#this is such a fast drawing... i haven't been able to draw in a while because I fucked up my wrists but prison break klaasje posessed me

[wow-sofa-art]

Okay okay it's like 1 am but I need to draw Klaasje because I'm having some THOUGHTS about her... What if Harry arrests Klaasje and she ends up spending some time in prison before breaking out and going on the run again. PRISON BREAK KLAASJE. DO YOU SEE MY VISION?????

Anyways, my melatonin is kicking in now... What if she magically stumbles upon Ruby they have a horrible terrible reunion and she hides out in Ruby's truck for a while?

[rxmye]

" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[afterglowkatie]

new perspective | a.p.

alexia putellas x reader | 0.9k | 'when i came here, all i could think about was the day i’d get to leave - but lately, i’ve been avoiding thinking about it,'

❆♡────୨ holiday season blurb event ৎ────♡❆

The waves crashed against the shore. Knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them, you dug your feet into the sand while staring out at the ocean. The sun was glowing over the water as it was setting along the horizon. You sighed out. The end of the season was fast approaching and there was a lot on your mind.

You’d come to Barcelona expecting at the end of the year you’d move on. You had expected Barcelona to just be the club you had gone to because you had no other choice. To others Barcelona was a dream club but at the beginning it wasn’t like that to you. You never had that same draw to this club. Your previous club was your home. It was where you grew up, your loyalty had been with that club since you were nine years old.

There was never a thought in your head during that time that you would be forced out, your loyalty to the club meaning nothing in the end. To you, that was your forever club so you’d never dreamed about playing for any other club. You only signed with Barcelona for a year in the hopes that your previous club may come back to you, realising you were important to them and offer you a contract. Which they did. But things are different now.

‘I knew I’d find you here,’ in a room full of loud voices, her’s would be the only one you’d ever be able to hear. The girl who’s made things more difficult for you. Alexia sat next to you on the sand, her shoulder touching yours. 

‘Ale, how did you find me?’ Your voice was barely a whisper but it was enough for Alexia to hear you.

‘I know you, cari,’ Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest whenever Alexia was close to you, ‘Amor, are you okay?’ You knew that Alexia knew this was the place you’d come to whenever you needed a break from everything. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you here. It took Alexia finding you here a few times before you told her why you came to this place. Even if she had an idea of your reasoning she still appreciated you actually telling her.

‘When I came here, all I could think about was the day I’d get to leave,’ You breathed out, talking out into the night, out into the ocean as if the waves could carry away your words, as if they could carry away all your worries and doubts, let you be free from it all, ‘But lately, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it,’

The end of the season was approaching. Your previous club had come to you wanting you back. At the beginning of the season you were sure if you were in this situation that you would go back. But everything was different. It had only been a season but you felt like Barcelona was your home. Like it was the missing piece you never knew you needed.

‘You don’t have to leave,’ You’d told Alexia everything a few weeks ago, from how you felt when you first joined Barcelona to now, ‘I don’t want you to go,’ Alexia whispered, you almost didn’t catch it. The weight of her words were heavy.

It wasn’t unknown that you and Alexia had gotten quite close during the season. You complimented each other and clicked instantly. The two of you had gone from doing extra drills together after training, which was an excuse to spend more time and get to know each other more, that led into your dates that you never actually labelled as dates.

Though you both haven't addressed your feelings for each other, the two of you had fallen into your own little routine as the season went on, ‘I came here so sure that I wouldn’t be here longer than this year. I was so sure that if they wanted me back I would go without hesitation,’ You’d unconsciously leaned in closer to Alexia, leaning back on your hands to match how she was sitting, the tips of your fingers grazing hers, ‘But I am hesitating. I don’t want to go back,’ 

‘Then don’t go. Stay here with me amor. You’re important here,’ Alexia’s words had a double meaning. You had become important to Barcelona but you had also become important to Alexia, ‘Cari, por favor,’

You turned your head, your face now inches from hers. A small smile when your eyes caught Alexia’s, your hand now holding hers fully. Being here, so close, you knew there was only one choice you could make. You knew it was going to be the right one. When you came to Barcelona you hadn’t expected Alexia to steal a piece of your heart. But she did and if you left you knew you would have an Alexia shaped hole in your heart forever.

‘Ale, I don’t think I could leave you. I don’t want to,’ Words between you both were whispered, only meant for each other to hear. You placed your free hand gently on her cheek, Alexia instantly leaning into your touch. Her arm wrapped around you, pulling you into her, holding you as close as she could possibly have you. Connecting your lips, you kissed Alexia softly, everything you couldn’t put into words you expressed through the kiss. 

Reluctantly pulling away, you leaned your forehead against Alexia’s, staying as close as you could to each other, ‘Mi amor, you are my home now. I’m not going anywhere, prometo,’

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Logan Howlett/Fem mutant reader)

Chapter 1

(A/N): btw this takes place in an alternate universe where the x men as a team don't really exist, but the members and mutants obviously still do. readers powers are similar to atom eve from invincible, if you haven't seen that show i highly recommend it, but if not, you don't really need to know any of that to understand readers powers, they'll be explained in more detail later on.

Summary: You've spent your entire academic career trying to hide who you really are, your goal to end up working in a small museum or archive and live the rest of your life going unnoticed. The first day of grad school you meet someone that sparks something deep inside you that you never thought existed. Your history professor, Logan, makes you feel things you've never felt from someone before. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or will you get too close and risk him knowing who you really are?

Warnings: 18+!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI!! pls!!! oral (fem recieving), logan being a munch lowk, oral on the couch, teasing, dirty talking, cursing, logan being an asshole professor, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3,208

You anxiously rub your forehead as you struggle to find parking on campus, circling and circling the lot. Finally, someone pulls out and you turn in aggressively, someone in front of you flips you off, probably eyeing the same spot. You’re late. Very late. You have an American Civil War class, it’s an advanced level, with a professor whose name you cannot remember for the life of you. You’ve been preoccupied this summer, and time escaped you before you got the chance to research his credentials. It’s your first day of grad school and you’re late. A long commute, a new college, and shitty parking. You hope to god the professor doesn’t care or notice when you slip in late, as you carry a specific kind of disdain for drawing attention to yourself.

You were 13 when you first noticed something was wrong, walking home alone from school when a stranger tried to pin you down and do god knows what to you, until your eyes glowed a deep fuchsia and you threw him across the alley with a strength you didn’t even know you had. Your veins began glowing the same pink color and pulsating, scaring you shitless. You ran to the woods behind your house, avoiding your family for fear of harming them. With enough practice over the years, you’ve learned to control your abilities. Your eyes only glowing occasionally when you’re especially frustrated or angry. Sometimes even when you’re…taking care of some sexual urges. While you don’t know what causes these powers, you do know the general population’s feelings about mutants enough to understand that no one can know what you are. You don’t keep boyfriends for longer than 3 months, you don’t let friends become closer than you need them to be, and you don’t tell anyone what you are. You just want a normal life.

Your forehead is slick with sweat by the time you arrive at the history building, your breath heavy and labored, not from how fast you were walking to the building, but from anxiety, which is also the source of the excessive sweat on your brow. You cannot recall this courses class size, and you damn yourself for forgetting to check; not knowing if you can slip into the large class quietly or if everyone will be able to see you come in. This isn’t undergrad where people stumble in hungover with 10 minutes left of class, this is a graduate program where people go on to become masters in their fields of study. And you’re going to look like a fool in front of everyone. You approach the door to the classroom and can see through the window that it is, in fact, a small class. Fuck. There are maybe 15 people in there total. You hold your breath as you attempt to quietly push the door open, but it fails you with a loud, obnoxious creak. Every head snaps towards you, including the teacher, and you offer a meek smile to your classmates and turn your head towards the professor to issue a brief apology. You swallow hard when your eyes land on him. his tall frame is leaning against the white board, a little scary looking with muscles that bulge against his crossed arms, peaking out from under his rolled up sleeves. You’re surprised they’re visible even through his plaid button-up. His hair is fluffy, dark, as well as his beard…or actually, you should say mutton-chops, as that would be a more accurate descriptor. He glares at you, and you swear you’ve held his gaze for hours, but realistically it’s only been no more than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” you offer timidly.

The professor nods lightly, his jaw tense, and waves you off as he continues addressing the class. You attempt to quietly maneuver to an empty seat in the back, trying your hardest to not trip over your classmate’s bags and chairs. You feel like it takes forever to get to your seat, hoping no one pays too much attention to how clumsily you scoot past the chairs and over obstacles. You try and settle as quietly as possible, unzipping your shoulder bag and retrieving a pen to take notes. He’s still going over the syllabus, thank god.

“The only homework you’ll have is an essay, every week—every Friday—you have an essay due. Then every 3 weeks you’ll have an exam,” he instructs, rather nonchalantly. “And while I don’t give a shit if you waste your money and don’t come to class,” his eyes suddenly are fixed onto you, you swallow a lump of anxiety lodged in your throat as he continues, “The school cares a helluva lot more so, if you don’t mark your name down on the attendance sheet, you forget, you’re late, or whatever the hell, you’ll be absent. I’m not going back in and fixing shit.”

Noted. He turns his gaze back to the rest of the class and continues talking about the curriculum for the rest of the semester. you try to keep your head down as you scribble notes into your notebook, trying to look busy, when in reality you want to kick yourself in the face. You left your apartment too late, you didn’t anticipate the amount of traffic on the interstate, and you conveniently forgot how terrible parking is on college campuses. You look up to see the professor checking his wristwatch with a furrowed brow, like he’s considering something.

“Alright, that’s all i’ve got today, get out,” he commands, his gravelly voice showing slight indignation.

There’s a general look of confusion around the room at his abrupt dismissal with 45 minutes left of class. As people begin to shove their belongings in bags, you quickly get the memo as you collect your notebook and pen in your hands and stand up, ready to depart from this nightmare as soon as possible. But you’re the last in your row, shoved into a corner. the line of people in front of you have their chairs pushed back to the wall as they slowly collect themselves. It takes an obnoxiously long time for you to get out from behind the the long row of desks, even longer to leave the class as everyone shoves their way past you and out the door. Finally, you find an opening, but before your foot can even reach the threshold, there’s a strong grip on your arm. You turn your head to meet the gaze of your professor. Your heart skips a beat as he maintains eye contact briefly, before he hands you a piece of paper and lets go of your arm.

“Find your name, mark it,” he directs, causing you to scramble for the pen in your hands as you scan the paper for your name.

You try and offer a polite smile to the professor, but he remains stoic and unamused, making you feel even more uncomfortable. Once you find your name, you ungracefully set the paper against your flimsy notebook for structure, and scrawl a shaky check mark next to your name. You offer the paper back to him.

“Here, thank you, um, professor…” you trail off awkwardly, forgetting that you never actually checked what his name was. He takes the attendance sheet from you.

“Logan,” he answers.

“Ah, thank you professor Logan—”

“No,” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “just Logan.”

“Logan, right. thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his tone far from indicating the typical politeness of the statement, and rather literally cautioning you to never bring up this act of kindness again. And with that you turn to leave the class, unsure of why this gruff, sturdy, serious professor bended his own personal rules just for you. But no matter with that, you at least know you’ll never be late to his damn class again.

***

You pull into the driveway of your house with a sigh. It's late, the time you prefer to get home, so you can fully relax and use your powers in peace. Despite living in the middle of nowhere, you still fear someone will mistakenly pull into your driveway and catch you flying into your second story window or creating an apple from nothing. The lack of sound, except that of the chirping crickets and cicadas, puts you at ease. You release the tension in your shoulders and float off of the ground, propelling yourself to the patio on the second story of your house. You unlock the door with a flick of your wrist, the fuchsia energy encasing the doorknob and letting you into your bedroom, you then toss your things down onto the floor. An exhausted groan escapes your lips as you face plant onto your cool, soft bed. Not even coming up for air when you fling your arm up and slam the door shut with a pink, crystalline whoosh. You turn over to face the ceiling, your eyes fluttering shut within the comfort of your bed. Longing to get out of your stuffy jeans and bra, you trail your hands over your body and watch as your clothes dissipate into a pink flash while you manifest some boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt. Finally comfortable, you slide under the covers, wanting to sleep off one of the most stressful days you've had in a while. A morning full of classes, then 5 hours interning at the museum, before finally finishing off your day at the convenience store down the road working a 6 hour shift. While you can create most anything you want with your powers, you cannot create the full nights sleep that you most desperately need right now. 

As you drift, you think about how embarrassing of a morning you had. Stumbling into class like a fawn learning how to walk, Logan directly looking at you when speaking about attendance, Logan shoving the attendance sheet in your face so you mark yourself as present, Logan's strong arms and the way they looked with his sleeves rolled up. Logan's fluffy, dark hair and--No. Shut up. Don't think about that, he's your professor for god's sake. And, more importantly, an asshole. No amount of muscle or sheer sexiness will distract from that fact. You repeat this fact to yourself as you doze off, not wanting to give in to immature thoughts of attraction. Despite falling asleep to the negation of that attraction, your subconscious drifts somewhere you know you shouldn't physically go.

You're in Logan's office, your ass perched on the edge of his desk. Logan's back is to you, locking his door and drawing the blinds. He turns to you, his stance almost primal and animal-like, like he can't wait for the chance to devour you. The thought of that causes your arousal to swirl deep in your stomach. Logan saunters towards you, bearing his lower teeth like a predator ready to take their prey. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he gets closer, causing you to spread your legs, hoping the clear view of what lies beneath your skirt will draw him in closer. It seemingly works as he closes the distance between you two, his waist now flush against your lower stomach. Tingles shoot down your spine at the sudden contact, blood rushing down to your pussy. He pants as he brings his hands to your waist and strokes up and down the sides of your body, then achingly slow up your neck, then finally stopping at your chin. One hand creeps to the nape of your neck where he lays his palm flat while the other pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating that he's close to having his way with you. He holds you there for a beat, his face so tantalizingly close to yours that you can feel his breath against your skin. You whine gently when his lips teasingly graze your own. The fingers pinching your chin adjust slightly to grip your jaw instead, allowing him better control to tilt your head up towards him. His other hand, at the nape of your neck, travels upward allowing his fingers to gently rake through your hair until he roughly takes a fistful and tugs. A soft moan escapes your throat and you try to satiate the throbbing pressure between your legs by rubbing your thighs together. An amused huff leaves Logan's lips as he looks down at your squirming figure beneath him.

"You gonna be good for me, princess?" he asks in a low, gruff tone as the hand on your chin trails down the side of your neck before landing on your breast. He massages the flesh fervently, finding it harder to hide his own desperate arousal and need from you. You moan into his touch and arch your back into him, your pussy searching for more friction that Logan is expertly avoiding giving you by not allowing his pelvis to meet yours.

"Logan," you gasp.

"C'mon, baby," his voice soothes, like smooth velvet, "tell me you want it."

"I want it," you whisper, desperately seeking any sort of release.

"Good girl."

And with that, Logan removes the hand on your breast so he can aggressively hook an arm under your ass and easily hoist you up with one fell swoop. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, reveling the feel of his palm that covers your asscheek. With a growl Logan spins you around and throws you onto the couch in the corner of his office, barely allowing you a second to recover when he crawls on top of you and captures your lips with his own desperately. The kiss is aggressive and needy, tongues dancing together ungracefully, teeth clashing, hasty lip bites between kisses. His hips grind against yours roughly, causing you to hook both your feet around his ass to keep him there for as long as you can, desperately seeking more friction. His hands alternate with each other between grasping your breasts to gripping your face passionately. Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his arms under you and drives you further up the couch so your upper back lays against the armrest. You whine when his lips leave yours, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as his lips travel down your neck, chest, the stomach he exposes by lifting the hem of your shirt, biting the fabric at the waistband of your skirt. You squirm underneath him, anticipating what's gonna happen next as his face nestles between your legs. He licks, bites, sucks, and kisses the skin of your inner thighs, causing you to gasp with each harsh move of his mouth, before promptly melting into a moan when he alleviates his biting or sucking with a kiss or flick of his tongue. Your clit is throbbing, your pussy aching for him to get closer to your center. So he does. His tongue dances along the edge of your panties, not dipping much further into the fabric, his head alternating between each of your lips. You whine desperately as Logan's mouth hovers above your core, his hot breath teasing you further. He looks up at you and into your eyes as his mouth latches onto your thinly clothed pussy, causing you to squirm and moan underneath him, the already damp fabric from your arousal, getting further soaked from Logan's saliva.

"Logan," you whine fervently. "Please."

His mouth leaves your pussy, just barely hovering above it now.

"I gotta make you want it, princess, it's no fun unless you're begging for me to taste you," he breathed against your pussy, his voice low and syrupy. He quickly resumes the hold his mouth had on your pussy, making your back arch off the couch with a moan.

"Okay, I'm officially begging, please, Logan, please," you whimper, not sure how much longer you're able to take his teasing.

"Atta girl," he rasps against your pussy. Like nothing, his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and he rips it off of you with an experienced strength, leaving your pussy now exposed to Logan, and your torn lace panties on the floor.

"So wet for me, huh?" Logan teases through a cocky smile. You squirm more underneath him, causing his hands to move to your hips to hold them down. Logan stares hungrily at your cunt, removing one hand from your hip and bringing it to your pussy lips to rub it tantalizingly slow with his fingers. Flicking his eyes up to meet yours, he finally brings his tongue to your folds and licks up to your clit. You moan throatily and bring your hands to his hair to give it a tug of appreciation. He groans enthusiastically into your pussy, eating at it like your core is the forbidden fruit dripping in molten pleasure. He's animalistic in his movements and noises, lapping at your clit with groans and grunts in pleasure, almost growling even. He brings his fingers to your core, tracing the hole before shoving two digits inside of you. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them with each push inside. The noises are lewd and wet with each drive of his fingers. Your moans grow more desperate and needy as you climb towards your climax, the death grip you have on his hair growing stronger and stronger. The hand holding your hip down crawls up to your breast, grasping desperately at your flesh, hastily circling your nipples with his thumb. Your breaths quicken, your eyes flutter shut as he continues the steady onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

"Logan, I'm so close, don't stop...please..." you trail off, beginning to lose yourself in your pleasure. Logan responds with needy moans against your clit and the continuous pumping of his fingers in and out of you. His grip on your breast loosens to grasp your side, slinking down to your waist, definitely leaving a mark with how rough he grabs at you. As his lips and tongue continue lapping you up, you can feel your arousal swirling in your stomach more and more. Your moans grow louder, your hips begin bucking. Logan groans into you, desperate to feel your release around his fingers. White hot pressure forms around your clit as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, you look down at Logan and lock eyes with him just as you feel yourself dropping off.

The feeling of hot pink fire pricking your eyeballs jerks you awake, mid-orgasm, your eyes glow a pulsating fuchsia. You pant heavily, your orgasm ending unceremoniously against your fingertips. Leaving you disappointed. You huff in annoyance, wishing you could plunge yourself back into the wet dream that ended in a rather mediocre way. No, wait, that was your professor. You shouldn't be feeling, or thinking, this way at all. You feel disappointed in yourself for having such lewd thoughts about another person, especially a person of authority. You catch your breath, turn your head to face the clock on your nightstand and gasp when you see the time.

"Shit, shit, shit," you curse, hastily throwing yourself out of bed. "Please don't be late today."

(A/N): and that's that!! i hope people enjoy! this concept popped into my head earlier today so i've spent my sunday working on this, if people are interested to see where this goes, please leave a kudos or comment!!! TYYY🫶🏻🙈 i also posted this onto my ao3 here if you would like to view it there and keep up with it there as well!

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #45 | 12.02.24 ๋࣭⭑

well, this is more like a half devlog if i'm being honest

Hi everyone! Man, it's been a while since we last talked, huh? Somehow my last devlog to you all was end of August, and now we're all the way in December. It's crazy to know I was in my cave for that long LMFALSIDJF

I don't usually do devlogs starting the last two months of the year---usually because I end up getting busy, and with it being the holidays, I just give myself the devlog off as my one little "holiday treat."

This year, it's a bit different since I haven't given you all a devlog in quite a while. I have exciting and boring news to share with you all this month! First off for exciting news, as I'm sure you've all heard....

I'M A DOCTOR!!!!!!

That's RIGHT. The step away from Alaris was everything I needed to be able to crunch my dissertation and graduate this semester. To say it was painful would be a complete understatement. For context, people usually spend about 1 year writing and defending their dissertation. Since I last spoke to you all, I ended up analyzing, writing, and defending my entire dissertation in the span of about 2-3 months. Basically every moment that I existed as a living being was spent working on my dissertation (if I wasn't working), and even a month after I defended I'm in disbelief that I was able to pull it off.

But here I stand before you all, finally free from the confines of academia after a grueling 4 years.

I have worked on Alaris the entire time I've been in PhD school, and so there's literally no one here who knows me outside of being a PhD student. So it's crazy to enter a new chapter of game dev where I no longer have to balance work, PhD school, and Alaris. And instead, I can be a normal person that just balances work and game dev.

That being said...

I know I had told you all I would be back in the Alaris grind in November since that would be around the time when my defense would be. And while I've literally tried my damnedest to get back on the game dev horse, it's been a Fckn Struggle, everyone.

I don't think I realized how hard I was working myself until this past month rolled around and I entered recovery mode. Admittedly, I actually think I was working myself harder when I was balancing Alaris with work and PhD stuff than when I was crunching a 1 year dissertation project into 2 months. And this might not be a new revelation to some people---even earlier this year, I remember getting comments of like "wow, you're working so fast/hard!" "omg how are you getting all this done?" "you need to be nicer to yourself, i don't think you realize how much work you actually do" etc. etc.

But I think because I enjoy game dev so much, I didn't see it as working myself hard. Now, though, after getting some clarity and seeing how much that was affecting my physically, I really want to make it a point to take care of myself better and not push myself too hard (life is too short and healthcare is too expensive LMALSDF).

So, while this isn't me saying Alaris is going on hiatus or anything scary like that, I do hope you all can extend a bit more of your patience and understanding at least until the end of this year for me to get back into the swing of things. I have genuinely been thinking about Alaris a lot---the script and scenes I want to write, CGs I want to draw, etc. But I just haven't had the physical energy to do it.

I'm hoping writing this devlog will help me get back into the swing of things this month. But I do want to be transparent that the holiday season tends to get busy for me, so I don't want to make promises of working on Alaris at any kind of full capacity.

Luckily, a lot of Alaris is done. If you all remember, the only route that needs to be written at this point is Aisa's. And half of the routes have been programmed! While Etza and Kuna'a's routes do need to be cleaned up and edited, a lot of the foundational work, which is most time-consuming for me is done. So I do still hope to get Alaris to you all (at least the Central routes) in early 2025!

Thank you all as always for being patient and understanding. As I get back on the Alaris horse, I also hope to get back into answering your messages <3 Hope you all are staying warm and having a restful holiday season.

[the-moon-files]

YESSSSS I BEG GET INTO THE CULTURAL DIDFERENCES BETWEEN HYLIANS AND HUMANS 🙏🙏

...now ur just sweet talking me 🥰 /lh

Not years, well maybe 1 year-

but i have wanted to ramble desperately to smone, even the tumblr void if i had to, abt humans vs. hylians so much, esp with a guide reader or male reader bc whatdya know im into niche stuff that only u and like 2 other ppl like lmao ¯\(ツ)/¯

Anyway im so shocked, since ur like the third person to be interested in this and wanna hear abt it 🥺 🤲💌 here u go!! Hope u like it <333 👉👈

Sun: Masc!Reader (he/him)

Orbit: Humans are Not Hylians/Humans are Space Orcs AU, Headcanons-ish, long overall but each section is kinda short

Stars: Mostly worldbuilding! you've been warned, don't get mad me for not talking abt the boys too much✌️

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of private area/joke in the clothing headcanons, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

just some quick headcanons bc tbh i haven't given it too much thought, and i feel like I've been able to somewhat get into it in other posts? or maybe im thinking of stuff i have in my drafts idk-

Imma make another list, so buckle up for the short ride lol

Courting periods/dating/marriage

individual/small groups society-based hylians v. large personal groups/large community society-based humans

simpler foods hylians v. complex food humans

clothing modesty/style/relationships with fashion

fighting styles/strategies

entertainment complexity/differences

and language

☆

1st one, not much yet, im also making a separate post bc someone else asked me to talk abt that more 🥺

(tysm for all the enthusiastic asks guys <33)

anyway, basically hylian courting is a lot shorter, think “lesbians with the uhaul” type of energy, like sort of the classical medieval “does thee wish to pursue marriage with this one?” ← how hylians ask u out for the first time lmao

if it helps, they do tend to get to know one another well, talking about morals/kids/life goals/preferred lifestyle/house/etc. pretty clearly and quickly, then using the in between time to sort of stew on that information

id say the total time is sort of something like 6 months? maybe 3/4 if they're really compatible

(so bc i love interpreting video game logic for real world building, I actually blame this on how fast Zelda/link get together in games despite having sometimes never met before that moment lol)

like i said, ill be posting about this later

2nd one!!

pretty basic, just saying we don't really see hylians in big groups, despite the organizations they form, like kingdoms/knights or on a more personal level, towns/families/etc.

(once again, in-game appearances/video game logic translated to real life to draw these conclusions)

like not only are family units pretty small, like nuclear family setup, with like 2 parents and 2 kids, or single parent 1 kid type of situation, but the towns or collections of these families arent very big either

hylians kind of use their government the way it was intended lmao?

like the villages and towns matter more for everyday decisions than the kingdom/royalty, like Zelda would esstientally just be the mayor of Castle Town for those constant decisions,

while occasionally is called on to make decisions like for several towns or like is a natural disaster happens

meanwhile humans are, in comparison, in Way Bigger groups, both on an organization scale, and a personal scale

like u have all these specific branches of government, whereas im sure the population difference doesn't help,

and on a personal level, humans can easily have like multiple parents, lots of siblings, and once u combine that with each parent having family too, and those families like to meet up? All together??

yeah, itd look insane to any hylians (who’s smaller extended family may just make up their own village and that's it)

3. I've touched on this

like the use of spices, syrups, seasonings, etc

but also the complexity of dishes too, like chilling cream and mixing it for awhile to make ice cream, or even just getting ordering a pizza,

that's a lot of processing, like making the dough from flour and other ingredients, to letting it rise, to making the tomato paste, making cheese, then combining those things with any other toppings, all into one dish??

i like to think that hylians have only just started to touch on actual complicated cooking processes (as in BOTW, where they sell flour and salt, so people besides Link/Wild must know what to do with it)

this has the advantage of impressing any hylian with what a “creative genius” you are lol

4. look im just a fan of medieval time periods Links

so i think its funny if the hylians are used to like 4/3 layers and ur over here like, “wym, if i take off my shirt there's nothing underneath?”

one of them gets bold enough to ask, “d-do you not. do you not have undergarments??”

you “just my boxers? like just to cover my di-”

also this makes its easy to seduce people here? LMAO

clothes are def higher quality, after all there's not as many artificial processes or materials interfering,

plus u usually get some sick embroidery on it too!!

5. so like i get it, Link is the main fighter in games

but like, the few times there is a war/army in loz games, there's rlly not a lot of strategy, beyond just finding the enemy and fighting

tho im partial to that hylians/most inhabitants of Hyrule abide by the “lets meet up either literally by inviting each other or just between our territories to fight”

with occasional guerilla warfare (by any means necessary/stealth/ambush attacks/strategy) that's only rlly used either by Demise/Ganon, or by the wilder individuals/races in games

or maybe even the more civilized fighters in an emergency

and so that means by this logic that all of the Chain use kind of wild techniques compared to their race/kingdom lmao

id imagine its not too surprising to also see “every fight is a bar fight if its for my life” from individual travelers, so im sure they're not viewed too crazy (esp when ppl know their the hero that constantly has to deal with guerilla warfare from Ganon)

but its be hilarious to watch the reactions of both the Links realizing they’re in a bigger group that should be using “proper” fighting strategies and seeing the general publics reaction to this absolutely feral, armed to the teeth, trained hylians with their equally wild human lol

LMAO everyone thinks ur the reason they started using the more brutal fighting methods bc ur human, ur a bad influence lol

(humans would use it primarily, esp after we converted to use that method in warfare a couple hundred years ago i think?)

changing course a bit, hylians tend to use weapons (to compensate for difference in strength compared to humans, and since they don't experience/get a lesser version of adrenaline)

while humans tend to equally rely on weapons and our body as a weapon (marital arts/basic self-defense)

6. this is mostly bc the hylians only rlly seem to have the basics of music, books/stories, theater, and art

i have, surprise surprise, another post abt how i think this came to be,

mostly based on how human curiosity is indomitable and insatiable and the endless force that has not yet met its immovable object.

or at least an immovable object they haven't at least poked a little, out of curiosity lol

like we went to space for that reason, we reach the most dangerous corners of our planet (deep underwater/volcanoes) out of sheer curiousity/for the sake of simple knowledge of the thing

so needless to say, curiosity can absolutely drive any field to its limits, including the arts, which is why we can have stained glass, or movies/tv shows, hell, the marvel that is Hatsune Miku lmao

(fully for entertainment, a projection of light and sound, what is essentially magical illusions but u did it hte hard way, to the hylians)

on a different entertainment related note, i don't know if the hylians would be super into sports, or not really at all? mostly bc they have to use their fighting/training against real threats, not the sort of “fake” threats that sports are

but on the other hand i could see people like knights wanting to use their abilities for something other than violence and fighting bc their life or their villages lives depended on it

bet the Links would enjoy it for those reasons especially, what with at least sumo wrestling being a sport or activity for them at some point in history, and practically beg u for any new games to play, or to ref their games, bc whewwww

im sure they could get pretty competitive lol

7. obviously, their mostly influenced by the Japanese language

id almost like to imagine a sort of, if not outright Japanese (like with earlier heroes like Sky) then a sort of English-Japanese hybrid further along the line

sort of like how English has German/Greek/Latin roots and therefore u can see what words or structure comes from where, or even how u can understand a fair amount of basic words when other languages share the same roots (english, pants = spanish, pantalones)

would make for some funny miscommunications

or even better, most hylians liking ur unique accent or the Links love to hear u talk bc of it lol

☆

well the fever has broken, i am now free of the sickness that made me hack this up geez

i hope u got some enjoyment out of these my beloved anon!! esp since u were so nice as to ask abt it <33

hope u guys have a great weekend, look out for some more posts, bc its been great to get some more asks in lately and very motivating,

not to mention i actually have time to write now that my siblings graduated/we’ve moved several states over 💀

so i have reliable internet now too! sheesh :’)

Peace out,

🌙

[waldau-archived]

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunrise he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[fangirlfrom-hell]

"My daddy has to fight some bad guys". || Jay Halstead x reader and daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

You woke up earlier than everybody in your house to get everything ready for everyone. Jay would usually follow you a few minutes later and you two would make breakfast and get your daughter ready for school together, along with other morning stuff. This wasn't the day, your husband had fallen asleep and you were doing everything by yourself, trying not to make a lot of noise. You knew he was working a tough case and had come back quite late from work the night before, so you didn't want to wake him up. Even when he didn't want to admit it, he was tired as hell and needed to rest.

You were in the kitchen starting to cook breakfast when you felt his arms hugging you from the back.

-"Did I wake you up?" You asked. -"I was trying not to".

-"I didn't feel you by my side and I couldn't fall asleep again". He answered into your ear and then kissed your neck as he continued talking. -"I'm sorry I haven't been around. We closed this case last night, what's left is a bunch of paperwork. My hope is to be back home early tonight and...". You turned around to hug him back and interrupted him with a short kiss. He rushed to finish his sentence with a heavy breathing : "...I can make it up for you", then proceeded to tenderly kiss your lips as he held you as tight as he could with one of his arms, while fervently holding your head with his other hand, finger all tangled in your hair, pulling it a bit.

Due to the case Jay was working on, you two had barely seen each other during the last week and a half, so things were heating up fast. Suddenly, for both of your displeasure, an alarm interrupted the moment.

-"Time to wake her up". You said having trouble separating from him.

-"I'll go". Jay took your phone to turn off the alarm. -"I'm driving her to school too".

-"Hey, Jay!" You took his hand before letting him leave the room. -"You do remember her Father's Day Festival, right?".

-"Next friday, 10:30, sure".

-"I was thinking...maybe you should talk to her and explain that...of course you will be there, but if you are not able to make it is due to your work".

-"But I will be there".

-"I know, I know, it's just...we never know when a case might pop up. Remember the Spring Festival?".

-"Oh. The bank robbery right before it...".

-"Yes, that's what I mean. That time was easy because I was there, but this time I won't...".

-"I will talk to her". He said after a few seconds of silence. -"But I'll be there, no matter what".

That day, Tessa and her class made a craft for their fathers. All the little kids were drawing in a small paper square that would become a keychain for Father's Day. Some of them were drawing hearts, others were doing stick figures. Tessa drew her dad carrying her over his shoulders and a bunch of hearts around. Her artwork was a little abstract, but understandable for a 5 year old.

-"All right". Ms. Luna said in a sweet voice. Tessa really loved her teacher. -"I am going to take your drawings and we will give them back to our dads as a key chain during the festival!".

-"My daddy said he will come, but he's working and if he doesn't show up it is because he has to fight some bad guys. Bad guys don't respect days or time". Tessa rushed to repeat what Jay tried to explain to her earlier in the morning when he was taking her to school.

-"It's ok". Her teacher laughed a bit. -"Sometimes parents can't make it and it's ok. That doesn't mean they don't want to or that they don't love us".

The class rehearsed the song they would sing at intervals throughout the rest of the day. Tessa never missed the opportunity to repeat the information going around her head: "My dad said he's coming, but if he's not here it means he's working" or "My daddy is fighting the bad guys and bad guys they don't respect days or time" or "He will be here, but if he's not here, that means he's on the streets. He makes Chicago safe". Her friends were amazed whenever she repeated those statements. She did understand what her father told her, but she didn't really comprehend.

The day was here. You dropped Tessa at school, she was all excited. Before she entered the building you reminded her: "If it happens that daddy is not here or he's late, remember he's fighting the bad guys".

Jay was already in the bullpen, everything was strangely calmed. He had talked with Voight about going out to Tessa's school and he gladly agreed.

-"Today is the day isn't it?" Hailey asked Jay as she entered the coffee room.

-"Yeah". He smirked. -"If nothing else intervenes".

-"Let's stay positive". She said remembering what had happened last Spring Festival.

It was 8:30, the day had just started when Trudy came upstairs with an urgent case.

-"That's just my luck". Jay said, rushing downstairs with his partner.

-"Let's try to make it quick". Hailey answered by putting on her coat.

At school, the kids were getting ready to go outside to start the festival. Parents were gathering outside of the building, waiting to get inside.

Students from all schools were lining up around the court. Their parents were supposed to meet them and be in front of their kid's group to hear them sing.

-"Is your dad here?" One of Tessa's friends asked.

-"I can't see him". She answered standing on tiptoe. -"But it's ok, it's because he had to fight the bad guys".

All the kids waved their fathers with excitement, some of them ran to hug them before starting the show. Jay didn't make it, but Tessa wasn't feeling bad about it...yet.

When the song finished, all the kids jumped into their fathers arms and gave them the craft they made in class as a gift for them. Tessa stood in her place, not being able to hold her tears. She was crying in silence, so between the noise and excitement around the little girl, nobody noticed her until a few minutes later. As soon as her teacher saw her, she ran towards her and hugged her tight.

-"It's ok, honey. It's ok. Your dad wanted to be here with you". She said in a very sweet and calmed voice. -"Remember he is fighting the bad guys, you said that before ''.

Some parents were moved watching the scene, but there was nothing they could do. Ms. Johnson, the school's principal, noticed the situation from afar and she joined as soon as she could. By only moving her lips, trying not to be heard, she asked Tessa's teacher if the little girl's father wasn't there. She shaked her head in disapproval when the teacher answered with a sorry face.

-"We can call your dad, Tess. That way you can hear his voice".

-"But, Ms. Johnson, he's fighting the bad guys". Ms. Luna intervened.

-"Oh!" She understood. -"Ok, but we can call him later, we'll tell him to come so you can give him your present. Would you like that?".

The little girl was an emotional mess, but agreed with her head, even though she wasn't really listening to what the adults were saying.

The emergency call for the intelligence team ended up in a shooting and that delayed detective Halstead. As soon as he finished with interviews and all the bureaucracy after this kind of situation, he ran off.

-"Go, go, go". Hailey rushed. -"I cover you".

Jay drove his truck as fast as he could, siren on. It wasn't a police emergency, but it was an emergency after all, he could deal with the consequences later. He parked in the first spot he found, even if it wasn't merely in front of the school and ran as fast as he could in a police mode to get to his baby girl. It was until he entered the building that he noticed he was still wearing the vest, gun and badge on his hip, but didn't care.

-"There he is!" Ms. Johnson pointed to Tessa's father.

-"Come on! Come on!" Ms. Luna took the little girl's hand and started running towards her dad.

-"I'm so sorry". Jay took Tessa in his arms and carried her holding her as tight as he could. She was too emotionally drained to react.

Kids around were already saying goodbye to their parents, going back to their classrooms.

-"We'll give you some time alone". Ms. Johnson informed Jay and he muttered a "thank you".

-"You can go back to the classroom when you feel ready". Ms. Luna told her student.

-"I hate the bad guys". Tessa managed to say when they were finally alone.

-"Me too". Her father said. -"I'm really, really sorry I didn't hear you sing, but I'm here right now". He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

-"I did it real good, you missed it". She said playing with the key chain in her hands.

-"I bet you did". Jay chuckled. -"What do you have there?".

-"It's a present for you. I made it for you". She extended her short arm to give it to her dad.

-"For me? Is it for my keys? I love it!"

-"It's you and me and lots of hearts. I drew it myself".

-"I can see that. It's beautiful. Thank you, sweetie". Jay's phone started ringing and he sighed when he read the text messages.

-"I have to go back to work".

-"But I don't want you to go". She started crying again.

Ms. Johnson came into the scene to help Tessa go back to her class" -"Daddy has to go back to work, sweetie. Ms. Luna and your friends are waiting for you, let's go". And she took her tenderly in her arms as her crying grew louder.

-"It's all right". Jay reassured her with a kiss. -"I love you. I'll see you at home, ok?". And she disappeared through the door.

He peeked through the classroom window to check on her before departing. He witnessed how Ms. Luna was successfully calming her down and felt a little bit more relaxed to go.

-"Thank you for coming". Ms. Johnson told him with a smile. -"For real".

With a heavy heart, he got into his truck and before turning it on, he hung the keychain in his keys. He inspected the tiny drawing and smiled before going back to the bullpen.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a ♡, comment or share. 😌♡

[del-thetiredwriter]

Mafia au/ Good Luck while running away from the mafia part 1

Intro , part 0.5 , part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5

Notes: Guess what I’m back . To be honest I didn’t quite like it but anyway I’m posting it and I can’t write fight scenes (￣▽￣;). It’s so exhausting.

Tags: @loivre , @randomlyappearingartist , @serenity-loves-red , @hasty-desert , @moonlight-nightwing , @hrhqueenfox , @oceanside-pixie

Warning: cursing, fighting, blood, shooting, Yandere stuff…

“Riddle-san, what are you doing, sir?”

At the question, Riddle briefly lifted his eyes from the documents and looked at you.

“I was just wondering about a thing.” He replied.

You looked around at the files arranged in order. All of them had one thing in common: betrayal, crime, wrong, etc. against the organizations punishments .

“I was really curious about what caught Riddle-san's attention. What could possibly make you go through even the files from the old manager Trein-sensei's time?"

Riddle smiled.

"Don't worry, you'll find out soon." said Riddle.

You were suddenly startled by the sound of footsteps. Apparently you fell asleep. You're not normally someone who sleeps a lot, but for the past two weeks you haven't been able to sleep properly.

After leaving the organization or rather escaping, you temporarily settled in a remote coastal city where you hoped they'd find you a little late. With a little help, you changed your identity, your phone line, everything. You've removed everything that indicates Y/n L/n.

Life here was calmer compared to your old life. You wished you could stay here forever. But you knew they would find you eventually. You lived ,one night in your sleep afraid that they would find you at your most vulnerable moment.

You were currently working in a cafe. Although it may seem a little illogical, working at the cafe, which was open until midnight, was actually a little better for you. The more people around you, the easier it is to avoid them.

"Yo!" You turned the way you came. Your colleague Alex was glaring at you with his arms folded.

“Yuu, what are you doing in the camera room again, are you skipping work again?”

'Yuu' is your new identity that you created to make it harder for them to find you while running away. You still had a hard time getting used to the name.

“No, Alex. I just- "

"Anyway, I'm going downstairs. You have the upstairs okay?"

You nodded and Alex left the room. You looked at the clock, it was 10:00 pm. You stretched yourself and yawned. Two more hours until the end of the shift.

As you were about to get up, your eyes were caught by the cameras. Your eyes widened in panic at what you saw. You watched three people enter the cafe. You'll recognize those red hair, those grins, those faces wherever you see them. Heartslabyul found you. No, they all found you. You clenched your teeth, your time was limited.

The reason you spent most of your time in the camera room was because you could see everything from here. You quickly grabbed your gun from the locked drawer and loaded it. Deuce and Cater took a table downstairs near the front exit. Ace was walking up the stairs.

You took a deep breath. You should have thought fast. You should have gotten out of here . But for that you had to go down the stairs first.

You went behind the door and waited. You waited for Ace to find you.

Look at the cameras. It was approaching. You gripped your gun tightly. And the door opened. You punched the poor boy in the face as the door opened.

“Agh-“ A bitter moan broke out from Ace.

Before he could draw his gun, you kicked him in the stomach and dropped it to the ground.

“Agh- it's been a long time and the first thing you do when you see me is attack me? Really Y/n.” Ace grinned . Clutching his nose, which was bleeding from your punch.

You muttered, "Bastard."

“Come on Y/n didn't you miss me? I missed you so much." He tried to punch you, but you avoided him. You both started to struggle. Ace might have been strong, but you were more experienced and stronger than him. You grabbed him by the head and knocked him to the ground. Before he could regain his balance, you took his tie and tied him with it.

“What am I going to miss about you, you sadistic bastard!”

You picked up the gun on the ground.

“What? Are you going to shoot me ?” Ace said in a tone you didn't like.

“You have to stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

At 11:00 pm, screams broke out in a cafe with the sound of 'bang' gunfire. Everyone in the cafe began to flee desperately, except for two people. The two men, one with red hair and the other with black hair, started to make their way to the upper floor of the cafe.

“Do you think who shot whom, hmm~” Cater asked the younger one.

As the two of them went upstairs, the power went out suddenly and the whole cafe was plunged into darkness.

“Looks like Y/n-chan won.” said Cater to himself.

“Let's separate . You stay here, Y/n has to use the stairs before they can get out of the cafe.” Cater instructed.

“Okay, sir.” said Deuce.

You held your breath under the table. You waited for Cater's footsteps to go away. You were the one who cut the electricity. Five minutes later the generator would start working . You should have gotten out of here by then. Finally, making sure that Cater was far enough away, you slowly came out from under the table. No matter how hard you tried not to make a sound, Deuce heard you.

“Y/n? Is this you ?"

Now that his eyes were accustomed to the dark, he could barely make out your silhouette. Everything happened so abruptly. You took a chair and hit Deuce with it. While he was stunned by the blow, you ran downstairs with your names and the electricity came back. Your five minutes were up.

When the lights were turned on, an unexpected sight was in front of you.

Riddle was sitting at a table eating strawberry pie as if nothing had happened.

“Ah, Y/n you finally came down. I was getting really bored waiting for you.” He said while taking a slice of the pie.

You pointed your gun at him. "Get out of my way if you don't-"

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Y/n, but will you put that gun down?" A familiar voice said as you turned around and saw Trey pointing his gun at you. As always, even in this state, he was smiling gently at you.

“Tch. What do you want ? Why are you here?" You asked questions that you know very well the answer to.

Riddle smiled.

“Y/n L/n you are posing a great danger to the organization right now. You also have cases of injuring my men. You understand what I'm trying to say, right?"

"Get out of my way or I'll shoot you."

Riddle laughed.

“You won’t t kill me, you can't. Just like we can't do to you. Now if you drop that gun, I'll do my best to mitigate your sentence."

This was clearly a lie. You grit your teeth. You smiled calmly and did as he said. You slowly put your gun down and raised your hands in the air.

“Well done, here it is. I wish you would always listen to my words like this. Now let's go back." said Riddle.

“Sorry Riddle but I won't be back!” You said and detonated the smoke bomb you were hiding. The area was suddenly covered with fog. You quickly walked out the front door through that mess and got into your car.

“Get them quick!” Riddle shouted.

You quickly drove away. There was no turning back anymore. The Game has started.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Happy Birthday, little finch.

Gif credits

Pairing: Jackson!Joel X AFAB!reader

Words count: 6731

Rating: +18 NSFW, Minors please don’t interact

Summary: Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day.

Warnings: POV second person, smut, little power dynamic, little brat taming, begging, unprotected P in V (please, always use protections in real life!), Reader's age is intentionally unspecified, you can imagine an age gap between her and Joel or not, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), nipples play, Joel comes on reader's tits, just a little of pulling hair, soft!Joel, grumpy!Joel, pet names (little finch, honey, baby, babe), mention of fasting as a sarcastic joke (I don’t condone joking about no one’s eating habits), reader has hair (It is not specified how long they are or what they look like), reader can be lifted by big and strong Joel, reader has a able body, breasts and vagina and she wears a dress, apart from that no other description is given, reader is part of the Jackson community, I don't know anything about Jackson, I only know a few details about second game’s plot (including that detail, yes) so everything I describe is purely from my imagination and may have no bearing on the original Jackson, brief appearances by Maria, Tommy, Ellie and Dina, drinking, swearing, Joel calls reader “little finch” (I came up with this nickname just because my grandpa used to call me with a bird name when I was little and I always found it sweet, so here we go ❤️), Joel can draw (I don't know if it's true but for me it is, okay, allow me). I hope I haven't forgotten anything but if I do I'll add it as soon as I notice.

English is not my first language so please be kind, I always try to do my best, no proofreading (sorry), very little editing, I apologize for any mistakes. I'm writing on my phone, I hope the formatting isn't too bad 🥲

Thank you so much to anyone who will read this, I really hope you’ll like it, kind comments and advices are really appreciated ❤️

I've been listening to Hozier's "Talk" heavily while writing this so here it is, I'll let you know. It's such a beautiful song and I love Hozier so much 🫠

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

You wake up struck by a ray of sunlight that enters faintly through the half-closed shutters and dies right on your face.

You have no idea what time it is and your head feels heavy and confused, you turn over in bed thinking that maybe you can give yourself another 5 minutes but then you hear voices outside already awake and ringing and then you think that maybe it's really late. You sit up and retrieve the clock from the bedside table, it's 7 in the morning.

You get up and go to the kitchen to make some coffee and from the window you see some people already busy doing their work. Some children head towards the building designated as school in Jackson, happily laughing while they chase each others.

You yawn and open the cabinet in the kitchen where you keep the coffee filters, a precious supply recovered during an exploration that you jealously preserve.

The coffee is also the result of a find and therefore it was carefully rationed with the other members of the community.

You are grateful that it exists because this morning you really need it, last night you slept badly, continuing to toss in your sleep and always dreaming of the same thing again and again. You being swallowed up by a hole in the ground and no hand reaching out to help you. Just a great dream.

The coffee maker burbles a few minutes later, releasing the drink you crave.

Temperatures are milder in this season so you no longer need to put on a heavy jacket and snow boots, there is a bit of fresh wind but nothing compared to the harsh winter that has just passed.

Today in particular you feel like dressing better than usual, you go back to your room and open the wardrobe, carefully inspecting the few clothes hanging there.

You obviously don't have much choice because they're all salvaged second-hand clothes, but Maria gave you a nice pair of denim shorts a month ago and they look very nice on you.

You take it out of the closet and place it on the bed along with a white tank top that highlights your boobs just right, it’s nothing particularly fancy but it makes you feel good, you head towards the shower humming softly.

The shower helps you wake up, you dress and you leave the house feeling a bit better.

You meet a couple of people who greet you as you make your way to the library.

You enter, smelling the familiar smell of books and immediately get to work cleaning and dusting the shelves and the floor, like every day.

The morning passes peacefully, only a couple of people come in to borrow books, so after doing your chores you took the opportunity to rearrange thriller’s books section.

You're a bit shocked by the fact that no one told you anything particular but you don't mind, these people have a lot to think about and a lot to do.

When you leave it's lunch time, so you head to the common room.

The crisp air caresses your face and the sun gives you a little warmth that you missed so much, you really love this season in Jackson.

You enter the room filled with chatter that echoes off the walls. You take your place in line and once you have had your portion you sit at one of the tables.

No one reaches you yet. You're alone in a room full of people.

You see him in a corner, sitting with Maria and Tommy and you get lost for a while observing the way he moves his large hands, how his hair rests at the base of his neck, his big brown eyes, so communicative, the way his flannel shirt - which has practically become a distinctive trait of Joel - hug his muscles, the way his lower lip slightly twitch while he’s talking.

You’re totally captivated.

You can't help it and you know it.

Every time he spoke to you, even for just a few minutes, your body reacted unequivocally at his deep low raspy voice, his proximity always caused you trouble.

You like this man, much more than you are willing to admit.

Joel Miller.

You're friends, you might say. As much as it is possible to be friends with a man like him.

He's friendly, but always with an undertone of detachment that you can't define, as if he's afraid of letting himself go with someone and let his feelings flow freely.

And just as you're thinking this, he turns and looks at you for a moment.

You are sitting, yet your knees feel weak and you feel your cheeks redden knowing you've been caught.

You turn your eyes back to your lunch, quickly finishing your meal and bringing your tray back. You leave the common room feeling in a bubble.

It's stupid that he makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush but it always happens, by now you're resigned to always making a fool of yourself with him.

You walk home to do your household chores and then go to the patch of garden you've been assigned to take care of.

You meet various people along the way but again everyone just say hello, you see Ellie with Dina and they both wave at you and nothing more. In the meantime, Maria has left the common room and the only thing she asks you is how the courgettes you planted a month ago are coming along.

It's strange, but you shrug your shoulders and think that deep down today is not such a relevant day for others even if you hoped it would be because you now consider these people as your new family.

You stop thinking about it and focus on the things you have to do but a tiny piece of your heart hurts a little, just a little.

What the hell is wrong with people today? Only a month ago they throw a big party for Tommy and now nothing, not even a hint.

Okay, Tommy is higher rank, he is married to Maria, everyone sees him as a guide just as they see his partner.

And he goes on patrols, certainly offering others a greater sense of security and protection, unlike you who deal with less dangerous things.

That's probably why, you're just a minion in Jackson's pecking order.

You let off some steam by plowing your field with more force than necessary, small drops of sweat slide down your forehead and you end up hot and with your arms aching from the effort.

Stupid girl, stop thinking about it, it's not that important to have a birthday, not in a post apocalyptic world where everyone is struggling to get ahead.

But still, they acknowledged every single special day of everyone’s here before, except yours and nothing particularly relevant is happening, it’s been a couple of quiet weeks.

You're wiping sweat from your forehead with one hand when you hear a voice behind you.

"What are you doing tonight?" It's his voice, you'd recognize his among a thousand.

You turn around stuttering “uh, what?”

And there he is, flannel shirt, curls slightly blowing in the wind, mouth curved in a smirk, dark piercing eyes.

Fuck.

“I asked…what are you doing tonight?”

You feel the nervousness rising in your chest, it's the first time he's spoken to you in a week and you weren't ready in the slightest.

“Uh…oh…nothing special, I guess, I think I'll read a book and go to sleep early”

you say trying to maintain a certain apparent nonchalance.

“You didn't mention dinner, are you going to fast?” Oh, great. Sarcastic jokes, classic Miller behavior.

“No, of course not,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles “okay, so, would you like to come to my house? I cook”

Fuck. Is that, a date?

You instantly feel your mouth dry as you try to reply “Well, it’s not like I have something better to do so yes, why not”

You don't want to make it obvious to this man how he makes you feel. There are worse things to worry about in this world, but letting yourself go with someone who always shows restraint only to be rejected - on your birthday, no less - doesn't seem as pleasant.

And that's how you usually communicate anyway, bickering.

Maria often laughs about it, you are both stubborn and neither of you ever wants to agree with the other.

One day she told you that she thinks you'll end up together and you practically laughed in her face. Not because you don't want to, but because you thought Joel didn't even see you that way.

Maybe Maria was right all along, who knows.

“Good, see you at 7”

And he goes.

You watch him walk away for a while, still with spade in your hands.

Suddenly this day became interesting.

You run into the house and take off your dirty clothes throwing them in the basket you keep in the bathroom and go to the shower.

While you're soaping yourself up you wonder what came into his mind.

As you rub your hair, you think that maybe he's making fun of you but Joel doesn't seem like the type to make a prank, he's always quite sarcastic but not a proper prankster.

It's part of his charm, he always looks grumpy but you know he's not bad, the way he looks at Ellie or his brother says everything about him.

He would do anything for the people he loves.

And he’s not mean, he was kind to you too.

You've spent more time looking at him, analyzing every chat you had with him than you like to admit, so yeah, you're pretty sure he's okay.

Once you get out of the shower you open the wardrobe and find yourself contemplating the usual clothes with which you have to make the best of things.

There is a cute dress that you have never worn because you have never found a particular occasion. It's quite short and low-cut, definitely not suited to Jackson's lifestyle, here everyone wears jeans and sweaters or t-shirts.

You think that maybe tonight is the time to dare even if you don't want him to burst out laughing and ask you what you've got in your head.

It's just a dinner.

He never mentioned anything romantic.

You're obviously nervous, because you like him and if it doesn't go well you should continue to see him every day anyway.

In the end you decide to wear the dress anyway but to tone it down with a cardigan and a pair of boots, so as to make it look less like "please fuck me" style.

You shake your head, how much trouble are you going to for Joel Miller.

However, you have to admit that it's the first really exciting thing that's happened to you since you've been here. You thought that surviving was enough so you obviously never complained about it.

You fix your hair after drying it, you look at yourself in the mirror and you think that you're not that bad after all.

It's almost time, you leave the house and walk the few meters that separate you from Joel's house with your heart beating wildly in your chest.

You climb the few steps to his porch feeling insecure and stupid for accepting, who knows what you expect from this lonely man.

You shrug and knock on the door, snuggling into your cardigan in the cool evening air.

You consider going back and pretending you had a mishap, but Joel opens the door.

“Hey, come in” he smiles at you. You cross the threshold timidly as a delicious scent invades your nostrils.

Who knew Joel Miller could cook?

You follow him into the kitchen and Joel pours you a glass of wine.

“Where did you find this?” you ask in surprise. Wine is a luxury that you haven't been able to afford many times in Jackson, usually the only thing they bring back after searches and patrols are bottles of cheap whiskey.

“I found it two km from here in an abandoned shop. It was stuck under a shelf, probably for years”

“Oh, great”

“Well they say that aged wines are better. Like men, don't you agree?” He smiles, winking at you.

He winked.

Fuck.

You try to hide your surprise by taking a long sip from your glass.

While Joel is busy checking on the stew you take a look around the living room.

It's a nice house, simply furnished like all the houses in Jackson, tidy and clean.

There are some sheets with drawings on the coffee table in front of the couch. You know Joel made them because you've seen him several times on his porch busy drawing animals. A squirrel, a deer, a small bird. He's really good at it.

And obviously his guitar, resting on a stand in a corner near the couch.

In a totally cheesy way you would love to hear him play something for you.

“So, do you like wine?”

You turn and see that he is a few steps away from you, glass in hand.

“Uhm, yeah, it’s good”

He gives you a smile “stew is almost ready”

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, don’t worry, you’re the guest”

You see him linger with his gaze on your legs and up to your breasts and you think that the dress wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He is wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans and is breathtaking.

You scan each other for a few seconds, without speaking. You are like two predators sniffing each other to see who will give in first.

“That dress looks good on you” he finally says and for the first time you notice that he is slightly embarrassed. He looks down at his glass and stares at it harder than necessary.

You still don't know why he invited you tonight but honestly at this point you don't even care. He's more handsome than ever, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and pulled back, that little scar on his cheek that you'd be eager to find out the story of, that smile he's giving you and his hands nervously gripping the glass, everything about him draws you in like a magnet.

"Thank you. You're not bad either." You giggle and you know that it’s definitely what you needed tonight. To feel attractive. To feel seen.

He comes back to the kitchen and after a few seconds he calls you “Dinner’s ready”

You sit at the table in the kitchen and he places a plate in front of you that smells of home, of memories and takes you back to when you were little and your mom cooked for you.

It's like Proust's madeleine.

Evoking sweet feelings with food is one of your favorite things to remember who you were, who you loved, and what was before this debacle.

It's melancholy but also comfort in a certain way, it's like holding on to the truest and most authentic part of you, the one that made you who you are today and probably allowed you to survive.

You take a bite as Joel looks at you in anticipation.

“Wow, this is good!” you exclaim “extremely good. Who knew that you were a chef”

“Ha! I’m really not, it’s just a stew and I’ve done it so many time that I can’t get it wrong at this point”

“It's still the best I've had in years, I need to get invited to dinner more often”

You chuckle and then you blush, because you've made it clear that you hope it's the first of many times.

Damn you.

You hadn't had a love interest in years, obviously, there wasn't time to think about that while the world burned and you had to fight to stay alive. But here, in this little bubble, where people have welcomed you and you have recovered crumbs of normality, it doesn't seem too stupid to feel something for Joel.

Is he grumpy? Sometimes. But he is also incredibly generous, to be honest. When you asked him, a formal contractor, to help you create the library he snorted, he told you that it wasn't necessary, that no one would ever go there anyway.

You shrugged and said that you would have done it anyway with or without his help, Maria had already given you permission.

The next morning you got up early to go and clean up the designated building and found him there, he was repairing a damaged window that wouldn't go up or down.

He grumbled when you asked him ironically what he was doing “someone has to stop you from opening a crumbling library”

You smiled, feeling your heart warm.

And so it was every day until the place was ready. Joel showed up early in the morning or in the evening, spent a few hours fixing the steps, eradicating moths, building shelves and cabinets, even a desk for you.

You've never talked in depth about your lives but you still know something you've heard through the grapevine. He's very secretive about his past so you never asked him any uncomfortable questions, the last thing you would want is for him to never share anything with you again.

The time he helped you with the library was the most enjoyable time you've had here so far and that's when you realized that your crush was more serious than expected.

“Do you want another glass of wine?”

“Why not, i don’t have to drive home”

He laughs “Yeah, no fines for you”

“At most a headache, but I'll think about that in the morning”

“Were you surprised when I invited you?”

he leaves you speechless for a moment and then you find, you don't know how, the strength to use irony, like you always do "I've known for a long time that you want me" you giggle and brush your hair away from your face while you say it.

"Oh yes? How strange, I actually thought it was the opposite” the smirk and the deep chuckle he gives to you goes straight to the most private part of you. Right there. It sits on your clit and you feel it tingling.

Fuck, this man.

You never experienced a flirty Joel Miller before and you were actually quite sure he wasn’t even capable of being so but he is.

“Oh shut up, finish eating” you scoff, feeling your cheeks turn on fire.

He lets go for a while and watches you amusedly fill your mouth with his stew.

“It's a pleasure to see you eat, little finch”

He started calling you that when you couldn't move the furniture in the library on your own. "I don't know how you thought you could manage on your own, little finch."

At first you hated it, now you pretend to hate it but you actually like it.

“Stop calling me that!” you still have to keep up a facade after all.

“Oh come on, finch is the cutest bird, don’t be offended”

“I’m no bird” you pout.

“Yep you are, finch. Delicate. Elegant. Pretty. You walk like you’re floating in the light air and your voice is a lovely chirping sound. It gets on my nerves sometimes, but I actually like it. A lot.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You can't believe he said that.

You feel your heart melt like snow under the sun, your lips involuntarily curl into a smile, your hands tremble with the desire to touching him and between your legs a lustful heat invades you all over.

His face is relaxed, his eyes sparkle mischievously and his smile…his smile pins you to the chair.

You raise your glass in an attempt to drink some courage while he doesn't stop looking at you silently.

Just enough time to bring your lips close to the glass and you find yourself coughing, you're too distracted and the wine goes sideways.

Obviously.

You can't help but look like a fool in front of him, you don't even know how he thinks you're elegant.

“Jesus, are you okay?” he asks in alarm as he reaches up to wrap his arm around your back and pat you lightly.

To your surprise, his large, calloused hands can be very gentle.

“Oh my god, yes, yes I’m okay” you reply between coughs "I'll get over it now"

Now that he knows that you will survive he sits back down to his chair and scrutinizes you with an amused expression.

“Did I go too hard on you?”

“What? No, not all” you reply red-faced, while trying to regain some composure.

“Okay, if you say so” he places a hand on yours gripping the table “Has it passed?”

“Yeah, I think it is” You pour a little water into the other glass he has set and drink, this time slowly.

Finally you feel your breathing return to regularity and your cough gradually subside.“Thank goodness, little finch, think if I should have taken you to the doctor in that lovely dress” and laughs.

You've never seen him laugh so much.

He is intelligible most of the time but tonight he is an open book.

“What's wrong with this dress, Miller?” you ask, ironically, you may be clumsy but not to this point and you want to try to get back at him.

"Nothing. You don't see many of them in Jackson, that's all."

“It doesn't look like anything special to me,” you say, as you realize he's staring insistently at your tits. “Do you see anything special, Miller?”

He shrugs “It’s pretty low cut for nothing”

You bend over slightly, resting your forearms on the table smiling at him, exposing your boobs even more. He is sitting in front of you and still watching at them.

“You're pretty good at it after all, little finch” his eyes have become darker and it's as if a small flame is burning inside them.

You feel a certain pride rising in your chest.

“Now you look like the embarrassed one, Miller, have you seen how things have changed?” Your smirk doesn't go unnoticed by Joel who squirms in his seat as if it has suddenly become uncomfortable.

"Can you tell me something? Why did you invite me tonight?” you’re pushing him, and you know it. And actually, you like it, for once you feel like you have the upper hand.

“Isn't it obvious, finch?” he mutter.

“Maybe, but I'd like to hear it from you. Use your words, Miller, I know you can."

“When you asked me to help you to arrange the library I thought you were crazy. Then I realized I was wrong. It was a nice idea. It was a great idea actually. No one here can go anywhere anymore, and in any case there is nowhere you can go so it is comforting to know that there is always a way to take refuge elsewhere, at least for a few hours, reading a great book. So yes, finch, I like you. I like you because you gave us back some beauty.”

“Fuck Miller, you can make speeches whenever you want”

“It's just one of the reasons I like you, you’re also smart and thoughtful and gorgeous but yeah, that’s it, I’ve said it”

His gaze is languid, you'd almost say longing. Maybe you managed to scratch a small piece of the invisible armor he built to protect himself.

One moment you were bickering as usual and the next Joel fucking Miller left you speechless.

No sarcasm, not an ounce of irony, he sounds sensitive and vulnerable.

It's so strange to see him in this light, the only other time it happened to you you were in the library, he found a children's book and held it in his hands looking at it in silence.

For a moment you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, he looked helpless and hurt and then it was the usual Joel, complaining about the mess and the weight of the boxes you had made him lift that gave nightmares to his back.

You get up from the chair without even realizing it, as if it were an involuntary movement that your body needs.

You stop in front of him, who is still sitting, his arms abandoned on the table, his gaze following you questioningly.

You put a hand in his hair and let it run through his dark curls while he instinctively closes his eyes, abandoning himself completely under your touch.

You would like to say something but you don't want to ruin the moment and in any case you can't find any words suitable to describe how you feel.

Moved, yearning, grateful, overwhelmed?

All these things together at the same time.

You let your hand linger on the base of his neck, stroking softly

“Look at me” you whisper.

And his gaze turns, his whole body turns, and you've never seen him so clearly. He rests his large hands on your hips and his gaze pierces you as he lands on yours.

You feel his grip tighten as you lean over him and leave a shy kiss on his lips. Small. Brief. And another, instinctively. And yet another.

And another until his lips part on yours and fit perfectly in a long sigh. He tastes like wine and loneliness and desire.

It’s manly but tender and demanding for more.

Your tongues meet and it's like an electric shock that surprises you but at the same time it's inevitable like when two surfaces rub together generating energy, it is an unwritten physical law that holds you together despite having used all your strength to keep each other at a distance for months.

Now, all you can do is give up.

You kiss him like it's the last thing you do in your life, his eager hands roam your hips, gripping your ass and squeezing tightly.

He part from your lips just the time to stand up and wrapping you entirely in his arms, his mouth searching for yours again, eager, his hands stroking your back while you feel just like a little finch in the most comfortable nest you could find.

“God, I want you” he mutter in your ear nuzzling at your sensitive skin.

“Take me. Just… take me, Joel”

It’s a dreadful need that you feel deep in your bone, the last shred of love you could find in this broken world, a sweet feeling of release that you desperately wanted.

You can’t think straight and don’t want to.

He take off your cardigan and reaches for the hem of your dress and lifts it up roaming your thighs feverishly, squeezing and stroking, his fingers digging into your flesh as you moan softly into his ear. He pulls it up to your waist and you help slide it off your head.

He bends down to take off your boots and throws them on the floor in an unspecified place, then he gets up and takes you back in his arms. He's still dressed while you're almost naked and exposed in a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra. You might be intimidated but you're not. You let yourself be held and explored by his hands. His calloused fingers, rough but gentle, touch you everywhere, giving you goosebumps. He lifts a hand to one of your breast and squeezes it through the fabric.

You can't help but let out a muffled moan while he is filling his hand with your flesh.

“Do you like it, finch? Me squeezing your boob?” he says in a whisper, looking into your eyes.

“Y-yes” you mumble “give me more”

There's a smug, lecherous smile painted on his face as he reaches for your bra and unclasps it with a single gesture.

He slides it off and drops it on the kitchen floor. Your nipples stiffen in an instant, hit by the air, he takes one between his fingers and pinches it, pulling it gently and then his mouth is on it swirling his tongue and sucking it. You squirm at the sensation, digging your hand into his hair again, pushing his face into your breast “more, more” you stammer. You feel his smile spread across your skin and his teeth bite lightly into you.

“You’re ravenous, aren’t you?”

You pull his hair and tilt his face slightly to regain eye contact. “Do you mind?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Good, you can continue doing what you were doing” you smile defiantly. You like to provoke him, especially now.

“You're bossy for a little finch, I like that”

he smiles back, his eyes shining bright with thrill and anticipation.

He returns to greedily licking and sucking like a thirsty man on your nipples, another loud moan escape from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good”

“I just started with you, you have no idea what awaits you” he whispers.

“Mmm then less talking, Miller, show me”

Without having to be told twice, he picks you up, much to your surprise, and places you on his couch in the living room.

“Woah, Miller, easy”

“You told me not to waste time talking” he shrugs. chuckling.

He pulls you to the edge of the couch “spread your legs”

You open your legs a little but he is visibly not satisfied, he takes your knees and opens them more "Like this. Now stay still” he orders.

He kneels between your thighs and pulls your panties aside.

You feel his fingers trail up your thigh, slowly, taking the time to slide lightly over your skin, causing you a mixture of tickling and excitement.

You writhe when you feel his index finger grazing your pussy lips, wandering up and down caressing for a little bit before sliding it between them and wetting it completely in your juices.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”

You can literally feel your cunt dripping when he keeps going up and down, briefly sinking into your hole with the tip of his finger and then on your clit, moving in circle with two fingers over your bundle of nerves.

You’re whining again, you’re growing impatient and he perfectly knows that

“Joel…”

“Yes, Finch?”

“You're doing it again”

“What”

“You know what. Do you want to torture me?”

"No. I just want you to beg me."

“God, you’re impossible” you roll your eyes out of exhaustion and arousal.

He stops completely.

“So are you, babe. Can you please let me do what I know best?”

He presses on your clit with two fingers and you squirm.

“Fuck. Okay”

He starts teasing your clit again, moving his fingers up and down to gather your wetness and spread it all over your lips.

“The thing is, finch, your pussy is so good. Look at her, I can’t rush it. She deserves to be loved nicely and slowly”

He is sitting on his heels just taking his time with you and you can’t be more eager to have him in your hole but you breath, resigned to wait for his pace.

He teases your entrance again, this time with two fingers, pushing in a little deeper.

His thumb is still taking care of your clit, moving a little faster than before.

“Eyes on me, babe”

And you do, you lock your eyes with his and you see hunger and lust and wonder.

He’s admiring you and you feel flattered.

He brings his face closer and sticks his tongue out, licking you from bottom to top and then again, letting it slide between your lips.

His beard is scratching you, his tongue stops on your clit swirling around it, jerking it slowly, again and again until you see him closing his lips on it and sucking gently.

He’s devouring you at this point and you mewl and cry and scream for more.

“Jesus - fuck - oh my goodness”

Your fingers are entwined into his curls and you’re pushing his face against you as much as you can, his tongue is fucking your hole now, he delves into you and lick all he can and you start to feel an incredible warmth rising from your core, in your tummy, to your chest.

He finally lets his index and middle finger sliding into you, pumping slowly in and out of your dripping wet cunt.

“Joel, oh my God I - ha! - I can’t, oh God”

“Yes, you can. Just like that, baby, give it to me” he whispers softly against your skin.

You’re on the verge of coming, the most incredible orgasm is knocking at your senses, overwhelming and brutally crushing into you.

“I’m com - oh GOD - yes,Joel, fuck”

He praises you again “come for me, soak my fingers, come on”

And you do. You gush all over his fingers like it was the last thing you do in the world, your legs shake and your heart reach an impossible pace that leaves you breathless.

He keeps licking and pumping into you until you calm and you can’t take your eyes off him bowed between your thighs, he drives you wild.

He stands up grunting at his poor knees and you giggle, he raises an eyebrow at you

“I wouldn't laugh considering the fact that I just made you scream my name”

He sits down on the couch next to you, circling your waist with his big strong arm and pushing you against him.

You bury your face in his chest “Aw, you’re so touchy, Miller” and you giggle again.

“You’re such a little brat.” He says, stroking your hair “But see? I wasn’t lying. It's been many years since I last did this but I still know what to do”

You raise your eyes at him “yeah, I give you that. You’re fucking good” and you place a kiss on the hairless part of his beard “but I-”

“What?” he interrupts you, looking at you maliciously

You bite your lower lip, feeling hot again just for the way he’s holding you tightly watching you with lust in his eyes.

“I want your cock”

“Oh. It’s time to beg, baby”

“Joel…”

“Beg for it, little finch” he’s smiling but his voice is firm and slightly authoritative

“I never beg” you scoff

“You will start now, sweetie, if you want to see me naked”

You look at him with exasperation, rolling your eyes immediately after “okay, Jesus. Can you please give me your cock?”

“Manners, babe. Ask gently”

You ask yourself what have you done wrong to fall for such an unbearable man “Good Lord”

“Beg with conviction”

“Joel Miller, could you do me the courtesy of fucking me? Please?”

You’re smirking hard. You definitely love to get on his nerves.

“You’re getting into trouble with this attitude, you know that?” He reaches one of your nipples and pinches it hard making you whimper into his arms.

You turn serious, looking him in the eyes intensely, licking your lip before saying “Fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Mmm yes, just like that baby, it didn't take much”

He finally stands up in front of you. He takes off his shirt, revealing a strong, broad chest.

You can see a thin strip of hair disappearing under his jeans but apart from that he is almost hairless, his skin is delightfully dotted with freckles that make your mouth water.

He throws off his shirt and bends over to remove his boots.

Your eyes linger on his back, on his tense, rippling muscles, you can't believe how gorgeous he is, after all you think it was worth begging for this but you will never tell him.

He unzips his jeans and takes them off, remaining in his boxers. The sight of his deliciously soft tummy drives you completely insane. You’re craving him like you never did with anyone before.

“Kneel on the couch for me, baby” he orders and you immediately do, you turn your head just in time to see him taking off his boxers, freeing his already hard and swollen cock. Your knees sink into the pillows and your hands rest on the armrest, you are completely exposed to his will.

He gets behind you on his knees, gripping your hips and pulling you towards him.

“Fuck me Joel, please, fuck me now” you cry

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock like that. You learn quickly, little finch”

You only feel the tip poking at your entrance, he slides his cock against your dripping folds “Beg once more, babe”

You writhe, it’s more than you can take right now, you want him desperately.

“Please, Joel. Please” your voice sounds distraught but you don’t care, not now.

He enters you with a single thrust that makes you scream “Fuck!”

He’s big, so big that his cock burns in your center.

“I told you you were getting into trouble, baby, if you wanted me to be gentle you should have behaved better”

It's a small punishment you can bear, after a few seconds you already got used to his intrusion, you never felt so full before and right now you couldn’t ask for anything better.

He begins to move slowly, in and out of you, sinking deeper each time and reaching that spot that makes you see stars.

His loud grunts numb your head, his fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts into you, maybe he will leave some marks and the thought excite you even more.

“Oh God, please don’t stop, please”

He’s pounding into you incessantly, every thrust more deep leaving you short breath, you’re so wet that every lewd sounds coming from your cunt is making you feel like you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like that, babe, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, so perfect for me”

You whine even more at his praises, feeling your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

“Joel please I’m-”

“I know baby, I know, I can feel you, squeezing my cock just right, God you’re taking me so good”

You basically spasm on his cock right now, legs trembling as your sink your fingers in the fabric of the couch desperately trying to hold your posture.

He holds you tightly by your hips, grunting with each thrust into you, hitting your cervix again and again.

“Come for me baby, come all over my cock”

You’re quivering so hard that you almost think of being on the verge of losing your mind.

You cry his name feeling so full and dazed while your orgasm explodes inside you.

He pumps into you until you calm down but he’s still throbbing against your walls “Where do you want me?”

“On my tits - please”

He comes out of you and you lie down on his couch, his throbbing cock is in front of you, he takes it in his hand, milking it a couple of time before releasing his cum all over you. He moans loudly as he paints your tits and chest with his pleasure.

He lies down on top of you, groaning “God, this was amazing”

You feel his sticky seed spreading on your skin but you don't care, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly.

He moves to the side so as not to weigh you down and takes you in his arms again.

You hide your face for a moment in the crook of his neck, inhaling his woody, citrusy perfume, with a hint of the natural sweaty scent of his skin. He smells amazingly.

“I could get used to it” you giggle

“Me too, little finch” and he leaves a kiss on your hair.

“Oh, you made completely forgot about it, do you know what day it is today?”

“No, should I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s my birthday.”

His eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yep”

“Well then happy birthday. Did you like your present?”

“It’s the best I’ve ever received”

You kiss him again, knowing how true it is.

“We should take a shower,” he laughs.

“Yeah, you’re… well…all over me…but to be honest, I like it.”

He smiles widely “Come on little finch, I might have another gift for you in the bathroom”

“Oh, then I can’t wait to unwrap it”

[moocfitab]

I'm rewatching Bound- and I think I have a theory.

Rune has sigils on his hands that mean "To draw/To draw inside" and We know that when Rune touched his old obelisk- it seemed to be absorbed into him and turned his eyes pink-

What if Rune is like- part obelisk because of that?

Or at least is able to help keep things floating and the power to make things fall- like when Rust had their first kiss? High emotions = Unstable powers?

But we haven't seen Rune exhibit any other strange powers like this- or at least nothing that's turned his eyes pink.

I would also like to point out- when Runes old obelisk fell- just about everyone else fell with it, everyone besides Rune and Ava.

Ava survived because- yknow she *has wings* she can fly.

Rune on the other hand- Rune's arm was trapped under fallen debris, leading him to either cut his arm off or have his arm cut off- but what I find interesting is that Rune- a human, someone **without wings and trapped under debris** survived, and woke up in a field of dandelions.

I find it unlikely that it's "just pure luck" or "just a coincidence" that *Rune* of all people survived, while being trapped under fallen debris-

And Rune likely lost *a lot of blood* from his arm being chopped off- or something like that. So I highly doubt that Rune, a human without anyway to fly, who's *also* dealing with extreme blood loss- was able to make it to another island without any sort of obelisk type magic.

What if Rune physically *can't* fall? What if my absorbing the obelisk- it now allows him to survive falling into the anomaly?

When Rune was saved by Vast- we don't know how long he was falling for, but from my (very rough) estimations- Rune was falling for around 4-6 seconds before Vast caught him. The island they were on wasn't that far away from the anomaly (around the same hight as where Armor lives now) So Rune and Vast were at least a couple/few feet away from the anomaly,

If Vast had been too slow- or Rune fell too fast- I theorize that Rune wouldn't have gotten injured by the void (like how everyone else would) maybe the obelisk inside him is keeping him alive- it's stopping him from falling.

I'm gonna be so honest- I have no idea if literally any of this made sense.

But hey- That's just a theory- A Bound Theory!

Thanks for reading ;P

[venusmage]

Commission/Life update for 2024

EDIT 9/16/24

As of now I've resolved around 15 commissions since this post was made at the start of June! This is much faster than I was going the past year. They're going well and I thank everyone again who has been so patient and kind. I've gotten nothing but kindness as a response to the wait, even from those who have been waiting for over a year by now. Thank you.

I recently started two new jobs and school again, so I'm a little busy. BUT everyone is (albeit not at a super fast speed) moving up in queue! Once the owed "Full" commissions are done, I expect to get through Sketch Coms even faster and currently I'm at a good pace to be done by the end of the year.

The best days to reach me are Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays at the moment. Otherwise it might take me a day or so to get back to you. I work on my own projects on the weekends to preserve my sanity, lol! Just know if I'm drawing something else, I haven't forgotten my queue!

------

Original post:

Just want everyone to know I AM okay now and life has gotten better recently. However the past year and a half have been extremely difficult and I'm only now getting back on my feet. I generally don't like sharing life details publicly, but as a freelancer with clients that have been waiting for a while I feel like transparency is key.

If you don't want an explanation for the delays and just want to know my completion timeline, that's totally okay. Here is all the info up front. I'm going to continue updating my commission queue as usual and will not be accepting any more orders until ALL of the queue is completed. I'm working on finishing the half and full bodies first since they've been the longest waiting in queue. Then the rest. I don't have a set date in mind for when they'll be all done for good but the goal is by the end of the year. I think that's more than doable for me now. If you're a client of mine and have questions/concerns, please message me either here or on Discord and I'll do my best to help you. My username on discord is the same as my Tumblr username. Twitter and Ko-Fi are also options but I don't check them as frequently. I usually work Monday-Thursday so that will be the best time to shoot me a message or expect an update to the queue.

Information on what's been going on is below.

CW for mentions of death, financial hardship and homophobia.

As a few of you might remember, in 2019 I was disowned by my mother for being a lesbian. I made the choice to go no-contact. Since then, up until LAST YEAR, she's routinely harassed me or had other family harass me, stalked me on social media, tried to get to me through the website I take commission orders, and threatened me multiple times. I was forced to move across the country both because I felt unsafe and because my partner had family elsewhere that were more accepting. I've had to change my phone number twice.

It's been extremely difficult both financially and mentally to keep my head above water. In 2021 my grandfather died and I still haven't felt like I've been able to properly grieve. I wasn't able to see him due to her and I wasn't invited to his funeral. We were very close and he meant the world to me. In 2023 my grandmother passed away very suddenly as well, and my mother used it as an excuse to harass me over ko-fi/my professional email. It was such a horrific experience that I fell into a months long spiral that I only just now feel like I'm climbing out of. This is when commissions first stalled. I was also starting to get overwhelmed, as I had to take on more work than I could realistically handle in order to pay bills and rent. That's really it - I just had to take more orders so we weren't kicked out of our apartment, and as my mental state deteriorated I couldn't keep up.

The good news is that my wife and moved earlier this year we're living with supportive(!) family now and our financial burden is much lighter. This gives me time to work on my backlog without re-opening. I'm also going to school again, back in college starting this summer for a second degree. For my own health after commissions are finished I'm likely going to take a break on opening them for a good while, even though I really enjoy doing them.

In the past two months amazing and not-amazing things have happened. The amazing thing is I got an ADHD diagnosis, something I didn't even know had been ruining my life for years. I'm still getting used to the proper medications but I'm already seeing a big improvement. It's as much of a relief as it is frustrating. My mother also reared her head again (like she usually does at least once a year) - this time, though, I learned she'd had a stroke. While I'm not involved with her anymore, I think most people could understand how it would still be a very weird and upsetting situation. As of right now I'm free of her once again, she seems to be making a good recovery and will hopefully continue to live a happy life far away from me. Still, those two things back to back have been a LOT to deal with on top of just trying to get better in general. I stepped away from the internet for a while for my own sanity.

The downside to being a freelancer is that there's not always a safety net. That's what happened to me. Thank you all very much for being kind and patient, I genuinely have had nothing but polite interactions with all of you and I really appreciate it. I'm sorry my personal bullshit got in the way of getting my work done for you. This is the longest I've ever taken to complete commissions and it's something that I'm deeply ashamed of. I promise they will get done. Being medicated and starting to recover from the family drama has revitalized me a bit. If you have any questions or concerns please reach out.

[ymechi]

A brainrot suddenly came over me when reading your latest fic about lynette. You know that Freminette banner is now out right? What if he was added to mix of envy along with Lynette being the first to feel their Grace’s warmth. And now, there’s suddenly another sibling from her that can feel the creator’s warmth.

Just a brainrot that occured to me when reading your fic. BTW your writings are amazing!! Don’t pressure yourself to writing

- 🕰️

first off i want to start by thanking you when i read this i was screaming on the inside, i was so happy! I must apologize for writing so late i haven't been in the mood and there was school work to do (i should be doing that right now hehe;;; ) BTW I SOMEHOW GOT FREMINET IN HIS BANNER! So this is a really happy coincidence

hmm for the different character reactions I think for Lynette she would be glad for Freminet that hopefully he can get out of his shell a little more but there would also be some part that is selfish of her that wants to keep her grace's attention on her? Though she would hope that Lyney would become an acolyte as well so all three of them can be complete

Lyney would also be happy for Freminet thinking the same as Lynette that he hopefully can get out of his shell, he does wish the best for Freminet but i also see him as being envious, both of his siblings now are acolytes and it's only him left behind, the same situation in the past where his sister got a vision first (( Poor Lyney i have shit luck with 5 stars it is unlikely he will ever come home to me :') ))

Also for Arlecchino the fact that HER kids are now acolytes she is just smug i can imagine but also a bit worried about the bad attention they can receive but i think she trusts them enough they can handle themselves, though there is a part of her that is bitter she can't be chosen by her grace, perhaps she is too jaded and cracked at the edges compared to her children who still has their future ahead of themselves

previous parts:

rant , lynette meeting the tsaritsa

In Fonntaine much recent gossip has been keeping the city folks chattering and even those living outside of it. The newspapers are eagerly typing about the recent happenings and editors hurrying to work before publishing the news. It seems that another child from *the* House of Hearth had become an acolyte much to the shock of the general citizenry.

The chosen one was none other than Freminet the diving prodigy. Once the divers heard of the news and others in the field knew about it cheers erupted in the taverns.

Said person in question was not seen there.

Rumors have it that a certain pink-haired reporter has been pestering the House of Hearth for days now to get a glimpse of the person but to no avail.

Said person was inside his room, the wooden walls sheltering him from the chatter of the outside world. There he sat in the bed seemingly calm on the outside but on the inside was a different matter. His heart was beating so fast and he knew the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed his fake calm visage.

In his lap he held a book, it was old and worn yet well taken care of. All children in Fontaine around his age have had this book and read it. Freminet remembers the first time he got his hand on the book. He held it softly in fear he might damage the beautiful cover, in awe at the drawings and tales inside of it.

The tales of the creator. While it was a religious text it was watered down with illustrations accompanying it so children would be able to read and understand its contents.

The "old father" was adamant that every child was acquainted with the religious text of the creator and made them read many books on the subject. As they aged this book became unnecessary for when he had to read the thicker and more complex books but Freminet was unable to let go of this book.

Even now he loved to read the tales of acolytes long gone before the time of the oldest archon. The golden swirls and hues of the elements that would surround the creator being depicted in the pictures captured younger Freminet.

Yet now the tales that seemed almost like fiction were becoming true. Now he was an acolyte. He did not know if it terrified him or delighted him.

Would he be able to measure up? Was he enough? Why was he chosen when there were more brilliant and capable people (a selfish part wanted to reject the notion of another being chosen).

Another part of him was delighted. His heart beat as he felt himself being enveloped by warm waters. This was their creator's blessing and he was chosen to get it. Perhaps it would all be fine after all, Freminet thought as the warmth enveloped him in a comforting embrace.

. . .

Lynette pov:

Lynette blew on the hot tea as she took a sip. Besides her Lyney was working on- or well rather trying to work on a new magic trick. Lynette knew her brother and she also knew what caused his frustration as of recently. Yet trying to cheer him up would only be hypocritical of her.

"Maybe you should take a break?"

Lyney did not answer but rather made a huff and continued to tinker on his project. Lynette sighed.

Ever since Freminet was called to the creator's side Lyney has been in a tense mood. He became too frustrated with small mistakes and spent longer time honing his skills. Lynette was worried he would over-exhaust himself.

What could she say though to ease his heart?

Who the creator chose and when was unpredictable, many scholars has tried to see a pattern, see a reason, or even a hint of a formula to no avail. The creator did not discriminate or favor any specific group on whom they summoned and Lynette was witness to that as a member of the fatui and a recent acolyte. There was at least some hope for her brother if she and Freminet were summoned.

A selfish part of her that she would never listen to or admit was how she wanted her grace's attention only on her.

For now, she would wait and see hopefully soon their grace would summon Lyney soon.

. . .

Arlecchino pov:

The fire in the office crackled warming the room and its lone occupant. The letter she received laid on the table as she looked out the snowy scenery outside the window.

It seems another one of her children has become an acolyte.

From the reflection of the window Alrecchino could see her face was donning a smug smirk. She turned around and went back to her desk, a congratulations was in order and she would need to inform the Tsaritsa as well. Arlecchino would need to be delicate when informing her Majesty unless she heard the news already. She would have to tell the pair to be careful it would not do to have an envious archon's gaze.

She tried to erase her own envy from her gaze as well but the reflection in the window said otherwise.

. . .

Extra Freminet birthday bonus:

A package had arrived on the mail addressed to the House of Hearth. At first there was nothing off with the package, many had taken to send Freminet a birthday present as congratulatory gift for becoming an acolyte and gaining his favour. Freminet ignored those, he had no reason to accept or reply those superficial gifts. That was until he saw the symbol and lettering on the package and he almost dropped it in panic.

Now all three siblings were staring at the package in serious contemplation. It was rectangular and had simple packaging it looked rather unassuming as it laid on the table where they put it.

There was one neat card that gave away its significance. The symbol usually associated with the creator was neatly stamped and ancient lettering was on the card. What added further proof to the fact was that both Freminet and Lynette could feel the power of the creator, although faint, imbued within the package.

"Do we wait for father?" Freminet quietly said.

"I think it is your choice Freminet, this is addressed to you," Lyney answered.

"I agree with Lyney on this one, the creator gave this to you for a reason."

Freminet thought about it and a large part of him wanted to take the package and open it another screamed at him to wait, what right did he have to open a gift from the creator.

The curious more selfish part won over and he took hold of the package. The siblings held their breath as Freminet carefully opened the present taking care not to tear the wrapping.

What he did not expect was an inconspicuous book that looked like a fairytale book.

Oh.

Freminet blushed.

Lynette looked at it curiously and Lyney who had an idea had a teasing smile on his face.

Freminet held the book carefully as if anything might damage the book. It would be the best to find a good chest to store it in.

.

.

.

Deep into the night he would trace the illustrations and memorize the words as the moonlight shone on him. The wrapping paper and card were safely tucked inside of his desk.

[tobiasdrake]

Dragon Ball Daima 01x08 - Tamagami

Here we go! It's time to throw hands with a Tamagami. I'm excited to see what they're made of. They've been hyping these things all season thus far.

The opening fight with the Tamagami is another example of how good the animation and fight choreography is in this series.

Dragon Ball has so few weapon battles, so this is a lot of fun to see.

Which makes it a beautiful portrayal of anime's philosophy on weapon combat.

This is my favorite soapbox topics, but this is Daima's first weapon duel so I haven't had a chance to gush about it.

There are major fundamental differences between the way American media thinks of weapons versus anime. This is because of differences in the philosophy of what a weapon is.

The American conception of weapons is rooted in gun culture. A weapon is power. A person is not powerful, but a weapon can bestow power upon them. Possession of a weapon grants the capacity for violence that did not, that could not exist without it.

But anime's conception of weapons is rooted in samurai culture. The weapon is nothing. It's just a thing. It has no power. It can only become powerful when it is in the hands of its wielder. It's an extension of the warrior, a mechanism through which they channel their power, their strength, their skill and ability.

In anime, a weapon can only ever be precisely as powerful as the hand that holds it. No more and no less.

This is why Trunks's sword can be strong enough to cut Frieza in half yet do nothing to Goku's finger and break against Android 18's arm. Because the sword's strength is his strength manifested.

This fight was over right here in this moment.

When the Tamagami's power, when the extension of their being, fractured against Goku's.

The fight kinda seems fairly even from there. Blow by blow, Goku and the Tamagami both struggle to land hits on the other for most of the hand-to-hand fighting that follows.

But actually, no. Goku dominates this fight. This poor Tamagami gets his clock cleaned while putting up the barest resistance.

There are two solid hits, and they're both Goku's.

The first is when Goku stops the Tamagami's punch - which, again, goes to show how much stronger Goku is than the Tamagami. He comes roaring in at full-speed for a flying punch and Goku breaks his momentum and cancels the entire attack with one hand.

Then Goku parries his arm and delivers a spin kick to the Tamagami's face, drawing first blood. Metaphorically speaking; The Tamagami doesn't bleed.

The second solid hit is this kick to the back of the knee.

The Tamagami recovers and is able to deflect Goku's follow-up ki blast, but it's still more of a hit than anything the Tamagami ever lands.

We see an interesting parallel during this fight between Goku and the Tamagami in the way they react to enemy ki flurries. The Tamagami lets off a flurry of shots here.

Which Goku deftly zips around. For his part, Goku attempts a similar flurry here.

Which the Tamagami blocks. There is a sizable mobility difference between the two fighters. The Tamagami's able to follow Goku's movements and react in time to block or parry his moves.

Even with Goku zigzagging around, the Tamagami never loses track of him. Never gets blindsided by an attack it couldn't see coming.

But there's a difference between being able to follow Goku's movements and being able to match them. Goku is light on his feet and fights circles around the Tamagami, while the Tamagami takes more of a bruising juggernaut style. A slow but unstoppable powerhouse.

That. Presents a problem. When we've already established that Goku's strength surpasses the Tamagami's. Goku is fast enough to fight circles around them and strong enough to snap the expression of their power in half. They have nothing.

We see how thoroughly Goku dominates one last time right at the end, when it seems like we're about to get one of the series's iconic Beam Struggles.

Only for Goku's ki to punch straight through the Tamagami's attack like a knife puncturing a water balloon.

It's honestly surprising how thoroughly Goku manhandles the Tamagami. These guys are supposed to be tough enough that even Dabra couldn't take them. Goku and Vegeta were shit-talking Dabra on Babidi's ship, but Gohan did have to go Super Saiyan 2 just to fare as well as he did in that fight.

Man, I guess Gohan let his abilities slide more than we thought. Which. Yeah. That check out. No wonder Vegeta was so furious.

The final test is really interesting too. Traditionally, shell games are a con. You've already lost from the moment you sit down to play. The ball is not under any cup. It's a sleight of hand trick, palming the ball to make it look like you had a chance.

And that is how the Tamagami plays it, but not exactly.

They still cheat, but in a way that's observable if you're fast enough on the uptake. Because you aren't supposed to beat their shell game by just guessing and hoping for the best. This is a test of Goku's observation, and by discarding the Dragon Ball in this fashion, they remove the element of luck from the table while preserving the element of observation.

I have so many questions about how Dr. Arinsu was able to snag a piece of Majin Buu and only 50/50 confidence they will be answered satisfyingly.

However, I am very excited that she has a piece of Majin Buu.

She rides a giant hookah like a witch's broom. Because what's better than traveling in style? Being able to do your drugs while in transit.

Loving the witchy angle we're getting here. I was expecting Dr. Arinsu to be another wicked laboratory scientist type so I am pleasantly surprised by this development.

Continuing down the road of attempting to formally canonize every piece of information Toriyama's ever given in post-series interviews. According to out-of-series interview lore, Bibidi was actually never Majin Buu's creator at all. Buu is an eldritch being of unclear origin that Bibidi merely acquired.

This one seems to have been retconned again, however, in a way that splits the difference. Bibidi still didn't create Majin Buu, but only because this other character standing slightly to his left did it instead.

They're also now pinning the new "All pointy-eared races were secretly Majin all along" lore to Majin Buu's creation. Majin Buu driving the other races away is the reason Namekians fled to the outer world, the reason Dragon Balls exist out there, the reason the whole series can exist.

Someone took it upon themselves to try and make Majin Buu more directly associated with the plot and events of the series and less just. Like. A weird thing that happened one day that has nothing to do with anything.

In the original series, Buu feels utterly divorced from all established storylines and characters. Some god we've never heard of just shows up one day and goes "OH NO A NEW VILLAIN HAS ARRIVED" and we have to go fight him, and that's it. That's the entire plot. New bad guy who dis.

Daima is doing a lot of patchwork to try and hammer Buu into the series lore better. To create ways by which Buu really is an important piece of this universe and really does warrant his status as the Ultimate Villain that it was all leading up to, the very pinnacle of everything that has ever transpired up to that point.

And at the same time to build off of Buu into a new story the way Piccolo or the Saiyans or Frieza or the Androids all springboarded off of what had come before. Simultaneously laying down retroactive connectivity for Buu while also laying down connectivity for itself from Buu.

I'm not a big fan of the way "Everything was Majin all along" shrinks the Dragon Ball universe. I feel about "Namekians and Kaios were all Majin all along" the same way I would if it was established that Saiyans, Namekians, and Frieza were all descended from ancient humans who flew off into space, and actually they were all the same species this whole time.

I liked Namekians better when they were just a cool alien race that existed in space because the universe is weird and requires no explanation.

But I'll take more connectivity for Buu. And if anyone is going to turn out to have been Majin all along, Majin Buu seems like an obvious pick.

So am I. I've been wondering since the start of the series who the Final Boss would be. It obviously can't be Gomah; That little shit is weaker than Dabra. We have a firmly established hierarchy of Gomah < Dabra < Tamagami < Son Goku that makes it unlikely that Gomah could ever have a climactic final battle with Goku.

With Dr. Arinsu now having a new and improved Majin Buu created, the pieces are falling into place. This seems much more like a "Final Boss" type of entity.

[xxtc-96xx]

I need to know. How are you able to draw so well and animate so well so fast by yourself? That's something I tried to do.

I guess I'd qualify as a "professional" though I've mainly been rotoscoping for the recent gifs lol I haven't tried making a sequence in a while

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Dom Chris making needy, desperate Seb tell him about all his favorite fantasies while not touching him and making Seb either use a flashlight or a dildo send tweet ask

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

YES!

And as fucking much as I love the idea of Sebastian being left out to dry, allowed to pleasure himself with a fleshlight or dildo but not having permission to cum, not until Chris is satisfied by the amount of filthy, dirty little secrets he gets Seb to spill, consider the idea of Chris touching Sebastian extensively, driving him out of his mind, not letting him cum but making sure he feels so, so good and he will keep feeling good... he just has to keep talking.

I say consider because if Chris is the one doing all the hard work of coordinating the rhythm and deciding when Sebastian has earned more or less stimulation, then Seb's mouth is that much freer to spill all his fantasies. He'd be so out of control, unthinking, just talking. Floundering, fully submitting to Chris' whims.

Further, imagine that they've just gotten together officially after dancing around each other for a while, keeping up with the friends with benefits charade even as they develop feelings for each other and are exclusive. So, while Chris knows Sebastian responds very, very well to praise and direction, he doesn't know just how deep that runs within Seb. As a result, he wants to find out. He's curious. He has a hunch, but he really needs to know if he's right or not for sure, so...

Time to fuck around and find out.

Including: kink discovery, collars/leashes/cages mentioned, an utterance of "pet", dom/sub undertones, etc.

Sebastian is a gorgeous, rare specimen spread out beneath Chris in perfect technicolor. Rare and precious, he is immobilized against Chris' bed like a butterfly secured to cork board by entomological pins. He isn't going anywhere.

Sebastian's pins, really, are silk neckties--the easiest thing Chris had on hand to help with his plan for drawing out every latent fantasy that Sebastian seems to be full of yet just can't manage to get out of his mouth without a little bit of encouragement. Chris is here to encourage him. He just needs a little push to get over that hump so everything going on in that pretty little head can be shared with the class. Chris needs to know him inside and out. It's all he wants.

And according to Chris' wants, Sebastian's wrists are tied to the headboard, one at each corner, and his legs are arranged similarly to the baseboard, so he's really fucking spread open. Beyond that, though, Seb's eyes are also covered, another necktie keeping him in the dark so he can't predict the way Chris is jerking him off.

There's no real rhythm to his hand as he strokes him. He doesn't even stroke him sometimes. Chris is doing entirely as he sees fit, keeping his fist really, really wet and slick with lube but not consistently squeezing or keeping loose or going fast or going slow. He's not even continually teasing his foreskin or tugging at and rolling his balls. He's leaving it all random. He doesn't want Seb to be able to get a fucking grip.

The only dependent factor out of this whole experiment is what comes out of Sebastian's mouth. Everything else is up to Chris' whim and, isn't that telling?, how much Sebastian likes it.

He really likes it.

They haven't been having bad sex up until this point, not by any stretch of the imagination. But the sex they've been having, as heart-stoppingly good as it was, doesn't compare to this. They're not even really having sex. Like. They are. But no one's getting penetrated? Chris isn't even getting touched? So, whatever? Sex or not sex, this is electric. The undercurrent is crackling. Tight, hot, and expectant.

It's magic.

Sebastian really fucking likes this.

Chris really, really fuckin' likes this, too. He likes it way more than he even thought he would when he devised this devious, perverted plan in the privacy of his own dirty mind.

Jesus Christ.

At some points, Chris has been nice enough to start stretching out his hole, sliding in two fingers to his smooth, wet, heat, just enough to curl and rub and press against his prostate. Nothing more. They're at Chris' house in Boston, so they don't have a ton of supplies, not Sebastian's in NYC which does contain lots of, uh, supplies (which was another hint to Chris that Seb is into way, way more than he lets on, way more than he can stutter out around a blush), and definitely not in the bare-bones environment of some random-ass hotel room in the middle of wherever. So, there are options, obviously, but not a ton.

So, Chris is working mostly with his hands. Chris likes working with his hands. He's hands-on whenever the option is allowed. He's working completely with his hands if the neckties are to be discarded and ignored. Which. Sebastian seems to be incrementally forgetting about them. Every few minutes, when Chris does something that feels particularly good, particularly randomly, shockingly, and Sebastian jolts, tugging harshly against his restraints before settling again, whining for a moment but accepting his fate. Accepting and loving his fate if his following shuddering groans and moans are anything to go by.

Chris feels like a kid in a candy shop, grinning to himself wickedly. He likes this! He really fucking likes this! They both do.

But.

His hands.

Mostly, it's Chris' hands.

He's jerking Sebastian off. No real pattern, just a single-minded goal to drive him out of his mind, hitting all those sensitive places sometimes and other times not. Just because.

Chris works Sebastian chaotically up to orgasm with his hands--touching him wherever he pleases, and he pleases that entire fucking gorgeous body--but backing him down before he can fall over the edge to heightened bliss.

He's flicking those poor, hard nipples and making Seb's chest heave with cries of desperation. He responds so well to just a little bit of nail, adding to the bite of an otherwise simple pinch. Just a tiny bit more pain. He's, just, so responsive. And responsive to everything--pleasure, praise, pain, orders, everything. It makes Chris eager to do more.

Truly, this is, already, more than he's done with anyone else--kinkier than anything else he's experienced with anyone--just by virtue of tying and blindfolding and ordering Seb to talk about anything and everything that makes his dick hard, but... with Sebastian underneath him? Reacting like that? Looking like that? He could do this all fucking day and not bat an eye.

It's impossibly hard to think deeply with such intense, heavy fog clouding his head. As much as Seb likes this, Chris does. He might even fucking like it all more because he's so shocked by how every bit of this, every word that trips and falls out of Sebastian's mouth, turns him on. How did he not fucking now this about himself? Was he just waiting for Sebastian to come along so he could be unmasked? Why was nothing this good with anyone else?

Fuck.

Chris has it bad.

He's fingering him. One finger, then two, then going after his sweet spot, and knowing exactly when he hits it because Sebastian's noises get just that much more needy. He's loud. It's perfect. Moaning, gasping, and clenching with wet sounds around Chris' fingers as he blubbers about his fingers.

Chris is beginning to think Seb has some kind of fetish for just his hands. But maybe it's just the bias of Chris only using his hands. It's possible.

He's playing with his balls then, rolling them, tugging at them, feeling their weight, and painting Seb a picture about how good they look after being backed off from so many orgasms. Right between his legs, his balls are all drawn up tight and full, eager for his release. Yeah. Yeah, he's gonna make a big fucking mess for him, isn't he? He's rubbing his perineum, torturing his prostate not just from the inside but the out, too--worrying over that tender little spot and loving how it makes Seb howl.

He's kissing him and biting his jaw and nibbling at his ear and even daring to suck marks into his spread, quivering inner thighs, adding to Sebastian's pleasure with his mouth. Chris fucking loves how the suddenness of each unexpected kiss makes Seb turn, squirming, nearly thrashing, sometimes into it and sometimes away from from. Wanting it so fucking badly that he'll chase it, but also so overwhelmed that he doesn't know what he really wants. He doesn't know anything. He's just handing it all over to Chris. Giving it up. Trusting him.

God.

That's so fucking hot.

It's no wonder Seb is saying all kinds of dirty things like this. He's fucking strung out. Chris can't imagine how maddening it feels. He thinks he'd be overwhelmed as hell, probably fucking dying, just wanting to get off and stop already, so much sensation that it's blinding, despite being blindfolded. But, every time he checks in and gives Sebastian an easy out, he pleads with Chris to keep going. He's sobbing now.

Desperate.

And Chris... Chris has seen porn where people cry it in before. Of course. Chris has had sex where his partner has cried from how much meaning was laced into it. (More often, Chris has been that partner so caught up in it, really fucking making love, that he's cried.) He's never--he's never known how fucking erotic it is to make someone cry because they're so out of their mind.

So, so out of their mind--his mind, this is Sebastian he's talking about, that Chris can't help but blurt out some of his own unrealized, buried fantasies, too. He's just so drawn into and feeding off of the crazed heat rolling off of Sebastian in waves. He can't filter himself, groaning, "could lead you around by the cock like this, hmm? Couldn't I, baby? You'd let me." He doesn't even know what he's saying, he doesn't know what he means, he doesn't know where it comes from, he just knows that Sebastian likes it, crying so hard, nodding so urgently, it seems like he's possessed.

"Please, please!" Sebastian whimpers urgently, his words blurring together.

"You want that?" Chris pushes, he's so fucking hard he can't stand it. But. He also can't take his hands off of Sebastian. He wouldn't survive a moment not touching him when he's like this.

"Yes!" He whines, so loud and so high that it's got to hurt his throat. If it does, at this point, Sebastian doesn't fucking notice or care.

"What else?" Chris asks for the millionth time tonight. He wants to pull everything single thing out of Sebastian. He wants to know him when he's entirely unraveled. And he's feeling that, at this point, he should either be taking fucking notes or, damn, he should've thought to record this. It'd be great reference (and great jerk off) material. If only he'd thought of that before...

"L-lead me around by the, the cock like 'm leashed." Sebastian whimpers.

Fire burns, tears, and rips hotly through Chris immediately. The way he says that word.

Leashed.

Chris moans raggedly.

He's never considered leashing someone like they're a goddamn pet he needs to keep close, but, Jesus Christ, something inside him is so possessive and greedy and obsessed with Sebastian and all his prettiness that yeah. Yeah, he could do that. He could leash him, lead him around, and keep him close. He'd take care of him. Feed him, bathe him, love him--

Chris cuts off his horny caveman spiral, murmuring, mostly to himself, "you'd need a collar first if you wanna be leashed, honey."

Sebastian hears him, though, and he sobs wordlessly. Reacting so responsively to him, like always, stretching his neck back, arching as if to show off the pale, elegant column of his throat, putting it on display so Chris can take in how empty it looks without anything there laying claim to him. He needs a collar. If not a collar, at least, he needs a necklace of love bites. Teeth marks. Hickies. But they can't do that, Seb can't go outside like that. A collar would be...

Yeah.

That'd be fucking something.

Just for them.

No one else around. Behind closed doors. A mark of trust and submission and--

Chris growls.

"Yeah, baby?" Chris jumps off the deep end, joining Sebastian as he drowns, uncaring about the burn of water getting into his lungs, "you want that? You want a nice collar and leash so I can keep you close to me?"

"Yes!" Seb cries, his muscles tensing and rippling like he just can't contain himself--it sounds that fucking sexy to him.

God, Chris is so into how into this Seb is.

Chris isn't sure if he's actually got any of these kinks, but it doesn't matter when he has such a strong, potent kink for Sebastian. He wants Sebastian so bad. He wants to eat him. He wants to please him. He needs to give him everything he wants--everything he deserves. He'd do anything for him, pretty baby.

"Should I get you tags, too?" Chris is teasing, breathless. Mostly. He is also curious. Where does this end? How far will he go? How far will they go? Is there more pleasure to extract from this? How can there be more? Better? Huh?

"Oh, god!" Seb chokes on a moan.

"What was that?" Chris chuckles despite how fast his head is spinning, no longer fingering Seb but jerking off his throbbing cock instead. He's throbbing. Twitching. Jerking.

"Ohmygodd, tags! I want tags, wanna be yours--p-property of Chris Evans--want you to collar me and keep me and lead me around by my leash. Want everyone to know. Wanna be good for you. I'll do anything. Just, please. I want it. Wanna be collared and leashed and--"

"And?" Chris cuts in. Seb's spiraling, going down, down, down. Chris wants to know how far he'll go, but he's got to direct a little. He doesn't mind. He fucking loves directing, especially directing such a sweet thing like Sebastian.

"My collar and leash and you can put me in my cage and--"

"Cage?" Chris questions, so dangerously, hotlt intrigued.

Seb makes this high, pitchy sound that says that that wasn't supposed to come out of his mouth, but it did anyway. If his hands were free, Chris suspects they would be slapped over his mouth in embarrassment, yearning to take back what he just let slip. "S-sorry," he whimpers, all desperate and cute, "'m so--"

Chris cuts him off, "it's okay, honey," he soothes, rubbing his cock fast and tight just for that. Seb keens. Pleasured hard. "I didn't say cage, but that's 'cause I didn't know you wanted a cage. You can have a cage, sure thing, sweetheart. What about your cage?"

"I, I, oh god, I saw a cage that fits underneath a bed online, and I want it," he sobs. "I want it." He's shaking so hard, jerking as much as he can up into Chris' fist. It's not very much. He's so weak. "I wanna be in my cage, collared and leashed. You can tie my leash to the bars of the cage and leave me there with a toy to keep me, me, keep me occupied."

"What kinda toy?" Chris urges.

"Hnngh, anything, anything you want. Just. Just something to keep me occupied and hard while you're in bed relaxing. 'M just so needy you needed a break, and I'm dying. I'm hard and whining and you won't touch me, won't lemme cum even though I need to. I need it. But you won't let me."

"Why not? Why wouldn't I let you?"

"'Cause you know what I need. You know better than me. You know, you know--"

"Do I?"

"Mmm-hmm! You know what I need, I just get so, so... I need you. Need you to tell me what to do. Need you to collar me and leash me and cage me and have me. Wanna be owned. Wanna be yours. Please?"

"Say that again."

"Wanna be yours."

"Who's?"

"Yours!"

"Say my name, Seb, and I'll let you cum."

"C-Chris!"

"Again."

"Chris!"

"Who's name is gonna be on your collar, honey?"

"Chris!"

"And where are your manners, Seb?"

"Please, Chris, pleeease!"

"Good," Sebastian convulse from just the single word, shaking apart worse as he says it again, "good boy. I want that, too. I wanna give you what you need, you kinky fucker," he chuckles, "and I want you to cum, right now."

Sebastian cries out so hard that his voice breaks into silence. Shattered. But he does as Chris demands. And, oh my god, Chris is going to be hard pressed to get off any other way ever again now that he knows he can make Seb cum because he told him to.

Fuck.