#good in terms of how she goes about green

[enpr-ss]

MOUNT GEM IS SO TRUE LOL. I eagerly await the return of GeminiSlay. SHE GOT A CAMEL!!!!! An unholy screech left my mouth!!! I thought we were done reliving past series with last episode. Wait why would Tango remember Murder Camel? Did he get murdered by them? Wow actually EVERYONE remembers the Murder Camel.

That cow spawner coming in CLUTCH.

Etho: “Oh yeah? You’re gonna be tough now, finally?” OH MY GOD ETHO!!!! UNCALLED FOR.

Are Etho and Grian flirting or just trying to out pathetic each other??

Of course the warden spawns in right in front of the Decked Out 2 Court.

Who thought it was a good idea to go to a trial chamber during an increasingly hostile mob swap wild card. Why. Of course Scar dies to a vex after the evoker is taken care of.

I guess yellows are basically reds now since there aren’t any???? WAIT WHEN DID MARTYN KILL SKIZZ???? WHY???

How are these Minecraft professionals dying to mobs. This is EASIER than the snails and the food swap wild card. They have so much gear from TriviaBot by now. How.

Scar: "Etho, do you want a TNT mine cart?" Etho, jumping in excitement, shaking with glee, tail wagging and dancing from paw to paw: "yes yes!"

They’ve just given up on Skizz. He’s that loser son meme.

If Etho survives Grian, I really hope that he builds him a grave next to Skizz and Mumbo’s and gives another terrible speech just to complete the set.

Of course Etho goes and plays with the omnidirectional TNT tower launcher. Going back to his roots. That tower is going to cause more deaths I bet. HE LITERALLY TRIES TO ASSASSINATE GRIAN TWCE IT WAS SO SMOOTH.

The way Bdubs IMMEDIATELY ruins his unsolicited compliment from Etho by calling himself a Tuff Boy.

The lost opportunity from Bdubs and Etho to get a better horse from the wild card.

Gem’s so traumatized from Secret Life LOL. Being sacrificed to isn’t just glory and fun either. She and Joel are truly on a whole ‘nother genre. She’s just wistfully sighing at all the craziness that she’s not allowed to do as a green.

Joel about to pull a Ren and drop a life just to take revenge on Pearl (hypothetically.) He and Gem are so insane in their own ways.

She literally gave Impulse the saddle for the camel that he and Pearl come riding in later on to make her jealous… that backfired on them so hard LOL. And she’s the first one to think and get wolf armor instead of Pearl.

Who would have thought Gem would be more insane than Pearl in a Life Series, especially when she’s green and Pearl’s red/yellow? Pearl really rolled up on a murder camel with her new bae trying to make Gem jealous and Gem’s just playing hard to get and KILLING AT IT!!!! Gem expertly turns every verbal trap Pearl sets up back onto her and when Pearl tries to have the final word about going back to Impulse “who actually treats me right” Gem goads her back with the taunting “You scared?” bomb. And so Gem gets the final word in “You’re still not honorable.” (Incredibly biased / unreliable narrator of her) and saunters away, cutting Pearl off at her plaintive “Gem?” Absolutely fantastic how much more toxic and seemingly reasonable but actually unfair Gem is being. Everything has to go Gem’s way; if it’s not, she tries to reconstruct the situation to have it on her terms. And if she can’t, if Pearl points out the illogic, she just changes subject or moves the goalpost so that she’s in the right. Yanking on Pearl’s chain and playing hot and cold. MARVELOUS EDITING AND RPING. IM IN AWE.

Classic Shiny Duo Pearl: "-because Impulse actually treats me right." Gem, in the most provoking tone: "What? You don’t want to 1v1 me? You scared?" I went OOOOOOOOOH SNAP at that. And to call PEARL dishonorable is SUCH a slap in the face of what her Life Series character is all about. Absolutely stellar yandere behavior. Gem’s bringing up past seasons and Hermitcraft; she’s really playing into her Watcher / Void lore. I thought this was it, I didn’t realize there would be MORE INSANE INTERACTIONS. I AM IN A FEVER DREAM. I AM GLUED TO MY SCREEN.

Impulse: "...that was all I had." Joel: "He tried to creeper egg you, I saw it." Gem: "Wimp."

The Skizz shade that’s proven right within the session.

Literally speaks Pearl and Impulse’s shenanigans into existence. Her narrative sense is impeccable. BACK ON THE 2V1 BS AGAIN LOOOOOOOL. An excellent play by Gem, basically driving a wedge between Pearl and Impulse and isolating her from the player she’s trying to get to win Wild Life. Even spreading the “you don’t need Impulse you’re capable by yourself” message to Pearl’s allies. SHE TOOK 0 DAMAGE AHAHAHAH. Creeper eggs and webs??? Soooooo last episode. Reminding BigB of his propaganda agreement and PEARL IS THE FIRST ONE HE TELLS IT TO RIGHT THEN AND THERE. AMAZING COINCIDENCE. Pearl’s indignant yelp in the background! Truly the universe is just going Gem’s way.

I'm going to pass away from all this. ANT IN YOUR PANTS NAMED PEARL?!?!? GEM!!!! Gem: “You’re going to blow yourself up…” Double life flashbacks…..

Flaunting her encouragement of Skizz to kill her right in front of Pearl who’s trying to flaunt Murder Camel AGAIN with Tango. “Pearl is… thirsty!” WHY YOU GOTTA SAY IT LIKE THAT??? Making Pearl confirm that the kill was Skizz… devious. Truly she makes sure the world goes according to plan. Gem is the only person who’s happy to die FINALLY.

Ren: Are there any traps? Because I just watched two people die to traps. *narrowly avoids being blown up by Etho and Gem* THE COMEDIC IRONIC TIMING. THIS SERIES KEEPS ON DELIVERING.

Everyone’s panicking about the mob swap and Gem’s just crafting for her barn.

Gem: "[Grian]’s already having a bad day; just make it worse." LOL AND GRIAN IMMEDIATELY JOINS THE FAMILY AND REFUSES TO TAKE ANY BLAME FOR THE DEATH TOWER HAHAHAAH. The trial chamber banger music as he shows them the death tower is pure dissonant vibes but it weirdly does fit with Gem’s genre this series.

Universe goes perfectly for Gem in the same way that it hinders Pearl at every step. Billy got turned into a donkey; there goes all their cows, she can’t set up a dog army as easily as before.

The way she immediately abandons Impulse to chase after Gem. And this is really evident in Pearl’s POV but she’s always talking to Gem’s back; Gem doesn’t give her the decency for a face to face conversation. PEARL CUT OUT THE “WHAT YOU SCARED?” LINE LOOOOOL. And then the wild card kills the therapy camel and Gem just walks away HAHAHA. Pretty sure those creepers did more damage to her and Impulse than to Gem. Pearl’s trying so hard to kill Gem but she’s praising and admiring how smart and great and beautiful she is all the time, even in other POVs. To Gem’s face even. Simply can’t help herself. Completely unnecessary, might I add. Gem’s literally giving her the same advice she gives to all the incompetent assassins HAHA.

She’s goes "puppy!!! :D" And it instantly DIES IN FRONT OF HER HAHAHA.

Basically flaunting her new murder buddy Tango; the one who killed Joel multiple times LOL. While Gem deliberately encourages Skizz right in front of them. The way that Tango and Pearl both groan in disgust at that. And surprisingly I think Tango’s windcharge was the best attempt so far. Back to the 2v1 thing HAHA. And Pearl has to hear Skizz’s success right as it happens.

She got the totem!!!! Truly the Queen of Decked Out 2.

She’s so sad about the murder camel AHHAH. And of course the raid fails because the universe just likes to see Pearl suffer.

Omg she gave the totem to Impulse. PEARL!!!!

Pearl and Impulse embarked on a trapping adventure and immediately u-turned bravely when the mob swap happened LOL.

Pearl still on her pathetic wet puppy arc. Cannot get a single trap to work; it injures her and her allies instead.

Etho, Grian, and Pearl being the “cheaters” of this season was NOT what I expected.

Joel: "-kinda cruel but also hilarious." If that isn’t the theme of this series then I don’t know what is

Of course Grian puts the name Big and Bloop; he's still haunted by Mumbo. Scar really hanging around Grian a lot this episode

The sheer disbelief at Etho naming the warden and Etho playing this wildcard right. Grian leaves Skizz alone for one second and he's attacking wardens and dying to BigB’s creeper web and walking in the sky on a one-block bridge.

Bloop is the PERFECT name for an iron golem in remembrance of Mumbo.

OF COURSE THERE WAS GOING TO BE AN EVOKER AND VEXES WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IN THE TRIAL CHAMBER!!?!?

Why did Jimmy fall for the bait. It didn’t take long did it.

0 grief for Skizz and instantly moving on to the nearest friendly. During the cheery jingley music as well. Literally said Skizz Issue!!!

Oh the illusioner! That’s a rare one. Yep, called the stuck in the ender pearl stasis chamber issue last episode.

The way Jimmy nearly swore at BigB. And how Scar casually offers to go red to match his teammates. Even did Grian’s "uh-oh! spaghettio!" phrase.

Jimmy just got two-shotted by Bloop that was on his leash. His outrage at Skizz’s carelessness is matched by everyone else on the server.

Lizzie’s “Do you hear what I hear?” sounds like a professional voice acting line in a horror genre omg.

The group delight in Skizz's final death!

Bdubs: "You don’t even have a bow…. Alright then go play Minecraft." He has the same tone of voice, matter-of-factly stating how Tango broke the rules by windcharging Skizz, as when he did to Scar in Limited Life when he TNT minecarted AFK Grian and Cleo.

Tango must still be riding the redemption of the previous episode because he’s noticing things before anyone else; figured out the mechanic and how to stay safe from early on; experienced the butt scooting murder buddy camel; didn’t get caught in any of the 5 traps (especially Lizzie’s), and spectacularly won his beef with Skizz. He was basically involved with all the major things and had a front row seat of the funny events this episode (Skizz and Martyn). All because today is his turn to be leader. Tango Villain Arc was what he needed all along.

Of course Tango fell into the obvious hole in the bridge.

Of course it was Tango windcharging Skizz off. Absolutely no one was surprised. Foretold and lampshaded. Not even a dramatic foreshadowing - it’s just a simple logical conclusion. Twice now Tango windcharged that same location and Grian’s teammate died. Twice now that Tango killed Skizz against the rules by making him fall to his death when he shouldn’t be so high in the first place. Twice now that Skizz died from someone windcharging him AT THE EXACT SAME LOCATION. Truly how many times must we teach you this lesson old man.

Martyn's windcharge on Skizz with 100% hilarity and 0 regrets LOL. HE JUST WALKED INTO LIZZIE TRAP FULLY AWARE AND EXPLODED TO BITS. ETHO SAID THE “I WISH HE WAS BETTER AT THE GAME” AT THE FUNERAL LOL

THE TIMING OF MARTYN FALLING FOR LIZZIE’S TRAP!!

BIGB GOING FULL REVENGE ON SKIZZ WITH THE SAME TRICK AT THE SAME PLACE LOOOOL. AND THEN HE DIES TO WILDCARD BECAUSE HIS ARMOR IS OFF TOO LOOOOOL. THE KARMA. He was SO RIGHT to be cautious during the mob swap - the moment he relaxes a vindicator spawns in and just executes him immediately. Incredible irony.

Even Skizz knew it was a bad idea bad he kept on doing it. His bad luck really does rub off on everyone else. Wait Martyn got Skizz to red with a windcharge? And Skizz didn’t learn his lesson??? Bruh. And of course he attacked the warden and immediately regretted it.

Impulse a professional 3rd wheeler this season: Pearl and Gem, 3G.

The poor inventory management is going get someone killed I reckon. Wait is the random ender crystal replacing a mob actually a thing or was it just BigB?

[crowbasils]

random doodles

[nebulaafterdark]

The Blacks & The Greens

Summary: A marriage of convenience is not enough to bridge the gap between their warring houses. Y/N and Aegon pay the price for his crown. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Roughish sex, Targcest, angst, depictions of stillbirth.

Y/N and Aegon marry out of convenience. To keep peace, to mend a house broken long before they were born.

Aegon does not mind bedding her, she is pretty enough. He does not mind watching her swell with his heir, he enjoys it even, paying special attention to Y/N as she grows.

“Does it hurt?” He wonders, tracing a little hand or foot across the skin of her abdomen.

“No,” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over his hair.

Aegon kisses her bump, bidding her and his child a good night before making his way down to the pleasure house.

Their first child, a son named Laenor, is Aegon’s pride and joy. His heart swells with something close to love for his wife, the first time he sees bits of her in their son’s features.

Y/N loves Laenor, carrying him about, showing him the Red Keep and all her favorite places in it. Aegon joins them, on occasion, sharing quiet moments with his little family.

Outside of Laenor, they exchange few words. Refusing to share apartments, but Aegon sneaks into her room more often than not, after nights spent in the company of other women.

“I could never fuck you like that.” He tells his wife, words slurred from his cups.

“I would let you.” Y/N assures him.

“You make my heart ache.” Aegon admits, “I hate when you do that.”

“I do not mean to,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon rests a hand over her beating heart. “I know.”

————————————————————————

When asked for another heir, they are more than happy to provide. Exchanging sloppy kisses and sweet words, but never love, it couldn’t be love. Not with the twisted, possessive way of it.

“Beg,” Aegon demands, fucking her roughly enough that air is punched from her lungs with each snap of his hips.

“Please,” Y/N wails, clinging to him desperately.

“Please what?”

“Fill me with your heir, I wish to bear you a hundred children.”

Aegon grins, brushing sweat damp hair from her forehead. “I adore you, you know?”

Her eyes shoot open, meeting his.

“My pretty, bastard wife.”

The princess’s breath hitches, her cunt clenching around him.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

There is no point in denying it, she likes the way he says it. The way he acknowledges it without insulting her. “Yes.”

“I do not care who sired you. You are mine now, bastard. Mine to fuck and breed. Mine to love, until we are both cold in our graves.”

Love? “Aegon?”

“You heard me well and clear.”

“I love-”

Aegon seals his mouth over hers, swallowing the words. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, with big fat tears welling up in her eyes.

“You hold it inside until you burst or pour it over my cock as you milk me, but you do not say it.” Aegon sneers. He couldn’t be loved, he wouldn’t be, by her least of all.

The princess nods, allowing him to cradle her head against his shoulder. Whispering those forbidden words over and over, while she is never allowed to speak them. Her heart aches.

Like every other aspect of their marriage, this too is complicated.

————————————————————————-

Y/N’s term is nearing its end when her grandsire passes and Aegon is forced to usurp her mother’s throne. With blood running down her legs before Aegon is crowned in the dragon pit, she is rushed swiftly away to labor in her chambers.

Now that Aegon is king, he is allowed at her side without contest. Watching as their second child is brought into the world. The babe does not cry, something inside him knows….

The grand Maester is called to work on the child, a sweet little girl with silver hair.

Y/N begins pushing with the second, her tear stained face pleading for him.

Aegon goes to her, because that is all he knows how to do. He goes to her and holds her hand.

“Aegon,” she cries.

“Shhhh,” he hushes her.

“Will the babe live?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, “I need you to calm yourself, dearest.”

“I can’t.”

“We must focus on this babe,” Aegon brushes a hand over her belly. “They need their mother to provide them safe passage into the world.”

“I want to see her.” Y/N cries, searching for her child.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.” Aegon says, “so terribly sorry.”

Y/N bares down, sobbing as she does. The child is safe within her, the same cannot be said after it enters this cruel world. “I do not want to lose my child.”

“I will give you another,” Aegon promises, knowing that a thousand children can never make up for the one they’ve lost. “As many as you wish. Please, allow me to get you through this. You must live, our son needs you, I need you.”

“You must keep pushing my queen.”

Y/N brings her third child into the world, expecting the worst. But the little girl cries.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon lets his head fall against his wife’s chest. “Thank the gods.”

The child is laid against her.

“Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, my Queen.”

Aegon looks to his wife, their perfect babe in her arms. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, choking on her grief and joy and love for him.

“Say it, my heart.” Aegon feels it on the tip of her tongue, “it’s alright.”

“I love you,” Y/N laments, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“Our babe-”

“None of this is your fault. Please know that.”

Y/N nods, not entirely convinced.

The King and Queen spend days in that bed, mourning their loss, unaware of Rhaenyra’s similar suffering across the sea.

There is no war so hateful as a war between kin, they will all pay the price for it; the Blacks and the Greens.

[seventeenpins]

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐞.

wc; 10k | part one

lil bit of submissive!h. implied age gap! don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Fingers dripping in saliva swiftly zip Harry back up, your rising chest settles down from its previous movements with heels taking steps back to create space between your teacher.

And as he swallows heavily with hands going to his belt and looping it around his waist, the door knob is turning and eerily creaking open, little time to comprehend the sudden intrusion.

Harry tries to focus on fixing himself back up but can’t help catch sight of your movements.

Palms swiping across your skirt heavily, tongue peaking out of your mouth to catch whatever aftertaste of him lapped around your lips just as you lean over to grab your things. His boss is stepping through the door making the atmosphere strained yet, that sight alone has Harry wanting to bend you over right then and there.

“Oh! Hello miss, surprised to see you!”

Wobble of a smile tugs on the ends of Harry’s lips, but bunny, she’s beaming. Flush of pink roaming amongst her cheeks accentuating her happy smile, steps swaying with subtle lifts of beat as if not touching him a few seconds ago.

“Yes! Well, I was just asking Mr. Styles this question about Marie Antoinette, our term paper is coming up.” Voice not wavering with eye contact stern when she passes him.

And Harry, he can’t help but notice how quick you are to lie; how you’re so good at it. Almost too easy to believe but you’re doing it, because the expression over Mr. Bennett's face is one of being intrigued.

“Ah, yes! Marie Antoinette, so misunderstood.” His body stepping back as he holds the door open. “I’m sure you will do well. I read your piece in the school paper; I must applaud you for your insight on Maslow, I never would’ve thought you’re familiar with his work.”

“Yes, I am. His argument on self-actualization is said in such great detail, his work is truly something.” Innocence shining through your expression of doe eyes and nodding head. The fact he’s even commenting on your published column only adds to your sweet image. “I should really get going now, goodbye Mr. Bennett.”

Harry’s thankful you don’t acknowledge him as you leave. Beer belly principal nodding his head stiffly as he goes to close the door.

Now without you by his side does he begin to sweat; knuckles flexing, jaw tensing, and lips still smiling tightly. He tries to reel it in for the sake of his job that he put on the line.

“Such a lovely girl,” He compliments as Harry makes his way towards his desk. Fingers fumbling over his paperwork looking for the report.

“Y —Yes, an excellent student.” Harry sighs once your name comes into view. He twists towards the gray haired man trying to conceal his worked up nerves.

“Thank you!” He smiles, head bowing delighted that it’s finished before stepping closer.

Mr. Bennett’s gaze is heavy as it roams over Harry. The nervous twitch of his nostril, diverating eyes and shallow breath. Inspecting every inch of him looking to catch anything off about Harry’s appearance.

“May I ask what her question was?”

His fingers curl in on each other at the sudden request catching him off guard. His boss can probably see the distress written all over his face, especially with the way he clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, green eyes squinting to look at the principal with a confused glare.

“The question about Marie Antoinette, what was it?” Mr. Bennett responds, his bushy brows perk up as he leans on the desk.

The charm that bunny has, the one that graced this very room now leaves it empty, having him hanging by a thread. You managed to get away with your lie, but Harry, he has to continue it thinking fast on his feet to catch up.

“Uh, Marie Antoinette… her uh, saying…” He clears his throat, hand raising to his mouth coughing tensely trying to get rid of the strain on his throat. “Let them eat cake, I was explaining to her that it was just hear-say, actually coined from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a book created way before the existence of Marie.”

The older man relaxes, tongue swiping across his dry lips as he nods once more. Satisfied smile stretches deeper amongst his features, index finger tapping into the wood of his desk as he leans off.

“Just testing…” Wink dropping before he’s turning around on his heels. Harry relaxes tremendously with shoulders subsiding and heart easing in pace as he watches him retreat to the door.

“Don’t need any new rumors, especially with parents' interviews coming up, now do we?” Mr. Bennett turns towards him, gaze running down Harry’s frame, stern sight yet delighted grin.

“Of course not sir.” He replies, nodding his head as he tracks the door swinging shut.

Harry can’t help the way his body twists around, hands combing through his hair as he tries his best to refrain from hitting himself.

How stupid can he be? That was too close of a call. If you were on your knees any longer he would’ve been packed up, sent away, and forbidden to even show his face again.

If you weren’t so passive about the situation he would have given up the facade and begged to keep his job… yet, you made it so easy covering up the moment with a shining grin and persuasive small talk. This time you both got lucky, but what about next time?

Should he even think there is one? Is he crazy to think that? Probably. He shouldn’t be fascinated or find you appealing, but he does.

He wants the sweet taste of you back on his lips… and the feeling of your hands drawing down him with that warm wet mouth just covering him all over. God, he’ll do anything to feel you again and that’s fucked up to think, but now that he’s finally had a taste he wants more. He can’t help but want more.

Harry knows it’s foolish, purely stupid, but even you yourself said it; he’s your daddy and you’re his bunny.

And, you do what you always do, be a tease.

You’re so tempting it’s hard not to notice. With your cherry lips and adorable giggle heard when passing in the hall.

Your skirt is rolled up even higher now, breast more sheen through your button up, and when you sit in front of him in class always focused with tongue glossing over your lips. It reminds him of the weeks prior, how his bunny sucked him up deliciously… how you loved every moment with dirty words and welcoming throat.

He can’t get you off his mind bunny, you’re all he thinks about in his mundane life of teaching and lacrosse. You make things so exciting, so thrilling, he likes knowing the fact he finally has your attention.

You continue to dip your back letting him see your panties, a different colour everyday of the week; sometimes lacy, sometimes plaid, but either way he enjoys the view. Harry especially likes it when you begin signing your nickname at the top of your page for tests, risky, but it entringes him even more.

It’s like right now, your eyes are following his every move when speaking about The French Revolution. Showing how attentive and perfect you are. He tries to ignore your plush mouth and drawing gaze, but he can’t help to float back over your appearance for a little while.

He wraps up the end of the class thirty minutes early, introducing the homework to be done by tomorrow and also suggesting if needing any help for the upcoming paper, that he’s all ears.

And of course, his bunny is by his side. Captivating smile shining to the bounce of your mary jane’s. Harry bites down on his lip, catching sight of your thigh highs and prominent tits. You sure know how to get his attention.

“Mr. Styles,” Long drawl of his name singing in your sweet voice. Leather clad foot resting along the heel of your shoes when leaning into the desk.

“I couldn’t understand this excerpt from yesterday.”

He knows you're lying, knows you’re way too smart not to understand something so easily explained in the textbook, but he can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him when leaning forward in his chair.

As you place the book onto the desk he catches sight on the folded paper stuck between the spine. His throat clears, eyes shifting towards you who smiles softly at him.

His hands peel away from his arm rest and collects the thick book in his palms, shoulders turning towards you looking down at him curiously.

“This part over here, it states Marie betrayed France by telling the Austrian invaders, why would she do that?”

As the words you speak trail out as foolishness your finger points to the large text box pertaining to your question till it soon slides between the middle and lets the note fall down on the desk. Harry watches it all, his eyes trained on your finger dragging across the rest of the glossy page with fake confusion.

You want his attention so bad, look at you.

Leaning over his desk with flirty gaze and teasing smile, your breasts sparkling in his vision with the way your back curves. It’s sickening how you get away with it, how no one realizes how persuading you are at this moment but him.

“Well, yes, she betrayed the battle plans of the French in hope that they would be defeated and the monarchy restored.” He responds swiftly, hands closing the book while turning to look at you. “Does that answer your question?”

Plump lips curve against the beaming smile of your teeth, slow bob of your head lightly shifting your breasts that Harry can’t help but lick his lip at the sight. Your hand reaches out and accepts the book, hugging it into your chest before stepping away.

“Yes, thank you sir.” Heels retreating back to your desk in a sway of suggestive hips.

Harry watches you take your seat, skirt twisting with eyes tracking back to him, another tug of your lips following before you’re opening your textbook and starting the assigned work.

And he waits a few moments, letting himself look busy flipping through his agenda of drills for the lacrosse practice this afternoon. Fingers fiddling with the ends of the page before taking the note up and unraveling it.

You’re all I can think about…

His heart goes all warm, stomach clenching and veins pulsing to his dick. The neat cursive written in the middle of the torn piece of paper is a kept secret between you and him. Harry can't help but look up at you.

Completely focused on the question at hand, brows pushed together and pen breaking through your lips. You’re concentrated on keeping up your grades, you’re perfect image.

Harry has to sit back in his chair and simply just applaud you. You disguise your true self so well bunny, being the good girl that you are, the one you pretend to be.

But, it’s with his eyes trained on you does he catch Calie passing a note towards Finn. The red head laughs to himself over it before it’s passing behind him to Emmet. The telephone string of the paper from sender to receiver a mess between rushed hands.

He watches closely as it shifts throughout the room, polished nails or bitten ones taking it and passing it onto the next. From Emmet to Astrid, and then Bella to Gabriel until it’s being poked on the elbow of you.

Bunny? What’s this? Someone else on your mind and not him… you should know better than that. Who else races your mind if not him?

Harry can’t stop his nose from flaring as he sees you take it with a smile on your lips accepting the sheet.

“Y/N, would you like to share the note with the rest of the class.”

Your head picks up; eyes wide, fingers curling around the paper, and cheeks heating up noticing that you’re caught.

Snickers of students and grinning faces fill the air over the interruption of free time. They’re just as intrigued with who could’ve been the source just as much as Harry is.

“Hmm?” He continues, sight watching heavily on the way you bite your lip before looking between him and the note.

Your throat clears with fingers peeling it open, deep breath floating in the ruffle of chairs and whispers.

“Um, w —will you meet me after dinner tonight, Luca,” Voice wavering as you swallow heavily, sight catching between Harry and the blonde boy. He sits in the front right hand corner of the room shuffling in his seat, brows raised with the same expression written over his face like his bunny.

So, he’s the one who has your attention, not Harry who should be front and center. His own right wing of defense spending time with you. It’s comical and everyone in the room thinks it’s funny too.

Harry cracks his knuckles in the teasing atmosphere of you distraught that you got caught. You were just sweet talking your way with him minutes ago, and now your mind is elsewhere. Don’t you know better than that?

“Please remember that there will be no passing notes in my class.”

Your lashes flutter at him before turning to look at Luca. Chummy grin with back slouching against the chair, his eye drops into a wink that leaves you tugging your lips into a smirk.

You don’t care… of course you don’t. You have anyone that desires you hanging in front of your face by a thread while you pull the strings whenever bored.

Harry tries not to be mad, tries to reel in his nerves as you flash your eyes at the shaggy blonde as if it’s just the two of you. You’re so naughty toying with him.

This isn’t his bunny. The one who’s so attentive and pleasing. No, you’re doing more to prove how smart you truly are, the tease you love to be.

Thick blades of grass squish amongst the feet of intense movements. Cleats cutting through swiftly as they pick up from the bodies charging down the field, yellow tinged ball crossing in the air as blue and green jerseys drift by.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the trees rustling against the subtle wind from the spring breeze transitioning into the summer season. Colleagues roaming amongst the grounds on their own destinations to distinct quarters, or students still lounging in their uniforms watching the school team practice and you just so happen to be there.

Academy gym shorts with matching t-shirt relaxing on the field, badminton rackets by each of your friends as you giggle looking towards the team.

Harry can’t help his eyes glazing over your taunt frame. Perky backside and charming aura working for not only him, but the player on the team who just so happened to score in the scrimmage at hand.

He watches the way you smirk before turning to your friends who bump shoulders with you, teasing each other with pointed glaces and twisting feet.

Look at you, so happy to give your attention away; to show you have other options, one that leaves Harry jealous and fighting to regain focus.

“Alright, I’m calling it in.” Ed nods to him once checking his watch. That’s his cue to trail across the field while the head coach draws the team in.

The nylon of his pants swishes with each stride before he’s leaning down collecting the pylons. His body makes its way across the field picking up the yellow plastic, white lines shifting his version that he doesn’t realize he’s near you. Close enough to see your gleaming smile and hear little about the conversation in the group.

It’s when leaning down to pick up the equipment do your eyes catch on each other. Head swishing to the side as you smile happily. Your finger twirls the ends of your hair with body shifting against the grass as you ignore whatever words are being said.

Harry watches clearly the way your head twists around and slowly, but subtly nods towards the array of trees that comb over the grounds of the school. Your eyebrows raise in question before listening to your friends.

Was this your plan all along? With your friends too distracted with each other to realize your actions to lure him out there. Was this what you were plotting this whole time? Low waisted shorts and dreamy eyes simply directing him where to meet once practice is over.

You’re too good at this, too conceited and happy to get whatever you want. Even if you were just delighted to have Lucas' attention you still want more.

Harry trails his view off you when picking up the remaining equipment before joining the team for the cool down of the practice.

He puts all the pinneys and pylons together, palms securing everything in their respective bags until he’s tugging off towards the equipment room. His body carried him down the flight of stairs while looking out towards the window just parallel to the steps.

Harry watches your body stalking into the woods and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the end of his lips as he goes down the rest of the stones.

Leaves and sticks crunch below your Converse, fingers feeling over the light green blades that feels like velvet against the pad of your skin. The tug at the end of your lip is hard not to resist with your veins pulsing at what could possibly happen if you see Mr. Styles again.

This game of cat and mouse was your specialty, being able to have your way with teachers and peers so attractive and delectable. You could always tell with their breath catching and shaky voice that it was right to purpose the match.

Your perfect grades and kind attitude shines over your deeper thoughts, your favorite desires, the ones that have you tugging your way into the forest of the school right now.

Your head twists up to catch shadows of the trees as your steps still venture out east of the school, far from the usual make out spots on the property.

Will he even come? The way he turned away from you on the field was giving he wasn’t even interested, and all because of Luca and his dumb note; the one you got called out on.

You like having your secrets unknown to each other, all your lies being covered with pearly white teeth and bending spine. You were subtle with handing your own note off to your favorite teacher, if it all went well then you were certain he would show up to meet. But your boy toy around school had other plans when deciding to get you tangled in your tactics.

Stuttering and looking up at Mr. Styles caught in the aftermath of flirty eyes and bouncing breasts. You hate that he had ruin your chances, you’re not quite sure when you’ll be near your teacher again without it being so obvious from friends and peers. It was such a risky game that you loved to play despite having yourself caught up last semester.

It’s a good thing you’re so good at batting your lashes and talking so sweetly you managed to get away, but now it was a tab left in your mother’s mind and it certainly wounded your step-father. Your right hand goes to your mouth and begins to chew on your nail from the anxiety festering from the memories. You need to be sharper and have all your little white lies arranged better, you can’t manage to slip up again.

Steps finally come to a halt, body twisting around to rest along the wide tree with unruly bushes growing around it. Perfect. Your back slouches against the stumb as your hand tears away from your mouth.

You could barely see the field or the school's architecture from your place. You can only hope Mr. Styles would find you if he was still interested.

He has to be… he still stares at you longingly especially on your lips. Bet he’s remembering your moment together, the one that you can’t stop thinking about. How he made your throat swell and voice all raspy… how you had to pretend in front of the principal you didn’t just swallow your teacher's load.

You want more of him. He’s all you think about when Luca would he kissing down your neck or when your step-father is in your ear whispering how much he misses you, Mr. Styles was the only one on your mind when everything would be happening.

When the thick Bradford accent on the other end of the phone describes everything he would do, all you can think of is your teacher and what he would do in his place. Where his hands would spread amongst your body, or where his lips would find themselves on your skin.

The cracking of branches brings you out of your thoughts, your fingers running over the ends of your shorts as you see brown hair come into sight.

So he did show up, trialing after you like you thought he would. The ends of your lips curl up as you relax deeper into the wood. Mr. Styles continues his steps into the space, his eyes darting around until you whistle sweetly to catch his attention.

“Fancy seeing you around,” You perk up, feet crossing over each other as you watch him make his way over.

His body covered in a black tracksuit certainly making him appealing with his bulky frame. Humming softly your tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. The thoughts of him manhandling you from your teasing ways makes your clit begin to swell.

“Bunny…” He greets with hands wrapping around your waist. Tall frame pushing you deeper into the stumb as he looks over your face.

“Daddy…” You utter, peering up at him through doe eyes, the same ones that have him falling every time.

“I missed you,” Whispering up at him sweetly. Your hands leave your shorts to pull at the band of his track pants.

Those words have the teacher surveying your every feature with fingers curling tighter around your hips. Mr. Styles is so handsome with his grainy stubble and board chest. The way he’s pining you into the tree has you moaning quietly as you straighten your back.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” His words send a wave of annoyance through you. The eye roll you find yourself doing is completely unintentional as your head knocks into the wood.

“That wasn’t my fault,” You huff, fingers snaking along his boxers while looking up at him.

“Oh, really?” Playful cheer in the teacher’s voice as his palms venture down your hips and feel over your cheeks. The motions so possessive from his huge hands that the moan that trails from you has him groaning as well.

“It wasn’t, because you know…” Mr. Styles' face draws closer with each word as he towers over you. “You’re all I can think about.”

The pads of your fingers gaze across his happy trail, mouth parting slightly as you lift yourself onto your toes closer to him, the taste that you’ve been craving just inches away.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

His teasing tone and rough hands have you begging just to close the space around him. It’s why your nails leave scratches against the older man’s skin, whining high in your throat so desperate for him.

“All the time,” Warmth of your movements draw deeper down his pelvis. “I think about you when I shower in the morning… touching myself thinking you're there with me.”

Deep growl rumbles through Mr. Styles, his teeth biting into his lip as he steps closer. His hips parallel with yours as you curl your hand around his cock, thick bead of pre-cum smearing along his crown as you keep your gaze strong.

“Having me up against the wall, water between us… daddy, I always imagine how good you would fuck me.” Torturing him with your lewd thoughts whenever alone and thinking about your favorite person.

“Just stretching me out all nice and wide… you’re so big… all nice and thick, I still remember how you fucked my throat.” The older man can’t stop himself from landing a furious smack against your ass. Tiny squeak leaving you as you fall to your heels.

“What else do you think about princess?” He ask, lips so dangerously close your breath is wavering.

Your hand grips tighter around Mr. Styles cock, his hips inching closer to you as he palms over your backside. Happy would be an understatement about how you feel at the moment. He’s finally here and under your spell again, just the way you like him.

“I think about you beneath me…” Tongue skimming across your flesh as you slide down him with ease, the fluid drawing from him makes the twist of your movements much easier as he leans in deeper.

“Kissing down my stomach, feeling up my thighs, licking where I want you the most,” Lashes flutter as his mouth inches closer and closer to you. “Don’t you think about my pussy daddy?”

Those very words have him capturing your lips with his. The muted taste of peppermint lingering along his tongue rubs against yours, spit being exchanged with haste as he can’t help his fingers from slinking between your thighs and feeling over the very place you want him.

He’s rubbing the spot there, rough ends of his digits massaging over your clothed area. It’s harsh and swift as they draw down your folds, an electric surge tingling down your spine feeling him around you all over again.

Mr. Styles is all rugged with his growing beard and bulky frame. He could easily manhandle you any kind of way but he treats you so delicately. You couldn’t imagine how he’ll spread you nice and wide, it’s all that’s been on your mind when you pass by him in the hall or stare up at him in class. Those very thoughts that have you breaking away from the kiss with a whimper.

“How I’ll feel around you…” Fingers contracting around his length as you bow your eyes at him slowly. “How I’ll stretch around you…” Lips curling in on each other savoring the taste of him on your buds. “How I taste… don’t you think about that a lot Mr. Styles… how my pussy would taste on your tongue?”

And he’s groaning in his throat, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his hands leave their position and drape to their previous one. His head cranes down to press wet kisses along the expanse of your neck, your hips being held strongly against the bark.

“Yes bunny… I do.” Your head turns against the wood from the adrenaline coursing through, his breath drapes warm and heavy amongst your skin that you moan at the feel.

In his new position you retrieve your hands and place them on either side of his face, your eyes watching closely as he breathes over your belly button with sight connecting to yours.

His hands drag up and down the expanse of your stomach before his fingers catch onto the band of your shorts, head wandering deeper down and staring up at you while doing so.

The lined cotton shorts that once grace your hips draw down swiftly with your panties, they pool around your feet with his hands drawing back up your naked thighs, feverish pecks roaming over your abdomen until pressing into your love handles.

“Oh daddy… won’t you make me feel good?” Fingers curling into his hair and ruffling with it. You always wanted to do that. Feel his hair rubbing against your stomach and kisses littering your inner thigh, it’s finally happening and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mr. Styles is looking up at you, sun highlighting the green in his eyes and his long lashes that blink up. And with the soft breeze whisking itself through the forest do you whimper at the feeling of it passing through your lower half.

“Yes, bunny.” Said so deep and husky that your fingers scratch along his scalp. His hand that dragged along your thigh urges your leg up, you don’t hesitate to prop it up your side with his help to keep it there.

Mr. Styles breath floats along your inner thighs, light smears of his wet lips pressing along the skin that you whine high in your throat. You don’t know how much time you have, but you doubt anyone is looking for either of you or going further past the school grounds to come look. You’re sure you’re safe but still, there’s always the possibility of someone seeing or finding you.

It’s why all movements are so rushed yet lucid, his tongue dragging sloppily along your thighs as he moves towards your pussy. A relieving sigh leaving when his tongue skims over your folds, eyes still locked on each other as his grip tightens over you.

“Daddy,” Soft call of his name trailing out as he leans in again to lick you, a pleasant hum vibrates over you that your eyes bat slowly at the feel.

The delicious drag of his tongue lying flat against your pussy as he draws his head up in lengthy strides makes your foot bend in your Converse. This is what you’ve always dreamt about; his tongue eating you out, and it’s even better that you tell he’s enjoying it with his fingers scratching into your skin all hungry.

“Like how I taste, daddy?”

A deep groan pulsates throughout you to answer which has your head knocking back into the tree. Sweet moan falling from your lips as your knee against the stumb bends a bit, pussy sinking deeper against Mr. Styles tongue as he draws up your folds.

One hand leaves his curls and goes towards the one holding your thigh up, his head rocking up and down in rush strides that you begin following his movements. Wet muscle flexing against every swivel and drag, his forest orbs loving the way your lips fall apart and moan from his touch. He lets you take charge and ride his tongue just the way you like if that's the attention you need… the attention you deserve.

His tongue drags up along your clit and in the moment you don’t hesitate to tug his head back and circle your waist along him. The width of his tongue swallowing your clit up so beautifully that it’s better than everything you imagined, and the fact he’s a grown man letting you ride his face, god he’s the best daddy ever.

Your head leans forward, teeth biting down on your lip as you gently move him against your circling hips.

“You’re so good to me daddy.”

Mr. Styles' eyes close slowly even more aroused from your words and the fact you taste like honey. His nails leave crescent moons into skin as he lets you drag yourself all over him. Just as hot as it is to be getting off using him, Harry was a slave to your tactics getting off to your sweet nectar and melodic voice dripping in sex.

Between the slurps of him eating your pussy to the moans expelling every time you swivel your hips harder against him, the scene is one of greed. Pure old fashioned greed of wanting nothing more than to ruin each other. It’s such a dangerous game but it’s so fun, luring him in and pulling at his heart strings all because it was entertaining to you.

“Like the way I ride you?” His tongue tenses against your movements, his head bobbing shallowly that leaves you to let out a breathless sigh.

And to think after calling you out hours ago when catching you with someone else Mr. Styles is here right now eating your pussy, and loving it.

He’s the daddy you need, the one that goes over and beyond to prove where your eyes should be focused on. He’s really the best, doing all this just to prove to you the place he wants in your life.

“Do you want me to ride your cock like this?” Lazy smirk tugging at the end of your lips with brow raising slightly, your motions losing momentum as you look down at him.

His mouth flexes against your folds, lips pressing open kisses back along your thighs. Wet juices dragging along your skin as your grip over him relaxes. Your thigh falls lucid by your leg, his touch drawing back up your skin as he finds his way up your body.

“Bunny,” Mr. Styles breathes against your clothed stomach. The sweet exchange that once coats his mouth disappears once dragging along the shirt. His lips trailing back up your neck and pressing onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how much time we have left.”

You shake your head confidently, hands now drawing up his shoulders and stepping closer to him. You’re sure there’s nothing to worry about, almost positive you had enough time to have him the way you want.

“Please…” Lips pout slightly as you get him to peer into your eyes, your canine tooth catching on your lip before you’re smiling innocently at him. “I’m all nice and tight for you, don’t you want to feel daddy?”

Mr. Styles groans lowly, his face shifting amongst yours as he slots your lips against each other. The sweet taste of yourself flows along your tongue and you love every bit of it knowing that he adores it even more at the moment. The juices that you expel with the mix of your saliva, it’s a delicious brew that you're sure he wants forever from the way his fingers grip onto your hips.

He’s thought of this moment so many times yet can’t believe it’s happening, and the words you speak, he’s nearly coming from the sweet sound and the way you say his name.

Tongues dance along each other in a rushed frenzy not knowing how much longer it’ll be till this moment happens again. Your lips feel over the soft pricks of his stubble, hands drawing along his chest and moaning at the possessiveness over the kiss. His tongue flows against yours with such dominance you moan against him before pulling away with a bite at his lip.

“Just lay down for me, please?” You ask all sweet and doe eyed, nails dotting against the nylon of his jacket as you stare up at him.

And he’s unsure, with sight looking between you and the scenery around. A gentle sigh escapes as he nods his head lightly. “Okay.”

The grin that shines across your lips is bright and cheery, your eyes watching him closely as his knees begin to bend and you don’t hesitate to follow. Your hands fitting themselves on each side of his head, hips resting along his stomach with your face becoming parallel to each other.

“Been thinking about this since I met you.” Head leaning forward and dotting kisses against his chin, his hands by his side tug at the top of his track pants to pull them down.

“Looking at you in class… thinking about you fucking me on my desk.” Rush breath combing over his neck as you litter him with love. “Or yours.” Giggle trailing out so adorably that Mr. Styles moans at the sound. His hand draws away from the fabric of his joggers and lands a scolding slap amongst your ass.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, fingers spreading you wide while rocking you over his erection.

“Only for you daddy.”

Leaning back on your knees, your hands slide towards your t-shirt and tug it over your head. Your breasts on display as you balance yourself amongst his waist, arm going behind your back and palming his cock.

“Want you inside me.” You say while blindly releasing him from his confines and twisting him slowly.

Mr. Styles rests on his elbows as he watches you raise up, the beautiful sight of his bunny bare and ready to take him, this is too good to be true.

His teeth poke out from his mouth and catch on his lips, stomach dipping with heavy breaths as he watches you lower yourself. Your puffy folds spread wide as his cock fills you up slowly, long whine tearing from your throat as he swallows you up inch by inch. The stretch of him has your body leaning forward with other hand curling around his jacket anxiously.

“Jesus.” Mr. Styles breathes with hand steadying your hips as he leans up, the tight feel of you around him makes his fingers curl deeper into your skin while you sink further onto his lap. “Bunny, fuck.” Your knees clench around his waist as you sigh pleasantly.

Plush walls nestle his throbbing cock gracing your sweet spot so heavenly that you’re shuddering against him. Your hips rubbing against his pelvis only increasing the fraction that has you crying out in satisfaction.

“Daddy, you fill me up so good.” Both hands gather up his arms and to the nape of his neck, your mouths lean forward breathing in each other's moans.

“You’re so tight bunny.” He follows your motions as your head knocks into his forehead.

You hum with your mouth going dry, eyes batting at him slowly as you find the strength to rise up on your knees and slowly grind yourself. Delicious spread of your pussy accepting every stride of him.

The combination of his spit and your juices leaves a squelching sob sound every time your hips meet. Walls flexing around every loving rhythmic stroke, whine high in the back of your throat as your fingers press deeply into his skin.

“So sweet, so dirty, just the way I like you.” Mr. Styles breathes over your lips. Your mouth catching his filthy words and swallowing them up loving the taste.

His grip over your hips guides your movements, eyes hanging low and watching every bounce of yourself riding him to the way your nose twitches. The thickness of him swells every crevice that succumbs to him filling you up. It’s leaving you numb with pleasure allowing him to draw you down in repetitive motions.

“I love the way you stretch around me, bunny” His lips curving the slope of your nose when you bow your head.

This moment was more than your dreams. The man that’s been fucking you in your every thought now helping you slide down his dick with such ease. Telling you just how he likes you, and how he loves the way you expand around him, he’s the best teacher. Your favorite one.

Lips collide in messy motions, slipping across each other with moans and groans trailing out. The hands of both of you sinking deeper and deeper as you both chase your highs.

The crinkles of leaves shift under your bodies, shadows of trees gracing across your bouncing breasts as Mr. Styles continues to guide your movements. Mouths catching along each other hurriedly with thighs twitching to curl deeper against him, the shock of stabs running down your neck causes your spine to bend at the feeling.

“Daddy… m’gonna…” Mouth parting away from him as your forehead drags along his cheek, breath coming out rushed as you feel your climax making itself known.

“Gonna come on daddy’s cock? You love my dick, don’t you?” His words deep in your ear making you lose all sense in your knees when going silk around him.

Your head twists deeper across his skin, eyes barely staying open as the squished grass amongst the floor bobs in your vision. Mr. Styles takes complete control over you as his hands keep your waist flexing around him.

Your pussy quivers and trembles from his words, adding fury to the spikes of arousal barreling down joyously. Your mouth hangs open, nails scratching into his skin as you continue feeling his cock tagging your cervix each time.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan completely distraught with stomach twitching. Your jerking hips take control of your weak motions as you find the strength to runt yourself into his lap.

Clit rubbing beautifully against the light bush along his pelvis chasing your high. You groan pleasantly at the head of his cock dragging across your sweet spot, your climax welcoming itself with your pussy contracting around him.

And instead of Mr. Styles guiding you back up his length he’s following your movements and thrusting into your hips. Piercing jabs adding to the sensation of pulsing shocks spreading through.

“Feel so good bunny,” He moans into your bobbing head, lips trailing down the hair matted to your shoulder. Sweet smell of your perfume gracing his nostrils that leaves him growling against your skin.

Fingers shake against his flexing shoulders, lips bitten and cracked letting air shallowly fill your lungs. Your pussy is bruised and sore from the girth of your teacher assaulting every inch that welcomes him.

“You’re so deep daddy,” Sweet voice running across his blushing skin. It’s damp with tiny strands connecting hair against his temples, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily with his fingers digging deeper into your skin; clear that your words affect him.

It’s your favorite thing to do with this game you play. How your words are so angelic yet dirty, leaving Mr. Styles, your boy toy and step-father vulnerable messes every time you're around. Cracked voices and growing erections always being your sight at just a simple bat of an eye. It’s so easy to have whoever you want be able to play.

It’s why you continue being alluring; dreamy moans carrying into his ears with hands sliding up into his hair, tousling every lock as you rotate your hips against his thrusts. The change in rhythm and pulsing beats of your pussy around Harry makes him hiss. Head dropping swiftly against your shoulder till you catch him quickly, nails tugging his head back as you peer into his eyes and ride his cock.

“Fuck me nice and wide,” Waist swiveling against his grip trying to strain your movements. Green eyes look up at your lips while his part in bliss accepting your heavenly pussy gracing him. “Stretch me so good daddy.”

Teasing breath fanning over his face as your breasts rub against the material of his jacket, your scent showers over him with your pussy wrapping around his cock deliciously, the sight clear of how he’s a slave to you and the way you make him feel.

“Don’t you want to fill me up?” Harry moans with eyes blinking slowly, his fingers beginning to loosen against your motions.

Your pussy coats his dick in creamy fluid adding to the pleasure of your walls dragging down him. Your fingers itch at his scalp, lips leaning towards his and nearly connecting as you smile.

“Don’t you want me to make you a daddy?”

Words having Mr. Styles whining high in his throat, hands twitching against your hips just as his seed spills into you. Fingers twitching and jaw tensing as he stares up in complete admiration. His waist stills against yours, eyes blinking slowly in a daze as you still grin at him, swiveling your hips and whispering sweet nothings.

“Such a thick load, sir.”

Hands relaxing around his curls while his fall from your waist, Harry’s sight completely enveloped by your words that he can’t help the lazy smile that tugs along his lips when you giggle at his expression.

“Mm… you’re really the best.” You hush, hips moving slowly as your chest begins to relax.

“It’s clear that’s up for debate.” Mr. Styles smirks, fingers feeling over the blades of grass below. But even if it’s a playful tease, his words taint your heart.

“It’s only you, I’m so serious sir,” You sigh, head shifting with bottom lip jutting out.

He gives you a pointed glare as if not believing you — not that he should, but it’s entertaining to make him jealous… teasing him just how you like. It’s why you find yourself rolling your eyes and raising up on your sore knees. The motion of you sitting off his lap and slipping him out turns his attention. His come drips out and flows down the expanse of his cock.

Humming delighted at the site, your hand trails out of his hair and between your legs. Fingers seeping into your pussy and catching the reminder of him onto your fingertips to carry into your mouth. Tongue welcoming the muted taste of your teacher and moaning playfully.

“Bunny.” He whines, eyes watching closely as you dip back between you both and collect the rest running down his cock and sucking them off your fingers again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The laugh that escapes you is adorable when you lean into his chest, hands moving to his shoulders and forcing him to fall back against the grass which he does gently. His own hands run down your spine as you shift around on his body.

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” You sigh, fingers trailing up his neck and drawing along the definition of his jaw as he looks up at the sky.

The laugh that leaves the older man is light and cherished, one that has you smiling as you let his touch roam all over your skin.

His heart beats against your ear, lungs rising steadily with your bodies fitting together. The sun is still shining brightly with the breeze passing by every few moments. The quiet atmosphere of this area makes it feel private and safe.

“Sir?” Voice raised in question as your fingertip glides against the bridge of his nose just in time for him to hum in response.

“You never did tell me why you call me bunny?” Lips piercing together tightly as his touch begins to draw circles up your spine in swirls.

“Your eyes,” He whispers as he looks at the clouds passing across.

Your brows perk up at that. Your eyes? You knew they were quite alluring but not to that extent. Yet, that was the nickname that he gave you, the one feature that stood out the most to him. Not cherry, or baby like your other two flings.

“My eyes?” You reiterate. Head trailing off to the side as you pass your finger across his lips. The motion has him playfully biting on your nail till you’re retreating back to draw along his cheeks with a giggle.

“Yes… there so doe and soft, like a bunny. My bunny.” You hum acknowledging his words in admiration.

So that’s what he thought, that’s what stuck out the most. It was adorable and unique. So different compared to what you’re familiar with.

“When do you think we can do this again?” Your voice mutters against his chest. It makes Mr. Styles draw his hands away and lean up on his elbows.

His eyes go towards your shirt and grabs it, the material falls into your grip and you don’t hesitate to lean back and slip it over your head, sight still caught on the older man.

“I don’t know… it’s too risky,” His view looking over your naked thighs that hold his abdomen to the poor expression turning up over your face.

“Oh come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes and drawing away from his body. You twist off him with hands leaning towards your undergarments inches away.

“W —What are you getting all upset about? Even right now is pushing it,” His own actions cover himself back up as you scoff in response. “Don’t act like this.”

Another exaggerated sigh falls from your mouth before fixing your shorts around your hips, sight narrowing on the green streaks across your shirt before turning to look at the teacher now standing.

“I’ll act however I please,” You mumble, teeth clenching down on each other as Mr. Styles groans with annoyance, his hand stretching towards you but you’re quick enough to retreat back.

“So, even if it’s this spot for the exact same time?” You rephrase, heart knocking against your chest as you tangle your arms together.

“No Y/N, god… don’t you get it? Don’t you see my job on the line just to be here right now?”

“Fine.”

“Would you stop?”

“No.”

Your eyes watch every frustrated movement from the body parallel of you who bows his head in disbelief of the situation.

Of course he wants to see you again, of course he wants to wrap himself all around you but this puts too much stress over everything on his plate.

“Let’s just talk this over?”

“No, I’m good.”

Your teeth shining happily as you shift your head to the side and watch Mr. Styles inhale deeply. his body stepping closer still attempting to hold you.

“I’ll walk my way around to the front… you can go back from where you came from.” Simple nod of your head before your gracefully turning around beginning your departure. You’re trailing off so quickly he doesn’t even have the chance to catch you slipping through his fingers.

He just had you and now it’s already over.

Harry should’ve really expected this though. He should’ve anticipated your stubborn reaction to his words, he should’ve really thought over them because now you’re making his life a living hell.

You couldn’t wait a week, or even a couple days, you really couldn’t wait at all. Because the next afternoon you showed up to class five minutes late, walking through the door with a simple smirk on your lips and “sorry!” so sweet and delectable that he let you get away with it, of course he would, far as he knows he’s on punishment.

But, when you cut your eyes in a wicked glare did he realize who else was missing from the class, his own lacrosse player. Your heels echoed to your seat eerily to him amongst the shuffling of the other students, and when you sat in your chair with lips now a teasing grin did Luca soft knock sound on the door before he stepped in.

His collar was obnoxiously up high, clear what was litter amongst his skin. The sight had Harry clenching his jaw unbearably tight, his eyes going to you who conceitedly winked at him. It didn’t help that the other students began to snicker, adding to the fury of Harry turning his fingers in on themselves while continuing the class.

That was only the beginning though; now when passing in the halls you completely ignored him, acting as if he wasn’t there. When seeing you in the pillars of the school with Luca by your side, you made sure to wink at him, or sometimes Harry will see him drop you off to class, catching sight on his hands grabbing the skin he doesn’t deserve.

You continue showing up late; sometimes your boyfriend trailing behind, sometimes not. You stop raising your hand and involving yourself in class discussions and begin to pay attention to the birds outside or doodling in your book. Notes start being exchanged even more between you and the blonde classmate, one time you even left one on your desk that Harry took up.

Can I eat you out tonight?

Luca

His messy writing covered the paper that Harry closed his fist around. His feet stalked over to the garbage and threw it into the trash.

You’re fucking with him so badly, so terribly, why are treating him like this?

He doesn’t feel any better that he tried to be reasonable, trying to get you to understand that your endeavors couldn’t be consistent, it would be too much for the both of you.

But, it’s tempting… so tempting to want to pull you in after class and tell you that he’s done with your antics and to take him back. Go back to being his sweet bunny with doe eyes and bitten lips, go back to writing his nickname across the page of your test and showing him your sweet plump cheeks.

It’s already bad enough he’s coming into his hand every night just thinking about your pussy around him again. Your sweet voice telling him your dirty thoughts, the ones that have been on your mind since meeting. He wants more of you, he needs more honestly, and the way you’re acting isn’t helping him at all.

He can deal with you being with Luca because Harry knows deep down he doesn’t satisfy you the way you like. He’s certain you don’t fancy him much and is just using him to toy with his feelings, but he’ll accept that.

It’s Friday night and it’s the annual parent teacher meeting. Students in their pressed and polished uniforms standing alongside their parents as they walk across campus displaying to them their life while here.

Harry hasn’t seen you yet and he’s thankful, he’s suppose to meet your mother and he’s trying to keep his nerves at bay. His fingers are tapping timidly inside his pocket as he smiles at Gabriel's mother who boasts about the upcoming lacrosse tournament.

His eyes watch the way her skin folds over in wrinkles when she smiles happily, while her son looks annoyed and Harry can’t help the breathless laugh that leaves him when noticing.

“The boys have been putting in great work this year, I’m sure we’ll be getting the trophy.” Harry beams while Gabriel rolls his eyes at his teacher.

“It’s all he talks about when I call him… but, let’s me not keep you, we still have to see Mrs. Randall.” Fading auburn hair shifting with each nod of her head as she leaves the community hall looking for the science teacher.

It’s when the loving mother exits the door does he see his bunny slip in. Manicure and dazzling accessories shining over your shoulder as your mother walks into the room, and it isn’t the sight of her that has Harry shocked, no, it’s the man that steps through right after with tattoos littered in the revealing parts of his suit. All over his hands and up his neck, if Harry were to assume, he would be around his age, with thick beard growing in and slight tiredness swelling around his eyes.

He can tell from his appearance you don’t look quite similar, you resemble your mother more than anything but he doesn’t stare too long. Not with the way you begin to walk towards him with both parents on either side.

The chatter in the room is filled with other guardians and teachers making small talk either about the curriculum or the school's pretentious history, and somehow in all that noise it doesn’t seem to drown out the footsteps of bodies making their way over to him.

“Mr. Styles?” Thin lips of your mother sing in a cheerful tune as she sways from side to side.

He remembers you telling him about your mother. How she sent you to school once given the chance, yet she’s all bubbly and happy as if you have a place in her life, as if all the words you spoke were nothing but pure lies.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me!” Harry smiles softly, hand reaching out and she takes it genuinely. Soft touch enveloping him in a strong shake as he bows his head.

“You must be Y/N mother,” He continues, their hands parting as he looks down at you. For once your sight is looking up at him, your attention actually focus on him, and it makes Harry swallow heavily.

“She has told me so much about you, all good things! Saying how you’ve made her enjoy history even, she was never quite fond of it in her past schoolings but, you’ve made it her favorite!”

His brows raise up at that, mouth parting slightly in shock before grinning happily looking between you and your mother. So, you’ve been telling her about him? And saying his teachings are your favorite subject. You’re confusing him with your hot and cold games, but it’s even worse that he enjoys being in the middle of it.

“I never knew she said that? I’m so happy to hear,” Harry smiles before his hand is turning towards the man to the left of you. “And you must be Mr—”

“—Malik.”

His words cut off the teacher to correct him but doesn’t stop them from their hands meeting, strong grip over each other as his brown eyes look over him longingly, examining every inch of him.

“My apologies…” Harry sighs before turning to your mother to divert his gaze from your step-father. “But yes, she’s doing amazing in class. I'm glad it’s become her favorite.”

And he sees the way your face begins to heat up, how your eyes watched every motion of him shaking your father’s hand as if stunned this moment is happening. Harry wants to laugh, he wants to chuckle in your face because of course he’s caught you again, lying about having a father figure, this is cold bunny.

“Oh! Mom, they have that sparkling juice I was talking about, the one you should use for the dinner?” Your voice enters the conversation nervously as you look towards her. Hand going to her elbow as you direct her to the assortment of drinks and snacks on the table under the bulletin board.

“Just one second!” Your mother smiles at Harry before letting you lead her away.

Before Harry can even admire the sight of you all flustered and caught up from your parents meeting the teacher you’ve been tormenting for months, the laugh next to him has his direction turning towards the heavily tattoo man.

“Isn’t she funny?” Mr. Malik asks, lips tugged to the side as he shuffles on his feet. Harry can’t help but take one of his hands out of its confines and cough into it.

“Yes, she has quite the humor,” He agrees, fingers running over his hips smoothly as he shifts his posture.

Your step-father is looking up at him with such a questioning glare that Harry can feel his ears begin to beat with warmth, his eyes dying to break the fight over whatever is crossing his mind.

You always have tricks up your sleeves, always have another way to shine your dazzling teeth to get away with something else, and it’s another one of those moments. Body turned away from your daddy and father ignoring the fact they’re in the same room.

Aren’t you a nervous little thing when all caught up? It’s quite adorable.

“Are you playing?”

The question draws Harry’s eyebrows together, lips parting and sight concentrated heavier on the man next to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“With cherry? Are you playing with her?”

Cherry? His bunny is cherry to him. Oh? So this is why you’re so nervous and looking more distraught than when he caught you with that note.

You’re not nervous at the fact Harry knows you lied about your parents, but the fact you already had a father figure in your life, one that plays with you already and does everything that he wants when given the chance. That’s why you ran away.

“Oh? I —I didn’t… I haven’t…” Harry’s voice trails off as his sight goes towards you pouring another glass of the grape juice for your mother to try.

“So, it’s true then?” His eyes trail back to the older man who holds a smug grin, and when his hand pats down on his shoulder roughly, it makes Harry let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I must say… she does get what she wants.” Mr. Malik sight combs over the teacher before releasing his hold.

It has Harry relaxing and throat clear as his nose crinkles up. His bunny with someone else? He could get over Luca, he really could care less… but the man in front of him —the one you lied about so innocently— is standing before him not even surprised by the teachers place in your life, you’ve broken his heart bunny.

“Is she always like this?” Harry finds himself asking without thought, his brows relaxing as he tries to collect all the memories of everything you said from the first encounter.

“If you’re who she likes, yeah I guess… I’m not sure how it works in her head, she got me a few years ago…” Mr. Malik admits before breaking their gaze and looking over at you, and Harry can’t stop himself from doing it also. “You know, it really did catch me off guard when I found out about what she did first semester.”

Harry’s fingers curl in on themselves from hearing the truth. So it was all true, you did try to seduce a teacher, that’s why you’re at this school. That’s why you play this game with him, because you like this attention… you like having your way with the people you desire, you’re so dirty bunny.

“I didn’t know that,” He says, with hands crossing over his chest as he now leans against the brick wall. The relevance of the news has Mr. Malik turning, his eyebrows furrowed with a cheesy grin.

“Really?” He says with a shake of his head, body relaxing next to the teacher.

“I also didn’t know about you… I mean, being her father and all.”

“Step.” He emphasizes giving a pointed look, and Harry nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Yes, step-father.” He confirms before whistling weakly.

Your lies are finally spread out for the both of them to see. It really took today for him to see past everything and get the real information about you that he really wanted, the one he’s been seeking from the beginning.

His mind is a whirlwind of emotions and memories of what you both shared in such little time. “It’s only you, I’m serious sir.” Those were your words, said with such purity he believed you. But now it’s so clear how you like to be shared, how you like to be passed around for everyone.

Harry thought all this time that what you really needed was mentorship, soon that turned into some well deserved attention, but now, he thinks he sees your true intentions, the real reason why your eyes glimmer with happiness every time.

“I purpose we make some changes to her game,” Mr. Malik remarks, his white teeth showing as his lips stretch, and Harry can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I think we should make some new rules.”

[sankta-wraith]

One thing I think is really important when it comes to understanding Daemon and Rhaenyra's relashionship is the fact that Daemon doesn't show his love through words, he does it through actions. Quite frankly I'm not sure he knows how to verbally express love. He can't support her emotionally, but he can still do other things for her.I think this is shown really well in season 1 episode 10 and season 2 episode 1.

When Rhaenyra learns of her father's death and the Green's usurpation of her throne, she goes into premature labor almost imediatly, so there is no time for her to start planning her bid for the Iron Throne. Daemon takes the liberty of starting to plan the beginings of the war, and in doing so leaves Rhaenyra to endure childbirth alone. There is a very memorable scene in which Daemon schemes with Rhaenyra's small council at the Painted Table, whilst Rhaenyra screams in the background, even calling out for him at one point. Daemon makes no move to go to her and simply continues to plan a war, at least until Jace informs him that Rhaenyra doesn't want anything done until she is able to join them. Even then he does not join her. He goes to threaten two members of the Kingsguard with Caraxes, so as to ascertain that they will remain loyal to Rhaenyra. Now, when I first watched this scene, I, and probably everyone else, assumed that Daemon was taking the opportunity provided by Rhaenyra's premature labor to seize control and have the war start on his terms. Rhaenyra also seems to believe this, as when Jace inquires about Daemon's wherabouts she says "Off planning his war." However, upon rewatching that episode, I think that think that Daemon refusing to attend Rhaenyra in her labors and instead planning a war for her, is actually his way of trying to help her. Daemon is thinking that, while he does not know how to comfort her, and hold her hand, and help her through childbirth, he does know a thing or two about war. In his mind, he's essentially saying something along the lines of "I cannot help you there, so let me remain here where I am of use to you," because, as I said above, Daemon expresses love through his actions, not his words. I think at least part of him wants to be there for Rhaenyra, but he just doesn't know what he can say or do that would help her, so he focuses on what he can do: getting the council together and starting to plan, so that when Rhaenyra comes back he can show her that he's done something of use.

Then, when the child is stillborn, Rhaenyra once again needs comfort and reassurance that Daemon just does not know how to give. There is a scene of them, standing in front of their daughter’s funeral pyre, and you can see him give her this very concerned look, and kind of glance over like he wants to say something, but he doesn't, because he just does not know what he's supposed to say. Then Ser Erryk (or maybe Arryk, I can never remember,) arrives with the crown, and Daemon is relieved because he might not be able to offer her kind words, but he can be the one to put that crown on her head. A gesture that is even more meaningful if you consider how much he wants that crown. By being the one to physically place the crown on her head, he is telling her "I'm sorry that I can't be there for you, but I love you and I will support you." Then they go back to the war council, and Rhaenyra is asking about their numbers, and Daemon is the first one to speak. He starts talking almost before Rhaenyra finishes asking, he seems almost eager (even though their numbers are nothing to be eager about,) because she's finally asking him for something he can give. This is his chance to show her that, even if he cannot be there for her emotionally, he can still do this. He can organize this war and help her win, and do damn good job of it. This is really how Daemon says "I love you."

Then fast forward to 2x01, and Luke is dead, and Rhaenyra once again needs a level of emotional support he's simply not equipped to give, only this time, there is nothing else he can do to help her. He tries to convince Rhaenys to fly to Kings Landing, but she refuses, so he can do nothing except sit around, helplessly, while Rhaenyra mourns. Then she comes back, and he tries to be supportive, by asking if she "found what she needed," but she doesn't answer him. Instead, she declares that she "wants Aemond Targaryen." In Daemon's mind, she has essentially told him that to comfort her, he must have Aemond killed. So he uses his contacts in the City Watch to arrange it. I think one of the reasons he gave Blood and Cheese such vague instructions as to what to do if they can't find Aemond, is because he needs something for Rhaenyra. He can't be helpless any more. (Note: I am in no way condoning Blood and Cheese, or saying that Daemon did the right thing. I am simply trying to understand him and his choices better. Please dont come after me.) But then it fails. Catastrophically. And not only has Daemon failed to help Rhaenyra, he has made things much worse.

So he goes to Harrenhal to get the support of the river lords. But, so far, he has achieved next to nothing. (Obviously he's been busy with the hauntings and home renovations.) But he will not admit to Rhaenyra that he's failing miserably, so he ignores her ravens and sends none of his own. (I don't believe any of the bullshit Ryan Condal is trying to spin about him betraying her.) Because he will not go back to Dragonstone empty handed. Because to Daemon, that would be like telling Rhaenyra he doesn't love her anymore.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Abby Anderson head-cannons/ relationship HC’s

An: this is like my modern Hc! Only the cannon in game apocalypse version

Tw: nsfw towards the end

Humble about her title in the WLF

Goes to the gym twice a day, once in the morning once at night plus gas break days once or twice a week

High Proteine girly

Knows Damn well that the gay girls at the WLF thirst over her

COUGH lesbian COUGH

Will keep Alice after hours sometimes just because

It’s literally cannon her and manny have competitions for who do what in the apartment

Is a perfectionist

If your in a relationship she’ll take you to the gym and make you try to lift her weights

Actually really likes to cook

If she wasn’t a solider she would of became a medic like her father

Has a shitty green thumb, can not keep a plant alive if her life depended on it

Speaks Spanish to a small degree bc of manny

Once her and manny had hooked up with the same girl — NOT TOGETHER I meant like Abby hooked up with someone THAT FUCKING SCIENTIST first then manny ended up hooking up with the same woman later on down the line.

Makes the worst jokes ever but ppl laugh bc their to scared to offend her

Street smart not book smart

When fall comes around mannys dad still celebrates dia de los Muertos, being that manny and Abby are close manny invited Abby one year to celebrate with them and they made an ofrenda for Abby’s father

Relationship wise she’s actually really caring

You and Abby met most likely in the WLF, whether it’s from you helping her on an assignment, nursing her to health in the infirmary or her helping you with the animals you two just met at the WLF while helping one another

You of-course had heard of Abby multiple times but you.. this was Abby’s first time meeting or hearing abt you and shit she knew she was heads over heels in the first moment you met

Abby spent months deciding over if you were actually into her or not — one night after you two got drunk together Abby confessed and one thing let to another you two decided to plan a date

Abby freaked out like actually leg shaking anxious breath worried if she would fuck up.

She did, the day of the date she had bailed on you due to being put on an imporant assigment by Isaac

After wards she found you had a small argument with you before finally kissing you

That’s how you two ended up together

(I’m writing a fic abt this btw wait for that coming soon 😈🙏🙏🙏🙏)

She’s the type to find you souvenirs while she’s out patrolling

Will make deals with the gardeners to get you a bouquet of flowers

Every Saturday she kicks manny out and sets up the apartment so you two can have a date, doesn’t matter if your fighting and not on speaking terms you two always have the date Abby makes sure, once you Didn’t show up and Abby actually picked you up- threw you over her shoulder and carried you to the apartment

Most ppl when they write smut for Abby is alays like she’s fucking the ever living daylights out of you and calling you names but personally I don’t think Abby would do that (not that’s there’s anything wrong with those fanfics I eat that shit up everytime)

I think Abby is more of a soft lover. She takes her time and whispers sweet nothings, she’ll tell you how perfect you are and how you were blessed by the goddess of love herself

She can get a little rough though, she’s the type to while nuckles deep into you she’ll praise you for how well your doing

She’s a switch, she loves to make you feel good but also wants to be told how much you love her and her body esp her muscles

Abby’s not submissive though it’s just not her style

Went into an abandoned mall once and found a Spencer’s that’s where she managed to find a strap on

She doesn’t really like to use it since in her opinion it takes away from the experience, she doesn’t really like the fact that you want to get off on something that isn’t her

Would never let you use the strap on her tho lmao

Once Owen had drunkly said something to insult you and Abby decked him right then and there mel and manny made her apologize the next day

Insanely protective of you like I said previously she would deck Owen for just insulting you (I also don’t like Owen bc he sucks for cheating on my babe Mel)

If you two argue which is rare Abby’s stubborn but after a while she’ll force you to talk to her. She’s also gonna make you come to an agreement with her and actually communicate how you feel

GODDAMN ABBYS ASS IS FAT sorry I’m watching the remastered version of tlou2 while writing this 😭

Abby’s heavy on communication like she refuses to let one of you go to bed angry

She swears that your the most beautiful person she’s ever met

Abby will go on rants about her dad and tell you silly stories

Your the most important person to Abby and she makes that very clear— if you do patrols she refuses to let you do dangerous patrols only east already cleared areas or only if your with her so she can protect you

Deep down Abby’s scared to loose you like she lost her dad

Every night before she lets you go back to your apartment to sleep or if your sleeping over Abby will give you soft kisses and tell you how much she loves you before letting you go

That’s its 😝

[blossomthepinkbunny]

Hazbins bad character design

I feel like there is a definitive lack of varitey when it comes to the designs in HH as well as a problem of characters' designs not fitting them or what the show wants us to assume about them.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (like lots of other ppl already) but the designs in HH specifically mostly don't work. They're fine if you look at them disconnected from the show. Maybe as just random characters who don't really have to carry a show visually. But they don't work if you actually put them into context and into the background of Hazbin Hotel.

Obviously this stuff is very objective and if you do like the designs thats fine (which I shouldn't even have to say). Also I didn't study art or character design and I don't think you have to to be good at it/be able to form opinions on it and this is mostly just me compiling what I don't like while using some basic knowledge on how shapes, colours etc work.

(rant under the cut)

One problem I really have is, that as soon as you have a design there are immediate assumptions about the character. In the sense that if person A is very muscular and fights against person B, who is maybe slimmer or less buff, you would probably immediately assume that person A wins, atleast in physical combat. Whereas person B would probably be the assumed winner in a stretching or flexibility competition. Often characters are designed with these assumptions in mind. Muscle, height, weight, age, clothes etc. give way into assuming stuff about people, their condition, lifestyle or personality.

The expectations that are set up by the design choices are usually either picked to genuinely represent something about a character or to be subverted and shock/confuse the audience.

Like how a lot of fighting types in Pokémon will either be more muscular or have other details relating to certain fighting styles/sports and the fairy types are usually pinkish, fluffy and cutesy. Because these elements are something typically associated with these types and when we look at them we can pretty easily tell which type they're supposed to be.

Otherwise, Monster girl from Invincible is drawn as a twelve year old girl, so it subverts expectations when she turns into a big green monster and generally doesn't stray away from violence, because it's something you wouldn't have assumed about her from her appearance.

In Hazbin Hotel most of the time the character designs don't necessarily fit what they're supposed to be and they also don't use the other design choices as subversion (the one that would probably count here is Nifty with looking and acting very childlike usually but then also acting violent/crazy sometimes).

The first thing would probably be that characters don't look their age mostly.

Charlie and Valeria (Vaggie, but I really don't wanna keep calling her that so she gets a new name) look fine as they're supposed to be around 20. Rosie and Carmilla also look alright for what we can assume their ages are supposed to be. But Alastor is in his 30s or 40s (what it says on the fandom wiki) and he looks around 20 as well. The same thing goes for Lucifer. He looks so young that he could also count as just Charlies brother or friend rather than her dad, because he doesn't look like he could be the dad of a 20 year old. This makes the song "Hell's Greatest Dad" a bit awkward because these men are singing/competing about who is better as Charlies father but they don't look a day older than her. Husk also looks way too young for someone in his 60s-70s (again from the wiki).

The body types being all the same also doesn't help.

Mimzy and Adam are pretty much the only more relevant characters who aren't like all the others in terms of body shape. All the other relevant women in the show have a tiny waist and either big boobs/big hips or just a slimmer build in general. All the men have thin waists and then broader shoulders.

And for some characters it makes sense. Like Angel is really flexible and his more lanky body fits with being a spider. But why are Lucifer and Valentino like that? Other than the fact that Viv doesn't like drawing muscles there is really no reason for them too being build like every other skinny man there. Valentino is supposed to be intimidating not just by how he acts but physically too. He seemingly has a bit more muscle than others but his arms are still super thin and look like they could snap if I look at them wrong. I'm not trying to say that abusers all have to be buff, but simply from a design perspective the scenes with him would be a lot more effective if we saw him actually have a big physical advantage over Angel and others, even when he isn't necessarily threatening them. As soon as he comes on screen, we could see him as a much more intimidating presence, especially when all the other characters look like sticks. Or they could make it so, that he hides his muscles under his coat and when we get the reveal of him actually removing it, it's more shocking and immediately makes the situation more tense.

Lucifer could've had a more confident frame as well. He's the king of hell and the strongest being in hell, so just for the diversity I would give him some muscles too. Husk is also super skinny and for someone who only sits around and drinks alcohol all day, he should definitely have a beer belly (please I swear to god I wanna see more men with bellies, Mammon was great). Also for Valeria and Lute and pretty much all the Angels I don't get why they wouldn't be more buff either. Valeria is a fighter, she's Charlies bodyguard but she looks like all of the other women there. It's stated that Angels fight so wild because they don't know they could get hurt. And while I know that the Angels can really only get hurt by angelic weapons, having this whole reveal that they can be injured would've definitely suprised me more, if they actually looked like they couldn't be injured in the first place. But then again, Valeria looks like her arms would break as soon as a breeze hits them too hard. In some episodes her thighs look a bit more muscular, but not notably and she also doesn't fight using her legs (like Carmilla) so only her thighs being bigger sort of doesn't make sense. In general, she or Lute don't show any difference to the women who aren't physical fighters. And obviously just to have a more interesting show to look at, including different body types would do a great job at making these characters stand apart from eachother more.

While we're on the topic of diversity, another obvious thing that makes the characters redundant and borig (sometimes ugly too) is the reused colour pallette. Colour coding is probably one of the easiest things when talking about character designs and it's something atleast Helluva Boss understands.

What effect warm/cold tones have or what feelings we associate with different colours is a great way to bring stuff about characters across without being too on the nose. Obviously colour can also be used to either connect characters or to make them very distinct. Shape language also plays into that of course. In Inside Out the emotions are mostly characterized by their respective colour and by their distinct shapes.

Joy = yellow (bright colour often associated with the sun/light)

Sadness = blue (cold colour often associated with tears/rain)

Anger = red (very strong colour with aggressive association with fire or when someone turns red because of anger)

Fear = purple (light colour here, mix between red and blue as fear often falls into a more angry or sad feeling)

Disgust = green (colour of most dirt or puke or other stuff people usually see as gross)

Or in a show like Bluey, where different patterns, shapes and colours show the breed of the dog and also how characters might be related to eachother (same breed/mix of breed = usually related).

Or how colours can be used as lighting effects to create cool shots when the colour pallette changes all of a sudden. In JJBA these changes happen often when someone is in distress or unsure of themselves. Also in tense moments to make them seem more exciting and interesting.

Hazbin Hotel has very limited range when it comes to the colours of the main cast. All of them feature some form of red and that usually in combination with black or white (if they aren't just purely red like Alastor or Rosie). This makes them not stand out from eachother and creates very similar colour pallettes which get boring once you've seen them repeated over and over again. It also makes the visual connection between characters who are actually related (like Charlie and Lucifer) a lot less strong because so many characters share similarities already.

Also they just hurt to look at sometimes because the background is mostly red as well and with a lot of them being very overly detailed. People have also spoken before about the show being pretty inaccessible for colour blind/vision impared people due to these issues with the colour.

And now you might say that it's hell and therefore it makes sense for all of them and the background to be red. But firstly, I don't think that there is a definitive source which decides that hell is red and can only be shown/interpreted as red. And also there is another show, also set in hell which actually does a much better job at that and actually shows different colours in hell. Like in Helluva Boss the rings are all colour coded.

And I know, that HH plays in the pride ring fully, but imagine how cool it would've been to see sinners have colours similar to the sin(s) they committed. This could lead to them looking distinct from eachother and the background and would also lead to us being able to assume stuff about them, if we're familiar with the colour coding. In "Hell's Greatest Dad" they do a fun colour change with different light and it's really refreshing and I just wanted to see more variety like that (of course I kinda get that the colour changing isn't really part of the shows design but it was pretty cool to see in that song).

There also is the issue with characters that are supposed to be animal-like sinners not looking like the animal they apparently take inspiration from. The thing is that the animal/object parts don't necessarily have to be visible to understand a character. But in the show, how sinners look in hell is often influenced by their life on earth. Vox's head being a TV is because he was a Tv-show host when he was alive. Nifty also is supposedly a bug, which makes sense because she hates bugs and probably hated them in real life too. But that is where it would be great to actually have Nifty resemble a bug, instead she has no features of one and just looks like a regular humanoid sinner. The same thing happens with Alastor being a deer, Valeria a moth, Charlie goat-like and Angel a spider (also Mimzy is apparently based off of a chicken). Like I said, the animal inspiration isn't essential to the characters, but emphasizing these design elements could help the characters stand out instead of them all just looking like sort of human characters. Sir pentious and Husk work the best in terms of presenting their animal inspiration (though pretty much everything else about Husks design sucks ass).

And then there are complaints about the characters that are supposed to be people of colour not having any features that resemble their race. It's just a bit weird when a mostly humanoid sinner doesn't really seem to resemble how the person looked in real life. Black characters have really desaturated and sometimes just straight up grey skin in HH. Alastor is probably the most egregious in that regard, but also Emily has just light blueish gray skin and no textured hair or other black features like the nose or lips or palms. Velvette and Sera have darker skin but also no other features (except for when we see Velvette's natural hair texture in like one shot at the end of the season). I know there are other things wrong with how Voodoo is presented in HH or with Mimzy's design often being seen as a jewish caricature, but I don't wanna focus on that fully, because I feel like there are people better suited for talking about that (black people or jewish people ofc).

In general HH is a show with pretty bad designs (imo). That's actually a thing I prefer about Helluva Boss, because there the designs are mostly okay or actually sometimes pretty good. Striker is probably my favourite design in both shows (he reminds me of Dillon and that's cool).

I like Mammon, Asmodeus, Octavia and Loona as well. I would still probably change a bunch if I were to redesing the HB cast but they overall look more solid than the HH cast.

This was another post which pretty quickly became an excuse to talk about other media I enjoy. I might do that more often, because comparing elements of HH or HB to other stuff makes it kinda easier to articulate my feelings. Also just because I enjoy talking about other stuff too.

[sleepiexx]

Can’t Lose You

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!Reader

Note: way late to the party of writing for Ghost but y’know I had my fun

Summary: A mission goes slightly off plan, Simon doesn’t take it too well.

Warnings: he yells at u lmao, mention of injury, mention of blood, mention of stitches

Word count: 1190

Mere seconds after the rest of the team cleared out of the room to take off gear and rest for the night, leaving Ghost alone in a room with (Y/N), he snapped. The stress of the recent mission got in his head. It brewed nothing but trouble for him, anger festering until it boiled over. Namely the part where (Y/N) went into the enemy compound by herself— as she’d been ordered to do— when, unbeknownst to the team, her comms were cut leaving them with no way of telling whether she was alive or dead for a large chunk of their assignment.

It all worked out in the end but that did nothing to quell Ghost’s simmering rage.

“You’re a bloody fucking idiot.” He growled, “It’s like you don’t care about your own god damn well being. You’re completely fucking reckless, do you even realize how easily you could have been killed!”

(Y/N) was surprised at Ghost’s hostile behavior, normally they were on good terms. If he was mad at anyone, it was never her. Not to mention that the situation had in no way been her fault.

She scoffed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger, “I was fine! Barely got hurt, I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in a twist over nothing.”

He knew he shouldn’t be this mad, the rational part of his brain could reason that it wasn’t even her fault. But he wasn’t thinking logically, he was thinking emotionally, and to him yelling seemed the only way to express big emotions, “It may not be this time, it may not be the next, but if you keep on like this, some day you are going to meet the consequences of your actions and it is not going to be pretty.”

By then, (Y/N) was pissed, “Jesus Christ, it’s not that serious, Ghost! This is my fucking job! I don’t see you getting onto anyone else like this. What, do you think I can’t handle myself because I’m a woman or some shit?”

“No it’s not that it’s-“ because I love you, “it’s-“

She was sick of the arguing and frankly could not stand the fact that he wouldn’t refute her claim of sexism. She never pegged him as the type, but sooner or later, most military guys showed their true colors.

“Yeah, while you try and think up some shitty excuse, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” She stood from her seat quickly, black dotted her vision.

Ghost watched from behind, confused as she stood there swaying for a moment. Quicker than he could catch her, she slammed to the ground.

He was filled with alarm as he yelled out to her, “(Y/N)!” He was at her side in a split second, turning her onto her back.

“Fuck.” He muttered. She was out cold.

Ghost didn’t even think, it was second nature to help her. He pulled her off the ground, one arm behind her back, one under her knees. With her in his arms, he sprinted to the infirmary.

“Medic! I need a medic!” He screamed as he neared the infirmary.

All heads turned towards Ghost holding (Y/N) in his arms. Any medic who wasn’t previously occupied with an injured soldier ran towards them.

“What happened?” One of them asked, putting on latex gloves.

Ghost was shaken to his very core, even stuttering out a simple response was hard. “She just- she just fell, I don’t know.”

(Y/N) was taken from his arms and moved to a cot where they removed all of her gear. Her green shirt was heavily stained with blood, just below where her bulletproof vest ended.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost whispered. His hands made their way to his head to rake through his hair but he was stopped by his mask. Instead, he ran his hands up and down his head.

He felt horrible. He spent this whole time yelling at her instead of checking if she was okay and she wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been yelling at her in the first place, he only now realized that. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even disappointed, he was scared.

They lifted her shirt, revealing a huge gash that was overflowing with blood. The medic who was wearing gloves pressed gauze down harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding as another medic ran to get the suture kit.

14. She ended up getting 14 stitches in her abdomen. The wound narrowly missed her internal organs; had it been a hair's width closer, she’d be in a lot worse condition than she found herself in.

Ghost was mortified, she could have died. She could have died and the last conversation they would have had would have been him yelling at her for something he wasn’t even actually mad about.

He sat at her bedside, mask rested on the table beside him. He didn’t want the mask to be the first thing she saw when she woke up; he figured that it would scare her, and he’d antagonized her enough for one day.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His thumb rubbed over the knuckles on her limp hand. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Simon tilted his head towards the ceiling, blinking away tears. “It’s just… I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I know- I know you are more capable than anyone else at your job. Hell, I’ve seen it, seen how good you are at what you do. But, (Y/N), I love you, and I dread the day that someone gets the upper hand on you and you get hurt and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”

He stopped his monologue the moment he felt her hand squeeze his back. His eyes shot down to see hers blinking up at him.

“Good thing that won’t happen,” she rasped. She parted her hand from his only so that she could reach for his face. “Where’d your other face go?”

“My other face?” He snorted, holding her hand to his cheek.

“Your skull.”

“Oh.” He said, glancing towards the mask on the table. “Didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to scare me, Lieutenant.”

Simon shook his head, half disappointed that she hadn’t seemed to have heard his confession, half relieved.

“Oh and Lt.?”

He perked up to her calling him, “Yeah?”

She sat up ever so slightly before pulling him towards her in one swift movement, pressing their lips together. He was shocked by her actions but caught on quickly, kissing back with double the amount of passion she kissed him with. Her hands found themselves interlocked behind his neck while his came to clasp around her waist.

As they parted— hands still glued to the spots on either body that they held onto with a death grip— a spit trail kept them connected.

“Gross.” (Y/N) laughed, triggering Simon to laugh as well.

She stopped laughing to stare into his eyes, the ones that gleamed with love for her. “In case you couldn’t tell,” she started, “I love you too.”

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

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Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea. 

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties. 

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha. 

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut. 

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food. 

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

[impactrueno]

hello dear! I was wondering and i apologize if you’ve already been asked but I was curious…ik that that toonjuice cares about Lydia like a niece/daughter, and the musical cares about her too, how would both react at how keetenjuice treated movie Lydia in the first film when she was a kid?…like say they never knew he was a p#do, how would they react? (And I’m sorry if this sounds bad or weird I’m just curious if they’re protective and shit or?…😭😭)

ok sorry first off i gotta reiterate: movie beetlejuice is not....a pedo....he was just using lydia as a green card thing just like musical beetlejuice.........he says it himself

this misconception comes from people repeating it a lot, especially after they spread the knowledge about the first versions of the movie script (which they changed for good reason,) but when you watch the actual movie and pay attention to what he says and how the wedding goes, it's a lot more clear that his sole intent was to cross over as soon as the wedding was finalized and get the hell out. especially now that we can compare that scene to the sequel where he actually IS into lydia now as an adult (which is creepy as hell on its own but it's very much not pedophilia let's not water down the terms here) and THIS wedding is like a WHOLE thing, he relishes it, he's not frantically hurrying it up, he takes his sweet time trying to woo lydia and enjoys it. his attitude could not be more different this time around

ok now that that's out of the way

if you're asking about my comics specifically, i've been writing them like they're already caught up with what went down with their respective lydias. each of them knows that movie bj tried to marry his lydia twice and has been stalking her for 30 years (he himself mentions it and musical bj uses that against him to insult him,) that musical bj DID marry his lydia but she immediately killed him (cartoon bj called her the "little black widow" and movie bj mocks him for getting tricked into it, as if he himself didn't also get tricked into marriage and murdered by his first wife lol) and that cartoon bj is best friends with his lydia and hangs out with her all the time (babysitting her, as movie bj put it.) the rest, they've been finding out through their conversations.

cartoon bj as we already know is jealously protective of his lydia, but musical bj ehhh not that much. hell, i'd argue he needs to be protected from her, lol.

i think he just knows she can take care of herself, she IS tougher than she looks and he can personally vouch for that. he did step in to save her from his mother, but i think that might've just been because he literally owed her his (incredibly brief) life and he wasn't gonna let someone take that from her. that has more to do with how he himself feels about life and death than how he feels about his lydia, i think. i'm not saying he doesn't care about her because he clearly does. but it's not like the dynamic cartoon bj and lyds have.

cartoon bj's protectiveness of lydia stems solely from how much he cares about her. he's not noble, he's not a hero, he's not a good guy, he doesn't protect her because it's the right thing to do, but because that's HIS best friend and no one better touch a hair on her head or take her away from him. a little selfish but oddly sweet in his own beetlejuicey way. lydia thinks so, at least.

i went off on a tangent here but i think establishing how they feel will help ppl understand where i'm coming from with this argument.

your question is how they would react to learning how movie bj treated his lydia when she was 15:

i talked a bit about how cartoon bj wouldn't stand up to the other two because he knows he has no room to talk, and i think he would only take action if either of them tried to do anything to his lydia (which they won't, obviously, but HE doesn't know that and doesn't trust them) but he also can't help but have a fondness for the other two lydias even if he doesn't really know them. he probably thinks hey if they're lydia, they're probably great. cartoon lydia has similar feelings about the other two juices; she thinks they can't possibly be that bad. but she's not stupid, she's also a bit wary. i think she just wants to get to know them and understand them, maybe sees them as misunderstood, just like how she sees her own beej.

now musical bj.........lol he would be the KING OF HYPOCRITES if he gave movie bj any shit about what he did, because he did exactly the same and was WAY more aggressive about it. he's extremely volatile and that makes him the most dangerous of the three in my opinion. he and lydia became friends, she left him alone for a bit to find out if she could see her dead mom again, his mommy issues and abandonment issues made him take that extremely personally ("you wanna treat me like a demon? then i'll be a demon") and he immediately decided he was gonna backstab her and force her to marry him so he could become alive and not be alone anymore. he tricked her the exact same way jeremy tricked astrid and almost got barbara killed just to extort lydia into agreeing to the marriage and possibly to also get back at her for leaving him, at the maitlands for helping her and everyone else for getting in his way. full on rampage. then when he falls for her bait and switch, he goes "ok well my plan failed so now i'm gonna kill ALL OF YOU"

if anything i think movie bj would be the one questioning musical bj about this stuff, especially now that he seems to have genuine feelings for lydia and helped her save astrid and get rid of rory (the rory thing was a freebie too, but i guess he needed him out of the picture if he planned to marry lydia anyway.) how he dealt with rory and jeremy shows that he actually has some integrity, and from how he talks about dolores we know that "even he has his limits." he follows through with every single deal he's made and he's never lied to lydia once. you can't say the same thing for the other two juices (cartoon bj constantly disappointing his lydia with his lies and lack of integrity, and musical bj for lying to, tricking and backstabbing his lydia)

i think movie bj would come up to musical bj, drape an arm over his shoulder to pull him closer "hey c'mere. lawrence. may i call you lawrence? just wanted to know what the hell is yer damage. lydia can teach ya some breathing exercises to, yknow, control yer emotions so you can stop making a fool of yerself know what i mean?" pat him firmly and stare him down with a scary sleazy smile. musical bj does need therapy. like. asap lol

it's interesting because it's not how you would expect things to go. but when you look closely and compare each of them....it's what makes the most sense.

at least that's what i think, this is all my opinion of course

[luciopioid]

No Looking Back

minnie x f!reader . 2,572K words

tags: older minnie/age gap. alcohol. use of “girl” and other feminine terms. vaginal fingering.

synopsis: minnie is a regular at your cafe job. after one particularly hard day, she runs into you and helps you out in more ways than one.

Minnie hands you a glass of wine before she sits down beside you on her couch– albeit probably too close, but the smell of her perfume and her radiating body heat next to you makes any doubt disappear immediately.

“So how long have you been there?” She asks, ruffling a hand through her hair. You shoot her a look. “The cafe, I mean.” She chuckles.

“Oh! About a year now. My last job wasn’t getting me by, but the pay here is a little better and the tips are good. I’m thinking about quitting though because last we–” You catch yourself.

“Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous. But a year. I’ve been there a year.” You chuckle awkwardly, catching minnie’s gaze as she looks at you with a warm smile.

“Why are you nervous, baby?”

You feel your face go hot and it takes every fiber within you not to start giggling like an idiot.

You don’t really remember how you got here exactly, but you do remember crying profusely and running into one of your regulars at your job.

_

It was raining and you had just worked a shift from hell. Customers yelling in your face, whipped cream and green tea spilled over your pants and shoes– the whole nine yards. You practically run out of the cafe on your way to your car. You huddle to yourself, as if it will make the rain avoid you specifically given you forgot your umbrella. You sit down in your passenger seat momentarily, and for the first time in six hours, you breathe. Ready to go home and shower and probably cry, you start your car. Or try to at least. You turn the key again. And again. And again, but to no avail it doesn’t start. At all.

You feel tears stinging at your eyes, but you blink them away and decide to get out and pop the hood. You don’t know what you’re looking at. You just want to go home. Your hair is wet and your clothes are cold and damp.

At some point in between clocking out and having a breakdown in the rain, you ran into Minnie, a regular customer at your job that comes in every other day.

Shit.

You didn’t know what bothered you more: being in this vulnerable position for anyone to walk by and wonder if you were crazy or really down on your luck or having the woman you’ve had a crush on for literal months walking by and wonder if you were crazy or just really down on your luck. You prayed it was the ladder.

“Are you okay?” She asks after she gets out of her car, jogging towards you. “Do you need a jump?”

She’s in high waisted jeans and a blouse. Unlike yours, her hair and clothes dry. “Here,” Minnie says, passing you her umbrella as she goes to open your hood. It’s useless now, but a kind gesture nonetheless.

“I don’t know if it’ll work,” You whisper, “With the rain and all.”

“Are you locked out your car?” She asks, concerningly.

“No.” You say calmly.

“So why didn’t yo–” She pauses and laughs softly, understanding you’re in a particularly vulnerable state.

“Look,” Minnie pauses. “I live right there. Why don’t I take you to my place really quick so you can dry off and when the rain stops, I’ll come give you a jump, hmm?” She says with that same familiar smile that made you weak in the knees when you see it.

As charming as she is, you didn’t want to be pitied, even if you were quite literally having a breakdown outside of your job.

“I don’t know, It’s–”

“Come on!” She says pulling you to her car by your arm. Not letting you finish your potential objection.

-

“Thinking about what’s gonna happen to my car if it’s broken. Thinking about how I’m in a stranger’s huge fucking apartment as I wear her clothes. You know… the usual.” You joke and Minnie gives you that same warm smile as she chuckles. You finish the rest of your wine in one sip. Minnie gives you a concerning look before doing the same just for the hell of it.

“I feel like I only had a shitty shift because I didn’t see you today.” You say, entirely too late to take back.

Before you can try to awkwardly change the subject, “I can’t tell if you’re blaming me for your shitty day or if you missed me.” She says jokingly and you immediately feel a relief fall over you.

“What? Of course not!”

“Of course you didn’t miss me? Wow… Here I thought I was a favorite of yours.” Minnie says fake dramatically and for the first time all day, you feel a real genuine smile creep on your face.

“I’ve always wanted to ask, is Minnie short for something?” You inquire, your nerves slowly zipping away from the glass of wine.

Her eyes light, “No, actually.” She says matter of fact-ly. “It’s just a nickname. My real names Nicha.”

“Nicha,” you repeat to yourself, “That’s pretty. It’s fitting.”

You regret meeting her eyes because the look she’s giving you makes you want to dart your eyes in the opposite direction, but in fear of looking like a pussy in front of the most attractive woman you’ve ever seen, you hold it.

Minnie is looking at you, eyes low and smiling. “You’re so pretty, you know that? Not used to seeing you outside of your work.”

You feel your stomach tingle and your face heat up again. “Yeah?” You say, deciding to play this little game with her back.

“Yeah. You look even better in my clothes too.” She adds.

In the back of your mind, you knew this was crazy. Going to the home of a woman you barely know, letting her wash your clothes and putting you in her’s. Letting her offer you alchohol—at worse— drinking it.

“Was this your plan?” You ask, voice low and sultry. “Get some drinks in me. Try to jump my bones?”

Minnie scoots closer to you, “What? Of course not!” She says, mocking you from a few moments ago. “And don’t say it like that. Making me sound like a creep.” She jokes and shows you that smile you can’t seem to get enough of right now.

Minnie gently takes your hand and opens it. “D’you want me to stop, baby?”

Fuck.

“No.”

“Good.” She brings your hand to her mouth and presses a light kiss to your palm. You look at her with desperate eyes.

“You’ve had such a hard day,” Minnie coos, face inching towards you. “Can I make you feel better?” She whispers into your ear, as if there was anyone else around. You nod, saying yes to whatever that entails.

She kisses the sensitive skin where your ear meets your neck and you let out a soft gasp. You couldn’t believe this. You gently move her face in front of yours, holding her by her chin with your fingers. She bites her bottom lip mindlessly as she looks at yours. Minnie’s eyes flicker up to yours. “Can I kiss you?” She whispers, and you waste no time closing the gap between the two of you. Her lips press against yours firmly before she opens her mouth to take in your lower lip. She sucks at your lips slowly as you moan in between kisses. She tastes sweet like expensive wine and her lips are just as soft as you imagined.

Minnie’s hands find your hips and she grips them, tugging you closer. She pops her mouth off of yours and latches onto your neck. She gathers a part of skin between her teeth before biting down, you gasp unexpectedly before she soothes it with her velvet wet tongue and plump lips.

You’re dizzy. This is all too much. It’s too much, but you can’t help but want more.

She nips and sucks at various spots of your neck, ones that you are sure will leave marks, but you can’t find it in you to care. She comes off of your neck to meet your eyes, her nose touching yours. Minnie tugs at the bottom of the shirt of hers that you had on. She looks at you for permission and as soon as you give her a nod, she begins to bunch up the shirt at your collarbone, leaving your chest bare and exposed. Minnie places her hand on the small of your back before laying you down on her couch as she settles between your legs.

Mindlessly, your hands go to cover your breasts. That is until Minnie goes to lean down towards your ear. “Don’t hide from me. You’re so beautiful.” She says kissing at your neck again. “Wanna see you,” Her hands gently cover yours and move them away, “All of you.” Still holding your hands at your sides, she wraps her mouth around your nipple and you involuntarily whimper at the warm, slick contact. She twirls her tongue around it repeatedly, each time trying to earn another one of the beautiful sounds you make. She lets go of one of your hands, but you keep it there. In obedience. She uses her now free hand to pinch at your unoccupied bud, making you yelp and clench your fist. She switches to the newly pinched nipple and sucks as she kneads your opposite boob with her other hand, now leaving you with two free hands.

You use this as an opportunity to cup the back of her head with your hands as she sucks on your breasts repeatedly. Your hips buck into her involuntarily, wanting more of whatever was going on. You moan out into the open space again before asking, “More.”

It was all you could manage to say right now. Minnie pops off of your nipple and looks up from you at this position, “More what, pretty girl?” You groan at her and move your hips against her body, desperate for any sort of friction.

“I want you.” You say, low, for her ears only.

“Yeah?” She teases you as she creeps one hand up from your chest to your lips. She cups your face, her thumb grazing over your bottom lip. Without her even asking, you open your mouth, allowing her to slip her thumb in with ease. You wrapped your tongue around the lone digit, watching her eye your mouth in adoration.

She slips her thumb from your lips and slowly replaces them with her middle fingers and like before, you obey and suck. You allow her to push them back into your mouth, you coat her long digits in your saliva as you moan around them. “Look at you. Such a good girl.” Minnie muttered. “A good girl just for me.” She grins. Her praise was making your head spin.

Minnie pulls her fingers out of your mouth and lays against you,holding herself up on the forearm surrounding your head. She slips a hand into the front of the shorts she gave you. Your underwear was in the wash along with the rest of your clothes, you’ve never been more grateful, for the sole fact that her slick wet fingers immediately met your clit, making you gasp softly.

“Please.” You beg. Now feeling extremely desperate to feel her inside of you. She kisses your cheek and shushes you. “Shhh. Patience, love.” She whispers. Her fingers circle your clit once more before teasing at your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” She teases.

Her mouth finds yours as she kisses you, slow and languid. It’s at this point too that she decides to push her fingers into you, making you groan into her mouth at the feeling. Minnie starts off slow, her fingers pumping in and out of you at an excruciating pace for you. You whined at the sensation. “Please— Go faster.” You whimpered against her mouth.

“I’ve always wanted to have you like this. Always wanted to fuck you.” She says, almost as a confession. If you weren’t physically at a loss for words, you’d tell her the same. You’d tell her about how you always eyed her long fingers and strong hands as you took her order. About how good you thought her plump lips and nose would look under you as you rode her face. If only she knew.

She fucks her fingers into you more firmly now, at a new pace that makes you moan with every pump. A pace that makes you grip at her arm, your nails digging into her flesh. “F-fuck Minnie. Please.” She bites at your neck once more. The multiple stimulations making you mewl like a fucking kitten.

She comes up from the crook of your neck to admire your face. Your face flushed with a glowy sheen— she’d swear she’s never seen a more beautiful sight. You continue to babble nonsense and whine as she fucks into you, you feel a knot forming in your stomach as you’re being inched closer to release.

“Say my name.” She says softly, almost sounding desperate, but still demanding.

You moan and attempt to do as she says, “Mi—.”

“Nu uh,” She interrupts you, grinning, “My real name.”

As soon as she said that, she began to speed up, her fingers hitting a spot that you felt were sure to make you cum around them soon. Barely able to speak, “N-Nicha…” You whimpered. You feel her smile against your bare skin. Your hips begin to buck against her hand. She sucks on your neck, her face finding that same spot that earns the familiar noises from you. “Close, Nicha…close.” You mutter out between moans. You knew you weren’t going to be able to last long.

The movements of Minnie’s fingers in your pussy we’re becoming sloppier as you clenched around her. “There you go,” she coos, “Come for me, pretty girl.” And with one last praise, your walls tighten around her fingers and your hips grind against her, hard and desperate. You let out a string of curses and whimpers followed by her name as she kissed you all over. “Want you to cum all over my fingers.” She says, sending you over the edge with one last whine before entirely riding out your climax.

Your heavy pants fill the entire room. Minnie’s forehead touches yours while she hovers over you. You decide to break the gap again and meet her in a long, slick fluid kiss. You could feel her fingers still inside of you before she slowly pulls them out of you. Her face still centimeters away from yours, she puts her fingers into her mouth, allowing herself to taste you before turning her head to pull you into a deep kiss once more. You moan into the kiss, tasting yourself on her lips— you swear you’ve never been more turned on. You stay like that for a few mere moments before the beeping of her dryer snaps the two of you out of it.

“Do you feel better, baby?” She asks, coming off of you and sitting up. She fixes her hair and adjusts her shirt.

“Much better.” You say, offering her that same shit eating grin in return.

Minnie cups your face with her free hand, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek before standing up from the couch.

“I’ll go get your clothes…”

[xxacademy]

SCARS AND ALL

gf!Jill Valentine x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: When your beloved girlfriend comes home from a difficult work trip it brings up complex feelings of love and trauma. But, it’s nothing that can’t be mended, especially by sharing each other’s loving affection.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, established relationship, past emotional trauma, weapons (mentioned, not used), descriptions of injuries, wound cleaning, terms of endearment, kissing, & bathing.

She reminds you of a quiet forest in early spring. So lush, and full of life—but always perpetually raining. You find comfort in her beauty, but like that vernal forest, her mind is always a storm. Restless and pouring, her thoughts swirl with pain and grief, and it worries you sick. Rain, rain, rain. You can only hope for better days, you hope she can find the calm within her inner sanctum. For one day, the sun must come out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

"You're back," you sighed as Jill stood in your home's entryway. She wore black skin-tight jeans and a really broken-in denim jacket.

She took a deep breath, dropping her bags on the hardwood floor. "I'm back, finally."

You wrapped your arms around Jill, squeezing her tight into your embrace. She rested her head into the crook of your neck, soaking in your touch.

"I missed your smell, y'know," Jill whispered into your skin.

And you missed hers dearly. Jill had a particular smell of moss, fresh air, linen, and sandalwood. It was something of a drug to you.

You slowly ran your hand up her back and combed your fingers through her short brown strands, tucking a piece behind her ear to reveal her face.

A large, fresh wound splayed across her cheek and nose. Dried blood was crusted around the edges, and her cheek was speckled with a purplish-green bruise.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your shaky hands traced along the perimeter of her cut. "Jill—"

"It's fine, I promise."

"What do you mean it's fine? You're beat to shit."

"That's how it goes, you know that," Jill retorted.

"I'm not trying to overreact, I just…"

"You just what?"

"Jill, I feel bad— I just feel bad seeing you hurt all the time."

"It's just a cut. You don't need to worry about me," she said, reaching her hand to her face and feeling her wound.

"It's not just the cut, I'm aware you get hurt. But, I worry about you, I know this wears you down."

"We can talk about this later. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dig," you said, apologetically kissing Jill on the forehead.

"It's okay, I know. This is just a me thing." she sighed into your neck, her voice sounding heavy and tired.

"You need a bath, though," you laughed faintly.

"I smell disgusting."

You breathed deeply, "I mean, there's a bit of what I assume is monster blood in your hair."

"A day in the life of Agent Jill Valentine, I guess." she chuckled sarcastically, pressing a kiss to your neck. "But seriously, though, I'm getting in the bath."

She left your embrace, but not without a kiss, and faintly pressed her lips against yours. "It's good to be home," she smiled, heading for the bathroom.

While Jill was in the bath, you got to work unpacking her bags. First was a duffle bag filled with clothes, an array of guns, knives, ammo, more guns, and Jesus Christ. How many weapons does this woman need?

You pulled out her blood-stained clothes and put them into the wash. The weapons went onto a towel next to the safe, she'll want to clean them before putting them away.

You held her favored combat knife in your hand. The blade was worn down and nicked from years of use and many sharpenings. It was crusted with dried blood and yellowish pus.

This very knife has saved her for damn near everything, but it brought you to tears thinking of all she had to live through. Jill was never the one who needed saving. She's always been the protector. But at what cost? It was always at the expense of her own freedom and well-being.

Your precious girl deserved to be free from the hell that is her inner world.

She had a backpack that was mainly filled with folders, notebooks, medication, and whatever random shit she picked up from her two weeks away. You left that bag for her to deal with, though; she would actually murder you if you misplaced an important document.

Jill called your name from the bathroom, and you instantly met her there.

"What is it?" you asked. Jill was sitting in the bath, her chest pressed into her knees, wincing as she ran her hand down her back.

"My back, I got hit there and need help with it." she cracked.

You sat on the edge of the tub and inspected the damage. An angry red slice from a blade ran from her shoulder blade to her lower back.

"God, I think it's infected," you said, analyzing the swelling around the wound.

"Of course it is," Jill huffed.

"Just hang on, I'll clean it." You rummaged for a first aid kit from under the sink. Although you're not a nurse, at this point, you should be.

You prepped a cloth with alcohol and held it up to her wound, "It's gonna hurt, okay," you tried to warn her, but the shock was more than Jill could have expected.

She winced, recoiling back as you dragged the cold burn of the alcohol along her irritated skin.

"Ow, oh my god, that fucking hurts!" she exclaimed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry. Just give me a second, and I'll be done."

You got her cut cleaned up. Jill's head rested on her knees, which exposed her bruise-ridden body.

Regardless, she was perfect. Her pretty olive skin contrasted warmly against the bubble bath. Her arms were muscular, with raised veins running down her long, dainty fingers.

Although the thought of the bruises made your stomach ache, they undoubtedly made her look tough but no less beautiful.

"Okay, my love, you should be better. Is there anything else I can do for you?" you asked, standing up.

Jill's head still rested on her knees as she answered, "No, that should be everything."

"Okay then," you headed for the door, wanting to give her some privacy.

"Where are you going?" Jill said as you were stepping out the doorway.

"Just to the kitchen, why?"

"You should stay."

"Music to my ears," you hummed, stepping back. And resume your spot perched on the side of the tub.

"It's awfully lonely in this big tub all by myself," Jill said shyly, rubbing soap along her arms. "And how am I supposed to get clean without your help?"

A smirk formed on your lips. "Hmm, I wonder what I can do to fix that?"

"I'm not sure, but I know you can figure it out," she smirked, languidly rubbing soap into her skin.

"Fine," you stripped your clothes and placed them into a pile on the floor.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?" Jill's sleepy eyes admired everything about your figure.

Your cheeks heated as you stepped into the steaming hot bath. You sat behind Jill, with her placed between your legs.

You let out a long sigh as you adjusted to the water temperature, wrapping your arms around her.

Jill took your hand in hers and placed tiny kisses along your knuckles. "I'm tired, so unbelievably tired," she exhaled, leaning back into your chest.

"I wish I could make things better for you." you sighed as you stroked your fingers through her short brown hair.

Jill paused momentarily, swallowing as she found the words, "You already make things better for me. You make life better. You're everything to me."

You couldn't help but feel like it wasn't true. But why would she lie? She makes your life infinitely better, but for a reason you couldn't place, you felt like you weren't that person for her.

Perhaps you felt like her sense of duty outweighed her love for you, Or maybe you couldn't fully understand her trauma.

Your heart skipped, and the only thing you could manage was, "Really?"

"Don't act so surprised; at this point, you're the only thing keeping me sane. You get me through the literal gates of hell."

You laughed genuinely, and your cheeks flushed with warmth.

"See like your laugh, God, how I love your laugh. It reminds me of Summer if that makes any sense."

You laughed again, and a little pit in your belly swelled with warmth. "And you remind me of rain. Your voice is so calm and pretty. It's like water droplets on our window."

"You're quite the poet, I take it," Jill smirked and rolled around so her stomach pressed to yours.

"Only for you." you grinned, tucking a damp strand of hair behind Jill's ear. This angle provided you with an absolutely superb view of her eyes. Although heavy and tired, they radiated love-- love swirled by endless bounds of dark blue ocean. You couldn't resist her any longer and pulled her into a soft, intimate kiss.

Your pouty lips refrained from deepening the kiss too far. The tip of your tongue grazed against hers like a gentle dance. She tasted dizzyingly sweet. Jill gracefully rolled your lip between her teeth, biting and then sucking softly.

"My pretty girl," you mumbled into the kiss, drunk off her taste.

She ran her hand up your chest, your neck, and settled on your cheek, her thumb stroking your jaw with the lightest touch.

Jill pulled away and rested in your embrace, head on your chest, eyes closed. "I'm so happy to be home," she sighed.

You hugged her tight into your chest. "I'm happy you're home, my love."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Something darker than you'll ever know lingers behind Jill’s blue eyes. A darkness that she holds securely within herself. But, the sun does rise, and for Jill, you're her sun. The one person who can love her, scars and all.

[eeulysian]

could i request sfw and nsfw headcanons for dating zoya? hope you have a good day/night! ^^

⟡ . DATING ZOYA HEADCANONS

summary: zoya x afab!gn reader and how it's like to date her!

cw: includes nsfw hcs, strap ons, rough sex, cunnilingus, petplay(?), zoya gets put on a collar/leash

a/n: omg a zoya request... this woman makes me giggle and kick my feet stop. shes so attractive i refuse to believe that no one has a fancy for her bc that's literally zoya... who tf wouldn't be into her?

SFW

✦ omg... have i told you shes such a green flag even if shes a gang leader?? you'd be so safe in her arms bc shes so tall, big and strong... shes really overprotective about you and uses her strength and status as an advantage to ward off weirdos that's trying to go after you

✦ shes your cliche hopeless romantic. every year during valentine's day or your relationship anniversary she'd always spoil you 2x more than she usually does. chocolates and your other favourite snacks, sometimes a bouquet of roses but on most days, it's your favourite kind of flower. she wants to keep in touch with your preferences, and makes sure she gets the things you like.

✦ she wouldn't dare try to hurt you at all because she knows shes a little bigger than you in terms of size and height. she'll always be gentle with you and tries to be careful at all times.

✦ sooo considerate of your feelings. if she did something wrong, all you have to do is tell her and she'll fix it. even if it's a personal problem that doesn't involve her, she'll always be there to help you with it. if it gets physical... well. expect to hear the news that the person who did you dirty got hospitalized!

✦ princess/goddess treatment!! she treats you like the royalty you are and gives you kisses on your knuckles. not only she calls you pet names like "baby" or "pretty girl", she also calls you "my princess", "my goddess" or even "my lady". shes so charming, who wouldn't fall for her? 💕

NSFW

✦ zoya... petplay... zoya on a leash... something about big tall girls that reminds me of dogs... she wouldn't mind getting put on a leash because shes open to experiment any kind of crazy kinks or desires you have, as long as it's not too far.

✦ fucking you from behind with the 9" strap on you guys bought in a store and you pull on her leash to remind her of her duty everytime she suddenly goes faster and harder. but you also can't forget that you're the one having her on a leash, all just because she gives you a good fuck.

✦ she gives you good head as well. with the way she sucks on your clit and plunges her tongue deep inside your clenching walls and keeps poking your g spot. you would cum on her face in no time because of how good she makes you feel.

✦ oh and sometimes you'd love teasing her. i'm sure its not just me who would go crazy over girl abs... who wouldn't? you'd have her sit on a chair while her hands are tied behind it, sitting on her lap and graze your fingertips over her abs, telling her how hot she is and kissing her collarbone, all while she watches you with an amused smirk. ugh, who wouldn't be inlove with such a hot woman like her...

© 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗲𝗲𝘂𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻. 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗹, 𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁.

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

Article written by Ajda Gregorc, published in the November/December 2024 ELLE Slovenia Magazine. Print and digital versions of the magazine are available for purchase.

Scans and English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu and a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Full article translation, scans, and Spotify link are under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

With Kris Guštin, the music author and guitarist of Joker Out, we escaped to another side of music, and with that, to his other passion. We talked about style and everything connected to it. There will also be no shortage of this in the band's third album, titled 'Souvenir Pop', which is released on the 15th of November—one week after the issue of Elle you’re holding now. How perfectly synchronised we are!

PHOTOS URŠA PREMIK, STYLING ALENKA BIRK

At Ljubljana’s Moderna Café, on a fresh but lovely autumn Tuesday, when everyone’s still at work or in school, he arrives in a dark green jacket with a checkered pattern, awesome trousers, and her necklace. This time, the menu is not serving music and life, but matcha and "all things fashion." I’m in a regular trench coat and a white T-shirt, but luckily he doesn’t judge people by their style—instead, the style might be what piques his interest to converse, if it's good, of course. Besides, he's the one being interviewed. So, let’s begin! AJDA GREGORC

Interviewer: When did you first discover your personal style or the field of fashion? Was it in childhood or a bit later?

Kris: I roughly divide my life into two periods: before I first held a guitar, and after. When I really got into playing and ventured into music, my world opened up in all areas. Discovering fashion definitely falls into this second period, so the post-high school era. To be completely honest, my style in high school wasn’t something I’m particularly proud of today. (laughs) My girlfriend and I still have a photo of me wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which is a proof she truly loves me, since that look was far from the best choice. (laughs)

When did it evolve from just a aesthetic impression to self-expression?

My first contact with fashion as a form of art or expression was during our band's first music video or fashion shoot, when I realised that this is also something you need to consider as a musician. At first, it seemed to me like a fairly peripheral element, but as our career developed and we met new people who gave us more insight into this, I began to understand its significance, what I could personally gain from it, and what we as a band could gain. This quickly developed into standard practice. I was increasingly exposed to fashion; we had more and more costume rehearsals and stylings, and two years ago, we even got our first proper stylist. And then I really committed to it—at around nineteen or twenty. Before that, my philosophy was always to "just wear whatever I first find in the closet," but then I shifted to "I'll wear things that would make me stand out from others". But this process was a long one.

So, your style development with the band inspired your personal growth too? I’ve always wondered if a young person is compelled to mature in every area when so many 'big things' happen all at once, as they did for you.

Maybe you do "grow old" in terms of personality sooner. Yes, at first I wanted, and still want, to primarily express the difference or uniqueness that I feel inside myself through music, but then I discovered that this goes very much hand in hand with fashion, so I started looking for my expression there as well. Today, it's almost an equally important part of my day.

Which fashion ideas or directions attract you? You’ve probably encountered a lot of inspiration during your travels on tour, right?

Definitely, but speaking purely origin-wise, I think I’m just like any other rock musician—we draw from the rock aesthetic of the ’60s and ’70s, which was also very "in" when my fashion awareness was born. Back then, around 2016 to 2018, here were a lot of flamboyant shirts on the music scene, with a slight hippie influence, which was the starting point. Only later did I start getting interested in slightly more modern clothes. When I was younger, I found myself in street fashion, that sort of Eminem-esque, hip-hop vibe, so very baggy clothes, which I then began to reject when I made the shift toward the ’60s and a slightly psychedelic aesthetic. It makes perfect sense, as humans tend to jump between extremes. When I had worked through that style, I started discovering the aesthetics of the ’80s and late ’90s, which was also reflected in music at the time. The best example that comes to mind is Dua Lipa’s previous album, which was in the style of the “new ’80s,” and the fashion matched that as well. Today, the early 2000s style has come back, but I haven’t fully decided whether I like it or not. As a musician, I was, of course, initially inspired by other music groups. Arctic Monkeys were a big inspiration for us both musically and visually, as was the whole British rock scene, including bands like The Kooks and Oasis. That entire aesthetic has always been strongly present with us. I doubt there’s a single inspiration board at our shoots that doesn’t include a photo of one of those bands or, for instance, the Beatles. And that aesthetic has always been close to my heart, too.

Rockers have always been associated with more masculine fashion elements, while in recent years, many male musicians have been experimenting with more feminine style elements (for example, Harry Styles and Lenny Kravitz). David Bowie was already the one who back then started to blur these fashion boundaries. You, too, wear such pieces and dare to stand out with them.

It happened quite naturally, as the stylists we worked with always chose slightly more “unmanly” clothing for me. This doesn’t necessarily mean women’s clothing, but rather somewhat more androgynous pieces, which I quickly embraced. I found them interesting and appealing because there’s a lot of fresh expression in that style that I don’t find in traditional men’s clothing, though I don’t want to overdo it. I also started experimenting with them personally, choosing many more varied colours. For a while, I was very fond of pink, and lately, I’ve been playing around with orange. On the cover of the album 'Demoni', I wore an orange-pink sweater.

Are we, as an audience here, already mature enough for a musician to present his feminine side through fashion? Does that require courage?

It does, there will always be people who won’t understand you. But for me, when it comes to the stage or a shoot, I’ll wear anything, and if I feel good in it, I don’t worry about what someone thinks. When I walk around "in civilian clothes," however, especially in Ljubljana, I am still aware if I’m dressed somewhat "untraditionally." There’s a certain boundary that I still need to break within myself. On stage, it’s easier because it’s not necessarily a hundred percent my expression; I’m playing a certain character, but personally, sometimes I do need some courage to show up in a particular style. However, the awareness of being different is stronger in Ljubljana than in other parts of the Western world. For example, I never felt that way in London, but still, our capital isn’t the worst when it comes to this.

Speaking of influences, what about other artistic or cultural movements?

I love art deco, the aesthetics of the '20s and '30s, though it doesn’t influence my daily life. In terms of photography, Damon Baker’s black-and-white style is beautiful. The vintage camera aesthetic has recently won me over, which will also be reflected in our band. Musically, over the past year, I’ve been listening to old Italian chansons and older French music, chansons as well, so I’m clearly feeling very retro this year. (smile)

Will the third album visually stand out from the previous ones then?

Yes, it will be very different. In the last two, we used a lot of colours, but there won’t be as many in this one.

Style can be an excellent tool for expressing an artist's authenticity, but with increasing success, the artist can also become its slave; the line is thin. Do you ever feel the pressure of having to express your fashion style in your private life as well?

No, I’ve never felt like my style owns me; it’s always been the opposite. I’ve always felt like I want more, like I want to dress even better than the day before, especially when it comes to my music career. Perhaps style only hangs over my head a bit when I have no inspiration and would rather wear sweatpants on an ordinary, relaxed day. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but then I do think about what would happen if I ended up somewhere in the middle of the city dressed like that.

It seems that Joker Out has developed a distinct style despite outside influences.

Yes, today we are already very complete in our style. Others have definitely had an influence on us, and I think it’s great that each of them tried to express themselves through us – it was interesting to experience how Joker Out was seen by Ponorelli, and how Andraž Drobnič or Karlo Kirri did. Of course, there is a difference in this, but it also aligns with the development of our music and aesthetics, so all these influences are very welcome.

How much of your personal fashion identity is therefore reflected in Joker Out?

Maybe, as someone who is not an external observer, I can't answer that, but I can say that I was always one of the first to give feedback to the stylist when we were creating our outfits, approving moodboards, and so on. So, I have definitely shaped our style in a direction that suits me. On certain "blind stylings," when we just dressed up, I quickly threw something on myself and then helped look for pieces for the other band members.

What about this photoshoot, where Alenka Birk took over the styling? Did you let her take the lead with her tactics, or did you collaborate on fashion choices? How did the communication go?

I didn’t know Alenka, who, by the way, is an excellent stylist, before. She was recommended by Urša (the photographer, ed.). Later, she confided in me that she had also worked with my father. Alenka focuses on elegant men's fashion, which is a departure from this more fluid fashion; and this suited me because I had never really been photographed in a men's suit, jacket, and tie. I wanted to try something new. I hadn’t seen the outfits before the day of the photoshoot when we met in her small studio in the morning. There were nine of them in total, and we only swapped out a piece or two in at most three of the looks.

This is more of an exception than a rule in fashion photoshoots. Does that mean you felt good in them?

Yes. In some more so, obviously, but in others, you have to trust the people you're working with. When I first look in the mirror, I always keep in mind that if something isn't optimal, it doesn't mean it won’t work well on camera. Even if the pants are too short or creased, it's still worth photographing them, because the photo can be edited later, whereas on stage, it's a different story, and everything has to already be perfect in the mirror. Working with Alenka was very simple; we clicked really well, and I will definitely work with her again.

How linked are your confidence and the way you feel on stage with your styling?

Very connected. As a musician, you want to enjoy yourself as much as possible on stage, and the people who come to listen to you and pay for the ticket deserve to see you at your best, which means you have to feel good in every aspect.

You recently attended Ljubljana Fashion Week. Which of the local fashion designers do you like to follow?

As far as the Slovenian fashion scene is concerned, I’m still quite the beginner, so I only knew the designers we had worked with. This was my first time visiting the Fashion Week.

Which shows did you watch?

On the first day, all of them. I didn’t like everything, but what stuck in my mind was Sarivalenci¹ with their somewhat "country club", Lana Del Rey vibe, and golf moment. I also really enjoyed the Belgrade Fashion Week, as there was an obvious Balkan touch, which I would love to see more of in Slovenia.

¹Sarivalenci is a Slovene high fashion brand created by fashion designer Sari Valenci.

You are a fan of vintage clothes and second-hand shops. What do these pieces have for you that new ones don't?

Honestly, I don’t know if there’s an objective explanation why. I started getting into it because it was popular, and at the same time, it gives you the feeling of getting a more unique piece. At the same time, you're shopping sustainably and not contributing to the production of unnecessary new textiles on Earth, which is great, but I would be lying if I said that’s my main motivation. What I like the most is the experience of "flipping" through clothes, where each piece is different, like a treasure hunt, compared to regular stores where you "flip" through the same clothes in different sizes.

Did your mum, who comes from the Netherlands where people have been aware of this for many years, introduce you to this concept?

I wouldn’t say we talked much about it at home, but I literally lived it. This is probably true for Slovenians in general – almost all the clothes I had as a child were from older peers, or I would take something from my dad, too. When I was done with wearing the clothes, my brother would wear them too. Every piece of clothing that came into our house was passed around, which is a great practice, and it’s still like that today. My sister "stole" half of my sweaters, my mum sometimes takes something too, Maks borrows jackets from my dad, which I’ve also done myself. It's like we all share one big closet! (laughs)

So you have influenced each other’s style in your family, or rather, you still do so? Who has otherwise had the most influence on your style in the past, and who does today?

I don’t remember ever looking at my parents as role models in this regard, as I didn’t really think about it back then, but they definitely influenced me, at least subconsciously. When I see how my mom dresses today, I see parallels with my own style, so she probably did influence me, perhaps more than my dad. As for street style, which I mentioned at the beginning, it might have been inherited from my uncle, my aunt’s husband from the Netherlands, who wore loose sweaters and listened to hip hop. My mum also had an uncle from the Indonesian side of the family, whom I never met, but he was very eccentric. Some of his clothes made their way to us over the years, and when I looked at these pieces in the closet, I was fascinated by how they reflected his personality. Asian fashion became a bit closer to me because of this, and I might even explore it someday.

The heart necklace you wear all the time, even today, is from your girlfriend. Do you ever dress your girlfriend or does she dress you?

My girlfriend is very fashion-oriented and has played a big role in my fashion development. She has always encouraged me when I tried new clothes that, at the time, seemed more radical to me. In this way, she partially shaped me. We also really enjoy shopping together. She dresses me more often than I dress her, which means I ask her for opinion. There have also been times when we’ve dressed the same when it comes to basic pieces; we’ve never really styled each other, but there will probably be time for that in the future.

Where do you like to go for vintage pieces in Ljubljana? Did you find any gems while on tour across Europe?

Textile House Vintage Shop is, in my opinion, by far the best in Ljubljana. The next one is Humana on Stritarjeva street, where I find something every now and then. Abroad, we’ve visited many vintage shops in Dublin, Paris, and London. In the latter, I always go to Brick Lane, which is a street with vintage shops in the east side of central London, where the more hipster area starts. The downside is that it quickly becomes quite an expensive experience.

What kind of information can you deduce about a person based on what they’re wearing? Who, in your opinion, is truly well-dressed?

A person’s style is never a reason not to engage in conversation with them, but it is a very strong stimulator of my interest in that person. If I think someone is really well-dressed, I automatically assume they might think similarly to me and be interested in the same artistic, musical, or visual directions, so I’m more eager to talk to them. However, I’ve often met people who didn’t seem interestingly dressed, and later realised they were amazing people, even if they dressed completely casually.

Your audience expresses itself very differently in terms of fashion, as your parents also mentioned in a recent interview for Elle. How do you as a band perceive this?

Yes, what they meant was that it is no longer the case that you have to be "appropriately" dressed for a rock concert. When we observe the audience from the stage, I would say that the most typical thing for our time is that we are no longer genre-bound. Not just musically, but also in terms of fashion. 30 or 40 years ago, you would see people at a rock concert in leather jackets, black shoes, and jeans, and that was it. Today, you have flamboyant outfits with blue and green hair in one corner, gothic style in another, and of course, people in simple t-shirts and pants somewhere in the middle. And no one feels like they don’t belong; everyone sings our songs, and that’s really nice.

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[coolbeesbro]

TGOFC Leshy Facts (Chapter 6 Spoilers)

There's so much that goes into each character in my au, and the last chapter I dropped had a bunch of lore for Leshy's character, and I just felt like compiling the minute facts that might be overlooked in light of the story that genuinely bring me joy.

Unlike the other siblings, Leshy was just a regular chaser worm who was evolved into something more human (even though humans aren't a thing in this universe, I can't think of a term that would convey the same thing here) through the power of the Green Crown. The others were like regular people already capable of complex thinking, bipedal etc., who came to find their crown one way or another (I'll go into them more in their own posts), so in comparison Leshy is more unpredictable and overall feral in his actions and mannerisms. He also still has a strong connection with the worms and can communicate with them perfectly fine, giving him an advantage over prior gods of Chaos who couldn't control them at all.

Some examples of him being more animalistic is the fact that he's being prone to biting just because, and still having urges like burrowing underground being more comfortable for him than sleeping in an actual bed, and randomly making strange little noises. He also thinks nothing about eating through and ripping up the floorboards in his house, and has Heket bring him spare lumber to store as a "little snack" when he's too lazy to get up and go to the dining hall and raid the kitchen. Every sibling's homes are reflective of their personalities, and where Heket, Kallamar, Narinder and Shamura have furniture and decor, Leshy's home, though normal looking from the outside, is literally just an empty room with the majority of the floorboards ripped up or gnawed through, looking like a storm ripped through the inside of his home. He has no furniture or decor outside of a few potted plants gifted to him by Tebryn (au yellow cat).

Another thing, and this might be controversial, is that he's actually terrible when it comes to taking care of plants. Almost every plant he owns is either dead, or on the brink of death, but he doesn't really know it since he can't see for himself that they are. He use to be good at it, but that ended up being 100% the Green Crown's power. Having not been capable of thinking past basic animal instincts prior to becoming a god, he can't fathom that he might not actually know what he's doing. Tebryn teases him lightly about it, but also doesn't have the heart to tell him that the plants in his window died months ago. There's one plant that's hanging on by a thread, an overwatered camellia bonsai that's now really just a stick in dirt with 3 leaves, and it only stays alive because Tebryn repots and tends to it when Leshy isn't paying attention. That doesn't stop Leshy from attempting to unintentionally over-trim the tree, much to Tebryn's dismay.

When he was still just a baby up until his toddler years, he would often just run around naked (only covered by leaves) and Heket would struggle to just get him to keep at least his cloak on (there'll be a flashback to a scene like that later on). One second he would be fully clothed, she would look away for just a moment, then look back to see Leshy running away on all fours with his clothes in a trail behind him. Now, if not for the fact that he'd get a lecture from the others on why he needs to stay clothed out in public, he would probably be in the nude 24/7.

As a product of his rapid evolution, his appearance from what chaser worms are in present day is drastically different; since while they evolved over time, he was like a preservation of their past. Like how he burrows into dirt, where they no longer have to due to evolution giving them large horns and a larger/tougher build for protection. Instinctually, he still attaches sticks to his head, which was both a defense mechanism of sorts along with helping with hunting. Being partly burrowed in the ground helped him feel vibrations of things walking near him; and with his head sticking up past the dirt, he looked more shrub-like so predators wouldn't go after him, and also prey would be more inclined to walk near him or use him as shelter, making for easier meals.

I also decided to make him a trans man, because why does Shamura get to be the only trans one (also as a youngest child who's a trans man I decided that my comfort character WILL be trans as well.)? With the help of Kallamar he's able to transition with HRT and other surgeries. Nobody but his siblings know he's trans, and is 100% passing as cis to everyone else. He's also the shortest of all the siblings, followed by Shamura, then Narinder, Heket and Kallamar.

There's definitely more than this, but my god I realized just how long this was getting so I'll end it here unless people want me to make a continuation.