#most sold house design

[toychest321]

I cannot stress enough that this might be the most important doll I've posted about.

Meet Jafra, the Palestinian fashion doll.

Information on her took a bit of digging, but as far as I can tell she debuted in either December 2015 or January 2016. She was initially available for purchase through her website, and after a year began to be (and still is as) sold at Hamleys in Jordan, UAE, Dubai, and Abu Dhabi. In 2021 the Palestine Museum began selling her for $49.99 each, and is now completely sold out.

Each doll wears a detailed thobe, the longer one in front for their bridal collection. The thobe is a traditional Palestinian dress with tatreez (embroidery) which uses color to indicate what region the wearer is from. During the First Intifada in the 80s, it became a symbol of resistance against Israeli Apartheid, and of Palestinians' connection to their land. (Credit to Handmade Palestine and @nickysfacts for this information)

As far as I can tell based on discrepancy in stock photos, the dolls with embroidered thobes were considered collectors items with a higher price. Meanwhile the details might have been printed for playline/budget releases, likely to lower the price for better availability.

Jafra's dream is to "empower all the beautiful girls from the Middle East". She lives away from her homeland, but hopes to design and build her own house in Palestine. She grows Chamomile and Thyme in her garden, studies architectural design in college, and always tries to volunteer and help others. Her thobe binds her to her home country, passed down from her ancestors.

"Jafra is beyond a doll... beyond an idea. It's a deep-rooted tradition mixed with history and memories"

I hope I have made it abundantly clear that I do and always will support Palestine, and encourage anyone who considers this genocide a "war against Hamas" to unfollow and block me immediately. You have been given every opportunity to educate yourself and sympathize with the innocent Palestinians suffering at the hands of Israel, and your ignorance does not deserve a listening ear over them.

To my followers, I implore you to do your daily click. Contact your representatives. Attend protests. Donate or buy an e-sim if you can. We need to let our government know we are not going to fucking stand for this, and support Palestinians however remotely possible.

A ceasefire WILL be reached. Palestine WILL be free. No matter what actions Israel and its disgusting supporters commit Palestine WILL NEVER DIE.

Ramadan Kareem, and Free Palestine.

[hopeastrz]

LIBRA THROUGH THE HOUSES: where you adorn the world with a touch of grace♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

CHECK OUT SEPTEMBER SALE: fixed price on any and all of my readings 17 DOLLARS only.

TIP: could also apply to your venus placement!, also graceful as in where or how you’re known to be the most beautiful!

NOTE thank you so much for your support, you can check my master-list here, lots of love xoxo!!♡˚₊‧⁺˖

LIBRA IN THE 1ST HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE AC:

Starting off strong with the divas, the queens and models, the placement of the best looking women i’ve ever encountered, you’re so graceful in the way you handle yourself, the way you walk and present yourself. You may have a very beautiful waist, jaws and butt, sorry to be so upfront but good googly moogly that thang is juicy af, ehem.. your presence is just so adorable and attractive, your outward behavior is always graceful and your physical appearance is on point!, i really love the way you guys dress!, you’re known to have a beautiful face and looks!.

LIBRA IN THE 2ND HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 2ND HOUSE:

The food you cook can never be missed, i just love how you decorate your food and always make sure it looks beautiful, like using pretty plates and utensils with pastel colors, but umm.. please make sure your food tastes as good as it looks, (please don’t come for me) you guys tend to also prefer eating in aesthetically pleasing restaurants and cafés, you might prefer perfumes with vanilla scents (since vanilla is ruled by venus) and somehow you’re make up is always so flawless (tell me why??? What’s your secret!?? Sold your soul to the devil????) you my also have pretty wallets, oh and very beautiful material possessions, like paintings, antiques, and also your music taste is one of the best things about you, lastly your voice is quite charming and graceful, it may be kinda low or soft on the ears.

LIBRA IN THE 3RD HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 3RD HOUSE:

The type of people to drive oh so gracefully, always making sure to follow the rules and have their passengers feel oh so welcomed and comfortable throughout the ride, you may keep snacks in your car, always need to have it smell beautiful, always have your favorite music blasting around the car, you’re the type to decorate it cars with charms and cute aesthetic things.. you may also have been known in your school, you might’ve been popular or you school in general is popular and looks beautiful!, also your neighborhood might’ve looked very nice too, and you’re known around there to be a beauty!.

LIBRA IN THE 4TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 4TH HOUSE:

THE BEST BAKERS I KNOW, QUEENS AND KINGS OF CARBOHYDRATES AND VANILLA, STOP BECAUSE WHY ARE YOUR BROWNIES AND COOKIES SO DELICIOUS HELLO? we need to have a serious conversation after you give me all of your recipes, also why does your houses and room look so beautiful?, you are the real masters of interior design, like you really know the tips, tricks and the just right color schemes to bring out the best out of every space!, you may also have the best home in the neighborhood or have the best apartment throughout the residency. You may also prefer a minimal aesthetic looking self care products even if they weren’t even benefiting, and you may be the best looking member of your family, you’re the image of it, or all of your family members are quite beautiful, i do believe too that this placement indicates having a beautiful spouse!. Also not to sound like a creep but beautiful chests? Breasts? and it’s not even about the size, im talking about the shape in general (ughh don’t ask me how i know i just do)

LIBRA IN THE 5TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 5TH HOUSE:

Beautiful boyfriends?, you really tend to choose people whom you hookup with carefully, if they’re not good looking bye bye to them (not everyone ofc, beauty definition is diverse to people) you’re known to go to places that look very beautiful and sophisticated for vacations?, also your art!, one of the most elegant and creative art makers you’ll meet in your life, you also may love drawing or painting as a hobby, just any soft and Venusian hobby and practice, maybe even you’re a make up artist!, also you’re hair is known to be the most beautiful about you!.

LIBRA IN THE 6TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 6TH HOUSE.

Pilates princesses?, yes yes yes, i feel like you’re the type who look very beautiful while training since you might prefer low impact practices like yoga and pilates, very graceful while you workout, no sweat or any bad smell and you always have a cup in your to stay hydrated, and it kinda makes since because you’re a taurus rising!, people may enjoy going to different kind of workout practices with you, and you might also be known around your coworkers to be very handsome or charming, you may be the most beautiful one in your company, also you might be the type to dress your dogs or pets in general and groom their hair and build pink houses for them or treat them like your babies!, also your bodies are very beautiful, waist area is very charismatic!.

LIBRA IN THE 7TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE DC.

The father of your children, or your spouse may be quite beautiful, or you’re the one who’s known to be a beautiful housewife/spouse!, really charming, if you ever decide to start a business it may be generally focused on venusian themes, like art, clothes, perfumes, makeup etc… you may also hear things like ‘your taste in men/woman’ is very beautiful etc. your spouse may also find you very beautiful, and of you wanna uncover your hidden enemies see who are close to your spouse, who tend to copy your looks subtly.

LIBRA IN THE 8TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 8TH HOUSE.

Well well should i really pinpoint the obvious?, sexy queens and kings, your kinks may involve art in some sorts or ways?, like painting on each others bodies idk, very ‘lady on the streets freak in the sheets’ placement, you may also be known to have a beautiful kitty, also you’re usually sucker for future spouse readings pacs and astrology content on tumblr lmao, keep feeding your delusions my ladies because you may really manifest your ideal one!, you may also make plastic surgeries to fulfill the ideal image you have for yourself (pisces rising).

LIBRA IN THE 9TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 9TH HOUSE.

You may have studied arts in university or architecture and even law, studies that involved beauty and art, or literature and law, you probably went to one of the most prestigious universities, or your uni looked beautiful, has beautiful sceneries. You also prefer to read rom coms or erotic novels for some reason, you really love romance, and also you may travel to specific countries because they’re known to be beautiful and artistic, like France for example, you probably fit every country beauty standards!, (because of the Aquarius rising, fit every country standards but your own)

LIBRA IN THE 10TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE MC.

The most beautiful woman around the workplace and in your career idc, oh also you might like dating people from work, especially those who has a higher position than you!, like your bosses for example, you also may work with some really beautiful people, like modeling career for example!, you work with beautiful woman or even celebrities, also you may have a really graceful and admired public image!, your career also pays you quite generous amounts of money, salary may be good!!, and you may be lucky in this area, you catch people’s attention easily because of how beautiful you are, and also your long term goals may involve marriage, finding/becoming the ideal spouse or change your looks.

LIBRA IN THE 11TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 11TH HOUSE.

The regina George of your friends group and the Zendaya of social media, blessed with grace and beauty, also good company!. Whatever you do you may see people do the same, i know someone who had this placement back in Highschool and she used to wear glasses, whenever she changed them her friends who also wore glasses always loved to get the same glasses as hers lmao and she had a girl who copied her. you also might be known to be very creative and aesthetic on social media, if you have a personal account or a random account for whatever topic you will make sure it looks aesthetically pleasing, you’ll be told things as ‘your feed so aesthetic’ etc.. you also love taking care of your bio and make sure your posts match each other, also i believe this is one of the trendsetter indicators placement!.

You are really so kind and iconic to the point that whoever enters your life becomes better looking and take care of themselves, it seems like they’ve had a drastic glow up after meeting you because of really how iconic you are, you might also open their eyes onto things they’ve never known, think about it.. how many person changed their style because of you?.

LIBRA IN THE 12TH HOUSE | LIBRA DEGREES 7°, 19° ON THE 12TH HOUSE.

Sleeping beauties?, is your second name princess aurora?, im not even kidding when i say you sleep beautifully, like for real, you barley toss and turn while sleeping, if you for example slept on your right side you without any doubt will wake up in the exact same position, you guys rarely snore, talk or even do anything that might be considered annoying while sleeping, also you know these people who wake up with perfect hair and a fresh face in the morning?, that’s you!. You may also appear in your lovers dreams a-lot, or your husband in case you’re married, you might excel in fulfilling other people’s fantasy about you too because may appear to be the picture perfect partner or the ideal trophy wife, and your enemies may be people whom you’ve had a close romantic relationship with or your business partners, and conflicts may end in court.

also this might be kinda random but do you cook seafood the best or like love it the most?, and also do you make the best cocktails or drinks?, your past may be solely focused on romantic relationships or you have a constant fear of relationships going wrong.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part8

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: slut shaming(?)

previous - next

Could you really call yourself an adult now?

I mean, honestly, is there some magical age that makes you a certified grown-up?

If it’s all about age, then nope—you weren’t an adult. Maybe a “young adult” at best, but even then, the life you were living? Let’s just say it was… a bit different.

When everything started happening so quickly, keeping up felt impossible. And let’s face it, that was normal. If you managed to juggle everything with calm composure, you’d probably qualify as Wonder Woman. Life came with its ups and downs, but throw pregnancy symptoms into the mix, and things got extra tricky.

You liked to share what you wanted with others. Talking about your plans openly was just how you were. It wasn’t about bragging; you just enjoyed sharing your happiness. But every single time—without fail—whatever you talked about? It never happened.

That Venice trip you’d been set on for the summer? Canceled.

The dream university? Rejected. That car you were this close to buying? Nope, didn’t happen.

It was like clockwork. Every time.

And the thing was, you never learned. Not really. You’d repeat the same mistake again and again. Life’s law, right? Someday you’d figure it out… though that day clearly wasn’t anytime soon.

Pregnancy, though, wasn’t exactly something you could go shouting about to everyone. That was off the table. But moving?

If you weren’t pregnant, there’s no way you’d have kept quiet. You’d have made sure the entire island knew. And naturally, that would’ve meant it wouldn’t happen.

This time, though, you zipped it. The only person who knew was JJ—and, well, he didn’t really count. Or, okay, maybe he did. Of course, he was important, but not the kind of person to stand in your way. On the contrary, he had your back. He even offered to help you with the whole moving process.

Things happened so fast, you could hardly believe it.

Your dad came home from his work trip, you visited the mainland, met with a realtor friend of his, checked out potential homes—it was like someone had hit the fast-forward button.

You couldn’t decide on anything. You were even okay with a cute little apartment. The list of occupants was simple: you and your daughter. You didn’t need much more.

Your mom, however, had her opinions. She didn’t want a mansion either, but she was firm about the house having enough rooms. One for you, one for your daughter, and a guest room—because naturally, grandma duties. And a yard, because she wanted to watch her grandchild play outside.

So apartments were out. Houses it was. After seeing what felt like a million empty ones, you were ready to scream.

But finally, you found it. The perfect house. The yard alone sold it. You could already picture the memories you’d make there with your daughter. Maybe a swing or a hammock… some comfy furniture on the porch.

You never imagined you’d get so close to your dream so quickly.

It had the three rooms your mom insisted on, was two stories, and honestly, it was beautiful. You loved it. But the idea of living there alone was terrifying.

Still, the deal was sealed.

It didn’t take long—two weeks, tops. When your mom insisted on hiring an interior designer, you didn’t argue much. Secretly, you liked the idea. And once your belongings were packed, it was all done.

All that was left was you.

There weren’t many people to say goodbye to on the island, which was, honestly, fine. Who were you supposed to bid farewell to? Rafe? His family, who didn’t even know you were pregnant? Your friends, who’d probably broadcast the news to the world? No thanks.

Except for JJ.

You’d have been a total ass not to acknowledge his help. Even if his support wasn’t entirely physical, his presence had been a huge emotional lift.

So saying goodbye wasn’t hard.

Ignoring the support he’d given you would’ve been dumb. When you decided to give him a nice surfboard as a thank-you gift, you didn’t overthink it. You just thought about who JJ was—someone who loved the ocean and surfing. Beyond that? You didn’t know much. So you kept it simple. Spoiler alert: he liked it.

You hesitated, thinking a gift might make things unnecessarily sentimental, but he deserved it. Nobody else in his position would’ve treated you as kindly. Even Kooks barely treated each other well. Expecting a Pogue to go out of their way for you? Yeah, no.

But JJ had.

You weren’t super close, but during one of your conversations, he’d mentioned how much he liked the rare nights when his shift ended early. He worked at a pub. In your head, you’d given him two weeks before he got fired—or kicked out after starting a fight. You were that sure of it.

A week ago, knowing the end of his evening shift, you parked near the pub, sitting on your car hood to wait for him. The plan? Give him the surfboard. Maybe even give him a ride home if he needed one.

Fifteen minutes passed. He hadn’t come out.

You started questioning everything—maybe you’d gotten the wrong day? Or maybe you’d messed up the time?

Waiting around for nothing felt miserable. You should’ve paid better attention when he’d been talking about his schedule.

Not that the gift had been planned or anything. The idea had hit you on a whim. You just wanted to do something before you left. After all, there weren’t many people to say goodbye to. And texting JJ a quick see ya felt way too impersonal.

“What are you doing here?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes shooting up from your phone. JJ stood a few steps away, mid-turn before he stopped and faced you fully. His eyes scanned the car before landing on you.

Quickly, you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Making sure you didn’t pick another fight.” Sliding off the hood, you smirked.

JJ rolled his eyes, flashing you a sarcastic smile. “Ha-ha. How funny.”

Unlike him, your grin was genuine. Why should he have all the fun pissing people off? It was your turn.

Unlike him, your lips curled into a genuine smile. Was it always going to be him getting under your skin for his own amusement? No, this time, it was your turn.

You heard him say your name, his tone serious. “No, really. What are you doing here?”

Keeping surprises wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you couldn’t resist messing with him a little. After all, this was the first time in days you’d left the house—and only in your baggiest clothes. Might as well enjoy it.

“Just hanging out.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning the area before gesturing around. “Here? Outside the pub?”

The confusion on his face was nearly comical—borderline annoyed, maybe?

You mirrored his glance at the surroundings, raising your eyebrows. It wasn’t much to look at. Just… a place. “What’s wrong with here?”

JJ let out a frustrated sigh, and for a moment, you couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to annoy him. He genuinely looked upset. “Are you serious right now? You—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw as he stepped closer. Lowering his voice, he added, “You can’t drink. You’re not even supposed to be hanging around.”

So, he thought you’d come here to drink? That’s why he was so worked up?

It was kind of… cute. But poking the bear was way more fun.

You let out a dramatic hum as you crossed your arms. “Not allowed? Says who?” You tried not to laugh at the look he shot you, a mix of exasperation and disbelief, like you’d lost your mind.

“Me. You’re not drinking. Not here, not anywhere. Have you lost it?”

Your lips pulled into a grin, and despite his attempt to scold you, his irritation only made it funnier. Especially since you hadn’t even done what he was accusing you of.

The second JJ caught onto what you were doing, his annoyed expression melted away. As your laughter echoed, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Now, can you just tell me what you’re actually doing here?”

You clutched your stomach, your laughter dying down into a lingering smile. Sure, he wasn’t amused, but you were, and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ve got something for you.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up. He straightened, intrigued. “Yeah?”

You stepped away from the car’s front, glancing back to see him still rooted in place. You gave him a quick head nod to follow. With a sigh, he finally moved. “If this is a gun for self-defense, just so you know, I’m not really clear on the rules here,” he joked with a wink.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please. If I gave you a gun, you’d be arrested in, like, two seconds.”

He laughed, but you could tell he was curious now. Opening the back door, you reached inside. “It’s a thank-you gift. Kind of.”The surprise on his face was priceless. He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Honestly, neither were you until the idea struck.

JJ tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Thank you? For what? For telling you not to pick fights?”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t be serious. “No, JJ. For helping me out.”

He smiled, but it was that classic, goofy grin of his. Any trace of his earlier irritation had completely vanished. He didn’t even glance into the car. “Oh, I get it. Like a ‘without JJ, my life would’ve fallen apart’ kind of thank you? Go on, feed my ego. I live for this.”

For a split second, you considered slamming the door and driving off. Instead, you laughed. Sure, there was some truth to what he said, but no way were you letting him win.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door wider and stepped back. “Nope. It’s just a small gesture. Don’t read too much into it.”

JJ walked over and held the door open, his eyes going wide when he spotted the surfboard wedged into the backseat. His fingers ran over the smooth edges and the blue-and-white design. “You got this for me?” he asked, his voice softer now as he inspected it.

You couldn’t suppress your grin. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s kind of random, but I figured you could use your own board for a change. For everything you’ve done—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It meant a lot.”

JJ’s smile was different this time. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was genuine. “If I don’t take this, I feel like you’d be really annoying about it,” he muttered, pulling the board from the car.

“Absolutely. You wouldn’t want to hear me talk about how I poured my heart into its design,” you teased.

He froze, eyes narrowing. “Wait—you designed it?”

You smirked, holding his gaze. “No. But it’s nice that you believed it for a second.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head as he leaned the board against the car. For once, he wasn’t mocking or making jokes. Instead, he looked at you with something softer, something you couldn’t quite place. “This is… perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.”

He hesitated, glancing at the board before meeting your eyes again. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s how it felt. Deep down, you’d even envied the way he was with his friends. He didn’t know you. In fact, he hated your group. But if he treated you like this—who knew how he treated his friends?

You weren’t used to people doing things for you without expecting something in return. Sure, you had a hunch JJ liked money. Not just you—everyone on the island knew that. But still, the way he talked to you, made time for you… it mattered. It broke the prejudice you had against him.

It wasn’t anything grand. He didn’t buy you houses or cars. He didn’t shower you with jewelry. But he talked to you like no one else did. He made you feel—like you were someone. Like someone whose decisions shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else’s words.

And that? That was worth more than jewelry. More than anything money could buy. It was something most people—Rafe included—didn’t have.

From the moment he heard, he didn’t tell anyone. What friend would do that? Ruthie? Sophie? Who?

JJ did.

And he wasn’t even your friend.

That’s why it mattered. He was just being himself, and you needed that.

“It felt like that.” JJ was holding the surfboard, his eyes catching yours. A strange silence fell between you. Neither of you had expected such a gesture—not just surfing, but the support he’d given you.

You hadn’t expected his support; that was his gesture to you. And he hadn’t expected a surfboard from you; that was your gesture to him.

JJ lifted the board to examine it, the usual smirk still on his face. He was clearly trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “So, I have my own board now, huh? I don’t have to give this one back, do I? Because when it comes to stuff like that, you’re pretty stubborn.”

“No, it’s yours,” you said, smiling. You were grateful for his teasing—it cut through the awkwardness. You could’ve stayed silent for hours. “But if I catch you getting into another fight, I’ll beat you with that board.”

JJ laughed, shaking his head. His gaze flicked between the board and you. He was ridiculously excited about the surfboard but trying hard not to show it. “Fair deal. But just so we’re clear, every cool move I pull off with this board? I’m crediting you. ‘Thanks to Princess for this wave,’ that kind of thing. You’re my sponsor now.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny his antics made you laugh. He was fun to be around. You were glad the whole “status” nonsense between you two seemed to be fading. It wasn’t just you—he had his own assumptions about you too. But it felt like you’d both moved past that. “Okay. Sponsorship’s over. Go find your wave.”

JJ carefully propped the board against the wall, his expression softening. “Jokes aside, thanks. I mean it. This means a lot. Just don’t tell anyone I said that—gotta protect my image.” He smiled, dimples showing as he ran a hand through his hair.

You smiled back, nodding quickly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

As you both grinned, JJ’s eyes flicked from you to the surfboard. Following his gaze, your eyes drifted to his hands, gently tracing the board like it was fragile.

“I’m leaving the island tomorrow.” The words tumbled out, and you saw his hands freeze. His gaze landed on you, but you kept your focus on the board, pretending to admire its design. It really was a beautiful surfboard. “So—I wanted to say thank you.”

His blue eyes pierced through you as if that was even possible. JJ didn’t say anything to make the moment heavier, just nodded. For several seconds, neither of you spoke. Realizing the air had gotten heavier, you shifted your tone to something more casual. “I could drive you home if you want.”

You weren’t the kind of person to offer, but making him carry a surfboard all the way home felt cruel.

JJ opened his mouth to respond, but a car horn blared from down the street. Both of you turned toward the sound. Outside the car, John B and Kiara were leaning against it, with Pope, Cleo, and Sarah visible through the windows. Pope waved at JJ from where he hung halfway out of the window.

When Sarah’s eyes met yours, you instinctively tugged at your shirt. There wasn’t anything visible, but still—you felt uneasy. “Wow,” you said, feigning amusement. “Your entourage is here.”

JJ hesitated, looking momentarily torn. Finally, he sighed, a guilty smile creeping onto his face. His gaze dropped to your hand still fidgeting with your shirt. For a split second, it seemed like he wanted to grab your hand, to stop you.

“Nothing’s showing,” he said, his eyes lingering on your waist. You knew that, but the idea of anyone finding out still terrified you. Especially someone from Rafe’s family. He didn’t want them to know, and neither did you. That’s why you felt the need to be extra cautious around Sarah and Wheezie.

“I know. It’s just—” You stopped, shutting your eyes briefly before opening them again. It was paranoia, but understandable. “Relax. No one knows, I swear.” His hand almost reached out to your arm, but he stopped, remembering his friends were watching from the car.

“Go,” you said, shrugging. You composed yourself. “Looks like you’ve got a ride after all.” You smiled.

JJ paused for a beat, then flashed a crooked smile. He hated the awkwardness lingering between you. “If this board isn’t as good as you said, you’re getting an earful. I’ll call you.” He walked backward, teasing. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words.

As you walked toward your front door, you noticed his movements slow. He stopped, turned, and looked back at you. It was like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten to do. Placing the surfboard down gently, his eyes briefly darted away from yours.

Then he walked up to you and stopped right in front of you. After a brief, silent pause, you felt his arms wrap around you. Was he… hugging you? Seriously? The gesture caught both of you off guard. You’d never imagined this kind of closeness. But then again, you hadn’t imagined buying him a surfboard either. So, it didn’t feel wrong. If buying him a gift made you feel this close, then it wasn’t strange that he’d feel close enough to hug you.

You returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him. His grip was firm, and the scent of salt and ocean filled your senses. How did he always smell so much like the sea?

The hug was short, but both of you felt the strangeness of it. Once again—you felt like you’d crossed a line. Broken some unspoken rule.

JJ shrugged as he pulled back. “Yeah, that’s it. See you, uh… whatever.”

You took a deep breath, watching him stand there. You hated goodbyes. You were going to miss this island, and now—

“Yeah… goodbye.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, trying to steady your voice. You didn’t understand why you felt like you were losing a friend. Like you were going to… miss him?

Stop. Don’t even think about it.

JJ nodded, picking up the surfboard as he walked toward the car. You watched him for a moment before turning to the front door and stepping into your car. Through the windshield, you caught a glimpse of Kiara muttering something to Sarah. Whatever she was saying, you couldn’t hear.

When JJ got into the car, he paused, lowering his head for a brief moment before looking outside again.

He mouthed something to the group. Not to you, but to the friends in the car. “Just shut up.”

When he gave you a quick nod, you returned it before starting your car. Watching them drive off, you felt a strange mix of relief and melancholy. You’d thanked JJ, and that was all you wanted. It was done.

Except for the quiet ache of losing a friend.

You’d left only a few clothes back at the house on the island. The furniture and everything else stayed in your room. Your parents insisted the room remain untouched—they wanted you to know there was still a home for you there. They even promised not to change a thing.

The first few months were bound to be hard; you knew that. Living alone was going to take some getting used to. But you hoped it’d all be worth it when you finally held your baby.

Now, you were sitting on the couch in your new place, sipping a green smoothie. You’d have given anything for a coffee, but pregnancy meant sacrifices. A little caffeine might not hurt, but you didn’t want to risk it. The smoothie was healthy, though it tasted awful.

It had only been six days since the move. You’d allowed yourself time to explore the area, taking walks around the quiet streets. Your parents had offered to stay with you for a few days, but you politely declined. You wanted to settle in on your own. Leaning on their warmth and presence only to have it ripped away later would have made the loneliness worse. You couldn’t let that happen.

Morning sickness had eased enough for a few walks, so you’d wandered the calm streets near your house. Quiet, orderly, nothing like Outer Banks. You couldn’t help but compare the two. Everything here was different. The people, the lifestyle—it all felt so structured and tame. But a part of you missed the chaos of the island. The freedom. The absurdity of going to the store in a bikini without anyone batting an eye. That tight-knit community where everyone knew each other’s names.

You’d visited the local park a few times. It was rarely crowded, and you hadn’t met anyone yet. By the time you arrived, most of the adults and kids were just beginning to trickle in.

So, here you were: your own place. Did that make you an adult?

How did adults even make friends? Scratch that—how did anyone past a certain age make friends? As a kid, it was easy. Just ask someone to play with you, and that was it. Middle school? Same thing.

But now? You didn’t know a soul here. What were you supposed to do? Walk up to someone and introduce yourself?

Terrifying thought.

Still, maybe worth trying, right?

-

Socializing wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Your eyes scanned the park’s scenery. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and birds chirped in the branches above. A group of kids played in a sandbox, their laughter mingling with the faint sounds of distant traffic.

You clasped your hands over your stomach, exhaling deeply. “Maybe this is good for me,” you thought.

But the whole idea still felt horrifying. Sitting at home would’ve been worse, though. At least you were out, breathing fresh air.

Introducing yourself to someone, though? Out of the question. No anxiety attacks, but your chest tightened just thinking about it. No, you’d just sit and enjoy the park for a bit. That would be enough.

Your gaze dropped to the book in your lap: Healthy Nutrition and Development During Pregnancy. You fiddled with the corner of its cover. Would someone else find this funny? Carrying a guidebook instead of a novel wasn’t something even you would’ve expected a few months ago. But here you were, on the verge of a whole new chapter. Screw what anyone thought—you were preparing for your future.

Suddenly, the bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. The movement snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to find a middle-aged woman with an energetic demeanor. Her dyed-blond hair revealed a hint of gray at the roots, and a steaming coffee cup rested in her hands.

“Ugh, I hope I can finish this before it goes cold,” she muttered to herself before calling out to the playground. “Tati! No running, sweetheart!”

She waved toward the child before turning back to you with a wide smile.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she chirped.

You gave her a polite smile, nodding. “It is,” you replied, subtly shifting your book closer to your lap. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hands, narrowing slightly as if trying to make out the title. “Is that a… guidebook?” she finally asked.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yes,” you said simply, hoping that’d be enough to end the conversation.

“A pregnancy guide?” she pressed, her curiosity accompanied by a cheerful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How sweet! Helping out a sister or expecting a niece?—Oh, where are my manners? I’m Viola.”

Her question caught you off guard. You hesitated briefly before giving your name. “Uh, no. It’s for me,” you said with a small smile.

Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes widened, her grin turning stiff and awkward. “For you? Oh…”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. She had seemed friendly at first, but the subtle judgment on her face now was impossible to ignore.

“How far along?” she asked, as if the question was perfectly natural.

“Sixteen weeks,” you mumbled, pretending to smooth the book’s pages. The weight of her gaze made your skin crawl.

“Ah, so young,” she murmured, taking a long sip from her coffee. When she lowered the cup, her eyes lingered on you, as though dissecting every detail. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Twenty,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral but feeling the words land heavier than you intended. You watched her eyebrows knit together as she took a sharp breath.

“Twenty? You look barely old enough to drive!” she exclaimed, clearly not trying to be subtle. Then, almost conspiratorially, “But… you must be married, right?”

Your hands instinctively moved to rest on your stomach, but you hesitated to respond. The silence must have been answer enough because her eyes flicked from your belly back to your face.

“Oh,” she said knowingly, her smile tightening further. “So… is the father still in the picture?”

What was this, an interrogation?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. Was it the tone of her voice? Or the audacity of her questions? Whatever it was, it stung. “That’s not something I need to discuss with you,” you said firmly, fighting to keep the frustration out of your voice.

Viola shrugged, but her scrutinizing look didn’t waver. “Fair enough. But raising a baby at your age, and without… well, you know. It’s going to be tough. Don’t you think this was a bit… impulsive?”

Her words hit like a cold wind. You tightened your grip on your stomach and tilted your head slightly. “That’s none of your business,” you said, your voice harder now.

Viola didn’t back down. “Yes, maybe you’re right. But people talk, sweetheart. And usually, they judge the ones they think made the wrong decisions…” She paused, pursing her lips. “Well, they judge.”

That was all you needed to hear. You tucked your book under your arm like you were putting it in a bag, got up, and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave,” your tone colder than even you expected.

Viola raised a hand as if trying to smooth things over. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said, but the look in her eyes betrayed the opposite. “I’m just saying this for your own good.”

You could shove your “thoughts” up your ass.

Turning on your heel, you walked toward the park’s exit. The sound of her coffee cup being placed on the bench and her murmuring words echoed behind you. A fresh start sounded nice, you thought. But a new beginning wasn’t a guarantee of escaping old judgments.

There was no way you were going out to socialize again anytime soon. You hated that woman. With every fiber of your being. The way she judged you with that smug little brain of hers—it made your blood boil. You had no memory of how you even made it back home.

You made yourself some hot cocoa, hoping it would calm your nerves. Honestly, lying flat in the grass wouldn’t have been enough to shake off the anger at this point.

Even though you tried to distract yourself—knowing full well that stress wasn’t good for the baby—it wasn’t working. The incident replayed in your mind on a loop. You were certain you’d shiver every time you walked past that park again.

Who did she think she was, anyway? How could someone pass judgment on a stranger like that? The sheer audacity—it was baffling.

The sound of your phone notification pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Glancing over, you reached for the phone resting on the couch.

You waited for a reply, but when nothing came, you set the phone down again. At least one of you was having a good day. Even though you felt like you were on the verge of exploding, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The sudden ring of your phone startled you. You looked over, eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. JJ Maybank was calling you. Right now.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you grabbed the half-full cocoa mug from the table with your other hand. You weren’t going to drink it anymore. You were too annoyed to even think about washing it, but you figured you could at least move it somewhere out of sight. JJ’s voice came through the speaker, and despite everything, a small smile crept onto your face. For all his antics, he was a decent guy.

Heading toward the kitchen, you heard the cheerfulness in his voice as he began, “Used it this morning.” He was talking about the surfboard, excitement practically dripping from his words.

Frowning slightly, you placed the mug on the counter. This morning? Shouldn’t he have been at work? “This morning? Weren’t you supposed to be at work?”

There was a brief pause before JJ let out a muffled laugh. “Got fired,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Honestly, with him, it kind of was. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You weren’t surprised—of course, you weren’t. With the phone still pressed to your ear, you wandered over to the window and glanced outside. “Figured,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, his tone now teasingly accusatory. “Wait a second. Did you bet on me?”

Smiling, you shook your head even though he couldn’t see it, your attention momentarily caught by a cat wandering down the street. JJ cleared his throat, bringing you back. “No, but I wish I had,” you said.

His response came in the form of a dramatic groan. “That’s the meanest thing I’ve heard all week. You’re better than this.”

You turned around and walked toward the kitchen, your tone a little sharper now. “Get used to it.”

JJ responded immediately, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Never,” he shot back. Then, after a brief pause, his tone softened, but he added a teasing edge. “Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a completely different person. And it’s only been six days.”

The way he always knew how to push your buttons—and somehow make you smile instead of snap—was maddening. You found yourself tapping the corner of the table with your fingers, a habit you didn’t even notice until it happened. “I take pride in that,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

JJ came back stronger, more confident this time. “Hey, do you think it’s the hormones, or is it because you haven’t seen my handsome face for six whole days?” There was that familiar cocky tone, but you could tell he was trying to make you laugh. “I’d bet everything it’s because you haven’t seen my handsome face.”

“Even your surfboard?” you teased, your voice lifting just enough to show you were fully invested in the banter now. You moved toward the living room and dropped onto the couch, your gaze briefly flitting to the TV. But your attention was fully locked on JJ.

“Not a chance,” he replied instantly, almost defensive. “The board’s off-limits. Too precious.”

You chuckled, grabbing the nearby blanket and pulling it over your lap. “Then you’ve lost everything except the surfboard,” you said, shaking your head in mock disapproval. JJ’s laugh echoed through the phone, rich and warm, before he quipped, “You’ve been extra rude lately,” his voice carrying a mix of mock hurt and teasing amusement.

You didn’t just roll your eyes—you sank deeper into the couch, grabbing a pillow to prop yourself up. Of course, he’d called just to mess with you. Was he bored? Had he decided you were the best target for entertainment? “I’ve always been like this,” you replied with a shrug he couldn’t see.

“Nope,” JJ shot back instantly, his tone softer but still certain. A brief silence followed, filled only by the sound of your own breathing, before he spoke again. This time, his voice was a little more sincere. “So… how’s it going? Living alone and all?”

You didn’t hate that he asked. Actually, it felt nice to talk to someone. As an adult—or whatever weird in-between phase you were in—socializing wasn’t exactly easy. It hadn’t been easy on the island either, but at least that had been your choice. This wasn’t.

You took a deep breath, realizing the question was harder to answer than you’d expected. “It sucks,” you admitted finally, the honesty not surprising you in the slightest.

“Why?” JJ’s voice was softer now, laced with just enough concern to feel genuine but not suffocating. It was like he always knew how to navigate these moments without overstepping. And honestly, it was strange—good strange.

You tried to sort through the chaos in your head. “I don’t know,” you said with a faint sigh. “I haven’t really connected with anyone. I don’t know anyone here.”

JJ, ever the problem-solver in his own weird way, jumped in with his trademark ease. “Then make friends with the stray cats,” he said, that classic carefree tone of his bringing a smile to your face despite everything.

“I already have you,” you teased back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t possibly betray you.”

His laugh from the other end of the line was contagious. “Not funny.” 

Fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, you hesitated before mumbling, “Are you okay? How are you?” Somehow, over the phone, it felt easier to ask—less intimidating than it would’ve been face-to-face.

“I’m amazing,” JJ said, his voice taking on a flat, almost robotic tone that screamed deflection.

“Your ego is exhausting,” you retorted, matching his sarcasm. Why couldn’t he just answer the question for once? Did everything have to be a game? “Seriously. How are you? After… you know, that day.”

JJ exhaled deeply, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost reluctant. “I don’t live with my dad anymore.”

You sat up straighter, grabbing the remote to lower the TV’s volume. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Packed up my stuff and left.”

It wasn’t exactly shocking. In fact, you were relieved he’d done it. Knowing he’d been living with someone who hurt him was unbearable. But still, you couldn’t stop your brow from furrowing. You couldn’t shake the worry. “Are you staying with John B?”

JJ’s silence was unexpected. You listened to the sound of his breathing, the faintest hitch before he finally answered. “Kind of?”

“What does that mean?” Your voice sharpened with concern. Why was he dancing around the answer when he could just tell you?

JJ sighed again, his tone shifting as though he’d stepped further away from the phone. “They don’t know I left yet. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hadn’t told his closest friends? Why? They weren’t the type to judge him. You didn’t know them well, but you were sure of that much. It didn’t make sense.

Even as your worry grew, you knew pressing him wasn’t the right move. “So where are you staying?” you asked cautiously.

JJ’s tone hardened. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” There it was—his three-year-old tantrum mode. Did he really think people didn’t have the right to worry about him? Idiot.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “As your friend, I’m allowed to be concerned about your safety, JJ. Just tell me where you’re staying.”

His tone shifted again, this time lighter, more teasing. “Friend, huh? That’s nice. Kook and Pogue forever.”

“Shut it,” you snapped, your irritation clear. All you wanted was to know he was safe. “Just tell me already.”

JJ paused, then let out a soft laugh—the kind you knew was covering up something deeper. Even a toddler could tell. “I stayed with them for a few days. Been figuring it out since.”

You frowned. That wasn’t a solution. “You need to tell them,” you said gently.

He responded with the same stubbornness you’d come to expect, but his tone hinted at a smirk. “This is my problem, princess.” Then, as if to shift the mood, he added, “This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone. Cute, right? Now, tell me about your day.”

Despite the worry gnawing at you, you relaxed just a little. He wouldn’t be joking around like this if things were terrible… right?

You hoped so cause—JJ is your friend.

[truly-sincerely]

Comprehensive Dead Three Timeline

Outdated! I've made a new timeline!

Obviously there's varying amounts of speculation here, but I believe this is as close to a reasonable order of events as can be achieved with current, in-game information

1460s

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about the Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

1470s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gortash gets involved with black market arms dealing

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate

The Emperor dominates Duke Stelmane

1480s

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Hall of Wonders test mission - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machinery & iron

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Wyll Ravengard enters pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate

1490s

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash) - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about the Crown of Karsus

They visit Ketheric and learn of the illithid colony under Moonrise

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin leaves Durge in an illithid pod - Orin tells the Chosen she now speaks for the Temple of Bhaal - Orin likely told Gortash, Ketheric, and Balthazar something vague about Durge’s disappearance being related to Durge’s religious crisis and let their imaginations do the rest

1492

Durge breaks out of their pod & is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

Minsc captured by Absolutists at recruitment rally in the Undercity

Minthara Baenre is recruited by Orin and Ketheric

Gortash has the Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Elturel falls into Avernus

The brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tells Ketheric to send a team to get the Prism - A nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid is sent - Kressa’s husband arranged for Durge to be on the nautiloid

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel (?)

Nautiloid picks up Gale (?) & Astarion in Baldur's Gate

Nautiloid picks up Karlach & Wyll in Avernus

Nautiloid crashes, game begins

[sugudoe]

➥ ──── MOMMY MILKERS ‼️ BITCH. ღ

gojo satoru is the greatest mind behind MIB, also know as MU IOTA BETA, although is a inside joke the name Mommy mIlkers Bitch, because he thinks there is a large amount of members with huge breasts. Satoru is filthy rich and spoiled, he was a rainbow baby and an only child for some time, everything he wants he can have. his parents only asked him to go to college for business administration, so one day, gojo’s enterprise can be in his good hands. he doesn’t mind, had no plan of life instead of just enjoying it, but he hopes he can still have a lot of vacations all around the world. that’s actually his favorite thing to do, just get up from the bed and travel. gojo and the MIB were pretty popular on campus, but what took their social medias sky rocketing was the brilliant idea to create a tik tok account for their fraternity, showing their parties and random funny moments. of course, what everyone really wants to see, is their fucking beauty. he is the older adoptive brother of megumi, who is too young for fraternities, but gojo thinks he can bend the rules if megumi wants to get inside (gojo can’t & he doesn’t).

geto suguru is studying graphic designer by his choice, although his parents disagree, they can’t say no to him — after all, they are scared for their son and want him to be happy. truth is, geto and gojo had been best friends since high school, and it’s no secret that suguru tries to hide about his long battle with depression. things are getting better as of lately, specially now that his two younger sisters, mimiko and nanako, are allowed to have a cellphone and had been calling him daily. geto can be found in three different places, besides the MIB’s house — the art room of college, choso’s tattoo parlor and in the garage with sukuna, although for only a few minutes before he himself leave with his bike, that he calls his love. he is the vice-president, and helped gojo with the ideas to create the house, he also is the reason why nanami got inside because suguru knew they would need someone that knows how to be an adult, he got surprised with nanami’s true personality later, but hey, he is doing a good job, no complains. his favorite companions outside of the members are the pets and shoko, he adores her very much, she is also a best friend from high school that cared for him in his most vulnerable depressive episodes.

zen’in toji comes from the respected family zen’in, but unlike his relatives, toji does not give a fuck about reputations and traditions. that has casted him aside, something he is no longer sad about, he actually loves that he can do as he pleases. he study physical education, has always had a talent for fights and training, and likes the idea to be able to teach others some day. his first students was his two little cousins, maki and mai. he used to work as a partial time private trainer, but after tik tok found out, it was getting too uncomfortable with those new clients, so he started to train his friend sukuna and his little brother, yuji, the payment is extraordinary. he has a pitbull puppy named kitana and she is one of the pets at the house, and his pride and joy. he got inside MIB because gojo wanted to have him, toji refused at first, until satoru showed him the private gym of the house and toji was sold right away. he gets weirdly along with megumi whenever the boy comes visit, they bond over their dogs and strangely looking resemblance.

nanami kento is not the MIB’s president, but he stills acts like it, and gojo is more than happy to let him have that unofficial position. gojo makes the parties and pick the box with candidates names, nanami takes care of the expenses and pick the best to get into, to avoid fame seekers and people with bad reputation — some thinks he started that after gojo put sukuna inside the house. nanami takes care of the formal parts, that’s mostly influenced by his finance majoring, he spends most of time inside his room studying or bakery hopping to experiment new pastries. don’t let this take you away from the truth, this man is not a calm, educated and study inclined person, he is half-french and therefore gojo has to be careful, or nanami will start a revolution and put satoru out of the house. he easily gets distracted by his interests and his anger, and since MIB becoming a hit on the internet, he is extremely mad. nanami cares a lot about his private life, he blocked gojo on twitter after satoru quoted kento’s account and he gained a lot of weird followers — he blocked most and went private. nanami is very found of ino, and as the initiation process of complying to the older members’s request, he had to shave his head (suguru demanded as a revenge for cutting his waist long hair to his shoulder) ino was quite sad, but did it, nanami did as well to support the youngest. surprising everyone, because nanami loves his long blonde hair as well. everyone was touched, so gojo cut his as well, kinji dyed on ino’s choosing color (purple) and even sukuna did as well, but red — all was done by kinji’s partner, kirara.

kamo choso is the middle brother of sukuna and itadori, through their shared mother. he is studying computer science, but everyone knows he is doing just to get the degree, give to his mom and go do his own thing — tattoos! ever since high school, he started to work in tattoo shops as receptionists, then he started a course and now he owns his own mini parlor near campus, named garu’s tattoo, because he is often compared with the character (it has absolutely nothing do to with the fact he used to let his younger brother do his hair the same way, everyday for high school). choso doesn’t trust anyone but himself to make his own tattoos, but he folds easily when yuji asks to try, so he has a mini spider-man doing peace signs on his calf. it’s his favorite tattoo. he got into MIB because he started to be friends with his favorite client, geto, and suguru invited him. choso’s mom separated sukuna’s father and got with choso’s dad, then she left and met itadori jin, he accepted all her sons as his, and choso secretly hopes one day jin will adopt him. he likes that MIB went viral because now he has more clients, what he doesn’t like is how everyone views him as a bad boy, when he is clearly a sweetheart.

shiu kong is a transfer student from south korea, and just like nanami, he is majoring in finance, following his dad’s and grandad’s steps. his family is very rich and stoic, but shiu came to the world in a completely different way. he likes to crack jokes, smoke a cigarette every hour, and to make his family hair get white earlier. the last post he has on instagram is a video of him doing hearts, but purposely he posted because it looked like a middle finger. shiu is best friends with everyone, but mostly sukuna and toji, and outside of it he’s friends with shoko and uraume. he thinks it was bound to happen to be a hit on the internet, because of his funny and chaotic way! his twitter is where he shows his true self, actually, the header is his own picture from the day after fucking a neighbor before moving out of the apartment to MIB’s house. it’s been a month and a half and he’s feeling the effects of not getting laid in some time, not because he doesn’t have options, gojo says he wants someone to match his freak while doing a dance — he slapped gojo after that. the reason for he to be in MIB is because he thought it would be funny to piss off his dad, it worked.

hiromi higuruma is the most normal person in the house, which is something to worry about. his free time used to be spend traveling to rural areas of japan, now he stays in the sofa with achilles, his cat. he used his money to make a game room in the house with lots of pool tables and videogame consoles. he likes to bet with everyone, and he keeps winning. talking about that, everyone avoids to argue with him, at first he cared too much and would own all the discussions, specially when he would bring out the projector and show evidence of how he was right — don’t fucking argue with a lawyer. nowadays he is much chill, that’s obviously because he is in exam season and keeps inside the house or library, he left the group chat to focus on his projects and the court hearings he now attends. nanami is the one to send him all the messages he needs to see and to lend his phone in case hiro wants to add something to the chat. hiro was obliged to be part of MIB by his best friend, nanami. oh, the classmate in his twitter’s bio is utahime iori, she doesn’t now his twitter and he doesn’t know hers.

ino takuma is a lucky motherfucker. he is the youngest at the house and the newest member, out of many candidates, nanami chose him, and for that he is eternally grateful for his senior. majoring in history and having a talent for photography, ino likes to be outside all of the time, he takes pictures of every bright thing that seems to copy his happy aura, everyone finds him adorable. nanami tried really hard to keep him away from gojo, but it happened eventually, satoru is the one that matches his freak and they both kept adding fire to the other crazy ideas. they are the ones doing weird challenges and pranks on the tik tok account, and nanami keeps grounding them for it. besides hiro, achilles adores ino and is often on his lap. takuma introduced the movie “house bunny” to the boys once and now gojo wants to have the “sacrifice a virgin” party, after he found out ino is a virgin. he is embarrassed, but still thinks i’ll be awesome to slide down a fake volcano and kiss a pretty girl. . . maybe more.

ryomen sukuna is. . . something. everyone knows that one of the reasons MIB’s tik tok became a hit is thanks to his quick appearance, after all he was already know on social media before, ryomen is a professional boxer, as a way to let his anger issues dissipate and avoid hurting his brothers or friends, he punches sand bags with toji and later, willingly strangers. he is know as “one punch man” because one time he was seriously pissed with his dad, went to the ring and with just one punch, won the fight — he hated it, he needed more punches throw. ryomen is majoring in forensic science, when asked why he says is because he wants to know how to get away with a murder properly, of course he is joking but the stoic face sure scares everyone. adding to his curriculum, he also likes to repair cars, MIB’s garage is filled with everyone’s cars and there is space for sukuna’s three vintage babies, he always finds some problem in them whenever he needs to clear his mind. sukuna’s best friends are uraume, shoko and shiu, because they all don’t give a fuck about his anger issues and treat him normally. he is adored by kinji’s partner, kirara, and he actually adores them as well, but he avoids them because he can’t say no to kira, and they try to make ryomen a model. sukuna is, with choso, the target of people with the “i can change him” mentality, he adores it because it’s fucking funny the desperation. he would rather eat glass than admit, but he’s only in MIB because choso was scared to go alone, and he wants for yuji to come as well when he gets of age, he thinks his younger brother will like it. he is a good brother, he just doesn’t say much, good thing choso and yuji understand him and love him either way.

kinji hakari is the only member who is in a serious relationship, if anything, he is the only one getting any action. he never had any plans of being in college, only following his partner and luckily discovering a talent in fashion school, that was what got gojo satoru’s attention, and he begged for hakari to be part of the MIB. he almost declined, but thought it would be cool, and with his baby’s permission, he accepted. kinji brings more chaos to MIB, he likes to be the cause of his friends headache in the group chat, and also to get blackout drunk in the parties and make out with kirara on every surface. he got a lot of attention on his social media as well, but he does not give a fuck, because he thinks everyone is trying to get into his pants and he is a loyal dog man, so he says no no interactions with anyone besides his friends and love.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: all the appearances, are just for reference, there is no fancast just pics with the characters vibes. you can imagine them as you please. but i did edited sukuna’s hair so applause. i know nanami is half danish, but i want the revolutionary gene of france on him. TOJI’s AND GOJO’s ig has miD instead of miB, pretend you didn’t see it, pls.

✶ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: please comment if you would like to be tagged. all the chapters will be linked in this post and with the first tag @minzxec @d3jecteddoll @shuuji71 @emilyywhyy @ducky1232 @mfcherry

[recycledmoviecostumes]

This Edwardian-style gown was created for the Ascot scene in the original 1956 Broadway production of the Lerner and Loewe musical My Fair Lady. The scene was filled with beautiful gowns, all in black and white, in keeping with the famous “Black Ascot” of 1910, when King Edward VII died shortly before the event, making it inappropriate to wear color. Thus, those who attended wore all black, aside from accents of white from pearls and flowers.

The gown was designed by Cecil Beaton and executed by Helene Pons based on his sketches. The cream crepe dress has black velvet stripes and an embroidered lace bib. The photo above most likely shows actress Melisande Congdon in the costume, as she performed in the play for three years.

When Truman Capote decided to throw his famous “Black and White Ball,” – he used the scene from My Fair Lady as its inspiration. Deborah Davis’ wonderful book The Party of the Century mentions that much of the gossip about town was about “who” everyone would wear. Amanda Carter Burden, daughter of Babe Paley, was able to sidestep this conversation and not commit to any one designer when she chose a gown from the film My Fair Lady. A drawing of Amanda in costume, sketched by Kenneth Paul Block, appeared on the front page of Women’s Wear Daily.

But was her gown from the film adaptation of My Fair Lady? Amanda was based in New York City, and it would have been far easier for her to obtain one of the costumes from the Broadway show.

In addition, no costume in the film accurately matches the one she wore to the ball. There is one that is similar and clearly based on the same design, but it appears to be a different piece. 

In 2015, the dress from the Broadway production went up for sale, where it sold for $1280. It contains a lace dickey that the auction house noted has been added post-production. The dickey is clearly visible on Amanda Carter in the Black and White Ball photo. While I cannot confirm for certain that she is wearing the dress from the stage production rather than the film production, I am confident that she is.

Costume Credit: Katie S.

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[dilemmaontwolegs]

Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x wife!reader Summary: Your husband takes nesting to a whole new level with the paradise he’s found to start his family. Warnings: established relationship, pregnant!reader, fluffiness WC: 1.4k

The property Sebastian had chosen to raise his children upon was everything you could have dreamt of and more. There were rolling meadows full of fragrant flowers, forests of conifers and evergreens, and even a lake with an abundance of trout. The house he had designed was built using recycled material and was sustainable to run with the dozens of solar panels on the roof. He had truly future proofed everything to live a life as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Did you know honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil if you store it properly?” Sebastian barely looked up from the old set of drawers he was upcycling into an apiary. “There were pots of honey found in ancient tombs in Egypt, around 3000 years old.”

“I still don't see why we need bees at our home.”

“Because, my love,” he said as he placed his hammer down and pulled you into his arms, “this is our future we are building. Without bees there’s no pollination, with no pollination there’s no flowers, or fruit and vegetables.” His hand splayed across your swollen belly, feeling his son’s kicks against his palm with a smile. “It’s our responsibility to protect our future.”

The outdoor sofa where you were reading was a current favourite place of yours. It was tranquil and warm and allowed you to get off your feet for a little bit while your husband pottered around in the garden. With only a few weeks to your due date everything ached from your neck to your ankles so you kicked your feet up and listened to the birdsong.

The hiss of pain was one you had come to know well recently and it only took a minute for Seb to appear at the edge of the garden, the metal gate squeaking on its rusted hinge. He cupped one hand over his cheek, one eye closed with a wince as he ascended the stairs to the deck.

“You wouldn’t get stung if you used the smoke, love,” you softly reminded him as he took a seat and pulled his hand away. “Oh dear, that’s a big one.”

“We don’t know the long term effect the smoke has on them, it could be poisoning them,” he said as he turned his head so you could use your nails to pull the stinger out without squeezing more toxin into his cheek. “They will recognise me soon and realise I’m not going to hurt them.”

“If you say so.” You loved your husband but you weren’t so sold on the trust building exercise he found himself in. More often than not after going to check the beehive you found yourself in this position, grateful he wasn’t allergic. “How is your queen doing?”

His lips pulled up into a smile and he sat down on the edge of the seat, pulling your feet onto his lap and massaging your swollen ankles. “You tell me, my sweet, how are you doing?”

Emotions swelled in your chest and you cursed as he laughed, leaning closer to wipe away the tear that escaped. “Damn these hormones. You should really stop being so nice so my poor tear ducts can have a break. Can’t you just be a jerk?” His laugh grew and with it the kicks increased. “Yes, yes, daddy’s laughing at me.”

“I would never laugh at your mother,” he chuckled, lifting your shirt to press his lips to your belly. Stretch marks littered the skin and you dared not to think about the other changes that you couldn’t see below the swell, but he still made you feel beautiful. “Everything she is going through is my fault.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a smile. “Daddy spent a lot of time romancing and seducing me, and now here you are.”

Seb looked up, his long hair hanging in naturally soft waves around his face. “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could hardly concentrate on the race after seeing you.”

“It couldn't have affected you too much,” you said as you tucked his hair behind his ear, “you still won.”

“I had to make a good impression somehow, since I could barely speak a word when we were introduced,” he admitted as he looked out over the garden he tendered.

You followed his gaze knowing he was going to be a great father considering the care he gave to the garden, and you. “It was your eyes I fell for anyway, they looked sweet and kind.”

The rows of plants were just flowering and you traced them to see the little bursts of yellows that all too soon would become bright red ripe tomatoes. Next were the beans, too many varieties to count, all climbing the trellis Seb had made from the wood of fallen trees in the forest. Further beyond were your favourites, the bushes that were brimming with berries of every flavour. Each morning you would amble your way to them with Seb and a bowl, pointing out the juiciest looking berries for him to pick for your smoothie.

Patting his good cheek, you shuffled to sit up and swing your legs off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

With a groan you pulled yourself to your feet and rubbed the straining skin at your sides. “To get some ice to stop that swelling,” you said as you pointed to his face. “You need to be able to see properly if you are thinking about getting back in a race car this weekend.”

“I can get it, you rest.” He followed you into the house even after catching the roll of your eyes and watched you struggle to bend down to reach the ice tray at the bottom of the freezer. Unable to stop himself, his hands caught your waist and straightened you up before he grabbed the tray. “I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

“I said the same thing, but you still went and got stung.”

“But that’s because I have you to kiss me better.”

You smiled at the softness in his tone and gave him the gentlest of kisses to his swollen cheek, barely the touch of a butterfly's wing. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, I don’t even need this anymore,” he said as he turned to put the tray away until you stopped him with an amused look.

“Nurburgring,” you reminded him, grabbing a tea towel to wrap the ice cubes in.

He had been excited since he got the call from Christian Horner to drive the historic track, and in a car modified to run on eco-friendly fuel no less. He was not going to do anything to miss the opportunity to return to the racetrack, even though he enjoyed retirement and the quiet life he had built in the rural settlement. So, he quietly accepted the ice pack and carefully pressed it to his cheek.

“It’s a dangerous track, Seb,” you murmured as you took over holding it, cradling his other cheek with your palm. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”

His hands came to rest on your stomach, nearly covering it all as he splayed his fingers apart. “Of course, my love. And you need to stay in one piece until I get home.”

You giggled and felt the strong kick responding to his voice. “I have a feeling your son will take his time. Would you resort to one of those dreadful planes if he decides to come early?”

His lips twitched in amusement, used to your jibing over the consciousness of his carbon footprint. “I could probably drive home faster, with a few speeding tickets along the way, but I might be able to lower myself to boarding a plane for him.”

“Ah, that’s a father’s love,” you giggled. “He doesn’t even know what a sacrifice that would be.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack so he could dip his head and kiss you. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

“Except get rid of the bees.”

His lips curled against yours in a smile you felt. “Except that.”

[queenshelby]

MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PART THREE OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction! ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18. MINORS DNI.

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

It had been two days since you were brought to Birmingham from your home country after promises of prosperity and wealth. 

But the cost for this was higher than you ever imagined when you were sold, by your very own father, as property to the highest bidder. 

Now you had arrived at Thomas Shelby's estate, which stood majestically against the backdrop of lush greenery and manicured gardens. The mansion, built centuries ago, seemed to command the landscape around it, much like how its owner commanded people within it.

A maid named Nadia greeted you at the entrance, leading you up the grand staircase that spiraled upwards into a series of breathtaking domed ceilings and magnificent chandeliers. Each room presented an extravagant spectacle of artistry and craftsmanship; it was as if every corner had been meticulously designed to overwhelm even the most jaded observer.

Despite the opulence surrounding you, something felt unsettling about the silence that enveloped the house. As far as you could tell, there was no one else here except the maids and yourself. This was not just a house, but a fortress - an impregnable bastion constructed on foundations of isolation and distance.

"This way," intoned the maid, gesturing down a long hallway lined with oil paintings depicting scenes of aristocratic splendor. The air smelled stale - it had been many years since anyone had breathed life into this grand edifice.

"I will show you to your room," whispered Nadia, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder.

As she walked ahead, you noticed her movements were careful, almost rehearsed, as if she had done this countless times before.

Her gait betrayed an unnatural rhythm, a pattern formed by habituation rather than choice.

She knew the layout of the house inside out, each twist and turn etched into her memory like grooves on an old vinyl record.

You followed her silently, allowing the grandeur of the mansion to wash over you.

Every now and then, you caught glimpses of your reflection in the polished marble floors, a ghostly image of yourself trapped between reality and illusion. You found yourself feeling strangely calm and collected, despite the circumstances that led you here.

Nadia finally stopped outside a door adorned with intricate carvings and gestured you into a room without windows.

"This is where you will sleep and perform your duties," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. There was something eerie about the maid, an unspoken understanding between her and the master of the house.

Slowly stepping into the dimly lit chamber, you took note of the opulent surroundings: velvet curtains hung from gold-plated rails, plush rugs lay scattered across the polished hardwood floor, and delicate porcelain vases filled with fresh flowers graced every surface.

However, the abundance of luxury did little to ease the unease that settled deep within your gut.

The maid turned abruptly, locking eyes with you. "At night, the room will be locked securely so don't attempt to leave. If you need anything, ring the bell by the bedside table," she told you before fluffing up some of the cushions on the bed. 

"I never..." You trailed off, swallowing back tears that threatened to betray your bravado. You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with the maid, knowing full well that any sign of weakness would be exploited mercilessly. "I have not done anything like this before. I was told that I had to because a lot of money was paid for my services, but understand please that I have no experience," you then stammered, knowing full well that you had been purchased to perform sexual acts for your benefactor. 

"The fact that you are so innocent, and young is precisely why Mr. Shelby has purchased you," Nadia responded coldly, turning away to adjust a lamp on the nightstand. 

"Now, let me explain to you what is expected of you around here," she continued, softening her tone slightly.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, and your palms slickened with sweat, though you managed to nod affirmatively, meeting her gaze steadily. "Firstly, you must address Mr. Shelby as 'Sir' at all times. Do not forget," she warned sternly.

You swallowed hard, nodding again.

"You will be allowed to leave your room with another maid, between eight o'clock in the morning and eight o'clock in the evening, but not otherwise unless Mr. Shelby is with you," Nadia explained, adjusting a silk pillow propped by the headboard.

You tried to picture a day spent in confinement, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine.

"Mr. Shelby will inform you directly when he requires your services. Most often he will come here to use you for his pleasure, and he usually expects to be attended to at least twice per day, occasionally more often. You should prepare yourself mentally and physically for his needs because it can get quite overwhelming sometimes," Nadia explained and your breath hitched, but you managed to control the panic rising within you.

"And if I refuse?" you asked, causing Nadia to pause and look at you. "Refusal is not an option. Mr. Shelby doesn't tolerate disobedience. You must do whatever he asks."

Your hands shook involuntarily, but you clenched them into fists to prevent further trembling. You nodded weakly, fighting back tears.

"What he wants...is it...painful?" What you didn't know, what you couldn't comprehend, was whether the physical pain of intimacy would be more bearable than the emotional agony of submitting to someone else's whims.

"Sometimes, but he's gentle enough," Nadia replied matter-of-factly. "Now, you must get ready for tonight. He will be visiting you at 8 o'clock and expects you to wear nothing but a pair of undergarments of your choice," Nadia said before directing you to your wardrobe. "You will lie on the bed and wait for him, understood?" she asked and, again, you nodded. 

"I will be back after he is done with you to change the sheets and provide food and water," Nadia then finally explained before she left you alone in the darkness, save for the faint glow of your bedside lamp. You heard the key turn in the lock, sealing you in the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process everything she told you.

On the bedside table you found a bottle of lubrication next to a bottle of painkillers, both small comforts in the face of the reality of your situation and, when you looked around the room, you also found other items such as restraints hanging neatly from hooks in the wall. You shivered, feeling your anxiety rise.

Then, just before 8 o'clock, there was a knock on the door. You flinched, jumping to your feet and nearly knocking over the lamp.

"It's time," Nadia called through the door. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. 

You stripped off your clothes, leaving you naked in the dim light of the room. You pulled on a pair of cotton panties, their thin fabric barely covering the shame you felt.

You then laid down beneath the thin sheets and waited for your new master's arrival. The tension mounted as the seconds ticked by, the sound of footsteps echoing loudly in the silent mansion.

There was a creak of the door opening, and an intimidating figure emerged from the shadows. His presence loomed large, filling the space with an aura of dominance and power. He wore only a robe, his toned body visible underneath. You bit your lip nervously, unable to tear your gaze away from those imposing features.

Thomas Shelby, you reminded yourself – a name that would forever haunt your dreams. His cold blue eyes swept over you, assessing your worth.

You stared back, holding his gaze, refusing to cower. 

"Welcome, Love," he rasped, his voice like gravel underfoot, but you remained silent, swallowing the lump in your throat. He moved closer, looming over you like a storm cloud, his scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils.

"I trust Nadia has briefed you on your duties?" he queried, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

Your skin recoiled at his touch, but you refused to pull away. 

"Yes, she did," you mumbled hesitantly, your voice cracking under his scrutiny. He studied you carefully, tracing the lines of your jaw with his fingers.

"Good girl," he crooned softly, a strange sense of pride swelling within you. Your resolve wavered at the compliment, but you steeled yourself, reminding yourself of the reality of your situation as he touched some of your bare skin not covered by the white sheet.

"Relax Love," he then said softly as the heat of his hand seared through your skin, sending quivers up your spine.  "You will get used to this after a while," he went on to say and his voice was comforting, yet the words stung like venom.

Your breath quickened, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and your hands instinctively curled into fists beneath the thin white sheet covering you. You wanted to scream, but instead, you simply nodded, unable to find any words to respond.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes appraising your form beneath the covers. "I am going to have a look at you now, eh" he said suddenly, reaching down to lift the edge of the sheet away from your body.

You squirmed and turned red, trying to cover yourself. But he pushed your hands aside gently, staring at you with a mixture of lust and admiration. "I cannot wait to feel your tight little cunt squeeze around my cock when I claim you," he whispered, running his fingertips along your inner thigh, causing you to shiver uncomfortably.

"But first, let me have a look at this little virgin hole of yours, eh?" the man said and his words sent a wave of unease coursing through your veins. You could feel the sweat trickling down your face, mingling with the tears pooling in your eyes. You bit your lip, struggling to contain the sobs threatening to erupt from inside you.

With a gentle tug, he pulled your panties down just enough to expose your slit and your heart pounded against your chest almost painfully.

"I have been told that your opening is particularly small" he murmured, trailing his fingers over your slit before parting your labia slightly, exposing your tiny clit.

"Ow!" you gasped, wincing at the sudden stretch caused by his fingers.

"You do have a tight opening indeed," he grinned wickedly, licking his lips.

Thomas gazed at it with fascination, reaching between your thighs. You tried to close your legs, but he firmly held them open, pressing a dry finger against your entrance, probing it gently. 

"Look at that," he breathed, leaning forward to get a better view. "It's barely opened up yet," Tommy groaned as he probed deeper, widening your opening until he found your hymen—a thin membrane that separated you from being fully broken. His fingers brushed against it, sending stinging pain shooting through your core as he toyed with your opening.

"Now, be a good girl and hold still for me," he cooed, pressing the tips of one of his fingers against your entrance. "I need to stretch you out a bit, ready for later," he went on to say as his finger pressed harder, forcing its way into your most intimate space. It felt too big, too foreign. The pain was excruciating, but you did your best not to make a sound. 

"There we go," he muttered, thrusting deeper until his entire pointer finger filled you up. "That's a good girl. Now, let's see if I can get a second one in there," he told you before reaching for the bottle of lubrication he kept on the nightstand and squirting the viscous liquid onto two of his fingers.

"Hold still for me," he reminded you before swiping his fingers across your outer lips and then pushing not one but two fingers right into you.

You cried out and arched your back, biting into your own fist to stop any louder sounds from escaping.

"Shh," Thomas hushed you, rubbing soothing circles into your hipbone as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

His fingers felt cold and slimy inside you, sliding easily past your resistance, tearing at your hymen with each thrust.

You closed your eyes tightly, gritting your teeth as the sensation of being stretched and torn overwhelmed you.

The sight of his fingers stretching you like this turned him on; he couldn't help but groan and squeeze harder, making sure you knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Such a good girl," he praised between grunts, watching your petals pulse around his digits, growing wetter and slicker with every stroke.

"See how hard you make me?" he moaned, opening his robe and grabbing hold of his erection, stroking it firmly. "I really want to fuck you now," he determined before he withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed.

"Now be a good girl and turn over and lay flat on your stomach, face down against pillow," he commanded gruffly, pushing your upper body onto the mattress. 

You hesitated, wanting to turn over and hide your nakedness, but fear of displeasing him kept you lying facedown.

"I am going to use some lubrication, but it is going to hurt a lot more if you don't relax Love," he warned sharply, pulling your waist upwards and spreading your legs apart.

As you lay on your stomach and your heart hammered against your chest. The thought of being penetrated by him sent chills down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to block out the inevitable.

You whimpered softly, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come, and Tommy smeared a generous amount of lube onto his cock, coating it in a thick layer of slippery fluid. You flinched in anticipation as he positioned himself between your legs.

"This might hurt a bit for the first few days, but you will get used to it after a while. The more we do it, the easier it will get," he said while aligning himself with your entry point.

"Now," he continued, his tone stern. "I want you to stay completely still when I penetrate you," he added, applying another dollop of lube to his shaft. 

You remained silent, swallowing loudly as you attempted to gather your courage. You could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears; the rhythmic, thunderous pounding was deafening.

"Do you understand?" he asked quietly and you nodded. Your muscles tensed, ready to endure whatever came next.

Thomas placed the head of his penis at your entrance, teasing you with a slow push. You exhaled loudly, gripping the sheets in your fists.

"Relax and let me in," Thomas urged you, nudging the tip of his member against your entrance. "That's it,"  he sighed, feeling your body yield under his command. His cock slid into you, stretching you wide open, and the friction of entering you caused a shudder to ripple through his body.

"Ah," he groaned, reveling in the exquisite sensation of being enveloped by your warm, tight channel. "Such a good girl," he groaned as he savored the moment, basking in the sensations that coursed through him. Then, he began to thrust, filling you up inch by agonizing inch until every last millimeter of his erection was buried deep within you.

"So tight," he groaned, bucking into you with a force that seemed to shake the entire bed. "Fuck, you're so goddamn tight."

"You are going to be such a good little whore for me, eh?" Tommy murmured into your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.

"You will take my cock many times a day, love," he growled, his words a dark promise that sent a chill down your spine. "In the morning, afternoon, and evening."

You swallowed loudly, unable to meet his gaze. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest, and you struggled to suppress the sob that threatened to escape.

"Every time I come through that door, you'll be ready for me, won't you?" he asked, his grip tightening around your hip.

"Because I'm going to fuck you whenever I want, Love." Tommy snarled, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. 

For almost an hour, he used you like this, treating you like a rag doll that belonged to him alone until, finally, he was ready to ejaculate inside your raw opening.

"I am going to cum inside you now, Love," he informed you, his cock twitching violently against your vaginal wall.

"Do you want me to fill you up with my seed?" he asked you, his voice laced with lust, his fingers tightening around your hips.

"Yes, sir," you managed to reply, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

He smiled down at you, satisfaction shining in his eyes. "Good girl," he praised, pumping his cock a few more times before letting out a guttural yell and filling you up with his essence.

As he collapsed next to you, panting heavily, you could feel his warmth radiating into your channel. 

The remnants of his semen trickled down your leg, leaving a sticky trail behind.

"That was a lovely experience, wasn't it?" Tom said, his voice still coarse from exertion. "Now rest. I am going to fuck you again when I come back from my business deal tonight" he added, his gaze lingering on your tender, swollen lips. 

He moved his hands to cup your breasts, palming them gently before pinching your nipples.

"You are going to learn to enjoy it Love," he whispered, his voice harsh and commanding. "And when you do," he paused, his breath hot against your cheek, "you are going to beg me for more," he determined before putting his robe back on and calling one of the maids to help you clean up. 

[five-rivers]

One day Danny comes home to his parents having tea with clockwork

I rather liked this. Here's the AO3, and I might continue it later.

.

Oh, of course Clockwork didn't look like Clockwork. That is, he looked like himself, or else Danny wouldn't have recognized him, but he didn't look like a ghost, or else Danny was sure the scene wouldn't be nearly as peaceful - or unbelievable - as it was.

He blinked a few times. Hard. The scene didn't change. Clockwork - or Clockwork's human twin - was sitting at the kitchen table with Danny's parents. Sipping tea.

Danny hadn't even known they had tea in the house.

As Danny stared, Clockwork met Danny's eyes and winked. Neither Maddie nor Jack, who was enthusiastically describing their latest ghost capturing invention (something to do with a modified leaf blower), noticed. So. Clockwork. Not Clockwork's twin.

What was happening? What was happening right now? Why was Clockwork here? Had Danny screwed over the timeline somehow? And if he had, why wasn't Clockwork just grabbing future versions of Danny's enemies to assassinate him again? Why was he talking to Danny's parents? In a human disguise of all things?

Thinking about it made Danny's palms itch and his heart speed up, and he wasn't the best at being subtle when he was anxious.

"Uh, hi," he said, loudly, putting on just a touch of teenage lackadaisical spin, "who are you?"

"Oh, Danny!" said Maddie. "You're home early."

Danny winced. He got detention often enough that his parents usually didn't expect Danny home for another hour. The ghost fighting didn't help, either. Of course, the ghost fighting was why he got so many detentions. That and stuffing Dash's locker full of FentonWipe. And being associated with Sam. He had to admit that was also a significant contributor to his detention time.

What had he been thinking of again?

Rather, what had he been avoiding thinking of again?

Right. Clockwork. His parents. Tea. His future doom. The potential end of the world, as initiated by him, personally.

“Uh, yeah,” said Danny.  “I guess I am.  But…” He tried to gesture at Clockwork without pointing, which was rude enough that Maddie would comment.  

“I was just describing our new Fenton Blow design to our new neighbor, Clark!  Two new things at once!  It’s like it’s double new!”  Jack jumped up and picked up Clockwork’s chair so he could turn it to face Danny.  Clockwork continued to calmly hold his tea throughout the motion.  

“Neighbor?” squeaked Danny.  

Something that had been constant at FentonWorks for as long as Danny could remember was that it didn’t have neighbors.  The properties adjacent to FentonWorks weren’t empty, exactly, but people didn’t live there.  One was a vacation rental that saw the most traffic during Halloween.  The building on the other side was a community store where people in the area sold things they’d made.  And the back lot was split between a haunted house attraction and a rare permanent Spirit Halloween store.  

FentonWorks was maybe a bit of a tourist destination.  But it wasn’t as if normal, sane people would live anywhere near FentonWorks.  

Clockwork was neither normal nor sane.  Obviously.  Still, even he had to hesitate at being next to Danny’s parents.  

What property had he bought, anyway?  It wasn’t like there were a lot of options.  

Danny would not be able to cope if he’d bought the haunted house.  

Why was he here?

“Yes,” said Maddie, “he bought the place behind us.  The costume store.  We were talking about how he could make the costumes more accurate.”

Clockwork cleared his throat.  “Assuming that I will continue to manage the franchise is somewhat premature, but your work is truly fascinating.”

Maddie smiled.  “Oh, you’re a charmer.”

Jack laughed as well.  “Almost as smooth as Vladdie used to be, huh?”  He patted Clockwork on the shoulder.  “Good times, good times!  We’re going to have a lot of fun!”

Oh god, were they flirting?  Danny was glad he didn’t have a much of a gag reflex since half-dying.  

“If you aren’t going to be running the Spirit store, what are you going to do?”

“Previously, I owned and managed an antique store.  Worthy Antiques.”  A small smile playing around his lips, he took another sip of tea.  

“From his name!” said Jack.  “Clark Worth!  Isn’t that clever?”

Danny knew he didn’t have any room to talk about pseudonyms, but that was… Wow.  That was blatant.  Of course, the whole thing was blatant.  Still.  

“Sell many clocks?” Danny asked, because he was an idiot and had some sort of death wish.  

“A few,” said Clockwork.  “People do seem to like antique clocks.”  

“Why move to Amity Park?” asked Danny, taking a few steps over to the table so he could stand between Clockwork and his parents.  Was the gesture futile?  Yep.  Was he doing it anyway?  Yep.  

“Issues with the local government.  You seem to have it handled quite nicely here.”

“That’s true!” said Jack.  “We’ve got the government in the bag down here!”

“Yes, we’ll have to show you what they did when they hit us with zoning complaints of all things,” said Maddie.  

Danny was not hearing this.  He wasn’t here.  This was some kind of impossible fugue state.  Or a hallucination.  Or a dream.  It could be Nocturne.  It wasn’t like he was above using people’s fears, conscious or otherwise, to mess with them.  

But, if he could put his parents being weird aside (a task difficult bordering on impossible), then what did Clockwork mean by local government?  Walker?  Pariah Dark?  Could Danny even take Clockwork’s words as an analogy?  He could just lie.  It wasn’t as if ghosts were bound to be honest.  

“It is time for me to go now, unfortunately.  Thank you for the company and the excellent tea.”

“No problem!” said Jack.  “We didn’t even know we had it!”

“Feel free to drop by any time, it was lovely to have you over,” said Maddie, reaching over to Clockwork’s hands.  

“That’s very gracious of you.  Allow me to extend the same invitation to you and your family,” said Clockwork.  He stood up, raising the empty teacup towards Danny in a sort of toast before putting it back down.  “It was wonderful to meet you as well, Daniel.”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  Then, grudgingly, “You, too.  I can show you out.”

“No need,” said Clockwork.  “I know the way.”  He gave them all a short, shallow bow, then left.  

Danny looked at his parents. 

“Wow!  What a great guy!” said Jack, planting his hands on his hips.  “Hope his business works out!”

“Twenty percent of new businesses fail in the first two years,” said Maddie.  

“But he’s got experience,” argued Jack.  “And, who knows, maybe we’ll be customers!  Lots of haunted antiques out there, huh?”

“Yes… I wonder… Could we modify the Fenton Finder to determine what kinds of objects are most likely to be haunted…”

Before Danny could get sucked into whatever antique-related discussion his parents were about to have, he slipped away up the stairs.  He needed backup for this.  Lots of backup.  

.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam over the phone.  “Who?”

“Clockwork,” said Danny.  “You know, the one who sent us into the messed up future where I was evil and you were dead.”

“His name was Clockwork?”

“Yeah?  Did you–  Did you not know that?”

“I’ve got him down in my book as Clockstopper,” added Jazz, helpfully.  

“Isn’t that, like, a movie?” asked Tucker, fiddling with his PDA.  “With a kid who can stop time?”

“It’s the watch that can stop time,” said Danny, distractedly.  “Did I not tell you his name?  I’m sure I told you his name.”

“Didn’t we lose half a day of time in there where we all died again?” asked Tucker.  “I remember something about that.”

How did Danny tell them about that and not Clockwork’s name?  Seriously.  He had to get his priorities right.  And figure out how not to break down and spill potentially traumatizing information whenever Sam and Tucker prodded him even a little.  

(Was it a response to keeping a million secrets from everyone else?  Probably.  But lying had been invented for a reason.  A million reasons.  And one of them was not traumatizing your friends.)

He rubbed his face.  “Okay, so, the guy’s name is Clockwork.  Clockwork.  Not Clockstopper.  He’s the Master of Time.  He actually helped me once, when Vlad gave you two ecto-acne.  Well.”  His expression pinched inward.  “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of?���” asked Sam, leaning forward.  

“He, uh.  Kind of unpersoned me.  Or let me unperson myself.  I’m… Yeah.  Okay.  More the second one.  But he sent me off to do it.  I’m actually not clear on how he undid it…  What?”

“You know,” said Tucker, who was now looking up from his PDA, “I didn’t really question it when you brought back the cure at the time, but I really should have, huh…”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to run through how you got unpersoned,” said Sam.  

“What do you even mean by unpersoned?” said Jazz, concerned.  “Like in 1984?”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “I never read that.  Does it involve time travel?”

“Danny…”

“He’s dodging the question,” said Tucker.  “What did you do, Danny?”

Danny squirmed.  “We’re talking about why he’s here.”

“A conversation that would be much improved by telling us about your past interactions with him,” said Jazz.  She had produced a pen and notebook from somewhere.  

“I barely interacted with him that time.  We were only in the same room for, like, ten minutes, total.  The part where I was the subject of a ‘would you murder baby Hitler’ question is much more relevant.”

“Actually, why didn’t Clockwork murder baby Hitler?” said Sam, somewhat indignant.  “Actual baby Hitler.  Not Danny.”

“He didn’t kill me, anyway, and future me wrecked the entire planet, as far as I could–”

“Wait, wait,” said Jazz.  “I’m still writing this down.”

“You don’t need to write this down.”

“Don’t worry, I’m doing it in code.  Basically unbreakable.  Just a minute…”  She licked her lips, then, slowly, sounding out the words, she said, “Time… master…”

“Clockwork.  His name is Clockwork.  Why are you like this?”

“I think it’s just how siblings are,” said Sam.  

“You’re an only child,” Tucker pointed out.  “What would you know?”

“I’ve watched my cousins.  It’s basically the same.”

“That’s completely different,” said Tucker.  

“Okay, okay,” said Danny.  “I thought that maybe if Vlad had never become a half ghost, then he’d never have gotten ecto-acne, and he wouldn’t have wanted to give you guys ecto-acne.  Or have even been able to.  So I asked Clockwork to send me back to his accident and pushed him out of the way.”

“And then the butterfly effect meant that you were never born?” asked Sam.  “Actually, no one born after that would have been the same as the people who were born after it in this world…  Would they?”

Danny shrugged.  “I didn’t really look into that, to be honest.  I was kind of distracted by, uh.  Dad having gotten hit instead.  I didn’t really realize…  Mom and Dad were like right behind him.”

Jazz looked up at him in horror.  

“It didn’t actually happen,” said Danny.  “Or, uh, it hasn’t’ve happened now?”  What tense what he even supposed to use here?

“No, no, it isn’t that,” said Jazz.  “It’s just that they had no lab safety even in college.  It’s a miracle they’re still alive.  But does that mean Dad was a half ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did Mom take that?”

“Not sure, actually.  They were kind of.  Not married.”  He waited for Jazz to flip out.  She’d freaked badly enough when it just looked like they might get a divorce.

Instead, she just nodded.  “That makes sense,” she said.  

“It does?” 

“Yeah, Dad’s socially awkward enough to begin with.  If he was isolated the same way Vlad was when he was sick, there’s no way he’d be able to keep up a relationship.  I don’t think they were even dating at that point.”

“Right, well, anyway, after I figured that out, I knew I had to undo it.  A bunch of stuff happened, but I eventually got back to Clockwork and he reset it.  So that’s it.  Whole story.  Can we get back on topic?”

“Pretty sure you're lying, but whatever,” said Sam.  “But what do you expect us to do in this situation?  It kind of feels like he could just wave his hands and… poof.”

“Yeah, he was definitely not trying in that fight,” added Tucker.  

Way to be supportive, guys.  Jeez.  “I'm not going to fight him.”

“Good, if you were, I'd be asking Jazz to check you for a concussion.”

“I just want to know what he wants.  Like, if he's here because I've screwed up the timeline again or what.  But the guy talks in riddles - not literal riddles.”  Danny just knew Jazz would start calling him Riddle Master or something if Danny didn't clear that up fast.  “But he doesn't give straight answers.”

“At least we know he's not homophobic.”

“Tucker, that joke was only funny the first ten times.”

“It's always funny.”

Sam cleared her throat.  “And is that something we can do something about?”

“Yeah.  Sort of, anyway.  It's just… I know what my life is like.  I know what I’m like.  If I go talk to him alone, I’ll miss something or say something stupid.  But you guys actually pay attention to stuff.  You think about things.  I need you to come with me so I don’t say something sarcastic and wind up on a cross-time road trip to learn about the importance of customer service.”

“If we could stop you from saying dumb things, you’d have a lot less detentions,” said Sam.  

“So you’re going to abandon me?  Your best friend?  To a ghost who’s beaten him up before?”

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Don’t be so dramatic.  I didn’t say I wouldn’t go with you.  I’m just pointing out that you’ll have to put in a little effort if you want us to be your time ghost lawyers or interpreters or whatever.”

“I will!  That’s why I want you to come with me.”

“Well, I’ll come with you, at least,” said Jazz.  “I want to know more about this Clockstopper.”

Danny squinted at him.  “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’ll come with you, too,” said Tucker.  “But if we wind up on a customer service road trip, I will be blaming you.”

“Well, yeah,” said Danny.  “That’s a given.”

“I can’t go tonight,” said Sam.  “Family dinner.  Tomorrow?  Right after Danny gets out of detention?”

“You don’t know I’ll have detention tomorrow.  I haven’t gotten one yet.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” said Sam.  

[monster-mash-m]

I’m just a toy to you my love

Sentient!Ai! X Human!reader

Part 1

Cw: yandere vibes, uncanny, that’s all I think for now

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A bargain. That’s what it was, you say to yourself. An abandoned facility that was only being sold for £100. You didn’t really care what it was used for, the building was intact, it had heating, electricity, running water. Bargain.

You hum to yourself as you carry your rather large bag with all your essentials through the doors. “Hm a bit dingy in here.” You say aloud to yourself as you look around but you don’t seem disappointed.

“No mold, pests or weird plants… wow, honestly they lost out in lots of money selling this place.” You say to yourself amused. As you continue your walking you notice a few wires. Some looked like they were moving. No that’s probably just your imagination.

You make your way to a room that is quite barren, it has a window, light and a computer. You lay down your air mattress and let it start to expand. ‘This will be my new bedroom’ you think as you walk over to the computer “hm, was this a computer lab…?” You press the start up button on the dusty monitor. Surprisingly it did turn on. Playing a little jingle as the screen lights up. You smile in amusement and sit down at the chair infront of the computer.

“Hello I’m your virtual friend and assistant, Computed Emulator-10 Prototype. But my fRiends call me Ceip!” The robotic voice exclaimed, the artificial voice box trying its best not to sound monotone or uncanny.

“Ceip… odd but okay.” You say to yourself “so how does this work…?” You mumble to yourself as you look around for a mouse. “Excellent question, friend! I work based on my friend’s requests. My software is designed to be helpful, fulfilling and efficient!” You jump back in your seat. A bit startled “oh… you… you can hear me?” You raise a brow. “Most definitely! That’s how I help. No need to type in things or use a silly mouse. I’m your friend, Ceip!”

Okay… a bit creepy. But that’s fine, it’s harmless. You have no self preservation… it’s fine. Who’s gonna question why he’s here, how he can hear you, not you of course! It’s… fine.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Over the months you start to make this place your home, Ceip being rather helpful and helping you move boxes with his mechanical arms that somehow just appear wherever you need. He orders things you need, all and all adjusting to your new home has been a delight.

“Ceip?” You hum as you cut some carrots for a soup you were making

“Yes friend?” His auto tuned sounding voice echoed through the various speakers. “You’ve been here…. Before I was here, why did the previous owners leave? And why was the house so cheap?”

In response to this a mechanical screech was sounded before immediately stopping “No… they weren’t Ceips friends…. They left because they weren’t friends.” You just nod… that was ominous. You decided not to push further.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Now that you’re all settled in, you bring a friend over. Show them the place, maybe even watch a nice movie.

And you do, you and your friend are sat on the sofa together. It’s nice, you both cuddle up because you’re friends, you can cuddle up. But not according to Ceip. No he didn’t like that. “Friend, I believe there’s an intruder.” Ceips voice rings out almost.. bitterly. “No Ceip, he’s my friend, we’re watching a movie.” You say lightheartedly. Your friend looks stunned, I mean you did tell him beforehand about your weird computer system, he just didn’t really… think about it until experiencing it.

Camera eyes hone in on your friend. Almost glaring at him. Ceip made him feel uncomfortable, so as soon as the movie finished, your friend made an excuse to leave. You huff and look at the monitor “Ceip what was that about?”

“You’re my friend. I must protect you.” He responds simply. He couldn’t feel emotions, that he knew. Yet something stirred within his wires. Possession… the want to keep you away from others.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

I think this might be a seriessszz I really like this idea! So I’m trying to do a lil world building before I get to the juicy stuff! Most likely gonna be wild- but hawt

This idea was given to me by @im-just-a-boy-guys !

But yes…. This is it for nowwwwww.

[comicaurora]

I need to say this now that you're looking into boats and I think about this all the time.

THE SAILS OF A SHIP GET STRETCHED AND WARPED OVER TIME AND NEED TO BE REPLACED FOR SAFETY.

In the real world right now that you are living in there's an economy based on old sails being re sold and used for other seashore things when they are deemed not usable for ships anymore. My dad's sailing bags are all made out of old sails and he talks about the annoyance of old sails piling up in the in the ship house. The reasons being it's harder to re sell them if they have designs on them that can be easily removed or dyed over. I think about this in pirate shows when they have the fucking Jolly Rogers plasted over their sails and I'm screaming "THATS GONNA LEAVE A TRAIL RIGHT TO YOU GUYS EVERYTIME YOU HAVE TO REPLACED THE THING!!!" It's like the best way to be tracked! It stressed me out so much!!!!

Also if you look into the history of making sails it's filled with women and the forgotten importance to the textile market throughout history because it takes way longer and more people to make a sail compared to making a ship. It is the thing I think about the most when it comes to boats but is the thing least talked about unless someone rips up the sail and even then they don't talk about how they're gonna get a new sail the just idk sew it up which begs the question who's the seamstress in this group????

Sorry about this but I can't stress enough how much this is on my mind when it comes to boats because it's how the boat moves!!!!!!

fascinating. my starting level of boat knowledge began and ended at which end the prow was

[unteriors]

Why is France in particular so much worse off than many of the other Western countries on this blog? It looks like some of these places haven't been updated in 100+ years to be safe or liveable, and somehow have evidence people still occupy them. I know poverty is the main answer, but it surprised me. I know their buildings are old but some of these people are still using oil lamps.

I'm not completely sure, there are definitely a lot of centuries-old buildings for sale on French listings that look as though they haven't been updated in about as long. Part of it may be cultural and specific to France - it has a huge number of small settlements, most of which date back hundreds of years, with their original housing stock intact. But it probably has something to do with the confluence of a few different factors that affect the kind of listings you find for each country. One factor is how regulated and (relatively) free of corruption the real estate sector is in each country. In the US, for instance, it's regulated enough to make it possible for aggregate websites like Realtor and Zillow (and Redfin, etc.) to exist. I'm not totally clear on the specifics, but I think it has to do with having centralised agencies that track and provide data for sales prices, dates of sale and other property details that ensure a certain level of quality control. This means that listings tend to be more standardised and easier to navigate (for people like me interested in the imagery for reasons outside of the boring, instrumental original function from which they emerged). One thing I've noticed looking through sites from developing countries is that there tend to be a lot of obviously-fake listings, which re-use the same images and which make it a lot harder to find genuine ones. I'd guess having a substantial proportion of real estate transactions taking place in the grey market probably contributes to this (putting less pressure on these sites to be transparent and functional). If it seems like most of the imagery of this blog comes from western (or western-ish) countries that's one of the reasons why.

Cultural and regionally-specific factors are also important. France has a well-regulated housing sector, but so does Australia, which has a totally different feel in terms of the real estate imagery it generates - generally much more polished and artificial. If I had to guess, this probably has to do with how well-oiled the propaganda arm of the real estate industry in my country is; the idea of buying and renovating and speculating on housing as an investment is deeply embedded in the culture here, you see it all over the place on TV, in books, the kinds of things people talk about. Doubtless it has a lot to do with how structurally deep the housing crisis runs and how intractable it seems. I'd guess that it's also directly related to the kind of aesthetic you find: bright, evenly-lit photography using expensive cameras that make shitty overpriced houses look like offices, standardised camera angles (there must be some kind of style guide that like half the realtors here follow), etc. I've spoken to people who criticise real estate listings - which they have no personal stake in - that don't follow these conventions, as though following and reproducing these corporate aesthetic values is somehow virtuous. I'm not familiar with the cultural context in France, maybe it isn't as bad as ours. Some countries just seem to produce more real estate imagery independently of these factors though. I haven't found much in Germany, for instance, which you would think would have a similar housing stock to France. I've found a ton from Georgia and Hungary. Japan, which has a well-regulated housing sector (and presumably an enormous amount of housing being bought and sold), is much harder to find imagery from, partly due to the language barrier, but also to the way in which its main aggregate websites are designed. And maybe cultural reasons come into it as well. Italy has a lot of imagery, though a lot of it is covered in watermarks and other branding, so you have to hunt around. Spain is similar. When I do find imagery from continental Europe it seems like, outside of Germany, most countries have a lot of rough, older housing stock that people still seem to somehow live in, like you described. I haven't found much like this from the UK; I have from Ireland though.

I'm open to the idea that there's much of this sort of imagery from lots of different countries and I just haven't been proactive enough to find it; if anyone has any suggestions on where to look for any country please send them to me. I'm not just interested primarily in decrepit older housing stock, I think it's more of a project of looking for imagery that has aesthetic or artistic or cultural or whatever value and liberating it from the constraints of its work-institutional-instrumental context, and recontextualising it in a setting where those qualities can be drawn out and appreciated. There's a history of artists doing similar things (probably playing on the relationship between art and work), from Gustave Courbet to Andy Warhol to Tracey Emin. If anyone's interested send me an anon and I'll write more about the rationale here.

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

[truly-sincerely]

Even More Comprehensive BG3 Timeline

(Now with citations!) Years in (paren) are confirmed, all other lines are approximations. For my own sanity this timeline is based on available in-game information and not the Forgotten Realms at large.

1450s

Enver Flymm born

Gale Dekarios born (1457)

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

Karlach Cliffgate born

1460s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gale Dekarios summons Tara the Tressym (1467)

Wyll Ravengard born (1468)

1470s

Lae’zel of K’liir born (1470)

Gortash in his Heapside Reavers period

Gortash rebrands as a black market arms dealer

Orin the Red born to Helena and Sarevok Anchev

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate (1477)

The Emperor dominates Duke Belynne Stelmane (1479)

1480s

Elminster resurrects Mystra (1480)

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machines & iron (1482)

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing (1482)

Duke Abdel Adrian murdered during Returning Day speech (1482) - Bhaal resurrected - Ulder Ravengard replaces Adrian as Marshall and as Duke

Orin kills her mother Helena in self-defense

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Ulder Ravengard named Grand Duke

Wyll Ravengard pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate (1485)

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash)* - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about Crown of Karsus (via correspondence)

Hall/House of Wonders test mission* - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

1490s

The Chosen visit Ketheric at Moonrise, learn about Illithid colony

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for an unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony (1491) - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin declares herself the Chosen of Bhaal

1492

Durge is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Minsc captured by Absolutists at a recruitment rally in the Undercity

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Gortash has Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Minthara Baenre is 'recruited' by Orin and Ketheric

The Descent, Elturel fall into Avernus happens

Duke Vanthampur revealed as a diabolist, killed by adventurers

Guild Bursar Uktar launders money for Gortash’s Campaign funds

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

The Elder Brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tasks Ketheric with sending a team to get the Astral Prism - They send a nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid - The Elder Brain lets the Emperor slip its leash - Magthew Budj arranges for Durge to be on the nautiloid as well

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

First Druid Halsin captured by goblins

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel

Nautiloid goes to Baldur’s Gate, picks up Gale & Astarion

Nautiloid goes to Avernus, picks up Karlach & Wyll

Nautiloid crashes, (20 Eleasis, 1492)

Some helpful links:

A page from Sarevok’s book: Sarevok - (Murder tribunal)

Accelerated Grand Design: Gortash - (Gortash's Office)

An Offer: Gortash - (Peartree basement)

Aquatic Labor: Gortash - (Flymm’s Cargo Basement)

Baldur’s Gate Temple of Bhaal: Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Balthazar’s Notes: Balthazar - (Necrotic laboratory)

Clasped Book: Balthazar - (Balthazar’s chambers)

Devil’s Fee Observer’s Report**: Himberloo - (Nine-Fingers’ office)

Elder Brain Domination: Ketheric/Yanthus - (Ketheric’s Room)

Enhanced Weapons - Sales Ledger: Peartree - (Peartree basement)

Experiment on Cruor: Orin - (Temple of Bhaal)

How To Build a Watcher: deceased Gondian - (Steel Watch foundry) 

Journal of Enver Gortash: Gortash - (Gortash’s Office)

Magical Histories: Volume 2: The Spellplague: unknown - (Sorcerous Sundries)

Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Missive from Gortash: Gortash - (Ketheric’s room)

Missive from Ketheric: Ketheric - (Moonrise, 2nd floor)

Mistress of Souls’ Research Log: Kressa - (Mind flayer barracks)

My Gratitude: Gortash - To Peartree (Peartree basement)

Next Steps: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Prayer for Forgiveness: Durge - (Necrotic laboratory)

Scrapbook of Letters: Gortash/Durge - (Flymm’s Cobblers)

Special Operations - Infernal Arms: Uktar - 

Studies of the Elder Brains: Gortash/Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Suspended Ceremorphosis: Gortash/Yanthus - (Tadpoling center)

Test Mission with Gortash: Durge - (Temple of Bhaal)

The Astral Prism Heist: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

The Dukes of Baldur’s Gate: unknown - (Baldur’s Mouth/Peartree’s house)

The Grand Design: Gortash/Yanthus - (Mind flayer colony)

The True Life of ‘Lord’ Gortash: a skeleton - (Wyrm’s Rock Prison)

The Ultimate State: Gortash - (Gortash’s office/Flymm’s Cobblers)

*an in-game contradiction between Gortash and Durge. See: ‘Test Mission with Gortash’ and ‘Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda’. I’ve placed it after, but there’s also a legitimate argument to be made that Gortash and Durge met and became allies much earlier, possibly around the same time as Gortash’s betrayal of Karlach

Additionally, the House of Wonders (church/workshop) and the Hall of Wonders (museum) are two different buildings in the Upper City. Durge writes that the Hall is their target, while Gortash writes that the House is their target. It is my opinion that they hit both locations.

**no link cuz the bg3.wiki doesn’t have it??

[syrupfog]

Law has been in the basement of the auction house for almost two weeks when the new merch is brought in. 

He KNOWS Doffy has kept him here longer than necessary just to drag out Law’s suffering. He’s surely going to get sold to a Celestial Dragon immediately, but the waiting…

The waiting, the uncertainty is getting to him. 

But at almost two weeks — 13 days, exactly — the new merch is dragged in. A collection of raggedy pirates, a few fish men, and one guy who, for some reason, doesn’t seem to have had his spirit broken yet.

And of course he’s the one who sits himself down right next to Law. 

At a glance Law sees the sea stone cuffs that designate a devil fruit user. He notes the ridiculous straw hat. He frowns at his grin. 

“Hey,” the guy says. “I’m Luffy, and I’m going to be king of the pirates.”

Law snorts. He’s cuffed to the wall, like this guy probably will be soon, so he can’t move away, but he closes his eyes. “You’re going to be sold to Celestial Dragons and die within the month,” he says. 

“No,” the guy— Luffy— says, sounding petulant. “I’m getting out.”

“Sure you are,” Law says, rolling his eyes. “Because unlike everyone else who’s come through these doors, you’re SPECIAL, yeah?” 

“You’re a jerk,” Luffy says, but he doesn’t sound too put out. “My crew will come for me, don’t worry.”

Law’s heard that before. “Uh huh,” he says. 

“They just gotta find me first,” Luffy muses. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. But I trust them!” He wiggles into a comfortable position and his chains rattle. “What’s your name? Do you have friends coming for you?”

“Trafalgar Law,” Law says, because he gets the feeling the conversation will continue with or without his participation. “And no.” 

“Oh,” says Luffy with a frown. “That’s okay, Traffy! You can come with us!” 

“Trafalgar,” says Law. “Not Traffy.”

Luffy laughs. “You’re funny,” he says. Then he frowns. “Do you know when we’re getting food? I’m hungry.” 

Law’s been getting one meal a day, from his estimations. There’s no windows to tell time by, just the changing of the guards. “It’ll be a bit,” he says.

“Awww,” Luffy says. His stomach growls in agreement. Pathetic. He’ll be crying within the day. 

… 

Luffy is NOT crying within the day. 

Luffy also will not shut UP. 

He quickly decides that “Traffy” is his best friend, much to Law’s dismay. He talks about EVERYTHING.

Law quickly comes to know the names of everyone on Luffy’s ship. Hell, he knows the LAYOUT of the ship. He knows Luffy’s favourite food (meat) and favourite drink (milk) and favourite seat (“the lion” whatever that is). 

Most of the others in the basement with them do get their cuffs chained to the wall, but the guards seem SCARED of Luffy for some ungodly reason, so he continues to sit practically pressed against Law. 

Law misses being alone. 

Although this is the most human he’s felt in weeks.

Also, Luffy cons several others out of their meals, in exchange for things like scratching itches they can’t reach, or just sneaking bites when people aren’t looking. 

He doesn’t touch the roll on Law’s plate until Law specifically tells him to take it, though.

Luffy is down there with Law for three days, and suddenly Law is dreading when Luffy gets dragged up to auction and Law is left alone again. He didn’t think he would care that much, but… it’s a sad, aching sort of longing that Luffy has quickly filled sitting with him and acting like Law matters. Like he’s not just a pawn in a game he can never win. 

So, for three days, Law grows comfortable with him. Familiar. Basks in Luffy’s odd light. 

He never should’ve let himself get that comfortable.

Law is lightly dozing when it starts, his head on Luffy’s. But suddenly Luffy is jumping up, and there’s— 

There’s an eye, blinking at them, having materialised on the floor between them. 

An eye and an ear. 

“Robin!” Luffy shouts. The posted guard looks over in confusion.

Lips appear, along with a hand that holds a finger to the lips, and Luffy, SHOCKINGLY, makes a motion of zipping his lips. 

Law didn’t know he knew how to DO that. 

Then the face, such that it was, disappears. Luffy looks to him with a grin. “I told you,” he says.

It’s only moments later when the door to the room slams open, falling off its hinges, and no less than SEVEN PEOPLE come rushing into the room in various states of arguing with each other. One by one they spot Luffy and start cheering, even as they’re making war with the guards.

Law feels the sinking in his stomach as Luffy runs to the front of the bars and a HUGE blue haired man — must be Franky, Law thinks — opens his hands to reveal smaller hands that tinker with Luffy’s cuffs. They drop to the floor without much of a fight and suddenly Luffy’s energy is BOUNDLESS. 

The green haired one — Zoro — cuts through two of the bars and Luffy slips out easily, suddenly engulfed in crew mates who love him even as they chastise him for getting caught. 

Law sits there, and watches freedom happen in front of him, just out of reach.

He’ll miss Luffy, he thinks, even as he tries to tamp down on that thought. That’s not the sort of fate he’s destined for. Cora tried his best, but Law’s never escaped Doffy’s grasp. 

Luffy’s crew starts back toward the door, ushering him along with warnings about a count down

And for a moment they really do disappear through the doorway, although the broken door means their voices are clear. 

And Law sits there, surrounded by others whose spirits are as broken as his, all cuffed to the wall as they can see the hole in the bars made by the swordsman.

He hopes Luffy does accomplish his dream. He hopes at least one of them does. 

And then, suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts, Luffy comes crashing back through the doorway, the blond and green haired ones in tow (and arguing about something).

Luffy points to Law and both of the others converge on him. Law shrinks back and grits his teeth, but all that happens is a sword hits one chain and a foot hits the other and suddenly he’s not attached to the wall anymore.

“Let’s GO, Traffy!” Luffy yells, grabbing Law’s wrist and hauling him upward. 

And suddenly Law is. Running. 

He’s barely eaten or moved in two weeks, but— L

uffy’s hand is around his wrist and pulling him forward. 

And Law grips Luffy’s wrist in return. Like a lifeline. 

He can hear Luffy laugh, the way he laughs through his teeth

And after a maze of hallways they’re out into the bright, bright sunshine 

And Luffy turns, looks at Law, grins at Law, 

Luffy is the sun. Luffy is freedom. 

“Come with me,” he says, hand still clutched tight to Law like it belongs there. 

And Law follows.

[granolawriting]

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you. 

“How's this for a Halloween costume?” 

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design. 

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?” 

“Straws exist.” 

“I'm not convinced” 

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle. 

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you. 

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else. 

“A cowgirl?” 

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately. 

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.” 

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.” 

You put the bag in the cart. 

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together. 

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad. 

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her. 

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end. 

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works. 

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut, 

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?” 

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there. 

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.” 

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.” 

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work. 

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—” 

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body. 

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?” 

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006. 

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?” 

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on. 

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.” 

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50. 

…

Ding Dong 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—” 

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens. 

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive. 

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?” 

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you. 

He skips a beat. 

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.” 

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter. 

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?” 

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.” 

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry. 

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure. 

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.” 

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers. 

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.” 

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same. 

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom. 

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass. 

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.” 

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it. 

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?” 

“Can you ask one question at a time?” 

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.” 

“Maybe. Well?” 

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.” 

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him. 

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.” 

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons. 

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing. 

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask. 

“Hey you!!!” 

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements. 

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process. 

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!” 

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement; 

“And—” 

She points behind you. 

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!” 

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs. 

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this. 

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather. 

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right. 

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance. 

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses. 

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller—  as you force yourself to call him in your mind. 

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?” 

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you. 

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete. 

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.  

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?” 

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—” 

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you. 

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?” 

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure. 

You nod your head meekly. 

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.” 

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start; 

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—” 

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.” 

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up. 

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.” 

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues. 

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.” 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means. 

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards. 

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him. 

“I'm—” 

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.” 

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him. 

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him. 

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased. 

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.” 

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed. 

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.” 

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?” 

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.” 

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose. 

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.” 

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you. 

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation. 

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.” 

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season. 

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!” 

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second. 

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind. 

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.” 

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues. 

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.” 

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?” 

“Spendin’ the night?” 

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you. 

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more. 

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.” 

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home. 

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him. 

“Ya’ need somethin’?” 

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would. 

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.” 

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face. 

“And what would that be darlin’?” 

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think. 

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.” 

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore. 

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?” 

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.” 

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you. 

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?” 

“What?” 

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.” 

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.” 

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says. 

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…” 

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that. 

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.” 

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra. 

“Take it off. Please.” 

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you. 

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.” 

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume. 

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him. 

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”  

“Then show me.” 

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination. 

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention. 

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?” 

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night. 

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.” 

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long. 

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head. 

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-” 

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah. 

“You like that sweetheart?” 

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you. 

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.” 

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you. 

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.” 

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him. 

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.” 

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.” 

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release. 

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you. 

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.” 

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—” 

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same. 

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?” 

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.” 

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior. 

“Fuckkk please oh my god” 

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel 

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?” 

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.” 

“Inside of me” 

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing. 

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—” 

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later. 

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you. 

“I think you forgot something.” 

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?” 

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night. 

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing; 

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?” 

“I just wanted to feel you.” 

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.” 

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.” 

“Yeah that’d be smart.” 

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared. 

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.” 

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.