#and it was like. ideal conditions for cooking

[nomairuins]

cooking is hell

[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[drdemonprince]

just like going through the members of my family and my friend groups one by one, i can't think a single damn person i know who does not have a disability. ARFID. Autism. Metal rod in the spine. Arthritis. Cancer in remission. Long-term effects of repeated concussions. Bad back. Exhaustion. Crohn's. EDS. More Autism and ADHD. Migraines. Periods that lay them out for a week. Chronic depression. Alcoholism. Bipolar. Cataracts.

I do not know a single person who is not disabled, typically in multiple ways, and we all face increased disability as a natural consequence of aging. Literally every person on the planet becomes disabled on a long enough timeline. Yet we still talk about disability and organize around it as if it isn't social, economic, and contextual. people treat disability as an innate quality that some people have and some people do not have, and as if there is some large class of intrinsically abled people who are benefiting under capitalism and are withholding the fruits of their abilities from us or something.

i saw this post on twitter months ago that was like "I need people to understand that if you are in a relationship with a disabled person you are going to have to do more than them. you're not disabled and so you're going to have to do more of the work (around the house, logisticially, etc). that is what you owe them as an abled person."

and it just baffled me. because i have only ever seen disabled people in relationships with other disabled people, caring for one another in a stitched-together, messy web of interdependence and missed deadlines and dirty dishes and acceptance and love, not because disabled people are ontologically more generous than non-disabled people but because non-disabled people don't even actually exist.

the mythological abled person who can work a full time job, keep a clean home, do all the dishes, buy all the groceries, cook all the meals, run all the errands, stay on top of all the bills, carry everything, dash up the stairs, stand on their feet for hours, and have boundless energy without any mental consequences to that does not exist. it's an ideal created to oppress us all. it is an impossible standard the reification of which disables us all.

there is no one on this planet who is not disabled under capitalism and colonialism. there are only people who lack the class consciousness to recognize that they're disabled.

it's gonna have to be us taking care of one another. it's going to be the disabled caring for the disabled. it always will be that. that is the human condition.

[pedgito]

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas. 

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately. 

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home. 

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily. 

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be. 

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming. 

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily. 

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so. 

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

-

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl. 

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

 You shouldn’t even consider it. 

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

-

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much. 

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed. 

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice. 

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t. 

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more. 

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch. 

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

-

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing. 

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you. 

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise. 

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly. 

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

-

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal. 

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way. 

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be. 

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

-

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying. 

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

-

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

 Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

-

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care. 

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck. 

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them. 

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face. 

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in. 

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed. 

-

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted. 

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings. 

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks. 

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months. 

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel. 

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

[emil1863]

More for the au!

The basics, Gods, Demigods, Devil Fruits, all exist.

World Gov + Marines try and keep the whole concept of gods and demigods under wraps. Because I'm working with "D's" carry divinity. And having a good chunk of them outright despise the government isn't a great look.

Luffy is a god while Garp and Dragon are demigods. Luffy can shift between physical and 'divine' form whereas demigods don't have that ability.

Luffy is the successor/inheritor of his predecessor's will and own divinity. But not through reincarnation necessarily. One in the same but they are very much so different. His devil fruit and promise to Shanks cemented his place as the successor to the sun and freedom. When gods and demigods start out, there isn't a wholly set future for what will they will have, or the ideals they will embody. Luffy has always had his cloudy/intangible form.

Imagine Garp's surprise when his grandson, who was supposed to join him in the marines, is set to embody freedom and the sun. He was pissed for a solid week about that. Garp also had to deal with questioning where Dragon had even gotten Luffy from, he still doesn't know.

Ace and Sabo were very adamant that Luffy not show off his divine form to everyone, especially if he wanted to become a pirate. He can't be a pirate if the government tracks him down and hides him away at the ripe age of like, 8. Also because having a full god is pretty uncommon, Sabo has heard horror story after horror story of what nobles and those in higher society would do to a god. Sabo is the most vocal about Luffy being careful about that.

Luffy meets Koby, and does an absolutely terrible job at keeping his form hidden. It's harder to control which form he's in when he's excited. Koby was a human with no divinity and big dreams that Luffy adored. So, already excited with a new friend, and the two on their way to Shells town, Luffy sneezed and immediately sold himself out. Koby is a terrible liar and so just elects to never speak on this topic ever. If anyone asks why he has so much knowledge on gods, specifically sun gods, he just doesn't answer. Helmeppo thinks it's funny and immediately pieced together why, because Koby cannot keep anything from him. And Garp has to respect how hard that kid is trying to not completely sell out his grandson, even if the brat kind of deserves it for being a pirate.

Luffy is going to be the Pirate King, divine or not. His crew quickly find out about his side quirk/form in varying ways. Zoro woke up one day with a cloudy demon from hell cutting off his airways. Nami was trying to explain clouds to Luffy and that 'no, they cannot just spawn on your person, that's stupid,' and so Luffy shows her that he is in fact, correct.

Usopp got jumpscared early in the morning, before the sun had risen, when Luffy just appeared behind him and asked if he wanted to watch the sunrise. Sanji was cooking dinner and Luffy got so excited he phased out of his physical body.

Chopper found out while asking Luffy if he had any medical conditions he should know about, he thought it was kinda cool that Luffy can change forms. And is only a little jealous that Luffy has a fully human form. Luffy always makes sure to tell Chopper he's exactly who he needs to be.

Robin found out after talking about 'Nika,' who is thought to be long dead, but is not. And is the captain of the crew she is now apart of. Luffy knows the name is important and it has a certain weight when it's said. He physically feels when someone says his name around him. Robin thinks this is very fascinating. (Also can add some context into poneglyphs, that there is a lot to it, even if Robin doesn't yet know and Luffy wasn't alive/doesn't have that knowledge)

Franky was showing off cool shit he could do with his robotic body, and Luffy was like 'me too!!!'

Brook found out when Luffy fell asleep listening to him play a song, and Luffy slipped back into his resting form of cloudiness.

While both forms have their uses and limitations, Luffy is most comfortable in his intangible form, even if his physical one is the default. He cannot access his divine form after a certain point of exhaustion hits.

Im going to end that there before I have an entire novel in this. But that's the general thought throw up I'm smacking down right now.

Sorry if this is incoherent and not easy to understand lol. I will flesh it out more later and when I have actually thought more about it. Might change things later too. Then I'll probably make a good post about it with actual wellish made context and lore.

[spookmemepls]

☠ ― 𝑀𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. (𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑛, 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒(𝑠).)

💤 - How does your muse sleep? Are they a light sleeper, or are they out the moment their head hits the pillow? Do they nap? Do they struggle to sleep due to things like insomnia, or nightmares?

❤️ - How did your muse come to realize their romantic and sexual orientations? Was it difficult to accept? Are they proud of who they are?

🧸 - Does your muse own any sentimental objects from their past? What makes it/them so special?

🛍 - Does your muse like to go shopping? What do they usually shop for? What kind of stores do they frequent?

🍔 - What kind of food does your muse usually eat? Do they have a favorite food, or favorite style of food? Do they have allergies? Are they vegan, vegetarian, etc.?

🍺 - How does your muse feel about the consumption of alcohol? Do they drink? Are they a heavy drinker, or are they on the lighter side? What's your muse's favorite alcoholic drink?

🎩 - What would your muse wear to a formal event? Do they dress more modestly, or do they go all out?

👠 - What kind of shoes does your muse usually wear? What is most comfortable for them in regards to footwear? Can your muse walk in high heels?

🎸 - Can your muse play any instruments? Do they play them often, or rarely? How actually skilled are they at playing them?

🎤 - Can your muse sing well? Do they sing often? If they were to stand up in front of a crowd, would they be able to sing in front of all of those people?

🗺️ - How often does your muse travel? Do they like to travel? Would they prefer to travel alone, or with friends? Where have they been? What was their favorite trip?

😖 - Does your muse have any embarrassing moments that they still think about? Do they laugh at them, or do they haunt them?

⛄️ - What would be your muse's ideal weather conditions? Do they prefer being hot or cold? What's their favorite season?

💘 - What is your muse like when they're in love? What does your muse find attractive in someone else? What are their love languages? How do they show affection? Do they show any distinct signs that they're in love?

🍡 - Can your muse cook? Can they bake? How well can they do either? Do they have any kitchen disaster stories?

⚾️ - Does your muse enjoy sports? Do they play any, or do they simply prefer to watch? Do they have a favorite sport?

🤸‍♀️ - How active is your muse? Do they exercise regularly? Do they do things like yoga? What else do they do to keep fit and active? Are they flexible? Can they do parkour?

👻 - How does your muse handle feeling scared? Do they enjoy horror? Do they believe in the paranormal? What calms your muse down? Do they have any scary stories?

🦵 - Does your muse have any physical ailments? How do they live with them?

🧠 - Does your muse have any mental ailments? How do they live with them?

🎶 - What kind of music does your muse listen to? Do they have a favorite genre? Do you think the aux cord would be taken away from them?

[astrobiscuits]

Astro observations part 8

[LONG EDITION] - taken from my phone's notes (also, i was too lazy to edit it so here's a nice chunk of info)

🍂 Sun conjunct Saturn individuals inherit mindsets from the father, grandparents or great-grandparents. They might never fully act like their Sun sign (aka "shine"), since they've been conditioned from a young age to listen to parents, teachers, and later on bosses. They are the type to never divorce, no matter how toxic their marriage is. If these peeps deal well with their Saturn Return, they might become "THE BOSS" (aka the person everyone looks up to due to how accomplished, disciplined and rich they are, they've literally got their shit together and deserve a round of applause, "it wasn't easy to get to the top, but it was worth it" - you might hear them say this). They are also more prone to ingrain stoic principles in their lifestyle

🍂 Mars square Neptune gives off major cult leader vibes. They're the type to fool you with false promises until you sign up for their "camp" but then you realize it's actually an evil cult where all they wanna do is put you to work (and maybe later even kill you lol). These individuals become very scary when angry (you don't wanna see them angry, trust me). If they ever commit suicide, it'll be by drowning, alcohol or drugs

🍂 Mars trine Neptune is one of the best aspects for those who make a living off their talents. The talent depends on the element the trine is in:

If it's in Earth signs - ideal for those who work in the "money handling sector" in advertising, becoming an entrepeneur, holistic care (if Virgo is involved), cooks, those who work in interior design, seamstresses, embroidery/lace makers, models, event planners If it's in Air signs - ideal for those who work in sales (their negotiation skills are ✨chef's kiss👌����✨), becoming a spiritual/religious teacher or an art/music/any other creative pursuit teacher (lmao, i can't even speak💀💀), writers, musicians, magicians and astrologers (for the last two - if Aquarius is involved) If it's in Fire signs - ideal for dancers, theater/movie actors, hairstylists, circus performers, photographers (only if Leo is involved) If it's in Water signs - ideal for make-up artists, painters, tarot readers

🍂 Moon sextile Uranus individuals have got the ability to create a positive parasocial relationship with their followers. Since these people often use their devices to validate their emotions, i wouldn't be surprised if most of y'all also have atleast one active profile where you post quite frequently

PRO TIP: Whenever Transit Jupiter is trining/conjuncting your Natal Uranus (to a less extent also the sextile), you'll get a sudden boost in your followers count

🍂 This is a theory of mine that i've come up with and i'd love to hear your thoughts on it. When it comes to intergenerational astrology, i do believe that we inherit all of our personal planets placements from our parents and ancestors. But then you might say "But i don't act like my mother at all! This is bullshit!". I'm not saying we're all carbon copies of our family members. What makes us unique and distinguishes us from our parents and grandparents (or even great-grandparents) are the way the planets aspect each other in our birth charts and the planetary configurations between them. Basically we start from the same ground, but we all use our traits differently, whether for the better or the worst expression of them. Let's not forget that we also tend to go through different life experiences than our parents and grandparents; we might be blessed with different opportunities that might enhance our best traits and help us achieve what our ancestors always wanted to but weren't able to

Hope you enjoyed today's post, loves!💗💗💗 I've been wanting to post for a while now but my inspiration has been wandering alone in the Sahara Desert I can't promise that i'll start posting again more frequently (the new uni year is starting soon for me + i enrolled in a local astrology school 2 weeks ago🥳🥳 ya girl can't wait to officially become an astrologer) but my inbox will be open again for further questions! I must also thank you for helping me hit 500 followers!!! I'm probably gonna do another ask game once i hit 600 followers, as i'm too busy right now. As always, don't forget to drink water and take care of yourselves! Hope to see you soon! ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[fuyuu-chan]

Sung Jin Woo as the Ideal BF (Headcanons)

Pairing: Sung Jin Woo x Reader

Fuyuu-chan: y'all im too tired to fix this 😭 this is all mixed up (I want to add more but my brain won't work rn since im thinking of some other things so this is a bit short. I might edit this someday...maybe)

Warnings: not proofread (yet again)

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

~ Jin woo who always picks you up after work.

~ Jin woo who would always support you and be there for you whenever you need him. He would be your moral support. He would also comfort you if you have a bad day.

~ Jin woo would also be your cuddle buddy, he would rub your back and spoon you until you fall asleep in his arms, he would even hum you a song if you have a hard time sleeping.

~ Jin woo who always made time for you at the end of the day, he scheduled all his raids and other work at the morning and afternoon so he could spend time for you at night. So your dates would mostly be evening dates.

~ Jin woo who also makes breakfast for you before he goes to work with sticky note containing different messages. (he does that whenever it's your day off so you could sleep in, it's his way to return the favor since you always makes breakfast for the two of you)

~ Jin woo who also enjoys movie nights, reading, cuddling, cooking/baking, whatever it is as long as you do it with him he enjoys it. He even joins you in your skincare and ever sonce that day it became your routine to do it with Jin woo.

~ I also imagine that you also started to join Jin woo in his exercises (which is his daily quest). At first you only get to join in his runs and since you don't want to push yourself too hard its only half the run, but as time passed you get to join him in his other exercises with his help.

~ Jin woo always tells you when he suddenly needed to go to work. And he always makes up for it even after you told him its fine. Like giving you a bouquet of flowers whether that would be real or crochet (crochet if you are allergic to real flowers) and some other stuff you like, for example things that involves your hobbies.

~ Jin woo also calls you on his break or lunch time.

~ Of course how could I forget. Jin woo would definitely have his shadows near you all the time so they would be able to help you and he could also make sure that you're safe. He promised both you and himself to protect you at all cost.

~ Jin woo who always monitors your cycle so when it happens, your comfort food, drinks, necessities, your gadgets, your book and more its all there beside you while you lay there in bed comfortably. And when he comes back he would cuddle you.

~ Jin woo who also takes care of you when you are sick. He would take a day off just to take care of you, but when you can handle yourself or your condition isn't that bad he would go to work, (because you forced him to even though he don't want to leave you alone, but of course would definitely make sure his shadows are there to keep you company and take care of you while he is out) though he would call from time to time to check up on you, and he would definitely go home earlier.

~ After you recover from your sickness, Jin woo would take you out wherever you want to go. But still looking out for you so you won't get sick again.

~ Jin woo when every anniversary he have different surprises for you and he's so creative on planning it all including the things you love and like currently at that time.

~ Jin woo who would drop hints that he planned you two a vacation out of country to the country you hoped to visit. He planned it all when the day before the flight he told you that you two would leave the next day and when you asked where you two are going he simply said "you'll find out". And because you trust him you just nod and smiled. (Oh and he explained how you don't have to worry about your work since he called and excused you for a week, and he also packed your stuff)

~ The entire time on your vacation Jin woo handled everything, like you dont have to worry about a single thing, he is all prepared. And for your vacation plan, he did scheduled the day and time were you two would visit those places that you two would enjoy, and he left some few days for you to pick on what to do at those days either that would be rest, shopping or if you want to visit the places you just discovered along the way.

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other Social media, Thank you.

[chuulyssa]

haii can i req prompt 3 w fyodor, chuuya and ranpo :3

↷ A/N ─ this could've been better but its not bad lmao 😭 ily non :3

★ PROMPT ─ 3

!! FT. ─ chuuya, ranpo, fyodor

meeting your parents

─ CHUUYA

Chuuya was just a bit nervous, to say the least, about meeting his future in-laws - or so you would've thought if you hadn't seen his condition. He was panicking. You had never seen this man more scared. To think that many of Yokohama's best gangsters were afraid of this man, you thought.

He immediately booked a reservation for the most expensive restaurant in the city and picked out his best fit, even going as far as buying a whole new dress for you as an "early wedding gift", since you were so sure they'd love him.

And love him, they did. Although he practically had mental breakdowns after every sentence during the first half of his conversation with them, when you squeezed his hand and told him everything was going to be okay, he calmed down and became more at ease.

Chuuya was hesitant about speaking about his career choice. If your parents were natives of Yokohama, they were sure to recognize him by his name too. These insecurities had plagued his mind all day. But in the end, everything had worked out. Chuuya was accepted by your parents and became a new addition to your little family.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

─ RANPO

When you told Ranpo it was probably time he met your parents, he just shrugged and asked if there'd be extra candy there. However, as soon as he realized the situation, he started panicking.

Meeting your parents? Him? Next week? Why?

Would they like him? Would he be enough for them? What if you had to dump him because they didn't like him? No, that only happened in movies. What if he accidentally embarrassed you? What if he didn't meet their expectations? Would you still love him?

His usually confident demeanour had dissolved and all your parents were met with was a shy, quiet man. After a few unsuccessful conversations, you pulled him aside to have a talk. A little hug and a kiss on the lips seemed to have solved the problem then, and when he returned, he was much more cheerful.

He impressed your father with his knowledge about the latter's various hobbies, and your mother was delighted by how he spoke of her favourite TV shows and series as if he was a huge fan of them.

Ranpo, as well as his love for food, were also welcome when he complimented your mother's cooking, among many other things. Needless to say, you were happy about how he fit in with your family.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

─ FYODOR

Fyodor was always very serious about things like marriage and bonding. So, naturally, he had been looking forward to the meeting with your parents.

Your parents visited your shared house, and they were pleasantly surprised, to say the least. The house was flawless, and your boyfriend, even more.

Although Fyodor had had secret nerve-wrecks here and there, he never actually showed it to you. All you knew was that he had an eerily calm mindset as always. Even in front of your family, he was cool and composed, always saying the right thing at the right time.

He complimented your mother, and she was charmed. He talked about your father's interests, and he was ecstatic. It was as if all of this was too easy for Fyodor. He knew just how to meet and greet people.

Well, of course, your parents loved him; how could they not? He was kind, respectful, smart, witty and knowledgeable. Even though he wasn't as outspoken about his career, and may have lied his way out of their questions a few times, Fyodor seemed like an ideal son-in-law.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

---

@daza-ii

[cookybananas]

Into You - Unburnt!Darth Vader x Reader

authors note: y'all can't stop me from writing unburnt/vader fics

summary: your husband, Lord Vader, is awfully cold towards you. Until one day, he begins to open up to you

"Let me into your heart..." You begged to your husband, whose backside faced you. His large frame faced the large window to your shared bedroom. "Can't you see my devotion to you? How much I-"

"Silence!" Vader barked, already growing annoyed at your words. You quickly shut yourself up, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration at him now. It had been 6 months since you had wed the Emperor's right hand man. From the start of the marriage, you had been nothing but a loyal wife who cared for him, despite him not showing his feelings for you in return.

As a former princess, your parents had stressed that you needed to learn how to be the ideal wife for your future husband ever since you were young. They had enrolled you into sewing classes and medical classes, believing that these traits would serve you well. Your mother had taught you to cook as well. She had always said that the fastest way to a man's heart was his stomach, and that meant that you had a cook a feast fit for king, and in this case, it was your husband, Lord Vader.

The efforts you had went through to show Vader your faithfulness to him were tiresome. At first, you had convinced yourself he just didn't know how to express his feelings towards you, but you were delusional. You now beginning to think he simply wasn't interested in you, but you wouldn't give up on him, and you didn't know why.

Even if you felt lonely, you knew the purpose of your marriage was to serve the Sith Lord, and only him. At times, you find had yourself missing your parents, your people, and being on a physical planet. You hated living on the Death Star, the grey interior sucked the life out of you. It didn't help that you could only stare into the dark and vast universe that had surrounded you.

-

Vader had sensed that you had been feeling distressed and had offered you a getaway in one of the luxurious penthouses on Coruscant, to which you happily took him on that offer, hoping that he would also join you the duration you were there. Unfortunately, he would only be there for a few days before the Emperor had requested his presence in the outer rim territories.

On the second night of your luxurious stay at the large penthouse, you began to do one of the many activities that helped you ease your mind: cooking. The two guards whom you had gave the task to retrieve your groceries had returned. Vader had entrusted them to look after you while he was gone for the time being.

After putting the groceries in their rightful place, you began prepping the ingredients for some bivoli tempari with a side of calamari chowder. Cooking was an escape for you; you didn't have to worry about anyone or anything else as you let your mind and hands wander, it felt like second nature to you.

The oven beeps, telling you that the bivoli tempari had finished baking. You finished setting the utensils on the table for you and the two guards, you thought that they could accompany you and that they would probably enjoy this meal better than the cafeteria food on the Death Star. They were a bit hesitant at first, perhaps worried that Darth Vader could walk in at any given moment, knowing that he wouldn't like the idea of his guards getting close to his wife.

To your surprise, the two guards were very easy to talk to. You discovered that their names were Knox and Adam, both very simple men who had the goal to fulfill their duty and were passionate about the Empire. You began to feel at ease, feeling more comfortable in the penthouse after having dinner with the two soldiers.

-

On the fifth day of your stay, Vader had surprised you by showing up two days earlier than his expected date. The doors to the elevator revealed a Vader in critical condition, you rush over to him, dragging him into the living room to patch him up. This wasn't the first time you had to patch him up. There were times your husband would come into your chambers injured after a mission. Other times he would wake you up to help him put on a batch patch on his back, but this time, he needed more than that. What felt natural to you, you began strip him of his black clad armor to get to the wounds.

"The...The helmet." He said weakly, his modulated breathing was hitched. Your eyes widen at his request, you had never seen him without his helmet before. Your hands were shaky as they slowly made their way to undoing the outer shell of the helmet, lifting it up from the neck gaiter.

"Maker..." You whispered under your breath, eyes widening at how gorgeous the man that sat in front of you was. His yellow colored eyes met your e/c orbs. His sandy curls were damp from the sweat he accumulated during combat. Your husband's hitched breathing brought you back to reality as you began to analyze his body from injuries.

He had a large gash on his left shoulder and ribs. You run into the kitchen to retrieve your medical box, now opening it on the table you began to work on him right away.

The atmosphere between the both of you was silent, but tense. Not a single word was muttered, other than Vader's occasional hisses of pain when you applied some bacta ointment on his wounds. An hour had passed while you had patched your husband up, without thinking, your e/c orbs met his as you cup his cheek with your hand.

"I'll make some soup to make you feel better hun." You kissed his forehead before walking back into the kitchen. It was in your nature to be nuturing, it was perhaps one of your best attributes that many people loved about you. For Vader, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, despite all the things he had put you through, you were forgiving and still cared for him. He felt he didn't deserve the woman like you.

Vader remained on the couch, his hands in his head, still stunned at what you did. It was the first time you had touched him, the first time you kissed him in way that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

A feminine hum shook him out of his thoughts, when he turned around, he was met with your backside torwards him. You were swaying your hips, as you hummed along to one of your favorite artists, Kuma Marden.

Vader couldn’t help but stare in awe, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile at you immersed into the music as you cooked. He didn't know what overcame him, but he knew he couldn't just sit there helplessly as you cooked.

“Allow me to help you my dear.” Your eye slightly widen at his suggestion, before you quickly nodded at him. Vader raises his hand toward the cupboards where the silverware and plates were. Using the force, Vader motioned the now, floating utensils and plates into the direction of the dinner table. You chuckled at Vader’s helpfulness as he carefully set the table with the use of the force.

“Take a seat darling, dinner is almost ready.” Your soft, yet gentle voice rung through his ears. With a screech from the chair, Vader plopped himself down in the chair that was head of the table. You made your way over to him, holding bowl containing some sort of stew that was steaming hot. Vader’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the bowl in front of him. It had been years since he had last seen something this appetizing.

With his hunger gnawing at him, Vader dug into the hearty stew. Glancing over at your husband, you couldn’t help but smile at his hastiness, before returning your focus on layering some jogan fruit on the purple-filled tart. The sound of the spoon hitting the table had made you nervous. “What’s wrong? Do you not like it dear?” You stopped in your tracks, whipping your head where your husband sat, growing nervous at his response.

"This is...This is very delicious my dear." He uttered out before digging back in. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself, content that you were able to satisfy your husband. What you didn't know, memories had began flooding into Vader's mind. The stew you had made had a familiar taste, if not the exact same taste of a soup his mother had made for him when he was a youngling.

"Well, make sure you leave some room for dessert then honey." You reply, slicing a piece of the jogan tart and plating for him. You place the plate in front of him. Realizing your husband was still shirtless, you go fetch one of his black robes that hung in the closet in the bedroom.

You had just missed the look on his face. Vader loved jogan fruit, and for it to be in tart form? Even better. He began scarfing down the dessert the moment you had turned your back.

Returning to the dining room, you see Vader washing away the plates he had just finished eating off from. Noticing you out the corner of his eye, he turned off the sink, wiping his hands dry on one of kitchen towels. You make your way over to him, helping him put on his black robe. He turns around to face you, allowing you to tie his robe altogether.

Sensing his gaze on you, you look up to him and give him a small smile before walking away to finish cleaning up, not giving him the chance to thank you for the dinner. Vader stood there, slightly hurt at your action.

The both you spent your evening winding down separately from each other. He could swear you were force sensitive or something, especially whenever he walked into a room you were in, you were quick to pardon yourself into a different room. He was getting just a tad bit annoyed, was he really that awful to stare at? Was he really that intimidating for you to be around?

He had found you in bed, sitting against the headboard, reading away at one of your books. Vader removes his robe and throws it on the vanity chair, leaving himself shirtless. Still immersed in your book, you feel the bed dip next to you, as your husband lets out a sigh of content after getting into a comfortable position.

For once, you sensed that your husband was finally opening up to you. Never did you ever see his face before going to bed or waking up. He had always made sure you didn't catch a glimpse of his actual face, maybe he was afraid of what your reaction would be.

You could feel his eyes burning through your skull. Beginning to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, you decided to speak up.

"How was your day hun?" Attempting to ease the awkwardness that had formed between the both of you. He didn’t respond, but you felt him grab your right hand that had been resting on your side. He began tracing your palm of your hand with his metal pointer finger, making you look over at him.

Now that he had your attention, your eyes lock on each other, your breath hitches at his intense yellow eyes.

"Sometimes I don't appreciate you enough my darling." He whispered to you. You were taken aback at his words, never did he speak such words to you, or just speak to you in general.

"Those rebels really got you messed up today don't they?" You poke at him, recalling that his physical state a couple of hours ago. Vader chuckled at your words.

"You could think that...But I mean it, really." His sincerity showing through.

You shut your book and place on the nightstand, unsure what to say to him. You couldn't run away from him this time.

"Perhaps you should get some rest." You suggest, wanting to avoid where the conversation was leading to. Turning off the lamp, you lay down on your side, your back facing him now.

Vader was starting to grow upset at your dismissive behavior, but he knew why you were acting this way. He had realize how cold he had been to you since the start of your arranged relationship. He never wanted this, but of course the Emperor had forced this upon him. He knew one day you would be collateral damage if something were to go wrong.

The past few months, Vader had been dealing with some inner turmoil. Conflicted with the idea of falling in love, the idea of falling in love with you. But now, he was desperate for your attention, deprived of it. Without thinking, Vader moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

At first, he could feel how tense you were, but you soon relaxed in the comfort of his large, strong arms. Your heart was beating fast against your ribcage. Vader was never physical with you, but you couldn't help but enjoy this very moment. Everything you had wanted to him to do, you were given it tonight. You knew it would take time for him to come around. Realizing your actions may have been hurtful to him, you turn around and face him.

“Perhaps I was too little rude to you.” You whisper to him. Your hand cupping his cheek.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb gentle grazing the bottom of your lip. “May I?”

“Y-you may.” You breathlessly let out. His lips finding its way to yours.

His lips were soft against your plush lips. You pull away from him, trying to process what had happened. You rest your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.” You murmur, now resting your head on his chest, your arms snaking around his torso, tightly embracing him.

Vader couldn’t help smile to himself at your words. As you began to slip into your slumber, he couldn’t help but comb his fingers through your hair before dozing off himself. Perhaps he should keep you around longer.

-

authors note: thanks for reading yall!! xx

[blubushie]

10am and back on my bullshit in light of Recent News.

So I'm gonna bitch about Sniper's camper a little (such as things it realistically would and would not have), and explain some things!

...While using Tilly of course. Camper anatomy course!

For comparison, this is Sniper's camper.

Now, for my issues and corrections with this...

The biggest thing that I notice in canon camper is the extreme lack of windows. Sniper's camper, given the timeline, would be a 60s-era model. Most 60s-era campers did not have air conditioning as their roofing wasn't strong enough to support the weight of an aircon. As you can see by looking at the roof of the camper, his does not have aircon. To make up for the lack of this, you need AIRFLOW or the camper becomes a dangerously high-heat oven. This means his camper would have multiple windows with flywire, not vents, to allow for airflow, and also a greater number of windows than is on the canon model. I will note that the venting front nook window is pretty cool though, and I've never seen one.

Sniper's camper would probably not have a shower, as there's not enough room for one. See how little it hangs off the tailgate? It has a toilet though. ALL campers that hang off the tailgate like that have a toilet. Also, despite Sniper's camper defo having a bathroom, it lacks a bathroom vent for some reason.

Sniper's camper lacks jacks?? I assume this is an oversight due to modelling reasons for SFM, and not that he took the jacks off. The jacks are necessary for maintenance purposes.

The tops of campers are always flat and I don't know why his Does That. I'm deciding it's stylistic reasons cuz otherwise he wouldn't be able to get in bed.

On that note—Sniper has a queen-size bed. I know it doesn't look like one, but trust me, that's a queen-size bed. No I don't care about the internal model that they never planned for anyone to see. It might be a bit cramped in the length department because he's a tall cunt, and it might be a bit cramped in the height department (there's not even a metre of headspace off the bed), but it's not cramped in the "If I roll in any one direction I will fall out" department, I assure you.

I'm not gonna fuss about the water fill hole or the heater or nothing, or the lack of LPG signage. I assume the lack of them is the same reason as the lack of jacks.

Ok, now for some general notes for people who don't know much about campers...

Campers from this era are entirely powered off the vehicle they're attached to. There's something called a pigtail, basically a long bundle of wire, that connects the truck to the camper and provides power, lights, etc. Some modern campers have space, usually under the sink, for a car battery to attach so you can power the camper off a separate battery without the use of a vehicle, but all campers from this era are powered by car battery through the pigtail only. THIS MEANS THAT IF YOU RUN YOUR BATTERY TOO OFTEN YOU WILL BE STRANDED AS YOUR CAR WILL NOT START. Ever leave your headlights on? A lot of people would get around this by using deep-cycle batteries (which are rechargeable), and they usually kept a spare. Or two. Some vehicles, like the Ford Camper Special line, allowed room for two car batteries in the engine bay to specifically get around this. Ideally one battery would be your starter, and the other would be a deep-cycle that everything ran off of. This would prevent you from draining your car's battery, and as deep cycle batteries recharge while you're driving, this works great. Other people (like me) use deep-cycles ONLY, and recharge the batteries by cycling them out as needed.

To use your stove you have to go outside, open the LPG panel, turn the valve on your propane tanks until it's loose, then go back inside, wait a few minutes, turn on the propane ON THE STOVE, and then light your pilot light (if you have a pilot light, most campers from this era do not) or light your burners individually. When you're done cooking or wharever, you have to go back outside and turn off your propane. If you do not do this your propane will leak while you drive.

You have to turn on the water by turning on the water pump, this requires electricity. Most campers have an overhead panel somewhere near the kitchen to do this. Others have it under the sink.

Most campers can be powered without battery as long as you have an electrical source!! See the "camper city power" panel—this allows you to plug in an electrical cord directly into the camper to power it off that instead of off your truck. Downside—this requires an electrical outlet. It's really only used when a camper is home and someone is living out of it, or when someone is camped at a powered campground (like an RV park), which are extremely rare because most RV parks do not allow jack-on campers. I've only ever used this plug at home. 😅

Campers run on fuses. Given the era, Sniper's camper would probably run on old SFE glass fuses, likely 20As (mine runs on SFE-20As across the board).

There will be a part 2 to this showing the interior layout and what that's like when I get around to it later today.

[eepyfaggoth]

Job Opportunity in Boston

Hello! I'm a multiply disabled medically complex wheelchair user in greater boston who relies on caregivers and i am hiring! No experience necessary, just be resourceful, patient, covid cautious, dependable, and an enthusiastic learner. Especially looking for other fat people! Hoping for someone who drives but I am accessible via the T.

Turning to tumblr as a bit of a hail mary because i am having a really hard time finding someone who can do the job, show up, and also be normal to me as a fat disabled queer through local channels, and i have one worker now who comes as often as they can, but ive been without adequate support for a while. i would appreciate anyone and everyone who reblogs, to possibly get this in the eyes of someone who might be a good fit! welcoming advice as well!

I have the sweetest esa cat

Pay is 19$ an hour funded by masshealth, i have 30-35 hours available and you can work as many or as few of those as you want

Im still very much trying to figure out life with my disability and how to function and organize and communicate my needs and navigating what I'm emotionally able to accept help with, but in general I need help with housework, cooking, managing my medical care, pushing me in my manual wheelchair, sometimes help using a slide board, and I'm still trying to figure out what things look like on a daily basis. going places with or for me. helping me get in the car, helping me pack a backpack if i need to go somewhere. getting mail, helping clean and pick things up off the floor, organizing medical appointments, making phone calls, unpacking medical equipment. emptying a pee jar. Helping me manage/charge medical equipment. I have a hard time lifting my arms a lot because of really bad neck issues, and i have really limited stamina. Putting drinks in smaller bottles, taking packaging off things. I also kind of need help with dressing and bathing sometimes but I have a really hard time coping with that and so like. That happens when it happens and is what it is. I have some systems for washing my hair without actually getting in the shower. I have variable conditions so things might not be the same all the time, on a good day I might be able to sit up for a while and do tasks, on a bad day it's very hard to bring a drink to my lips.

There's no physically lifting my entire body, but I do need someone who can lift the 50lb largest piece of one my wheelchairs and standard everyday heavy stuff like groceries or boxes of protein shakes. And sometimes my limbs. There's also likely things like reaching and stooping, alas, I drop a lot of things on the floor. I have a lot of allergies and some tasks are more complicated than they otherwise might be, and Im really hoping to find someone who can pay attention to detail and is comfortable working through things slowly.

i have a lot of allergies so memory and attention to detail are important, as is a willingness to wash hands frequently. i have a disorder called mast cell activation syndrome and frankly the precautions i need to take feel absurd

covid precautions:

Masks required! I'm hoping to find someone who also takes other precautions.I also need someone to be careful about monitoring yourself and not coming in if you are sick with *anything* because I *will* get it and it *will* be a multiple week ordeal where I likely experience dangerous symptoms. must be able to test weekly and mask with a k/n95 while around me. ideally be someone who lives low risk (masks everywhere, doesnt attend crowded events / spaces, etc). cannot be someone with a high risk lifestyle (has kids in primary school, unmasked in food service areas regularly, etc) we can talk about my precautions too, right now i havent left my house in weeks, i have two way masking with my current pca, and occasionally an unmasked delivery person will come into my apartment though id like to work on solutions to this. i need to like. revamp my precautions. but i dont go anywhere without a mask, i only have unmasked contact with another person if someone comes into my apartment and i cant get to my mask, i am eating while my pca is here and they are masked, or when my also homebound and careful partner is visiting. if someone was working for me more than 25 hours a week and lived a very low risk life i might be open to having a bubble with them during non surge times with precautions like air filters?

i really try to create a calm and positive work environment, though i have complex and real needs and i've been struggling to survive for a long time and i am very overwhelmed. i care deeply about a humanizing workplace, and i am looking for someone who will care enough about my needs as a human being to take the job seriously even though i am as flexible as possible.

About me, in case that helps?

Fat genderfluid dyke. I'm on my third medical leave from college (like a champ!) but I study medical anthropology, disability studies, and linguistics. I don't get out much or do a lot right now because of my illness but i like fiber arts, music, I don't do tons because I spend most of my time in bed but im really passionate about mutual aid, it's been a a minute but I've been wanting to get back into d&d, I think the magicians is the greatest work of television ever written, and I've been trained as a clown and want to try stand up (well, sit down) comedy at some point. I'm a bit neurotic but very self aware. trying to sort out anticonsumerism in the context of my disability. i value creativity, resourcefulness, autonomy, and consent.

(if this went like really well, i am also potentially looking to apply for housing assistance with accommodation for a room for a live in aid, but probably in western mass. idk)

Gwen :) he/they

Message for details

[windvexer]

To prepare a feeding oil for spells, for the purpose of charging spell vessels without direct energy work

In my strain of witchcraft, feeding of any spell (such as amulets or wards) is best done by applying a charmed physical substance, such as oil or incense. To use direct energy work is a stopgap solution not suitable for normal upkeep. To imagine the spell refilled with energy, without active energy work, is never a suitable solution.

Feeding of spells can be made from a chore into a breeze (*1950s commercial transition*) with the use of a small quantity of pre-charmed oil, such as olive oil, or any shelf-stable cooking oil (not E.O.). The most basic of these formulas is only a fat or oil with no other ingredients added.

Charming about an ounce or 30ml of oil will last months or more, even if you use it often.

The preparation is best performed on a Monday or full moon, or from the turning from midnight to the new day. Re-enchant the oil as often as desired, especially if it couldn't be initially enchanted under ideal conditions.

Put the entire quantity of oil you want to use in a clean, sealable container. Take the oil to a place free-flowing with magical power, such as under the full moon, in the presence of your allied gods, or within a cast circle teeming with elemental power.

Enter magical headspace through trance or any technique you prefer.

Using a clean stirring stick, or with a very clean finger, stir the oil clockwise while petitioning the powers in your presence. Call to the full moon, gods, elementals, and so forth, and ask them to bless the oil for the purpose of feeding, so that when spells consume it, the spell is revitalized and made fat with power. Speak plainly or plan a rhyme ahead of time. Work over the oil with constant stirring for several minutes, or until every petition is made, or until you have said everything that needs to be said.

When intuition advises, or when there's nothing left to be done, perform a sealing charm ("so mote it be" or variants) over the oil.

Thank all present powers and, if your tradition recommends it, provide payment as necessary.

If any energy is left raised, ground all of it into the oil.

Seal and set aside. Close the ritual as you normally do.

To feed a spell as you are casting it, or after it has been cast, dab a bit of the oil onto a tissue or Q-tip and wipe it on the spell vessel. Avoid sticking fingers into the jar as bacteria helps oils go rancid.

Re-enchant the oil in the same method as often as you like. To top off the oil, add more oil and re-enchant.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — half return

track 4: the horse | masterlist | track 6: workaholic methodology

translation notes: nanay = mom; lola = grandma; ulam = a filipino dish that goes with rice; sinigang = a soupy dish containing meat, veggies, fish sauce, etc.

the air conditioning rattles inside the dining room, the noise serving as background noise to a scene that reminds hajime of home. an amalgamation of steamed bok choy, marinated pork belly, and acrid fish sauce wafts through the air. this week's ulam is sinigang. her favorite, he recalls.

the empty space beside the pair leaves a bitter taste of emptiness and longing on their tongues, but neither expresses it, nor are they aware of the other's parallel feelings. instead, they sit in comfortable silence while hajime's nanay spoons the soup into a serving bowl and his lola plates the freshly cooked rice, the scene reminiscent of childhood summers spent together under the blazing heat with the promise of good, hearty food.

billows of steam dance up, up, and up into the ceiling and drift away into nothingness, all while two chairs squeak against wood, alerting the table of the women's arrival. tooru thanks them for the meal excitedly. something is amiss.

"it's too hot to eat sinigang in this weather," his mother scolds, despite carefully pouring a spoonful of the soup into her own bowl of rice. "you should've asked me to cook something cooler. i would've been fine with cooking those korean cold noodles you always like."

"it's fine," her son responds earnestly. his words are slightly muffled from the bits of meat and veggies stuffed in his cheeks, a habit he hadn't grown out of since his youth. "it tastes good, anyways."

tooru's eyes light up with his own taste of the meal. "really good. it tastes really, really good. they don't have food like this in argentina, you know."

hajime's lola chuckles at his remark, her back flushed against her seat and her hands folded on her lap. "i'm sure you missed this," she remarks. something in her tone is airy yet playful. "hajime told me about your travels. have you found any lovers overseas? any romance?"

"oh, yes! it's good for you guys to find someone to settle with at your age," his mother chirps in, and the two men are choked with shock.

unease riddles itself into both of their bones. there's a truthful, honest answer that they're both capable of crafting in their heads. but if there is one thing they have in common, it's that they're stubborn. so, together (unknowingly), they push away their respective realities and opt for something vague. something that prances around the bushes of what they know to be factual.

the argentinian is the first to speak up. "i have a little bit of an interest in someone, but i don't think i plan on doing anything about it soon." there's an awkward chuckle tacked onto the end of his statement and a crack in his syllables, but he tries desperately not to think about it. he glances over at hajime in hopes that whatever his friend says will save them from the pressure.

"same for me. work's too busy these days, i can't focus on those things right now, nanay."

much to his demise, it doesn't save them, at all.

--

"...and we walked around the villages for quite a bit, talked to a few locals; it was fun. i think the scenery helped with my writing block."

the man across from her wears a corporate smile and it irks her, almost. he's not the ideal image of a manager. she'd envisioned something more friendly, something therapeutic, far from the person sitting on her couch writing down notes dutifully.

"that's good," he exclaims absentmindedly as he continues to jot down note after note after note. she wonders what he could possibly be writing about. her poor time management skills? her diminishing motivation and lack of individualism in a growing sea of competition? she doesn't want to imagine it.

he pauses for a moment. the notebook in his hands plops neatly onto the coffee table, and his hands settle onto his lap. it's too professional. too robotic. "have you considered going on tour?"

"sorry?"

"well, i was talking to your label, and they believed that it'd be a fitting time for you to do a tour around the country considering the rapid success of your most recent album." the man's stare burns laser-ignited holes into her flesh, as if he isn't asking her to consider the offer, but rather telling her to do it.

"but i thought they wanted me to begin working on a new album," she quips. there's a small edge of bitterness to her voice that leaks out against her will.

her manager, with all the neutrality and competence he can muster, chuckles softly at her concern. "of course, we already thought about that. we were wondering if you would like to try having a third party produce your instrumentals, in order to lessen the burden and ensure faster production. all you'd have to do while on tour is work on your lyrics and record. it's time efficient, and distributes all the responsibilities as opposed to you handling everything on your end."

she wants to laugh at him, but she knows it's improper and rude when all he's trying to do is maximize her profit -- the job that he was assigned to do. but she can't quite fight the twitch beneath her eye and the shifting of her weight in her disturbance. "look, i understand you're trying to help me, but-" her breath hitches. a tinge of anger bubbles up in her throat and she's scared it's going to make things worse. her hands grab at the fabric of her pants as if to restrain herself from unleashing something she doesn't quite mean. "i've been doing everything the same way every year -- i've composed every song, i've written every lyric, all the music videos are directed by me, and i don't get why you would think changing any of that would help."

anxiety crawls up the surface area of her spine and clings onto her. her manager is silent, evidently deep in thought, and his eyes drift away to the window. his hand smooths his hair away from his forehead, the action embedding some sort of fear into her that she knows is misplaced. "let's talk about this another time. i'll give you a while to consider the deal. i hope you can compose a clear and concise answer by then," he speaks, his tone far too formal for her liking. he excuses himself before she can respond, and before she can think about what he said, the door closes (nearly slams) shut behind her.

she can't help the small yet fleeting curse that spills from her lips, nor the sigh that escapes shortly after. irritation is a cruel and ugly feeling, she decides.

but the door squeaks open just as quickly as it was shut. footsteps -- heavy, loud, and slow -- approach the couch from behind. when she looks up, she's met with a pair of faces looking down at her.

"we brought drinks," tooru chirps out in an attempt to alleviate the friction coagulating in the air. "and food. from iwa's mom, of course."

the upturn of her lips is beyond her control. "i really need that," she breathes out. hajime shakes his head at the misery before him.

"what'd you do?"

"i didn't do anything. it's just more grievances from the industry. they want this, they want that; anything that'll grant them more money will do."

the two make themselves comfortable beside her, with the more lively of the duo on her right and her muse on her left. tooru pops open the bottle of soju unceremoniously while hajime pries open the tupperware lid on the table. the scene is welcoming and warm, a stark contrast to the cold monotony of her manager and the white-hot resentment simmering in her lungs. it feels right.

her eyes fall to the desktop at the side of the room and the haphazard arrangement of materials on her table (a leather notebook filled with vague compositions of soon-to-be-lyrics, the same pen she's been using since her second year of high school, an expensive microphone provided to her by her label that she needs to clean more often), and for the first time in a long while, she finds herself questioning the importance of her career. gone are the days of drafting cheesy songs in her bedroom and singing about the infatuation that seems to have altered her perception of the word permanently; she's become a cog to the machine and she only realizes it now. something in her aches.

hajime's stare follows hers, his cheeks puffed up with warm sinigang and rice. he questions the furrow in her brow and the displeasure in her gaze and finds his mind running back to the other night. the syrupy words and heartfelt verbiage clearly addressed to someone he may or may not know plague his mind, and he wonders if he'd find something similar in the notes sprawled across her desk.

tooru is silent. as opposed to his friends, whose eyes are cast to the same point, he's stuck watching them. the proximity of their legs, the coordination in their movement, the warmth that exudes from their combined presence; it all slowly chips away at whatever buried hope he'd carried with him from argentina to his home country.

it's a half return to normalcy. they're all bound together by long-time loyalty and care, but with the transfiguration of their hearts, it's different. there's a shift in the air attributed to maturation and growth. they don't want to acknowledge it.

♪ sorry if this is vague </3 i don't want to explain too in depth in fear of exposing too much plot but essentially this a moment where they realize that they can't really go back to normal (as in, the way they used to be as friends) with all of their changing lives and changing feelings

♪ i say this every time but i hope this chapter makes sense LOL its a lot less silly and more just a feeling of dread

♪ slightly based on half return by adrienne lenker (such a beautiful song)

♪ tooru definitely did gossip with hajime's mom and grandma while they were cooking. he loves listening to them rant about their annoying neighbors or lovesick coworkers

♪ i hc that hajime speaks in taglish (tagalog + english) on accident sometimes with yn and tooru but they've listened to his mom and lola talk enough that they understand

♪ i dont have much to say i just want to get to the next chapter already

taglist: @froyaoya @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes

[corviiids]

the armour of achilles is kind of like a death note and this is going to sound crazy but hear me out. everyone who ever wears achilles’ armour dies. achilles (duh), patroclus (book 16 goes crazy) and hector. the armour of achilles also (at least imo) notably alters the behaviour of the people who wear it — achilles’ anger is literally his defining trait and when patroclus puts it on he begins behaving erratically eg taunting aeneas, mocking cebriones’ death. hector also begins to behave much more brashly, eg yelling at polydamas in book 18 for daring to suggest that perhaps going back into the citadel is a good idea. SIMILARLY the use of a death note 1) dooms the user to being killed by their shinigami and 2) seems to alter in some way light’s behaviour — he has the same ideals before and after he picks it up but the light we see at the start of the series and the light in the yotsuba arc has absolutely no interest in killing people and is deeply offended by the notion he could do so.

like obviously achilles’ armour does not kill people but like. it kinda kills people. like hear me out

ok no you're cooking though. like, i think the thing about the death note is not that it has a supernatural power to alter behaviour, i think what it does is present its user with power on a new scope beyond what they previously considered possible and the overwhelm of that is so dizzying and perspective-changing that it alters your perception of what matters and what's possible. it literally is hubris, thinking yourself totally above consequences, thinking purely in ideals, getting that big picture vision that obscures the danger of the means in favour of walking towards that bright and shiny end

i really LIKE your vision of achilles' armour as being somehow symbolic of that capacity achilles has for inhuman rage and vengeance like, you're kidding about it having supernatural powers but even if we look at it in a purely symbolic way and not supernatural, that's fun as hell. we can even take this further and apply it to the second set of armour too (the one thetis brings achilles after patroclus' death) and change the conditions not even to wearing the armour but simply contemplating owning it, because that ends up being the subject of the feud between odysseus and ajax, and ajax goes so mad with righteous grief and fury that he turns bloodthirsty, and then he kills himself over the resulting shame. how excellent is this armour as a symbol of the same rage and pride that killed achilles!! reaching for something you think you want and deserve, losing aspects of yourself to achieve it, and going mad with the injustice when you don't reach it

and then odysseus wins the armour and survives his journey........ but like, he doesn't keep the armour. he gives it to achilles' son.

[dazz-linglight]

Oii! How do you think it is to have a polyamorous relationship with Jake and Jay? Amo seu blog!

(aaaaa obrigada ♥️)

Jake x reader x Jay

(pure fluff)

Congratulations, now you have a cat and a puppy as your boyfriends.

You met Jake first and your friendship turned into being cuddle buddies in the free time.

You would cuddle in your living room, your head on his chest while talking about anything, warming each other, bodies as close and intertwined as humanly possible.

Then a month later you met Jay from Jake's circle of friends and also became friends with him too.

Jake were happy that two of his dear friends were getting along.

Jay started showing interest in you very soon after meeting you, so he asked if you wanted to go out with him in the weekend.

You of course couldn't resist and said yes! Jay took you for a very nice cafeteria where you stayed until the evening, getting to know about him and letting him know about you. He made you laugh many times and treated you with care until it was time to part ways.

Jake didn't know what was going on until jay came back to the dorm with a dumb smile and asked what happened. Jay told him about the date and Jake were fuming because he also liked you.

The next day, Jake sent you a text asking if he could show up in your house and you agreed, but you didn't expect to have a stressed young man on your door.

Jake got in saying how it wasn't fair that you went out on a date with Jay without considering him.

You were like "Boy, what??", because you never thought it would be a problem for you to go out with anybody, but Jake had other idea.

He confessed his feelings right then and there, saying how he met you first and that he wouldn't let someone else take his place in your life.

You were shook now having mixed feelings with both men.

Days passed and Jay and Jake started a kind of battle tô conquer you, trying to outdo each other to get the special place in your heart. They were making you crazy!

One day both of them came to your door and asked if you could choose one of them at that moment. You were speechless for a minute and then you had your answer.

"I don't wanna choose one of you." You paused and saw both men wither in sadness, thinking you were ditching both of them.

"I want to date both of you. I like both of you. If you guys can't deal with that, then I'm sorry, but I won't choose one." Jay and Jake started at each other and both mentally decided that would be better to accept the condition that being without you.

Having a poly relationship with Jay and Jake, two vibrant members of ENHYPEN is a big ride. This relationship thrives on mutual respect, affection, and shared experiences, allowing each partner to connect uniquely while enjoying the collective bond. You managed to minimize the fights between jay and Jake for your attention and you divided time to spend with both of them together and individually. In this relationship, daily life would be filled with laughter, music, and creative collaboration. Mornings would start with shared breakfasts, perhaps cooking together while chatting about upcoming schedules and personal goals. Jay, known for his leadership and nurturing qualities, takes charge of preparing a good meal, while Jake’s playful spirit brings lightness to the kitchen, teasing Jay and engaging in playful banter. With the busy schedules due to their music careers, they’d prioritize quality time with you. They plan regular “date nights” where they disconnect from their work and focus solely on you, whether that means going out or cozying up at home with a movie marathon.

As a trio, they might enjoy activities that strengthen the bond. For instance, exploring new cafes in Seoul would be ideal. Traveling together could be another highlight, allowing them to explore new cultures and experiences. Imagine them wandering through bustling markets, trying local foods, or visiting art galleries, all while enjoying each other's company and creating unforgettable memories.

While the three of you enjoy the time together, individual connections are equally important.

*Jay and You: Spending one-on-one time with Jay would involve deep conversations about life and ambitions. His thoughtful nature would shine as he listens to your thoughts, offering insights and support. You might find yourselves at a quiet park, discussing your dreams or listening to his favorite music while he shares stories from his childhood. When you guys stay at home he will play his guitar and sing romantic songs for you, making your heart melt.

*Jake and You: With Jake, one-on-one moments would be filled with energy and laughter. Whether it’s a spontaneous car trip to an amusement park or a casual stroll downtown, Jake’s fun and loving personality would keep things light-hearted. He might challenge you to games or engage in friendly competitions, fostering a carefree atmosphere that encourages connection and joy. At home, he's calmer and will bring you to his chest to cuddle and encourage you to talk about your passions.

Being a poly relationship with those two, communication is crucial. The three of you would regularly check in with each other, discussing feelings, boundaries, and any concerns that comes in mind. Having open dialogue would help maintain balance and ensure everyone feels valued and heard. When challenges arise, such as jealousy or time constraints, you’d address them together. Jay’s empathetic nature would facilitate these discussions, ensuring everyone feels understood, while Jake’s humor would help diffuse tension, reminding you all of the strength of your bond.

On special occasions, you might surprise Jay with a heartfelt letter or a thoughtful gift that reflects his likes, while Jake might get a spontaneous adventure planned, like a day trip to a theme park or a new activity to try together.