#and last year they were suuuper small

[guinevereslancelot]

acquired some small apple trees for $10 each and now i have a little orchard 🥲

[endlessthxxghts]

What You Need

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈6.3k

Summary: You come home from a horribly stressful day at University to everything in your family home a complete mess only for you to take care of. Joel helps you and gives you exactly what you need.

Warnings: SUUUPER self indulgent (sorry guys - it makes for a good plot tho, so i’m not all that sorry <3). no use of “y/n”, age gap (22/42), LATINO JOEL MILLER (idc what anyone says, he needs a warning), established relationship, no physical descriptions of reader, pet names (darlin’, sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, etc.), reader “takes care of everyone but who takes care of her” plot, more porn than plot lol, [SMUT 18+ MDNI] daddy kink, sir kink, heavy on the D/s dynamic (reader falls into subspace), cockwarming, unprotected piv (don’t be like these 2 idiots), breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, finger fucking, finger sucking (briefly), choking, hair pulling, brief thoughts about anal, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, hickeys/marking kink, squirting!, toy use, fluffy ending… i think that’s it?? (dear lord pls forgive me, for i have sinned)  if i missed anything, lmk pls!

Quick lil author’s note (see bottom for extended a/n): In all honesty, I wanna dedicate this (nasty) little one shot to @javierpena-inatacvest because if it wasn’t for our interactions as of late plus reading your “It’s Never Too Late” fic, I never would’ve said fuck it and just start writing with the intention of potentially showing it to the world. Thank you for inspiring me. You’re amazing & I literally love u so so much. You deserve phenomenal head all the love in the world for everything you do <3.

MAIN MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION

It was a long day at university today, as per usual, but something about today completely drained you. 

You went to bed past midnight last night because you were busy finishing up a paper, only to get up at 7am the next morning to spend the next 13 hours juggling between classes, assignments, and studying in your “free” time. By the time you were ready to head back home, you were on your very last thread, begging to snap. You also completely spaced on nourishing your body today, the only thing running through it being water and coffee — lots of coffee. 

That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the minute you entered your family home, the entire house was an absolute mess, your pets weren’t given their food yet, and no dinner was made. And just like every other day since you grew into an acceptable height to reach the kitchen stove, you took care of it. All of it. 

You were so grateful to your family for allowing you to stay at home during your undergraduate years. It makes your in-state tuition even cheaper, and you get the comfort of your own bed. You knew not many people could rely on their parents and family like this, so you don’t want to sound selfish when you think about how you really wish you had your own place right about now. 

It’s been an hour and a half since you've been home, and you’re barely finishing up getting the food for your dogs when your phone dings in your back pocket. 

Didn’t text me when you got home, baby. Everything okay?

It was from Joel. The neighbor directly across from you, and a quickly growing family friend of yours. Your heart both saddens at the fact that you forgot your unspoken ritual, but it swells at the way he can read you. 

It all began at a small family party last year. You were 21 at the time, and for some reason you could not take your eyes off of your neighbor — who was 20 years your senior. It was always just shared glances or you bringing baked goods from your stress-baking endeavors, but at that party, there was a good period of time where your entire family went outside to the bonfire in the backyard to drink until their hearts gave out, leaving you with the dishes and a trashed house to clean. Joel noticed this, how much they relied on you. Whether it was coming over for a beer with your brothers or your father, or to fix an appliance for your older sister, they always walked all over you — when you did absolutely everything for them. So, he took matters into his own hands and went inside to help you clean up. 

You insisted he didn’t need to, but you knew he wouldn’t let up. So, there, you two worked, harmoniously, straightening up your home in half the time it would normally take you by yourself. The second you completed the last task, you reached for the remote and plopped yourself on the couch, half expecting Joel to go back outside with your family. Except, he plopped himself on the couch right next to you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, “What are we watchin’, darlin’?” 

“You know you could’ve stayed outside with everyone else, Miller,” you say as you turn your body to him with an eyebrow quirked up. He matches your expression, “Well, where’s the fun in that?” 

You break into a breathy little giggle, satisfied with his comeback, and you turn on the TV. With your family completely occupied outside, it was easy for either of you to make a move. And although Joel had been planning to for the last few months before this party, you took matters into your own hands and lifted his arm closest to you, tucked yourself into his side and pulled his arm back around your body. He looked down at you, smirking at your boldness while your eyes remained fixed on the movie before you. 

The next few hours of the night were filled with secret caresses and stolen kisses, and you have never felt more loved and appreciated in your life. From then on, you’ve been absolutely smitten with him, and he with you. 

Instead of replying, you dial him instead. Not even a third ring goes by before he answers, “Baby.” 

“Oh my god, hi, baby, I’m so sorry. I completely spaced. The minute I got home, the house was a mess, the dogs weren’t fed yet, dinner wasn’t even cooked, and I-”

“Mi amor,” he says with a deep breath, implicitly telling you to take one, “it’s okay, baby. I don’t wanna hear sorry from you. I’m sorry everythin’ is a mess, baby. Can I help? Need me to come over?”

Your rapid heart rate immediately starts to slow at how calming, ready and willing he is to give you anything you need. Your family would go absolutely insane if Joel just showed up right now with the sole intention of helping you take care of the home and yourself, but you don’t mention that. “No, baby, I promise I’m okay. I just need to relax. I need-” you pause for a moment to take another breath because you feel your body going panicky again. “I need…honestly, I just need you.” 

After the shitty day you’ve had today, having to take control of every single thing, honestly all you really want, and need, right now is for your control to be taken away. You don’t want to think, you don’t want to decide, and you don’t even want to figure out your dinner even though you haven’t eaten all day. 

He pauses for a moment, hearing the slight whine at your last statement. And just like that, Joel is at your rescue. “You need me, huh, babygirl?” 

“Mhm, please.” 

“Cross the street, darlin’, right now,” and he hangs up the phone. 

You bolt out of your seat, and sprint straight to the front door, quickly locking it. You think to say something on the Ring camera, letting your family know you’ll be back, but you know they won’t even think twice at your absence. You already cleaned the house and took care of the animals they begged for but don’t care for — why else would they look for you? 

Just in case they do check the cameras, however, you immediately veer to the left side of your driveway into the blind spots of your front door. 

Within seconds, you’re at his door about to knock, but he’s already opening the door, whispering a soft hi followed by your name, and pulling you into a tight embrace. He pulls you away for a second, assessing your face, assessing your needs. He sees your brows pulled together, eyes glossed over, and a pout beginning to form. You don’t need soft and comforting. You need stern, dominating control. You need nothing but pure bliss, and he’s going to give that to you. But first: 

“Safe words. Repeat em’.” 

“Red for hard stop, yellow if I’m starting to get uncomfortable, and green to keep going.” 

“That’s my girl,” he says and finally pulls you in for that rough, all-consuming kiss you’ve been craving. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and obviously he wins. His hands are roughly sliding down to the underside of your asscheeks, tightly pulling you into his hardening bulge. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, but pause for a moment because he never gave you permission to. He senses that, and pulls back for just a moment. “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me. Go ‘head, baby, touch me.” 

You immediately bring your arms back up to grab ahold of him but too riled up in how he’s making you feel, you don’t notice the huge grumble your empty tummy makes. He pulls both your wrists back from his neck and puts an insufferable amount of space between you two. 

He says your name, filled with both concern and slight anger. “When was the last time you ate?” 

Silence. 

He lets go of your wrist and grabs your chin between his pointer and thumb, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m not askin’ again, baby.”

“Y-yesterday night,” you stumble out. 

“I’m not givin’ you a heavy meal ‘cause that’ll just upset your stomach, but I am fixin’ you somethin’. Go upstairs, change into the clothes on the bed, come back down and position yourself on the ottoman, like I taught ya last week, hm?”

Too enamored by his roughly smooth voice, all you can muster up is a nod. His eyebrow barely shifts, but that’s all a warning you need. “Yes, sir.” 

Padding up into his room, already feeling your insides start to float, you reach the edge of his bed to see a pair of black cheeky boxers, and a thin, fitted black tee. You quickly strip off everything you arrived here in and slip on the garments he gave you. Wasting no time, you head back down in a bee line to the ottoman. 

Like I taught ya last week, hm?

His words echo in your mind as you begin to recall last week’s endeavors. 

You were straddling his lap for a while now, slowly swallowing each other’s moans and making every part of each other’s body ingrained into your memories. Until suddenly he pulls back, eyes dead set with intention. “You trust me, baby?”

“Always, Joel,” you say back with as stern a voice as possible, confused as to why he’d ask such a thing. “Can I teach you somethin’, then, darlin’?”

You pull him into one more kiss before you breathily tell him yes and pull yourself off his lap to stand before him, fully at his disposal. 

He stands up, and without any verbal indications, he’s grabbing onto you and molding your body onto the ottoman in a position that begins to drift you off into subspace. You don’t know if it’s the fact that you're sitting on your knees with your legs tucked under you, or if it’s the slow drag of his hands caressing your inner thighs, pulling them farther apart from each other. Or maybe it’s the way he softly places your hands, palms up, atop of your thighs. Whatever the hell it is, you absolutely fucking love it. 

He feels you melting into every little touch he makes and he notes every little moment you slip further and further into your space. “Doin’ okay, my sweet girl?” he asks, voice dark and sweet. 

All you can pull out of yourself is a pathetic little whine and a head nod. 

“This is position number one. Remember it. We’ll learn more later, but this’ll do just fine for a while, baby.”

And with that, he kisses you ever so softly but with such a dominating, addictive energy that you feel yourself try to push up into him, and immediately he pulls away. 

“Sweet girl, Imma let it slide this time, but you do not move from this position unless given permission. Ya hear?”

You return to your original position and assure him how good you’ll be, “Won’t happen again, daddy, I promise.”

His jaw clenches at the honorific; that’s your number one tell that signifies you’ve completely submitted and fallen into subspace. He had originally planned on giving you what you asked for two days ago — “Please, Joel, I need you to fuck me, hard.” — but seeing you all docile and ready for him just makes him want to absolutely praise you in the most beautiful ways possible. 

So that’s what he did. For hours. An hour of bending you over the ottoman to eat your pussy like a man who had all the time in the world, an hour of fingering orgasm after orgasm out of you while his mouth switched between licking and marking your tits, and a few hours after that just slowly fucking you into his mattress, caressing and loving on every single part of your body he could reach. 

Let’s just say, your family didn’t see you for the rest of that day or the next, and you did not care one fucking bit. 

You shuffle onto the ottoman, your form now perfected after secretly practicing each night to increase your endurance of staying in such a position for however long Joel needed you to. 

You wait for about five more minutes before he comes back with a platter of all of your favorite fruits — strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple — and sits on the cushioned seat right in front of you. He melts at how good you sit for him, immediately disregarding his original plan and wanting you as close to him as possible. 

“My good, beautiful girl,” he says softly, in a way that you’re not sure if it was even meant for you to hear, but you still melt nonetheless. “Come,” he says as he pats his lap while setting the plate off to the table beside him. 

You shoot up like a lightning bolt, too excited at the thought of being able to feel him again, but before you can climb up, he grabs your hips, stopping you for a second. He slides his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly slides them completely off of you, setting them neatly on the ottoman behind you. He slowly reaches for his belt, then slides it off, letting it fall somewhere on the ground. You stand completely still, patiently waiting for whatever he’s going to give you, although your pussy is proving anything but patient. 

He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans and signals for you to come up. “Take me out, cariño.”

You climb up on his thighs, not fully straddling him to give yourself some room to tug his jeans and boxers down enough to pull him free. You pull him free with a small moan escaping your lips, wanting to dart your tongue out and lick his angry tip, but he didn’t give his permission for that. So, you begrudgingly let him go, and wait for what comes next. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he states nonchalantly as if his dick isn’t absolutely begging for you to reach out and grab it. “You’re gonna sit on my cock, keep me nice and warm. Without moving. Only until you’ve eaten all the fruit on this plate will I think about what’s gonna happen next. Got it?”

Your voice trembles, “Y-yes, sir.” 

He nods his head, while bringing his hand up to your mouth, signaling for you to let your drool fall. You scoot closer and lift your hips up while he pumps himself a few times to completely cover himself in your spit. With how much your cunt is dripping, you knew his lewd act was for his benefit and his only. 

The second his tip catches at your entrance, you can’t control the high-pitch whine that falls from your mouth, and he can’t stop himself from gripping your hips with a bruising force in an attempt to keep from mercilessly pounding up into you right here. 

“So f-fucking full,” you breath out as you sink lower and lower, to which he nearly growls with a strained, “So fucking tight.”

You finally bottom out, and you both take a moment to breathe and settle any impulsive thoughts of forgetting the purpose of tonight’s scene. You shift a little to adjust to settle your legs more comfortably at his sides, while he leans over to bring your plate of fruit closer. Both your actions together make you hiss in desperation.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, sir, green,” you promise him.

He smiles, genuine and bright, before his face goes dark and smug again. He picks up a piece of pineapple with his fingers. “Open.”

You lean in and take the sweet fruit from his fingers, making sure to lick any residual of the pineapple’s sweet juices. This goes on until you’ve finished every last piece he cut for you. Towards the last few pieces, your pussy was absolutely drenching his cock with your slick, both your thighs and his soaked. He could feel every pulse and every flutter, and no matter how patient he usually was, something in the air tonight was testing every ounce of his strength. 

He sets the plate aside and licks a mix of fruit juices and your spit clean off his fingers. You watch him, completely entranced by the way his tongue wraps around his thick fingers, and you can’t help but feel such an aching need to throw yourself at him. 

So you do. And to your surprise, he allows it. You pull both his arms to wrap around your middle and you push yourself into him for a searing kiss, whimpering for him to slip you his tongue. He indulges, and you immediately begin grinding your hips down onto his cock. He growls and wraps his arms tighter around you, adding more pressure into your grind, forcing you to break the kiss to regain your breath. “Fuck, baby. Such an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He rasps out. 

Your hips move faster at his words, trying to will yourself to say something, anything, but you can’t. He notices your effort. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby, hm?”

And with that — with the notion that he’ll take care of you with anything you need — you completely fall. “Y- yes,” you moan out, “Da- fuck- daddy’s got me.”

Ah, there she is. Daddy’s girl. His back straightens so he’s towering over you more. He grabs your jaw tightly while you continue to pleasure yourself on his dick, forcing you to hold his stare. “Oh, sweet girl, daddy’s always gonna give ya what ya need. Promise, baby. Now be the good little girl I know you are and cum for me.”

You can feel him meet every movement of your hips, coaxing your high out of you faster than you realize. The wet, squelch your pussy makes every time you suck him in is enough to make him release his load, but he won’t. Not until you’ve came more times than ever before, not until you’re left completely fucked dumb. 

He snakes his hand down to the front, reaching for your clit, using his thumb to make mind-numbing, calculated circles. Your back arches at the sensation, head thrown back, and he brings his other free hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer into him. He ravishes your neck all over, sucking and biting all your weak spots, your pulse points, only to run his tongue over it in soothing motions, getting even more worked up at the marks that’ll form tomorrow. Then, he rips your shirt right in half, letting it fall to the ground. So much for makin’ you change, he thinks. He brings his mouth lower and lower, sucking one of your nipples in between his teeth, throwing you over the edge.

Your vision goes white, your entire body goes rigid, and your pussy uncontrollably flutters around his dick as he peppers your neck and chest with more kisses while you come back down. 

Your body is now soft and pliant, fully ready for whatever more Joel is going to give you. Your head is still high up in the clouds, and it will be for a while, but he always knows how to take care of you. You feel him slowly lift you off his dick and you hear him groan as he looks down. 

“God fucking damn, doll, look at you all over me. Such a fuckin’ mess.”

Your face heats up immediately, “I- I’m sorry, daddy, I-”

He grabs your jaw again and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He pulls away bringing your bottom lip with him until he lets go, letting it fall back into place, now wet with his spit. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize for that. You made daddy so proud, baby. So much so that you’re gonna do it again for me,” he says as he squeezes your ass cheek. 

You squeak out a gasp and a breathy please. He stands up and makes his way to his bedroom with you still wrapped around him like a koala. 

Immediately he throws you on the bed, and before you’re able to scramble up towards the pillows, he’s already pushing you up by the thighs and kneeling between your spread legs. 

He releases one thigh for a quick second and holds his hand out, “Pillow, baby.” It takes your blissed mind one moment to register, but as soon as it does, you don’t waste a second, grabbing the pillow next to your head and eagerly handing it to him. He takes the pillow and taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to lift up. He secures the pillow under your hips then brings both his large hands back to the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up so you’re nearly folded in half, giving him complete access to your dripping heat. 

If there’s one thing about Joel Miller, it’s that he loves to make a fucking mess. You thought your first sensation would be one flat lick up your cunt, but instead you feel warmth. Wet and warm and everywhere, and finally you realize, he let his mouth fill with spit only to absolutely drench you with it. Once he’s satisfied with his mess only then does he dive into you like a man starved. Licking and pushing into your slit while the tip of his nose rubs against your clit has you climaxing in an instant, your back arching and your hips lifting as much as they can with the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you in place. 

He lets one hand slowly slide off your thigh and up your belly until he reaches one of your tits, switching between grabbing your entire breast and pinching your nipple. He continues to lick at you and circle your clit with his tongue until you’re a complete whining mess from the overstimulation. “Daddy, please,” you moan. 

He lifts his head, eyes as black as ever, “I’ve got you, princess, you can take it.” He reluctantly breaks away from your cunt and kisses his way up your body, taking his time with sloppy, open mouthed kisses near your hip bone and your sternum, knowing those areas drive you crazy the most. He makes sure to bite a little extra hard in some areas on his journey up, knowing you love to admire all the marks and bruises he makes on you. 

He sucks another bruise right underneath your jaw, making you push up into him more, while his hands continue to wander and grasp every part of your body that he can. Finally he reaches your mouth and gives you a sweet, long kiss to your mouth, distracting you enough that you don’t see him reach for the vibrator in the nightstand beside the bed. You feel him slide his hand back down your body, but you still don’t realize the vibrator’s presence until you feel the buzz directly on your clit. 

Out of pure reaction, your hand flies to the nape of his neck and tugs sharply, all while obscenities fall pathetically from your mouth, “Oh- f-fuck, daddy, yes! J-just like that, please, please don’t stop…” The quick-paced, blinding pleasure builds so fast it cuts off your dirty mouth and reduces you down to moans and gasps and whines of daddy, daddy, daddy. 

He slips two fingers into your pussy, sliding in with so much ease with how wet you are from a combination of your cream and his spit, all while he uses his other hand to push the vibrator into your bundle of nerves. 

You don’t know whether it has been one minute or one hour of this, but all you know is that you’ve got sweat lining your forehead, beading down your body, and you absolutely can’t take the buzzing pleasure with the constant come-here motion with his fingers anymore, you have to let go. Although this time, it feels different than the rest of the times Joel has made you cum. This time… this time it feels like- you have to pee? 

Immediately you start to panic and try to break away from his hold, unable to allow yourself to fucking pee all over him. “Daddy, wait! Please stop.. it- it feels different, like I.. I think I’m gonna pee..” you gasp, trying to articulate your thoughts while he continues his torture on your cunt. 

His eyes go wide and it immediately registers for him, “Fuck, baby, don’t worry about that, just let go. Come on, daddy’s got you. You trust me?” 

You hesitate for a moment, but still, you know the answer, “Y-yes, daddy.” 

“Good, my princess. Cum for me, fuckin’ soak me. I told you I wanted another fuckin’ mess,” he demands and fucks you even harder with his fingers and increases the pressure of the vibrator. 

You all but scream, definitely sure the neighbors can hear you, but you don’t give a fuck with the fireworks erupting behind your eyes and all throughout your body. Your body is still convulsing and you’re sure you’ve gone unconscious for a moment, but what brings you back to the Earth is the feeling of a warm, flat tongue licking you all over, cleaning you up. Then another sensation hits you: your bottom half is completely fucking drenched. You muster up all the strength you can to open your eyes and look down to see what’s going on. 

You see your big, broad man licking you up so sweetly, but from his mouth down he is also absolutely soaked, down to the collar of his dark green shirt he was wearing. 

Holy fuck. You fucking squirted. That was new. And with Joel’s reaction to it, you’re definitely sure that’s not gonna be the last time he pulls that out of you. 

He doesn’t realize you’re up again until you’re softly calling his attention back up to you and not your pussy. He makes eye contact with you, and his eyes fucking sparkle. Yeah, there’s no way this was a one time kind of thing. He sits back up on his haunches and strips himself of his shirt. He never pulled his jeans back up from when you used him to get off in the living room, so his dick has been patiently waiting for attention since your last two orgasms. 

He strips himself completely at the bottom half, too, leaving you with a perfect view of his toned chest, softer middle, and bulging arms and shoulders. Your cunt, all used and abused, fucking clenches on nothing at the naked sight of him. Of course, he fucking notices. 

“Oh, my poor baby. She’s just fuckin’ beggin’ to be filled, huh?” His southern drawl always intensifies whenever he gets spurred on like this. And, fuck, if it doesn’t make you fold more than you already do. 

You whine at his words and spread your legs even wider for him to see what’s rightfully his. 

“Just beggin’ to get pumped full of my fuckin’ cum, huh, princess? Is that what she wants? That what my babygirl wants?” 

“Please, daddy! Yes, that’s what I- what I need, daddy… need you ins- fuck- need you inside, daddy,” you ramble out, already fucked stupid but still begging for more. He situates himself on top of you, stopping your begging with a harsh kiss that leaves your already swollen lips throbbing. “Shhh, I’m gonna give you what you need, darlin’,” and he kisses you one more time as he begins to notch his tip at your entrance. 

He hooks his arm underneath your knee, hiking your one leg up higher to open you completely. You feel him start to push in deeper, and neither of you can help the initial gasp of how good it feels to be consumed by one another. He leans down again to kiss you, unable to get enough of your lips on his, and you bring your hand back up to the back of his head, keeping him close to you, feeling the exact same way. 

He completely bottoms out into you then, his breathing labored and you, a whimpering mess. No matter how many times you two have fucked, his sheer size always makes you feel like it’s the first time. He stays still to let you get used to the feeling again. You both lay there for a few minutes, kissing and consuming each other’s breaths and moans while he gives you rhythmic little grinds to stimulate your clit. Your pussy is sobbing at this point, enough wetness has accumulated that he’s able to slide right out until just the tip is in you and he pushes right back in, hard. 

He fucks you hard, maintaining this rhythm for a while, completely consumed by the way you wrap around him so perfectly. What started off as one leg hiked up around him turned into a complete mating press, giving you the maximum sensation of his length and girth pumping in and out of you. He always gets so foul-mouthed whenever you two end up in this position, not that you’d ever complain because you love hearing that rough, sexy Southern drawl utter absolute filth that only your ears will ever get to hear. 

“Fuck, darlin’, it’s like she was fuckin’ made for me. Wrapped around my cock, so fucking tight and warm. I could spend fuckin’ forever here wrapped up in your tight fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. 

“All for you, daddy, always,” you respond, purposefully squeezing your pussy tight in time with your words. That drives him absolutely fucking crazy that he pulls his arm upwards in between your legs that are resting on his torso and brings his hand up to wrap around your throat. “Say it again,” he growls, “tell me who the fuck this pussy belongs to, baby.” He squeezes the sides of your neck tighter, creating an even lighter sensation in your head coupled with the submissive daze you’ve been in since you got here. 

“F-fuck, d-daddy- shit,” you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels wrapped around your neck while balls deep inside of you. 

“Darlin’ girl,” he warns, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

You sob out, willing your body to respond to him, willing your body to obey, “Th- this pussy belongs t- to-“ you take a breath, “to you, daddy, only you. Forever.” 

He releases your throat and pulls your legs down from the mating press, wrapping them around his waist instead. He places one hand at the back of your head and the other on the headboard, then kisses you furiously before breaking away, “God damn f-fuckin’ right, princess. All fuckin’ mine to do whatever I fuckin’ want.” And with that, he’s slamming into you, his hand on the headboard in a (wasted) attempt to save the wall from the constant banging. 

“Touch that pretty little clit, princess,” he breathes out, chasing his own release now with the sole intention of marking you with his seed. One hand still on his neck, the other snakes down to rub your clit in fast, messy circles, your body begging to cum for a fourth time tonight. “Daddy,” you whine out again, the honorific clearly being your only vocabulary for tonight. 

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos, “Cum for me, mama, and I’ll fill you up right fuckin’ now,” he sucks on your bottom lip, “You want that, baby? To be pumped full of me?” He knows your answer, yet he still asks anyway knowing how much his words affect you. 

“Please, God, yes, fill me up… I need your cum so fucking badly, I need to feel you, please,” you beg, only spurring him on more. 

With both of your mouths spilling such dirty words, his lips anywhere they can reach with the combination of you playing with your clit and him pounding into you, your body enters the astral plane yet again for the fourth time tonight. Though, this time, you force your body to come back down, so you can feel his warmth spill into you. 

It only takes but a few more thrusts after you climax for him to follow suit, roaring out as hot, thick ropes of cum spill into you, overflowing and dripping out of your sore cunt. He slowly pulls out, labored breathing, sits back up and just watches. Watches as your pussy clenches to keep him locked inside of you, watches as his load drips down your folds over your tight, little asshole. Another day, he thinks to himself with a smirk. 

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his fingers are engrossed in the thick combination of your releases. You moan out at the sensitivity of your pussy, but Joel doesn’t care. He slips his middle and ring finger in, feeling just how much he filled you up. And before you know it, he’s pumping in and out of you yet again, his eyes completely focused on your glistening sex, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you fluttering for another fucking release. 

“Ahh,” you hiss, not knowing whether you want him to stop or keep going. He uses his other hand to rub on your clit. Fuck. Yeah, okay, you want him to keep going. “Shit, daddy, I’m gonna cum again,” you say as you scramble to get ahold of the bedsheets. 

Joel’s gaze breaks away from your cunt to look at you, he smirks like the devil, “Oh, yeah, honey? Gonna give me another one? Come on, baby, I know you have it in you,” he slips a third finger inside. You whine at the stretch. “One more mess, baby, and then I’ll take care of you, I gotcha,” he says for comfort. 

You’re nearing the point where you guys usually begin to transition into aftercare, and he knows. He always knows. But he also knows that today you need a little extra push, so he gives it to you. 

The thrusts of his fingers don’t come to a stop, but they exponentially slow. “Give me a color, mi amor,” he softly encourages. Even with your erratic breathing, you’re able to force out, “Oh my god, daddy, green, green, green, please go faster, just like before, please-” 

He quickly leans forward and stops your blabbering with a chaste kiss and chuckles when he pulls back, “My god, I love you so much, princess.” Then his fingers pick back up to the speed you were so desperately loving before, his and your cum leaking out all over the inside of your thighs. 

“Fuck, daddy, I love you so fucking much, fuck, thank you, thank you,” you cry out. A few more pumps and a few more circles to your clit and you’re cumming for the fifth (and final) time tonight. Joel groans at the way you finish on his fingers, and it’s his mouth that blabbers out this time.

“Shit, baby, yes, soak my fuckin’ fingers, let me feel you, fuck-” He’s so enthralled at the sight before him, he doesn’t hear you pleading for him to stop pushing in and out until the honorific fades, “Baby, baby, baby,” you frantically breathe. 

He makes eye contact with you again and realizes how caught up he was in you. “Oh, darlin’, shit, I’m sorry, mi amor. What’s your color, baby? Fuck, I’m sorry-” 

It’s you this time who forces your entire wobbly body to push up and meet him in a bruising kiss. “Stop, daddy,” you say with a lilt in your tone, signaling to Joel that you’re back from subspace. You smirk, “My color is green, cowboy, but I really need you to run me a warm bath now because I can’t move a single muscle with how you had me, baby,” and pull him in once more for another kiss. 

His smugness returns and he pushes you back down on his bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses, forcing sweet out-of-breath giggles from you. “That, I can do, baby. May I join you?”

Your face completely softens, your stresses and worries from the last 24 hours completely nonexistent. “I’d be mad if you didn’t, Miller.” 

The next hour and a half — or until the bath water becomes tepid — is spent with him cherishing your body, washing you with your lavender, oat milk body wash you love so much, ultimately just helping you softly come down from your oxytocin high. 

You’ve never felt more loved, appreciated, or taken care of in your life. He always makes sure your come down is smooth and unnoticeable as you fall from a blissed state of mind to one of pure love and adoration. As long as you have him in your life, you truly believe you have all of what you need. 

As he’s drying your body up and slipping you into one of his t-shirts, your stomach growls… loudly. 

“Darlin’...” 

You pull away from his grasp, jokingly rolling your eyes while smirking, “Yeah, yeah, Miller. Come on. Gotta fill me up again, don’tcha, cowboy?” 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out followed by your name, ���Tryna put me in an early fuckin’ grave or what?”

Author’s note - extended: Hi guys! I birthed this little one shot on a Friday night while sippin’ on a glass of whiskey and stressing about the stressful entire week I just had. This isn’t my first time writing, in general, but this is my first time writing with the intention of truly producing a story out of it.. this is also my first story I’m posting, so I’m very nervous. Even if just one other person reads this and enjoys it, that’s all that matters to me <3 I also wanna give a quick thank you to my bestie, who’s an AVID smut reader, for proofreading this. She said, and I quote, “gotta change my panties” and “she’s growling” after reading this LMAOO. So, thank you for that, bestie. I love you with my whole heart.

As with any fic, reblog and comments are very much appreciated!! All feedback is appreciated, too!!! Please do let me know how you liked this, and if there's anything specific I could work to improve, I'd love to know! I hope I did okay for my first actual attempt at smut.

Much love to everyone! <3

.

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[claritys-silly-things]

It’s that time again yall

Headcanons! It’s a long one this time

Emetophobia tw

- (I think I can classify this as modern) Rip sodapop curtis you would’ve loved saying “I’m just a girl 🎀”

- Soda never liked haircuts. When he was a small feral child his long hair would get tangled a lot, but he’s tender headed as FUCK so he would scream and cry when his momma brought the brush out. Darry put sodas hair into braids sometimes just for fun and soda didn’t mind bc it kept his hair from getting tangled, and then it didn’t hurt to brush. He’s always had really soft hair and it grows super fast.

- Jealous little soda asksjks (this was about soda being jealous over pony getting attention as a baby but I don’t wanna edit the original ramble I wrote down)

- When ponyboy was born he just kind of STARED. No crying or anything just 👁️👁️. Even Darry cried when he was born. Soda cried a lot.

- Adding on, Darry and pony were pretty quiet babies. They still cried for food and stuff sometimes but not a lot. Soda was a LOUDDD crier, and a frequent one too. It was the type of crying that sounds like it hurts the baby’s throat cause they’re shrieking their head off. Also soda would cry for, like, the first year of his life if he was ever handed to his dad.

- If Johnny survived the fire and got a wheelchair, he’d be running over people’s feet. Constantly. Just because. Or bc they asked for it. Either way, the moment he gets a hang of that wheelchair it is OVER for yall. And probably before that too.

- Ponyboy gets the same. Goddamn. Thing. At EVERY restaurant. Partly because it scares him to order anything else, partly because he’s picky asf. He makes sure it’s there on the menu and has his order memorized by now. “Chicken tenders, fries, and a Pepsi please.” He’s tried to ask for other things in the past like eggs, cuz he likes those, but the moment they asked him “how would you like them done” he just stared at Darry because he didn’t know what all the different types of eggs were, and now he’s scared bc he’s taking longer, and the server is still there, so he just got sunny side up eggs and they were slimy and he wanted to go home and cry (based on a true story sadly)

- Basically pony has anxiety and probably autism (so me)

- Ponyboy likes avocado. That’s it that’s the headcanon. It’s like one of the only healthy-ish things he’ll eat.

- Soda gets suuuper nauseous really easily, and pony gets carsick on occasion. So the first time pony went to a theme park, his family was scared that he would throw up like soda. They go on a ride and he’s like “yall im fine dawg.” Soda is jealous bc pony can go on rides unaffected (soda will still go on rides anyways, he just throws up afterwards)

- Pony is the most PALE ASS BITCH you’ve ever seen. He burns soo easily. His face gets red really quickly, no matter what’s going on. The only time he gets the slightest bit darker is when he burns and tans. Two-bit has been like “you ain’t white you translucent” multiple times because in the right lighting you can see pony’s veins. It’s even worse because soda and Darry tan so wonderfully, and pony looks like he had an allergic reaction if he doesn’t reapply his sunscreen when he’s supposed to. I feel like Mrs Curtis is the reason for this, she didn’t tan. Mr Curtis did tho.

- Pony has mild (severe) ocd

- Marcia’s last name is smith she is white-Hispanic on one side and Native American on the other thank you for coming to my TED talk

- Marcia is Cuban and Native American

- Marcia’s full name is Marcia smith that’s it that’s the end

It’s funny cuz I listed these things like three times and just forgot about the other two

- Twobit is Brazilian end headcanon

- Mr Curtis had autism and Mrs Curtis had inattentive adhd

- Mr Curtis was half Mexican on his mom’s side and half Irish on his dad’s side. Mrs Curtis was full Italian-American.

- Darrys the typa guy to make pony and soda turn off a show or movie if it talks about possession or like demonic stuff/soul stealing stuff

- (Modern au) Darry will get a text from ponyboy about something, like “can I go in your room rq” and he sees it but doesn’t actually open the text message until later and like, two hours later he’ll just respond “no” and thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

[quigzahhutt]

🖤 lolex for ask game 👀?

ain’t nothing like putting fictional logan sargeant in a situation

For the kiss prompt game <3

The number 2 decal on the door was peeling, as if the building itself was kicking the younger man out just how James had, and Alex found himself rubbing his left wrist raw; the wrinkles at the joint turned red and angry. A hiccupping sob pierced the thick, uneasy air in the room. Alex hadn't been all that helpful in his attempts at tidying up; the room was tiny, and being here was probably making this much more difficult for Logan, in all honesty. Before he could stop himself, the older man was pushing off the wall, preparing to leave, clearing his throat of the sand that had wiggled it's way in, “Logan– I'm.. I'm sorry, I shouldn't..–” Alex trails off, the stilted motion of Logan shaking his head interrupting his thought, “I didn't even… I tried so hard, Alex,” the American suddenly says, his voice hollow and croaky, “I did the best I could, I just–” Logan continued, and Alex saw where this spiral was leading, and the smoldering hot need to halt it as soon as possible hit him like a freight train. Instead of replying verbally, the older man sauntered over and wrapped his arms around Logan, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on top of his head. Logan just started shivering and began crying harder, sharp, gasping sobs forcing themselves from his throat. His reaction intensifying immediately sent Alex into overdrive, the desperate need to fix it settling in his chest like hot lava. Alex twisted the younger man around, shushing him before cradling him in his arms like he used to do with his siblings when they were young; sometimes they'd get an ugly scrape on the knee, or they'd simply be lonely, and would eventually end up as an inconsolable heap of snot. Holding them usually fixed it right up; hugging them tight and making sure they knew he was there, even for the smallest, silliest things always helped. He hoped the same applied to Logan. The pair stood there for a while, just swaying as the younger man’s sobs persisted, before he began wiggling around in the older man's grasp, pulling away to wipe his face. The wrinkle in Logan's brow was painful; his lip caught between his teeth, creating a dam so no sound could escape from his mouth. Inexplicably, Alex leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the crease between Logan's eyebrows, a desperate attempt at smoothing the pained expression from his face. When Logan didn't react, save for a small, shaky whimper, Alex started to panic again. He reached out to brush his hair back and began peppering kisses along Logan's cheeks; under his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, and finally, the corner of the younger man's mouth. That's when Logan tilts his head to catch Alex's lips as they were moving to brush themselves along the opposite corner of Logan's lips. Alex had a salty taste on his tongue from the younger man's tears that were dried on his face, but Logan didn't seem to mind; the kiss was soft, and yet it was charged with every emotion that had been building up over the last year and a half. Logan wrapped his arms around Alex's torso in a tight squeeze, slipping his arms inside of the older man's jacket and sneaking impossibly closer. It was as if Logan wanted to become a part of him; slither his way into Alex's ribcage and never leave.  When Alex felt tears streaking down Logan's face again, sticky against the older man's cheeks, he immediately pulled away; a sickly, swirling guilt churning in his gut. Logan immediately whines, a strained, sobbing noise bursting out of his chest as soon as the older man leaves his lips. Alex kisses away Logan's tears– the salt on his lips tasting like a goodbye.

ah of course, the inevitable 'logan leaving williams' moment

sorry this is suuuper sloppy but I wrote this at like 2 am last night and I had to wake up at 8am for the gp today so😭😭

[ellsjoint]

Demosthenes Part 1 - Ellie Williams x Reader

Synopsis: Two British university students decide to go to their online friends’ university – what could go wrong? A lot, considering the reader has absolutely no social skills.

A/N: Hi! This is my first TLOU fanfic, and I haven't written fanfiction in years so I hope this is good. This part's pretty much just setting the scene, there's no interaction with Ellie and the reader YET (and it's short as)... But I hope you enjoy this for now! P.S I won't be writing any smut in this just because I don't want to, and at parts this is pretty much just going to be a comedy and me imagining me and my best friend being awkward in this situation.

Future Content: college!ellie, loser!ellie maybe, slow burn, angst (because I'm funny like that), fluff, not really sure yet but we'll see!

Your POV:

This conversation had repeated itself time and time again for the last month.

‘At this point, why not?’ your best friend laughed lightly, ‘this place is a shithole. We should put ourselves out there!’.

‘Do you really think going to uni with these people you’ve never even met is a good idea?’ you stared at them, shaking your head. ‘My family’s here, my dance team’s here, all the small gigs I do are here. Everything is here - I can’t just drop that.’ To you, the idea was laughable. How could you just move across the globe to what, play house with your best friends’ online friends that you’d spoken to maybe once? It seemed silly, and you knew you’d struggle to interact with new people – not because of any form of anxiety you had, but because you sucked at socialising to the extent that you just stopped at one point. Some people didn’t even know you could speak, whereas those you were closer with (like your close friends and dance team) were well aware of your predicament.

‘That’s why you should go! Bro, you hardly speak to anyone here. In a new environment, you could just… I don’t know, maybe try and develop some social skills? Plus, they’ll be starting their first year too.’ your friend shrugged. ‘Please! It’ll be so much fun! Oh, and you can visit your family, and your family can visit you! And there’s probably another dance team at this uni!’ They continued to ramble, trying to persuade you that dropping everything would be worth it. You weren’t exactly convinced, even if you did think her friends seemed okay from the little you had seen of them from your friend’s phone screen.

Continuing to mull the idea over in your head, your friend continued to rant about the situation. ‘You’ve talked to them once! Give them a chance. They think you’re suuuper cool, which is why you should come! You’d be iconic at their uni. And the girls would be all over you! Maybe Ellie would. Did you know Ellie’s gay?’ You’d seen what, 2 memes that this Ellie person had sent your friend on their phone? You knew literally nothing about her other than a portion of her humour.

‘Good for Ellie…?’ you sighed. You knew they weren't going to stop.

‘Come on, you need to give the world a chance. This would be so good for you to just get yourself out there!’ your friend pleaded.  Of course, they tried to focus on its benefits for you (repeating theirself in the process) instead of the large benefit it would have for them – a meeting with their online friends. ‘Please, I don’t want to go by myself. I can’t leave my best friend, and think about it, all my friends getting on? That would be so cool.’

Once again, you let out another sigh, before nodding. ‘Fine, I’ll try it. But if I don’t like it, I’m going home.’

Your friend let out an excited squeal, and you stared at her, a deadpan look on your face. What were you signing yourself up to? Nobody knew, and only time could tell.

[toasterdrake]

aaaaa ok i really hope im not bothering you bc i'm requesting two times in a row, but can i have another yelena oneshot with some hurt/comfort? maybe r gets a life-threatening injury and yel mother-hens r back to health? if that's too specific you can do whatever you want for the 'hurt' part of hurt/comfort

my friend, the day has finally arrived. this beast has sat in my drafts for many many months -- years, even, i think? -- and i have finally accepted i'm never going to finish it. i went suuuper off-script so i've condensed it into just this block before things go haywire. other than that, this is entirely unedited as i last left it, notes and gaps and all. i hope the rest of it (of which there is too much) never again sees the light of day.

if i can even say this any more, enjoy. with this, my time in the mcu fandom truly comes to an end.

Angel

Yelena Belova x Avenger!reader

word count: 4K

Engine malfunction, systems failure, hull compromised, oxygen leakage, proximity alert, eject failure -- every alarm blared impossibly loud in the tiny cockpit, barely audible over the rushing vacuum of wind. 

A stream of creative curses spilled from your mouth as your fingers flew across the sparking dashboard, trying desperately to make something, anything work as your jet's descent steepened, plummeting through low-lying clouds.

Coming up with no other option than to try to limp to a nearby island, you yanked the control stick as hard as you could, bracing your legs as you strained with all your might to pull the plane out of its nosedive. 

You fought gravity itself: your arms feeling as if they were about to be ripped from their sockets. You were trying to lift tonnes of metal with one human's strength alone.

You let out a patriotic scream, blood pumping gloriously. Your cry to the heavens was drowned in the violent wind, the strain of the wings in the wrenching of your shoulders.

Alas, the jet wobbled and shook, breathing black smoke.

The cockpit was beginning to feel like a furnace due to the engine fire below. You were burning up in your heavy aviator's gear despite the cracked canopy's icy flood of air. Your breath came in short pants, crackling in your mask, and the broken radio screamed in your ears.

Land -- no, you'd failed, water -- rushed up to meet you. From the cockpit's window, the lake was a giant gaping blue maw opening wider to swallow you whole. And it would; given the chance, the slightest wavering of will.

Not one to simply accept fate, you struggled out of your buckles and into an emergency parachute, fingers shaking as they worked frantically in your small window of time.

The parachute cord caught on a displaced hunk of metal just as you ripped off your helmet. Masses of white fabric filled your vision. 

Senses clouded, the great boom of impact told you you'd hit water. It rebounded like astral ascension through your bones.

With the whiplash, you jerked forward, slamming into the centre console hard enough to elicit an intense ache in your chest. Your head connected with the dashboard. 

You pulled yourself upright, star-crossed for a moment, darkness clawing at the edges of your vision.

A sharp pain blossomed at your hairline; a thousand needles drove into your skull and twisted. You groaned as the dizziness sent you reeling a second later.

Something hot and wet and dark dripped down your forehead. You wiped it from your stinging eyes. You didn't have time for this. Through dancing stars, the jet was sinking rapidly into unfathomable depths; dragging you down with it never to be seen again.

Shaking off the disorientation, you scooped up your helmet from the floor and began attacking the glass canopy. Your movements were hindered by the limp parachute crowding what little space you had, but still the crack grew. 

Water spilled in faster, faster, sloshing around your shoulders. Finally, the entire pane collapsed into shards. You inhaled the deepest breath of air you could muster milliseconds before--

A great puff of depressurising air thrust you bodily out of the cockpit, as water flooded the jet entirely, wholly conjoining it to the lake. 

You tried to yank your rucksack free of where it was wedged, but it was stubborn and you didn't have seconds to spare. You abandoned it in favour of surging upwards.

You kicked your legs wildly, reaching above your head for filtered sunlight in a desperate bid for fresh air. The pressure in your lungs mounted and mounted.

Your heavy clothes and tired limbs weighed you down. You couldn't struggle out of the woolen aviator jacket; couldn't spare the few moments to let it drag you deeper in freefall.

Still, it was as if you had never left the jet. 

The light above didn't seem to be any closer, your progress like revving with the handbrake on. Your desperate kicks and thrusts weakened, bubbles streaming from your nose, dancing to the sky like ash as time trickled out.

It was dark. So dark. Cold. Lonely. You were thrashing. Water was filling your lungs. You were drowning. You were about to be lost to nature's most powerful force, and no one would know.

A muffled splash above echoed through the dark expanse of water. 

An angel from the surface had come to save you. 

Her form was silhouetted by dancing sunlight wings. Golden ringlets of hair splayed around her head in a halo. She swam down to you, powerful limbs propelling her down in an illusion of ease; a true display of power. 

The strength of her arms was reassuring.



Coughing and spluttering, you jolted upright. Water gushed from your mouth, spilling down your already soaked chest as you sat up. You found curious chartreuse eyes. Somehow, instinctively, you knew they belonged to the angel who saved you.

"Where are your wings?"

"What?" Her accent was dark velvet: authentic slavic, you recognised vaguely. It sent shivers down your spine as much as the chill of the water.

"Cause," A wet cough, "Cause you're an angel -- oh shit that's blood." 

"You have internal bleeding, probably," She said, smoothing back darkened blonde hair, peeling it from her shirt by the disturbance. She was just as soaked as you, as was the patch of grass you occupied.

Frothy, bright red spots of blood littered your hand. A sharp pain in your abdomen made itself present. Dizziness washed over you, but you pushed through to pull up your slick shirt and reveal a deep red discolouration on your chest. 

For some inexplicable reason, you poked it, and winced when a wave of pain crashed through the area. You blushed upon noticing her scrutinising gaze, clearing your throat. Your ribs ached in complaint.

You gratefully took the hand she offered, letting her display that strength again as she hauled you from the ground. She led you from the shore up to a cabin, which dominated what appeared to be an island.

"What's your name?" You asked.

A quiet moment of debate. "Yelena. You?"

You owed each other that much. "[Y/N]."

She hummed in recognition.

"Lie down. It'll help your blood flow more naturally," She said, tone not unkind.

You obeyed, then swallowed awkwardly around the dryness in your throat, piping up, "Could I have a drink of water?"

"Not until you've been treated," Yelena said, words accompanied by a privately playful smirk, to which you pouted. 

You drummed your fingers against your leg, looking around at what of the room you could see, as Yelena became otherwise occupied attending to her dog.

A goatskin rug had been draped over the back of a rocking chair in the corner, almost like hotel decoration. A blazer hung from a peg next to the door. A perfectly pruned arrangement of flowers sprouted from a ceramic vase shaped like a stylised duck, something that looked glittery lacing shards together. A misshapen candle's flame flickered cheerily on the windowsill.

Contrast of lived in and new. Yelena trying to make a home and not knowing how.

Yelena reentered, throwing a set of fresh, baggy clothes at you.

"So, you live here?" You said conversationally, looking out a window at the pine forest outside as you changed painstakingly slowly around his injury.

You could just make out a distant shore beyond the mist-obscured treeline, the grey lake lapping at a dark gravel beach.

Yelena stiffened. You watched out of the corner of your eye as she chewed her lip, face turned away from you. "No," She said, wary. "I'm only here to look after the island for my parents."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you, and returned to gazing outside. Maybe her parents are in hospital or something? Whatever the depth of her reason, it sounded personal. And complex. You shouldn't pry.

And you shouldn't take advantage of an innocent woman's hospitality, your conscience scolded. No choice, you rebutted.

Just then, someone knocked at the front door. Yelena shot you a look that carried a strange cocktail of warning, concern, and apprehension, before disappearing to attend to the visitor.

You weren't left alone for long. Yelena re-entered the room, biting her lip before glancing away and standing awkwardly in a corner. She was followed by a man slightly taller than her, whom you assumed was the doctor by his discoloured beige clinical coat and briefcase.

The doctor himself could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty. He introduced himself as Dr. Graham in his warbly, squeaky voice. His face was mottled by acne scars, his chin weak and bare as if it had never borne a single hair. His babyish eyes popped out of their sockets, making him look like an eternally frightened rabbit. His hairline had already climbed up his forehead, leaving only wispy fawn tuft behind his ears.

Puberty must've hit him like a plastic toy car, you mused.

Dr. Graham did his necessary medical things quickly enough, diagnosing you miraculously concussion-free. You provided an easy lie about falling down the stairs when moving boxes, which the doctor accepted with a degree of coldness and Yelena listened to with something like caution in her eyes.

"You need four weeks of bedrest," Dr. Graham sternly gave his departing orders, crossing his arms over his chest in tepid persistence.

"But--"

"No buts."

"But--" Yelena tried.

"No. Buts. Good day to you." He stressed, glaring at each of you -- the effect somewhat disheartened by his buggish eyes -- before striding out the door.

"We'll see if your hairline lasts four weeks," You grumbled darkly. Yelena snickered at that, which drew your attention to her. 

"So."

"So," Yelena prompted when you trailed off, looking at you quizzically.

"So, is it okay for me to stay with you that long? I can't exactly go anywhere else; the jet had all my money and cards in it." The bandages wrapped around your chest flexed uncomfortably with stretching muscle.

Well, Tony's cards.

"Sure, why not. I don't plan on going anywhere for a while," There it was again; that cautious reservedness showing itself to maintain the simmering distance between you. "I will need to pick up some groceries from town though. Will you be alright here with Fanny?" Yelena said, moving to the doorway again.

"We're on one of the Thousand Islands, right? How does an entire town fit? I mean I can understand a doctor, but--"

Yelena rolled her eyes. "The town is on the mainland. I'll be taking my boat, Paučók." She said, a hint of motherly pride slipping through at that. "Also, the doctor used his own boat. We're alone on this island."

"Oh," Heat rose to your cheeks.

She rolled her eyes again and strode away. An unmistakable bulge in her pocket caught your eye. Your mood darkened. Maybe her parents aren't in hospital after all.

With that fun revelation, you decided to do some harmless snooping once Yelena was out of sight. The front door clicked shut, the lock twisting with anxious finality.

Pulling yourself off the chair, you leaned against the wall, riding out an immobilising wave of pain for a few long moments, your eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted. A little internal bleeding wouldn't stop you!

Fanny fretted at your heels, seemingly unperturbed by your being a stranger. You petted her reassuringly, and she scampered off down the hallway, leaving you to trail behind her at a snail's pace.

Y comes back, confesses past nervously, R guilty, reveals snooping, Y angry, trust lost, R works to apologise and reopens wound



A week later, Dr. Graham called requesting you go to the clinic for a check-up. You took the call since Yelena was in the boat shelter doing maintenance on Paučók. Because you had started a streak of regaining trust, you decided you would obey the doctor. Just this once. 

You didn't like pissing people off, contrary to popular belief -- it was messy to fix and sent you completely out of your depth -- even if it was endlessly amusing to annoy the doctor. Besides, Yelena would give you an earful if you hurt yourself again.

Heading out to find the aforementioned Russian and inform her, you took a plated stack of the pancakes you'd made, just in case she hadn't eaten yet. She'd been up and gone by the time you got moving, just dumping a used coffee cup in the sink as you appeared in the kitchen.

Walking through the bracing early morning mist, you got the sensation it wasn't going to shift for the rest of the day. The icy vapour stung your cheeks and whipped you into full vigilance: a hard slap from Mother Nature. You pulled your aviator's jacket tighter over your shoulders.

Stepping into the boat shelter, you went unnoticed by Yelena. This was strange, considering that in the time you'd known each other she'd always seemed to have a sixth sense for detecting your presence before you'd even walked through the door.

The cause of her distraction was soon revealed, as the whirring of machinery permeated the workshop.

Oh shit. Okay. She's ripped. Damn. Okay. Cool. Okay. Okay. Take a deep breath. One, two, three, release. Okay. Now use your words.

"I-I brought you, um, cakespan -- no, uhm -- pancakes!"

...What?!

You cringed.

(Gae muscle panic)

The doctor's clinic was, for whatever reason, not located on the mainland. Instead, it inhabited one of the larger islands alongside a few other residences -- enough to form a hamlet -- that sat just a few hundred metres into the lake, near the main feeding river's mouth. The clinic itself was a converted gothic mansion, all arching stone masonry and high, gilded ceilings that made rooms echo eerily.

The place wasn't busy; you were seen after just a few minutes, the only other patient being a pregnant woman accompanied by her wife. Yelena trailed after you into the examination room, stuck on the boundary of limiting your association and keeping you in her sights at all times.

You exchanged an apprehensive look upon noticing an unfamiliar boat moored to the island's jetty.

Yelena pulled in quietly, killing the engine and letting Paučók drift into place on the current. You both stepped out onto the platform, gaze locked on the stagnant house through sentinel trees. Its dark windows gazed back steadily with quiet amusement. 

Yelena bent to secure Paučók's ropes. She reached into her pocket and handed you a loaded semi-automatic handgun, as well as drawing a revolver for herself.

You handled the handgun with familiarity. "God, how many guns do you have on you?"

"Enough to be prepared."

Together, you crept up the beaten dirt track to the house, guns poised to react. The building waited for you patiently.

A bird swooped low over your heads, flapping hurriedly to ascend. You and Yelena startled at the abrupt action. The desperation in its wake left a strange, almost oppressive tension heavy in the crowding mist. 

In the next moment, it was dispelled like a river bursting as Fanny came sprinting after the bird through the trees, barking freely. She skidded to a halt at Yelena's feet, who quickly bent to attend to her dog. She slipped Fanny a treat and ruffled her thick coat, speaking to her as if she could answer.

"What happened, Fan? What are you doing out of the house, huh?" Yelena cooed. Fanny panted happily in response.

"Fanny!" A new voice called jovially through the opaque mist. 

A second later, a hazy humanoid solidified into an approaching silhouette striding toward them. With every muted step, their features sharpened to reveal fiery red hair draped over slim shoulders, a vest secure over a dark bodysuit, green eyes eclipsed by the dreary surroundings.

"Fanny," Natasha said again, scolding this time with a playful lilt, coming to a stop in front of the three.

"Natasha," Yelena answered, wide-eyed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Yeah, Nat," You piped up. "What are you doing here?"

Natasha looked at him, surprise evident in her expression. "[Y/N]? What are you doing here?"

"Okay, we're getting nowhere with this. Let's go inside." Yelena said, leading the way up to the house. Fanny ran ahead eagerly, twirling in impatient circles as everyone traipsed behind her.

Once inside, the frigid mist shut out behind a heavy wooden door, you immediately moved to the fire. You rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to expose your forearms, but didn't shrug it off, still feeling the chill in your bones. You stirred up the glowing embers; feeding them another log and coaxing a true, strong flame out of it.

Meanwhile, Yelena hung up her overshirt on a peg and stepped into the adjoining kitchen, shuffling through cupboards. The kettle's whistle crescendoed cheerily a few moments later. 

Natasha kicked off her boots at the door, falling into an armchair with a grateful sigh. She produced a dog toy from a pocket when Fanny jumped onto her lap, teasing the Shepherd with it but neither wanting to move too far.

Accepting the mug of coffee from Yelena when she padded back into the living room, you took the other armchair, leaving her to claim the plush loveseat. Fanny jumped off Natasha's lap as she received her beverage, instead lying down on a rug in front of the resplendently roaring fire.

You inhaled the steam, the soft fragrance providing gentle caresses of nostalgia. You blew on the hot liquid until it was cool enough to sip safely, smiling at the taste. 

Yelena and Natasha sipped quietly from their own mugs -- labelled 'blood of my enemies' and 'keep it up and you will be a strange smell in the attic' respectively -- while staring introspectively into the fire. Well, Natasha was. Yelena was admiring Fanny. As she rightfully should.

"So, Natasha," The blonde finally said, facing the other woman with a somewhat annoyed expression, "What has brought you here?" 

Drizzling rain began to fall outside. Fresh symphonies of pine wafted in through a cracked open window, condensation forming in the corners of its rustic frame.

Natasha tore her gaze from the fire to meet her sister's over the rim of her mug. "Mason called me to say you'd requested extra time. He wanted me to make sure you hadn't gotten yourself into trouble."

Yelena nodded absently. Her hazel eyes were glazed over; distant in thought. You looked between the sisters, utterly lost. 

"Mason? Is he your landlord? Are you leaving soon?"

The log crackled and popped, jolting hard enough to cause everyone in the room to startle. Yelena stared into her mug guiltily.

"No. He's… this a safehouse. I'm waiting for some media controversy to blow over." She confessed to the hot chocolate.

"Controversy surrounding the death of an important army benefactor?" You asked.

She looked up at you, clearly surprised and a little wary, but nodded. You sank a little deeper into the armchair, trying to make yourself smaller. Yelena looked to Natasha for an explanation. The avenger smirked.

"[Y/N] here had to leave the states pretty urgently after being framed for that benefactor's murder," She supplied, clearly enjoying every moment of what was to come.

Yelena gaped for a few moments, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before she finally managed coherency. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I promise I wasn't the one to point any blame at you."

You waved her off, red-faced. "It's fine. We know who it was. Unfortunately, no official will even consider it, and demand I be put behind bars."

"Tony's working on the legal stuff," Natasha reassured you, before returning her attention to her drink. 

"Tony? As in Tony Stark of Stark Industries? Iron Man? You know him?" Yelena gushed, eyes shining.

"WellI'mkindofanavenger," You mumbled sheepishly. Natasha snorted in amusement.

"[Y/N] is one of the cool kids I run around with," She said in answer to Yelena's confused frown.

The Russian was struck speechless. Fanny sighed and shifted, briefly drawing her attention from blank staring, which gave you a breather to compose yourself.

"Yes. I'm an Avenger," you said; steady and strong. You were proud of your occupation. You'd saved lives -- the entire planet! -- countless times, and you'd do it again in a heartbeat. Yelena had every right to understand that.

"So," Natasha said, finishing her drink in one gulp and standing, "I'll be calling Mason to tell him everything's fine, and the other safehouse in Yukon is free since you're both staying here. That right?"



Natasha ended up staying with you. 

In a quiet conversation by the patio firepit after Nat had gone to bed, you and Yelena both agreed that the avenger needed this more than she cared to admit. 

The next morning, Yelena invited her sister to stay with you for the whole run of your supposed bedrest, to which she reluctantly agreed. 

(Honestly, your insistence swayed her more than her own volition. She couldn't resist three sets of puppy eyes.)

It was hard for Natasha to let go of work.

The boys and Wanda were a mess without her, and she received numerous disgruntled or chaotic calls throughout the day. She talked herself into flying back to the states multiple times, but you wouldn't let her. 

Yelena tried telling the team to back off -- to just let her relax -- but they failed to learn how to function without Natasha. 

Eventually, Pepper intervened and the calls stopped. 

Before this, you had put Nat's phone on silent and hidden it while she was showering. Yelena returned with clothing flown over from the compound (she'd been lending hers to her sister until now since Nat didn't bring any) to find you taped to a wall and Natasha in a frenzy.

That day, her paranoia swiftly devolved into a panic attack, which turned into a full breakdown. 

It was heartbreaking to watch your friend fall apart. Yelena helped her through it, and after a therapeutic cry Nat was more willing to ignore the others. The team knew the emergency code. She was finally ready to accept a break.

Released from the tape by a sheepish Natasha, you gave her a loving hug to melt into, then texted Pepper.

Nat was much happier after that. Her soul sang free like the spring songbirds for the first time. Even during the three years in Ohio, the shadow of the Red Room had bound her wings, and the recent ordeal of taking down Dreykov, of Antonia -- coming face-to-face with her greatest nightmare -- had been emotionally intense. To say the least.

Finally getting a true break allowed the reality of those horrors to be released. A huge weight took flight from her shoulders. 

Of course, healing takes time, and is not a linear journey. You and Yelena were there for Natasha every day.

Yelena's mood improved with her sister's, and soon the two were acting as if they'd never been trained assassins separated for twenty years. They were just a normal family. Happy, content.

Mealtimes were filled with cheerful banter and laughter, the result of weaving around bodies crammed into the kitchen and steam clouding cracked open windows.

Mornings were spent lazing in bed, followed by sunbathing on the porch with a coffee. Nights were either filled with alcohol and stumbling to bed; or books, cozy blankets and a roaring fireplace. The rest of their day was occupied with chores, exploring the island, and swimming in the lake. Natasha mostly played with Fanny around the island. She was almost more infatuated with the dog than Yelena, if that was even possible.

At some point, you ended up gravitating into Yelena's bed.

[tinyidle]

Hi I'm the one that asked if you'd write for blackpink, could I please request a cute and smutty Poly one shot with Chaennie where they surprise reader for their birthday

(Idk why I asked on anon the first time lol I was shy ig)

Happy Birthday, Baby - KJN x YN x PRS/PCY

first of all, im suuuper sorry for taking so long! secondly, i hope you enjoy this fic.

wc: 1.2k

WARNING: smut, fluff, threesome, foreplay, facesitting, tribbing, mention of toy usage but nothing comes from it, dom!jennie, dom!rose, switch!reader, fem reader, all fiction ofc

you weren't the happiest for your birthday, but you were glad that this year you would able to celebrate with your girlfriends. jennie and rose have been with you for a few months, but it felt like you were together for years. life was dull until they came in, and now you find yourself smiling more than once every day-- something that, before meeting them, barely happened during the week.

you came back from work and were surprised with the big "SURPRISE!!" from the two for your favorite girls in the world. they held a lightly ablazed cake with your name on it. "happy birthday!" the exclaimed, smiling and laughing at how you instantly shed tears of joy and appreciation for having two wonderful girls by your side.

you wiped your tears as you laughed along with them before blowing out your candles. as the two cheered and clapped (to the best of rose's ability because she was holding the cake), you watched as jennie went to the kitchen to grab some plates and forks. "thank you, guys, really," you said with full gratitude. "work was great as usual, but you always know how to make my nights better than the last."

"of course," rose said as she put the small heart cake on the coffee table. "we always want to make our special girl feel extra special on her special day."

you giggled as jennie finally came back with the cutlery and napkins. "and what better way to make our special girl feel special than to have her favorite cake and favorite position?" as rose nodded along, agreeing with the words jennie chimed in with, you were confused. position? what does she mean by-

"when you're finished, baby, take off all the clothes you can while we take care of you, okay?" rose's thick accent was laced with something else all-too familiar with you: lust. now all you could think of was wonder what type of position they would put you in that was supposedly your favorite.

while you three were eating your slices of the heart cake, you couldn't help the thumping in your ears from your heart beating out of control. the only thing on your mind weren't necessarily things, but rather your two lovers as they seemed to be eating the cake a lot slower than you wanted. as much as you wished to stuff yourself and them with the rest of your slices, you had to be patient. they planned a special night for you, and you are not going to let impatience ruin it for you.

an hour of slowly eating your slice (as you watched jennie swirl her tongue on the frosting and rose sensually lick the plate to further agitate you), you went upstairs and did what was instructed with you. as quickly as your clothes were off, your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight of your naked girlfriends. each one standing in front of you, as if daring you to look away from the stunning display in front of you. both jennie and rose took your hands and led you to the bed.

"spread your legs for us, baby," jennie told you. the girls smiled as you lay down and spread your legs. both gently kissed you on each cheek as their as hands explored every inch of your body. the love and passion between you three was clearly visible in the expressions on each other.

jennie's mouth went down to kiss along your jawline, sucking a bit on it before reaching your lips, starting a mind-numbing makeout session. as you were busy with your mouth, rose was busy trailing her kisses from your neck down to your nipples. she blew on them, making your visibly shiver, before latching on to them with her tongue and the roof of her mouth. your moans mixed with jennie's turned to whines as rose was giving your breasts the attention they truly deserved.

soon enough you wanted to be fucked, no longer being played with as the two then took turns making your center the wettest its ever been in a while. "please," you begged while breaking away from the kiss as jennie's fingers were rubbing your clit and rose was two knuckles deep. "i want you to fuck me."

"oh?" rose teasingly asked. "which one? my cock or jennie's?" even though they knew that they could both fuck you at the same time, with or without toys, they both knew your favorite position required one person at a time so that you could catch your breath.

"both of you." without asking any questions, although they had a lot at the time, nodded.

"how do you want us?" jennie asked. you motioned that you wanted one woman's cunt on yours while the other's cunt sat on your face. "aren't we supposed to be seeing you though, baby?" you didn't answer, but instead pulled them over the spots your motioned them to with a whine. "okay," jennie obliged, "anything for the special girl on her special day."

with your ass on the edge of the bed and your two best friends sitting above you, jennie began to ride your center while rose rode your face hard. the soft slapping sounds of skin-on-skin was music to your ears as the friction increased from thrusts. your hands found your slightly older lover's breasts while the oldest squeezed and rubbed your nipples. it felt like heaven.

before long, the room was filled with your moans and their groans as jennie's hips were bucking harder than normal, trying to reach that sweet release as well as you and rose. "fuck, im about to cum," you declared through your muffled mouth, causing rose to moan louder as her ass constantly bounced atop of your tongue. "cum for me rosie, jen. pleaseee~"

your request made them both move faster as your mouth started to become numb and your clit being overstimulated. rose came first, shivering as her cum dripped into your awaiting lips. "fuck," she whimpered, shaking her hips a bit before getting off your now drenched face.

jennie came straight after, thrusting forwards one more time before cumming directly on your pelvis, your center now sticky with each other's essence. both girls' orgasms left them panting and breathless. you panted too, barely able to keep your eyes open as you laid there, completely. the three of you just laid there, taking deep breaths before jennie spoke up again. "did you have fun, darling?"

you looked at her with a smile as you hummed. "yeah, i did." jennie gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. you turned to rose. "is this everything you wanted for my birthday?"

the bleached red head bit her lip before running her fingers against your stomach. "we were expecting to fuck you individually. but this was so much better. right jennie?"

jennie nodded. "right. we're just glad we got to celebrate you the way wanted us." both girls wrapped their arms around you and kissed you before kissing each other. then you kissed each woman before sighing in their love.

"happy birthday, baby. we live you so much."

[aibouart]

can. can i request a red infodump perhaps? :3c ive seen them around a bit before but i have uh no idea what their lore/story is at all and im v curious!!!

WWWWWWWYAYYAYAYAYAYAYA !!!

i'm gonna gon on abt his species first cuz ........

i half jokingly refer to red as a "walking content warning" cuz he has a SUPER BAD home life. i made him to cope over 10 years ago, now, so he has a looong history of being used to get through my childhood and as such, his backstory is insane.

all you'd need to really know abt his backstory is like...

His father is a super shit person, his mother is basically missing but she was also not good in her own weird way, he has a sister he rarely speaks to because he's stuck at home and doesn't know how to leave, and he has a brother (red is the youngest) who is stuck in a baby's body and is usually being cared for by his sister (lore below explains why he's like that).

red lives primarily alone as his father is usually not home anymore, and he hates being a vampire or hurting people, and gets suuuper awkward around any pop culture vampire talk which is think is funny.

so red's vampiric species is very simple compared to human made vampiric lore and a lot of things are considered misconceptions, or things that could be attributed to *other* vampiric species that were blanketly attached to the concept of "vampire" by humans who are largely uneducated on them (and tbf most vampiric species aren't super knowledgeable abt each other either in my verse).

their primary biological traits aaare:

they are cold like normal vampire lore, and have fangs (retractable but doesn't need to be extended usually), and will often have very light coloured eyes. they can easily die due to illnesses that normally don't kill humans because of their lower body temp, to blood loss, and can only really be called immortal due to not dying of old age.

they also have a "starvation mode" where if they've been without food for too long, will become animalistic in nature and hunt humans. Red's hair turns near-black and his eyes become red when he is in this mode. they gain incredible strength and even heat vision to hunt down humans so they don't perish. after eating a meal (usually they do it with little care for the person's well-being while like this) they will revert back to their normal selves and have little memory of what happened during this state. although the state itself can store basic memories to help hunt later (such as if certain places are dangerous last time they went there, or if they got attacked for one reason or another). this separation of memories isn't meant to be an allegory for systems btw so i hope no one is thinking that i'm doing that!! ;__;;b!

these vampires start off looking and eating like normal humans, but eventually something within them hits a timer and they turn vampiric naturally (they can convert humans if humans drink their blood though). the process can be seen coming as their appetite lowers and they become a bit sluggish and lower body temp before the process kicks in full swing and they painfully turn to a vampire. after that, their body stops aging.

this specific species of vampires are meant to co-exist with humans and live along side them. humans provide a source of food, and the vampires can help provide protection and even mingle well socially. the vampire species can breed with humans and human-vampire babies on average will usually turn vampiric later in adulthood, but vampire-vampire children (especially vampires with little human lineage) tend to turn too quickly.

his vampiric species was doing well within small human communities and living how they're supposed to, before humans from far away locations came, saw the vampires and how they fed off of humans, and drove them away. plenty of vampires lost their lives to this invasion, and the other humans were too easily switched over to an aggressive mob mentality towards them, so they were forced to live isolated and prey on humans in the dark. it's def possible not all of them turned against vampires, but it was too dangerous for them to stay.

Red was born around the time this happened (he's abt 2000 yo usually)........

during the time humans and vampires slowly started to be reintroduced to each other, vampiric based pop culture started to become popular in human societies so the vampires weren't too keen on the whole, slay vampires thing media was doing a lot of. because of the focus on vampires as a pop culture thing, humans started applying a lot of concepts to them on a broad scale (unable to be in the sun, garlic allergy, etc). red typically only went into human cities or villages out of curiosity, but was terrified of saying anything to them in case he was found out (esp seeing as the whole.. kill vampire thing was a popular thing in media.......)

a lot of these ideas were applied due to sightings or findings of vampiric persons by humans, but were individualistic traits that were then applied to all vampires (my fav is like, the garlic thing straight up just being one guy's allergy). (the bat turning thing is not possible for red's species of vampires, but it is possible for a fey vampire combo species that dwell in the forest. they are shapeshifters that shift between an animal/furry form and a human form).

red's species, originally being a pretty small group in a small area, has a long history of vampires taking leadership positions and even being strict about their culture and stances on interaction between them and humans (especially after the drive to exterminate them, they developed a lot of strict rules to protect their kind and youth). red's father is part of these leaders, and red was supposed to be the heir as he's the only one who turned late enough to be an actual adult, but because of his pacifist nature and generally meek demeanour he was already on his father's bad side growing up.

the day of his turning was to be held with the other leader dudes, but when provided a person to have as his first meal, he refused to hurt them and was quickly labelled a disgrace and no longer allowed to be the heir.

red's father, and plenty of the other old guys appointed leader of the species, typically regard humans as nothing more than food things and to not be considered with compassion and especially not to be mingled with. red has made a number of human friends over the centuries but learned pretty fast to make sure his dad never. ever. finds out he has them.

despite the seemingly strict ruling on their vampiric society, a lot of young vampires (and especially those from turned humans) have a large disconnect from them and usually just know they exist and have these rules, but it's not like they can do anything about their spread out community doing what they want.

my favourite part of the modern age for them is that they have a vampiric social media and the only way to be able to sign up is to be vetted by a confirmed vampire of their species. they have their own memes and whatnot, and my fav one is "the vlad". the lovingly chosen name for the human stereotype of a vampire. a lot of them use it mockingly, but there's a tonne of them who also genuinely love the vlad and make groups for being fans of it. count chocula gets posted every halloween, ofc.

red isn't super active on vampiric facebook but he is signed up. he's not good at the whole technology thing in general, but he is aware of the vlad and will often mutter "a vlad..." when he sees one, mystified.

one time a guy who was signed up was found out not to be an actual vampire and it sent the community into a frenzy cuz how tf did they get on the site when it's so strict. it instantly became a classic meme for them, the one time a vampire kinnie joined somehow (obviously im not mocking kins, i am also a kinnie). they only found out cuz the guy actually confessed and was quickly banned. no one knows who vetted them, either.

i think im done w this dump for noooow even tho im sure it's not everything just cuz my net went down like 3 times while typing this GOD

if u wanna know more abt red himself tho i could rant abt his friends and their polycule tho hee hee hoo hoo

[dweamofsweep]

Final few drawings from this sketchbook now that I’m recycling it! Kind of sad because this particular notebook was one I used as a little kid, it has some suuuper old and embarrassingly bad (but funny) drawings in it.

Also just going to put this here; I know something kind of blew up here over the weekend in this corner of Tumblr. Dr. Tezuka has been dead for several decades now, so we will never know exactly what “ending” he thought about for Tenma and Astro further than how they got separated and never really permanently reunited throughout his numerous re-writes and loose canon tendencies. That’s up to us to parse and make meaning of and potentially imagine beyond for ourselves as audience members of the series, which many fans have done over the years (And even any other official work done after Tezuka’s passing, like AB2003 and ATB, Pluto etc are basically the same thing). I believe we are allowed to disagree with the evaluations of media that others come up with, whether just in our heads or posted publicly! However, it is not our job to budge every last person’s opinion on the internet. We may “see” each other on a somewhat regular basis because, let’s face it, this fandom is pretty small, but at the end of the day none of us know everything that informs the meaning being made by the others — and we are not obligated to disclose such personal information for any reason, in real life or online. To give you an example and offer up something about myself, Astro as a character resonates with me in large part because he stands on the border between one group and another; although he is certainly a robot, he lives his life as a human would most of the time, creating a split between himself and other robots while still not being accepted fully into human society. It gives him a unique opportunity to bridge the two together, but as a result he can never be entirely one or the other. The reason why I find that fascinating is because I am a second-gen immigrant Asian-American, and it forms some parallels with the way I feel in my own life, having been raised more American than Asian. Also, my parents are culturally Chinese-Indonesian, but ethnically appear Chinese (as do I). I will never be fully accepted into native Chinese, Indonesian, or Chinese-Indonesian communities because I act too much like an “American” despite my appearance. I will also never be fully accepted into the American community I live in because I still cling onto some of my heritage, and of course also because of my appearance. But maybe due to my experience in both worlds, the chances have increased that I could foster greater empathy, interest, or understanding between them, and Astro gives me hope for that.

However— I wouldn’t expect anyone here to know that (or even remember after reading it — it’s fine, you can purge the info from your brain LOL) even if it does affect my readings of certain scenarios and stories. If someone were to post something that doesn’t acknowledge or reflect the perspective I have, I can feel any type of way about it, but I have to remind myself I don’t know where they’re coming from and to try not to take it too personally, since they don’t know where I’m coming from either. Maybe someone has had the exact opposite experience from me, maybe they just haven’t been in any comparable situation to begin with, they could also be a lot younger or older, or from another part of the world — on the internet you really just don’t know, and a person doesn’t really have to tell you if they don’t want to. Personally, once I’ve said my piece, I’ve said it. If someone disagrees with me over the same point repeatedly, and I considered their viewpoint but decided to retain mine, I don’t continue to engage them, because I know it gets unproductive sooner or later (neither side changes their mind or learns anything new, if anything we both just become more stubborn about our own arguments because we have to keep making the same one over and over). I do think about Tezuka’s and other artists’ work very seriously, as an artist myself and an aspiring professional, and I believe that’s a valid angle to come from. Yet I often just draw things on a whim despite the aforementioned, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, most of my drawings have very little meaning. I just post on here hoping it might make someone else a bit happier to see it; I suspect that many others in the community do the same. (Obviously if I misrepresent something severely in my own work, which I hope I will not but you never know, I want someone to tell me about it, but I didn’t think this was the case in the particular situation happening now.)

and… I will freely admit to sharing outlandish internet takes both as a kid and as an adult, then changing my mind and looking back on it, as well as my behavior in general, later with regret 😭 it will happen again, I’m sure… perhaps this is one and I should have kept my mouth shut, but I hope this at least gave some of my perspective. If you want to probe any further into my thoughts or ask for clarification you can!

[birdybirdnerd]

Midnight for spence, secret for Nance, wound for raph-nce (I had to keep the bit going)

ALRIGHT sorry i had to wait till i could be somewhere with wifi to do this

oc asks: not so nice edition!

Midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

changes over the course of parable actors. before meeting up with the brigade, spencer has a lot of anxieties about his parable, nightmares about endless looping hallways and being alone and not mattering to anyone. nightmares about waking back up there specifically, all the hard work hes put into becoming his own person erased like it never happened. he uh, did a lot of late night wandering whenever it kept him up, or drank himself unconscious. not good!

after basically adopting gidget, his anxieties turned towards 'oh god oh fuck this person needs someone put together to help them and im a mess, this is a mistake, im gonna fuck them up irreversibly and just continue to traumatize this poor traumatized kid and that is the LAST thing i want'

things get a lot better for awhile there, until, of course, the end of reset the actors, when his fucking narrator returns and now spencer needs to handle this and deal with this and figure things out and he cant impose this bastard on other people, he can take care of it himself, and god hes so annoying and awful but hes too pathetic to just drop off on the street and wipe my hands of the whole thing, and id feel like a fucking fraud if i didnt give him a second chance but now the nightmares from when i first left the parable are back and theyre mixing with new ones where nansen somehow figures out how to go back and drags me back and it was all for nothing, ill never see the others again, oh god-

so uh. yeah. he quit drinking for awhile there for gidget, but nancys return marks a return of his alcoholism (for a bit. they all get their shit together again thank god and spencer never, ever again touches the stuff except for a Single glass of champagne/wine at a particularly fancy dinner or party, maybe once a year at most)

Secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

nancy admits this to dr joy one session, and no one else.

when he first saw spencer in the falling-apart parable the coalition had made their base, when the rescue attempt for the narrator was in full swing, when hed spent years with a slowly dawning horror at what the other versions of him had done, and what that corrupted parable leading the charge was doing,

he was so, so close. seconds away, even. from grabbing spencer and running and not stopping until they were back, safe, in their own parable

he would have done it, if spencer hadnt interrupted him to demand his help in finding gidget

Wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

raph is a HUUUUGE drama queen and makes a mountain out of a molehill to cope. the more dramatic she is about something though, the less serious it actually is

but when shes really, actually hurt, she tends to retreat. hide it. put on a smile and act like nothings wrong, what are you talking about? this goes for both physical and emotional hurts, too; shell work on a twisted ankle or a pulled muscle until the pain is literally too much for her to even move, and keep forging onwards when her head is a disaster zone until the depression is so thick and murky she cant see a way out of bed in the morning

dont think shes had any suuuper serious physical injuries, maybe needed stitches from falls on set or casts for fractured bones. shes pretty hardy, even if she can be kind of a clutz

emotionally, the worst shes been would have to be... hm. sometime maybe a few months before the brigade formed, i can see her having started her transition months prior. shes been part of this theater/drag group for almost a year now, surrounded by people so, so much like her that love her so much. helping her figure her way out in the world, and in herself. odette dotes on her, is supportive, helps her get on hormones and become more comfortable with herself.

estrogen therapy comes with increased mood swings, heightened emotions, and raph already has bipolar disorder. she feels so much all the time, and the hormones make that stronger, and one day she realizes all the good she has and how different everything is and shes faced in the mirror with the face of someone she can actually love-

and she suddenly feels like a fraud. shes a fake. shes not human, shes not one of these girls. she was made to press buttons, was made as a vessel for the players enjoyment of a game that wasnt even fun anymore, none of them had to go through what she did and she cant even tell them, shes crazy, shes nothing, her narrator was right-

big bad mood swing. bed bound for weeks. raph loses a lot of weight, burns some bridges when the only energy spikes she gets are to yell at the people she loves with all her heart (those bridges reform, i promise, amends are made and therapy helps all). its bad, and the only reason she didnt fully waste away was that odette never once gave up on her, despite rows and no responses.

raph still feels so terribly guilty about this, but has worked to be at peace with herself over it since then

[colorisbyshe]

Hey! I just found some of your posts bc I was searching scleral buckle in the search bar… you had one post that said retinal detachment is usually for people in their 50s+ but I am 27 so heeeeyy ❤️ I just had surgery last Wednesday and was wondering how things are for you since it seems like it’s been like 10 or so months since you had yours done? Maybe im wrong idk but I literally do not know anyone irl with this, or online either. Hoping for some words of advice and also maybe to hear that there’s light at the end of this horrible thing im going through rn

Hi!

It’s actually been a couple of years since my surgery, I got mine riiiight as hospitals were getting overcrowded and restrictive cause of Covid so it’s been a hot second!

In the immediate wake of my surgery, I had double vision. A freak out about puss that had me going to my specialist just to affirm that it’s okay. And I hated the recovery period and spent time trying to remove the arm off al old pair of glasses so I could lie on my side and watch tv lol. I wasn’t in a good place, it sucked. Eye horror affected me very badly for the first ~2 years because the sight of my scarred eye freaked me out

But most of the awful bits were over within a month, maybe bits lingered for two but I honestly don’t remember.

As for longterm consequences, my right eye (that experienced the holes/detachment) is slightly worse than my left eye prescription wise but it’s not a major difference. Some peripheral vision is weaker in the sense that there are small patches at are a bit blurry. I can feel a bump where the incision was when I’m rubbing my eye sometimes.

And when I’m suuuper tired or my eyes are suuuper dry (which happens more often now but I might just be aging lmfao), sometimes the dread Black Curtain around the edge of my eye sight comes back. My specialist says it’s fine.

I went from monthly check ups to every three months to every six months but I will likely be going to some specialist at least yearly, if not twice a year, for the rest of my life.

But otherwise… life is normal. My eye doesn’t look weird, though they’re never been even even before this. I can read with both eyes open or even with my good eye closed, though perhaps the text is SLIGHTLY blurry. I can drive safely. No more holes have appeared.

Just don’t do anything that will involve potentially hitting your head. Head injuries, even mild ones, are high risk. That said I went on some roller coasters that threw my head about and I’m fine. I have no other advice—listen to your surgeon and know it’ll be okay on the other side.

We are higher risk in general for some issues down the line but four years in I haven’t hit ‘em yet so. I think we’re both gonna be okay for a while yet!

[dark-elf-writes]

So for you PYT AU, how do Inko and Oboro get married, do they just go down to the courthouse with a few people because that's all they need for their love? Or is it a sweet little backyard deal? Or is it further into Oboro career so he is making bank and they do a big do where he spoils Inko? Please I need details. Also I am envisioning Izuku as flower child.

At first I wasn’t sold that they would actually get married or if they would be the couple that just dates forever and calls each other husband and wife, but then I thought about benefits and possible issues with hero work if she isn’t his wife so yeah it would make more sense for them to be married.

The strike me as a couple that still wouldn’t rush into marriage though. Like Inko got massively screwed over in her last marriage and wasn’t even technically divorced until several years into her relationship with Oboro so I can see them having like a suuuper long engagement during which izuku just starts referring to Oboro as their dad because “my mom’s fiancé” is a god damn mouthful when you’re like ten and trying to tell a story and it’s not like they remember Hisashi being around anyway.

Oboro proposed in the most over the top way possible while still keeping it rather private. I’m talking a big family dinner at a restaurant he rented out completely, a nice walk where they were a bit in front of everyone else, candles, rose petals, biodegradable glitter and confetti poppers that Hizashi and Izuku aimed directly for both of their heads when she said yes. Incredibly romantic. Oboro is filmed on patrol with glitter stuck in his hair and the biggest grin on his face for DAYS.

The actual ceremony they would probably keep pretty small/pretty much a hero only affair. Both for security reasons and because Inko doesn’t really have any civilian friends and a lot of her coworkers weren’t the kindest after the news of their relationship dropped. Jokes on them though because after one too many glasses of wine at a gala it was learned that she, Jeanist, and surprisingly Snipe get along like a house on fire and no one knows peace again.

It is a backyard affair in the house that she and Oboro bought and he tends to the gardens on his time off as a stress relief thing. Izuku is the flower child looking completely adorable in their dress and flower crown even as they purposefully pelt their family members with flower petals because Oboro told them they could and Shouta definitely deserves it for some reason or another. Nemuri so the one that marries them as there would have been a fight trying to get her on one side of the wedding party over the other as while she might have been Oboro’s friend first her and Inko become like sisters over the years. There’s a lot of laughter and happy tears throughout the ceremony. Izuku is all but sobbing into Jeanist’s shoulder from the moment their mom gets to the altar because she looks so fucking happy. Their first kiss is with smiling lips and tears on both of their faces. Oboro immediately pulls back to grab Izuku like some sort of weird lion king scene because he did it. This is his family now.

The reception is a lot of terrible dancing and videos that get posted to social media that go viral because no one expects to see heroes act like normal fucking people/ what the hell is Lunch Rush doing that does not count as a dance but the ceremony is just for them.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Writer Asks!

Tagged by @stellarspecter! thanks for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

153! 142 of those are JatP, and I'm working on one that would be a really cool number 150... so maybe I gotta write 7 short ones first...

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

651,798. Since 2021. Yes I have a problem.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Julie and the Phantoms and The Bright Sessions almost exclusively at this point, but I also have Percy Jackson and Supernatural fics on Ao3. Back in the day, I wrote a ton of PJO on fanfiction.net and then a handful of fics in like 8 other fandoms.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

far from hurt is where healing occurs -- JatP, Rayvor Reconciliation, 276 kudos

a crack in the ceiling (trace it back to my heart) -- JatP, juke sickfic, 237 kudos

i was fine until it was time to feel -- JatP, alex sickfic, 230 kudos

as long as i am here (no one can hurt you) -- JatP, reggie sickfic (anyone seeing a trend here?), cowrite with someone iii no longer speak toooo, 203 kudos

say what you want (but it's hard when you're young)-- JatP, other alex sickfic, 187 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Often several months after I received them, but I always catch up eventually!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My latest! In which I give Mark Bryant a Better Life and Different Trauma!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My JatP Big Bang fic from last year! A lot of shit happens before we get to the happy part but it actually does end really nicely for everyone :)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I feel like I did... once... I do not remember what it was for or about and i'm pretty sure I deleted the comment. which is probably good in the long run that it happens rarely enough that i forget the details.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I occasionally write smut. I do not consider myself good at it. So I often don't post any. Closest I've got is the above linked mark bryant's different trauma fic and its like. five paragraphs in one scene.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I do! Haven't posted a ton, I don't think I have any on ao3, and a lot of what I call a crossover in my head and google docs is just a fandom crossed with ocs @joyandthephantoms and I made up and like to put places.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and thank god, I think that would destroy me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be really cool if anyone ever wants to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Quite a few. Gonna shout out time travel with @a-tomb-with-a-view and toxic besties with @weneedglitter

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

this is an impossible question to answer. Whichever one i'm currently thinking about at any given moment :)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

this is a trick question. there are WIPs i want to finish and i probably will because i'm stubborn, and there are WIPs i doubt i will finish but mostly because i don't want to.

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, character, Concepts and Images

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

description, exposition, action, setting. basically all the things you don't need in good fanfic which is why i like writing fanfic :)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

fine if the translation is really obvious from context, fine if in small doses where it wouldn't be suuuper annoying to google the translation. whole conversations i will inevitably skip, although i did read a really cool Captain America fic once where there was some German dialogue and on ao3 the paragraphs were hyperlinked so that you hovered over them and saw the translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson! my fanfiction.net accounts are still up, but don't look at them, they're not good /lh.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

not sure there's an easy answer to this! sometimes i write things just to write them and post them just to get them out of my google docs, and sometimes i write things cause the idea won't let me go, and i post them cause i'm really proud and want some validation from strangers (and friends!) on the internet. my favorite one is whichever one I'm most proud of in the moment, which is usually the one I just finished, but even the ones I feel don't hold up as well or that i could've written better, i'm still really proud of, cause i made a hat! This was fun! i haven't been active on this account for a while, but i liked getting back into the swing of things, so if anyone still looks at this blog and actually read this, feel free to send me an ask with more questions/comments about my fics! i always like talking about them :)

no-pressure tagging: @joyandthephantoms

[tleeaves]

Hi! I’m trying to befriend my favourite mutuals so I’m asking a bunch of questions to get to know you all better

What was/is your favourite subject in school? Were/are you good at it?

What country do you live in? What do you like/dislike about it?

Are you currently writing/planning an original story? If so, what is it about?

What genres of media do you usually consume? What books would you recommend to people?

What is your favourite poison?

what is your favourite method of murder (both to read about and what you would actually use)?

What patterns do you usually notice in the people that you hang out with?

Can I message you?

Hi, darling!! Love these questions, thank you so much for sending them through 🥺 Honoured to be considered a favourite mutual.

My favourite subject was absolutely English. It was my top subject when I graduated as well, and I was definitely good at it. I wasn't always though. I actually had trouble reading as a kid. I didn't even really like reading until I got to around 10 years old. And I had a few rough years in high school where no matter how hard I tried in English classes, I could have sworn two teachers in particular were out to give me a hard time for a couple years (to the point where I was nearly averaging on a D in their classes, whereas all other years I was a straight A student in English, including my final years, so the contrast is still weird to look back on, considering nothing substantial actually changed in my learning between those years).

Australia! I like the environment here, generally, not just in terms of vibes from folk but also nature. I do like that where I am in particular they seem to try and incorporate more greenery into built up areas. I dislike our education system deeply and the fact that geographically we're split off from much of the world.

Yes, I am! Both writing and planning (have done so much planning over the years, vaguely, went to write, and realised I needed an outline, and I'm still finishing that up so I can continue the writing part). It's about the sacrifices we make to protect what we care about, essentially. It's also what I would consider high fantasy (though it's technically a blend between high/historical fantasy and low fantasy). Also, horror and romance elements because it's not my work without a bit of horror and some romance at this point (sue me, this stuff goes hand in hand so well sometimes).

Genres of media: dark fantasy (so not outright horror but also too dark to be purely what you might just call fantasy), historical drama, aaand romance (but it's usually mixed in with something else because I struggle to read straight up romance). Books I recommend people are usually tailored to what I know of their interests. Will usually try to squeeze in something by V.E. Schwab though.

Ooh. Good question. Assuming you're talking about actual poison and not just a drink (drink: mocha) it would have to be mistletoe. It's not suuuper effective in small doses, I know, but hear me out: it's a hemiparasitic plant and there's been debates over whether it can be considered a carnivorous plant because of how it feeds off a host plant (tree). I can't remember whether it was argued that it could have been a passive or active trap, though I guess it doesn't really matter, because in the end it's really not carnivorous at all. Still! Toxic to consume. Vomiting and so on. Possible death etc.

Hmm, favourite method. I love poisonings, actually, because they're interesting to orchestrate in stories and can make for dramatic symptom reveals and realisations (and I've written them before too, but reading is just as fun). And, to be honest, I'm pretty shitty at writing other sorts of death scenes BUT oh you know what goes hard?? A good old fashioned stabbing where Character A leans into it and Character B to whisper one last thing -- usually something that holds a lot of weight. THAT is brilliant. I have one of those planned to write. Really excited for it.

People I hang out with are massive nerds. Okay, more seriously... I don't know. I hang out with a variety of people, because I also have a wide array of interests and so I tend to meld into different groups at a time. That's why I say nerds. I like to be around people who care a lot about Very Specific Things. Oh, well, they're also often neurodivergent, so there's that. I find it difficult to get along with people who are so chill about everything and give off the vibe that they have no personality and or passion.

Absolutely you can message me!!

[pink-pony-grrrl]

femcel loser complains about her friends

So basically last year my friend group had a huuuge fight. it used to be 10 of us but the fight split us up and now there's 4 of us. Me, Sophie, Aster and Noah are the ppl in mu current junior friend group. Sophie and Noah started dating literally on the first day of school this year. Ever since they started dating, sophie has stopped talking to me. Like not completely but they literally have no clue whats going on in my life rn. We used to be suuuper close and now we're js so distant and its almost painful to talk to them bc its so dry and our convos have 0 substance. Aster has had a crush on this one girl for like months and sophie didnt find out until yesterday bc they literally ignore aster and i at lunch and play fucking ROBLOX. Today aster was taking the APUSH exam nd wasnt at lunch. My mom works in the area and i asked her if she wanted to have lunch w me. We sat down at this small dominican restaurant and had lunch tg. It was quiet but not awkward. some kids from my sch were there and i literally could have not cared less. I went back inside the building w ten mins left and sat w sopha (sophie and noah). They were ignoring me and not talking to me and i felt so bad. they were playing roblox the entire time and didnt even ask me how i was. i dont see myself talking to either of them after highschool. ive tried talking and it literally didnt work. i have a group of senior friends and theyre the only friends i hang out w (minus my band and library friends) i hang w outside of school. theyre the only people who have acc cared ab me even if they do make me feel broke af. they acc are wondering how im doing and ho my life has been. siiiiigh i wish i went to sch my w spacehey friends instead. literally my junior friends dont care ab me. if i was prettier i think more people would care about me and not brush me off as some weirdo whos always listening to music. i wish i was normal and pretty i hate this!!!

[cyanlastride]

can i tell you a story? for my own good, not yours. you have no obligation to listen.

im warning you now, its an unpleasant one.

the summer before grade 10, i made the best choice of my life. i was feeling a bit lonely, and inspired by my dad to try playing D&D. finding myself lacking real-life friends -- it was the summer, you see, the most barren and socially isolating time of the year, beating even christmas break -- i took to Roll20, an online forum where people meet and start TTRPG groups, dnd5e being chief among them. now, i grew up very closely to the internet. club penguin, nexuiz/xonotic, planeshift, i grew up socializing with people online quite often. but internet forums, even as dull as reddit, werent really my thing. hell, i only got this tumblr account recently. so, making the spur of the moment decision to make a roll20 account and reply to an LFG for new players was really quite a leap for me. a complete shot in the dark.

but it paid off. we had a bit of a rocky start after our first GM ran off never to be seen again, but one of the players stepped up to be our new GM and we played almost every week for almost a year and a half. i forged a strong bond with both the players and the characters -- at the time, i didnt really distinguish between the two. we had some close calls, a lot of near misses, and my character even died once. our party had two paladins, and i was one of them, so resurrection wasnt too big of a deal. eventually, though, we bite off more than we could chew, and land in some pretty hot water. specifically, an underground church full of rats. how we ended up there and the mighty battle that took place are wonderful and thrilling stories for another day. we had to stop the session mid-battle, i dont remember why, but we picked it up the week after. when we came back, we were prepared to fight to the last. if either myself or the other paladin survived, we could resurrect the party with the diamonds on the iron band i had forged around my wrist. if any of the other party members survived, they could bring the bodies up to the surface and get help. we just had to win the fight.

now, being a new player playing pretty much a pre-gen'd paladin, i went the standard plate armour plus sword and board. this made my AC suuuper high, enough that enemies could only really hit me on a roll of 18+. also, if they rolled a nat 20 against me, i had a magic shield that would absorb some of the blow and actually heal myself and my allies for a couple turns. so the only way they can actually hurt me reliably is if they rolled 18 or 19. i was facing off against some random rogue that i didnt know and didnt care to know. if i landed one solid hit on this lady, i could smite her into oblivion. she was a goon, basically.

a goon that rolled three 19s in a row.

a goon that killed me, and any chance i had of saving my friends.

rolling an 18 or a 19 on a 20 sided die is 1/10. rolling three in a row is (1/10)^3, or 1/1000. one in a thousand. that sounds small, right?

fate and chance make mockeries of our lives more often than anyone cares to admit.

we kept playing after that, made new characters, but the loss was real. that probably sounds stupid, especially to people that have had real people close to them die, but to me, my closest friends of the past year were gone because of a stupid chance.

ive taken small risks more seriously since then. i dont drive, and i stare drivers in the eye when i cross the street. im not scared of dying, but i want to see it coming.

when covid started, i spent a lot of time staring death in the face.

not my own death. i was/am unlikely to die from covid. i barely even go outside enough to be at risk of catching a cold. im young, and im healthy.

my parents are older, and less healthy. my mom is a highschool teacher.

ive spent the last 4 years thinking every so often about what i would do if they died. ive treated it as a real possibility that something could happen to them. ive been mentally preparing myself. even now that we're mostly out of the covid danger zone, that preparation remains.

i never considered what might happen if only one of them fell ill. when my dad messaged me that my mom was going into emergency surgery, i could handle that. when my mom was moved into the ICU, i was glad. she is getting the care she needs from experts and professionals, and shes doing okay.

when we get the call that my dad's father, who lives in a resthome in another city, hasnt been seen in two days and that the ambulance just drove away without loading anyone in the back, i can handle that. to be honest i really didnt know my pappa that well.

when my dad, my stoic old dad, breaks into tears after starting the sentence "they can't both die..."

thats harder.

one in a thousand.

its not as small as you think it is.

thank you for listening. my mom, my dad, myself, we're going to be okay.