#and if anyone sees this and wants to talk

[clairaworlds]

Hey thank you so much for this post. I'll admit i have both eyes but I need to ware a patch over my left eye every so often because of a headace condition I have. I sort of always tilt my head but I do it SO much more when I patch my bad eye. And ive noticed I walk closer to walls one eye days and bump my hand into literly everything. I could never tell if this was a universal thing or just me. Bc I'm not *always* down an eye, just sometimes (i don't have as much trouble gauging depth but that's probably bc when I have to patch my eye I'm ushally in enough pain that I avoid doing most activities for saftey reasons so i just dont run into the problem as often) this post made me feel so much better about the little habits I have when I ware my eyepatch. Like they're normal processes other people go through and not just me being really bad at life.

Seriously, thank you.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[xclowniex]

I have seen multiple posts going around making fun of, or minimizing, what happened in Amsterdam from antizionists. So I want to give a timeline of what happened.

Pre the attack:

Before people arrived in Amsterdam for the football match, there were people organizing the pogrom. Stuff like wanting to steal jews passports, were shared on social media. Yes, the word used on social media was jews not Israelis. The main people organizing the attack were arab and muslim. We do not know at this point if all the attackers were arab and muslim, but we do know that at least a majority were. This fact does not mean that all Muslims and arabs want to harm all jews, however the extremism which lead to the attack and antisemitisms place in it can and should be talked about.

The Israeli government got wind of this attack and warned the Netherlands Police, who decided to not do anything to protect jews.

This did not happen because the Israeli team lost, despite what certain people are saying.

Day before or of the attack (unconfirmed which day it was):

Once in Amsterdam, there were some fans who did tear down Palestinian flags and chant a racist anti arab chant. Whilst this is still very much racist and should be labeled as such as viewed as bad, it's not out of character for for European football culture, and has happened before with other fans which have not lead to them being hunted down. The pogrom was pre planned and still not a proportional response.

The attack:

Jews were hunted down, beaten, run over, and many more things. They were also forced to say "free gaza" and "free Palestine"

The attack harmed far more than just those who were racist. They attacked jews and anyone they perceived as Jewish indiscriminately.

Jews were saved by an Arab Israeli football player speaking to them loudly in Arabic so people assumed they were arab Israeli or just Arab.

A Greek man was attacked because he could not prove to the attackers that he wasn't jewish and was in fact Greek.

A brittish man was punched because he helped save jews. And when he told his attackers that he was brittish and not israeli or jewish (not sure if he wasn't, but he told his attackers he wasn't), he was told "but you helped a jew"

Jewish businesses were also broken into.

How and why it is antisemitic:

If at this point, you still cannot see why it was an antisemitic attack, let's recap.

• It was a planned attack on jews, not Israelis, jews. And it was planned before any racist things happened.

● jews were spared if they were perceived to be non jews, including being perceived as arab Israeli and non jews were attacked for being perceived as jews and for helping jews

• Jewish businesses were broken into. If it was about breaking into zionist businesses, ones own by non Jewish zionists also would've been broken into, but they were not.

• Non Israeli jews were attacked

It is antisemitic, as the targets of the attack were specifically jews. It was not revenge for palestine or for racist comments.

Israel intervened and flew people out of Amsterdam as it was no longer safe for jews in the city. Not because they lost the match.

[notjustjavierpena]

Tink

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is so many days late but I promise that it is worth it. I hope you enjoy a broken heart.

Summary: You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, secret relationship, dad’s best friend, possessiveness, daddy kink, lots of pet names, alcohol consumption, dirty and dark Tinkerbell roleplay, dirty talk, ass smacks!!!, clit stim, fingering, squirting, doggy style, overstim, tears, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, angst, fighting, no happy ending.

Word count: 9.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461590

Tink

You’re readjusting the straps on your pale gold stilettos as Joel slips into your childhood bedroom. He has gone unnoticed by the rest of the people in the house like he always does, having mastered the art of sneaking around since the beginning of your little fling. This is even as he has gotten far bolder over the summer, especially over the last month when you told him you loved him. It fills him with a carefreeness that he hasn’t felt in years, a feeling unlocked from his teenage days that he was so sure his body had forgotten by now. However, it doesn’t mean that he is careful not to disturb the noise downstairs as he clicks the door shut. 

You’re standing in front of the full-body mirror just opposite the door, bent over as you undo your shoe strap to tighten it slightly. Joel feels like a damn dog as he lets his eyes skim up your beautiful legs, letting his gaze wander over the body he has come to know so well before it eventually settles on your strutting ass. 

You are wearing a Tinkerbell costume, its green satin fabric hugging your curves like it has been specially tailored to your body. You have chosen a version of the fae that he doesn’t quite remember from the movie he used to watch with Sarah; the neckline dips way low, the straps are tucked away into the top to expose your chest and shoulders, and the hemline of the skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh which he is sure that a twirl will reveal your underwear to the world, something that makes his jaw tighten when you should be for his eyes only. And then there are the wings; pale, translucent and with tiny flecks of gold in them. You may be demanding attention from people other than him but despite being sexy and driving him wild, you mostly look cute. It makes him smile affectionately as he takes a moment to gather himself instead of being completely overtaken by the need to possess. 

You are lost in your own world, clearly not expecting anyone to come in, so it takes you by surprise when he pads across the room to lay his hands on your hips without announcing his presence. He swallows hard as he sees the two of you in the mirror, imitating something far more explicit than what he is actually doing. 

His touch startles you, eliciting a small gasp from you as you feel him caress on top of the fabric of your dress. He curls his fingers into it, fighting the urge to lift it and see what kind of panties you’re wearing underneath. 

“You frightened me,” you say but there’s no accusation in your tone. Instead, he can hear that you’re happy to see him and his hands stay on your body, only going up to your waist, as you straighten, “Where does Dad think you are this time?”

“Restroom,” he answers simply and lets his palms move to lay on your tummy. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking at you in the mirror with a soft smile. When he speaks, it is with paternity lacing his voice, “Ya goin’ out like that?”

“He might think you have bladder issues soon, old man. You can’t just barge in each time you want some sugar,” you tease him, eyes sparkling in competition with the glitter on your blush-covered cheeks. Joel leans in to kiss your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where you’ve applied your sweet perfume.

“You smell so good, little fae,” he says instead of acknowledging your jab at his age, the tip of his nose skimming along the delicate column of your throat. Shamelessly, he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it just enough to start something between the two of you that he cannot finish, “What’ve you got under here?” 

“Joel,” you say with fake outrage and tut disapprovingly. The both of you know that he’ll fuck you at some point tonight. Still, you make a statement out of grabbing his much bigger hands and removing them from your dress. You stretch his arms out in front of you both to keep him out of reach but he is so much stronger than you, manhandling you easily until he catches you in an embrace from behind. Being caged against his broad chest makes you giggle so goddamn heavenly, his body responding with interest in getting you on your back.

“You didn’t answer my question, Princess,” he whispers into your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin until you shiver. 

“About?” You light up the room when you smile innocently at him in the mirror and God, if it doesn’t make his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Your eyes are wide, your grin mischievous. 

“If you’re goin’ out like that,” he tightens his arms around you, focusing on the softness of your palms in his rough ones. He isn’t letting you go before you give him an answer.

“I am,” you lean back into his chest, turning your head away from the mirror to glance up at him through your lashes. You are in the mood to dare tease even further, “Don’t you like it?”

“You know I do. Too much actually,” he murmurs back at you as he takes in your costume once more in the mirror. He notices that you bite your lip as he ogles you, tilting back and forth on your feet while you let him eat you with his eyes. When he finds that you aren’t looking at yourself but rather still batting your eyes up at him, he reaches up to cup your jaw. He turns your face to the mirror, “I’d like it much more behind these walls.”

“I’m not staying here,” you say. Joel lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head as if to argue but his head isn’t in it. He feels somewhat secure when your voice sounds a little out of breath, “Besides, you know I’ll always come back home to you. No one makes me feel like you do.”

“You better, sweetheart,” he can almost imagine you shrinking down and flying around in his close proximity just to tease him. He finally moves you around in his arms until you are face-to-face with him and then, still holding you by your chin, he leans in to capture your mouth in a kiss that’s slower and deeper than usual. He brushes your soft tongue with his own, kissing you like he is claiming you and hopefully reminding you of what awaits back home. 

When he pulls back, you’ve gone dumb. There’s a vacancy in your eyes, a dazed look that tells you just how ready you are to melt into him and forget about everything else. Joel would love to keep you home but he’ll settle for the satisfaction he feels from looking at you blink rapidly, “Still with us, little fae?”

“Barely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. 

“Go have fun,” he encourages with a little smirk and, albeit reluctantly, lets you go but not before giving your ass a playful smack and causing you to yelp quietly, “Before I change my mind.”

“Bye, Daddy,” you whisper to taunt him as you leave out the door, and Joel has to stay behind for several minutes to get his aching cock to flag down. It doesn’t take long since he is an expert now, has learned to join the party downstairs without any trace of what he has been doing to his best friend’s daughter. 

—

The party has been going on for a few hours now, with costumes ranging from elaborate to barely there. The crowd of people crammed into the tiny house is buzzing with exciting fun, resulting in happy bursts of laughter bouncing off the walls along with the music, both of which get louder as drinks are consumed. Yet no matter how many times your friends cause you to throw your head back to laugh along and no matter the three drinks you already have in your system, your mind plays tricks on you and continuously goes back to Joel. The way he had kissed you goodbye earlier still feels imprinted on your lips, haunting you like a ghost and causing your skin to buzz, your thighs to press together. Nothing seems to get you out of this trance, not even the lingering eyes caused by the dangerous hemline of your Tinkerbell costume. The attention feels good, sure, but it is nothing compared to the way Joel makes you feel when he looks at you. 

You take a sip from your fourth drink. You’re supposed to be out having fun, dancing and drinking, but you can think of nothing else than leaving this place and going to his, only so you can slip back into that familiar embrace where you belong, only so you can feel his calloused hands grab your hips as he drags you down onto his—

“Who is he?” You look up to find your best friend staring at you with a knowing smirk. Hannah awaits an answer, quite a few more drinks in than you. She is dressed as a Poison Ivy, complete with green painted skin (which has been smudged off on every surface she’s touched) and her red hair decorated with plastic leaves she has cut off from a fake plant. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask innocently but you betray yourself by not being able to maintain eye contact with her. Your cheeks are warm but if she asks, you’ll say it is due to the alcohol. 

“You’re staring off again,” she notes and her eyes grow more devious. She points the straw from her drink at you and tiny splashes of homemade daiquiri fly in your direction, “I didn’t fly home and go to this party with you to not hear about who you are having sex with.” 

“Who says I am having sex?” You ask with comical indifference which accidentally reveals you in your lie. You rub off a spot of red liquid from your arm, “I’m not.”

“Please,” she dismisses your statement by waving a hand and moving closer to you on the couch. She talks loudly over the music, “You’re either getting continuously laid by some great secret boyfriend or I need to take notice of your skincare routine since you’re practically glowing.”

“Hey, keep it down. I don’t need anyone but you to know,” you shush her with a finger pressed to your lips. There’s no way you’re telling her that your secret boyfriend is Joel Miller… but right now, with alcohol in your bloodstream, it is tempting to let someone else in on the secret that’s been eating at you since June. Perhaps even to brag a little bit.

“You’re acting like seeing a guy is some forbidden romance,” Hannah sighs dramatically but when you smile and shrug, she narrows her eyes just a second before they go wide, “Wait, it is?”

“It’s a secret… because he’s a lot older,” you lean in to make the conversation more private, taking Hannah’s drink out of her hand in case the excitement that looms underneath her surface will make her spill the red liquid onto you. 

Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull, “Like how much older are we talking? Silver fox?”

“Old enough to remember dial-up internet and hate my music?” You test the waters and watch her process your words, not sure if her reaction is going to be one of shock or enthusiasm. However, with the amount of questionable things Hannah has gotten herself into over the years, you are more certain that it’ll be the latter. One can never know though. After all, right now you are keeping out the earth-shaking detail that the guy you give your nights to is your father’s very best friend.

A satisfied smile spreads on her face, slowly because she’s intoxicated, “So you’re telling me that you - the girl with a history of pissant boyfriends - have a mature, well-seasoned man in your grasp?” 

You giggle, happiness bubbling up at Hannah’s silly wording but your heartbeat thrums underneath your ribs because how Joel makes you feel is nowhere near previous flirtations; it’s intense, it’s all-consuming, and has you tossing and turning whenever. You can feel your cheeks ache from smiling. With a groan, you lean forward to bump your forehead against her shoulder. 

You earn an embrace in return, squeezed by the arm around your shoulder, “Or maybe he has you in his grasp?”

“I think it’s serious, Hannah, I love him,” you whisper in the crook of her neck just loud enough for her to hear you over the noise around you. There’s a gentle vulnerability in being nearly four drinks in and confessing your love - even if it’s words tumbling out of your mouth - for a boy to your person, the one who came through and gave you her approval without hesitation despite the scandal. 

Hannah pulls back a little, excitement on her face instead of shock. She has always had a tendency to live vicariously through you whenever something exciting happens, and it comes across when she urges you away, “Then what are you doing sitting here with me?” 

“Uhh, spending time with my best friend?” You straighten and raise a brow, stifling a grin.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “We’ve known each other since middle school. I’m sure I can survive a night without you if it means you getting with your mystery man. He’s apparently the love of your life judging by the amount of smiling you’ve done since we started talking about him. Who is it anyway?”

From her tone, you can hear she tries to sound nonchalant about the question at the end. However, the relief of talking to her about your affair with someone off-limits makes you a little too bold, too nonchalant yourself.

“I am seriously putting my life on the line here, so you have to promise not to tell anyone,” you stress, leaning in as far as you can while still looking at her. Your heart races in your chest, your eyes locked onto her widened ones. 

“Of course, of course! Cross my heart and all that,” Hannah sits up a little, almost imitating the way a cat’s ears perk up, “Spill!”

“Joel Miller,” you confess to your sins but much to your surprise, you don’t burst into flames and there is no sound of a record scratch before everyone looks at you in horror. In fact, it feels surprisingly easy and light to tell her. 

Hannah processes the name for a moment before her eyes widen just the tiniest bit more, “Wait what?! Joel Miller as in your dad’s buddy?!”

“Keep it down,” you hiss and shush, “I think someone upstairs didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry,” she is flustered, lowering her voice theatrically, “But this is huge. I mean… Does your dad know?”

You furrow your brow, “Of course, he doesn’t. He’d murder Joel if he found out. Lifetime imprisonment because of manslaughter style.”

Hannah nods in understanding. However, she still seems deep in thought, “But how does that even happen? You’re like… seriously off-limits, aren’t you? That’s bro-code even for boomers.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you recall, your voice taking on a dreamy note, “Just kinda happened. I was having a really difficult time at college and he just— he told me all the right things, then one thing led to another… He makes me feel things that I didn’t even know I needed. I know it’s wrong but—“

“Wrong? You’re a grown woman,” Hannah tuts, “Go see him. What’s the worst thing that could happen? That you probably end up having mind-blowing sex with an experienced man?” 

“You’re really sure it’s okay?” You ask but you are already getting out of your seat next to her. You start absentmindedly fixing your clothes to make sure you look like something out of Joel’s deepest fantasy, straightening out a squashed fairy wing and curling your hair around a finger to make it bounce into place. 

“Jesus, look at you,” she laughs at the way you fuss, “It would be classified as torture if I didn’t let you go, so go! See your silver fox, but just text me when you’re there.”

“I will, thank you, Hannah,” you beam. 

You leave her with giddiness and make excuses to your other friends about a ‘family thing’ when they appear bummed out that you are heading home. The air outside in Texas is still hot in October but you can’t feel warm without Joel’s arms around you. 

You're so sure that your heart says his name as it beats in your chest when you leave for him. 

Joel, Joel, Joel.

—

You stand by his front door not half an hour later, having checked that your parents’ car is not parked in his driveway. The house is quiet except for the soft glow of the floor lamp in his living room and the TV’s light flickering through the curtains. You take it as evidence that he is still awake. 

Just before you knock, you shoot Hannah a text, telling her that you’re here with five exclamation points and she types a barely coherent message back at you. She also wishes you good luck which you know you won’t need because the man opening his front door is so whipped for you. 

Joel says your name in surprise, quickly checking to see if anyone is watching as you twirl on his doorstep in your little green dress. The booze in your blood is making you more courageous than normal even if you aren’t anywhere near plastered. You step inside his house without permission but he doesn’t seem bothered as you saunter into his living room, your heels clicking as you step over the doorstep. He has turned off the TV, almost as if he knew that it was you behind his front door and therefore there would be no more time for lounging. 

“How much has Tink had to drink tonight?” He asks when closing the door. You don’t give him much time to do anything else as you enter his personal space again, caging him hungrily against the door to kiss him with all the heat in your body. 

“Not nearly enough for you to stop touching her, Peter,” you let him know as you take a quick breath, too excited for what he can give you if he allows himself remember to inhale through your nose. You rush back into making out with him but he holds you just out of reach, fingers digging into your shoulders. 

“Peter? I don’t think so, Tink,” he grumbles, large hands sliding down the length of your arms until he can rest them on your hips. His touch makes your cunt clench, desire stirring even further inside of you as you make a mess in your panties. 

“But…” You press your thighs together without any shame. 

Joel holds your waist firmly but then goes further down to cup the tops of your thighs underneath the satin skirt. His hands squeeze obscenely, denting your jiggling skin while his eyes have gone dark to indicate his lust. His fingers are calloused and warm as they graze upon where your panties hug your ass, “Peter ain’t never had the guts to get his hands on Tinkerbell like this. Lemme show ya what a man does to his own, personal little fae.”

He then drags your body against himself to let you feel every inch of him, the outline of his already hardening cock underneath his usual jeans. There’s no way he fucked you silly just a few days ago because your pussy reacts like it’s been craving him for days. 

“This is what good fairies get stuffed with. If they can handle the stretch,” he chuckles darkly. You moan longingly, brows furrowing to make you look slightly dumb as you suddenly become aware of how empty you feel, how much you need him to fill you out and stretch you to the brim. You had marched over here to be alluring to the point of control over him but he touches you and your mind blanks. He won’t fuck you here, told you last time that he prefers his bed so he can take his time. 

“Bedroom. Now, please,” you whine pathetically and reluctantly take a step back. He nods, allowing you to lead him upstairs. You take his hand before it falls to his side from your hip, dragging him through the house and earning a smack to your ass with the hand you aren’t holding. You yelp a little, gush a little more.

By the time you reach his bed, your head is spinning with how horny you are and your belly is swirling with heat. You drop down onto it, bouncing slightly on the mattress and he stands between your legs with delicious authority. 

“Lay back and let Daddy take care of his baby,” he commands but his voice is somehow both soft, harsh, and dirty. He watches you lower yourself onto your back, the glittering wings of your costume spread out beneath you and fluttering slightly as you wiggle your hips when tugging up your dress. 

Joel smiles with pride. He lays a warm hand on your knee, slowly gliding it up until his palm rests against your core, and touches you carefully through the fabric. 

“You gotta tell me somethin’,” he whispers with his eyes focused on yours, not needing to see what he is doing because he knows your body so well. He feels how damp your underwear has become, the sensation pulling a low moan from the back of his throat. You nod, words embarrassingly failing you when you are so overcome by your body’s need to have him where you need him the most. However, he is expertly avoiding your clit for now, clearly wanting to get his sentence out before your attention is lost. 

“A little birdie told me that when a man keeps his fae excited and happy, she produces a little extra magic down there, sparklin’ so prettily for him,” he tightens his grip between your legs when your hips start moving on their own accord. He holds you down, rubbing you closer to properly now but it’s still not enough to build anything to a crescendo. However, there’s an urgency to the way he touches you, a mix of frustration and relief now that you’re back here with him, 

“Only for those who know how to bring it out of her,” you finally manage a coherent sentence, a teasing one even, but your breath stutters through it. Your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat by now and as if he has heard your prayers, his thumb finally presses down on the hard little nub before going in mind-altering circles. 

“Then I just gotta make sure I show ya that I am the only one who can make enough magic spill from you to light up this whole damn house,” he growls, using his fingers expertly until you are on the brink of coming, “And every bit of that magic, honey? It’s mine. I ain’t stoppin’ until you’re glowing, little fae.”

You come so hard that your mind blocks out all other senses for a split second, your pussy going off into spasms that have you arching your back like you might actually float off the bed. You whimper at the oversensitivity that he teases out of you with featherlight touches. 

He pushes your pelvis down when it lifts itself up and snaps without anger in his voice. Instead, his voice is laced with lust, an octave deeper and threatening, “No moving away or I’ll pluck your pretty little wings off.”

The threat makes you moan, eyes widening as you stare at his face like a trapped animal. You can see how much Joel’s eyes darken at your reaction, unable to understand how he hasn’t ripped your panties yet to screw your brains out. 

“Wouldn’t want that, would ya? Unable to fly away?” He smirks deviously and draws back to undo your golden stilettos, his hand that isn’t working the lock holding your calf firmly. He presses kisses to your ankle too and is so delicate with your shoes even as he drops them onto the floor. 

“No,” you whimper and shake your head. You can’t bear telling him the truth which is that you want nothing more than being a wingless little fae, completely at his mercy. You imagine being tied to the bed with nothing to keep him from using you how he pleases and your chest feels alight. 

Teasingly, you slide your foot up along his arm until you can rest it comfortably on his shoulder. He allows it and turns his head to kiss just below your ankle in response.

“Then be a good girl and stay right where Daddy put you,” he rasps, letting his strong hands glide up the length of your legs. He squeezes your thighs gently as he passes over them, a part of your body that he would categorize as his favorite if you asked him to choose. When he inches his fingertips up under your skirt, the anticipation in the air nearly makes your body want to crawl away because what you will get from him will be too much. You shiver when he starts tugging your panties down, the white lace impossibly damp right at where your pussy has sat. 

When he drags them all the way off, lifting the leg on his shoulder briefly, his eyes settle right between your thighs. You clench involuntarily at being watched, slick dripping onto his bed sheets as you pulse for his gaze. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he stares without shame, taking in every inch of you as you are laid bare for him. The sight of the heat he’ll slide into has his jaw tightening, his breathing growing irregular. When he is satisfied with his inspection, his eyes lift and he gives you a look that could melt you right into the bed. 

“Look at this little pussy. It’s glistenin’ f’me, the magic’s pouring from it,” he says while he slides his fingers through your folds with slow and tantalizing strokes, the leftovers of your last orgasm still lingering as he taps your clit and causes you to squeak. 

“Yeah? Does it look pretty for you?” You ask deliriously and catch your bottom lip between your teeth to whine, lifting your hips up despite the rules and basically presenting your cunt like a gift. 

“So goddamn pretty, little fae. Do you want me to touch it properly this time? Inside to make those wings flutter?“ Joel’s threat is apparently less serious now that he’s got a glimpse between your legs. He turns his wrist so he can hook his fingers upward, rubbing your cunt teasingly around where you want him to sink into. He enters you to the first knuckle, applying the slightest pressure inside of you, only to draw back and make you lose your mind. 

“You’re teasing me,” you state the obvious, breathless and squirming underneath his ministrations. You push your hips to meet his hand, “Please, Daddy, I need it so badly. Don’t you wanna slip inside and feel how tight I am?”

“Then spread those legs for me,” he orders you in a gruff voice, clearly affected by your words. He reaches with his free hand to lift your leg off his shoulder and plants your foot firmly on the bed. You mirror it with your other leg until you can let both of them fall out to the sides. 

“You want me to get a towel, baby? We haven’t done that in a while,” he smirks at you knowingly, a certain glint in his eye as he asks. You know exactly what he is referring to and he chuckles when you answer by nodding eagerly with wide eyes, looking like a kid in a candy store being offered their favorite sweet. 

“That’s my girl, so eager to feel good,” he praises with a warm smile and rises from his position. He peels off his t-shirt, throwing it in your face - a fairly new habit of his - so you can drown in his smell before exiting the room to head for the bathroom, stepping out of his jeans on the way there. You curl your fingers into the fabric, bringing it to your nose to inhale deeply. Joel’s shirt smells of cotton and faded aftershave, mixed with something unmistakably him; a hint of sweat from being in the Texas sun, his wood-scented deodorant that still lingers. It’s enough to make you even wetter.

He comes back a moment later, towel in hand. He watches you clutching his shirt, having smeared the golden glitter on your face onto it, your pretty eyes nearly rolling back and your hips wiggling to no avail. 

“Ain’t you worked up, sweetheart? I’ve barely gotten started with you. Are all faes so greedy between their legs?” He taunts as he slides the towel beneath your hips, flattening it out neatly while you hold your breath in his proximity. He yanks the shirt out of your grip and stares down at you. Your costume is so messy by now, the green dress sitting around your hips to obscenely make you look like a thing used for shoving one’s dick in, and the translucent wings are slightly crumpled by your impatient wiggling around, your cunt’s search for pleasure. 

“Please, Daddy, need you to make me come,” you whimper and earn a look of pity. Joel moves to kneel on the floor by the bed, leaning over the edge of the bed until his upper body is between your thighs. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his ring- and middle finger into you, rewarding your desperation by curling his digits upward just in the right way.

“Oh,” you let out a slow, breathy moan when he finds the right spot inside you in just a few seconds, the one that has a direct line to your clit. Joel smiles at his immediate success, watching you with the pride of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing in his quest to undo you. 

“Right there, huh? God, you’re so sensitive, baby,” he murmurs lowly, his tone affectionate and aroused. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his index finger and pinky brush your ass and then makes a come-hither motion inside of you. You can feel a lump form in your throat, the flesh of your ass and thighs jiggling from the effort he puts into fucking you with his thick digits.

“You’re so good at that, mmm… Daddy,” you only just manage to say before you choke on a whine as he creates electricity within you, your voice breaking and trembling with desperation. You are well aware of how pathetic you sound, how needy, but you don’t care because you can feel the tension building with each stroke inside of you. With his thumb, he reaches out and swirls it around your clit, and you know he can feel how hard it has gotten in its aroused state; a little bump underneath the tip of his finger. It is so sensitive now too, making you wetter with each little push against it. 

You throw your head back and draw in a desperate breath, wanting so badly to swear at the sensation of him fucking you open like he has been thinking about it all day. Yet it doesn’t feel worth it to break the rules of using foul language, resulting in having him halt his doings. Instead, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and reach for your chest to relieve some of the tension in your body. 

You cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them to add another dimension to the way Joel is touching you. He swears below you at the way you clench around his fingers when you catch your nipples between two fingers, tugging to intensify the sensation between your thighs. 

“You are so sexy like that, Tink,” Joel murmurs softly in praise. He leans down to kiss your belly, kiss your inner thigh, and all the way up to your knee too. He keeps the relentless rhythm of his fingers but then also rests his free hand on your stomach just below your belly button, knowing that this is how he made you squirt the first time. He pushes down on your belly to add that final touch, and it is almost too much, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 

Your legs start to tremble in Joel’s peripheral vision, in need of being held down by Joel’s strong arm so he doesn’t lose his grip on the intense orgasm he has built up inside of you. Your eyes start to roll back and a high-pitched whimper escapes you as he has you teetering on the edge. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are so goddamn close, ain’t you? Glowin’ f’me so prettily. Come on, come for Daddy, baby. He put in so much work,” he talks you over the edge in the next moment, holding your cunt in an iron grip as you suddenly clamp down on his digits and start shuddering violently. He keeps his fingers inside of you, pressing them firmly against your g-spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit in taught little circles. It makes you gush all over his hand, soaking the towel beneath you as wave after wave comes crashing. 

You have been vocal throughout the whole thing, sure, but it is nothing compared to your cries right now as relieving pleasure wracks through your lower body and makes you sob. 

“God, you make Daddy so hard,” you hear Joel say but there’s a fog wrapped around your mind like a woolen blanket. When you feel yourself gushing again, it’s so intense that tears are spilling down your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clings to your sweat-slicked body. You feel slightly claustrophobic in the moment but you have no control of your body, so you let Joel’s soothing words guide you through an orgasm that’ll be worth bragging about to Hannah. 

When it finally ebbs out, Joel eases his fingers out and makes you mewl. He wipes his hand on the towel and then soothingly strokes along your thighs as you try to relish in your post-orgasmic bliss. 

However, you start tugging on your dress instead, desperately trying to escape its confines while you pant in the aftermath. You are still so fucked out that it doesn’t come off during your attempt, your hands shaking and a whine making Joel gently chuckle. 

“Stop, stop, lemme help you,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, taking your wrists in his hands to stop your desperate effort. You let out a soft plea for him, pouting for show as you follow orders and he guides you to sit, slow as he moves you in case your head is still woozy. He reaches behind you and up under the fairy wings to undo the zipper of the green dress, pausing for a moment before deciding to tug the fabric downward instead of up over your head. The garment slips down until it sits around your waist. He pushes you down onto your back again so he can ease it past your hips and off your legs. 

He stands there for a moment more before tugging his underwear down his legs, quickly kicking them to the side, and then he just stares. You feel cherished by him when he touches you but it’s different when he just looks; you feel sexy underneath his gaze. You know you’re a sight to behold when he swallows thickly, a disheveled little naked fae with her wings bent from how well she’s been fucked. 

Finally, he crawls on top of you. He presses close to you, pulling your leg over his waist as he catches your mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss that perfectly displays the affection and hunger within him. You kiss him back, sighing softly into his mouth and reaching up to run your hands over his broad shoulders, eventually settling them on the back of his head. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug him back to your mouth each time he needs a breath, whispering to him during the mere seconds you are without each other. 

“Need you, baby,” you pant softly, lips sensitive from kissing so feverishly until your body feels ready for more without the risk of combusting on the sheets. Joel’s cock is hard against your thigh, and he can’t stop murmuring half sentences as he crashes his crotch into your hip with a low moan while telling you just how good it will feel to be inside you. 

“Yeah? This little pussy needs to get fucked?” He cups your face and dives into your mouth anew. 

“Yeah,” you moan breathily with a nod, brushing your tongues together in the new filthy kiss, “Need you to make me your little fucktoy, Daddy. That’s all I’m good for.”

“That’s right, Tink,” he growls, his eyes having darkened at your obscene words. With a hint of reluctance, he pulls away from you so he can flip you onto your stomach. With a firm grip on your hips, he helps you up onto your hands and knees. 

It’s a struggle to hold yourself up but you stiffen, quickly finding your bearings, as Joel raises his hand a little in the air before giving you a firm smack on your ass. The sting makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets below you. He soothes the pain, speaking as someone put together even if his ragged breathing gives him away, “Who do ya belong to, little fae?”

“Y-you,” you stammer, your voice wavering but still holding a tinge of eagerness. He smacks you again, this time harder so the sound bounces off the walls. 

“And who am I?” He demands, not satisfied with your simple answer. 

“Daddy,” you plead with a feeble cry, clenching around nothing and feeling a bead of slick drip from your clit. 

“That’s right,” he gruffs. Even though it is unnecessary with how soaked you are from your arousal and Joel’s impressive generosity tonight, he still spits into his hand and coats his thick length in it. He aligns with your dripping slit and breaches you with the tip of his cock. 

A whimper tumbles from your mouth and he shushes you gently. He is so big inside of you that everything hurts just enough to make you whine feebly but at the same time, he feels just right inside you as he slips in right to the hilt. There’s a looming yet exciting danger of him being in complete control in this position but he is so careful with you as he starts fucking you. Well, as careful as a man can be when he gets to be balls-deep in Tinkerbell. 

You groan at the feeling of him having his way with you. He has reached the point where he has little patience left from putting his own needs aside for too long, longing to use you to spill into. You are overstimulated by the two highs he has already pulled from you. It intensifies the sensation of him effortlessly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, so much so that you don’t last long in this position and end up with your face in the mattress.

“Ah–... ah,” you squeak each time he bottoms out, mercilessly letting you feel the depth of each stroke and keeping you panting under his weight, almost dizzy with how hard he is inside your soft heat.

“You like that?” He presses you down further into the mattress by planting his hand firmly on the back of your neck as a clear, dominant gesture that holds you in place for him to drive into you even harder.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Daddy," you manage to gasp out, your words muffled by the bedding as your body shudders under the force of his thrusts. Each of your words stutters along with your breathing, each movement of his harsh rhythm makes his hips crash into your ass.

Joel's grip on the back of your neck tightens just a little, his breaths coming out in shallow pants while a growl leaves him, “Just fuckin’ take it, baby. You can do it.”

“You feel so fu—“ you catch yourself in your delirious state of mind, yet again not about to be punished for breaking the rule of swearing. That’s only allowed by the real grownups, so you swallow around a little gasp and pretend like it almost didn't happen, “You feel so good, Daddy.”

Suddenly, he rakes his hand down your spine, through the sweat that is beading there and grabs your hips. He drags you onto your hands and knees, your tits bouncing as he knocks all wind out of you when he begins thrusting again. 

You make a noise in the very back of your throat, a sudden surge of pleasure through your body at the new angle making you realize how close you are again. You are sweating, you are crying with actual tears spilling down your cheeks, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and God, you just need a little help getting there.

“Harder,” you plead pathetically, craving his cock right against the spot inside of you that he might as well label as his own, “Please, I can take it, Daddy.”

It is the truth; you’re practically molded into a sheath for his cock only from how many times he has fucked you since the beginning of the summer. However, at the same time, it feels like you can barely take anymore he has to give, so stuffed that you think you’re about to lose control. 

“Shh,” he soothes your sobs, voice softening in beautiful contrast to his relentless pace, “Daddy’s got ya. Daddy’s happy to give you - shit, baby - to give you whatcha need.”

“Ah!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the pleasure right around the corner. It makes you able to hear how the bed is squeaking, how the headboard is continuously slamming against the wall. 

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me. You gonna come on it?” You hear him behind you and in response, you nod frantically when no intelligible words come out. He splays a hand on your back and gives you his all to get you there, “God, I love to see you act like a cockdrunk little fae.”

“Mhm!” Your cries turn to high-pitched keens as your orgasm catches up with you and hits you like a bolt of lightning. You are done for, trembling through the strong pulses between your legs as you come hard enough to wipe your mind. Behind you, Joel groans as your walls try to trap his cock in a grip that has him faltering just for a moment. However, he quickly regains his momentum so he can fuck you through each overwhelming wave. 

“Well done, baby. Good girl comin’ on my cock,” he praises through gritted teeth and you can imagine the slightly angry face he has on as he feels his own climax speed towards him, “Daddy’s gonna fill you up right now.” 

“Really?” You ask dreamily with your eyes closed in the middle of your afterglow, a dazed smile on your face. Bliss is not the right word, too much mind-numbing and brain-quietening exhaustion following it. Behind you, Joel is still pounding into your squelching cunt but you can do nothing more than giggle happily in between sweet moans whenever he hits something just right. 

The giggles cause you to tighten around his girth, squeezing him just enough for him to swear loudly at the exquisite feeling your body wrapped around him. He lets go because he can’t hold back anymore, coming inside of your pussy with controlled, hard thrusts that wipe the little smile off your face because air gets knocked out of you. 

“Yes, please gimme your come, Daddy, please give it to me,” you urge him and furrow your brows, practically drooling down onto the sheets as he abuses your pussy in his blissful state. He is so deep inside of you as he spurts, coating your velvety walls in his thick and generous load. It feels so fucking good. Nothing like anything a good little fairy would ever do. You even start thanking him, panting as you say the words over and over again.

“Christ, baby,” he moans behind you, “So goddamn dirty for Daddy.”

You whimper when he leaves you empty a moment later, causing you to collapse onto your front with your hands resting underneath your cheek and your fingers curling into the sheets. You want to bite into the bed, your head swimming with how good and fucked out you feel. 

Joel moves to lie down next to you, his body halfway on its side so he can kiss your sweat-glistening shoulder. He moves upwards when you shiver at the first touch of his lips, dragging his mouth up to your warm cheek. He plants a kiss right by the corner of your mouth, and you absentmindedly reach out to stroke along his jaw. 

“That was so good,” you say with a tiny moan. 

“You are so perfect,” he praises lovingly. He moves to lie down on top of your limp body, crushing you so heavenly with his weight as his chest sticks to your back. The wings of your costume crumble, flattening from being squashed. His arms envelop you and a large hand brushes a bit of loose hair away from your neck. He dips down to kiss just below the base of your skull and you find yourself automatically stretching your neck for even more. He showers you in kisses, lips trailing up and down your throat until you feel a burning need to breathe him in further, to be even closer. 

You whine like a child, wiggling underneath the weight of him until he shifts to lie beside you again. He drags you close to his warm chest, planting a broad palm on your back and you respond by scooting forward to climb even further into his arms. Frustration bubbles up in your chest because it doesn’t feel like he is close enough, not even when you whimper and bury your face in the crook of his warm neck. He chuckles affectionately above you, cradling you like you are the most precious thing he owns, and rests his lips on your disheveled hair. 

“Joel…” You whisper and try to tug at him even more, your arms going under his so you can be flush against him and mold together with his much stronger embrace. You grab at his shoulders, had no idea that there could be such a loud and powerful yearning in your chest for someone you already have.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer. You feel his hand move gently along your naked back, trying to soothe you as you continuously try to shift yourself even closer in his arms though you’re already as close as you can get. 

“It’s not close enough,” you complain feebly and shift once more, a bit of embarrassment flowing through you at how needy you come off. It’s rare that you feel like this but the conversation you had with Hannah earlier has your head in a lovesick spin. The need for Joel is unmatched by anything you have ever felt because this state of mind isn’t fuelled by desire anymore - you have already gotten that out of your system - but rather an all-consuming need for love. 

Joel shushes you gently when you whine once more and squeezes you tightly to relieve your discontent, coaxing your impatient and restless body to calm down. He talks gently and says your name, his voice reverberating through his chest, “Look at me.”

You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. He whispers, “I love you.”

And then he reaches up slowly to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He dips down to kiss you softly on the lips, grounding you further and making your mind go quiet. It’s not rushed, not as passionate as the kisses you’ve shared just moments before but it’s sweeter than honey. 

As you let your guard down fully with a mind completely blank, a sentence slips from your mouth without a second thought. It’s not something you planned to say but you have no control over your actions when he kisses you like that.

“Guess what?” You giggle, lost in his eyes. 

“What, babydoll?” He smiles down at you.

“I told Hannah about us,” you confess, another wave of giddiness washing over you at the excitement. 

However, it quickly passes over you as Joel’s face shifts to an expression of something concerned, tingeing on angry but mostly just unpleasant. Immediately, his jaw tightens, “You did what?”

Your face drops along with your stomach. You try to find the words to calm him but when you open your mouth there are no words that fit. His stare is so intense, laced with frustration and paranoia that makes your throat start tingling with tears. 

“Joel—“ you croak when he pulls back a little, the distance between you feeling unnaturally cold. 

“Do you have any idea what could possibly happen if she lets this slip?” He doesn’t look at you, rolling onto his back to rest the back of his thumbs against his forehead, “You should have talked to me about this first.” 

“Joel, she would never— I trust her!“ You insist but you mostly just hear yourself sounding like a child. You want to defend your choice even further but he is already interrupting you with a dangerous chuckle.

“That’s not the damn point, honey. People talk, people slip up. You think we’re goin’ to be in the shadows for much longer now?” He sits up, hands on his bent knees. 

“You’re acting insane,” you say bitterly and sit up as well, anger bubbling up in your own chest at his condescending tone and suddenly, you find yourself fighting his lecture. You bite back, “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not fun for me to hide all the time because you’re scared.”

“No, don’t you dare twist this ‘round on me when you are out there runnin' your mouth,” he growls, making you flinch when his voice is louder than you have ever heard it before, “I - opposed to you - am tryna protect what we have.”

You can hear your pulse in your ears, “You know what? Stop pretending like this is for my own good when it feels like you are just protecting yourself. Actually, maybe you should ask yourself if this is what you really want.”

Joel scoffs, suddenly hauntingly calm in his tone once more and you miss the warm tinge that his voice always has when he speaks to you, “Maybe I am some kind of fool for thinkin’ we could ever work. Maybe if we were closer in age, it’d be easier. Maybe if I didn’t have a past with your family, and I hadn’t known you since you were a kid then this wouldn’t feel so goddamn wrong.”

The words hit like a punch. Your anger mingles with hurt. It doesn’t feel fair to attack your age like he is because you cannot change it, and that’s the worst part of it. In a feeble attempt to defend yourself, you go for the killing blow. 

“You think you’re the fool here? I let myself fall in love with you,” you falter with a tremble in your voice but then get a hold of yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, “I laughed at your jokes and I let you fuck me because I thought you weren’t going to run the second things got hard. Well congratulations; you got to play self-righteous to make yourself feel better. You are the biggest fucking coward, Miller.”

The second you see the glimpse of hurt in his eye, you regret every syllable yet your stupid pride makes you hold onto the image that you meant every one. You realize your wording, that you have talked about him as if you and him are in the past, and you flex the muscles in your throat to stop yourself from bursting into tears even if your face burns.

“I’ll make it real easy for ya then, sweetheart,” he says coolly, and suddenly, his weight is gone from the mattress and your heart is screaming for him to stay. You watch him move to pick up his clothes and dress quickly, not bothering to fix the way his shirt sits askew on his torso because the determination on his face tells you that he is desperate to leave. 

You clutch around your knees when he bolts from the room, listen to the sound of his feet on the stairs as he descends them, and then finally flinch when the front door slams hard enough to make the whole house rattle. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, the air leaving you shakily.

A single tear rolls down your face, followed by another but you swallow down the grief that comes with how final this interaction seems. Something about it tells you that you won’t see him for a while now, and not just because you are going back to school soon. 

With shame, you slowly rise off the bed. Your body is sore, sensitive, and aching between your thighs, and you are still covered in evidence from having sex with him. Feeling him on you despite his absence is usually a thing you relish in but in this moment, it just feels like a cruel reminder of what you might not get to have in the future.

You sit down on the toilet to pee, your knees falling inwards and your body sagging from the exhaustion of what you have just been through. The heartache is so raw, sitting tightly in your throat as a lump that you can barely swallow around while you do your business and afterward mechanically take a shower and clean yourself up in front of the sink. 

When you reenter the bedroom, it feels like you are an intruder and this is your crime scene. You scan the room for your things but cruelly, your eyes fall on one of Joel’s shirts hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. It is already worn, hasn’t been thrown in the laundry basket yet. Ideally, you shouldn’t walk home in the skimpy outfit you arrived in and so, you’re tempted to put it on - if not only to let his familiar scent envelop you - but you cannot risk it. The last thing you need is to walk into your parents’ house wearing his clothes, walk in with the smell of him lingering on you. 

So instead, you slip back into your Tinkerbell costume in the emptiness of Joel’s bedroom, not even the ghost of him lingering, trying not to think about how excited you had been about dressing up for him just a few hours ago. 

—

Your father is in the living room when you quietly enter the house again. You try to sneak past him, hoping that the low hum of the TV will distract him from your footsteps, but as you move past the doorway, he catches you off guard. 

“You’re home early?” He says but it is a question as well as a statement. He reaches for the remote to turn down the volume but when he sees your face, he furrows his brows and turns off the television altogether. 

You force a little smile, “Yeah, just wasn’t feeling it.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, pushing himself to stand in the soft glow of the reading light, “C’mere for a second.”

Reluctantly, you make your way to stand in front of him, your heels clicking on the floorboards. Your shoulders sag as you stop in front of his tall frame, and he studies you for a moment before nudging you with the warmth of his voice, “Did something happen tonight, honey?” 

“No,” you say shakily, avoiding his gaze as your throat feels tight, “No, it was a great party but I was just too tired.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly, reaching out to lay his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm and you’re cold from walking home with a barely dried-off body and no jacket since you bolted out the door. You stare into his eyes, lip trembling as he continues, “I can see you’re not okay. Did something happen?”

You wish that you could say that it is nothing because the reality of it is cruel, ten thousand miles between what he thinks he understands and the truth that you must keep painfully lodged in your chest, taking up too much space for your heart. However, the dam breaks at the gentleness he shows you, the love burning beneath his concern, and suddenly, a sob breaks free. 

Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close with his hand rubbing your back. You know you don’t deserve his reassurance as he coos in your ear, has no clue how complicated things are. 

You shake in his embrace, your tears wetting the shoulder of his soft shirt. He kisses your hair affectionately, squeezing you while his protective words rumble in his chest, “Listen to me. I need you to tell me if someone hurt you, okay? I won’t be mad. I just wanna help.”

“It’s not like that,” you reassure him and in response, you can feel him relax a little bit as he holds you, sighing in relief. You sniffle, resting your cheek against his chest, “I just got close to someone and it got complicated. He said some things that— I mean, I did too but it really hurt, Dad.”

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, to care for people who maybe don’t deserve it but don’t let anyone make you feel small,” he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, pauses for a moment before continuing, “If this person don’t treat you right… maybe it’s time to reconsider how much space they take up in your life.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right, thanks, Dad,” you reply with enough conviction that he gives you a smile, proud to have gotten through to you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the person you are talking about is the only person that you cannot avoid either, the only person who can break both of your hearts.

.

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[00kittenz]

── homie hoppin’ ( lhs, pjs, sjy, psh ) ּ 𓂅⋆ 📙

๑ Heeseung never wanted to believe the rumors about you around campus, to him you could never do wrong and he sees you as nothing less than an angel. But when his friends begin telling him about their nightly escapades with some “mystery girl” that sounds awfully familiar, he grows more suspicious of your true intentions you’ve been hiding all along.

pair: hyung line ㅊ f!reader, college au | warnings: pwp, smut, angst (kinda ??), hook-up culture, yn is the biggest fuckgirl omg (but she’s sooo cuntyy), humour, slut-shaming (not from the boys), daddy kink, oral (m + f. rec), mentions of running a train but it doesn’t happen lol, lots of s.x flashbacks, yn is so unbothered by everything 😴, unprotected s.x (yikes !!!) | teaser wc: 857

thanks to @leeechin & @pshbites for enabling this idea LOL, couldn’t have done it without them frfr. also here’s a silly little preview of what’s to come (it gets real MESSY in this sfdsfsd)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

heeseung was never really the type to ever engage in gossip or drama going around campus. he’d rather simply mind his business and keep it moving, it was useless to entertain it anyway— most of the rumors held zero truth or any proof to back them up. what does seem to grab his attention however, is your name being constantly brought up in almost everyone’s mouths. you were the talk of the whole school and it wasn’t anything good that was being said about the girl he’s been sleeping around with on and off for the past few months or so.

“oh you know about y/n? isn’t she the one who’s always bouncing from one friend group to the next ? i wouldn’t trust her around my man even for a second..”

“didn’t she let leehan hit it at that party last night ? that girl needs to be stopped, she’s always messing around with different guys..”

“wasn’t she just with eunseok last week ? he was telling me all about how him and sungchan took turns on her.”

he couldn’t believe half the stuff that was being said about you. not only was it just plain disrespectful, but it was also disgusting how some people could spew such fabricated nonsense as if you weren’t a real human being with feelings. heeseung knew you two weren’t exclusive but you’ve been seeing each other more frequently, which made him think he might have a chance to make things official. at least he thought so, until he saw you talking with one of his close friends, jaeyun in the library. you both were way too close for comfort and the way you were giving him those same bedroom eyes that you’d always flash at heeseung, made his whole body fill up with an unimaginable amount of rage.

you were quite popular and well known around campus, your charming persona and pretty face was the perfect combo to get anyone to fall head over heels for you. everywhere you went you’d turn heads, all the boys would be breaking their necks just to get a glimpse of you. the tiny skirts you’d always wear had their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, which only made the other girls seethe in utter jealousy. the way you could command an entire room without even trying was a superpower in itself, you didn’t need to put in the extra work to get all the attention on you because everyone gave it to you automatically.

it wasn’t until heeseung began hearing more about his friend’s sex lives that he’d grow more suspicious of what’s really going on. he usually zones out and doesn’t really listen much whenever they talked about it, but since the movie they were watching wasn’t all that interesting, he began shifting his attention to his friends. jaeyun and jongseong were always bragging about how much pussy they’d get but they seemed to hyperfocus on one particular girl that seems to get brought up a lot in their conversations. jaeyun would say how she gave him the ‘most life changing head’ he’s ever received, meanwhile jongseong was describing how some girl he fucked a few days ago rode his dick like a grade A pornstar.

heeseung wasn’t adding much of his input into the conversation, and neither was sunghoon as he tends to keep that part of his life more private. but, what made him suddenly wanna jump up in his seat was when jaeyun was telling them how hot the girl looked when he fucked her from behind, she had a back tattoo and he thought that was the sexiest shit ever. he never specified exactly what the tattoo was, but he remembers that you also had one too. maybe he’s just reading too much into it ? could it really be you they were talking about ? nah.. there’s no way. he’s sure there’s plenty other women with back tattoos walking around campus, it simply could be an eerie coincidence. he knows he isn’t the only one that you’re sleeping with, but to mess around with his friends would be a new low for him. he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he were to find out that happened..

his worries would only worsen when he catches sunghoon smiling and faintly giggling at his phone about something, to which jongseong asks him what’s so funny. sunghoon simply shrugs it off and says it’s nothing, quickly locking his phone before he lifts up from the couch to announce that he’s going back to his dorm. they all exchange their goodbyes and wish him a safe walk back to his place. but when he left, he was walking in the direction completely opposite of his dorm, he was heading the exact same way it took to get to your building instead. now he’s really starting to overthink at this point. there’s absolutely no way you’re actually fucking all of his friends and he doesn’t have a single clue about it. heeseung may be quite oblivious at times but he isn’t that stupid. he’s probably overreacting. again, could just be a very weird coincidence… right ?

just leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[meo-eiru]

DUDE I JUST PLAYED THROUGH THE GAME, WHY IS IT SO SADDDD😭😭😭

and why is he hot

Starling went through quite a few redesigns through the entire development process so let me talk about it a bit :3

It all started with this notes app drawing I made with my finger

Right from the start we knew his tail would be made out of tongues but figuring out how many and placed how was quite hard, I really had to girlmath my way thru

This was the first actual drawing I made of him. The story wasn't complete yet but I went ahead and designed something anyway. Here he was definitely "scarier" and his scar was also placed differently. He had gills on his neck but as you will see I changed their location to under his arms later on. We were actually considering not giving him a tongue of his own so I wanted to make his mouth terrifyingly big and empty.

Here I tried giving him bigger eyes like a fish. This was when his playful and childlike personality had started shaping as you can see from the expressions. I definitely liked this direction better but it also wasn't perfect just yet so I went ahead and did a few more changes

I slowed down on trying to figure out his design a bit after that and instead focused on how his sprite would look. He is a merman after all, he can't just stand straight like a lot of the other visual novel characters. This stage was PAINFUL.

These were the first ones I sketched, we ended up deciding we liked the 3rd one the best.

I carried that 3rd one over to another canvas and started playing around with how we could place his tail, we started entertaining the idea of having him sit on a big rock

This is when his pose really shaped up. The animated Little Mermaid movie was actually a big inspiration, I sat and rewatched the entire movie and studied how they animated her tail

And after that I finally finalized his design. We decided to change the end of his tail to be more eel like for aesthetic purposes (normal tail shape looked weird with tongues)

And for anyone wondering this is what Maelyn looked like at first. Since the story wasn't complete yet I thought it'd take place in a more modern setting and designed her with that in mind but we decided to have the story take place in 1800s so I changed the design based on that. I did a lot of research on glasses and corsets to make the design as accurate as I could.

Yes glasses! We didn't use the sprites in the main story but Maelyn does wear glasses and looks very pretty in them if you ask me. You will be seeing more of it in the bonus episodes!

[merveloyd]

<prev

Quine Harley wanted to give back to the community that helped her through so many hardships, so she put her degree to use and started offering complimentary therapy to anyone who needed it on the weekends. Her most recent client was odd to say the least, how he always wore that mask, how he always asked about patient confidentiality, how he only introduce himself as 'Joker', how long it took for him to open up, it was all very intriguing to Quine. Eventuality he started speaking casually with her and she realized how funny he was! One thing led to another and they decided to go out for coffee. A couple dates later she opened up about her family troubles, how her brother had died in prison a couple months ago.

One day he took her to an abandoned mall, he told her it was a special place but she didn't expect it too look like a city, he led her through the mall until he was stopped by someone who started arguing how he didn't want to bring her into this before stopping when he saw her, it was her brother, they don't know how long they hugged each other. Later they started catching up, he explained how they needed a doctor but how they couldn't really pay her, she accepted, Joker started speaking more openly to her after that about what he did, how he was always under threat by insane villains, Quine stopped him and asked him to clarify. He talked about their elaborate schemes, how deranged they were while she thought about how they showed such obvious signs, how they needed serious help, how she could maybe help them and how the least she could do was try. He was surprised by her but joyfully agreed to make her a costume, she was kinda excited for this, after all, she loved clown since she was young.

She wants to let the villains and goons heal and hopefully make allies, let them spill their anxieties and worries to The Harmless Harlequin.

Grey Bruce was eternally grateful for Mr. Bruce's generosity, he was so lucky to have been picked out of all the children from the orphanage, he overheard the children words laced with pity how he was a 'tax write-off' but what did they know? He was sure that under his uncaring exterior Wayne was a kind man at heart. Mr. Bruce was quite the busy man, Grey rarely saw him around the mansion, anytime he needed something one of the many butlers would provide, they were all named Alfred for some reason that he didn't quite get. It took a couple of months before he found Mr. Bruce in a strange cavern bellow the mansion, he was half wearing a bat costume and looked shocked to see him.

He revealed his secret persona of The Madbat to Grey, how he offered vicious criminals a change to reform themselves and contribute something of value to society at large, how the public perception of him was a necessary evil so he wouldn't be unnecessarily idolized, how the damage he caused was only necessary to stop even greater damage and how he wanted Grey to join him. Grey was amazed, here was a great opportunity to prove his worth to him! Mr. Bruce entrusted him with a suit of armor that has been in his family for generations, Grey thought for a moment that it looked similar to the dozens of armors lining the halls but he dismissed that thought as Mr. Bruce entrusted him with his loyal bodyguards. The armor was clunky so Grey decided to modify it, he took inspiration from the bird watching he used to do with his folks back at the circus, he treasured every memory he had of them.

You can count on Madbat's right hand Crimson Shrike to take care of the vicious criminals of the night.

the sidekicks

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 5

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

“Where’s Az?” Mor asked as Nesta and Cassian entered the dining room at the River House.

“Busy,” Cassian said with a shrug, as he pulled out the chair for his mate, greeting the rest of their family with a smile. 

Mor cocked her head, a small frown appearing on her face. "Busy?" she repeated, a note of curiosity in her voice. "What's he up to?"

Busy. That had been Azriel’s answer to nearly everything after Koshei. Busy.

Even quieter than usual. Keeping away from all of them…and Cassian still heard that one sentence echo in his head. Better me than you. Like somehow Cassians life was worth more than Azriel’s.

Azriel was just being noble and self-sacrificing as usual, right? Cassian knew that his brother didn't really think that way, didn't really believe that his life was worth less than anyone else's. But still, the words haunted him. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, he had let Azriel down. That he hadn't been there when his brother had needed him the most.

Maybe he should have tried to talk to him...when it all went down… but then he hadn't realised what exactly was even going on, until Nesta had flatly laid it out for him one evening. Azriel had gotten over Mor only to fall in love with Elain...and that hadn't ended in his favour either.

Cassian grimaced just thinking about it. Azriel deserved to be happy. Azriel deserved a mate that loved him, a female that fucking adored him…and instead his brother had fallen not just for one, but two unavailable females. 

And Azriel hadn’t complained. Not once. He had never let it show.

He always kept his emotions hidden under that stoic mask of his, like he was afraid of letting anyone see how much he was hurting. Cassian knew that Azriel would never ask for help, that he would never admit that he needed someone to talk to. But that didn't mean that he didn't need it. 

Cassian just wished that he could find a way to get Azriel to open up, to let him in…that wouldn’t involve beating him to a bloody pulp. 

Azriel acted like everything was fine. Azriel acted like he didn't care. Cassian knew that it was a mask, knew that it wasn't the truth...but Azriel liked to pretend it was...and maybe it was better to let him pretend. 

It wasn't like he was hurting anybody with it, right? He was doing his work just as well as he always did...and if he wanted to spend his free time reading Sellyn Drake books, maybe they should just let him do that…maybe it made him feel better. 

"Maybe he's seeing his secret girlfriend," Cassian drawled.

Mor snorted at that suggestion. "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "As if Azriel would ever have time for a girlfriend, let alone a secret one."

"You would be surprised," Cassian muttered under his breath. Apparently Azriel had time for reading Sellyn Drake novels while locked into his room, after all. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mor wondered. "He has been...distant lately," she said with a pout.

Cassian could only stare at her. Mor couldn't be serious right now, could she?

Of course, Azriel was distant to her. Mor had fucking broken his heart and trampled on it to top it off. And Cassian had helped her with through the years. He probably owed Azriel an apology for that as well.

And still, Azriel hadn’t complained. Azriel hadn’t called them out. Azriel had taken it silently. Had even congratulated Mor when her Mating Bond with Emerie had snapped. Had been painfully polite, making painfully sure that he didn’t cross any lines, didn’t make Emerie uncomfortable in any way. 

"Just leave him be," Cassian said with a shrug. "He's reading Sellyn Drake novels, he'll be fine,” he waved her off. 

Rhys nearly spit his wine over the table and instead started coughing violently. "Azriel is reading Sellyn Drake novels?!" he asked Cassian with an incredious stare.

"Apparently he has trust in Nesta's taste of literature," Cassian answered easily.

Mor raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Sellyn Drake novels?" she repeated, eyeing Cassian like he had gone mad. "Since when does Azriel read those kinds of books? He's not exactly the...romantic type."

Or maybe there just never had been a single person that had appreciated that side of his brother. Who knew what Azriel actually was into. 

Elain and Mor weren’t similar in the slightest after all. 

Cassian shrugged. "Maybe he's expanding his horizons," he said with a grin. "Or maybe he just wants to see what the fuss is all about. After all, Sellyn Drake is...surprisingly good. Or so I've heard, anyway." He gave a sidelong glance to Nesta, who simply rolled her eyes at him.

Still, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhys play absentmindedly with the stem of the wine glass. There was something there...between Rhys and Azriel that Cassian couldn't quite put his finger on. Some kind of tension...some kind of...something.

But lately, it had seemed like that tension had only been getting worse. Like they were both holding something back, like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop. Cassian couldn't help wondering what would happen when that tension finally snapped.

***

"Winnowing or flying?" Azriel asked Sky as they stepped out into the icy early winter air.

"I...I can't...fly?" Sky answered haltingly, looking at him with these devastating blue eyes. They were beautiful. Not a light blue, not a teal, not bordering on violet…just beautiful near cobalt blue. She probably would match his siphons, he reflected weakly. 

"I'll fly, I'll carry you," he gave back with a chuckle. She stared at him like he was insane, her cheeks reddening.

"I...I...you...can...can't carry me. I am too...heavy," she mumbled. Now it was his turn to stare at her.

Azriel couldn't help but scoff at that. "Too heavy?" he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm an Illyrian warrior,” he told her drily. “I could carry a full-grown male into battle if I had to,and I have dragged full-grown males off the battlefield…I can carry you.” 

Azriel couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Was she...was she seriously trying to tell him that she was too heavy for him to carry? She just so reached the middle of his chest! She definitely wasn't thin...her body was covered with soft flesh and lush curves, every inch of it soft and inviting...but even if she weighed twice her weight, he would easily be able to carry her. She would probably weigh next to nothing to him.

And yet, he could sense the insecurity in her voice, the way she didn't quite believe that he could carry her.

He stepped closer to her, placing his hand gently under her chin and tilting her head up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "You are beautiful," he said softly, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. "And I don't care how much you weigh, I can carry you. I want to carry you. Because you are mine and I will always protect you, no matter what."

Her breath hitched at that, and he could see the warmth spreading through her cheeks as her heart began to race. She looked up at him with those stunning blue eyes of hers, her lips parted slightly in surprise and wonder. "You...you really mean that?" she whispered, her voice soft and shaky. "You...you don't mind how big I am?"

Azriel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, sweetheart, I don't mind," he said gently. "I think you are absolutely perfect just the way you are. And if I have to carry you to prove it, then that is what I will do." And without another word, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as easily.

She squeaked as they shot up in the sky and then she laughed, the sound bright and beautiful

They soared through the sky together, the wind blowing through their hair and clothes as they flew. The City of Starlight sprawled out beneath them, a beautiful tapestry of color and light. Azriel held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with his own. He knew that he could never tire of this feeling, of having her in his arms like this.

Sky looked up at him with a smile, her eyes shining with happiness and excitement. "I love this," she breathed.

How very fitting it was for the female that called herself Sky to love flying.

"Good," Azriel said softly, his voice full of warmth. "Because we can do this anytime you want, sweetheart."

They soared higher and higher, until the city below them was nothing but a sparkling sea of lights. Azriel was in his element up here, his wings powerful and graceful as they sliced through the air. He could feel the wind whipping through his hair, the cold night air stinging his skin. But he didn't mind, not with her in his arms. In fact, he felt more alive than he had in months. Years, even.

He flew a loping circle over Velaris, towards the Lake House the shadows had purchased and he thanked them mentally for their foresight. He couldn't very well bring Sky home to the House of Wind...but here...he could take her. It was private and safe...and if the expression of her face was anything to go by, she loved it.

He angled his body towards the Lake House, gliding towards it with expert precision. As they approached, Azriel saw the soft glow of the lights in the windows, the gentle sway of the curtains in the breeze. The lake glittered in the moonlight, the surface of the water undisturbed and serene. It was the perfect place to bring her, a place that he felt she would love just as much as he did.

"You live here?" she wondered, wonder in her voice as she took in the sight.

Azriel felt a warm swell of pride in his chest as he landed smoothly on the deck of the house. "Yes," he said simply, his eyes fixed on her face, watching as she marveled at the house. "I wanted a private place," he admitted. "Somewhere quiet and peaceful, where I could escape from the chaos of my life for a little while.I haven't been there long though, it’s still a work in progress…" he warned her. More like 2 hours before he had met her. "But I love it."

He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he stepped back. "Come on," he said softly, holding out his hand to her. "Let me show you inside."

The shadows skittered inside as soon as he opened the door, like a bunch of little busybodies, rightening the curtains there, fluffing pillows on the couch...It seemed to amuse Sky though. "You must ne...never have to deal with a mes...messy kitchen," she teased him

Azriel chuckled at that. "No, the shadows don't like when things are out of place,”  he admitted.

It wasn't a lie. But then he didn't like it either. 

Like a moth pulled to the flame, Sky was pulled towards his bookcases, fingertips tripping over the spines as she hungrily read the titles.

Azriel suddenly hoped that the shadows had put something other than Sellyn Drake novels in the bookcase, because otherwise he was going to look like a fucking stalker.

He watched with a mix of amusement and apprehension as she examined the bookshelves, his heart pounding in his chest. *Please,* he silently pleaded to the shadows, *please tell me you didn't leave those Sellyn Drake novels on the shelf.* Because if she saw those, it would be disastrous.

The shadows seemed weirdly frozen in place.

"You read Sel...Sellyn Drake?" Sky asked him, sounding delighted and shocked at the same time.

Azriel groaned inwardly, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. "I...yes, I do," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I...There is...I...I need to tell you something."

"Te...Tell me som...something?" Sky asked, turning towards him, these big beautiful eyes staring at him.

"I...It wasn't a coincidence that I was in that bar tonight," he told her, watching as she stared at him. "The shadows told me to go."

"The...The shad...shadows?" she asked him, looking utterly shocked.

"I...I told them...a few weeks ago...to...find me somebody that....that I could love...somebody that I could make happy. A wife," Azriel admitted. "You were the one they picked."

She stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. Azriel braced himself for her reaction, not sure what to expect. Would she be angry? Scandalized? Horrified that he had sent his shadows to find him a wife?

She stared at him wide-eyed. "You...You as…asked yo…your sha..shadows to fi…find you a wi…wife?!" she asked him, repeating his words back at him.

He could feel his cheeks reddening but nodded nonetheless. "...are you angry?" he asked her weakly.

Sky stared at him for a moment, but then she shook her head. "No, No...no, I'm not," she repeated again, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm...I'm flat…flattered, actually...Though...though I am cu..curious what it…what it was about me that...made…made them pick me," she admitted.

For the first time in his life, his shadows talked to somebody other than Azriel. *We thought you would treat Master like you treat your cat,* the shadows told her brightly.

She blinked at the bunch of shadows that had gathered in front of her.

"You...You...You want me to...treat Az..Azriel like...like a cat?" she asked them incrediously.

Azriel spluttered, his cheeks burning with mortification. He hadn't expected the shadows to be so blunt, and the idea of her treating him like a cat was...well, it was absurd, to say the least. He wanted her to be his mate, his equal, not to treat him as if he were some kind of pet.

"No, no," he quickly interjected, trying to salvage the situation. "They...they don't mean it like that, Sky. The shadows have their own...unique way of looking at things. Please just...just forget they ever said that."

Sky fixed him with a look. "What do you mean?" she asked the shadows.

*You love your cat,* the shadows said quickly. *You buy him ridiculous overpriced Tuna, and you let him sleep in your bed and you scratch him behind the ears. You even knitted him a sweater!*

Azriel winced, feeling his embarrassment and mortification rising even further. 

"That...thats not important," he mumbled, feeling like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting from embarrassment. "The shadows...they have a habit of exaggerating things. Just...please, don't take them too seriously. I'm not expecting you to treat me like a cat, I swear."

Sky looked at him, then at the Shadows, then at Azriel again. She seemed to be lost in thought, clearly trying to decipher what the shadows meant.

"You..You want your mas…master to be tre…treated...well?" Sky finally asked the shadows, her tone of voice serious. "You pick…picked me because I...be..because I was nice to my cat?" she asked them curiously.

*You are so kind,* the shadows said softly. And so pretty. And we knew you would treat Master well and wouldn't judge him.*

Sky blushed at the compliment.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as the conversation shifted away from the whole "cat" thing. He had to admit, the shadows were right. Sky had been nothing but kind and considerate towards him since they met, and he was grateful for that. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

"Look...I apologize for the shadows' behavior," he said to Sky, his voice soft. "They can be a bit...blunt, sometimes."

"I…I un…understand where they are com…coming from," she said nearly thoughtfully. "They just...want to see you hap…happy?" she said carefully and he nodded.

"Yes."

"Though they…they don't seem to have much of a sense of boun…boundaries," Sky said with a laugh. "You hid in my apartment didn't you?" she asked the shadows.

Azriel cringed as the shadows seemed to twirl in agreement. He had hoped that particular detail would have gone unnoticed, but he should have known better. Sky was too observant for her own good.

"Yes, they did," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry about that. They...they have a tendency to go where they please."

Sky still mustered the shadows that were twitching in front of her

"I…I prom…promise to t…treat your ma…master well." Sky said seriously. "He's my mate."

Azriel felt his heart skip a beat at her words. The sound of that word coming from her lips made his knees weak.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and taking her hands in his. "And I promise to treat you well too," he swore fervently. 

"And I'll…I’ll even knit him a swea…sweater," Sky continued, looking at the shadows.. "I…I don't know if he likes Tu…tuna, but I'll…buy him some… sweets."

He couldn’t help but laugh at her words, feeling a surge of affection for her that was almost overwhelming. "Sky," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to do any of that for me. Just being with you is more than I could ever ask for.But...if you are willing to knit me a sweater, I surely won't say no to it," he added with a laugh. "And maybe you could try scratching me behind the ears too, just in case the shadows are right."

He meant it as a joke, but there was a part of him that was secretly delighted by the idea of her spoiling and doting on him. Maybe, just maybe, the shadows were onto something after all.

"And...who knows, maybe I'll develop a taste for Tuna," he added, grinning playfully. "As long as it's the fancy kind, that is."

He kissed her forehead gently, holding her close for a moment longer before finally pulling away. "But Sky…you don’t have to do all of that…Just being with you is enough."

She smiled up at him, beautiful and blinding and he couldn't help but kiss her.

As his lips met hers, Azriel felt a wave of warmth and tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the shadows, not the world outside, nothing but her.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. 

"You…You can absolutely sleep in my bed with me," she whispered. "Or I'll sleep in yours," she offered, a grin on her face... and that was all he needed to hear, as he picked her up again.

[felassan]

Lucanis and Crows snippets, under a cut due to spoilers.

How would Viago and Teia react to a Crow Rook being romantically involved with Lucanis? "Teia is going to plan the wedding, and insist that Viago give Rook away at the ceremony. Viago will sigh dramatically, lecture Rook about it, and then spend a week picking out the right gloves to wear." [source]

With Rook romancing Lucanis, is it possible that Spite could become affection or benevolence? "Spite's basic aspect is defiance. He can be more or less difficult depending on influence (rebellion vs. vindictiveness, etc), but at his core he's always going to be a spirit of "NOPE"" [source]

Lucanis' mother was the heir apparent to House Dellamorte [source]

Does Spite have any kind of feeling about Rook? "Spite is fond of Rook in his own Spite-like way. He and Lucanis agree on the point of trusting Rook over and above other people or themselves. He does go to Rook for help with Lucanis, after all." [source]

For the Lion King reference in Murder of Crows, Mary Kirby went to the cinematic animators and described it as Illario's "Scar at Pride Rock" scene [source]

User: "I cut Lucanis' hair and shaved his beard and I almost feel like I should apologise to him" / Mary Kirby: "Now he can't tell himself from Illario, and you've given them both a complex." [source]

Teia and Viago were half-written by Mary Kirby and half-written by Luke Kristjanson [source]

Lucanis likes his coffee black [source]

Would he judge your coffee order? "As long as it's not boiled, or instant coffee, or whatever that stuff from a can is, he's fine with it. Or at least, he will only judge you silently for it." [source]

What kind of treats does Lucanis like? "Sweet, because it goes better with his coffee. Savory, if somehow he is NOT drinking coffee at that moment." [source]

Lucanis grew his beard and long hair while in the Ossuary. "He hasn't exactly had a haircut in a while." [source, two].

Would Lucanis make Powerpoint presentations about jobs or to talk? "No, he doesn't want to talk to anyone, let alone explain things and present them. That's 300% an Illario thing. That man has a powerpoint to introduce his powerpoint about why you should listen to his powerpoint." [source]

"Lucanis would never be on social media. He'd be on YouTube watching videos of people restoring rusty cutlery with no dialogue until four in the morning." [source] Could he tell when content is manufactured? "Yes. And he gets upset and finds Bellara or Neve (whichever is unluckier) to rant about it." [source]

Lucanis' favorite stove burner? Right front [source]

"Spite doesn't have any concept of physical appearances. It looks the way Lucanis sees himself. Lucanis is never relaxed, even in casual wear." [source]

Along with Lucanis Mary Kirby also wrote Spite [source]

Mary Kirby wrote Illario, Luke Kristjanson wrote the Crow faction quests [source]

Lucanis' perfect date night? "I'm gonna be honest: There is a non-zero chance it would involve assassinating somebody and getting coffee, and I'm not entirely certain which would come first." [source]

Lucanis "has so much [trauma] to sort through, and he could really use some help. Like, a Marie Kondo level of help with that." [source]

What sparks joy for Lucanis? "Coffee, paella, wyverns, knives, REDACTED, book club, REDACTED, revenge..." [source]

[razzafrazzle]

thought about how bad venus's old ref looked and it made me so mad i made her a new one. the moral is to always be fueled by spite for your past self

[image description: a reference image for an original character named venus madeline, a fat, dark-skinned woman with brown and blonde afro puffs, round pink-tinted glasses, and freckles. she is wearing teal overalls with a pink sweater underneath with red heart-shaped earrings and a necklace. next to her are blurbs that state that she is 24, that her pronouns are she/her, that she is a pan ace trans woman, and the following: "young goddess of love and general ray of sunshine. loyal, competitive, and optimistic to a fault. loves scrapbooking and photography. trying her hardest to improve at her magical abilities, but has a lot of work to do. often seen with her little brother mars or her qpp, cosmo." end id]

[sweetpupii]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

Let's start by saying Caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“Should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“Caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

[ceratedfish24]

“Scott likes to be in control” babe they all want to be in control. That’s not manipulative behavior. That. That is very normal, to want to be in control of your surroundings during a death game. I’d be more worried about someone who didn’t want to be in control, cause that’s psycho behavior.

Bdubs, Etho, and Tango fight over control of the team every episode. Grian is clearly in control of the Sub Ones. Skizz was extremely in control of TIES in Limited Life and of BEST in Last Life to the point where he has talked about having to reel it in.

Wanting control, whether that manifests as disliking unpredictable components or as giving his life to his allies, is very normal. The former is literally one of the most common reasons why women choose the bear, because a strange man is unpredictable but they know exactly what the bear is going to do, if anything at all. Scott gives his lives to his allies or as a trade, because then he knows where they’re going or what they’re worth. To him, a life of his that isn’t given is a life wasted. He sees his vitality as a resource. This is NOT normal behavior. This is the behavior of someone with very little self-value (now we’re leaning more into character Scott. Cc!Scott is obviously just making competitive decisions) and who recalls being lonely and abandoned.

Stop treating Scott like he’s any worse than anyone else. They are all participating in normal competitive behavior. Except whatever the hell BigB is doing. Why is he so cryptic.

[sbuttnutt]

Some things to remember with Plan B, progestin-only pills, and other emergency contraceptives:

- Plan B is less effective if you're over 150 lbs. Some sources say that taking two increases effectiveness over that weight.

- Plan B HAS to be taken within 72 hours of unprotected sex, and the earlier its taken the better. Stock up if you can!

-Plan B prevents ovulation, and it's not going to work if you've already ovulated for the month. Only take 1 per menstrual cycle.

- Even if you haven't ovulated, it's still not 100%, so always take a pregnancy about 2 weeks after unprotected sex.

-PLAN B IS NOT AN ABORTION!! Again, it just prevents ovulation, it will not harm an existing pregnancy.

-Progestin only birth control pills HAVE to be taken at the same time every day, otherwise the effectiveness decreases considerably.

-There are NO "PLACEBO DAYS" with progestin based birth control pills!

- Combined pills (which is what most people are familiar with: estrogen and progestin) come with a week of sugar pills that people can take to maintain the habit. That's when you get your period. With combined pills it's possible to just not take those pills or start a new pack instead of taking them to skip a period. That is NOT POSSIBLE with progestin pills. You have to take EVERY PILL IN THE PACK!!

-Progestin based methods (progestin pill, Nexplanon, IUD, Depo) can sometimes be better if you have intense migraines (especially with an aura) than estrogen/combined methods (combined pill, patch, nuvaring)

-Medication doesn't quite expire the same way that food does. Anyone with more pharmaceutical knowledge feel free to expand/correct me, but if your only options are to take an expired Plan B or don't take one at all, take the Plan B. OBVIOUSLY, TALK TO A DOCTOR OR PHARMACIST BEFORE YOU DO THIS!! Taking expired meds should be an absolute EMERGENCY LAST RESORT OPTION!!

- If you have health insurance and you're able to go to a doctor/urgent care, see if you can get a prescription for Ella. It's another type of emergency contraceptive (like Plan B) but it's more effective, more consistent, has a higher weight limit, and can be safely taken up to 96 hours after unprotected sex (5 days). However, it's prescription only. See if your provider will put in refills so you can easily and quickly pick it up from a pharmacy if you need another in the future.

-Plan B can also be written as a prescription, therefore covered by insurance! For example, in Colorado, Medicaid will cover the cost of Plan B completely if it's written as a prescription, talk to a pharmacist or your doctor about it!

-Some IUDs can be used as emergency contraception as well as long as they're placed within 96 hours of unprotected sex! In those instances they are over 99% effective as emergency contraception, and you can keep it in to continue to avoid pregnancy for 7-12 years. NOTE: this is ONLY the Paragard (copper, non-hormonal, and good for 10-12 years) and the Mirena/Liletta (hormonal, good for 7-8 years.)

- If nothing else works, use condoms or the pull out method!! It's not 100%, but it's WAYYY better than nothing!

There's obviously so much more to be said about birth control and emergency contraceptives. Please please PLEASE, if you can get pregnant and don't want to, go to a Planned Parenthood, OBGYN, urgent care, primary care physician, or even your pharmacist and create a birth control plan. A lot of pharmacies will have a telehealth program that's very cheap and easy to get prescriptions, and will even provide discount codes for medication if you don't have insurance. With a GoodRX coupon, common birth control pills are like $10 a month, sometimes even cheaper.

There are no morals attached to getting an abortion. As someone who has worked directly with patients in abortion care for over 3 years, I promise you that you are not a bad person if you need one. Many people do, it's a fact of life. But for the majority of people, it is much cheaper and easier to come up with contraceptive plan first.

You don't HAVE to use hormonal birth control, but take some time to come up with a plan! I promise it'll make your life much simpler in the long run.

(PS: There is, of course, much more nuance to this than I've addressed. Not everyone can take hormonal birth control, but if you're in the US or somewhere else that severely limits abortion, it is YOUR responsibility to come up with a contraceptive plan. There are tons of non-hormonal options, and honestly some of them really suck, but they're ALL better at preventing pregnancy than no contraception at all.)

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years

(Also, you can get 4 months of over the counter birth control (progestin-only pill form) at Costco for $50. Or 3 months on Amazon for about $45.)

[toxicanonymity]

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.

Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.

When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“Wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.

When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it’s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “Ya got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

---

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

[verycoolusername1]

Don't think you understand

Summary: Quinn can't get ahold of his feelings, which leads him to push you away unintentionally.

Track 8 of short n' sweet - dumb & poetic

Warning! Slight miscommunication

A/N: This does have a happy ending :) and it's short. I apologize for that!! I just wanted to post something for the short n sweet masterlist(been delaying it)

And I gave you guys a bridgerton love confession kinda so enjoy that lmao

You haven't talked to him in weeks. The man was your best friend and you haven't talked to him in two months, how did this even happen?

Hmm, maybe when you had confessed your feelings to Quinn around the same time, you left without an answer, analyzing the blank look on his face, bringing enough of one for you.

This was your fifth tub of ice cream in two weeks, while on a call with Luke(and Jack, who also joined the supposed gossip session).

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Jack said, collecting his thoughts. "You told him you were in love with him, and he didn't say anything or have any reaction which led to you two not talking anymore?"

"Well, it certainly helps hearing it out loud." You grumbled.

"Sorry! I just need to recap so I know why I have to slap him when I next see him." Jack mutters the last part.

"You know, for him being the oldest, he sure is stupid." Luke chuckles.

"Pretty sure I'm the stupid one here, I mean, I thought he actually liked me back." You smiled Sadly.

"You think he doesn't like you in that way?" Jack asked, you nodded.

"Yeah, no, Quinn's definitely in love with you, Y/N. Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way his eyes seem to shine brighter when he talks about you." Luke shrugged.

"Okay, now you guys are feeding into my delusions." You rolled your eyes. "I lost my best friend because I couldn't control my feelings about him. And now I'm sitting on my kitchen floor, crying to Conan Gray while eating Ben & Jerry's."

There was a sudden knock on your door. Who could that be? It was late in the night in Vancouver.

"I'll be right back guys, don't hang up." You warned.

You walked up to the door and looked through the peephole and saw the man of the house standing on the other side. You unlocked it. How could you not?

"Quinn? What are you doin-?" You were cut off with Quinn kissing you passionately. You melted in the kiss before slowly breaking apart.

"I'm in love with you too." Quinn confessed. "I think I've been in love with you the moment I saw you falling off the swing when we were kids, if I'm being honest. It's very easy to fall in love with someone as special, charming, kind, heartless, caring, and comforting as you. I can't imagine being with anyone else other than you. And I don't even want to think about how sorry I am for not realizing it until now. But I love you Y/N, and I don't think I can ever stop - No, I know that I can't and won't."

Now it your time to be in shock.

"I understand if I'm too late, I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry for kissing you. I just wanted to know what it felt if it was the only time -" You cut Quinn off by kissing him.

"I love you too." You whispered. "Gosh you're so dumb and poetic."

Quinn chuckles. "What does that even mean?" He followed you into the house.

"Y/N!!! Did you get kidnapped? Omg Luke what if we gotta call the cops and tell them what happened and we gotta tell them she was crying about our idiotic brother-"

"Jack shut up." Luke looked at his brother bewildered.

"I'm just saying, could be a possibility." Jack mutters.

"I'm not dead guys." You picked up the phone.

"Y/N! You're alive. What happened? Who was at the door?" Luke asked, Jack chuckling behind him.

"Oh you know just this really hot guy." You answered simply.

"Okay? How hot was he? Is he gonna make you get over Quinn?" Jack asked.

"Very hot and no." You answered.

Quinn came into frame behind you, kissing you on your neck.

Jack and Luke's jaw drops. "No way!" "What the hell?"

"There are children present in this conversation, you guys are disgusting." Jack gestured to Luke who shoved him in response. "I'm 21!"

"Bye guys." Quinn hung up the phone.

"That was rude, you know." You looked back at him.

"I know, I just wanted to kiss you without them bickering." Quinn mumbles.

"And to think I was just crying over you not too long ago." You recalled.

"I'll make up for every tear you shed for my stupidity, I promise." Quinn's nose brushes yours.

"I know you will." You leaned in closer.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ʟ ɪ ʜ ᴀ ᴠ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Show Aegon II Targaryen x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

˚꒰notes꒱‧ English is not my first language. Gifs belong to @joekeerys. Hope you enjoy!

Aegon never wanted the throne, never wanted the responsibilities that came with it, but what he does want is you. From the moment you entered his life, everything changed. You’re the one thing that makes sense to him, the one thing that feels right. Aegon is a mess of conflicting desires, plagued by his trauma, but when it comes to you, his love is the only thing he’s sure of.

Aegon has never had anyone in his life who genuinely cared about him. His family is fractured, and he’s spent his whole life drowning in self-loathing. But when you show him the slightest bit of affection, it’s like a drug. He needs it, needs you. You’re his lifeline, the one person who can make him feel like he’s worth something.

He’s incredibly clingy. Every time he sees you, he’s either hanging off of you, resting his head on your shoulder, or playing with your hair. It’s as if he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a moment. His hands are always on you, in a way that’s both affectionate and a little too possessive.

“I can’t stand it when you’re away,” he’d murmur, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay with me. Always stay with me.”

Aegon’s insecurities run deep, and that means he’s always on edge when it comes to other people. He’s constantly worried that someone will take you away from him, that you’ll realize you deserve better and leave him behind. His jealousy is all-consuming, and he has no problem making sure anyone who even looks at you the wrong way knows you belong to him.

If someone tries to get close to you, Aegon’s mood shifts instantly. His playful, drunken demeanor turns cold, his eyes narrowing as he watches every move they make around you. He doesn’t trust anyone—not your friends, not your family, and especially not his own family. In his mind, they’re all threats, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you to himself.

“No one will ever love you like I do,” he’d say, his voice low and serious. “You know that, don’t you?”

He needs to know everything about you—where you are, who you’re with, what you’re thinking. He’ll start off subtly, asking about your day, wanting to know every little detail. But soon, it becomes more than that. He wants to control every aspect of your life, making sure that you’re always with him, always safe, always his.

He’s the type to show up unannounced, drunk and demanding your attention, whether you want to give it or not. If you try to push him away, he’ll sulk, using his own pain and insecurities to guilt you into staying by his side. It’s manipulative, but in his twisted mind, he thinks he’s doing it out of love.

“You’re mine,” he’d whisper, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

Aegon knows he’s not the perfect prince (and later king). He’s flawed, broken, and he hates himself for it. But when it comes to you, he’ll use that brokenness to his advantage. Whenever you try to pull away, he’ll remind you of how much he needs you, how lost he’d be without you. He’s not afraid to play the victim, to make you feel like leaving him would be the cruelest thing in the world.

He’ll come to you late at night, drunk and miserable, talking about how everyone hates him, how he’s not good enough for you. His words are filled with self-pity, and he’ll cling to you, practically begging you to reassure him that you’ll stay.

“You’re the only one who cares about me,” he’d say, his voice cracking with desperation. “Don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

For all his selfishness, Aegon genuinely believes he’s protecting you. The world is dangerous, full of people who would hurt you or take you from him. In his mind, he’s the only one who can keep you safe. He’ll go to any lengths to ensure that no one can harm you—not even your family or friends if he thinks they’re a threat.

He’ll isolate you if he has to, keeping you away from anyone who might try to come between you. He’ll even use his power as king to keep you locked away, safe in the Red Keep where no one can touch you. To him, it’s an act of love—protecting you from the dangers of the world.

“I’m doing this for you,” he’d say, his eyes wild with a mix of desperation and affection. “No one will hurt you if you’re with me. I’ll burn anyone who tries.”

Aegon’s love for you is twisted, born out of his own pain and insecurities, but it’s real. In his mind, you’re the only thing keeping him together. He’s broken, damaged by years of neglect and abuse, and you’re the only one who makes him feel whole. He’ll do anything to keep you by his side, even if it means crossing lines no one else would dare to cross.

He’s the kind of lover who would rather see you dead than let you leave him. If he can’t have you, then no one can. His love is suffocating, dangerous, and all-consuming. But in the end, he truly believes that he’s doing it all because he loves you.

“You don’t understand,” he’d say, tears in his eyes as he holds you close. “You’re all I have. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ