#doubles unspecified

[fictivecanoncalls]

Hey, I'm a fictive of Raven from Teen Titans. I'm looking for any of my old teammates, but especially Beast Boy and Starfire. Our body is an adult, we're 26. Please no minors. If you interact with this, I'll see it.

Calling all DC/Teen Titans fictives!

[technicalknockout]

LITERALLY FILLED OUT 2989947986 PAPER FORMS SO I CAN SKIP SCHOOL FOR A WEEK AND GO ON A FAMILY TRIP BUT MY UTERUS SAID NO. MY RAGE IS IMMEASURABLE

[arolesbianism]

Y'know now that I'm seeing a small handful of ppl actually giving a shit abt oni lore it's making it so much harder to not become a nerd emoji every five seconds anytime I see someone talk abt oni because I forget that every source of oni information is comically outdated

[talaok]

Giving up

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you

Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.

a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)

Part 1

"did you do something to your hair?"

Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.

"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"

His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh

"someone's in a good mood today"

"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"

Tommy's interest was only piqued more.

there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...

something was definitely going on.

"Where are you going?"

Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare

"none of your business"

Oh he knew what was going on...

"Who is she?"

"Tommy-"

"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"

Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.

He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.

"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"

But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.

"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"

What in the actual fuck?

Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.

"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak

"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur

"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"

"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"

"Tommy I know she's young bu-"

"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"

__ __

"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"

You smiled at his words, shaking your head

"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,

He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.

"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.

"Uhm- sure"

His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.

Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.

Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.

You watched him as he sipped on the glass.

"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"

He damn near choked.

Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.

He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"

"And?"

You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face

pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes

"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"

Oh for fuck's sake

"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.

"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"

This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.

"ok"

__ __ __

As it turns out, in many different ways.

Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?

He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-

or so you thought.

"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips

"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"

He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.

What a tease

__ __ __

"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"

For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.

You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...

It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.

"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,

He held his breath for a moment

"'s nothing babygirl"

"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"

"In your... bedroom?"

"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.

Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.

You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.

And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.

The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.

He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.

"Everything seems right"

"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"

He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.

"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.

He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.

The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"

"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"

You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.

"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-

He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.

"would you like to have sex with me or not?"

You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat

"this- this ain't really fair sugar"

A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"

Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.

"You're y-young baby-"

Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.

"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"

He cursed under his breath

"I just... I don't understand"

A breathy laugh escaped you

"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"

That earned you a chuckle

"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"

You smiled as you looked up at him,

you'd never met a man so sweet

"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"

Fucking damn it

How could he ever say no after that?

With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...

"So?"

He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.

"yes"

That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.

yes

Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.

His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.

A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.

He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,

making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-

and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.

You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.

You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.

Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.

Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.

He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.

You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

"take off your clothes"

You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.

The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.

You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.

"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.

"What?" you laughed

"I-I don't even know"

You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.

He was already addicted.

In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-

His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.

He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.

"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"

Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.

"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"

"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"

You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.

"Fuck"

"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"

Jesus fuck

Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.

You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.

He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.

Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.

Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths

"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"

His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.

"you ok?"

His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.

"Joel?"

He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.

"d-don't move"

You smiled as you promised "I won't"

God this was fucking embarrassing.

He'd spent three days training.

And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.

He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.

He was so fucked

"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"

"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"

Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.

"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"

he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.

"take all the time you need"

And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.

He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.

There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.

Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.

"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized

You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence

"You look..."

Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.

"you're beautiful"

Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.

"so are you, Joel"

And that was that.

His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.

A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.

Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined

The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.

He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.

"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.

You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.

"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.

"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.

the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.

The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.

Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman,

You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.

His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.

Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.

Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit

"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"

You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming

"Inside"

It wasn't even a question

"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"

"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"

Good Christ and heaven

"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"

You were already seeing stars as he spoke

"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"

A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.

You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.

He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-

His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,

until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.

He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.

A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"

And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.

@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu

[webbedphantom]

"I did-??"

You were rather exhausted when the scores were posted... And during the test as well.

"Okay, well surely it can't be that bad-"

You got a B-

"... oh God."

"I-I swear I studied. I took notes during the lectures, I used your notes to get up to speed on the uh... classes I missed. And I would've done more but-"

But you were up lizard hunting until six in the morning that weekend-

"... yeah, you're probably tired of hearing the same old excuse."

"You dropped a grade level on the last exams."

[cosmicalily]

'is it casual now?' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author’s note: ugh i’ve been reminiscing on all the boys and girls i’ve been knee deep in the passenger seat with (emotionally and physically) and thought omg i should share my angst with all of you!! although this is a lot more lighthearted, i’d consider it more so the mutual crushes before a relationship stage rather than a toxic situationship but take it as you’d like it! warnings: unspecified relationships/ situationships

casual…with chris

letting you sleep on his shoulder while he works in the studio. calling you at night and staying on the line until you’re asleep. driving you anywhere and everywhere because it’s “on the way” even when it isn’t. calling you ‘baby’, ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’ more than your own name. 

casual…with minho

buying groceries for the two of you without prompt. always cooking a double serve of dinner so you have something to eat. insane jealousy whenever anyone breathes near you. his hand on your thigh during drives. a photo of you and his cats as his phone wallpaper.

casual…with changbin

buying you presents for any and every occasion. sweaty, proud hugs after you finish a particularly difficult set at the gym. never ever letting you pay whenever you go out. constantly talking about you to his friends. 

casual…with hyunjin

having not had a girlfriend since meeting you. resting his head on your lap when he’s sleepy. telling you how beautiful he thinks you are every hour of the day. having a sketchbook filled with portraits of you, and a folder filled with candids. 

casual…with jisung

snuggles and tangled limbs under blankets while watching movies. spontaneous evening outings. making cd mixtapes for you of songs that remind him of you. drunk confessions and makeouts followed by sober apologies. 

casual…with felix

calling you ‘his girl’, even if you aren’t officially his yet. sitting on his lap while he games, builds keyboards or scrolls on his phone. reposting love tiktoks that include suspiciously accurate descriptions of you. playing with and braiding each other’s hair.

casual…with seungmin

letting you take over the aux when he’s driving. wearing his hoodies more than your own. playful cuddles, tickles and cheek kisses. asking him to sing for you over the phone at midnight. prolonged eye contact. knowing your coffee order by heart and bringing it to you each morning. 

casual…with jeongin

lingering touches to your waist, hips and sides. letting you borrow anything and everything from his closet. catching him staring at you in the mirror as you get ready. indirectly confessing by writing a love song about you on your birthday.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff - send an ask, reply or dm to be added!

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[igbylicious]

DOM / SUB ATEEZ HARD THOUGHTS

@wooyoungisbaby Isak asked abt dom / sub thoughts for the guys, and my rambling got out of hand. as it always does lol. self-control? we don’t know her

(ik you suggested to do this for the whiway au but! then i wouldn’t be able to talk abt sub Yunho :( & i can’t not talk abt sub Yunho :((( so these are just general thoughts abt the guys hehe~ ฅV●ᴥ●Vฅ)

sooooooo i am a huge switch-teez enthusiast; and this is essentially a bullet-point dissertation w/ a selection of d/s thoughts for each of the guys that make me go particularly 👀 they’re not meant to be speculation abt the guys’ preferences, just things that are very easy for me to imagine & that i think would be very very hot of them (｡◝‿◜｡)

warnings: dom / sub themes obv. also mentions of; penetrative sex, overstimulation, oral, ass eating, mommy kink, lingerie (on Hwa), riding crop, strap-on, DP in unspecified holes, dacryphilia, shibari / bondage, premature ejaculation, hair-pulling, drooling, sadism, corruption kink, brat taming, sugar daddy vibes, jewelry on reader, hand kink, implied choking, fingering (again unspecified holes), edging, puppy play, role play (including cnc for Yunho but no in-depth details), cockwarming, marking / bruises, blindfolds, pain kink, praise kink, dry humping, degradation kink, orgasm denial, dirty talk, biting, hair pulling, face sitting

a/n: gender neutral reader. genitalia are mentioned once w/ options. implied double anal penetration in absence of a puss, implied pegging in absence of a cock. there is a brief mention that reader could wear heels if they wanted for a scenario.

also my Yunho bias shows hard x_x i tried to keep the lengths under control but i just let myself go for his and i shall not apologise for it asdskjdasjk

⩥ SEONGHWA

Dom:

whether he is soft & gentle or hard & mean, Seonghwa is always elegant

even with sweat dripping off his nose from the exertion of fucking into you, even with his lower face covered in slick from eating pussy or cum dribbling down his chin from sucking dick, he is the most graceful dom to ever walk this earth

his long tongue is a blessing but his technique and dedication are divinity

you WILL get overstimulated

yes i have the mommy Seonghwa brainrot. yes i like imagining him in lingerie and a corset and make-up and heels while he’s in utter and complete control

to finish the look; riding crop??? riding crop.

also idk why but the thought of Hwa with a strap-on makes me so fucking dizzy. this man fucking you w/ two cocks at once

his strap would be so sleek and elegant too just like him

matches his favourite lingerie probably; Hwa is dedicated to the aesthetics

speaking of aesthetics; shibari (that’s it that’s the tweet)

saccharine sweet if you earn it

Sub:

fucking pathetic sloppy mess as a sub

listen i just really love the hc that Seonghwa is super sensitive and might cum prematurely asdskjasdjkdaskj

will prob cum from just being manhandled into giving head if he can get even just a lil friction going somewhere 👀 as a sub he likes to get sloppy, loves having his hair pulled

(ass, cock or pussy, this man gets drunk on it)

like if you want to do a long scene together; it’s so easy to just get a quick orgasm out of him and then have a real fucking hyper-sensitive Seonghwa at your disposal for the remainder of the night uwu

tie him up for maximum effect

cries so easily 🥺

can’t hide a thing, every ounce of pleasure shows on his face like an open book

hiccups and sobs and bite-swollen lips bc he keeps gnawing at his bottom lip, so so easily overwhelmed

…again; lingerie. put him in thigh-highs and knead at the soft flesh and cover those thighs all over w/ bites and hickeys

⩥ HONGJOONG

Dom:

listen…………we all know that grin………………………………………

what kind of world do we live in if our captain is not at least a tiny bit of a sadist??

lives to hear you beg

degradation as praise? praise as degradation? the line between being praised and being demeaned is soooo fucking razor-thin w/ this man

100% on purpose he likes it when you can’t tell for sure

(tho he is super cognisant of your state of mind. if he sees the doubt is genuinely getting to you, you’re getting a dose of pure unmistakable praise to settle you down)

he’ll happily tame a brat but he looooves ruining a sub who is already pliant for him. just to be mean.

i’m all aboard the Hongjoong corruption kink agenda

not even necessarily in a ‘you are inexperienced’ way (tho he can work w/ that 👀)

but watching you go from all immaculate and put-together to a depraved begging mess

yep

that does it for him

likes giving you jewelry to wear during sex. delicate body-chains and pretty necklaces that bounce when he fucks you. lowkey sugar daddy vibes; he loves seeing you decked out, but he esp loves seeing you decked out in things he bought you

Sub:

so while i love the image of Hongjoong offering himself up on a silver platter to you w/ a crooked grin; tbh i feel like he has potential to be a sub who outbrats even Wooyoung if he is In A Mood

the SASS on this man!!!

but once you break that snarky attitude? dear god the whines coming out of him ♨_♨

(listen do not be surprised if i use some variation of the word ‘whiny’ in every single sub section bc i know what i like and i am shameless abt it asdkjasdj)

noisy squirmy boi

on his elbows and knees, biting at the sheets as he gets fucked hard from behind, going slack-jawed and drooling on the bed as you wreck him into a stupor

fucked into complete physical exhaustion in the direct aftermath — but let him have a quick nap and his energy is like… he might still be tired but he’s also feeling so replenished? esp mentally

if he’s recently had a lot of on his mind then you might be treated to deep philosophical musings during the aftercare abt the world, the universe, life and everything

⩥ YUNHO

Dom:

i get pulled so hard into two directions w/ this man pls it’s not funny anymore i need HELP

he’s both the softest vanilla and the hardest freakiest dom out of the bunch to me, he's got my brain spinning

listen yall we all know how willingly Yunho indulges the fandom’s massive hard-on for his hands, imagine what he’ll do if he’s your partner ♨_♨

he gets off on how much you get off on having his hands around your neck

also unless i hallucinated that whole thing; Yunho has said he likes hearing atiny whine his name (sir?!?!?!?) so I'm gonna say he's a tease even when he's soft with you

takes you to the brink with those long fingers over and over again, pretends the edging is by accident

presses sweet kisses on your forehead or your tummy or your thighs as he laughs softly at your whining but points out he needs to get you prepped first for what he's packing; he just doesn't want to hurt you uwu

whether it is sincere sweetness or w/ an edge of mocking, depends entirely on his mood

(fake sweet Yunho my beloved ;;)

you're not fooled by his shenanigans but there's little you can do except gasp and squirm under him as his fingers press against your sweet spot again

still he’ll praise you every step of the way, and the payoff is more than worth it, he always makes sure of that

ok so the next thing isn’t really a dom / sub thing but it’s going somewhere that is, pls hear me out;

Yunho is totally up for some playful rp; he’ll do cheesy porn set-ups w/ you except he cannot keep a straight face through them to save his life lol. very lighthearted silly giggly sex that still makes your toes curl

he can keep a straight face through a very different type of role play; cnc

it’s not uncommon for Yunho to try and make you laugh during sex if a moment presents itself — but here he fully sinks into the role and there won’t be any light-heartedness until the aftercare,

and then you’ll be giggling twice as much as usual, once the timing is right ;;

the aftercare giggles are for Yunho’s benefit too; he needs to make and see you smile & laugh to feel like he’s fully come back into himself. to regain the right emotional equilibrium after taking on such an intense role

then he’s your sweet smiley golden retriever again ;;

might just fuck you again if you both have the energy, sweet and soft and slow this time ♡

Sub:

OKAY SO FIRST THINGS FIRST i gotta bring up that video in which Seonghwa and Wooyoung wear heels for a shoot and they joke around abt their heights — but then Yunho turns to the camera and whispers he’d like to be small; bc he’d be cute!!!

he’s always been pocket-sized in spirit to me so that had me by the throat asdkjasdkjd

so yeah i like to think he enjoys feeling small as a sub! not in a demeaning way, not even in a physical way necessarily!

(tho to be down on his knees in front of a dom who is either pretty tall or wearing heels (or both) does make him feel fantastically fuzzy)

no, it’s more like a cute lil pup who’s getting spoiled bc he’s a good boy uwu

(actual petplay optional~ ฅV●ᴥ●Vฅ)

love a sub Yunho who’s soft and well-behaved

and he wants to be! he wants to be a good boy and get pampered by his dom!! but sometimes his big golden retriever energy gets the better of him oop

(the video clip of a literal child scolding Yunho because “this hyung just won’t listen to me” lives in my head rent-free.)

and Yunho just can't always fight his brain when it sends him a fun impulse askdjdaskjsd

but it only takes gentle steering to get him back on track; like i said, he wants to be well-behaved for you 🥺

ok but to circle back to the puppy play

Yunho who loves being your good boy and is so playful and sweet — but he obediently lets you take your time to work him up and get him desperate

big brown eyes shimmering at you as you scratch him behind the ears while stroking his big hard cock

begging you to let him fuck you, to just let him inside you

so you sit in his lap and cockwarm him but you can tell it’s not enough, gets teary-eyed and he bites his lip to stop himself from whining bc you’re already giving him so much and he wants to be good

so you have mercy on him and let him fuck you from behind — if he makes you cum first

now there’s a demand Yunho can work with

usually he’s a hands-on guy but in puppy mode he prefers using his mouth and tongue. so he’s snugly between your thighs, getting himself messy. constant eye-contact as he peeks up at you, massaging your thighs and maybe even leaving a bite if he’s feeling cheeky — but he knows better than to tease too much

he is so far gone by the time he’s finally allowed to fuck you that he can’t do anything but mindlessly rut until he cums hard, gasping and shaking

still he makes sure not to collapse on top of you, instead slides off to the side and pulls you into his arms for a snuggle 🥺

(see Isak i wasn’t kidding abt whipping up a 1k essay just for Yunho alone! lol oop)

⩥ YEOSANG

Dom:

so tbh it’s much easier for me to picture Yeosang as a sub, but i do have this very specific idea for him that i can’t get out of my head of like

curiosity-driven dom Yeosang

maybe he was a lil shy at first, cautiously exploring your body and testing your reactions, but his eyes just lit up with intrigue when you let out a loud moan he didn't expect

that moment kick-starts it all, with him becoming bolder and bolder to seek out any other responses to his touch

do you moan when he kisses you here? do you gasp at a bite there? squirm when he pinches here?

and he never grows satisfied as he maps out your responses to pleasure — and pain, if you are so inclined

like

Yeosang stumbles into the whole pain play thing purely by accident but it’s barely even abt the sadism for him? if that makes sense?? it’s all about you and your arousal and the wide range of pleasure he can draw from you

he just wants to know

there’s always this sense of wonder abt him and his sparkling eyes when he’s playing w/ you

he probably gets even more experimental as time passes, actively on the look-out for new things he can try out

you’ll just be having a quiet evening and Yeosang comes up to you w/ that adorable small smile that on a surface level is full of innocence

but no he’s cutely excited to show you some obscure toy he found online and wants to know if you’re onboard ^^

Sub:

so vocal (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

shy but has a reeeaaaally hard time holding himself back if he’s overwhelmed

seriously so so noisy w/ lil whimpers and moans and quiet hitches of his breath. takes a bit for him to truly get loud, but dear god you’re still treated to a goddamn symphonic masterpiece of delectable noises

speaking of getting him loud 👀

if Yeosang trusts you but there’s some last remnant of shyness that he needs to shake off

he loves getting blindfolded

not seeing anything makes it easier for him to get lost in the pleasure; if nothing else exists in the world except you and your touch, he has nothing to be self-conscious of

that’s where he can get loud

can’t sit or lay still if you’re worshiping that gorgeous body or giving head; you’re gonna have to hold him down to stop his fidgety squirming uwu

gets flushed easily too

bruises like a peach and tho he gets shy abt marks in visible places, he lowkey loves it when you treat his chest like a blank canvas

pls gently brush his hair back & give his birth mark a lil peck during the aftercare okay? 🥺

⩥ SAN

Dom:

is it cheeky to say “just read whichever way”? it is?? okay alright lol

no but okay this man is dripping w/ care & devotion i want him SIMPING!!!

he LIVES for the praise and the validation, all it takes is a lil bit of encouragement and positive enforcement; and he may be the dom but you’ve still got him wrapped around your finger

while he can be the softest of soft service doms, it doesn’t take much to get San a lil rougher w/ you; he gets amped up easily and loves using his strength to your advantage

but you want him to be a mean dom? you can get him there but you’ll have to WORK for it by riling him the fuck up w/ some attitude bc this man’s natural instincts are to just please you all through the night (´︶｀)

San also loves to surprise-pin you against the wall. there’s just smth abt the spontaneity and passion of the moment that gets him going hard

depending on his mood he could either fuck you right then and there, or ravish you only to pull away w/ a smug, self-satisfied grin at how wrecked you are from just making out and a bit of dry-humping

(he’ll be back. San is too horned up to not finish the job)

Sub:

MAKE! HIM!! WHIMPER!!! AND CRY!!!!!!!

no but seriously a flushed Sannie pouting up at you when you deny him again 🥺

just the thought of him as like

a very very soft sub who yearns to get fucking wrecked by you 🥺

make him whine and writhe until he can’t handle it anymore and tears begin to streak down his cheeks

body worship melts this man into a fucking puddle and yes i am also talking abt tittie appreciation here

he always wants to be so strong and reliable for others but here in your care is where he can let all of that go 🥺 and just break down until you put him together again 🥺

SO MUCH CUDDLING IN THE AFTERCARE

YOU COULDN’T GET OUT OF HIS ARMS IF YOU TRIED

PLS DON’T TRY; JUST LOVINGLY STROKE HIS HAIR AND WHISPER SWEET PRAISES AT HIM 🥺🥺🥺

⩥ MINGI

Dom:

okay so i also get pulled so hard into two very different directions when it comes to dom Mingi askjasdjkdsa

one is Mingi the needy mess

like

maybe he doesn’t even mean to dom you but he’s so desperate for it he just can’t wait and ends up overwhelming you and it’s lowkey kinda clumsy but very sweet and oh god he just wants you so so bad 🥺

BUT THEN THERE IS

Mingi w/ his damn cocky on-stage energy?? and he’s intense and confident and knows what he wants??? (you, ruined)

like idk either way i have many feelings abt dom Mingi being super intense and he will overwhelm you either way, either by accident or by design

just strap in tight bc he wants to hear you ♨_♨

very vocal himself too. i like the thought of him spewing filth at you first but very quickly losing the capacity for any coherent dirty talk

still

you will hear him too OOF

high & whiny or low & raspy? y e s

Sub:

PRINCESS MINGIIIIIII!!!! (♡°▽°♡)

spoil him give him whatever the hell his heart desires!!!!!! again a NOISY MESS!!! tears up easily but doesn’t like to admit he’s crying uwu

gets even more discombobulated than as a dom hehe~

however

much like his buddy Yunho, i don't think Mingi often deliberately tries to misbehave

but he can get a bit sulky sometimes if he feels neglected

or, on the other side of the spectrum, just a touch too confident if he’s gotten too used to you giving him exactly what he wants and starts treating it as a given, or makes lil jokes abt it

it edges against that cockiness again but tbh it’s also lowkey endearing on him as a sub; his blind faith in your devotion to his pleasure

but you may choose to give him a lil reminder of who is actually in charge ♡ denying him a few times until he’s whining and babbling incoherently at you should do the trick perfectly ♡♡♡

don’t be too mean abt it tho :( remember he’s a princess :(((

⩥ WOOYOUNG

Dom:

OKAY SO YES ISAK I’M FULLY W/ YOU ON THE BRAT THING

like i said truly my favourite flavour of dom Wooyoung is a fucking tease of a menace who isn’t so much a dom as a brat who hasn’t been tamed yet

if he’s domming you and you’re in the mood to turn the tables? this man’s switch is flipped in an INSTANT you just gotta yank his hair hard and spew out some filthy degradation and he’s putty in your hands

brace yourself if he’s got you tied up tho lol. he is gonna enjoy himself :3

honestly he should change his home-address bc this man lives w/ his face between your thighs. gets so fucking drunk on you but never so much that he ever stops his teasing

a true edging enthusiast

hope you like bite-marks on your skin lol

and yet…

and yet i have a big soft spot for soft dom Woo too 🥺

who takes care of you after you’ve had a long, frustrating day 🥺

i feel like he could bigtime spoil and pamper his partners if he feels they really need it 🥺 he might still tease you a lil but it’s only to get you out of your head, maybe even just to make you laugh 🥺

Sub:

love a sub Wooyoung who balances a praise and a degradation kink like he’s walking a tightrope uwu

like we all talk abt his degradation kink bc of course we do!! with good reason!!! but have you seen his giggles and smiles when the other members compliment him???

sometimes he doesn’t even know himself what he’s in the mood for today — or so he tells himself. any bratty urges will make themselves known real damn obvious within mere seconds lol

instigator to the max

initiates phone sex w/ you and then hangs up on you just before it Gets Good just to rile you up (this may be a semi-spoiler 👀)

but he loves the combo special where he brats out to his heart’s content first, gets humiliated and/or punished for his trouble, but oh boy then his mood turns and he eats it UP to get praised for being such a good boy now (´꒳`∗)

will beg you to ride his face

(he’ll have you riding his face as a dom too, he just won’t be begging 👀)

⩥ JONGHO

Dom:

so i actually love love love gentle soft dom Jongho 🥺 but i decided to focus on the flip side for this post

hard dom Jongho who has a mean streak and looooooves to tease the fuck out of you. he doesn’t even need to verbally degrade you (tho he might); you hear his cocky chuckle and know exactly what a pathetic mess he thinks you are for him

but gets soft and SUPER ADORABLE in the aftercare??? just imagine this man fucking you within an inch of your life and then he cleans you up after

and gives you that sweet gummy smile while he’s literally wiping his cum off your body w/ a warm cloth???

giggles when you exhaustedly call him a menace or praise him?????

god i just perished

he loves playing it nonchalant too tho. having you between his legs sucking him off, looking down at your teary eyes and swollen lips bobbing up and down his fat cock like he dgaf

don’t let him fool you — watch for how tightly his hands are clenched into fists

Sub:

just wanna spoil & baby him :( def feel Jongho has to be ‘in the mood’ to sub, but then pls just be so soft with him and take care of him and make him feel good :(

he’d generally be a very soft, well-behaved sub;

he feels that if subbing is the role he’s taking on, then submissiveness is the role he’s taking on, youknow it’s almost matter-of-factly for him

THAT BEING SAID; Jongho is still Jongho and won’t keep his mouth shut if he feels you’re doing or saying smth that deserves to be teased abt or made fun of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

your response needs to be a lil calculated;

he doesn’t really enjoy being outright punished or treated as a brat too much. prob feels it’s undignified lol

…unless he’s already super far gone 👀

so the secret here is to pretend you’re letting his teasing slide — until he’s at the fucking brink and then he’ll accept you laying on a lil bit of punishment as payback 👀

he’s not super loud in bed but you’ll get the prettiest lil breathy gasps and moans out of him asjksdjkdsajkdajs

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Work in Progress

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (age gap though ages are unspecified)

Words: 1.5k

No warnings, just two cuties who need to fall in love already; a fluffy and flirty good time

Masterlist

Sunlight filters through the windows of a modest workshop in Jackson, illuminating the clutter of tools and half-finished projects. The room is warm and inviting, with the smell of wood and metal lingering in the air.

Joel Miller is focused on a workbench, his broad shoulders hunched as he concentrates on fixing a small wooden chair. His hands are deft and steady, moving with practiced ease. Every now and then, he mutters to himself, his deep, gravelly voice a soothing background hum.

You are nearby, organizing screws and handing him tools when he needs them, trying to keep up with Joel’s quick pace. Despite the mundane task, you can’t help but be captivated by the way he moves, each gesture so deliberate, a precise balance between delicate and powerful.

You accidentally knock over a can of nails, which scatter across the floor with a clatter.

"Sorry," you squeak, embarrassed as you crouch down to pick them up, but Joel’s voice suddenly cuts through the noise.

"Don’t worry about it, I’ll grab ‘em," He offers.

Joel kneels beside you, his presence close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His hands, rough but gentle, brush against yours as he gathers the nails. The accidental touch sends a flutter through your chest, and you try to suppress a blush.

"Thanks, Joel. I should’ve been more careful."

"Happens to the best of us," he says easily, comforting.

His smile is so disarmingly charming that it makes you forget what you were doing for a moment. You fumble with the nails in your hands, trying to avoid meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so," you laugh nervously.

Joel stands up, handing you the collected nails. His fingers brush yours again, sending a rush of warmth through you. You quickly pull your hand away, but not before you feel your cheeks flush.

Joel’s gaze lingers on you, trying to decipher what has you so skittish today. He resumes his work, but his casual demeanor makes him more endearing.

"You’re doin’ good, you know," he reassures you, wanting to ease whatever might be worrying you. "Not easy work, but you’re stickin’ with it. Youve learned a lot these last few weeks."

You smile, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. His praise, so simple yet sincere, makes your heart race. You focus on your task, trying to steady your hands.

Flustered, you respond, "Just trying to keep up with you."

Joel chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through the room. It’s impossible not to be drawn to the warmth of his voice.

"No need, you’re doin’ just fine."

As you continue working, Joel inadvertently keeps charming you with every casual comment or gesture, completely oblivious to his effect on you. He leans in close to demonstrate something, his breath warm against your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

At one point, Joel hands you a tool with a lingering touch, and you nearly drop it, your hands shaking slightly.

"Thanks. I think I’ve got it now."

"You sure ‘bout that? Might need to double-check," he jokes.

His playful tone and the warmth of his gaze make your heart pound even harder. You nod, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, I think I’m good."

Joel’s eyes soften, and he gives you a reassuring smile before returning to his work. Despite the focus on the project, the air between you remains charged with something that Joel seems blissfully unaware of.

As the hours pass, the two of you work seamlessly together, the occasional brush of your hands or shared laughter making the task seem almost like a dance. The project becomes secondary to the unspoken connection that grows between you, a testament to the unexpected and delightful charm that Joel Miller brings into your life.

Later in the day Joel is adjusting the legs of a wooden table, his brow furrowed in concentration. You’re sitting cross-legged on a nearby stool, sanding a piece of wood with careful precision.

"Careful with that sander," he instructs thoughtfully, "Don’t wanna end up with splinters in your fingers."

"Got it. Thanks for the tip," you say as you adjust your hold and try soft, even strokes.

“Good girl,” he praises, “just like that.”

You damn near fall out the chair at that. Cursing under your breath you try to ignore the way something pulses between your thighs. Head out of the gutter, you think to yourself.

Joel’s gaze occasionally drifts to you, his attention seemingly split between his work and the subtle way you react to his presence. There’s a moment of quiet as you both focus on the tasks at hand, the soft hum of the sander and the occasional clink of tools the only sounds in the room.

Then, as Joel reaches for a tool on a high shelf, his arm accidentally brushes against yours. You freeze, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through you. You try to mask your reaction, but your hand trembles slightly as you place the sander down.

Joel’s eyes narrow slightly, confused before a flicker of realization crosses his face. He watches you, noting the way you quickly look away, your cheeks flushed pink. There’s a moment of introspection as he connects the dots.

He may be old and, as Ellie likes to remind him, blind as a bat sometimes, but he ain't dumb.

"You alright, honey?" he asks in a syrupy drawl that has heat blooming in your stomach.

"Yeah, fine. Totally fine," you say, trying to play it cool but the slight tremor in your voice gives you away.

Joel straightens up, his gaze softening as he observes you more closely. There’s a mix of curiosity and tenderness in his eyes. He sets the tool down and moves closer, his demeanor shifting to something more considerate.

Joel's voice is lower than earlier when he says," You know, I’ve been watchin’ you blushin’ and fidgetin’ all day. Figured I might’ve done somethin’ to upset ya." He watches you out of the corner of his eye, gauging your response and trying to hide his knowing expression.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and a little embarrassed. The sincerity in his voice makes your heart race even faster. You hesitate, then shake your head slightly.

"It’s not that" you begin softly, "It’s just... I guess I get a little nervous around you."

Joel’s brow furrows, but then a slow, almost shy smile spreads across his face. He leans against the workbench, his eyes twinkling with an amused, gentle light.

His tone turns playful, "Nervous? Me? Didn’t think I was that intimidatin’."

It makes sense now. The way you stutter when he speaks to you, the way your eyes look everywhere in the room except for at him, except for when he catches you staring when you don't think he's looking.

The realization makes him both flattered and a bit self-conscious. The idea that someone as kind and sweet as you could feel this way about him strikes a chord. Not to mention the couple decades he has on you. He'd all but convinced himself there was no way you would be attracted to him. Not you with your pretty face and soft features, much too delicate for someone like himself.

He rubs the back of his neck where his greying hair curls around the collar of his jacket, his voice taking on a more tender tone.

"Well, if it helps any, I reckon you’re makin’ me a bit nervous too."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. The vulnerability in his admission, combined with the warmth of his smile, makes you melt.

"Really?"

Bashfully he confesses. "Yeah, really. Ain’t used to bein’ on the other end of this kinda thing."

Joel’s admission brings a newfound ease to the room. The tension melts away, replaced by a shared understanding and an unspoken connection that feels both thrilling and comforting.

You should feel embarrassed knowing you've been found out. It must have been painfully obvious, but he quickly puts you at ease.

Joel looks at you with a soft smile and a rosy tint to his cheeks, "Well, since we’re both nervous wrecks now, how ‘bout we take a break? Don't want to slip up and hammer a nail into my palm. Maybe grab a bite or somethin’. Could use a change of pace."

You nod eagerly, the idea of spending more time with him outside the workshop making your heart leap, something you'd been dreaming of since the first day you'd spent with him.

"I’d like that."

As you both head toward the door, the earlier nervousness has transformed into a hopeful, excited energy. Joel glances back at you, his smile genuine and full of affection. There’s a new, unspoken understanding between you, a gentle acknowledgment of the connection that has formed in the warmth of the workshop.

He holds the door open for you, and this time you don't shy away from his body in the doorway. Your back brushes his chest as you duck under his arm, and above you, a smile pulls the edge of his lips, happy that it turns out you weren't scared of him all this time.

And as the two of you step out into the fading afternoon light, the world beyond the workshop seems just a little brighter, filled with the promise of something new and wonderful.

[toxicanonymity]

My dearest toxic, I would simply do anything for a NW blurb. On top of the election I'm having one of the worst weeks I've had in awhile tbh. I saw you were doing blurbs/requests and figured I would throw my hat into the ring 🙃 as always, you're the best and deserve all the love and accolades 🖤

tired

JOEL x READER | 1k | NIGHT WALKS AU

NOTES: I’m so sorry for your week, bestie. Ty for your kind words. I hope he can help some of y'all a little bit. Love you 🖤 Y'all don't have to know Night Walks, but if you care about the timeline: After Menace, before Late Night Dip.

WARNINGS: 18+ blog. Unspecified source of angst, crying, comfort, soft but it also gets a little horny.

When you got home, your throat was sore from trying not to cry. You put on your PJs, went outside, and unscrewed the floodlight to be in the dark. Seated on a cheap plastic chair, you looked at the joint and lighter in your hand and didn’t even have the energy. You set them down, bent forward, and buried your face in your hands. Warm tears coated your fingers. Your throat untied itself, your chest opened up, and, physically at least, you felt some relief.

Then a light turned on in an upstairs window. Worried that you were louder than you realized, you got up to take a walk so you wouldn’t have to talk about it.

The thing was, you didn’t really have the energy to walk either. You shuffled along, until you got to the pool. It was as good a place as any to stop. The frogs and crickets made it a comfortable silence. You stood outside the fence with your forearms resting on top of it, doubled over.

By the time a twig snapped behind you, you must have been ugly crying.

Your skin prickled until his smooth, deep voice sliced through the tension. “Wanna talk about it?”

When you didn’t answer, you heard and felt him come closer. Joel was like a furnace, and the heat reached you without contact. When you didn’t answer him, he joined you against the fence, both of you looking toward the pool. His hand was resting a few inches away from your elbow.

“Hmm?” He prodded.

You shook your head, sniffled, and dabbed your eyes. “You wouldn’t get it,” you told him.

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I still got ears.”

“I’m okay,” you lied.

He answered, “Don’t have to be,” then laid his big, warm hand on your back and it brought a crescendo of emotion. Grief, gratefulness for him, and guilt for selling him short. He was more than a sleaze, he just didn’t tend to show it.

He rubbed your back as you took ragged breaths and tried to stop, then he got closer.

“It’s not just–it’s everything,” you sniffled. “It’s a lot.”

He kept rubbing slow circles on your back for a minute. Then, with a lighter tone, he offered,

“Who do I gotta fight?”

“You don’t seem like the fighting type,” you replied, then finally looked at him.

“I can be,” he cocked an eyebrow, and faced you with one hand still on your back. Your eyes settled on his strong pecs and biceps stretching his tee. And yeah, he could’ve been a fighter for all you knew. He could for sure fuck someone up. The small tattoos you saw in the shower crossed your mind. Then your thoughts drifted to the rest of him.

“I’ll be anything ya want, pumpkin,” he murmured as he got behind you and moved his hand to your hip. He thumbed the waistband of your bottoms and chuckled. You were dressed alike.

He nosed your hair and inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around you. You kept your arms resting on the pool fence, but your body relaxed into his embrace. He held you, with his feet bracketing yours. For the first time all week, you felt safe on some level. And not so alone.

It was the first time he’d hugged you like this. Holding you without a hard-on poking you, and–yeah, nope–there it was.

Not raging, but it twitched and made itself known.

He dipped his head and murmured into your neck, “Let’s go have a beer, watch a movie or somethin’," and his hips pushed forward, making you throb. But at the same time, you tensed at an assumption that he had expectations all along.

“Yeah, I know,” he acknowledged, without backing away. “Too damn hot, pumpkin. I just wanna hold ya, now I got two things in the way.”

“Two things?”

“That fine ass and this cock.”

You had been enjoying the softer side of him, but the harder side sure did make you tingle.

“I just wanna rest,” you answered.

“We'll just rest, then,” he replied. “We can just sleep if ya want. Can’t promise I'll behave in the *mornin’*, but…”

“Feels good out here,” you said.

“Alright pumpkin,” he agreed. “We’ll stay here a while.” Then he asked with light-hearted skepticism, “Feel good against this fence?”

His arms relaxed around you, then fell away.

You felt cold as he stepped aside, but he took your hand and gently pulled you to the pool gate. He reached his free hand over and unlocked it. The metal creaked as he pushed it open.

“C’mon,” he led you in, all the way to the edge of the pool. He dropped your hand to roll up his pj pants, then while he was down there, he rolled yours up, too. You both slipped of your sandals. “Sometimes I just look at the water….all lit up. Speakin’ of,” he reached in his pocket and showed you a joint.

“Not now,” you answered, and he tucked it behind his ear as he sat down on the edge.

You sat down an inch or two away from him, and he scooted over to close the gap. He placed his hand on the back of your head and you leaned into him. He put his arm around you. “Ya know pumpkin… it’s gonna be okay.” Your throat tightened again. He continued, ”There’s been times I thought it wouldn’t. But it always got better.”

You both watched the light patterns dance in the water, and he added, “Might’a taken time, but it did.”

“I dunno,” you sniffled.

He rubbed your arm and said, “Well, you’re not alone, anyway.”

And you couldn't help but laugh, “yeah I've noticed.”

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Thank you for reading 💙🫂

[fictivecanoncalls]

i am john's dad from homestuck. you can call me john's dad although i consider dirk and dave to be my sons as well. the body is a minor, i do not have memories of other people from homestuck. looking for john, dirk, or dave.

Calling all Homestuck fictives!

[wandasslut3000]

Did you miss me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, dom!wanda, unspecified age gap, brief sexting, teasing, pet names, magic use, praise/degrading kink, breastplay, strapless strap-on, double sided dildo, bdsm, bondage/blindfold use, cunnilingus, edging, begging, overstimulation, face-sitting, aftercare.

WC: 2.3k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You're watching your favorite show in the common area of the compound, bored out of your mind, taking peeks at your phone occasionally to check if you'd gotten any texts.

You're waiting for your girlfriend Wanda to get back from her friend's birthday party. It had only been a few hours, but you miss her.

You turn your attention back to the screen and watch as a more explicit scene comes on.

Suddenly, an idea comes into your mind.

You leave your seat, heading up into your shared bedroom and start rummaging in your closet. When you find what you're looking for, you squeal in excitement.

Wanda is going to love this.

You quickly strip yourself of your clothes and ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to alert you whenever she gets back home, you take your time slipping into your red lingerie – your girlfriend's favorite set.

You smile as you eye your reflection in the mirror in the corner of the room. The fabric pushes up your breasts and ass just enough for her liking. You shiver at the memory of the last time you wore it for her, how good she made you feel that night.

You grab your phone and take a picture of yourself lying down on your bed to tease Wanda. Sending it to her, you smirk when you get a response almost instantly.

*attachment: 1 image sent*

Wanda❤️: Naughty girl

You decide to mess with her even more, wanting to rile her up.

This time, you lay down on your stomach and decide to give her a better shot of your chest, both of your breasts pressing up against each other, your necklace in the middle almost getting caught in between them.

Getting up, you go to take a full-body selfie in the mirror, tugging the waistband of your panties with two fingers while you bite your lip, staring straight into the camera through the phone with big doe eyes, knowing full well the effects it would have on her.

*attachment: 2 images sent*

Wanda❤️: Don't expect to be walking anytime soon after I'm done with you detka.

That text alone shoots heat toward your core.

Y/n: Wasn't planning on it ;)

You lay back down on your bed and start to scroll through your phone, trying to find things to distract you from responding to her, knowing full well she will be fuming when she's back.

A few moments later, F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice echoes in the room.

"Ms. Y/l/n, Ms. Maximoff has entered the compound. She's requested for soundproof mode to be activated. Would you like to confirm?"

"Yes, I can confirm," you smirk, excited to see where this goes. Taking off your necklace and setting it on top of the dresser, you lay down on your stomach, facing the entrance of the room, holding your face up in your hands.

You flinch slightly when Wanda barges in and slams the door, her dark eyes landing on you with her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hi baby." you smile innocently, lifting your legs up to wiggle them back and forth, returning her wandering gaze.

"Did you miss me?"

Wanda doesn't say anything; instead, she snaps her fingers, her magic throwing you down to lay onto your back. A small squeal leaves your chest at the sudden moment. Some of your toys now on-top the bedside drawer, Wanda's magic whirling around her and leaving her in only her bra and panties.

She makes her way up to you, straddling your thighs and crashing her lips with yours in a bruising kiss. Wanda slips her tongue into your mouth, making you let out a low whimper, your tongues dancing in unison. She moves one hand down to your cheek while placing the other on your lower neck, keeping your lips together.

Wanda slowly brings her hand down to your chest, slipping her hand under your bra and playing with your nipple, making you moan at the sensation. She then plays with the bud and tweaks it between two fingers.

She moves her other hand to your back and swiftly unclamps your bra, tossing it somewhere across the room. Breaking the kiss before she starts to pepper kisses on your neck, still toying with you, kneading your breasts.

Your breath hitches when she bites down on your pulse point and rubs her tongue there to soothe the hurt. Wanda continues nipping at your neck, not caring about the multitude of dark purple marks she's bound to leave behind. She makes her way toward your cleavage, placing sweet, gentle kisses on it before roughly latching herself onto your left nipple.

You buck your hips in anticipation. You love the way she's making you feel, but your wetness wants – no, needs – to be included in the stimulation.

"Patience, princessa," she finally speaks before kissing her way to your neglected breast and giving it the same attention, only this time, she bites down on your nipple, making you moan as the pain turns into pleasure.

"Baby, please," you whine. She smirks, shaking her head. She starts to tease you by moving her kisses down to your abdomen and sucking right under your bellybutton, you squirm in response.

She places herself in between your legs, planting her lips on different spots of your inner thighs, making you grunt in frustration.

"You don't get to be upset with me, malishka. Do you know how unfair it was for me? Not being able to do touch you while you were sending me such dirty things," she scolds.

You watch as she gets up from her place between your thighs and reaches for something on the nightstand.

Wanda grabs the strap-on, and you bite your lip at the sight of the smaller end sinking into her. You hear her groan as she adjusts to the toy, the noise sending a surge of wetness to your panties.

She reaches again and grabs some restraints and a blindfold. She holds the fabric up to your face, pausing for a moment.

"You've been a very bad girl, sweetheart. You know that means I'm going to have to put you in your place." She cups your face as a slight reassurance. Wanting you to know that she won't make you do anything you don't want and this was your chance to back out, before she connects your lips together.

The kiss starts off as gentle and passionate but soon turns into one of hunger. Wanda flicks her wrists, and her red wisps tie the restraints around your arms. When she pulls back, she gives you one more quick peck before wrapping the blindfold around your eyes.

Your vision plungs into darkness, and it is as if your other senses heighten. Her scent of vanilla is now stronger than before, her cool breath pressing onto your neck. You start to feel her fingertips slowly moving downwards toward your center.

Wanda licks the bottom of your jawline before nipping at it playfully. Feeling the bed shift, you can only imagine her hovering over you, the ends of her hair surrounding your face, tickling your cheeks.

She grabs the hem of your panties and snaps it back at your hip bone. You hear her hum, and you moan slightly when she cups your clothed pussy. She starts toying with your clit through the fabric, your panties dampening even more.

She chuckles dryly. "You're getting so wet for me baby." You groan in response, your legs twitching in anticipation. Wanda slowly pulls the fabric off of you and you hear her throw it to the floor. The bed shifts again and you feel her blow cold air into your bare, glistening cunt.

"W-wanda.

She doesn't respond and suddenly you feel two of her strong fingers slip into you, making you let out a loud breathy moan. No wonder she asked for the room to be soundproofed. "So tight" she mumbles.

Her thrusts rough and hard, just how she knows you like it. The lewd noises coming from your lower half make you wince behind the blindfold, the moans that force themselves out of your throat get higher and higher in pitch. As you feel myself getting closer to your release, she pulls out completely.

"Wha- no- please don't stop!" You cry out, tears of frustration starting to form in your eyes; the fabric absorbing them.

You feel the bed shift once more when Wanda leans over to nip at your earlobe.

"I don't plan of it detka." She whispers before leaning back and rubbing - what you can only assume is the strap on - up and down your slit. Wetting it with your arousal. You can hear her let out soft moans and it makes you want to see her, your clit throbbing.

When you try to reach and pull the blindfold from your face, the restraints on your wrists stops you, and before you can complain or say anything Wanda pushes the toy into you. You moan loudly when you feel it fill up every surface inside of you. She starts to teasingly thrust into you.

So slowly.

"F-faster, Wanda fast- faster." You whimper.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

"Fucking hell- Wanda I need you! I need you so much.. Please, just please fuck me!"

She smirks and starts to buck her hips into yours. The sound of your skin slapping against each other quickly fills the room, along with your practically synced moans. Both of you chasing your high.

"Fuck-" she pants, "Fuck, you're so pretty" Her hands grip at your hips harshly, repeatedly pulling you against her and over the toy. The smaller end hitting her spot perfectly and the feeling of your nipples brushing against each others making Wanda's mouth fall open.

You soon feel a wave of white hot heat phase through you, after one final thrust both of you are whimpering each other's name. Your legs trembling as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Before you can comprehend it, you feel the toy slide out easily. You whine as your walls clench around nothing. Hating the newfound emptiness that could only be filled by her.

Wanda finally removes the blindfold from your eyes, a wave of dim brightness now slowly attacking your sight. When your eyes finally adjust, they land on the beauty in front of you.

You smile up at her to which she smiles back. Wanda leans down to kiss you and you happily return the favor. You suddenly feel a slight weight shift off your arms. You look down to see your hands no longer bonded to the bed.

Unable to resist yourself, you cup her cheeks and kiss her again, only this time, trying to regain some sort of dominance. Unfortunately, you lose it once again when she starts to grope your chest, making you sigh in pleasure.

She goes back to kissing your neck and makes a faster journey to your core this time. You gasp when she latches her perfect mouth onto your bundle of nerves. Sucking harshly, she pumps one digit into your heat, curling her finger ever so slightly on each pull out.

You loudly moan when you feel her move her finger to let her tongue enter you. The slick muscle plunging in and out of your hole.

You press your hands onto the back of Wanda's head trying to keep her there. She uses her index and middle finger to pinch your clit, causing you to rush into your second orgasm.

She slides her tongue out of you and laps up your cum. You groan softly when you feel her mouth work its way around your pussy.

Wanda finally brings her beautiful face up to you and kisses your puffy lips hungrily, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. When you both pull apart you notice a mischievous glint in her eye and squeal when she flips you over.

You immediately get positioned onto her face, and moan when her mouth gets to work. Your fingers lightly tug at her hair as grind against her. Wanda wraps one arm around your thigh to keep you in place while her other hand lands on your ass, groping at the flesh lightly.

You hum in appreciation when you feel her tongue rub tight circles around your clit. That's when you come undone for the third time, she moans against you, the vibrations sending you into pure bliss.

She doesn't let up however. Her mouth still latched to your core, tongue forcing its way in and out of you.

"Oh- baby- oh!"

Your brain is fuzzy from her actions, she lightly nips at your bundle of nerves before grabbing onto your right breast. You arch my back, screaming in pleasure, your throat now dry from its usage.

Wanda finally lets you slump down into her body. You can barely feel your legs at this point.

She wasn't joking when she said she'd take your ability to walk.

You gasp when you feel her slide her fingers back into your heat. Your eyes start to water again at the overstimulation, making you stuff your face into her chest and whine.

"Wands, i-it's too much"

"It's never too much krasiva" she coos, adding a third finger into your already battered cunt. You groan before attaching your lips onto her nipple.

Wanda moans as you squeal against her when you cum again. You slightly bite down on the skin before lazily rubbing my tongue on it.

You're about to pass out from exhaustion, moving yourself from your girlfriend for a moment to lay down comfortably before wrapping your arms around her. You stuff my face into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

You murmur out a quiet "I love you" making Wanda smile and return the words of affection and you practically sigh in happiness. She pulls the duvet over the both of you and kisses the top of your head.

You and your girlfriend falling asleep relaxed and content in each others arms.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

"scalloped" taters, an Old AF family recipe that was only written down in the last 20 years or so, with no measurements anywhere on the recipe card

oven-safe dish. preferably lidded, but loose aluminum foil works fine too

potates, however many you want or need to use up, sliced as thin as you get can them without a mandoline because no one in the family has ever had one

onions, halved and also sliced thin, quantity relative to how much you like onions

all purpose flour

milk (or halfnhalf if you're a decadent lil guy. you can also use unflavored and unsweetened nondairy milk. i've never tried it, but relatives have and reported positive results)

butter, either room temp so you can plop little bits of it or cut into tiny cubes

seasonings (salt, pepper, i've added fresh thyme and sweet paprika before to great success, old bay because i was half asleep and thought it was paprika and it was fine, nutmeg, five spice, go ham)

add a layer of taters to the bottom of the dish, not specified how deep, but flat double layer turns out best by my experimentations. add some onions. sprinkle some seasonings on it to taste. sprinkle some flour on it. again, no measurements, i use at least one heaping big soup spoon's worth of flour per layer, a solid dusting but you should be able to still see the potatoes through it. a few dots of butter. cannot stress enough that this is how the got dam recipe is written

repeat layers until you run out of potatoes, pressing down as needed. you want a little room between the top of the taters and the lip of the dish. or just bake it with a sheet pan on the rack below it if you're paranoid. don't flour the top layer of taters, butter it liberally instead. how much butter do you want? this is a recipe from 1890s southern usa, home of Eating Fat Recreationally, so the traditional answer is "too much"

the strongest vibe check: pour an unspecified amount of milk (carefully) into the potatoes without disturbing the layers. i usually put the milk in my nicest measuring pyrex with the good spout and pour slowly against the side of the dish. "how much milk?" you might ask naively, like i once did. "enough" is the answer i got. i usually pour until i see the whole mass of taters/onions/flour just start floating off the bottom of the dish. top layer not fully submerged but rubbing elbows with the milk. i like saucy potatoes. the temperature of the milk doesn't matter. i've simmered shit like garlic and bay leaf in it before pouring to great success

bake at 375 until it's done. literally word for word what the recipe says, doesn't say to cover it. i do so i can control sauce thickness and browning, but even that isn't necessary. i start checking after 20 mins. when it's done, the taters and onions will be soft all the way through and the milk/flour/butter/seasonings will have thickened into a sauce. how well this sauce hugs the taters and onions will entirely depend on whether my great great great grandmother reached through your spoon to help guide your flour to milk ratio. too runny for your liking, take the lid off and bake it some more. too thick, add more milk, push it around a little bit to mix, and bake it some more. the world is your potato

it's at its best after a 10-15 minute rest, but it isn't necessary. amount made is also relative; i have done a single serving of this in a ramekin with one (1) potato, quarter of an onion, in a toaster oven, all while very very sick, and it turned out splendidly. it's solid comfort food, 20/10 if great³ gramma possesses you during assembly

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ooooh ty ty

[freak-accident419]

Double Derek

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You spend time with your boyfriend, Derek, before he would leave for a week-long business trip away from home. As a joke, you propose that you should purchase a ‘Clone a Willy’ kit, in case you miss him during his absence. But Derek wasn’t truly against the idea.

Word Count: 4.3k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, mentions of sex toys (they’re literally making one), raunchiness, slightly OOC Derek, too many damn time skips, more plot than porn, the silliness is more prominent in the beginning but not so much the smut, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader)

(A/n: thankyou thankyou so much to @g0ry0re0 for proofreading, you are literally a lifesaver ilysm. thank you for everyone’s support and anticipation for this fic, you all keep me going ❤️ enjoy!!)

-

“Uhh… ‘CBD-infused intimate oil,’” Derek reads off the box in a curious mutter, turning it around to examine the product and its written features. Then he looked at you with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, chuckling under your breath as you watched the imminent purchase remain inside of your boyfriend’s grasp.

You and Derek, since being in a relationship of nearly three years, had always found several ways to spice things up in your sex life. The two of you experimented with almost everything in the book, be it edging, near exhibitionism, toys, food play, etc. And of course, while romantic relationships overall meant way more than just the sex, your sex life with him was just too incredible to ignore. Jesus, you could go on and on for days about how amazing the sex was.

Therefore, it wasn’t unusual at all to find the two of you inside of an adult store. Sure, you mostly bought your things online, but since you two were already out and the shop was nearby, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go in. Plus, the other times you went to the in-person stores were quite beneficial; you were able to see certain sizings of different products and got the necessary and helpful advice from the clerks there.

You and Derek had continued to browse through the raunchy products as you walked down each aisle together. And while the two of you were almost in your thirties, absolutely nothing could deter you two from giggling at some of the ridiculous things sold there. This time, however, you suddenly stopped in your tracks and opened your mouth in complete awe once your eyes had laid upon it.

“Holy fucking shit!” You blurted as you instantly grabbed the tube-shaped box from the shelf in front of you:

‘(GLOW IN THE DARK) CLONE-A-WILLY: THE IN-HOME PENIS MOLDING KIT

MAKE A VIBRATING SILICONE REPLICA OF ANY PENIS (EASY TO MAKE)’

“Is this actually—?” Derek nearly snatches it from you with a fascinated scoff, reading over the description on the packaging. “What the fuck? Do—do people actually do this?”

“Of course they do, I see them, like, everywhere!” You cackled, trying to steal back the box from his grasp. It wasn’t the first time you’ve ever seen it, but it does surprise you every damn time that you do.

“Okay, okay, so… So if I’m getting this right, you could basically make an entire fuckin’ dildo at home… by molding somebody else’s or your own dick?” He raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you wheeze, nodding at him until your smile grew wider in sudden realization. “Shit, baby, you’d take ‘go fuck yourself’s to a whole new level!”

“What the hell, Y/n?” He chuckled, trying not to burst out into any more insufferable laughter, “okay, first of all, who would—Why the fuck would I want to use a replica of my own fucking dick on myself? Like, if anything, it’s you who should be taking it.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that!” You hissed playfully, still smiling from the entire situation you found yourselves in. Suddenly, however, your eyes widened insightfully from an absurd epiphany you just had.

“Wait,” you began. “I mean… You do have a point, considering that your trip is coming up already… Holy shit, imagine that! While you’re going to be gone for a whole fuckin’ week, I could always use this weird clone shit on myself whenever I’m horny! Hell, it’s perfect since you’ve been going to so many business trips lately!” You joked exuberantly before letting out a delighted sigh. “Jesus, baby, this is so ridiculous…”

Chuckling to yourself, you placed the box back on the shelf, prompting a perplexed gaze from Derek—or rather, as he stared at it, a gaze of deep contemplation. You recognized this damn shit-faced look of his. After all, you’ve known him for years.

“Derek—” you began skeptically.

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” he interjects with a thoughtful finger to his chin before a sudden and mischievous smirk appears at his lips. “You know, that actually isn’t a bad idea.”

Completely dumbfounded and taken aback, you raised a suspecting eyebrow. “Wait. You’re not actually considering… I mean, I was just joking around earlier, I wasn’t actually being serious—”

“I know, but think about it, babe! I mean, hell, you even said it yourself! Every time you feel… needy while I’m out, especially on my long business trips, you could always, well… you know,” he grinned darkly, glancing toward the ridiculous sex toy, “and if you want, I could even call you while you—”

“Shush!” You hissed with a slight laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re actually turned on by this freaky shit, aren’t you?!” It was actually quite hypocritical of you to call him out like that, as you tried to push your own feelings of arousal to the side. “I mean, I’d be down, but… Are you actually being for real right now?”

He scoffs at your remarks, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I mean… I’d be lying if I said that the thought of you being that desperate for my cock wouldn’t turn me on.”

“Really? You’re kidding.” You gasp in utter disbelief. Frankly, you never would’ve expected Derek to be into this kind of stuff, even knowing firsthand that he could be pretty extreme. It was most likely the fact that it was a ‘penis molding kit’ that caught you off guard when your boyfriend genuinely considered it. “You’re actually—Because like, while I was joking, you know, I actually still wanted to get it, but I didn’t know if you were down, or—”

“Babe, this might be the weirdest yet sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever thought of us doing. Of course I’m down.”

***

After bringing home the very ‘unique’ product the two of you purchased from the adult store, you and Derek had set up in the spacious kitchen of his (which was technically yours too, since you practically lived with him now). With all of your necessary supplies laid out on the counter as well as the kit’s included materials, you made it to the fifth step together. The counter’s surface was crowded with measuring cups, bowls, and the other required items as Derek’s lower half had been completely naked to prepare for the molding process. He was actually already jerking off vacantly, a cock ring against the base of his dick to keep him as hard as he could be for the mold.

“Oh my god, I can’t stop thinking about that,” you chuckle as you began to stir the mix of water with the kit’s included molding powder. “That was so fucking hilarious!”

“You’d think that—” Derek scoffs in amusement, practically interrupting himself. “When the cashier said I looked familiar, you’d think that she would’ve mentioned Danforth Enterprises or, hell, even my mom, right? But she thought—she fucking said—”

“Robby Apples!” You nearly cackle, continuing to mix the bowl’s contents after setting a timer for a minute, “She thought you were a fuckin’ porn star!”

“I—” he scoffs with a wide, amused grin on his lips, “Personally? I don’t see it. I don’t think we look alike, like, at all.”

“Right, right,” you chuckle softly, “but it’s the hair. It’s the hair, baby! The curls and stupid frosted tips, I bet that’s why she assumed that!”

“I mean, yeah, but Y/n… I’m way more famous than him. Like, I’m literally CEO of my company—hell, my mother is the President of the United fucking States! Like, how the hell do you mistake me for someone else?! Let alone a fucking porn star!” Derek huffs playfully, surprisingly not too offended by the mix-up. Usually his ego would be heavily bruised whenever someone didn’t recognize him immediately, but he was having way too much fun with you to even be serious about it. And you loved it.

“But, like…” you began with a slight smile, “to be fair, babe, she works at that sex shop. Her mind must be porn over politics.”

“Hey, just because she works at a sex shop doesn’t mean she’s a porn addict.” Derek then raises an eyebrow as he attempts to call you out, “Now that’s just assuming, isn’t it?”

You scowled, yet a small smirk still creeped upon your lips. “You’re talking to me about assuming? You’re—You say that as if you’re not the most judgmental asshole in the fucking world.”

“Ugh, fair point,” Derek shrugged in acceptance and self-awareness, not even bothering to argue because he knew you were right. Then, he paused thoughtfully. “That is a great slogan, though.”

“What, about assumptions?”

“No, ‘porn over politics.’”

“Oh, yes,” you nod with a hint of sarcasm, “The epitome of Derek Danforth.”

“Uh, no,” he scoffs quickly, “money and superiority is the epitome of Derek Danforth.”

You paused with a grimace on your face. “You did not just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“Wh—You do it all the time!” He exclaims.

“Uh, yeah,” you scoff, “ironically!”

Somehow, you didn’t notice until now that Derek was holding his phone in his hand, looking at the screen as he continued to stroke himself to sustain his erection. “Hey, what are you looking at, by the way?”

His eyes went up to you with an innocent, neutral expression. “Uhhh, your nudes.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” you chuckle.

“Uh, no,” he says, turning his phone around in an attempt to show you. “I’m literally going through them right now—”

“No, ew, don’t show me!” You laugh from embarrassment as you looked down at the mixing bowl you stirred, covering the peripheral view with your hand. As sexy as they were to Derek and to you during the time you were taking them, you really couldn’t take them seriously afterwards.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, babe,” he teases knowingly, making you roll your eyes. “You look so hot in them.”

“Dude—Of course I’m fucking embarrassed!” You reasoned, “I thought it was hot until the post-nut fuckin’ clarity kicked in!”

Suddenly, the timer went off as the two of you laughed softly at your last comment. You were then prompted to instantly focus as you turned off the blaring alarm and grabbed the tube closer to yourself on the counter.

“You fully hard, baby?” You ask casually, beginning to pour the white mixture inside of the tube.

“Yup,” he nodded simply, watching you prepare for the molding process.

After you finished pouring in all of the thick molding substance, you grabbed the tube and walked closer to your boyfriend. “Okay, so we’re just molding your dick now, for like, two… two minutes, I think? And you’re just gonna have to stay hard like that and don’t move too much,” you giggle, “I have to act fast, though, because there’s a reason why the water had to be ninety degrees, alright?”

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, “go ahead, babe.”

After setting up a two minute timer on your phone, you slowly placed the tube full of the ‘molding gel’ over his dick, making some of the white, thick substance drip out onto the floor. The two of you already began to cackle, Derek groaning in slight disgust from the weird feeling that the texture of the paste gave him around his cock.

“This is really fuckin’ messy,” he raises an eyebrow as he watches the leftover mixture spill onto the smooth, quartz tiles of the kitchen floor. “And it feels really… really weird around my dick,” Derek laughs softly.

“Well, we were warned about the mess but… damn, I didn’t know it’d be this crazy,” you chuckle, holding the tube in place, allowing you to stand close to Derek’s naked body. “Also, I know what you’re thinking—You’re not allowed to make a joke about how the molding gel resembles your fucking jizz.” Derek frowns immediately as you giggle at his reaction.

Rolling your eyes, you lean in closer to your lover, placing some soft kisses on his bare shoulder and collarbone. You always believed that Derek’s body was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but show him how much you loved it all the time. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” You mumble with your lips pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Me too, baby,” he sighs softly, “but I’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

“I’m gonna fuck myself so fucking hard with this weird ass thing when you’re gone.”

“Sorry,” you mumble afterwards, realizing what you had blurted caused Derek to become speechless.

Your filthy words had been delivered so bluntly and casually, gaining a low groan from Derek’s throat. “Fuck. You can’t just—Baby, please tell me you’ll get me off after we do this because, fuck, I’ve been so hard for so fucking long and you’re already making things worse with that kind of talk,” he complains, nearly pleading.

“Jeez, I said I was sorry...” Chuckling, you bury your face in his neck affectionately. “Don’t worry, babe, we have so much time after this. You can fuck me as hard as you want.”

“Fuck…” he moaned at the visual you gave him with your words.

Resting your lips contently in the crook of his neck, you let out a small snicker afterwards. “Dude, I can’t get that stupid fucking meme out of my head…”

“What meme?” Derek asked curiously, no longer focusing solely on his arousal he had for you.

“The fuckin’—Your mom, the Jessica Danforth one that they would—”

“Oh, my god,” he scoffs lightly with a smile, amused by recollection of a popular, new internet meme they made of the US President. “But that one is so fucking stupid.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s iconic because your mom is iconic,” you retort playfully, “and those ‘stupid’ memes ended up being genuine, effective marketing strategies towards her campaign.”

Honestly, it was kind of adorable to Derek that you thought that lousy, new generation memes of her was what mainly helped his mother’s campaign. It was less adorable, however, that it wasn’t really the case. If only you knew…

You leaned in, briefly connecting your soft lips with his, appreciating the intimacy of your closeness that this position bestowed upon the two of you. Your kiss had pushed his underlying guilt aside for now, melting in the short moment of sweetness.

“Hey, when can I get this thing off of me?” He asks suddenly once your lips had parted from each other.

You pursed your lips curiously. “Uhh, well, is it hard yet?”

“Baby, my dick has been hard the entire time for this, you know that.”

“No, I meant—” you giggled breathlessly, “I meant the molding gel, has it hardened yet?”

“Well, it feels like it, sort of,” he remarked with a shrug.

“Eh, we can just wait for the full two minutes,” you suggested, prompting that you both should wait until the timer ends.

Soon enough, the two of you had gone through the entire procedure. You removed the tube from Derek’s cock, placing it on the counter as you mixed the silicone packets together to pour that mixture into the mold. Then, you placed the included vibrator inside the tube through the hole of a cardboard cover that rested on the top of the rim to keep it from sinking completely down into the mold.

“We are… done,” you laugh softly, the two of you looking at the tube filled with liquid silicone, most certainly taking the form of Derek’s dick. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but we are going to have to wait, like, twenty-four hours until we can take it out of the mold.”

“Well, shit. I am actually both fucking terrified and excited to see how it’ll end up looking like,” he shrugs with a slight scoff.

“Your dick, but in a glow-in-the-dark green,” you reply with a simple nod. “So… What now?”

A thoughtful yet mischievous grin appears on Derek’s lips as his eyes trail hungrily over your body.

After eagerly stripping your pants and underwear down, Derek lifted you up on the edge of the kitchen table, lips never leaving yours as he kissed you deeply and passionately. He grabbed onto your thigh, lightly gasping at the rough grip as his other hand slipped under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your back. Derek actually used the hemp oil that you two purchased earlier (alongside the Clone-A-Willy), rubbing it over your sensitive groin, then pleasurably lubricating your entrance. “God, I need you so bad, baby,” he mumbles lustfully, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter to line himself up with you.

A soft, yet vocal moan escaped your lips as you feel his rock hard, throbbing cock stretching and pushing through your tight, needy hole. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Derek grunts, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with lust and admiration. And from this heavenly sensation, you had been reminded that he still had that cock ring on.

You giggled immaturely, “you know, I forgot you even had that o—” He moved both his hands to spread open your thighs, trailing back up to grip your hips as he began to slowly thrust inside of you, making you whine as you placed your hands on his shoulders. “D-Derek—” You choke out a moan as he gradually increases his pace, firmly pushing his hips against yours to get as deep inside of you as he could. His cock was so fucking hard, indisputably caused by the pressure of the ring, but also from how much your sole body turned him on.

The two of your moans echoed in the atmosphere of the kitchen, especially as you wrapped your legs tightly around his back, pushing him in even deeper. “Fuck,” you whined softly, feeling one of his hands trail under the back of your shirt again during each heavy thrust until he finally lifts it off of you, throwing the piece of fabric onto the floor.

Your insides had deliciously gripped Derek’s firm cock so tight, withdrawing a low, prolonged groan from his throat as he then picked up the pace. He pounded deeply into you, head hanging low as he focused on his hard thrusts.

“Shit!” You nearly cry, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to feel more sensitive. “You’re so fucking hard, hell…”

“Am I usually not?” He teases with a smirk, not ceasing his movements anytime soon.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” you panted breathlessly. “The fucking cock ring’s, like, making you even harder than you ever been. I can’t believe this only, like, the second time we’ve ever used it.”

“Are you implying that we should use it more?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hell, yeah,” you replied with a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Derek groans, hiding his face in your neck, briefly nipping at your flesh. “Fucking love how tight you feel around my fucking cock.”

You moaned at his sultry words, your arms leaving his neck and holding yourself up with your palms flat on the counter behind you, attempting to grind against his movements. “Fuuuck,” you mumble as your palms shifted behind you, nudging and almost knocking down the Clone-A-Willy tube that was still filled with un-solidified silicone. “Oh, shit!” Gasping in a short panic, you held it steady before it could fall and moved it away to the side.

“Jesus, babe, you almost spilled over my dick,” he scoffs with a chuckle, his thrusts slightly sloppy from this distraction.

“Oh, I’ll spill something over your dick, babe,” you joked swiftly with a playful smirk.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking terrible,” he groaned as a mere, amused smile formed at his lips.

“Shut up, I’m not the one who got mistaken for a porn star,” you retorted, flashing a teasing grin.

“God, never fucking bring that up again,” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I will, baby, I will so use it against you,” you claim humorously.

Suddenly, he lifts you up by your ass, away from the counter as he was still pressed deeply inside of you. Holding you up against him in the center of the kitchen floor, he thrusted up inside of you, creating a strong wave of pleasure throughout your entire being.

“Fuck!” You cried as his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass, pushing his cock in and out of your sensitive hole. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe, you might not be a porn star, but you sure as hell fuck like one, shit…” The harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed lewdly in the kitchen as he continued holding you up, and even guiding and pushing your hips skillfully against his.

Finally, he brought the two of you over on a chair, sitting down against it as you were positioned on top, his dick completely inside of you. “Ride me, baby,” he mutters, cupping your face gently, yet pulling you in urgently for a deep, wet kiss, shoving his tongue through your lips.

Breaking the kiss, Derek’s hands explored and caressed the warm, smooth skin of your body, muttering lustful praises to you. This prompted you to begin moving, placing your hands on his shoulders as your hips would gently grind against his. “Mmm,” you hum softly in pleasure before your head is thrown back the moment you increase your pace.

You let your knees assist you in bouncing on his thick cock, feeling his arms being wrapped around your back tightly to bring you in closely and intimately. “Fuck, baby…” Derek huffs, attempting to move his hips up with yours.

This position was short-lived, however, because of Derek’s urgency to fuck you fast and properly, lifting you back up once again. He made out with you as he held you, kissing your lips roughly and hotly while we stumbled towards the living room to finally throw you down on the couch.

He immediately grabbed your legs, lifting them up to place your ankles over his shoulders, nipping softly at your legs in admiration before thrusting back in.

“Fuck!” He groans, moving his hips at a much rougher and faster rate, practically pounding into you with both lust and love.

“Shit, Derek!” You whimper, feeling his cock slide in and out of you so fluidly, stretching and caressing your sensitive walls. From all the buildup of the previous positions, you felt so close already. “Fuck, baby. I—I’m gonna cum—”

“Just—fuck—hold on a little longer, baby,” he mutters, ramming his dick inside of you without faltering, focusing on driving the both of you to the very edge.

“Baby…” You whined desperately, looking up at him as you felt yourself begin to clench around him. And that really did it for him.

“Fuuuck,” Derek moaned, his movements against you beginning to stagger, “Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

A loud, whiny moan escaped your lips as your back arched up against him, tensing up as you finally released. Your tight, fleshy walls around Derek prompted him to come right after, spilling his warm, white semen deep inside of you, muttering a few curse words before collapsing on top of you.

The both of you panted heavily, struggling to catch your breaths as you felt each other’s sweaty, naked body against one another’s. You chuckle breathlessly, feeling so content from the overwhelming ecstasy that your orgasm bestowed upon yourself.

“So good,” Derek whispered, kissing your lips in a sloppy, lazy manner, “you did so good for me, sweetheart.”

***

“What in… the actual fuck.”

The next day, after it had been exactly 24 hours since you’ve poured in the silicone inside of the mold, you and Derek took it out, revealing his glow-in-the-dark, cloned dick.

The two of you looked down at the new dildo, then looked at each other before cackling loudly and heartily, your laughs echoing in the kitchen where you had done the reveal.

“Oh, my god, it looks—it looks exactly fucking like it, babe!” You exclaim in disbelief, nearly wheezing as you hold the light green, phallic object in your grasp.

“That is,” he began, trying to recover from his previous, hearty laughter, “fucking insane. It’s so uncanny, like… it looks so real.”

“Dude, look at all the detail!” You urged, small snickers escaping your throat, “like even the veins and the fucking—what—frenulum, like… What the hell?!”

“And it’s such a bright ass neon green, holy shit,” Derek chuckled, continuing to examine the silicone.

“Hey, it matches your entire vibe, at least. You know. Green. Money. Ehh?”

The two of you giggled childishly, enjoying the absolute absurdity of this entire situation. “God, only you, Y/n, could get me to do the stupidest fucking things that I would never be willing to do for, like, anybody else,” Derek remarked with a slight smile.

”Hey, you were up for it too,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “I was joking about it first, but you were the one who took it seriously!”

“Uh, you were the one who grabbed it first,” retorted Derek.

“And you were the one who took it seriously when I was joking,” you repeated, chuckling softly in amusement.

“I—” But before he could say anything, he realized that you were right. “God fucking dammit.”

***

Tomorrow, Derek would have left for the business trip, the two of you saying your goodbyes before he would disappear into his private jet. And the day after, as your lover stayed at a luxurious hotel, lounging comfortably on the bed, he received a few texts from you during the night:

Y/n: hey

Y/n: it actually does glow in the dark btw

Y/n: [sent an attachment]

Derek’s eyes widened instantly, jaw dropping at the sight of the diabolically lewd image you had just sent him. Including the familiar, bright green item in the frame, of course.

“Holy fu—”

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Reactions To Your Death! [Peri-Crash] (1)

A/N: Heads up! This is written with you in mind as their romantic partner, but you can always just interpret it as whichever you want. Your death is left unspecified because I want it to be left open for you to decide (when and how). Jackie and Laura Lee didn't die in this just as they originally did in canon early on.

Jackie Taylor:

When you die, Jackie is crushed. The moment you die and leave her, it's as if everything around her just dissolved into nothing. She'd be in denial of it at first, thinking maybe when she sleeps at night and wakes up the next day, she'd find you awake beside her. But it doesn't happen, and the longer Jackie tries to ignore it, the deeper she spirals down.

She wouldn't know how to process any of it, much less cope with the fact that you're no longer around anymore, other than putting up a front with everyone else and pretending she's got everything composed even though she clearly doesn't. When she's all by herself, she'll just break down suddenly and cry; all while holding onto something that once belonged to you.

When Jackie begins accepting that you're really gone, she only sinks deeper. She becomes a mess, barely able to hold herself together. She takes out her feelings on the other yellowjackets, more judgemental and controlling. Doing everything she can to avoid grieving you more. She clings to your belongings, even when they serve no purpose. It's due to this that she becomes distant from the others.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna's grief is quiet, yet it speaks more volumes than anything. She'd try to rationalize your death as something inevitable, but knowing her, she'd always mourn you even when she thinks like that. Not knowing how to get the pain of losing you out of her, she'd project it outward. She'd keep something of yours—anything that belonged to you once—close to her as a way of coping.

It doesn't matter how or to whom you died, Shauna would be consumed by guilt no matter what. She would just shut down emotionally, and replay the moments she had with you before your death. Second-guessing everything she said or did when you were still around and alive before. She'd wonder endlessly if she could have done something, anything to prevent your death.

Your death would become this silent but omnipresent wound for Shauna because she would constantly just ruminate about the what-ifs, and blame herself for not being able to do anything before your death. It really doesn't help that one of her coping mechanisms to live with the fact that you're dead is just daydreaming that you're still alive and with her.

Taissa Turner:

Taissa would just bury her feelings and emotions, compartmentalizing them to stay focused on keeping the other safe. She'd just double down on tasks, and insist everyone on moving forward. But she can't fool anyone, because it shows. Sometimes, she's just staring blankly at something that reminds her of you or snapping when someone questions her out of nowhere. She's spiraling, she knows.

Losing you would devastate Tai, especially if she felt like she couldn't stop it from happening. She wouldn't be able to let herself grieve you properly at all, and things only get much worse when because of that, it manifests into these nightmares or hallucinations where she sees you alive. She would know that it isn't real, her eyes are just deceiving her. But that wouldn't stop her from wanting it to be real.

Aside from those, Tai would become super focused on survival, almost as a way to honor you somehow. Your death makes her sleepwalking way worse than before because despite being asleep with her subconscious mind being the only thing leading her in her sleep, she's seeking you out unknowingly despite everything else.

Van Palmer:

Van would take your death incredibly hard. And one of the ways she would try coping with your death is just by making some light-hearted jokes. It hurts her to think about you, especially after your death, but it hurts her way even more to not think of you. In some way, she ends up thinking your death was a sign. Maybe even a punishment for something she did, something they've done.

Aside from humor, Van would try her best to deflect anything that involves you. She would avoid places (though it can't be helped that she still would come there from time to time) or objects tied back to you, not wanting to confront her own loss directly. If someone on the team questions her about how she's feeling, she will just brush it off with a strained smile and a weak reassurance in response.

Usually at night, when everyone's asleep and when she's all by herself, Van would talk to you as if you could still hear her. As if you were still alive. And despite how pathetic it may seem, she hopes for some sign that maybe you're watching over her. Whether she was involved fully or not with your death, she would blame herself, somehow ending up thinking that her own survival came at your expense.

Natalie Scatorccio:

Whether she could have done something to prevent your death or not, Natalie would feel overwhelmingly helpless. She would be so angry at everything because of your death. She would blame herself, the crash, and the whole universe for your death. It's because of her grief that she would be a bit reckless and take risks for her survival, almost as if she doesn’t care about dying or not because of it.

Nat after your death would be like a ticking time bomb. You were one of the few things grounding her, and with your death comes the push into self-destruction. During desperate times of need with the team, she'd end up lashing at them. More so to those she blames for your death, whether or not they had anything to do with it.

If she had anything that reminded her of you, you can bet she'd be holding onto it tightly. Maybe even sometimes talk to it as if you were still alive. For a while after your death, she'd be bitter towards everyone before begrudgingly just accepting that you're dead and there's nothing she could have done to prevent it. Nat would put up barriers again between herself and the team, just to isolate herself.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie would try her damnest to convince herself that your death was part of a larger purpose. Something that the wilderness planned (was it even necessary? why did it have to be you out of everyone else?). She would insist on making the whole team follow a certain ritual or just something—anything—symbolic in your honor. If some of them didn't want to, she would become defensive or more insistent with it.

Whether you actually stayed around to see each of them slowly but surely lose their mind more after your death, Lottie will have this belief where she thinks your spirit is around and lingering with her. And this only worsens when she starts having visions of you that are vivid because she interprets them as signs that you're not truly gone.

It doesn't matter if she actually believes in it herself or not, it comforts her. It gives her a sense of purpose despite your death. While she tries to make it seem like your death was kind of a good thing, she's hurting more than she lets anyone see. When the group starts getting more divided, she unintentionally ends up using your death as something to inspire the rest to actually be a team and work together.

Laura Lee:

She's so torn to the point that she leans into her faith about the man from above and believes that maybe in some way—somehow—your death was something that he had planned. That your death wasn't just something done by the universe to be cruel towards her, make her more miserable than she already is. She would try comforting others about your death, but it would be more like she's comforting herself than them.

Despite her belief, she'd wrestle so hard with guilt about your death; wondering almost endlessly if she could have done something—just anything to save you. Over time, she convinces herself that your death was maybe a test of her own faith in him and so. But just like everyone else in the group, she's spiraling. She's falling apart just like all of them are.

Your death challenges Laura Lee’s faith. She'd begin struggling to reconcile why the man from above would ever allow this to happen. But she’d never admit it, she would never admit her doubts and just keep it all to herself instead. She becomes so focused on praying and just having these memorials for you that she becomes hopeless to the point she starts thinking maybe there isn't any higher being out there in the world, it's all just us people ourselves out here.

Misty Quigley:

Misty copes with her grief about your death by hyper-fixation, unable (she's kind of numb to your death) to move on from it fully and accept that you're no longer around. She'd refuse to let go of anything that belonged to you, keeping those things close to her and constantly talking about you as if you were still alive.

Misty would lash out terribly hard at anyone that tells her to move on, she would go on about how they're being disrespectful of your memory by being like that. To punish them in her head and just to be petty, she ignores them for some time completely when they need her. Only actually getting over it once Nat tells her she's being ridiculous for that.

She throws herself into keeping others alive after your death, claiming it's what you would’ve wanted. But she doesn't know that. She just thinks it's what you would have wanted. At some point after your passing, she'll start telling the others she can feel you and that you're guiding her. But no one really believes her. Things only become worse when she becomes more manipulative, using you basically as a reason to justify her behavior.

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part four

one | two | three

masterlist

this is their song sorry i don't make the rules (yes i do) summary: eight years have passed since you walked out of joel miller's kitchen, now you have your own restaurant in new york city. you're a household name, respected within your own right - but some ghosts are harder to shake than others. pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader content/warnings (spoilers): no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, mention of food, pure angst, arguing, swearing, unspecified age gap, cheating if you squint, joel is a prick who can't regulate his emotions, character death.

Fuckin' useless.

You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too?

You're useless.

Dawn hadn't quite broken yet.

The rattle of the subway shook you loose from the claws of that familiar memory; the one you had to fight during any moment of stillness.

Ladies swallowed by wool scarves and labourers with chins tucked into the necks of their coats littered the seats of the carriage.

You'd hoped the years would ease the drowning; that distance and time would singe away the nerve endings that pricked up at any hint of a Texan accent.

No such luck. The best you could do was filter out any articles including the words chef and Joel Miller on your social media and news apps.

Your apartment was a cosy one-bed in Williamsburg. Most nights you woke reaching for a phantom warmth that your fingers could never find; nails clawing at your fitted sheet in frustration when all you could grasp was cotton. You were grateful for the omnipresent city traffic that lulled you back to sleep.

The first year was the hardest.

He had become a ghost story, haunting you in each sip of coffee or raised voice in the street. You hated yourself for craving his temper; you would've killed to feel the heat pricking at your skin as he barked orders at you.

You missed the games you had played to stay his little secret. Swallowing his poison, letting it decay your self-worth, just so you could be his.

But it was never enough. You were never enough.

"This is an M-line service. The next station is Broadway-Lafayette."

Rising from your seat, you gently shook your head from side to side.

Enough, you thought, inhaling slowly as the doors parted.

Enough.

Only January in New York could rouse gratitude for the stuffy microclimate of the subway. You'd never get used to that first gust of winter air; the one that reddens the tips of your ears before you even have the chance to acclimatise to street level.

It was different here.

Temperature aside, your days were no longer spent walking on a raised edge, willing yourself to remain balanced. For too long, you'd laid blankets over thorn bushes and convinced yourself it was a good enough place to rest your head.

There was pressure; no kitchen worth its Himalayan salt could function without it. But at every blind corner hands were reaching out to steady you, and you them.

It was nice. You were happy - or content, at the very least.

And even if you weren't happy, you only ever had enough hours in the day to clamour your way through service. You hadn't dealt in anything as trivial as love - if you could even call it that - since you'd turned your back on Texas.

It was a short walk from the subway to the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty this early but rushing had become second nature since moving to the city.

A food critic from the New York Times was due to be dining sometime this week, but last night an "unofficial source" you'd fooled around with in college had texted you a heads-up to be on top form this afternoon.

You'd heeded the warning with a smirk; you were always on top form.

Morning beat on with the usual trepidation of pre-service; menus drafted and re-drafted until you were satisfied; table settings scrutinised under three different levels of lighting; reservations checked, then double-checked, for any notable guests. There was nothing left to perfect by the time you opened your doors for lunch.

Your kitchen was a sanctuary of praise and encouragement; only the best went out to the pass, but you did so without raising your voice at even the most tedious mistakes.

"Sauce has congealed, chef. You need to start again, please." You smiled tightly at your sous-chef who repeated your request with a nod.

Allergy notices and orders merged with the sizzling of fish on the griddle pan in a swift symphony. You bit back a smile at the chaos, content with submerging yourself in the music of the kitchen for the rest of your days.

"Chef, one of the guests would like to speak with you." Tom, your newest front-of-house hire, called from the pass.

"Me? Now?" You replied dumbfounded.

"Yeah, he's just had the prosciutto and spinach scallops. Kind of old, Southern, I think."

A familiar feeling pooled in your gut.

"Thanks, Tom. I'll go see what he wants." Untying your apron, you took a deep breath in.

All eyes were fixed on you. Sabrina, your sous-chef, took your apron from your damp palms and rested a hand between your shoulder blades. Sweat beaded at the base of your neck.

"Give him hell. Who even reads the New York Times, anyway?"

A few low hoots echoed around the kitchen as you pushed your shoulders back and made your way toward the dining room.

Your facade melted as soon as you saw him. It infuriated you that he hadn't changed a bit. Only, grey framed his face more prominently now.

Everything else was perfectly the same.

"Joel." You breathed, hovering over the empty chair opposite him.

His face relaxed - not quite into a smile, it was something you'd never been able to put your finger on.

That's what infuriated you about him the most, you thought, you could never quite get him underneath your thumb. He would never give you the privilege.

"New menu each day, huh? Sounds like something I'd do."

"Is that it?" You choked, fighting to keep your voice low and expression neutral. It was so easy for him to get a rise out of you, he didn't even need to try.

"You think I'd come all this way t'just tell you that?"

Before a retort could form around your tongue, you noticed the band on his left ring finger.

You could've been sick there and then.

His gaze met yours, realisation setting into the creases in his forehead.

"I have a kitchen to run. Congratulations, Joel." You managed to murmur before tripping into the still kitchen, hot tears burning in the corner of your eyes.

"So?" Sabrina pressed, evidently expecting what should've been a run-in with the critic.

"Wasn't him." Was the only explanation you could muster.

You excused yourself, leaving the slow mechanics of service to resume in your absence. Clutching your stomach, you pushed your way out into the bite of the afternoon chill.

Had he come all this way to flash that thing in your face? To show you how much better his life had turned out in your absence? Even after all these years, was he still punishing you for daring to love him?

You laughed aloud at nothing, breath forming in puffs of condensation before your face. Of course you'd loved him; you still did.

Eight years of keeping yourself busy enough to forget the smell of his chest, the pressure of his lips against your temple in the middle of the night.

You had searched for the giddy intoxication of his presence in everything you did; working yourself to the bone in some sick, futile desire to replicate the knots in your stomach only he could tie.

All the while he'd moved on and settled down with someone he didn't have to hide.

You were useless, after all.

For the remainder of the day, you'd done your best to subside the embarrassment burning through your bloodstream.

The New York Times critic had arrived shortly after you'd attempted some form of composure; Sabrina had stalled her by talking about the weather while you perfected your illusion of a sane, tempered woman in the reflection of a saucepan.

Compared to your encounter with Joel, the magazine meeting was a breeze. Joel Miller may have crushed your self-worth, but over your dead body would you let him ruin this too.

Once all surfaces were wiped down and stoves cooled off for the night, you finally pulled on your coat and made for the exit. It took a few polite declines to join the others at a bar nearby to celebrate surviving the review, but you finally managed to wriggle out of the social obligation.

You saw the staff off, encouraging them to have a drink for you, before finally locking up.

"S'dangerous walking home alone this time of night." You froze, your back to him still.

Using all willpower, you kept your movements steady and unfazed as you twisted the key in the lock.

Fuck, you silently cursed yourself. Don't cry. Don't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not walking. I get the subway."

Joel leaned against the low wall opposite the restaurant, his hands idly resting in the pockets of his thick corduroy jacket.

"Your wife not wondering where you've gotten to?" You'd spoken before you could stop yourself.

He cleared his throat, breaking his gaze on you.

"She's back in Austin. M'here on business, she, uh - she couldn't travel with the little one."

"Jesus." You laughed in despair. There was nothing left inside of you now. All those nights spent trying to remember the feel of his chest beneath your head, he had been making a real life for himself.

"What do you want, Joel? You getting a kick out of seeing me like this?" There was no holding back the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks. He looked like he was debating moving closer to you, brows knitted together, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," he whispered lowly. "Don't waste any tears on me, baby."

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest and tipping your chin toward the night sky. Joel pushed himself from the wall, closing the distance between you both.

"I loved you."

"I was never good enough for you, sweetheart." Joel smiled sadly, his hand finding a stray piece of hair to tuck behind your ear.

A sob escaped your body as you let yourself lean into his touch.

"I thought the world of you."

"You had a much bigger world to find. Look at you."

"I wanted to find it with you. Why wasn't I enough?" You hated the words tainting the cold air around you. You'd never been the type to beg a man to love you, but eight years of repressed emotion and unanswered questions had finally broken free from your bones.

"You got it all wrong, baby. I'm an old man. You deserved more than to be reduced to some housewife. Could've never had the career you do now with me holding you back."

"Don't pretend you did this for me, Joel."

Suddenly, your heart broke for the woman he had left back in Austin. His wife, the mother of his child. Is that all he saw in her?

"There was a time that I thought you were wonderful. I would hang off your every word, seek your approval in everything I fucking did. And it broke me. The day you told me I was useless - I hear it in the back of my mind every fucking day."

He was shaking his head, muttering it ain't like that softly under his breath.

"Then you come all the way to New York, to my restaurant in the middle of service, acting like you're the reason I am where I am now?"

"I was in town, thought it was the right thing to do. I wanted to see you. I-"

"It's always what you want, Joel. The doting wife. The accolade. You're pathetic. I hope your wife comes to her senses and leaves you, and for the sake of your kid, I pray they grow up to be nothing like you."

Weeks passed in flashes of numbness since Joel's fleeting visit.

For the first time in years, you slept soundly through the night. When the other chefs invited you for drinks, you accepted.

Soon, you laughed and drank too much wine without the aftermath of soaking your pillow in tears.

In moments of stillness, your voice was the only one you could hear, and it was kind. You treated yourself as you treated those around you, taking the time to care for yourself again.

The New York Times published their article on the first week of February. You arrived at the kitchen just as dawn peaked over the skyline, only to be greeted by the entirety of the kitchen staff.

That morning, expensive French champagne flowed freely and the article, written by Helen Anderson, was framed and hung above the door to the kitchen. The headline read:

A New Precedent Is Set In Greenwich Village.

The day fluttered by in flurries of pride, each other ringing through the kitchen with a joyful urgency. Phones buzzed frantically from pockets, messages of congratulations you would pick up after service.

At around 12pm, the UPS delivery man arrived at the back of the kitchen, holding out a tablet for a signature for a bouquet of flowers resting against the doorway.

"Chef of the hour, these are for you!" Sabrina skipped through the kitchen, blue hydrangeas and gypsophila outstretched toward you.

You cradled the bouquet before setting them down in your cupboard of an office. A small, cream card poked out of the side of the arrangement. Messy handwriting scrawled across both inner sides of the folded card.

Sweetheart,

I'm sorry I never found the words to tell you how I feel. I'm a miserable old man who's smoked too many cigarettes and never known a good thing in front of me.

You never needed me, but I needed you. I'll never forget the first time you walked into my kitchen. I'm a coward, and I should've told you I loved you all those years ago.

I'm sorry for treating you the way I did. I know I'm in no position to ask any favours, but please don't make the mistakes I did. Hell, you're too intelligent to live as foolishly as I did, anyway.

Hope you don't mind, Helen is a friend of mine. Told me a couple of days ago how your place is the best she's eaten in New York since Bourdain. Wanted to make sure these arrived on time; God knows I never could've.

Yours,

Joel

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, desperately rummaging around in your pocket for your phone.

Amidst the excitement of the morning, you had entirely neglected the copious buzzing of messages and alerts. Unlocking your phone, your eyes glazed over the most recent notification on your home screen:

Time Magazine Michelin chef, Joel Miller, dies at Austin home aged 57.