#that added in / decided based on what works for the current thing

[goddessofroyalty]

Now I have watched Season Two I can confirm that how Isha fits into Zaun Family will be one of two options (switching depending on what I think fits better in the thing I'm writing/rambling about at the time):

She is the final Vanco pregnancy and is born maybe a year or so after the Season One Act One incident. Jinx nominates herself the Best Big Sister Ever and Vander and Silco who are so busy decide that, actually, that's fine, if Jinx wants to look after her most of the time she can. Silco does tell Sevika to make sure his youngest two daughters don't accidentally get themselves killed.

Jinx finds Isha and brings her home one day and the rest of the family have to basically pry out of her that she didn't kidnap someone's child but this is an orphan who is now hers. But once that's established then sure Jinx now has a kid.

[free-slutt]

𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙍 | 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕

a/n: I'm currently awake at 4 am and unable to sleep ive been having some thoughts that I needed to release, and writing this is helping me feel better. this is my first time writing something explicit, so I apologize if it's not the best. please forgive any grammar mistakes. i hope you enjoy reading it. <3

summary: you are searching for a personal trainer and come across an online ad. after calling the trainer, he arranges a session at his home gym. things start to take a spicy turn between the two of you.

warning: smut! 18+ oral (m receiving), spanking, getting manhandled, fingering, pet names like “doll, babygirl” squirting, praising, degrading, rough!!

˖⋆࿐໋

when you move to california to pursue your dream of becoming a model or influencer, you leave behind your family, job, and friends. unfortunately, the move also means leaving behind your favorite place: the gym.

many label me a gym rat, but I simply embrace my love for the discipline it brings and the amazing confidence it gives me in everything I wear.

in the evening, while browsing through tiktok , i suddenly felt a wave of boredom. i let out a sigh, turned off my phone, and began searching for an engaging activity. normally, in situations like this, i would change into my favorite workout attire and head to the gym. however, as i am not at home, i need to find a gym or a personal trainer of my own in this new location.

i opened my macbook and started searching for personal trainers in my new area. I came across a profile of a man who seems to have a lot of experience in the gym and is conveniently located nearby. i must admit, he looks delicious. i decided to message him to arrange a meeting and inquire about his session rates. he responded promptly with his pricing and availability, and it turns out he's available tomorrow morning. as we exchanged goodbyes over text, my mind couldn't help but focus on meeting him in person. if I'm already feeling this way based on some online pictures, i can only imagine how I'll feel when we meet face to face.

i wake up suddenly to the sound of my alarm. as i pick up my phone, i see that it's 5:30. the familiar feeling of nervousness churns in my stomach as i realize that I'm in a new city, about to meet someone new. i made sure to wake up extra early just to ensure that i look my best.

after my shower, i breeze through my skincare routine and add a touch of mascara and some lip balm. I'm just heading to the gym, so nothing too over-the-top, i tell myself. i apply a light moisturizing lotion and a spritz of my favorite perfume. i slip into my matching black bra and thong, then into my sleek all-black workout set with cute black leggings and a fitted black tee. i slide on my nike socks and lace up my new balance 574’s. i brush my hair and secure it with a stylish claw clip, still debating whether to leave it down or tie it up. I'll make up my mind in the uber.

i send him a text to inform him that I'm on my way to the location he had sent me. he reads the message but doesn't reply. oh well, I'm on my way already.

as we pull into his driveway, i can't help but notice how stunning his house is. i wonder what he does for work; being in california, he must be wealthy or famous. i tip my uber driver in cash, thanking him for the ride, and he wishes me luck. I'm definitely going to need it.

i grab my phone out but before i can send him a text i hear a whistle which caught my attention i looked up seeing him standing next to his front door i can’t help but check him out and oh my goodness he’s more attractive in person i can just rip his clothes off right here and there but i have to remain calm im not here for that.

he is wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, with a gold chain around his neck. his hair is lightly stuck to his forehead, indicating that he had a workout before I arrived.

“hey there” he smiles and waves signaling me to come in with his hand

i smile back and step into his house him standing behind me the whole time closing the door and walking towards me

"I'm nicholas, I'm your trainer. It's nice to meet you." oh my, his smile. his smile. his smile. I'm going to fold, i know I am, but I have to keep my calm. i don't even know him. i don't know if he's single or even married.

“hi, i’m y/n” i take his hand shaking it lightly

"come on, don't be shy," he takes us to his gym and confidently sits down on a bench, gesturing for me to sit next to him with a wave of his hand.

so demanding already.

“so tell me a little bit about yourself, i know you told me you just moved here but what’s the reason for the move and why are you looking for a trainer?” he asked curiously.

“well, i moved here to cali so it’ll be easier for me to achieve some of my goals, i have some experience in the gym but i really feel like ill learn a lot more with a trainer if that makes any sense” you smile shyly causing nicholas to chuckle a little.

“no need to be shy sweetie im here to help you you already look great im sure you’ll do a great job” i cross my legs just at the sound of his voice saying those loving praises, oh i need him so bad.

he notices but tries not to make it so obvious he grabs his water bottle taking a sip and putting down standing up tapping the side of my thigh gently “come on let’s get started”.

we begin with some easy stretches to warm up before the actual run. i couldn't help but notice that he mostly stood there, watching, instead of actively instructing and guiding me, which did bother me a bit.

“do an extended puppy pose for me” i look up at him and he just winks OH. he knows what he’s doing so i decide to play along as well.

as i get on all fours getting ready to get in the pose arching my back a little i can see nicholas from the side of my eye starting so hard i can’t help but silently giggle to myself.

“am i doing this good enough nicholas?? how’s my arch looking” he chuckles at my words a little.

“oh you’re doing so good y/n, you look amazing but i think you need a little help here” he comes down next to me getting on his knees right behind my ass and pushing my arch down so my stomach is hitting the floor beneath me.

“just like that?” I question.

“just like that, good girl” those words sent shivers down my spine i let out a soft sigh.

“what’s the matter sweetie?” he questioned.

i shake my head not responding to him “can we just do the next exercise?” i get on my knees so i can stand up but he comes in front of me putting one hand on my shoulder keeping me on my knees.

“let’s do some leg spreads i’ll help and guide you”.

i lay on the mat on my back and nicholas gets down on his knees again grabbing one of my legs bending it back a little.

“let’s start of slow sweetie i don’t want to hurt you”.

after doing a couple of reps nicholas stops and can’t help but notice something.

he chuckled “someone’s excited?”.

“what?” i ask not getting exactly what he’s talking about.

he spreads my leg a little further back.

“you’re so wet you’ve leaked through your panties it’s all on those leggings of yours”.

“i-im so sorry i-“ he cut me off.

“don’t worry about it doll, im having way more fun than you could possibly imagine” he bends down to kiss me and i went full in, tongue and everything.

after a few minutes of us making out he rips open my leggings with his bare hands which caused me to throw my head back and lightly groan, his eyes burning into my skull the whole time. never once taking those beautiful brown eyes off of me.

he pulls my panties to the side.

grabbing my mouth harshly “open and spit”.

i did as told, he sticks them in my mouth reaching the back of my throat causing to me gag.

he laughed and smiled “think you take all of my dick in there huh babygirl?”.

he pulled my panties to the side and started playing with me lightly flicking the clit and switching between fingering me and playing with my clit.

the groans escaping his mouth seemed a little animalistic like he hasn’t touched a woman in a very long time he’s eager and i can tell he wants to fuck me into the ground literally. 

“mmm you’re so fucking wet, you’ve been excited since you got here hm? or was it those photos i sent you last night that has you like this for me? horny and ready to get fucked by her trainer? it’s only day one babygirl and here you are legs spread open pussy juice dripping all over my fucking fingers, what am i going to do with you”.

i moan loudly his words. his actions. the sounds. everything just feels and sounds so fucking good i didn’t want him to stop.

“oh im gonna come” i felt the urge to release the feeling you get in your stomach when you know your going to cum and go crazy “please dont stop nicholas”.

“such a fucking good girl” he kept pumping his big thick fingers in and out of me which caused me to release all over his gym floor.

“oh shit baby, look at you fuck” he says rubbing my clit on a fast pace, i grabbed his hand trying to get him to stop since it feels way to good to handle.

“please” he grabs my face and kisses me harshly shoving his tongue all down my throat saliva dripping down in between the both of us.

“come on take this off” he removes my shirt and bra taking off what’s rest of the leggings throwing it somewhere in the gym.

he takes his shirt and sweats off leaving him completely exposed no boxers or anything on, he knew what he wanted to do.

“come on baby get on your knees let’s see if you can fit this dick all in that pretty mouth of yours, gagging on two fingers. that’s pathetic sweetheart you got to do better than that”.

i get on my knees and take his member into my hand lightly kissing and licking his desperate throbbing dick leaking pre cum everywhere, i quickly take my tongue and clean up the mess he made.

“now this is a great mouth exercise for you pretty you’ll love it” he laughs and i roll my eyes member still in my mouth looking up at him not breaking eye contact.

“oh come on” he pushes my head down taking his whole dick into my mouth repeatedly touching the back of my throat i tap and grab on his thighs signaling i needed to breath and catch my breath, he threw his head back in pleasure looking back down grabbing my hair and pulling me off of his dick.

“told you you couldn’t take it”

“mmm stop let me do it” i pout he reaches his hand and cups my cheek and caressing my hair rubbing circles on the top of my head.

i grab his dick taking him all in and taking him out grabbing it and lightly jerking him off, as i continue to jerk him off i suck off what’s left that i couldn’t fit in my mouth.

“mm fuck”

“just like that baby”

“such a good fucking girl for me”

i take him in once again feeling him twitch making sure he’s hitting the back of my throat so i can swallow all of his sweet juices.

he grabs my hair making it into a makeshift ponytail fucking my face at the perfect pace for him, he looks so good he can just take control and do what he wants at this point.

i feel him twitch again which means he’s super close this time he didn’t let me go he made sure he stayed in the back of my throat resting his cock in my mouth while he released all inside of my mouth.

“swallow that shit baby be a good fucking girl for me”

oh boy, this is just the first session i wonder what’s going to happen next time.

˖⋆࿐໋



[jiarkives]

livestream

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you ask your boyfriend to watch your followers.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — rushed ending WEEWOOWEEWOO also, this is based on @loveisallyouneed1125’s idea, i just added a ~little~ twist to it. i hope this is to your liking, bestie! 🤍

~

Occasionally, you would do a cooking and baking livestream where you would teach your followers how to cook certain dishes or bake, while you talk to them about other stuff. Your teammates would sometimes pop in and talk for a few minutes before leaving you to your thing once more.

Today, however, you had decided to let Bucky join you since your followers have been asking you for more boyfriend content with Bucky.

So you quickly set up your phone on the kitchen counter, making sure to leave enough space for you to work while also being in the camera’s view, then you went live.

You and Bucky waited for your followers to flood in, greeting some of them as they left comments and greetings. Although most of them were just smashing their keyboards and emojis, you still did your best to greet them.

After a few minutes, you got started on your baking with Bucky helping. You had mutually decided on baking chocolate chip cookies, finding it the easiest to bake together. Throughout the process, you occasionally gave out instructions to both Bucky and the viewers.

“Okay, you guys, let me just pop these into the oven real quick,” you said as you placed the last piece of dough on the baking tray. “Babe, can you please watch them while I do this?”

While you were busy with the cookies, Bucky watched the comments like a hawk, staring at them as they flooded in.

User 1: dude you’re literally so fucking cool

“Someone said a swear!” Bucky called out to you as he continued staring at the camera, his eyes narrowed.

“Tell them not to swear, it’s bad,” you chided like how a mother would to her child.

Bucky then recited the username of the commenter, pointing at the camera, “You better watch your language, kid. Your mama’s not going to like that. Mine certainly did not.”

The comments were flooded with all kinds of keyboard and emoji smashes, and words that are borderline incoherent as they reacted to you and Bucky acting like strict parents.

User 1: sorry mom and dad 😔

User 2: pls adopt me y’all are literally my parents

User 3: do u guys need a dog i can bark

User 4: ilysm pls dont die yet

“I don’t think your parents would appreciate you having Avengers as your new parents. Sorry, kid.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, we don’t need a dog. We already have Sam. And no, I’m not dying anytime soon. Thanks for your concern, I guess...”

Sam, who was currently in the livestream, spammed the comments with all sorts of insults for Bucky. He, of course, ignored them all, but not without rolling his eyes.

User 5: i’m gonna tell my friends i spent time with the avengers on the weekends 😎

“Well then, tell your friends I said hi.”

“Tell them I did too!” You said as you came into the camera’s view. “And you seem like you’re having fun without me. I am very hurt.”

User 6: NOOOO we love you mom!!!!

User 7: mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

You snorted as you saw the comment, while Bucky’s brows furrowed, “What does that even mean?”

You laughed, “I’ll teach you all those slangs later, babe.”

[gootarts]

as of 8/3, the most recently updated version of this post is here (it's a reblog of this exact post with more info added)

as a lot of you know, limbus company recently fired its CG illustrator for being a feminist, at 11 pm, via phone call, after a bunch of misogynists walked into the office earlier that day and demanded she be fired. on top of this, as per korean fans, her firing went against labor laws---in korea, you must have your dismissal in writing.

the korean fandom on twitter is, understandably, going scorched earth on project moon due to this. there's a lot currently going on to protest the decision, so i'm posting a list here of what's going on for those who want to limit their time on elon musk's $44 billion midlife crisis impulse purchase website (if you are on twitter, domuk is a good person to follow, as they translate important updates to english). a lot of the links are in korean, but generally they play nicely with machine translators. this should be current as of 8/2.

Statements condemning the decision have been issued by The Gyeonggi Youth Union and IT Union.

A press conference at the Gyeonggido Assembly will occur on 8/3, with lawmakers of the Gyeonggi province (where Project Moon is based) in attendance. This appears driven by the leader of the Gyeonggi Youth Union.

The vice chairman of the IT union--who has a good amount of experience with labor negotiations like these--has expressed strong support for the artist and is working to get media coverage due to the ongoing feminist witch hunts in the gaming industry. Project Moon isn't union to my knowledge, but he's noted that he's taken on nonunion companies such as Netmarble (largest mobile game dev in South Korea) by getting the issue in front of the National Assembly (Korea's congress).

Articles on the incident published in The Daily Labor News, Korean Daily, multiple articles on Hankyoreh (one of which made it to the print edition), and other news outlets.

Segments about the termination on the MBN 7 o' clock news and MBC's morning news

Comments by Youth Union leaders about looking into a loan made to Project Moon via Devsisters Ventures, a venture capital firm. Tax money from Gyeonggi province was invested in Devsisters in 2017, and in 2021, Devsisters gave money to Project Moon. The Gyeonggi Youth Union is asking why hard-earned tax money was indirectly given to a company who violates ESG (environmental, social and governance) principles.

Almost nonstop signage truck protests outside Project Moon's physical office during business hours until 8/22 or the company makes a statement. This occurs alongside a coordinated hashtag campaign to get the issue trending on Twitter in Korea. The signage campaign was crowd-funded in about 3 hours.

A full boycott of the Limbus Company app, on both mobile and PC (steam) platforms. Overseas fans are highly encouraged to participate, regardless if whether they're F2P or not. Not opening the app at all is arguably the biggest thing any one person can do to protest the decision, as the app logs the number of accounts that log on daily. For a new gacha such as Limbus, a high number of F2P daily active users, but a small number of paying users is often preferable to having a smaller userbase but more paying users. If the company sees the number of daily users remain stable, they will likely decide to wait out any backlash rather than apologize.

Digging up verified reviews from previous employees regarding the company's poor management practices

Due to the firing, the Leviathan artist has posted about poor working conditions when making the story. As per a bilingual speaker, they were working on a storyboard revision, and thought 'if I ran into the street right now and got hit by a car and died, I wouldn't have to keep working.' They contacted Project Moon because they didn't want their work to be like that, and proposed changes to serialization/reduction in amount of work per picture/to build up a buffer of finished images (they did not have any buffer while working on Leviathan to my knowledge). They were shut out, and had to suck it up and accept the situation.

Hamhampangpang has a 'shrine' section of the restaurant for fans to leave fan-created merch and other items. They also allow the fans to take this merch back if they can prove it's theirs. Fans are now doing just that.

To boost all of the above, a large number of Korean fanartists with thousands of followers have deleted their works and/or converted their accounts from fanart accounts to accounts supporting the protests. Many of them are bilingual, and they're where I got the majority of this information.

[note 1: there's a targeted english-language disinformation campaign by the website that started the hate mob. i have read the artist's tweets with machine translation, and they're talked about in the second hankyoreh article linked above: nowhere does she express any transphobic or similarly awful beliefs. likewise, be wary of any claims that she supported anything whose description makes you raise eyebrows--those claims are likely in reference to megalia, a korean feminist movement. for information on that, i'd recommend the NPR/BBC articles below and this google drive link of english-language scholarly papers on them. for the love of god don't get your information about a feminist movement from guys going on witch hunts for feminists.]

[note 2: i've seen a couple people argue that the firing was for the physical safety of the employees, citing the kyoani incident in japan. as per this korean fan, most fans there strongly do not believe this was the case. we have english-translated transcripts of the meeting between the mob and project moon; the threats the mob was making were to......brand project moon as a feminist company online. yes, really. male korean gamers aren't normal about feminism, and there's been an ongoing witch hunt for feminists in the industry since about 2016, something you see noted in both the labor union statements. both NPR and the BBC this phenomenon to gamergate, and i'd say it's a pretty apt comparison.]

let me know if anything needs correction or if anything should be added.

[augustjoy]

Pornstar.

Based on the following ask: If you have listened to the song Pornstar by Nessa Barrett awesome if you haven’t please do because I want my ask to make sense. I want a Reader x Aaron Hotchner fic based on that songs specifically because it’s just spicy and smutty honestly. Even the song Do it for me by Rosenfeld works too. They are just good songs, and they are spicy and when I hear them all I see is Aaron Hotchner – Honeyyyy these songs were SPICY! So, I really liked the beat at the beginning of Pornstar – I ran with that, and this takes place at a club.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1456

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SMUT, Age gap (non-specified), one night stand, sex with a stranger, alcohol consumption, sex while intoxicated (not drunk), explicit language, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

He couldn’t believe he was here right now. The last time he was in a club…for something other than a case, was never. He had never been the clubbing type, but the BAU had been on back-to-back-to-back cases for the last six or so months, so the team decided it was time to let off some steam. With some mandatory days off, the team finally had the time. Thankfully they were all passed the point of judgement with one another, having spent as much time together as they all had over the years.

Tonight had started that way too. A silent agreement amongst everyone that no matter what happened, there’d be no judgement, and it wouldn’t be spoken of ever again.

That’s why he hadn’t hesitated to order a third whiskey and boldly sent a vodka soda to the woman across the club, sitting in a booth with her friends. When she glanced in his direction after the waitress had delivered the drink, she blushed and send him a smile.

He couldn’t exactly remember what happened next, because one moment you’d been sitting with your friends and the next, the two of you were making out in the back hallway.

--

You were nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and clashing mouths as the two of you kissed fervently in the hallway, hoping to move things to a more private space.

He had one hand gripping your hip while the other held your jaw in place as he allowed his tongue to explore your mouth. You’d tasted like the vodka he sent you along with something inherently sweeter, vanilla lip-gloss maybe?

He pulled back to look at you, your lips were kiss bitten and your skin was glowing as the lights in the club flashed red. The bass of the music had been so loud you could feel it in your chests. It just added to the rush you were currently feeling.

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you, before pressing himself against you. His hands encased your jaw, holding you in place and your back arched against the door. His lips pressed to your for a second before they trailed down, burning into the skin of your neck.

You let one of your hands pull at his hair while the other pressed against his strong back. You needed to feel him, and you felt like you couldn’t get him close enough. You were desperate at this point.

--

He tugged at the strap of your dress, pulling it down enough to reveal the tops of your breasts. He kissed, bit, and sucked at the skin there, easily eliciting whines from your mouth. You moved your hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt, allowing them to roam over his broad chest. His skin was warm, and he was this solid wall of muscle in front of you…you’d never felt luckier than in this moment. To have captured his attention was your greatest accomplishment.

You hadn’t noticed the shift in his hand placement until it had slipped your panties to the side and gently caressed your heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned.

All you could do was gasp. Your hips bucking forward to press further into his touch. He’d pulled your dress down more, revealing your breasts completely, swiftly attaching his lips to your hardened nipples, alternating from one to the other. He sucked harshly, sure to leave marks…not that you cared one bit.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He growled in response to your moans.

You reached your hand down to rub at his prominent bulge, trying to signal that you were ready for more. He took the hint. Grabbing you by your hips and spinning you around, his movements were precise and fast…it was almost dizzying. He lifted you up, so you now rested at the edge of the counter, his finger slipping into your heat as he bit onto your collarbone.

Your head fell back in ecstasy. Your hands busy stroking him through his slacks and pulling at his now tousled hair.

“Oh my – Fuck it feels so good.” You cried.

Another finger slid into you as the heal of his palm pressed deliciously into your clit. Your body was moving of its own accord now, grinding into his palm desperate to find your release.

“That’s it baby, use my hand.” He demanded, thrusting his fingers with a newfound speed.

It only took another moment of this before you were screaming out, allowing your climax to take over you.

--

As you calmed your breathing, you pulled at his belt, needing nothing more that to have his cock splitting you open. With his belt undone, you tugged his slacks open and freed his throbbing member.

You couldn’t even be embarrassed at the fact that you were obviously gaping at his impressive size…the man that stood in front of you was gorgeous in every way.

“You’re beautiful.” You whined.

You could see a hint of a blush rush up his neck, but he didn’t let that overtake the dominance he’d been portraying.

“I want to ruin you.” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe.

“Then do it.” You gasped.

--

His cock slammed into you in one swift motion, taking your breath away. The scream that escaped you was animalistic. One that was reserved for pornstars…not everyday people.

Your hands gripped him tightly, nails dragging down his back, causing a hiss to escape him. His hips snapped into you with a ferocity you’d never experienced before. You were loving every fucking moment of it.

“S-so big. You’re so b-big.” You stuttered.

“You’re gripping me so t-tight. Fuck.” He exclaimed.

His hand slid up, fingers digging into the sides of your jaw as he forced your gaze to his own. You had to force your eyes to his…having a difficult time doing anything other than letting them roll to the back of your head.

You brought one hand up to his, shifting it down to your neck. Pairing it with a subtle nod permitting him to make his next move. He allowed his fingers to press ever so slightly into the side of your neck, restricting your airflow the slightest bit.

This new position had your upper back pressed back into the mirror, ass hugging the edge of the counter, while he stood in front of you pistoning his hips into yours over and over again, his hand still wrapped around your throat as the other was bruising your hip.

You were sputtering out gasps with every thrust that met your cervix. His movements refusing to let up. You were filling the bathroom with his grunts, your gasps and the sound of skin slapping skin. The whole experience was euphoric.

--

Things continued this way a bit longer before you felt that all too familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The coil tightening too much…just waiting to snap.

“Jesus, fuck. Are you gonna cum for me?” He huffed.

“Yes. God yes!” Your eyes finally rolling back.

Your orgasm came crashing over you with a strength you’d never experienced before. Your entire body was trembling against his. He let his hand slip from your throat, wrapping behind you and gripping onto your shoulder, chasing his high.

“That’s it. Fucking fill me up.” You whispered.

“Nghhhh Fuck.”

His hips began to stutter, slowing as he pumped his cum into you, filling you completely. He rested his head against your shoulder and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.

--

After cleaning yourselves up, readjusting your clothes, and assisting one another to smooth out your hair, you made your way out of the bathroom. Not without noticing the glare you were getting from the blonde, who’d clearly been waiting.

“So, um-”

“Did you-”

“Sorry, you go ahead.” You offered.

“I was just going to ask if perhaps you’d like to continue this evening elsewhere.” He suggested.

“I’d love that.” You smiled. “Let me just go let my friends know I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I should do the same. Meet back here in a few?”

“Okay!”

The both of you moved back toward your respective groups, your girlfriends cheering for you and giggling at all the marks currently littering your neck and chest. While his colleagues gave him knowing looks and smirks at his uncharacteristic behavior. You blew your friends a kiss while he waved his friends off. Coming face to face with you in the spot you’d just been.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“Yes! But first…what’s your name?” You blushed.

“Oh shit, it’s Aaron.” He laughed sheepishly. “I guess we never really got around to introductions.”

“It okay!” You giggled. “Nice to meet you Aaron, I’m – ”

Tags: @seraphenaadria @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife @just-moondust

[obislittleone]

Too Sweet

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: hey guys so i may or may not take a writing break (i know i said i was gonna write more but like) the stress of all the nazi shits that keep plaguing my comment sections on every post i make, regardless if it’s political or not is making me wanna tear my head off… so I might just go away a while.

Warnings: fluff, awkward mentions of past relationships, dbf!joel, smut, piv (unprotected), so much teasing. It’s actually pretty cute guys.

Is anyone at all surprised by the song choice? Hozier has us all in a headlock rn… also this is dedicated to my favorite joel writer @macfrog bc she’s just amazing and you should read her work.

MASTERLIST

“Babygirl,” he breathed, pulling back but not away, his face still inches from your own. You could clearly see his blown pupils and focused expression. “Get upstairs.” Though you wanted to tease him, wanted to quip back a quiet ‘or what?’, you needed him just as much, and you weren’t going to be told twice. 

“Dates are a bad idea,” you reminded him, handing over another nail from the box in your hands.

A last minute kitchen Island was added to the kitchen’s floor plan on the current house the team had been working on, so now it was up to yourself and Joel to make that happen. Well, it was up to Joel to make that happen, and it was up to you to stand by and watch him. 

“I know, s’just,” he shook his head, hammering the nail down and holding his hand up for another. “I don’t get the whole thing these days where relationships are built on hookups.”

Your lips turned up in a smile. He was an old fashioned guy, with old fashioned ideals about love and dating and relationships. It was sweet, albeit a little obnoxious. You rather liked hooking up with him, however little it may be.

“Where would we even go?” you saw how on the first hit, the nail went crooked, so you handed him another before he even reached. 

“I don’t know, hadn’t thought that far.”

You had to laugh at that. 

“You wanna take me on a date but you don’t know where we would go?” 

“Well,” he finished the last nail then stood up next to you, scratching the back of his neck. “This ain’t exactly an easy situation, we got your old man to avoid.”

Very reasonable, but sort of an obvious point by now. This entire thing started based on the fact that: you know each other because of your father, as in, they are each other’s closest friend. Pair that with one man hooking up with the other’s daughter, it becomes a disaster waiting to happen… except for he doesn’t see it that way, and neither do you. 

You sighed, looking around to make sure everyone was still outside with the boss. Joel had just wiped his forehead on his arm to rid himself of the sweat, and you could see the tension in his muscles from the work he just finished. You stepped up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to peck his lips once. 

“If you can find a place where we won't get caught, then I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

He smiled, kissing you again. He had wanted to tell you he was too sweaty for hugs right now, but as soon as you wrapped yourself around him, those thoughts suddenly left his mind. You just fit so well against him, he wonders how he never realized. 

-

He was even older than you thought. Not actually, but this man had decided on a date location, and as you were pulling in, the things packed into the backseat started to make sense. 

“Drive In movies?” You shouldn’t be surprised, the guy is practically a fossil, he even texts like he's still got a flip phone.

“Your dad’s never taken you here?” He chuckled, pulling into the line at the front. 

“No,” you laughed, leaning back in your seat as the cars ahead moved up. 

“Good, then we won’t run into him.” 

You reached and grabbed his hand over the center console. He always gave two little squeezes before readjusting his grip, rubbing his thumb on the center of your palm. It was sweet, comforting. 

He rolled down his window and paid the attendant in the booth, just a kid, probably still in high-school… but he certainly had an attitude on him, given the nasty glare he served Joel after making eye-contact with you. Joel had never let go of your hand, the kid knew he wasn’t your dad. 

“What’d you tell him, anyway?” He asked, driving off towards the lot on the opposite side of the land. The big screen was not even rolling the trailers yet. 

“Hm?” 

“Your dad,” he seemed almost shy about mentioning your dad in front of you, in this context. How did you lie to him this time? But he knew what he was doing, what he’d been doing and still plans on doing. 

“Told ‘im I was gonna go shopping with a friend, that I may or may not sleep over.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, never taking his eyes off the road. He pulled into a spot in the very back corner, where it was likely to remain empty the entire duration of the movie. 

“Oh did you, now?” 

You turned a light shade of pink at admitting to him you wanted to sleep over… not like it was a new occurrence, but you hadn’t really asked him yet. 

“I didn’t tell him for sure, I know Sarah-”

“Sarah’s with Tommy at a concert in Dallas,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt and turning off the engine. “Text your dad, let him know that friend of yours is keepin’ you till tomorrow.”

He got out of the truck, walking around the front to open your door, holding his hand out to help you down. Ever the gentleman. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” you teased, walking around the backseat door and helping him unload the piles of blankets he’d managed to stuff in. The man practically emptied the top shelf of his linen closet for this. 

“Anything for you, M’lady.” 

He ended up taking almost everything into his arms, letting you carry one pillow and a single blanket towards the back of the truck. Normally it was all dusty and gross, proof of the work it helped him do. You wouldn’t even have noticed, because you don’t often pay attention to the state of other people’s truck beds, but he had cleaned the whole thing out, making it look as if he’d just brought it home from the dealership… minus the odds and ends of dents from his toolbox and timber. 

“What’s playin’?” You nodded up to the screen as he took the pillows and blankets, tossing them across the truck bed to make a cozy little area for the two of you. 

“It’s uh…” he reached into his pocket, checking the nightly double stubs. “Jaws and E.T., it’s a Spielberg double feature.”

You don’t remember telling him that Spielberg was your favorite director, but maybe he was just already at that place where he could read your mind… or maybe it was just a coincidence and he thought that the throwback double feature at the drive in would be fun. Either way, he hit the nail right on the head. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

When everything was settled just the way he wanted, he turned to you, his hand out towards the blankets. “After you, darlin.”

You tried to step up on the tailgate, but your foot slipped for how high it was. 

“Want me to give you a toss?” He joked, but you rolled your eyes at him. You would not be acquiring his help after that joke. 

“I’ll be just fine, thank you.” 

It may have been embarrassing, but like hell you were gonna give into him, his chuckles of amusement under his breath as you slowly and steadily climbed up by yourself. It was much harder to grab onto the dip in the bed when there were so many blankets spread out. Eventually you made it up, collapsing onto your back into the mound of bedding. 

“First try,” you raised a fist in the air, looking back to him to see his amusement had not ended and he was smiling wide where he stood, arms crossed and brows raised when your eyes met. “You comin’?”

And as easily as he could walk, he used the ridge along the underside of the tailgate to climb up over on the side, sitting down next to you and giving you a light hearted side eye. “See how easy that was?” 

“Oh yeah, sure. You must be so proud, you’re a pro at climbing into your own truck.”

He laughed, laying back beside you. “Baby, I think anyone looks like a pro compared to you.”

“Maybe I’m just more athletically inclined, wanted to take the long way,” you chided, sitting up onto your elbows and looking over at him. The trailers had started running, and the light was hitting his features so nicely. He looked so nice. You could argue that he always did. At work when he was a sweaty mess, he looked real good then, too.

“I’m sure that’s it.” 

He settled against the pillows, nodding his head upwards for you to join him. He brought you near with open arms, one that settled under your shoulder and the other that settled on your waist. You’d tucked your head under his chin, feeling him rest his head on top of yours. 

You both had fucked around, sure… but this was a little slice of heaven right here. No amount of sneaking around or giving each other temporary pleasure beat the simplicity of laying next to one another, breathing in each other’s air, and being on a date. A real one. It wasn't a hasty exchange built upon needing to get off, but a choice to spend genuine time together, in which you receive nothing but the pleasure of one's company.

You couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date. Joel was right, hookup culture had become too strong in this day and age. It stands to reason that you haven’t actually slept with anyone in a while. You like being asked out, but guys your age don’t exactly want to give you that satisfaction. Joel asked you out. Sure, he fucked you silly on the stretch of his fingers only a week ago… but he still asked you out.

Jaws ended sooner than you thought it would. Back when you were a kid, and afraid of sharks, it seemed much longer of a movie. There was a lull between it and E.T., assuming the kid working in the projection tower had to change out the film roll himself. It made for a sweet and quiet conversation that sparked up as soon as the credits rolled. 

“You bring a lot of girls here?” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, even though it was meant as a teasing question. 

“Nah,” he said anyway, turning a bit more to face you. “Usually, I don’t have to hide from my girlfriend’s dads. Not since highschool, anyway.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His use of the word girlfriend, which subtly implied that’s what you were… but you weren’t one to assume, or at least, not with Joel and the risky business of your relationship. You laced your hand with his between your bodies, looking down at his fingers while you did your best to recover the conversation without acting awkward. 

“The more I think about it, I’m not so sure my dad would be angry.”

Joel wished he had the mindset to think that way. 

“You kiddin’ me? If your dad found out I’d been messin with his only daughter, I’d get his shotgun to my head.” 

A laugh escaped your lips, but you shook your head. 

“You’re not just messin with me, though…” 

At least, you hoped he wasn’t. Of all things that could be said about you and Joel, it was that you had already gotten attached. Already been to a place where you miss seeing him at work every day when you go home. Miss talking to him and learning more about his life, and having him listen about yours. There have been so many people in your life who told you that you talk too much, or that you never shut up. But Joel never has. He listens, and he’s happy to. You’d hate to lose that one day and never get it back.

“No,” he lifted your chin so you’d meet his eyes again. “I’m not just messin with ya.”

You held his stare for a moment, neither of you leaned in. It was just a nice moment, to look at one another, and to appreciate what you saw. A moment to see that hey, Joel has little flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes. A little moment for when you get sad that he isn’t around, that way you can remember how he looks at you when he is around. It’s something mixed with longing and contentment. Two opposites that somehow come together on his features and tell you more than his words could ever say. 

“Good,” you finally replied. “In any case, my dad won’t shoot ya. I think he loves you too much.”

He laughed, the low rumble vibrated through his chest, and you felt it against your joined hands.

“You don’t suppose I could woo him over too, huh?” 

“I don’t think your charm would sway him as easily.”

“Oh I got charm, now?”

“No, not really… nice ass, though,” you giggled, and he playfully shoved your arm back, causing you to fall into a fit of laughter on your back. “Just bein’ honest, mister.”

“I see how it is,” he pulled you back in with a swift move of his arm. “Only want me for my body.”

“What can I say? I’m a modern woman in a modern world.”

“S’all the same to me, whatever gets you to agree to a date with me. Still can’t believe you did…” 

He says it half jokingly. You know he doesn’t see himself as desirable. Even though he’s in the prime of his life and is quite literally one of the finest men this town has to offer, he looks at the obstacles. He works too often, has a teenage daughter, he doesn’t look the way he used to, some people find him incredibly boring… but only the worst people. 

“Joel, I'm lucky to be on a date with you.” 

“Yeah, sure… s’not like you ain’t got a hundred guys your age lining up behind me to-”

You kissed him. He was not going to be permitted to speak if he was not going to say nice things about himself, a new rule you were establishing. He didn’t seem to care much for the rest of his sentence after you pulled away, the words slipping from his mind the second your lips touched his. 

“I like you,” you told him, making your intentions very clear to him. You weren’t just messing around, either. “You treat me better than all those shitheads, anyway.”

-

You’d been passing in and out of consciousness on the drive home. You’d been up since the crack of dawn this morning, the neighbor’s dog barking incessantly. You’re sure Joel heard it too, unless of course he’d been laying on his good ear, the bad one would have canceled out all the noise. 

The streetlights go by in waves over your eyes, lids closed lightly after each time they flutter. You were curled so sweetly into the passenger seat of Joel’s truck, finding such comfort in the place. You’d have thought it was where you spent most of your time. His hand was on the edge of your knee the whole drive, rubbing small circles over the area. 

By the time you both had gotten home, you had to scan the yard for signs that your dad may be in the near vicinity. He was usually never home on a Friday night, unless there was a Rangers game or if he had company. It made sense that his car was gone when you both pulled up. 

“You text him, yet?” 

You shook your head, pulling your phone out of your back pocket and completing the task meant for three hours ago. 

“It’s only ten, he might be at the bar, still.”

You didn’t over explain anything in your message, no need to make him question your thoroughness. Just something simple and quick. 

Staying over at Amy’s, I’ll be back before lunch. Drive safe.

But then you immediately deleted the last part. Because how would you know he’s still out? 

Joel had cut the engine, getting out and walking around to meet you at your door, except you’d already opened it and stepped out yourself.

He gave you an unserious look that feigned offense. 

“Hey now,” he settled his hands on his hips, the sass evident in his voice. “We’re still on a date, miss. I’m supposed to get the door.” 

You knew he wasn’t really upset, but you found it funny pretending as if he was.

“Modern woman in a modern world, remember?” 

“Yeah,” he waved you off, shutting your door and taking your hand as you both walked up to the front door. “What all does that entail, anyhow? Bein’ a modern woman?”

You smiled, watching him take his damn time with the keys. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well, since achieving the vote, we’ve made quite a bit of ground. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re allowed to work with you guys, now.”

“Ah… how did I miss that?” 

“Weren’t looking hard enough. We also get to wear pants now, so I can see why you’re confused.” 

And once the door was open, he lazily slung an arm around you to let you inside. Ladies first and all that. He didn’t actually respond to your last comment until you were both in the entry hall, door closed. 

“Shame, I kinda like you without pants,” he hovered in close, partially teasing but otherwise just to get his body nearer to yours. The heat between you blossomed, and it could easily be sensed on both sides since leaving the truck. 

“Mister Joel Miller, don't you know the best part of a modern woman?” 

He raised his eyebrows, his head shaking once and eyes rolling over. Just say it already.

“We can ask any man we want to take our pants off.”

There was barely a second between your words and the speed of his lips meeting yours. It was different from the kisses at the drive in, now it was harsh and hungry. A stark contrast to the softness and the serenity. This was clouded by lust, by the human need to devour.

Joel was not gentle by nature. He was often brutish in his work and day to day. There were few people who genuinely saw him gentle. Sarah, Tommy, your dad, and you, his other side neighbors, and Carol, the lady who takes Sarah to school when he can’t. Maybe not in that exact order, but that was the list nonetheless.

You’d always seen him gentle, so the moment he backs you into the door, your back slamming on the painted wood, something stirs. You liked Joel how you knew him… but maybe there was other unexplored territory to delve into. 

“Joel,” you whined out on the end of a breath. His name falling from your mouth was always how he preferred to hear it, but under this context had to be his favorite.

“Baby,” he trailed his kisses to your cheek, then jaw, then neck, resting in the crook of your shoulder and seemingly finding a home there. Your hands dove through his hair, tugging ever so gently and feeling the vibrations on your skin as a repercussion. His hands never found a resting place, running up and down your sides, every few seconds reaching down for a feel of your ass. He seemed to like yours, too. 

When the arousal became too much, you tried your luck at rolling against him. The sound he made alone would have been enough for you to know how badly he wanted you, but the feel of him through his jeans was a physical show of it. He gets hard so fast for you. 

“Babygirl,” he breathed, pulling back but not away, his face still inches from your own. You could clearly see his blown pupils and focused expression. “Get upstairs.”

Though you wanted to tease him, wanted to quip back a quiet ‘or what?’, you needed him just as much, and you weren’t going to be told twice. 

He watched you from behind, taking the stairs two at a time until you reached the top. You nearly tripped over the last stair, but before you could go toppling over, his arm around your waist stopped you dead in your place. 

“So damn clumsy,” he shook his head, the edge of a smirk forming. He tapped your hip with his free hand, getting you to move forward again until you got to his door. “Can’t get in a truck, can’t climb stairs…”

Now that he’d teased you first, you felt you had a small bit of free reign to mess with him. He was still gonna have you, but why make things so boring? You stared at the handle, gripping it, but making no move to twist it and open the door. 

“Doorknob too much for you, too?”

You narrowed your eyes over your shoulder, where he was lingering closely. You could feel him pressed against your backside, the arousal evident in every breath he took, but he was still having fun with his little pokes of annoyance at you.

“I think I remember a rule about your room being off limits…” You trailed, cheekily smiling at him before he reached around you and opened the door himself. He held out his hand with a cocky raised brow, and waited for you to step in. 

“Ladies don’t always have to go first, y’know. S’all part of-”

“Bein’ a modern woman, I know.”

But still you went in first, taking a few steps backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed and caused you to sit. You tilted your head at him, still leaning in the doorway, his hand on the frame above his head and his other hand still steadily on his hip. What’s he waiting for?” 

“I ain’t gonna wait all night, cowboy…” 

He chuckled, shaking his head and slowly coming forward. For someone so eager, he was taking his sweet time. 

“You’re cute,” he gently pushed you back into the mattress, crawling one arm at a time over your form. “But something tells me that you would wait all night.”

He leaned down and met your lips with his, feeling your hands climb from the bed, to his shoulders, then to the sides of his face. He loved the feeling of your hands on him. Loved the way that with each pass of your skin against his, you began to learn the feeling of him as well. With one hand still supporting himself, his other raked down your side, then up over your middle, hugging the curves of your stomach, the stretch of your ribcage, and the gentle peaks of your breasts. He stopped there, paying mindful attention according to every sound you made, every groan of approval, or whimper of satisfaction. It was all he could hear, and became his instruction on how to touch you. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer between them, trying to spur on the friction that would give you relief. Joel knew the signs of your arousal clearly by now, but there was still ground for him to cover. 

“Gettin’ so needy already, baby.”

His murmur against your mouth was interrupted. You whined at the loss of his lips, but were quieted in a moment when his hands trails downwards. He knelt one knee between your legs, the other still on the ground. He lifted behind your knees and gave a quick shove to drive you further up his mattress. His next move was to go for your shorts, given the fact they’d been causing him to mentally strain himself all evening. 

“Gotta get these damn things off,” he said.

They went flying to the floor, and then he had to stop a minute. With your knees raised, either side of his hips, he had the most ethereal view of your soaked underwear, a dark and increasingly wet stain against the soft blue cotton. When you noticed how long he’d stopped to enjoy the scenery, you grabbed his hand on your knee. 

“Joel, please-”

“I know, babygirl.”

And he didn’t make you beg for it. Not like the silly college boys would, and have in the past. He sunk down on the ground by his bed, leaning over on his elbows, hooking them under your legs again before pulling himself inward. He kissed over the wet fabric, hooking his fingers underneath it at your sides and slowly sliding them off. 

Your hands found his hair and your mouth parted in a shaking breath. The slow contact he made was like sweet torture. Your skin arose goosebumps under his touch, agonizingly slow and increasingly annoying, given your absolute need for him. 

“Need you… Joel I can’t- fuck.”

He kept it slow, but he licked upward, meeting your clit in devastating motions. You needed more, and as if he read your mind, his first finger was brought down and inserted to your seeping entrance. Your cries of approval met her ears like a happy melody, pushing him to go faster. 

You’d already been pushing the edge, just from him touching you… but now that the contact was area specific, you weren’t sure if you could take much more. The hard feeling of him pressed against your earlier had seeded a thought that you would not be satisfied until he was inside you, heavy and full. 

“Want more,” you tried to tell him, but he would not allow his feasting to be cut short. He’d made up his mind about the first time he would actually have sex with you. It wasn’t going to be rushed.

He shook his head, the sensation from the motion even more impacting. You took one hand away from his hair, fisting his sheets as tightly as you could. 

“Gotta work you a little,” he pulled back to say, adding another finger to the mix, feeling you tightly around him. He climbed back up your body, hand never leaving its place between your legs. “Relax for me, yeah?”

You did your best, taking a breath and keeping your eyes trained on his, but they soon fell to his mouth, lips licked clean and the very corners covered with you. It somehow flipped a switch in you that you weren’t sure was good or not. Joel was the first man to go down on you. Joel was the first man to kiss you without immediately putting his tongue in your mouth. Joel was the first man to be so invested in your relationship, that he asked you out on a date… after you messed around. It stands to reason that Joel may be the first man you genuinely fall in love with. Not puppy love like in high school. Not conditional love based on what he can get out of it. Actual love. 

You dawn on this realization quickly, still in the moment and feeling his every move, every grip of his hand or every curl of his fingers. It’s all so instant, and in your present state of mind. Like, every time he moves an inch, it somehow contributes to your relative thought. 

“Joel?” you look up at him with glassed over eyes. 

He pauses his movements below on account of how sincere you sound. 

“Yeah?”

It’s not I love you… not yet. It’s I know you, it’s going to be you.

You reach down between your bodies, his fingers still sheathed in yours, and palm him generously. Without losing eye contact, you undo his jeans, doing your best with one hand to maneuver the waistband of his boxers and pull him from his confinement. You aren’t looking yet… but you know from the feel of his sheer size alone, you’re in for the pain of your life. It bothered you last time, the thought that he may break you on his girth, that you may feel differently or resent him from how he feels… except you don’t feel that way anymore. Because of your aforementioned realization, you now feel that though this may hurt, it would not change your desire for him. He’s not a boy who’s hurting you to get off. He cares about you. 

Not just messin’ around…

“You’ve made me wait long enough,” you told him, the awestruck glaze in your eyes slowly fading as your smirk crawled over your face. You grabbed the hem of his shirt, allowing him to help you get it off. Seeing more of his skin, and feeling it against you when he settled back down was elating. It felt like the doorway to something, the hallway leading to reward. 

“Baby, you’re still tight, I don’t wan-”

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

He sighed, trying to look anywhere but your eyes because dammit they were convincing. 

“I hurt you, you tell me. Promise that,” he looked at you sternly, and you can’t say you’ve ever seen him so serious like this alone with you. He almost seemed, for lack of a better word, scared. Like you were a flower petal he was afraid to touch for the fear it would fall from the blossom. 

“Promise.”

He nodded, smiling weakly, still unsure but willing to let you lead him blindly. 

He picked you up and put you down on the proper region of the bed, your head meeting the pillows behind you. You giggled at his rapid motions to strip you of your shirt and bra next, his pent up anticipation now getting the better of him. He’d kicked off the last of his remaining clothing, looking back to you, sprawled out on his bed, waiting patiently for him. 

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re doin’ it right,” he joked, crawling back over you. 

He nuzzled his nose against yours, then leaned down to collect a kiss. The kiss met your lips but then parted and moved to your neck, then shoulders, licking the sweet spot in the crook between them. He traveled down your chest, his kisses never stopping, although his hands paid special attention to each peak of raised flesh. 

Your noises fell on grateful ears, the appreciation for them showing in every eager kiss, every soft grope of your skin. When he reached your lower region, he kissed both thighs apart, lifting one at a time and making sure they were set aside his hips comfortably. Once done, he kissed his way back up. Tentative, and slow. Joel is often strong and silent, and in this instance, it showed immensely. The way he can easily move parts of you around without hassle, and do so without uttering a word. It was dangerously addicting, how he already knew your body so intimately after only a few experiences. 

Once his lips again found yours it lasted, and lasted. The feeling of him right against you was breathtaking. No barriers, no clothing, no promises of ‘another time’ between you.

“You let me know, alright?” 

You nodded, his voice had become gentler from his first worrisome words minutes ago. 

He kept his eyes on you, trying to gauge your reaction moment by moment. You wrapped an arm over his shoulder, holding the hairs at the back of his neck to ground yourself. He lined himself up to you and ever so slowly began to push in, holding himself after the first sharp intake of breath through your nose. 

“M’okay,” you said assuringly, the sensation dulling slightly when you focused solely on him and not his actions. 

He went further, and deeper, slower than sludge but making sure you could feel every inch comfortably before moving again. You twirled his hair between your fingers, the other hand digging nails into his side. His face, eyes still focused on your expression, was becoming the product of bliss. This entire exchange, the build up, the stretching pain, and the way your lungs couldn’t seem to exhale, was all worth it… just to see this look on his face. The way he was having to fight himself to stay in the moment and not get lost in the euphoria, it was the most beautiful you’d ever seen him. When he was dazed and confused just by feeling you around him. 

“You gotta breathe, baby,” he let out, trying to keep your comfort in the forefront of his mind. He took a deep inhale of his own, and when he felt you following his steady pattern he was able to relax a little more, just like you did. “Atta girl, just like that… keep doin’ that.”

He started to move, a single thrust once he could be sure that there wasn’t any stiff pain. The only sting left over was fading, the slow and measured pace he set was becoming like a lifeline. Comparable to a heartbeat. In and out, in and out, the feeling becomes more pleasurable and addictive. You need a heartbeat to live, and in this moment, you need Joel to live, his easy and gentle pace. 

“S’good,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering closed and his head dropping to your neck again. “Feels so deep.”

Joel bit down on your skin, tethering himself. The praise was something he wasn’t quite used to. He’s self deprecating to a fault, but hearing the opposite from your lips, which he adores, makes him feel stronger somehow. Keeping a tether is all he can do to keep from rutting against you. He wants so badly for you to be different, to not end up just a one night stand or a friend with benefits. He wants you to feel how much he cares about you, wants to take care of you. 

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he whispered, your neck absorbing most of the sound. “Taking me, so tight.”

Your muscles started contracting the moment he sped up his rhythm, only one thrust that was different from the rest. It hit you so fast, the coil in your stomach, building up and aching for relief. 

“Joel… shit,” You could barely even get your words out, interrupted by a whimper of white hot euphoria. “I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his desire to rut into you slowly fading as he increased his pace to meet that carnal need. “I feel you, baby. Give it to me.”

It built only a little more, but then you couldn’t take it. It was too much, too full. The tightness in your stomach burst, letting go of every tense muscle in your body. It was so intense you practically screamed for him, his name a repetitive mantra on your tongue. Joel. Your hips jolted and writhed around, the feeling increasing with every hit against your cervix. Joel. Your walls tightened even more around him, the sting only slightly returning but in a way that made you crave it. Joel. He came right after you, unable to even try pulling out, just for how tightly you held him in. Joel…

He dropped half his weight, pulling away from your neck to kiss your lips. He needed to. It didn’t feel right to stay hidden in your neck when he had such gratification for you right now. The way you made him feel was no simple thing, and he felt you needed to be thanked for that. If a kiss was all he could give you in the moment, then so be it.

Joel…

“I’m sorry,” he let out, leaving his forehead against yours. 

“For what?” 

“I came in you… I didn’t ask,” he furrowed his brows, hoping you wouldn’t begrudge him too badly. He’d say he got lucky when you pulled him back down for another kiss. 

“It’s okay… wanted you to,” you were still coming down from your high, possibly the most intense feeling you’ve ever experienced. He smiled and kissed you again, and again. He shifted the way you both laid, on his side, and brought you close to his chest. 

When your breathing went back to normal, you spoke again. 

“I was scared, y’know.”

He looked closely at you, unsure of what you meant and why. 

“I thought you might hurt me. I didn’t care if you did, but I still thought you might,” you told him, running your fingers in circles over his skin. Though you seemed in bliss, perfectly happy, he couldn’t help but be frightened that maybe you weren’t telling him.

“Did I? Hurt you?” 

“No.” you shook your head, holding a smile and making sure he saw it was genuine. “You didn’t hurt me, it was good. Really good. No other guy has ever…” 

He again was confused by the trail of your voice… no guy has ever…? Oh, shit.

“No other guy’s made you come before?” 

The embarrassed blush on your cheeks told him all he needed to know. You weren’t sure why it was so awkward to let him find that out, but you suddenly felt like you were more of a child, having not experienced things that he has for years before. 

“No one before you… and you’ve already got four on the board,” you laughed, trying to make it feel like it wasn’t as big a deal. Like it was funny. 

He narrowed his eyes, raising his head up to look at you closer. 

“Ranger’s night, last week, tonight… that’s three,” he corrected, counting out on three fingers and holding them up. 

“You technically weren’t there the other time,” you smirked, giggling once he looked at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. 

“Should’ve called me,” he kissed the tip of your nose, your smile still prominent and growing. “I love hearing you.” 

Over his shoulder you heard his phone buzzing, once, twice, then three times. He huffed, hoping it wasn’t from someone at the work site that wasn’t able to lock up the property after reviewing. 

“Hold on,” he rolled his eyes, turning just far enough to reach his jeans on the ground, pulling his phone from the pocket. He squinted against the harsh light, swiping through the message notifications that appeared when he unlocked the screen. He laughed, turning to you. “S’ your dad.”

“It’s late, I would have thought he was either drunk or asleep by now.”

“Apparently neither,” he slid his phone back on the nightstand, regaining you in his arms. “Wants to know if I’m still awake for a drink.”

You laughed, “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah. Not sure if you’ve heard but, you’re actually at a friend’s house till tomorrow.” 

“How fun for me… so that means a guy’s night for you and my dad?” You played along with him, the sweet tone in your voice turning teasing.

“It would… too bad I’m already asleep.” He reasoned, which is probably what he would repeat to your dad tomorrow if asked. 

“Damn, you old men go to bed early.”

“Hey now… let’s not go crazy.”

-

tags: @justanothersadperson93@moonchild-warrior@hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof@untamedheart81@just-someone-broken@joelalorian@xybil @yvonneeeee @anoverwhelmingdin@theatrelove3000

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Gold Dust

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Public use of an app based sex toy, smut. Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: Aemond's office Christmas party is the last thing either of them want to attend, however, he comes up with an idea to make it fun for both of them.

Author's note: Can be read as an addition of this series, but also works as a standalone. Day seven of the Smuffmas prompts - "sharing a drink and toys". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Aemond edit in first picture is by @kyloremus.

It’s been six blissful months since her and Aemond moved in together. Having decided his own lofty high rise flat no longer felt like home - in truth, it never had - he’d offered a swap with Mysaria, and she’d leapt at the offer.

Aemond’s flat was paid for outright, so there’d be no expenses incurred on her part, beyond standard bills and utilities. She suited the space, adding a touch of glamour to the modern matte black and chrome surroundings. Her jaw had dropped when he’d handed her the deeds, his grandfather’s law firm already having handled the necessary paperwork and transfer of ownership. Aemond didn’t want rent, he simply wanted to live with the woman he loved. The simple act of Mysaria giving them a space to be by themselves was payment enough in his mind.

The security of the smaller, more homely feeling flat which she now shared with him had been trickier to negotiate. The landlord had snubbed Aemond’s initial offer to buy it from him, insisting he’d make more in rental payments from it than he would if he sold it. Some moderate pressure applied by the legal team of Otto Hightower, and an offer well above its current market value had soon seen to that, so now they were homeowners of a place that was theirs.

Mysaria’s old room had been turned into a home office, a space where either her or Aemond could work from home if and when they wanted to, aside from that they had made no further changes. The cosy little space was where they had shared their fondest memories, and every aspect of their relationship was woven into it.

She shrugs off her coat, hanging it up by the front door, and sighs in relief as the warmth of the central heating prickles her skin. She stoops to ruffle Vhagar behind the ears, a reward for the elderly doberman having reluctantly left her bed to greet her, before walking through to the living room. The blankets on the sofa are exactly as she’d left them the previous evening, and she eagerly retreats back into her nest, snatching up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“Good day?” Aemond asks, propping himself against the door frame as he emerges from the home office, the faintest smirk of amusement playing upon his lips as he looks at her.

She regards him with a warm smile, her features softening instantly despite how tired and irritated she feels. “Horrid, thanks for asking. Do we have any wine left?”

“There’ll be wine at the party, I expect,” he says, moving to sit next to her and brushing a chaste kiss against her temple.

“What?”

He narrows his eye at her, drawing back to look at her carefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

She groans as realisation dawns upon her. “Shit, your office Christmas party. Do we really have to go?”

He sighs, nodding and interlocks his fingers with hers. “Ordinarily, I’d give it a miss, you know I loathe parties, but my grandfather has called in more than a few favours for me this year. I owe him this.”

An hour later, and she steps out of the bedroom, hair and make-up finished and a slinky silk dress hugging her curves.

“Beautful,” Aemond breathes quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

She smiles bashfully, feeling her skin heat up beneath the weight of his compliment as he pulls away, and watches with curiosity as he moves past her to rummage around on the top shelf of their wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

“Your outfit’s missing something,” he tells her, pulling down the Lovehoney box, a glint in his eye as he turns to her.

“Aemond, no!”

The app controlled egg vibrator had been a drunken purchase on her behalf, that she’d regretted the moment it had arrived. Upon discovering it, Aemond’s reaction had been much more enthusiastic, kneeling between her spread legs and watching in fascination as she’d whimpered and writhed as he’d played with the settings using the app on his phone.

It had been fun at the time, but she’d considered it impractical and tucked it away, hoping he’d forgotten about it. It’s clear now that he hasn’t.

“Oh come now, darling, it’ll make the evening much more fun for both of us. Consider it an early Christmas gift to me.”

It doesn’t take much persuading, and soon she is sitting in the back of a black cab next to him, her coat pulled tight around her against the chilly December air, made colder still by a distinct lack of knickers, which Aemond had insisted she leave behind.

She is acutely aware of the feeling of the egg enveloped snugly inside of her, its presence, though discreet, making her feel as though she brandishes a scarlet letter that their taxi driver must be aware of.

“No!” She mouths desperately at Aemond as he pulls his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the app.

He flashes her the briefest of grins, tapping once on the screen. A mild singular buzz reverberates through her, causing her to clasp a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal. Aemond eyes her carefully, poking at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before pocketing his phone once more.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

They step into the office, already bustling with people, chatter and light classical music fill the opulent space which is decked out in rich, mahogany furnishings and forest green upholstery, ever the indication that the Hightowers come from old money.

“There they are!” Aegon greets them loudly with a grin, arms spread and half drunk flutes of champagne clutched by the stem between each of his fingers. His shoulder length blonde hair is tousled, and his white shirt is open by three buttons.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, taking in his bedraggled appearance.

“‘Bout twenty minutes,” he slurs around a mouthful of vol-au-vent.

Otto steps up behind him, placing a ring clad hand upon his shoulder. “I tell you where you might like it, Aegon, on the terrace; outside.”

She watches with amusement as the older man leads him away.

“I’d better give him a hand,” Aemond mutters quietly, the warmth of his palm leaving her lower back as he moves to follow. He nods towards his older sister. “Good to see you, Hel.”

She smiles warmly at Hel leaning in as the two peck each other’s cheeks. “How are you doing?” She asks fondly.

“Starving!” Helaena complains, pulling her sheer turquoise wrap tighter around herself and waving away a tray of canapés that’s being offered around by a member of serving staff. “Not a single vegan option here, everything’s either got salmon in it or is slathered in cream cheese.”

“You could always sneak off to grab something?” She offers sympathetically.

“Aeg said there’s a kebab shop over the road. I might see if he’ll grab me a falafel wrap later. Anyway,” she continues, snatching up two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to her. “How are you?!”

“Yeah, really good!” She grins. “Aemond mentioned we might fly to New York for New Year’s, go and see Daeron. I’ve not met him yet and I– oh!”

She bows her head, biting back the quiet moan that tries to escape her, as the egg inside her vibrates incessantly. Her head snaps up, making eye contact with Aemond, who stands in a corner with his phone out, a sly smile upon his face.

Bastard.

“You alright?” Helaena asks, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Mhm…just...champagne bubbles…they go right up my nose!” She feigns a laugh, embarrassment making her skin feel hot.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, she does her rounds of the office, speaking to colleagues and family members alike, though every interaction is thwarted by sudden and persistent vibrations between her legs.

After an hour of polite chit chat with Alicent, Criston, Otto and several other party guests, she leans back against the wall next to Aemond’s office door, needing a breather from socialising, but also feeling lightheaded from the intermittent throbbing in her core.

The door swings slowly open and Aemond steps out, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand.

“Having fun?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm,” she narrows her eyes, “you clearly are. What’s that you’ve got?”

“Laphroaig,” he tells her, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Thirty six year old The Wall Peat, to be precise. Grandfather would never offer this around to the guests. Lucky for me I know he keeps it stashed in his bottom desk drawer.”

“Lucky indeed,” she purrs up at him.

He grabs her hand, pulling her into his office and closes the door behind them, before backing her up against the desk, until she perches on the edge.

“Let me see,” he whispers, pushing her dress up above her hips.

His free hand applies gentle pressure to her knee, spreading her legs, and she watches the bob of his throat as he swallows thickly, taking in the sight of the arousal that coats her centre.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The idea of you walking around making innocent small talk while you’re soaked is driving me mad.”

She giggles, clenching around the egg that’s nestled within her as she sees his gaze darken. Aemond pulls out his phone again, changing the setting to a constant vibrate, before setting it down on the desk behind her.

Mewling helplessly, shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her as Aemond’s thumb swipes against her sodden folds, spreading her open to watch intently.

He takes a sip from his glass, and she gasps as he grabs her forcefully by the hair at the back of her head, crushing her lips against his and letting the whisky pass from his mouth to hers. She moans quietly, the intensity of the burn of the liquid that slips down her throat and the throbbing ache between her legs making her feel dizzy.

She is devastatingly close, can feel the pressure building to boiling point, and she whines, pressing her face into the crook of Aemond’s neck, fingertips rumpling the fabric of his black button down shirt as she grasps his biceps for purchase. “Fuck, Aemond, I–”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, let go,” he coos.

She bites down on the juncture of his neck to muffle her pleasured cry, earning her a startled grunt from Aemond. Her body spasms around the toy, climaxing with a force that makes her toes curl inside of her high heels, before going limp against his chest.

He settles his glass down and strokes her hair before pulling back. His long, dexterous fingers wrap around the cord of egg, and despite how gentle he is as he tugs it free, she still hisses with overstimulation as it leaves her body. The sudden feeling of emptiness is alien to her after having spent most of the evening with it inside of her.

“Can…can we go home now?” She asks tiredly, as he wraps the toy in tissue and deposits it on the desk.

“Hmmm, not just yet,” Aemond tells her, taking her hand and guiding it to palm over the erection that strains against the confines of his suit trousers. “I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

Chapter five || Series masterlist

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Kaiju AU Concepts

So while I'm currently slowly working my way through working on my AUs, I had a burst of energy and motivation to draw some Kaiju concepts for characters we've already seen in what I've written--namely Grim and Crowley! (I did have a concept for Crewel's Kaiju form I did last year, but I'm probably going to edit it and just do a before and after comparison or something)

Kaiju AU Grim/Grimfang:

Notes:

This design is based on the updated description in the rewrite of the first chapter I'm almost finished with, keeping enough of his original design while making it fit into the AU.

The crystal on his chest is embedded into the flesh, and yes, it is purple like the crystal on his ribbon in game! It was a spur of the moment thought while sketching, but seemed very fitting and would lend more into the crystals being important to the kaiju themselves and how it helps with regulating magic similar to their in-game counterparts.

In the story, Yuu is supposed to be able to give Grim a proper bath since his fur wasn't as clean as it could have been when they first met. That's how Yuu will discover the crystal.

Keep in mind this is a relatively rough concept sketch to help me with designing the final version. In the meantime, this'll at least help with visualization when reading!

"Average Human" is essentially how tall an average sized human would be compared to kaiju Grim, since not every Yuu is the same height or size!

Kaiju AU Crowley/Nevermore Concept:

Notes:

So...I'll be honest, I've rarely if ever drawn anything relatively bird-like, so Crowley's design in this AU always made me worry he'd be too cartoony or something if I'd attempted before. It is a complete and utter accident that he wound up looking like a griffin without the lion half, but I'm not complaining! 😂

His "face mask" wound up being a last minute pattern I added, which wound up helping flesh him out more and not making him look like any old griffin bird creature. Still a major concept development for his overall design, but I'm feeling more confident on how he looks!

Based on the height differences for each kaiju here, I'd put Crowley at 70 ft tall. Which is pretty crazy in general, but then again, so is Godzilla and the other monsters, so eh. XD Anyway, tiny average human is spooked!

Yes, Crowley has those tiny arms that I mentioned in the rewrite snippet I had posted a bit ago, I just gotta figure out how they're shaped and such. They typically hide under all that chest floof!

That's all I've got for now regarding their designs. I'm still tapping away at the rewrite and working out how each character is designed. I've also got to post the updated species list since I decided to change things around, so keep an eye out for that! 😌

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[impala-dreamer]

Who We're Pretending To Be

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

A/N: If you've not seen the Netflix show YOU, this may not be your thing. Still a great story, but it helps to know the show. Also, if you've not seen the show, I suggest you get right on that because it is AMAZING.

Set between Seasons 3 & 4. Slight spoilers for s4, but not really. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The classroom seems cold today, like there’s something missing. It’s distracting. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off, but there’s a charge in the air like something’s about to happen; as if lightning could strike at any second.

I don’t mean proverbial lightning, as none of my students seem to have grasped any of the contextual undertones of the book we’re discussing, but actual, live lightning. If I opened the windows behind my desk just a crack, a bolt would sneak through and bury itself in the base of my skull. Maybe that’s what I need- a jolt of electricity, something to break me out of this fog that crept up around me and climbs forever higher threatening to suffocate me.

I think I’d take the lightning to the skull over suffocation, but we don’t always get what we want.

I’m perched on the edge of the desk when the door opens and Y/N comes rushing in.

Suddenly, all of my attention is on her.

She’s never late. Never rushing, always at least ten minutes early for every appointment, every class. She seems- off today, as well. Perhaps she can feel the imminent lightning strike as well. Wouldn’t that be funny? I find a kindred amongst these idiot grad students who can’t even seem to end this horrid debate.

“I am so sorry, Professor Moore.”

Y/N’s voice cracks a bit, which in itself isn’t very unusual. She’s one of the quieter students I’ve encountered, and the only American in my current circle of acquaintances. Her accent is faint, as if she’s attempting to hide it from her schoolmates. She’s been here a while, I can infer; sprinkling in local slang and adding letters to words where back home there would be none. She’s trying hard to fit in, but why? Why not be herself?

“I got held up by-”

I hold up my hand and smile softly. “It’s fine, Y/N. Please take a seat and try to catch up.”

For fuck’s sake, she’s only twenty minutes late, but it looks like every second has weighed her down like lead.

The others pick up their debate and I sit back a bit, cross my arms, pretend to listen. This teaching thing isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Occasionally, I toss out an idea and let them run with it. Sometimes, I pay attention, mostly I don’t. Mostly I’m thinking of You. Of how beautiful You looked at that art show, of how You gasped when you saw me like You couldn’t decide if You wanted to run to me or away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Y/N timidly raise her hand and You are temporarily pushed aside. She keeps her hand up but close to her chest, as if the very act of asking to speak is somehow terrifying.

How can someone so brave be so terrified to do something as common as speak in class? She’s clearly not a scared person by nature- she moved across an ocean to attend university when she could have gone for free back home to whatever state college she decided to attend. I’ve peeked at her transcripts- she’s smart. Not win a genius grant or a full ride smart, but smart. Why is she so nervous?

I smile and a bit of her nerves seem to quell. Her shoulders relax an inch and she smiles back.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, Y/N,” I tell her, laughing gently to put her at ease.

She dips her chin and then looks up with the most beautiful gaze I have ever seen. Her lashes flutter upwards in slow motion, the darkness of her pupils expand, pushing nearly every fleck of color away except the gemlike glow cast by the stained glass window over my head. She smiles and her lips shine like glass. Soft, pink, beautiful glass. I can’t look away and yet I absolutely have to. Thankfully, she speaks and I can act like I’m moving away to sit in my chair and not to get away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, sweet voice sweeping over the room. “I just didn’t want to jump in because I was late but-”

“But you have something to add,” I finish for her.

Her eyes float back to me and the atmosphere shifts. The foreboding of a lighting strike vanishes and the room seems to warm up. Quickly, I sit and scoot the chair close to the desk, set my elbows on the top, clasp my hands near my lips. I can’t stop staring at her.

She nods. “Yes. If that’s alright.”

There it is again, the tiniest speck of British on her tongue. How long has she been living here, and why? It can’t just be for school. She’s too interesting for that. She dresses to blend in; muted colors and clean jeans, her hair always swept back, face free of plastering makeup or too much color. There’s only ever that pink gloss and a gentle brush of mascara. It’s as if she doesn't know how beautiful she is, or perhaps, she doesn’t care.

Or was she one of those kids who never really got any attention until they blossomed but by then it was too late to fit into their personality?

She chews her lip nervously and shyly looks away from me.

No, she knows. She knows how beautiful she is, she just isn’t one to flaunt it; doesn’t need the attention. Or is that how she draws them in?

She’s already talking, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying. I can hear her voice, that honey like glaze she adds to things when she’s speaking passionately, but the actual words, the meaning- I can’t follow a damned thing. I’m too busy trying to figure her out.

You flash through my mind for a moment; a sweet memory of a smile in the library when You didn’t think I was looking.

What is it about a smile that says so much without words? Does it show who we really are or who we’re pretending to be?

“I just think that love shouldn’t be so easily condemned.”

Y/N’s comment breaks through my thoughts of You and I clear my throat, straighten up in my chair, focus.

Across the room, Nadia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with Y/N’s interpretation. “This isn’t love, it’s obsession. The two can’t and shouldn’t be intertwined.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip and shakes her head.

What does that lip gloss taste like? Berries, perhaps… No. Stop it. Focus.

“I disagree.” Y/N sits forward and tucks her hands below the table. “Love is obsession. Obsession is love. It’s not a tautology, no, but you can have one with the other. If you’re not even a little obsessed with the person you love, is it really love at all?”

My mind is zinging, my ears ringing. Does she truly believe that, or is it all for the sake of debating Nadia? They’ve been at war most of the semester, but this seems truthful, deep.

The bell rings before I can recenter and add anything. I give my head a little shake and stand up, the chair rolling back behind me.

“Class dismissed. Great job today. Lively, wonderful discourse.” I fake a smile at the rest and then settle on Y/N.

She’s taking her time, hanging back as she gathers her things. She stuffs a notebook into her bag and the pen she’s been using rolls away from her.

“Crap.” She lunges across the table for it, but it’s too close to the edge, too far from her reach.

I drop down at the last second and save it from a dusty fate of rolling across the floor. “Gotcha.”

She’s staring when I stand up. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t shy away, but looks even deeper somehow. A smile lifts her cheeks and my pulse quickens.

No.

She holds out her hand and there’s a fleeting second when I want to trace my fingers across her palm, feel how soft and warm she is, but no. I toss her the pen and turn, trying to get her out of my head.

I have more important things to do than become a tired cliche. Some professor falling for a student. It’s an outrageous thought, and besides, I don’t need Y/N, I have You.

I hear the zipper close and a chair being pushed in. She’s leaving.

She lingers in the door and turns back to me with a sweet smile. “Have a good weekend, Professor.”

Her tone is so genuine, so kind that it nearly knocks me backwards. I can’t remember the last time anyone has truly wished me a good time. It’s such an overused pleasantry, so common and boring, but not when she says it. Not when she smiles at me like that, with her eyes still and focused on me.

The warmth spreading through me is real as well and I can’t seem to push it away. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to stand let alone return the sentiment. “You too.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly but it feels like forever. Two more classes, two more groups of students droning on about what the author really meant, when none of them, not a single one seems to be able to read between the fucking lines. None of them can step back and see the whole picture, capture the meaning as a universe unto itself and not just a line in black and white on an otherwise blank page.

Y/N could read between the lines. Y/N would understand the sum of it all. She would get it.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

On my walk home, I think about You. Wondering what You’re up to, where You are tonight. The sun is setting, dragging the sky down into a deep pink and I wonder if You are seeing the same colors where You are. Someday, we’ll sit together on an island in the Pacific and see what that sunset looks like. Would You paint it for me, I wonder…

Y/N crosses my mind for a moment as I gaze at the light reflecting off a window as I pass. Would the sunset hit her shining lip gloss in the same way? Would the pink deepen with the sky? Would she smile if she caught me staring, back away if I leaned in to drag my thumb across her juicy, pink bottom lip?

No.

Darkness has settled and I haven’t moved to turn on a lamp. I’m stuck, glued to my sofa, my hands nailed to my thighs. I keep my eyes open for fear of seeing her face, but bouncing around the room looking for a distraction is only giving me a headache. I need to get out. I need something to do. I need-

A knock at the door.

Who would be knocking at my door at nearly ten o’clock at night?

Curiosity pulls me off of the couch and I switch on the lights as I head to the door. The peephole is clouded as fuck, but I can see her outline. My stomach tightens, my shoulders tense.

What is she doing here?

Her hand raises to knock again, but I unlatch the door before her knuckles hand. I find her dangling in the air, her startled face the most appealing thing I’ve seen in ages. Her eyes go wide, her jaw drops just enough to give me a peek at her tongue. Quickly, she rights herself and shies her gaze away. She chews her lip and I notice the pink gloss is gone, replaced by a deeper red.

Everything about her is different tonight. Her hair is down and fresh, her eyes are lined in black and the color blended above brings out the prisms in her eyes. Her clothes are strange as well: a short skirt, tall boots, a blouse that’s too tight to hide anything. There’s a gold string around her throat, something old, a gift perhaps from a dead relative, or a chance find at an antique shop. She would like diving through boxes of discarded wares looking for treasures, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe I’m just distracted by her appearance. Maybe I should stop trying to pick her apart and send her far, far away.

I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed. I’m good. I have to be good for You.

It’s been too long since either of us has said anything and the fact of it is hanging in the air between us like some kind of glowing, awkward sign.

Thankfully, she speaks.

“Um… Hi.”

It isn’t much, but it breaks the painful silence.

I smile, confused but curious. My ultimate downfall.

“Y/N. What are you doing here?”

I should say something about it being inappropriate, something about contacting me only during office hours, but she knows. That’s not why she’s here. I can see it in her eyes.

Her hands are tucked behind her back, I notice. She’s holding something, not just shoving her tits in my face, although, I can’t say that I mind. She sees that I’m looking and turns to the side a bit to hide it more.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming herself, steeling her nerves. Why is she so nervous? What secret is she hiding? What plan has been brewing all day in her head?

That’s it, isn’t it? She was late this morning, distracted and timid because she was planning to come here.

I should be flattered, but I’m too intrigued by her boldness as she slides past me into my flat.

“I know this is highly inappropriate,” she says, the confession like a song on her lips. “But… I… Well…”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way while she searches for the right words. It’s endearing and makes me want to sit for hours and listen to her talk, discover exactly who she is and why.

I’m still standing in the open doorway, I realize, so I move aside and let it close. My back presses into the door and I hold my tongue, letting her get to the point.

She’s struggling, dancing around it in her head.

I want to crack open her skull and watch the thoughts spark through the gray matter like shooting stars.

“If you’re worried you’ll get in trouble,” I say, trying to get things moving, “you won’t. I’m just wondering why you’re here and how it is that you know where I live.”

She laughs and digs her tooth into the corner of her lip. “I’m not… stalking you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Nothing that nefarious,” she goes on. “But I did do something bad.”

The nerves seem to fall away from her the more she speaks and her demeanor changes. Her voice deepens ever so slightly and her hip pops to the side as she looks me over. Is she… flirting with me?

“I doubt you’ve done anything newsworthy, Miss Y/L/N…”

She takes a step forward and her lips pucker gently.

She is flirting with me.

“I hope not,” she says with a little laugh. “You see, I work part time in the admin office…”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know a lot about her. So many things to uncover, so many artifacts to dust off and examine.

“OK…” I push off from the door and take a step towards her. She counters, stepping backwards, guiding me to follow.

“And, well, I accidentally was looking at your files and-”

“Accidentally?”

She presses her tongue between her front teeth and smiles, eyes falling across my face. “Accidentally on purpose,” she clarifies. “I was… curious.”

“About me?”

Another step closer but she doesn’t move this time, letting me close the space between us by a few forbidden inches.

She sighs sweetly. “A little, yes.”

I dip my chin and look up, lifting my brows in question. She pulls in a quick breath, clearly enjoying the look I’ve given her.

“OK, maybe a little more than a little.”

One more step and I’m closer than I’ve ever really been to her, except just now when she invited herself in. I take a breath and she smells warm like vanilla, sweet like honey. The fantasy of berries on her lips falls away and I suddenly want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and do nothing but breathe in her scent, feel it invade my senses, infect my bloodstream.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and her eyes grow a little darker. She wants me.

“Maybe a lot curious,” she whispers, lifting her chin and blinking slowly.

Is she daring me to kiss her? Can she feel the lightning between us? Dare I?

No. She’s a student. She’s off limits. She’s not… You.

She must notice my hesitation and steps back a pace. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I saw that it was your birthday today.”

It’s not my birthday. Not my real birthday, anyway, just the one on the fake passport with the fake name and real photo.

I smile because I have to. “It is.”

Whatever she’s hiding behind her back shifts between her hands. “And, well, it’s presumptuous of me but I’ve never heard you talk much about friends or family and… you don’t wear a… ring. I just… Well, I know how hard it is to be a world away from what you know, and this city isn’t exactly kind in general, so…”

She’s rambling and I don’t ever want her to stop. Her voice ebbs and flows over me like a sultry tsunami and I can feel my fingers twitch, my blood rush through my system faster and faster.

“I just don’t think anyone should be alone or forgotten on their birthday so-” Finally, she reveals the mystery behind her back and holds out a green glass bottle. “I took a chance that you were a scotch man. At first I thought wine, but I know nothing about wine, and the guy at the shop said this one was good, so… Happy birthday, Professor.”

She hands me the bottle and without thinking, I take it. It’s not expensive by any means, but it’s the gesture that counts. She doesn’t let go right away, holding it with me, as if she can communicate her desires through the blown glass.

“Thank you.” I smile, let my finger brush against hers. “This is… very thoughtful.”

She lets go but doesn’t move otherwise. Her eyes are locked on me, her stare so pure.

I have to get her out of here.

Y/N shrugs and smiles, so confident now, so sure. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know if it’s any good.”

Her meaning lingers and I nod, gesture to the sofa as I start to peel off the seal on the top of the bottle.

“Join me for a glass?”

She bites her lip again and I nearly lose it.

“Love to.”

The scotch isn’t terrible but it’s not great. More like something you’d grab if you were just looking to get drunk, not necessarily gift someone you’re trying to impress.

Is that what she’s doing here? Trying to get me drunk? Surely, she knows she’s impressed me long before today. The looks between us in class, the lectures directed almost entirely at her have not gone unnoticed, but this, this is different. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

The sofa suddenly feels too small. We sit close, drinking and chatting about life in London. She tells me about her family back home and how she had to cross an ocean to escape a misspent youth and an abusive father figure. I lie my way through a few answers but mostly, I let her talk.

The more she drinks, the looser her tongue gets, the freer her gestures. More than once, her hand falls to my knee and even though I should, I don’t push her away. Even though I should stand up, take her glass, ask her to get the hell out of my house, I can’t. I can’t do anything but stare at her lips as she speaks, drown myself in the tone of her voice, memorize the shape of her ears, her nose, slope of her shoulder. I’m lost in time with her and even though I know the clock is careening past midnight, I don’t care. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to move. I want to be frozen in this moment with her. I want to die in her arms but not before…

“Professor?” She laughs gently, loose and relaxed from the alcohol. She leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s been saying, but I can’t let her know that. I shift a bit, turning towards her. There’s barely room left for the Holy Ghost, as they say, but I doubt he’d begrudge me a little closeness, especially on my- on Jonathan’s birthday.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, captivated by the way she’s glowing. “I’m always listening to you.”

She squirms a bit and smiles behind her glass, takes another sip, downing the rest. There’s a drop of amber gold on her lip and it takes every ounce of restraint in me not to sweep it away with my tongue.

She pats the back of her hand against it and the moment is gone.

“Ya know, you’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You really are. I get you. I see you, Jonathan Moore. I see inside you.”

She slurs a bit, but not enough for it to be considered a crime if I touch her. That’s all I want to do, just a simple touch. Just to feel how soft she is beneath my fingers, how smooth the curve of her cheek.

Ripping myself away from the impulse, I take the glass from her hand and set hers next to mine on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss. Y/L/N.”

Her hand lands on my chest, right in the very center of me. Can she feel my heartbeat? Does she know how much I want her?

“You can call me by my name, ya know,” she says, dropping her chin and smiling. She’s so close that it would take but a tiny nudge to taste her. “Everyone just calls me Y/N/N.”

This is insane. She needs to leave. I need to slam the door behind her and never open it again.

“Y/N/N.”

Her name falls from my tongue like an incantation and her eyes go hazy. She leans closer, her breath fanning over my lips.

“Say it again,” she asks, nearly begging, “please…”

Fuck, this isn’t good. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I need to- Fuck, what does it all matter? She’s beautiful and interesting and smart and sitting next to me barely dressed and all she wants is me to whisper her name. What’s the harm?

“Y/N/N.”

The spell falls over her and I know it’s too late to back away. Her eyes fall closed and she leans in, pressing her crimson painted lips to mine. She exhales, pushes herself into the kiss, lets out a tiny moan.

She feels so good and it’s all I can think about. She pulls back and I lean in, needing more. My arms wrap around her, stealing her away. She melts against me, opens her lips to my tongue. The vanilla on her skin mixes with the scotch on her tongue and I’m blown away.

“Professor…”

If feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop breathing into her with every ounce of air in my body.

I let her go for a second, thinking she’s changed her mind, but no, she’s even more ready than I am.

She stands up, fits her knees in between mine and slowly unbuttons her blouse.

My eyes are huge, I know it. I must look like an idiot but I can’t help it. She’s here, beautiful and curvaceous, teasing me, undressing for me. It’s all for me. She’s here for me.

The blouse floats to the floor and she looks down at me, a hint of previous nerves returning. Her bra is pale pink and covered in lace. Something so pure and innocent covering up something I would kill for.

I would, I realize. I would kill for her.

She wiggles out of her skirt and her hips are distracting. I want to touch, to feel my bones crushing into hers, to sink myself deep inside just to see what it’s like, to know her, to feel all of her.

“You like?” she asks, innocence ringing in her soft voice.

What happened in her past that would make her ask such a thing? Who hurt her so badly, who crushed her self esteem to the point that she wouldn’t be able to tell if I was enjoying her delicious display?

“Of course. You’re… absolutely stunning.”

I can’t say more or I’ll break. I reach for her and she slides into my lap, locking her thighs around mine. She presses down on me and my cock responds, all blood and logic rushing down to push back at her ass.

She wraps her hands around my neck and bends to kiss me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, she curls them, tugs gently, testing, enjoying. Her kisses deepen and her hips roll. I’m about to lose my mind.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day of class,” she moans, scraping her nails across my scalp.

The sensation is intoxicating and my eyes roll back a bit as she tugs hard. Her right hand is locked in my hair and her left is dragging down my chest. I should stop her. I should stand up. I should…

“Fuck.”

Her hand sneaks into my slacks and she scoots back onto my knees for better access. I can’t even think straight as she rubs at my cock. Her hand is soft, warm, firm. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t help it. I might just die here beneath her.

Her tongue glides across my lips. “So hard to sit in class and not dream about fucking you…”

Something snaps inside of me and I let go. I grab at her tits, peel the delicate lace down and pinch her nipples hard until she’s crying out and arching against me.

“I can’t even read anymore,” she admits, nearly breathless as my lips seal around her left nipple. “Every page makes me think of you. I can hear every word in your voice. I- oh God-”

I bite down just enough to stop her train of thought and I look up to see a blank, beautiful stare.

“I want you,” she whispers, lips never quite closing after.

Fuck. This is what I was trying to avoid. This feeling, this hunger inside of me. This need to fall into someone else, this treacherous lust that forces me to act.

“Please…”

Her hand falls to the nape of my neck and it’s so delicate, so tender that I break.

Wrapping my arms around her, I stand and twist, flipping her over onto her back. She gasps and reaches for me, kissing through the shock while I tug the slacks from my hips. She yanks at my shirt, fumbling with the tiny plastic buttons, licking at every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want you inside me so bad,” she sings, nearly praying as if I’m some ancient god on high that can make all her dreams come true.

I don’t know about all of them, but this prayer, I can answer.

I tear the lace from her hips and fall down over her, crushing her into the old sofa. Her breath stops for a blessed second and I swear I can hear her heart racing through the silence. She runs her hands across my shoulders and down, curling them around my hips while spreading her legs wider.

“Please… Please… Please…”

Her whine is pathetic but I can’t get enough. If I had it in me to drag this out, to tease her for hours, I would, but the scotch has clouded my head and the sight of her strung out and desperate makes it impossible to wait.

She inhales hard when I sink into her. I can feel myself falling but I press my hands beside her head and hold on as best I can.

She feels like heaven.

Or the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know.

Wet and warm and tight, I can feel her throbbing around me. Every thrust is like magic, making her shiver and squirm and tighten up even more. She clings to me, nails digging into my arms, mouth searching and thirsty for more.

“Jon-”

I almost go insane. It’s not even my name, but it feels so right on her lips that I wish it was.

I feel her orgasm; her body clenching down on me and pulling me in deeper. It’s so hard not to scream her name at the top of my lungs. Nearly impossible not to stay here forever.

I fall down, shove my face into the crook of her neck and thrust a few more times. I know it’s over too soon, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rakes her hand through my hair, gently this time, and finds my lips, kissing me sweetly.

“Hi,” she laughs when our eyes finally focus and find each other through the afterglow.

God, she’s beautiful. So giving, so loving, so perfect in a million different ways that it’s actually breaking my heart.

I smile and peck her lips as I go soft inside of her.

“Hello, You.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[purgemarchlockdown]

I'm not really someone who enjoys participating in discourse. I find that the environment is too volatile and prone to ad-hominem to really work as any kind of reasoned debate. People look for the things that confirm their perspective and get mad when they don't. I do that. It's not really constructive and as such I don't really like writing anything about it.

Plus I enjoy writing things about what I care about, and what I find interesting. For obvious reasons, why would I put my energy into something that I find boring or makes me upset?

I'm saying all of this to state that I have a distinct frustration of the current discussion going around with Amane. Now, I'm biased. Amane is my favorite character. I have an inclination towards defending her. One could argue that should discount me from the discussions but then I think we'd have to discount everyone from it since Everyone Is Biased!

You can't have a discussion if you don't have an opinion, and attacks on someone's character based on what you Think their argument will be like is not constructive! Actually it's usually the opposite. Let's all be reasonable here, and not descend into baseless insults based on what we want our opponent to be like for the sake of our ego.

After all:

The fine line between "Hate" and "OK"Shouldn't you look beyond your EGO, before it all ends? After knowing all, I wonder Can you really say INNOCENT?

Let's establish my argument.

I find the reaction towards Amane Momose after the deaths of Haruka Sakurai, Mahiru Shiina, and Shidou Kirisaki to be disproportionate, and the mentalities and biases at play to be distressing.

I also find that the logic underlying the argument to be faulty and unconvincing most of the time. And this whole discourse to be a distraction from more important and interesting discussions to be had about this whole series!

For one, I don't think the argument of whether Amane should have been guilty or innocent in trial 2 to be relevant for trial 3 and its voting. As due to the fact trial 3 is going to be the Last Trial, any argument for or against the safety of the prison (a major factor in this discourse) is rendered Irrelevant by the fact they won't be in the prison after this.

This is their final verdict and their final fates will be decided here. The most relevant points of discussion for a trial 3 vote is their crime and their current mentality within the prison. As a result the vote that came to pass in Trial 2 is irrelevant to the Trial 3 voting situation.

This is why I think it's a distraction to argue about whether if people were right or not to do so in Trial 2. Now it's genuinely sad that these characters are dead but ultimately we have to live with that. I find it frustrating that people are harping on this so much as if it proves something about Amane's Character (moral or otherwise) that everyone else missed.

One can argue that Amane has shown how destructive her worldview in this moment (thus also connecting it back to the trial 3 voting and it's relevance,) and while I have my own qualms about immediately assuming Amane is at fault for this (we will get to this later) and I, again, find the argument surrounding if she should have been voted guilty or innocent a distraction. I do think it's important to acknowledge that.

One, all these people committing murder was already a showcase that their worldview's could be destructive. You can argue that they're on their best behavior, or that their crime was a circumstantial thing. But then we'd have to ask the same questions regarding Amane's circumstance before the murder she (presumably) committed against Shidou and the one she committed against her mom.

Shidou did not just die because she hated medicine. Shidou was someone who repeatedly made her feel small and talked down to her.

Amane: I warned you. I can no longer turn a blind eye to this wickedness taking place right in front of us. You’re bringing ruin unto yourself. Do you understand? Shidou: No, I don’t understand. It’s my job as an adult to teach you that throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to make everything go your way. If it’s a test of endurance you want, I’m happy to oblige, Amane.

People might think that this reaction is unreasonable, but the point is not if she's right or not for feeling this way, but that she Did feel that way. And I would like to posit that the stressful conditions Amane was under exasperated the problem, thus pushing her more towards killing Shidou.

And either way, my point is that she's not inherently destructive she just holds the ability to cause destruction when under the right circumstances...like everyone else.

Arguing that she's more destructive because she's "too far gone" misses things like how Muu's worldview hasn't been examined all too much even with the trial 2 guilty, or how Shidou's worldview wasn't examined all too much and he's implied to have killed:

A lot of people.

One can say that they only did these things due to the circumstances surrounding them but that just goes back to my first point. Arguing that Amane is uniquely more dangerous, despite the fact that like everyone else her murder has a specific circumstance surrounding it feels like a double standard.

Two, characters like Kotoko have arguably more destructive worldviews, and while there Was Discourse surrounding how people should have voted her in trial 1, it is not nearly as debated as Amane's is. Which again feels like a double standard.

And ultimately, even if we ignore the double standards at play here and how this is stuff we have Known Since the Beginning, we still have no clue of Amane's Mentality Now, we don't know how she seems in Trial 3 at all.

We can't immediately assume she's dealing with all of this well just cause we Assume that she's the reason behind the events, for one she was close to Mahiru.

T2Q8: If you had to make one of the prisoners part of your family, who would you choose? A: Shiina Mahiru. Her innate goodness might have brought the two of us closer, maybe.

And this situation is really close to something sensitive to Amane. The death of the cat.

As a result we cannot use this to adequately determine her current mental state, my original criticism still stands. The relevance this has to a Trial 3 vote is pretty...lacking. As a result we can't say this discourse exists so that we can determine what should be done in trial 3. This firmly exists as an argument of who was right and who was wrong in Trial 2.

One can call it petty (I have) or a distraction (I just did) but since I'm writing a post on it I am participating in that distraction. We can now travel to the second part of this post. Which is a dissection of the arguments for Trial 2 now that people have died.

Now, obviously people should be allowed to have opinions and have passionate feelings about those opinions. However I think the reasoning behind opinions, me or yours, should be questioned. It's good for a nuanced debate for opinions to be questioned, and for the other party to listen.

I for one have seen a lot of questioning about T2 Innocent Amane now. Some of it being blatant ad-hominem mind you, but lets take a charitable look at the discussion. Do I have a good counterargument against common arguments I've seen about this? Well, sort of, for one I would like to question the assumption that if Amane did kill Shidou that she should hold all the blame for Mahiru's death, first of all.

If we are working under the assumption that Amane killed Shidou and that means she killed Mahiru. Then can't we also say Kotoko killed Mahiru? She's the one who beat her up in the first place after all. And if we're going to say that then putting the full weight of responsibility of the deaths on Amane feels unfair. She's not the one who beat her up after all.

Additionally, if we're really tracing the threads of consequences back to the source then really shouldn't we be the ones taking responsibility due to how we created a Trial one?

Arguing on these grounds inevitably leads to questions about the Audience's own moral integrity if followed to the logical conclusion. If we believe Amane should be punished for this and that the earlier act of voting innocent in Trial 2 is incorrect because we let her "do something bad" then shouldn't that apply to the Audience? To Kotoko? To Shidou for clearly not doing as much as he could to help considering that Mahiru was in his care for Twenty Nine Months? To Kazui for not doing anything to protect anyone even though he Said he would?

I think it's reasonable to say that if any of us put the full weight of blame on any of the other people I mentioned this would be contested. But I'm not saying they should have the full weight of the blame put on them. I'm pointing out a double standard here.

That Amane is treated as if she did all the work killing both Shidou AND Mahiru, assuming that she did kill Shidou and that lead to Mahiru's death. That she's being given a harsher treatment here regrading the consequences of her choices, despite the fact everyone else made their choices and they had consequences. Again, including the one who actually beat up Mahiru in the first place.

And before anyone brings up Kotoko is guilty and that means she's being treated harshly. That's not my point. I'm not saying Kotoko isn't being treated harshly. I'm saying Amane is being treated too harshly Despite the fact that other people and factors we're at play and Despite the fact we already Guilty Voted the one who arguably should have the most blame be put on her for the situation at hand.

Second thing, we...don't know if Amane killed Shidou?

I know that she's Said she's going to do it multiple times over, but this is a series known for pulling tricks on the Audience and giving red herrings to distract from more hidden things at play. Again I have already said that Mahiru has been injured for at least 29 months. That is not a normal time of recovery for the injuries she has received. That is more than 2 years. Even with Potential Milgram Time Weirdness considered it's still an unnaturally long time to be injured and Getting Worse despite being treated by a doctor.

Additionally, with Haruka's death we know with some certainty that the restraints on the guilty prisoners aren't as restrictive as we thought. And we have a certain prisoner here who has been very vocal about wanting to hurt people. Not to mention if Shidou is doing malpractice again then a lot of people probably want him dead.

However, my point here is not that "other people could have done the murder" cause ultimately that feels a bit weak as an argument, if you trust in Amane doing her murder then saying "it's possible that it wasn't her" isn't really convincing.

I wrote all of that to ask a question, why are we assuming Amane killed Shidou? That seems like something I've already answered, she said she would.

However, other characters, have been pretty blatant about what they were going to do and that was Ignored. For one, people didn't think Haruka was going to commit suicide, and even if he did the guilty restraints would protect him (despite the fact we knew from Amane's T2 VD that the restraints aren't as restrictive as we thought, an argument used FOR the idea that Amane should be guilty.)

A second example would also actually be Kotoko. Kotoko, was not exactly secretive about her intentions of beating up the people who Us, The Audience deemed as guilty. She was very clear actually about what teaming up with her meant. And yet we accepted it and then got mad at her when she did that.

When it came to Haruka that was due to infantalization and a belief it could have been prevented through other means, when it came to Kotoko that's cause her words aligned with most people's beliefs in the abstract that we were willing to ignore the warning signs regarding her.

So why then, when it comes to Amane, we take her words completely at face value? What about this situation has changed that make it so we Can't ignore what she says? Can't twist it to mean something else? Can't say "Oh its possible that" and have it be convincing.

We can't say it's because people's lives are on the line, we've already shown that with Haruka and Kotoko that's not enough, and again, we can't say it's because she was clear in her intentions. So what gives?

Now, what I'm about to say might be considered an ad-hominem to some. However, I think criticizing a mentality held by a group and direct attack against one person is different actually. If you've gotten this far and think I'm attacking you, no I'm not.

(You can say I'm straw-manning though if you want. I am holding an imaginary debate here.)

However, I think the reason why Amane is being treated, frankly, unfairly, is pretty simple.

She's a child that spoke out against someone who was older than her. Who's been Very Vocal about how much disdain she holds for Milgram as a prison system. Who in Trial 1 we voted guilty because the consensus was that we needed to "teach her to be better." Now, I'm not saying anyone here is an abusive parent or doomed to become one. If that's what you're thinking.

I am however saying, in our society, we have ingrained hierarchies when it comes to children and adults. Children are below the adults. They have to follow the rules set by adults. When they disobey they are punished by the adults.

This is brought up by Es themself to claim power over Amane.

Es: No matter what you do, no matter how grown-up you behave – you’re a child. That’s an unchangeable truth. Amane: You’re a child, too! Es: Wrong. I’m fifteen, so I’m an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti. You’re twelve, so you’re a child no matter the country.

This is right after Amane attacks Es. A physical question of their authority over her. Es' response is to Claim that as her Superior she has to Listen To Them and Follow What They Say. That despite everything she is a Child while They Are Not.

I have said double standard so much in this post you're probably sick of me saying it. However, this is why I keep on saying it.

And it's not like Amane is the only victim of it! I already brought up that we ignored Haruka's voice due to infantalization! It just manifested differently here because the way to spite Haruka in Trial 2 was to Ignore What He Said. However the way to spite Amane in Trial 2 is to Accept what she says and Vote Her Guilty Based On it.

This is the crux of my problem. This is not just about what is good for the prison. This is about spitting a child who disobeyed against a perceived authority. I don't think this ideology should go unchallenged. Especially when the subject of it is an abuse victim. Like Haruka was.

Jackalope says it himself in the Trial 2 Report:

Whatever the circumstances may be, she is the one that has to bear the blame. That’s just how it is. Both in and out of MILGRAM, isn’t that right?

Now, look, if you're someone who genuinely voted Amane Guilty in Trial 2 because you understood that to be the best choice and are now upset that what you expected to happen did happen. That's fine.

However, I believe, the reason why we are still debating about this past the point it should be over. The reason why people still care despite me already illustrating that it doesn't really matter for Trial 3. Is because of this. It's because people are upset a child spoke up against them.

And I just find that to be unacceptable to leave unquestioned. Because people will say Anything to deflect from being questioned about this. That it's not that serious. That it doesn't really matter. That people are overreacting over some silly show.

But, you can look through my blog. I just made a few posts about this before I wrote this, most of them un-rebloggable to make sure No One saw them outside of who followed me. I've been writing this in an exceedingly formal tone partially out of fear of being harassed for this.

I'm not the one who brought this argument up again. I'm Responding to people who brought it up again.

Maybe it's just me but...doesn't that contradict that statement? And even so, Milgram is written To be taken seriously. And people Have taken the previous discussions seriously.

Why is it suddenly wrong when this one is taken seriously?

I think the people reading this are smart enough to figure out why.

[psilliguykai]

WELCOME TO WILLIAM’S WANTON WEARY WILES!

An impulsive, apathetic man’s misanthropic jams. An eclectic collection of futile dissensions, a pretentious pile of literary bile filled with self destructive theatrics and rectifying tactics and any other slew of showy words.

Welcome.

(Info under the cut)

*queue WTTH instrumental*

Hello boys, girls, neithers, boths, and in-betweens and welcome to William’s Wanton Weary Wiles, a Will Wood/WWATTW x CCCC AU! Consider this a masterpost. Note that this AU is still very much in development, and this post will be updated as things change/get added :] Also. being totally up front. I’ve never made an AU or attempted a story this complex before, so please bare with me if things get confusing! Feedback is appreciated ^^

Warning! WWWW tackles sensitive topics, but nothing foreign to Will Wood or Chonny Jash’s music. Appropriate warnings will be put in the tags of each post, but overall CW/TW for: alcoholism/addiction, mental health issues, suicidal ideation, manipulation, and (moderate) violence.

The WWWW AU story is very similar to the original CCCC album, but with slightly different themes and tone. It still follows HMSW after Whole splits, creating Heart, Mind, and Soul. However, each character and their dynamics + certain plot points (e.g the Juno incident) are altered.

Asks about this AU are extremely welcome! Could be genuine questions, thoughts, serious, silly - anything (so long as it’s SFW!) is great and will help me with making this a Better and Actual Thing :3

In WWWW each member of HMSW represents and is based off of a WW(ATTW) album. Each character’s songs are from their respective albums, and the story will be told in the form of a written series of covers of songs by WW/WWATTW (plus some visual pieces :]). These will be posted individually and linked here as they get released.

3/31/25 EDIT: The information above is somewhat outdated! The idea of having to write 20+ song covers has been kind of killing my motivation for this project, so I've decided I will only be writing the covers I'm confident and interested in. However, the full tracklist with notes on what happens in each song will be posted soon[ish] and hyperlinked here when it's finished so you all still get the full storyline :]

While HMSW still exist with the same vague concepts and color themes, they do diverge a decent bit from the original CCCC album and I would not consider them to be representations of canon HMSW (or of any real people, including Whole /srs). Ref sheets have been posted and are linked in each character's name.

Important overall info: 

- HMS exists in a sort of parallel reality I’m calling Marybell (as a reference to Suburbia Overture as well as The Prescription). It’s a town within Will’s psyche that reflects his reality. It can change depending on his state of mind/current situation, and pretty much only exists to provide a physical space for HMS.

- Time loop!! Soul remembers every loop and knows the vague events that happen when Will is whole (though the memories are less clear than when he’s split). Heart and Mind don’t remember previous loops and aren’t really aware of anything when HMS is combined. Physical changes caused to any of HMS remain, even when the timeloop resets.

- LI does exist in WWWW! She’s about as significant as she is in CCCC and will probably get at least an intro, if not her own ref sheet at some point. I also have a sort of Darrell-equivelant which will probably get his own thing at some point as well.

Meet the cast: 

All characters have multiple names which can/will be used interchangeably. I’ve included the pronouns I think the characters would use, but you all are welcome to use whatever you’d like for any of them. Run free :3 here are the posts with the ref sheets for each of them - info on its own is below:

William

Jimmy/Laplace/Cotard

Whole:

- Whole/Will/William Racheal McSprout

- In Case I Make It

- He/him (GNC Cis Guy)

- 23-24 years old across the album

- Works at a small grocery/general tourist store

- Makes music as a side hobby. Not that successful lol. He makes decent stuff though - within the AU, the ICIMI covers featured would be considered his original music. 

- Spends his extra money on video games, alcohol, music equipment (sorta, though he mostly borrows shit and uses free programs), and serving cunt (fashion/makeup stuff)

- Not aware of HMS, though they’re aware of him. Mostly just feels a general sense of dissonance during splits, rather than Knowing the presence of these Multiple Actual Guys. Can’t interact with Marybell, same as HMS can’t (directly) interact with the “Real World”.

Soul:

- The Soul/Mr. Capgras/Cotard/Atlas

- He/it

- SELF-iSH

- Whole’s “self” - who he is at his core. His identity and personality at its most raw form. 

- He’s the most in-tune with Will’s actual state of being (health, emotions, etc.) and considers himself to somewhat be William, just separated and with pieces of himself missing. 

- Ultimate goal is to become a Happy Healthy and Alive Whole. Unlike in CCCC, the self-destruction is left more to H/M in this one .

- Knows he needs to get Heart and Mind to work together if he wants to keep William good and well, but he’s growing incredibly tired throughout the loops. He primarily experiences Will’s worst moments and rarely gets a break. Spends most of him life trying to get these. Fuckers. to get along and he’s so incredibly done with both of them. Growing distant, but ultimately does care about H/M on a personal level and really wishes they could all be happy together.

Mind:

- The Mind/Laplace/Al/Marsha/Apollo

- He/she

- The Normal Album

- Whole’s logic, as well as his self-control and calculated decision making. Doing his best to keep Will stable and often doing so to the point of burnout.

- Primarily tries to keep Heart in check, to the point of excessively trying to control it and Soul. Wants to keep Whole productive and functional by any means necessary. 

- At the end of the day, he does want Whole to live a happy life, but (despite keeping up a facade of superiority and strength) fears Heart’s impulsiveness/ erratic nature and feels the need to over-compensate in order to keep Will safe. 

Heart:

- The Heart/Jimmy/Vestal/Artemis

- He/it

- Everything Is a Lot

- Whole’s emotions, as well as his impulsiveness and indulgence. Sometimes joy-seeking, sometimes self-destructive. Often those two go hand in hand.

- Focused on breaking free from Mind’s controlling nature, trying to get her and Soul to “live a little”. Wants to allow Whole unbridled indulgence (in every whim and emotion, including negative) often to the point of self-destruction. 

- Ultimately knows he’s wrecking Will, but finds it’s the only way he knows to soothe his suffering. He knows Mind is right about them needing to get their shit together, but finds him difficult to work with and listen to when he’s so excessively overbearing. 

Tags:

Everything about this AU will be listed under the tags #wwww au and #william’s wanton weary wiles. 

Additional tags (color-coded according to character): #William Racheal McSprout, #Jimmy wwww, #Al wwww, and #Mr. Capgras wwww

[cha-melodius]

Traffic Light Tag Game

Thanks to @freneticfloetry for the tag on this one! I'm doing this instead of SSS, so I'm gonna tag anyone who tagged me for that below.

rules: talk about something creative you're working on of any kind.🚦 green: what is it about, what excited you about it, what sparked the idea? orange: slow down and share something from it: a photo, a few words, some more background info etc. red: what is the roadblock currently? what is one thing that is a necessary evil in making it?

green I've been working on a fic in which Alex is a pro rodeo star and Henry is a pro polo player. The idea was sparked a while ago by artofobsession/Hann, who simply posited that setup, and the idea of a horse-based AU was intriguing to me as a recovering horse girl lol. I decided they'd come into each others' orbits through a joint photoshoot for a new ad campaign for a shared sponsor, and their relationship would build over texts along with a couple of key in-person interactions.

orange

Recently I sourced some photos to represent Alex's horses, pls enjoy! Also a fun fact is that I grew up on a horse farm, which was itself next to a polo farm. Though I don't have a lot of Western riding experience, I do have some, and I've watched a decent number of Western events over the years. So I am drawing on a lot of personal history for this one.

red Before I started this I thought I might be able to make it no more than a longish oneshot, but once I started writing it, it really felt like it needed space to breathe. So often with these boys, we see them fall into bed together quickly in a kind of casual sex arrangement—which is understandable, given canon—but I felt like I wanted this one to be more about the growing tension where it's pretty clear that they both want each other, but for one reason or another they're just not pulling the trigger yet. Honestly I forgot how much fun writing excruciating unresolved sexual tension is. 😂 BUT them slowing down means the writing has slowed down, to the point that I'm gonna start bumping up against writing deadlines for other things. Right now it's at 20k and 4/6 chapters written, and I'm gonna need to take a little break to finish some other things (that will be short one shots!) before I get to the rest.

Thanks to @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @justabigoldnerd, @thosegayoldmen, @suseagull5914 and @wolfpup026 for the tags today, tagging you back for this game! And also tagging... @cricketnationrise @welcometololaland @alasse9 @caterpills @rmd-writes @too-young-to-fall-in-love @faketrex @anincompletelist @porcelainmortal @sparklepocalypse @eusuntgratie @ninzied @firenati0n @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @sherryvalli @kiwiana-writes @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper @noahreids @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @orchidscript @clottedcreamfudge @three-drink-amy @mirilyawrites @pippinoftheshire @in-my-loki-feels @onthewaytosomewhere, plus anyone who wants to play, please take the open tag!

[candysims4]

SWEET TOOTH SET

Oh my gosh, I am so excited about this new set and finally releasing it! I seriously can't get enough of these pieces - they're just so cute! Every little detail is lovely, from the bow in the hair to the hearts on the nails.

AS IT’S TOO MUCH TEXT, I’LL LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

360º GIF & THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): BONBON HAIR | APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) | BISCUITS EARRINGS | CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Free release on 17th October 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

BONBON HAIR

HAT GAME INCOMPATIBLE

6.476 POLYGONS

119 SWATCH COLORS - 24 plain colors from EA Color Palette - 95 plain colors from my Candy Color Palette

YOU WILL FIND IN LONG HAIR OR/AND STRAIGHT OR/AND UPDO

APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

1.320 POLYGONS

113 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 58 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/FINGERNAILS

BISCUITS EARRINGS

360 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

5.446 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN FULL BODY/SHORT DRESS

CREATOR’S NOTES:

Let's start with my favorite item of the set, Bonbon Hair. It's the cutest hair I've ever created, and I'm really proud of it. The bow is adorable, and I was finally able to make a great 3D model of it. I'm really happy with how the hair looks - it's exactly what I had in mind. I hope you love it too! One thing to note is that the bow on Bonbon Hair isn't removable and won't work with hats. Usually, I prefer hairstyles that can be worn with hats, but for this one, I needed more space for the bow's texture. I also drew the bow's shadow onto the hair's texture to give it more depth and a better overall look. I also made sure to keep the polycount low - around 6k polygons. I could have made it lower, but it didn't look as good in movement. So, I kept it at a higher polycount to maintain good movement without too much distortion.

I designed the dress to complement the hairstyle, adding a bow at the back for an extra touch of charm and romance. I used a new mesh from the latest kit that I couldn't wait to franken-meshing with it. My goal was to create a vintage silhouette and style, and while I'm not sure if it was successful, I'm very happy with the final result. At the end of the day, it looks cute, and that's all that really matters.

The nails are a kind of old wip that I finally decided to finish. It's one of the cutest designs I've ever come across, and I was determined to recreate it in The Sims. I love a stiletto design, and for me, one of the best nail art is this one; it matches the nail's format and is so cute. The nail includes two color options but only one spec option. However, I plan to create additional versions in the future, including a glossy and matte finish, possibly as part of a mini set that I'm working on that will have this and other versions of some of my recent clothing designs.

Next up, we have the Biscuits Earrings. These were originally a work in progress meant for a different set, but while I was styling the Sims, I realized how well they matched with the current Sweet Tooth Set. So, I quickly finished them up and included them as part of the set.

By now, it's all. Unfortunately, I've been working very slowly lately; thanks to this heat wave, I feel most of the day like I'm melting. It's scorching in here, guys. I don't understand how a person can say global warming is a lie; really, how?!