#what I still don’t know is whether I deserve one

[doodle-pops]

House of Fingolfin | Wanting Another Round

A/N: *head pats and kisses for everyone* Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, female reader, marathon sex, multiple orgasms, rough sex, dacryphilia (squint), manhandling, pet names being used (princess, sweetheart, sweet girl), daddy kink (single use)

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fingolfin — He’s commanding when he wants to go another round, always convincing you that the number you’ve already experienced isn’t enough and one more is required.

Achieving your umpteenth orgasm and bowing your back off the bed, your back collided with your husband’s chest and the delicious roll of your nipples against his sweaty skin elicited a heavenly moan from both your throats. His hands were gripping your legs, spreading them further apart while his hips continued to slap against your ass without remorse. He fucked you through your orgasm and was about to fuck you into a new one, not caring whether or not you could give him another. You were going to give him another.

“Squeezing me love. Hmm, you feel so heavenly around me,” he whispered against your ears as his seductive eyes were locked on your puffy lips taking his cock. He was living for the sight of more. “Are you going to give your daddy one more? You look like you need another.”

The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out your heat echoed loudly with the lewd sounds escalating with each thrust. His balls were heavy and still full of unreleased cum that he planned on emptying before the night was over, and you were going to take every drop. Curling your nails into the sheets as his cock rubbed against that one spot repetitively, your eye lids drooped and rolled at the same time, leading to your head dropping into the sheets, causing him to hauntingly laugh.

“Close already darling?” he mocked as he pounded into your harder and reached down to pinch your clit, eliciting a squeal.

“Ñolo…ngghh, I can’t—please. I can’t cum again. I don’t…I–I…” You bite your lips in attempt to prevent a high-pitched whine as he stopped his thrusting to rest the tip of his cock against your sweet spot. The weight of his tip left you choking on sobs and squirming within his hold to escape his devilry.

“You can’t cum for me again? Is that what you’re telling me, sweetness?” Pecking your shoulder with a teasing laugh following.. “I wasn’t asking you love; I was telling you that you will cum for me again. No ifs and no buts.”

Without wasting a second, he slid his cock all the way out with teasing intentions until the tip remained inside before slamming his hips against yours with vigour. Your nails tugged at the sheets and dug deeply into the fabric, producing minor rips making him pound away harder, while your cries increased.

“Just like that, sweetness. Let yourself go for me,” he smirked. “It’s what your pretty pussy deserves.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fingon — guilt trips you into giving him another round because he can’t get enough of you with a few pouting and pleads.

Feeling heavy hands pushing your stomach into the mattress while your head remained buried in the sheets, your eye lulled and drooped from the torrent of pounding you were receiving from behind. There was nowhere to escape, no running away and fighting back; just lying there and taking all the pounding your poor tired pussy was experiencing for the nth time tonight. You didn’t know how many orgasms you past through since you started, but from the way your legs were shaking, you knew it was more than five.

“Finno…I–I can’t—my legs. I can’t cum again, too much,” you whined into the bed in a slightly muffled voice before feeling his fingers grip the back of your neck to crane your head upwards. At the same time, he purposefully aimed his cock to pound against your sweet spot to elicit loud and clear squeals from you.

Grinning, he broke into chuckle at the pretty sounds you made for him, clearly displaying that you were more than capable of giving him another orgasm and a few more before the night was over. With a sharp glance at your ass jiggling at it collided with his hips, he dipped his head to brush his lips beside your ear, kissing the tip. “But I barely got enough of you tonight, princess, and I wanted to make you cum more times,” he whined. “Let me make you cum again, please sweetheart? Let me make you feel good; stretch you out nice and good. You asked me to take of you, so let me, sweetheart. Give in…”

You couldn’t resist those familiar words; your body knew them too well and always crumbled under the slightest whisper. On instinct, Fingon felt your walls clamping down on his cock as his pounding continued, massaging him just the way he enjoyed. In return, he rewarded you with the constant punishing of his cock head against your sweet spot to push you over the edge. His lips were attached to your neck as he added more hickeys to the earlier artistry and whispering more filth into your ear.

“Just like love, just let yourself go and make me feel good. I’ll take good care of you; make you cum all over my cock, pretty girl,” he purred as pushed his cock all the way to the hilt, making his balls slap louder against your clit.

“Finno…” you panted as your eyes rolled into your head. “Ngghh, I–I…can feel…”

“I know pretty girl, I know.” That was all he needed before placing the rest of his weight atop you, pinning you under him as he pushed you over the edge, making your cream all over his cock with the urge of not stopping.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Turgon — silently manhandles the fuck out of you when he wants another round and so you’re left there taking his pounding.

As soon as you came down from your orgasm, you felt your body floating among the clouds one minute, before it was being snatched away and brought back to earth by the sudden dragging of your body off the bed. Snapping your eyes open, you came face to face with Turgon as he rested your legs in the crooks of his elbows, spreading you open, before he stood at the foot of the bed with you suspended in his arms. Immediately your arms wrapped around his neck, while one of his hands slipped between your bodies to align his cock with your wet pussy. Without a proper warm up, he impaled you onto his cock, pushing all of him in you.

You were unable to scramble out of his hold since it was a warrior’s grip that kept you secure and impaled on his thick cock. All you could do was whine and tremble as the aftershocks of your orgasm made your pussy extra sensitive to his touch, and his disregards to easing you on his cock went out the window. In his mind, you were taking it fine a minute ago, so there was no need to be gentle.

“Turu–…káno…” you whined and looked down as he slowly, yet deeply, moved you up and down his cock, making you feel him all the way in your guts. Your eyes rolled and twitched while your hands slapped against his chest and back. He held no remorse for the push he was sending your body into since it was benefiting for him to feel and enjoy the pure tightness of your pussy squeezing and milking his cock.

“Hmm, relax and enjoy the feeling of my cock love. I’ll take good care of you,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and tossed his head back, relishing in the sensation of your walls massaging his cock and the warmth. “We’re far from finished for the night.”

“I don’t think I can–…can cum again. ‘M too sensitive,” you struggled, feeling the air being knocked out your lungs.

Smirking as he listened to your words, he bent down to kneel on the bed edge and rested you back against the soft mattress. With your legs still spread and the perfect sight of your pussy welcoming his cock, Turgon groaned and switched his pace to deep and body-shaking pounding. You could feel your skeleton rattling from the heavy and calculated thrusts he was sending your way.

“You’re just right to cum again for me, love. You’re doing so well, just give me one more and I’ll reward you.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon — sweetly asks you for one more round because he can’t get enough of you.

Nuzzling his face into your sweaty neck, he breathed in your scent and planted a litter of kisses to the same area. Instinctively, Argon’s arms encircled your waist and pulled you into his body with the purpose of dragging you on top on him. Unknowingly, your body easily followed as you were caught up in the rapture of the affections he gave so sweetly. His hands roamed your body, touching and groping your thighs, squeezing your ass, running his fingers up and down your back and sneakily cupping your breasts.

The sound of your laughter waffling through the air filled him with delight as he deepened the kiss and turned his light pecks into prying your lips apart to slip his tongue inside your mouth. The moment he gained entry, he tightened his arms around your waist and cupped your ass to rub his cock against your opening. Your wetness dripped onto his member and coated him in a delicious warmth which made him groan in your mouth.

“Can I slip inside? I want you again,” he pleaded against your lips as he broke the kiss. “Please, I’ll take control, just let me have you again.”

His whines and sweet pleads were like music to your ears the more he begged and rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and against your clit. Beads of his precum mixed with your slick the more he rubbed himself against you, and in return, you rocked your hips against him. Argon soft pants escaped his lips and fluttered through the air.

“You want to fuck my pussy, Káno? You want to feel me wrapped around your cock?” you purred against his lips and reached down to slip the head of his cock inside your entrance. The moment you did so, Argon lost all forms of self-restraint, planted his feet into the mattress and started pounding into your heat.

Both hands were gripping your ass as he pushed himself in and out your wet pussy, loving the inviting sensation that enveloped him with each thrust. All you were able to do was bow your head into his neck and hang on for the ride as he pounded into your rapidly and landed delicious slaps to your ass. Each squeak you released fuelled him to push himself deeper and make you see the stars. You were experiencing a plethora of pleasure when his mouth eventually joined in to latch onto your breasts and suckle.

His grunts reverberated throughout your body and mixed with your moans as he turned your insides in jello and remoulded it to his liking. The way his cock slid inside your pussy made you mewl and squirt all over his cock, pushing him to take you harder and to new heights as the evening turned into night.

Masterlist

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[identityflawed]

to every single arcane fan on the planet who is pissed at caitlyn for her actions in s2 act 1, please listen to me:

you are right to be pissed, that’s kind of the point, but hating her means you have to hate… like every other character. grief is a powerful factor in almost all of arcane and the motives of every character are based in something they’ve lost: whether it’s family, ideals, reputation, land, etc, they’re all dealing with loss and that causes them to act in morally-challenging ways. because that’s what grief does. a loss unthinkable causes actions unthinkable.

caitlyn joins the grief club a bit later than your other main characters, jinx and vi. but unlike jinx and vi, we actually see cait’s actions fresh off the block. the time cuts in act 1 only showed the clean-cut effects of losing their parents on the bridge, and then the new jinx and vi that occurred after the five (?) year time-skip after the explosion in the warehouse. you don’t see them when they’re full of raw grief and terror and illogical actions. you don’t see how severely vi was beaten in prison, how she must’ve lashed out in response to being taken away from her sister, how she continuously made the situation worse for herself because she felt like she deserved it, that she should’ve fought harder, been a better leader and a better sister. we don’t see jinx’s mental breakdowns afterwards, we don’t see how silco grooms her, how he uses her for his literal and emotional goals, how she’s shattered and how she pushes people away because of her own mistakes… but we’re seeing it with caitlyn, we’re seeing the rawness that comes with all of it, and we’re seeing how that impacts the narrative and other characters. people who haven’t grieved don’t seem to understand that it is like containing a storm, and you cannot do it by yourself, all of the time, and sometimes it gets out to other people if they press hard enough.

arcane is very cyclical in the way that all characters follow the same path, over and over again. caitlyn and jinx are following narrative paths, especially when you compare ambessa to silco. i do wonder if jinx knows that silco stabbed vander, that he was the one who ruined everything, hired the goons to jump them and scared her into dropping their haul from jayce’s workshop, etc. i wonder if the reason she continues to spiral is because she doesn’t know, and if caitlyn will get the same treatment with ambessa’s betrayals and her hand in the attack on the memorial.

whatever the case, you cannot defend jinx and hate caitlyn. they are not the same, i understand, but they are both products of massive grief that they blame themselves heavily for.

back to the idea of grief being a storm, because the most common gripe i see with caitlyn is how she promised vi she wouldn’t change, and then changed within a day. this isn’t… this is not an unreasonable course of action from caitlyn, given the situation and how she’s feeling. she is like… at most, a couple weeks out after her mother’s death. it is still an incredibly fresh wound, and she is sort of hinging her entire self-worth and identity on her ability to make the shot that resolves this feeling inside of her. she doesn’t get to make that shot, and fresh off of that miss, that realization that the fight is going to be prolonged and that vi is not as unattached to jinx as she says she is…

both of them made strange promises in that tunnel that they didn’t quite keep. how can you blame vi or caitlyn for picking their family over the girl they met less than a month ago? isha was a wildcard in that fight, but they both knew that caitlyn wouldn’t actually miss the shot. vi didn’t flinch when caitlyn shot 2 inches behind her, vi didn’t flinch when cait shot the gun out of isha’s hand, or the finger from jinx’s, etc, etc. it wasn’t about missing, it was the realization for vi that she can’t just cut herself off from her sister (especially when there’s signs that powder is still in there), that it is much easier said than done. and for cait, it was the realization that vi is not with her. that vi never changed.

that’s kind of the issue. vi didn’t want caitlyn to change, but caitlyn wanted vi to change, and they’re both in situations that demand change and stagnancy, respectively. see what i’m saying? does any of this make sense?

[inawickedlittletown]

Sooo I started to read other articles. I didn't after reading the ones that came out right after the episode that justifiably got everyone upset.

This one from tv insider had Tim saying this:

Moving on to Buck and Tommy’s breakup, talk about your approach to it. Why was Tommy sure that Buck would break his heart?

Tommy’s older and Buck is very new to this, and whether Tommy was correct or not, I think what he felt like was exactly what he said: I’m not your last, I’m your first, which is a special thing to be, but as Tommy says, it doesn’t usually end up being the same thing. And I think based on what we know of Buck, he’s maybe not wrong. Buck’s a little impulsive when he’s feeling a certain kind of way. He’s like, move on in, bring your couch. So I just think because Tommy’s a little older and wiser or maybe at some level he feels like he doesn’t deserve Buck, I don’t know. But I think he accurately diagnosed Buck. Buck’s still figuring himself out, and boy, that would be quite risky to move in with that guy as much as you would love to.

That does seem to be Buck’s go-to, which isn’t the best.

Exactly.

Are we going to see Buck single for a significant period of time now? Is he trying to figure out what he wants really out of a relationship?

Yeah, I think that’s right. As Tommy said, you’re still figuring yourself out, and his options have increased by 50 percent of the population. So knowing Buck, that’s going to be choice overload. He’s got to navigate that with a little self-awareness.

--

So they definitely planned for this. That's what this reads like...they wanted to break them up so that they could send Buck through a period of exploration. Tim says everything Oliver said here in much nicer terms. His view of Buck is so...Idk, it's like he sees Buck as a kid that still doesn't know what he wants. And he decided to put that view right into Tommy's head too. It's a little jarring I guess but this show...has it ever been consistent?

What sucks is that 8x05 was written like they were doing so well. And then right off the back with 8x06 we have warning signs in the date scene with the girl that approaches Buck and how Tommy sort of shrugs off Buck checking her out. I really do wonder where hot waiter fit into this and I'm so glad we didn't see Tommy like checking hot waiter out or something. But I guess that scene was there to sow the seeds. We have Buck spiraling because of the Abby thing and we have Tommy maybe not realizing but reinforcing for himself that he's a stepping stone for Buck and being okay with it in the status quo.

The way that Tim speaks about Buck asking Tommy to move in, he makes it seem like Buck is just barreling in without thought...like if they went through with it Tommy might be proven right. But then what is the point of the scene with Josh where Buck is right on the cusp of an "I love you" just to then be like no actually Tommy knows how this ends and he can read Buck and knows they're not forever. But Tommy is not a mind reader.

Where there is hope is in that Tim doesn't outwardly say anything about Tommy being gone for good. As someone else pointed out the Lou interviews were done by buddie journalists with a bias so there is a question to how much that colored what we got and why they were so determined to close the door fully. Also...why did we get exit interviews in the first place for a character that only had three episodes...it's so odd.

The writers made a point of leaving this open. Do I think we'll get Tommy back any time soon. No. But after the doom and gloom and the time to mourn this a bit I want to be positive and there is really no knowing. Tim says he thinks Buck will be single for a while...okay fine...picture that being the rest of this season.

Buck won't just jump into another relationship...and Oliver gets his Buck slut era 2.0...what if S9 brings back Tommy? What if this is the long game...or at least the thing they can have in their back pocket if Lou is available later on to come back. But that's not something they can promise or that they can commit to and Lou isn't on contract clearly and Oliver wouldn't know if that's the plan...hell even Tim probably doesn't know if they'll do that. Or I'm giving him too much credit because as we've seen this season storylines have been rushed to close up at breakneck speeds so it would be an anomaly for him to prolong something like this.

All this to say, showing the network and Tim that bucktommy matters to a lot of people and that Tommy matters...it may just make a difference.

[justchillandshipit]

Allow me to take a moment here. Tim just acknowledged couch theory?

Moving on to Buck and Tommy’s breakup, talk about your approach to it. Why was Tommy sure that Buck would break his heart?

Tommy’s older and Buck is very new to this, and whether Tommy was correct or not, I think what he felt like was exactly what he said: I’m not your last, I’m your first, which is a special thing to be, but as Tommy says, it doesn’t usually end up being the same thing. And I think based on what we know of Buck, he’s maybe not wrong. Buck’s a little impulsive when he’s feeling a certain kind of way. He’s like, move on in, bring your couch. So I just think because Tommy’s a little older and wiser or maybe at some level he feels like he doesn’t deserve Buck, I don’t know. But I think he accurately diagnosed Buck. Buck’s still figuring himself out, and boy, that would be quite risky to move in with that guy as much as you would love to.

---

We have a couch reference.

---

Somewhat unrelated but relevant:

I also think that I have finally caught up on all the articles. In every article, someone says Eddie is straight. I want to say about four articles have a reference or a mention of straight Eddie, and there is one in-canon statement from Eddie. So what do we think about that? I instinctively want to say that to have that many denials is sus, but I also have to acknowledge that the question was asked before the response was offered. I honestly don't know what to believe when it comes to the show's direction. I'm still here though and sticking with my original plan to give them until the end of Seasn 8 to move Eddie out of the closet. I will not accept the demise of this ship a moment sooner. It doesn't help that actors are excellent liars. Oliver always makes me second guess myself. lol For now, I'm still here and still clowning.

Other things to consider in favor of Buddie:

There was one article from TVInsider where the interviewer reminded the reader that Eddie said he wanted a beard. Most of us know the gay coding of that word, and that was promptly followed by the Priest pointing out that Eddie was wearing a mask/disguise. This is all within the same conversation where Eddie assumed the Priest was hitting on him, and he called himself straight.

I'm also low-key wondering about the possible conflict between Eddie and Buck coming up. I need more info on that. What?? These two haven't had beef since Buck sued Bobby in Season 3 and Buck and Eddie argued in the grocery store. We all know how Eddie served c#nt like a professional in that fight. Eddie ended up forgiving Buck soon afterward, but Buck was still apologizing four episodes later. lol

I saw in another post where someone compared the image of Eddie in the confessional with the image of Eddie seeing Buck through the peephole of his door. (Hint, both looked like confessional images.) That has to be deliberate.

Tim's comment above referenced Tommy and a couch in a similar context to Eddie and Buck's conversation when Buck said his last few couches came with girlfriends, and Eddie corrected him to say his girlfriends came with couches.

@stagefoureddiediaz 's color theory is still proving accurate as well.

Updates

Buck looking less than thrilled at seeing Laker tickets. Tommy tells him he can use the gift with Eddie and Buck perking up at the idea, only for Tommy to say nope. Joking. (On a second watch, I think I read too much in to this one, but I'm keeping it on the list as very loose interpretation.)

Oliver admits that Buck looked Eddie up and down when he opened the door and knew something was going on with him, but then the whole sit in silence thing. (I know the breakup was on Buck's mind, but I swear he looked like he was trying not to think about Eddie being half naked beside him.)

Also, Eddie was half naked just sitting beside him. I can't help but think of them sitting there like that. Buck and Eddie are going to the same place, but they are taking totally different paths to get there. At some point, they are going to meet each other face to face and be like, you're here.

(I saw a theory. You always have to take these with a grain of salt, but I can't deny the theory sounds good. there have been a lot of parallels that are relevant for Buck and Eddie with the exception of Eddie's shooting.) I did read one interview, it may have been TVInsider, where the interviewer said they hoped Buck wouldn't be in danger. Oliver hinted that Buck was always putting himself in those situations. I think it might be a hint for what is to come. Also, if Buck is putting himself in dangerous situations again, this might be something that has Eddie angry with Buck. I think there is a lot of room for this theory. We'll have to wait and see on that one.

In a previous interview, Oliver told us there was an upcoming scene where Buck and Eddie sat in silence and that it was a testament to their friendship. In the latest interview in Variety, he talks about the scene again but this time he says "that it speaks volumes about their relationship that they could be going through things and handling it so differently but still be there for each other with little need for words. (This is the same interview where Oliver admits that Buck looked Eddie up and down.) At the end of this question, he reiterates that it speaks volumes that they were in different places and could still be there for each other. He says, "I think it really speaks volumes to the strength of their bond."

[lukola92]

Sorry this is a long one! Honestly I’m at the point where I truly don’t care if Nic and Luke ever get together I’m just more concerned about them as people. I mean we have practically seen Luke fade into obscurity and Nicola I feel like her vibe is definitely off lately, I think she’s really struggling with the fame thing. I just personally wish that from the start of all of this Nic and Luke had set more hard and fast lines regarding their relationship. People say well she did say they were friends so you guys are the crazy ones for thinking different, but no. In this context when they were being asked directly about whether they were more than friends the appropriate answer should’ve been “we are JUST friends.” But instead every time it was a damn thesis statement about their relationship, Nic is an English major she knows how to use her words. And frankly even if they were saying they were friends, their behavior was completely unhinged and made everyone think differently. In the past, other leads of bridgerton have made it crystal clear that they are nothing more than friends. I don’t say this to blame them truly, I feel like there’s probably accountability to be taken all around. But imo this could’ve been approached better, if people were clear that Nic and Luke were just friends and nothing more and they made that clear and had boundaries, Luke wouldn’t have been so shit on bc people thought he chose A over Nic and the reaction to Jake likely wouldn’t have been so crazy either. I’ve seen a lot of people lately growing frustrated and confused, mainly from Nic since she has been out and about while Luke has been silent. I feel very conflicted because on one end I feel like they played into the shipping (although they probably didn’t know how out of hand it would get) and on the other hand I really give them grace, this is new to both of them and they’re just trying their best. Nic and Luke both deserve to be happy whether it’s with each other or other people and they deserve to have the freedom to live their lives without their every move being dissected. I just think people need to think twice before saying something and be kinder please we don’t want them to completely disappear!

I think that, they didn't pretend anything at all because everything was true, so, consequently, they tried in every way to hide everything, for me, staging two completely identical stories with two younger people J and A. I'm still here thinking about that night of the glamorous event, the voice was L's, the hands was L's .. and since we realized it, then this stuff about J in NY broke out to distract us, everything is going badly because the thing degenerated because of the paps and so, now N is completely vulnerable and doesn't know what to do .. L continues to stay still to protect both her and himself

[crimsonwolf715]

Death Will Do Us Part

(POV Bruce) 

Family dinner is chaotic as ever. Bruce smiles as his family eats and argues about whether or not to bet on the next villain to get out of Arkham. Of course, he doesn’t agree with the idea of placing bets on that, but it isn’t hurting anybody. Unless they break somebody out to win the bet, but that isn’t likely. The house shakes and everyone practically jumps to their feet. They can see vines through the roads outside, so everyone heads down to the Batcave. Bruce goes over to the computer and puts a call through to Commissioner Gordon. 

“What’s the situation, Gordon?” Bruce asks. 

“Everyone’s out of Arkham. We’re completely overpowered,” Gordon answers. 

“We’re on our way.” 

“Thanks.” 

His kids are collecting their gear and getting ready. 

“Did all of you hear that?” Bruce asks. 

“Yep, everybody’s out of Arkham,” Jason answers. “Pretty sure we jinxed it.” 

“Do we believe in that?” Cass asks. 

“I don’t believe in that,” Damian replies. 

“I don’t either,” Tim says. 

“I doubt we did,” Dick says. “But let’s just deal with this quickly. I have something to attend to later.” 

“Like a date?” Jason asks. 

“Like none of your business.” 

“It’s definitely a date,” Tim says. 

“Focus,” Bruce demands. 

“Don’t worry, we’re still getting ready as fast as we can. Speaking of which, I’m heading out,” Jason says. 

They all head out and start taking on the inmates of Arkham. Bruce gets a steady stream of updates over comms that his kids are dealing with inmates and he updates him when he takes them out as well. 

“Ivy’s causing too many problems. I have the building she’s in,” Barbara says. 

“Nice of you to join us, Oracle,” Dick’s replies. 

“Shut up. My setup got destroyed so I had to get to the Batcave to assist.” 

She gives the location. Bruce looks at his location. 

“I’m close.” 

“I’m close too, so I’ll come assist,” Jason says. 

The two make it to the building and it’s definitely a floral place. Jason and Bruce have to cut through greenery to get into the building at all. Poison Ivy gives them a hard time, but nothing the two of them can’t manage together. 

(POV Jason) 

“We should get out of here, this building’s unstable,” Bruce says. 

Jason nods, so the two head towards the roof with Ivy. 

“If I can’t win, you two won’t make it out of here alive,” Ivy says. 

Vines sprout up and start exploding, rocking the whole building. The floor cracks and Bruce shoves Jason to the part of the floor that isn’t cracked. 

“Dad!” 

Jason watches as the floor crumbles away under Bruce’s feet. He lunges to grab Bruce’s hand and barely misses the mark. Bruce tries to catch himself on one of the other floors, but fails. He falls onto a large piece of a floor, which impales him. 

“Dad!” Jason cries out. 

“What’s going on?” Barbara asks. “Why are Bruce’s suit’s stats bottoming out?” 

Jason pulls his helmet off and throws it. 

“Jason?” 

“I’m fine,” Jason says through gritted teeth. “But Batman isn’t. Delete the feed from my helmet without looking at it.” 

“What?” Barbara asks. 

“Delete the damn feed from my helmet without looking at it,” Jason demands. “Barbara, do it.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sending medics to your location.” 

A pause and Jason can almost hear his father stop breathing. 

“Jason.” 

“I know. Let the others know and I’ll get him to a safe location.” 

He turns his comm off and grips the floor. He spots Ivy, who got thrown away from the two during the explosions, but seems fine. He gets up and she looks terrified. She starts trying to get away and he shoots her hands and feet. She cries out and starts cursing Jason. 

“I should kill you for still breathing,” Jason growls. “But I’m better than that now. You are gonna pay for killing him, but you deserve to live and suffer for it.” 

Jason drags her out of the building by her hair and officers are heading towards the location. 

“Red Hood?” 

Jason throws her over to the officers. “You might wanna cuff her.” 

He turns and heads back into the building. He walks over to Bruce’s limp body and he feels an overwhelming amount of anger. He stuffs it down and as gently as he can gets Bruce out of the building. After getting him into the Batmobile, he turns his comm back on. 

“He’s in the Batmobile. Send him home, Oracle.” 

The Batmobile closes and speeds off. Jason heads back to continue taking out inmates, turning his comm off so he doesn’t have to hear everyone’s reaction. 

{POV Cass} 

Cass is searching for villains when she comes across several people tied to a lamppost by their feet. She throws a batarang to cut the rope on the first person and catches them. When she does, she sees that the person’s eyes are wide and they aren’t breathing. Cass checks their pulse and realizes that they’re gone. 

Smoke starts spilling out all around her, so she tries to find the source. A metal orb with straw on it. Cass goes to grab something from her utility belt when someone takes her legs out from underneath her. Batman’s towering over her, completely decayed. She backs away and Batman crumbles to pieces. She pulls a mask on, searching for more threats in the suddenly dark world. Gotham’s been replaced by a metal room. 

“The darkness is where you belong. Killing people for someone who will never appreciate your efforts. They’ll only expect more out of you.” That voice belongs to her father. 

 Her father comes forward and she stumbles back. She starts searching her belt but can’t find any of the things she usually keeps in there. She closes her eyes and tries to focus, blood rushing in her ears. Her father’s getting closer, sword raised for a fatal strike. She jabs herself with what she hopes is the fear toxin cure and kicks her father away. 

Slowly, the world returns to what it should be. A grimy Gotham street with Scarecrow not far from her, getting up. Cass attacks Scarecrow, who tries to run. After a mostly one sided fight, Cass takes out Scarecrow. She ties him up and heads towards a police checkpoint to drop him off, still feeling the aftereffects of the fear toxin. 

{POV Damian} 

“Please help us!” An officer shouts when Damian drops down. 

“What is it you require assistance with?” Damian asks. “There’s nothing going on here.” 

“Goons are running loose in this area and Killer Croc keeps popping up and taking officers out,” the officer answers. 

“Does he?” 

Damian unsheathes his sword. He pulls up the manhole cover and stands by it. Once the goons come back, Damian starts taking them out with expert ease. He kicks the first goon into the sewer grate and can hear the audible crunch sound of Croc eating the goon. He continues to beat up the goons and then kick them in the sewer until Croc comes barging out of the sewer. 

“There you are,” Damian says. “I was starting to think that you were too much of a bitch to come and get me.” 

Croc charges at Damian and he dodges, slashing at Croc as Croc passes him. 

While the blade is mostly blunt, Damian can still easily kill someone with it. Croc would need more force and a pressure point, but Damian’s goal isn’t to kill him. It’s to incapacitate him. 

Croc goes headfirst into a lamppost and Damian snorts. Croc regains his senses quickly, then rushes Damian again. Damian and Croc go back and forth until Damian picks up the manhole cover and throws it like a frisbee. It hits Croc in the head, knocking him unconscious. After instructing the officers on what to do from there, Damian leaves the area. 

“Croc is accounted for,” Damian says. “I’m heading to the next one.”  

{POV Jason} 

“Am I close to any more villains?” Jason asks. 

“Freeze has been reported about a block from you,” Barbara answers. “You sure you’re good to keep going?” 

“I’m fine, Oracle. Give me the location.” 

She sends it and after looking at it, Jason heads in the direction. He walks into the courthouse Freeze is supposed to be in and it feels like the temperature has dropped at least ten degrees. 

“Well, Freeze is definitely here.” 

He walks into each of the courtrooms and barely manages to dodge a blast from Freeze’s gun. 

“You’ll never defeat me, Bat-Brat!” Freeze shouts. 

Jason pulls out his gun and starts shooting the dome around Freeze’s head. 

“What are you doing?” Freeze demands, ducking behind something. 

“Unless you wanna die here, you’re gonna surrender quietly,” Jason says. “I’m far past the mood to be lenient with you lot.” 

“What happened?” Freeze asks. “Doesn’t Batman normally keep you on a tight leash as his wild-child?” 

Jason pulls out a smoke grenade and throws it over the desk Freeze is hiding behind. Freeze runs out from behind the desk and Jason dropkicks him into a wall. Smoke starts spewing out of the grenade and Freeze looks confused. 

“All my grenades look the same to other people,” Jason offers to cure Freeze’s confusion. “I’m the only one that knows which one is which. So unless you wanna test your luck to see if I’ll blow you to hell, you might wanna surrender.” 

Freeze unclicks a freeze grenade and throws it at the approaching Jason. Jason kicks it away from him and beside a little frost on his shoes, is unaffected. 

“I’ll surrender,” Freeze says, putting his hands up. 

“Good.” 

Jason pulls Freeze up and handcuffs him. 

Even though it hurts to say, Jason says, “Batman doesn’t keep a leash on me.”  

(POV Dick) 

“I think you’re the only one with villains left,” Barbara says. “Everyone else is accounted for.” 

“Well, that’s nice,” Dick replies sarcastically. 

He’s having a hard time pulling his punches with the emotions flooding through his system, but he manages. 

Can’t deal with this right now. Dad’s dead and I’m here dodging being shot by two people that should be in a mental hospital.  

“The others are on their way.” 

“Beautiful. Everyone can watch me have a mental breakdown.” 

Dick’s fighting Penguin and Two-Face, who have decided that it is best to temporarily get over their issues so that they can beat him. They’re not doing very well even though they are technically getting along. Dick’s just doing flips around them, literally. Penguin tries to keep up with him, moving and shooting, but he just ends up falling off the roof. 

Dick throws down a net so Penguin doesn’t die on impact, but then turns his attention back to Two-Face. Two-Face shoots at him until he runs out of bullets. Dick runs forward to strike him down when Two-Face shoots Dick’s leg and his leg goes completely numb. Dick stumbles and falls. 

“Had this little beauty waiting for me to try. I’ve wanted to use it for a while, but never found the right moment. Pays off to go and get gear before engaging, doesn’t it?” Two-Face asks. “Alright, do we deliver the kill shot? Let’s flip the coin.” 

Dick turns towards his leg and starts trying to beat life back into it. 

“Ooo, luck is not on your side, Nightwing. Goodbye.” 

“Grayson!” 

Dick turns in just enough time to see Damian take a shot meant for him. It would have killed Dick instantly. Dick attempts to get up but his leg won’t let him. Damian stumbles into him and Dick wraps an arm around him so he doesn’t go anywhere. He grabs Damian’s sword and throws it. It goes through Two-Face. Dick turns his attention to Damian, who’s attempting to stop the bleeding chest wound. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Barbara, we need medical attention right now. Damian’s injured.” 

“It’s on the way,” Barbara says. 

“You’re gonna be fine, buddy.”

(POV Tim) 

Tim jumps onto the roof of the building where Damian and Dick’s trackers are and finds a horror scene in front of him. Damian and Dick are covered in blood and Two-Face is dead not far from them. Tears start pouring down Damian’s face as he clings to Dick. While Tim doesn’t want to, he can’t seem to look away. Dick’s crying and trying to soothe Damian. Tim can feel Jason and Cass’ presence beside him, but he can’t look at them. 

“Ssh. It’s gonna be okay, Dami. I swear, everything is okay.” 

A pause in sobs and the silence is broken by Damian quietly asking, “You love me, right?” 

Dick nods. “Of course. I love you. Everyone does. I love you so much.” 

Damian’s sobs resume and persist for a little longer, then stop altogether. 

“No, Dami. No, not you too. Dami, stay with me please.” 

Jason walks over to Tim, who’s frozen in place. Jason pulls him into a hug that Tim doesn't even attempt to fight. 

“He can’t be gone…” Tim mutters. “They both can’t be…” 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “I’m really sorry.” 

Jason goes to move Tim to arm’s length and Tim clings to him. Jason rubs Tim’s back as Dick’s cries for Damian ring in his ears. After a while, Jason finally convinces Tim that they need to go. That the crisis is over for them and that they need to get home. 

Tim watches Jason walk over and puts a hand on Dick’s shoulder. 

“No, no. You can’t take him.” 

“I’m not gonna take him, but we need to go.” 

Cass takes Tim’s hand and the two of them hold hands, silently supporting each other. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

“On his way to the Batcave. I’m really sorry, Dickie.” 

Dick stands up slowly, holding Damian’s body like a baby. 

“It’s not your fault, Jay. It’s Ivy’s. We should…” He chokes up and looks away from Damian. “We need to get back to the Batcave. Make sure that Tim and Cass get there, okay?” 

Jason nods. After stomping some machine by Two-Face to pieces, Dick takes off with Damian. Jason turns towards Tim and Cass, the three of them coming to a silent agreement. They head to the Batcave and are met by Barbara and Alfred. 

“Dick here yet?” Tim asks. 

Barbara shakes her head. Cass, Tim, and Jason all hug Alfred, who looks like he might break down. Dick comes in and bypasses all of them to put Damian on the table beside Bruce. He sits between Damian and Bruce. 

“Come on. You all need to get cleaned up and taken care of,” Alfred says. 

So they head upstairs. Dick and Alfred join them not long after. 

(POV Dick) 

Dick planned the funeral, refusing to let anyone assist him. Whether it was so nobody else had to deal with the event or him, no one knew. The event was only for family and close friends. Many of the Justice League members showed up to show support. Dick stayed in the back during the event and after giving his speech, didn’t say anything to anyone. 

Since then, he’s locked himself in his room in the manor. Just about everyone’s tried to come in and talk, but he ends up running them all off. Tim knocks on the open door and Dick barely glances at him before returning his attention to his hands which are planted in his lap. 

“Did you come in here to talk me into feeling better? To tell me to pull myself together? How am I supposed to pull myself together when my father is dead? When my baby brother died in my arms while waiting for medical support that never arrived?” Dick shouts. 

Tim doesn’t flinch or leave the room like the others did. He walks over, sits down, and wraps his arms around his oldest brother. Dick breaks down sobbing and the two end up hugging for a while. Dick breaks away, walking over to his closet. Dick walks over to his closet and digs around until he finds his box of keepsakes. He holds it out and Tim takes it. 

“Feel free to keep it as long as you’d like. You can share it with the other two if you want to.” 

“What is it exactly?” Tim asks. 

“Things I keep here. Pictures, items, writings about memories. I figured that you’d enjoy looking at some of the nicer ones,” Dick answers. “I won’t be able to even think too hard about them for a while, so you guys might as well.” 

“Okay, I’ll share it with the others.” 

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “Thanks, buddy.” 

“Do you need space?” 

“Yeah, a little. I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Dick watches Tim leave the room and he collapses on his bed. 

How am I supposed to live with the guilt that it should have me? That Damian’s supposed to be alive right now?

[herawell]

.

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[fingertipsmp3]

Last night’s dream was the first one I’ve had in a long time where I wanted to fall back asleep and stay in it/experience it again

[darnell-la]

Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?

note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.

The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.

He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.

“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.

The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”

Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.

“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.

“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?

She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.

“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.

“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.

“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.

“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.

“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.

Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.

[starryjake]

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

-

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[salemlunaa]

THE ACT OF SHIFTING CONSCIOUSNESS IS OWED TO YOU ❃

No matter what your aims are, shifting is for you and will always be easy.....

There are many things people can do with the void state/the state pure consciousness, and no matter what you are doing you need to know that shifting is owed to you. And in my asks and dms it’s made clear that a lot of you don’t know the different forms that shifting can come in

So before i get into it, Let’s get acquainted with the different ways you can utilise the void in terms of shifting!!…

Standard shifting

A person who will shift with the intention of coming back to where they are now aka their base or current reality. Being this person, you may have multiple drs you want to go to and will have “safe words” which can bring you back to your cr when you want

example: having a winx dr, having a kpop dr and a nepo baby dr at the same time, frequenting between each one, or which ever one is their “main” dr

Permashifting

A person who has one reality that they want to shift to, forever, perma-shifting= permanent shift, you can still have ties to your old reality and have memories from it but ultimately you can’t go back unless you tried to by shifting again, which wouldn’t be that much of a hassle because you still have some recollection of your old reality

example: Leaving your old reality while still having some recollection of the life you live before. You live this life recognising that you have shifted to get here and you are still somewhat tied to your old reality

Respawning

Being this person, you will have one reality that you live in forever. It’s kinda in the name, you reset, as soon as you shift consciousness to you desired life, it was always your life, you will cut ties with whoever you were before and live this way forever. A lot of people script a time stamp in which they forget everything, you will have pre prepared memories from birth up until the day the present day. You are expecting to live the rest of your life in this reality.

a smart example from a dm from one of my consenting mutuals: “I’ll shift there and it will be 02:00 I’ll be all excited about the fact that I shifted, have time to give my success story and bawl my eyes out from sheer happiness, and around 4 hours in (about 06:00 ) I will forget everything and fully cut ties with who I used to be and the life I used to live”

I want you to resonate with one and apply your knowledge where you need to because shifting consciousness is owed to you. Whether you’re doing it for a small while, going to multiple realities or one big shift of your consciousness cutting ties with where you were before. It doesn’t matter, it is owed to you and it is easier than breathing.

If you have a conscious mind, which yes you do or you wouldn’t be reading this, then you have a subconscious mind, and that means that shifting consciousness is a basic ability for you.

There is no such thing as something too big, one form of shifting isn’t “easier” or “harder” than another so whatever you wanna do, don’t be scared, you’ve got this!! There is a reason you’re here. Your subconscious mind knew you didn’t deserve all that you went through and all that you are going through and it led you here. Because of the horrible way humans have been conditioned, we live in a world where people mock shifting which is ironic , as it is a basic ability just like walking and talking, except it uses the mind and not the physical body. I want you to think of your desired reality/realities, whether you are thinking of 12 or 4 or 1, you need to understand that your desired life already exists, you already have it. It’s not a dream, you’re god, you give life to all that you touch with your mind.

I don’t think you really understand so I will say this again:

what you see: script + void/“I AM” state ➯ my dream life is finally real, me and my physical body are finally in my dream reality

you see yourself and some small part of some bigger process, when in fact, you are everything and everything is instant

what actually happens: i’ve created my dream life in my head ➯ as god i give life to everything my i touch with my mind, there for it is real

it’s an immediate chain of events, not a process. stop relying on the I AM state to give you something you already have, the void state helps you shift consciousness to a reality that is already there, and nothing more than that , it doesn’t create, you have already created. you have the power, the void is just a state of pure consciousness that helps you shift your awareness to which ever reality you wish to go to.

side note: As a respawner, all are welcome here, especially my fellow respawners and my permashifters (it’s nice to see both communities grow as i never used to see posts for permashifting or respawning)

no matter what you intend to do with the information you have learned on this app, your desired reality is yours, it was owed to you the second you thought of it

so stop doing nothing about the information you have, you don’t have to struggle in life, throw the teachings of society out the door and realise you can have all that you want, whether that be 1 dream life or 20!! LOCK IN MY LOVES

GET EXCITED ABOUT YOUR NEW LIFE/LIVES, ITS OWED TO YOU!! 🎆💋

[pedrospatch]

call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[vxnuslogy]

— retail therapy. ft sunday

— warnings: slight angst if you squint hard enough

— author's note: self-indulgent stellaron hunter sunday after playing the new tb quest. ~2.4k words.

“is this…” sunday gestures with his hands, “also part of our script?”

you let out a laugh. balancing firefly and kafka’s shopping bags in your hands, you only shook your head at the angel-like man with an amused smile on your lips. 

“no, it is not.” kafka was browsing the dress sections with keen interest, blade was peering over silver wolf’s shoulder watching her as she played yet another video game, and firefly was looking over the rack of new hats. “but it’s a good change of pace. you all deserve to relax after such a hard mission.”

“i don’t think this really fits my criteria of relaxation, [name].” you only laugh at sunday’s sigh. offering him a small pat on the back and dragging him by his sleeve to where kafka was beckoning you over. “you’ll get used to it eventually. next time, we’ll do something that fits your criteria of relaxation.”

the silver haired man only shook his head. but deep down you knew he was enjoying himself – the wings behind his ears often betrayed him by openly showing what he actually felt. every now and then, they would flutter and puff up whenever silver wolf drags him to another section with new games or when he tries to deny kafka’s attempt at getting him a new shirt or coat (after his wings fluttered a bit too hard at this one coat kafka bought it immediately).

“what do you think?” you ask as you put down the bags that've been weighing down on your arms. “about us, i mean, are you adjusting well?”

you notice sunday’s hesitation, you always have when it comes to him – he often wonders how wise and knowledgeable you are to know how he felt. a hum left your lips as you sat down on one of the offered chairs at the shoe section while blade reached to the top shelf to get what firefly was pointing at. 

“i…” he starts, voice just above whisper. “don’t know.”

another hum escapes your lips. scooting over to make space for him and patting the space, urging him to sit besides you. sunday does, though reluctantly, sit beside you as you watch silver wolf giggle at firefly’s struggle to walk in heels. blade’s hands hover over her figure as she stomps her way over to the shorter girl to pinch her cheeks to which she protested.

“they’re nice people.” you say, gaze never leaving them. “the galaxies may say otherwise, but they're truly the kindest people i have ever met.”

“i… apologize.”

you raise a brow at him. “what’s with the apology?” 

“i have only ever thought of the five of you as bad people.” sunday admits with a heavy heart. eyes finding much entertainment on his gloves that you had gifted. “i… do not know how to act around you all, when i’ve only ever heard bad things about you. it feels wrong to suddenly be thrusted into your already tight knit group.”

you only hum in understanding. hand coming to caress the top of his head when you stood up when blade called you over.

“we understand, mr. sunday.” you gave him a small smile as you picked up the many shopping bags you had. “these sorts of things take time, just take it one step at a time.”

he only nods. and like the gentleman that he is, steals away the heavier bags in your hands with an awkward smile.

—

“do you miss the person you were before you joined?”

you wonder if blade has ever mentioned to sunday how you loved thought evoking questions like the one he had just asked. recently, the two have been paired up a lot for missions - you’re still on the fence on whether it's a good or bad thing, but you’re leaning more towards the former. you only gave a thoughtful hum as you spooned another scoop of ice cream into your mouth.

kafka had grown bored of the dresses and shoes and wanted to get something to eat. now here you were, outside a quaint little ice cream shop as blade orders for everyone - silver wolf and firefly hiding behind the man like two kids. 

sunday was sitting in front of you, laughing silently after catching a glimpse of the two tables across from you being filled with your shopping bags. you laughed as well and when your eyes met his, sunday quickly averted his gaze towards his own cold treat.

“do i ever miss the person i was before i joined…” you echo his question. “sometimes, in the middle of the night whenever i’m feeling a bit too sentimental, i do.” a fond expression was probably present on your face as sunday hummed in acknowledgement. “i miss the comfort of my bed as i scrolled endlessly on my phone. or how a certain little creature in red would bring me tea and biscuits when i let time pass in my little workshop. i miss them every chance i get.”

yes, every chance you get, you reminisce over your past life. missing your father’s quick temper, your brother’s indifference, your mother’s absence; you missed them all, despite all their flaws and the bitterness that swam in your heart. and of course, how could you ever forget your little escapades in different planets with a seasoned adventurer and his vast knowledge of animation and travel or the little waddling of a conductor as they scold you nearly not making it back. you missed them all very dearly.

“what about you, mr. sunday? do you miss penacony?”

“would it be wrong of me… if i said no…?”

admittedly, that was the exact opposite of what you thought his answer would be.

the six of you were now in the car with you and blade driving (firefly suggested you all take two cars so you won’t have to be squeezed together in one). silver wolf was fast asleep at the back seat, using the many shopping bags as her makeshift pillows. you and sunday sat at the front, keeping a close eye on blade’s red car in front of you as you pondered what you would say next.

“i don’t think that’s the whole truth, but it’s not an entire lie either.” was your only response. from the corner of your eye, you see sunday take off his gloves and lay them on his lap. “would you like to talk about it, mr. sunday? i’m quite the exceptional listener you know.”

sunday laughed at your jesting and that made the breath you were unconsciously holding escape you. 

“penacony, as beautiful as it was,” he fiddles with his fingers as his wings came to cover half his face - a habit you picked up on whenever he started to open up. “it was simply too much for me.”

staying silent and when sunday looked at you, you simply nod. urging him to continue.

“the flashy city lights, the ever echoing of upbeat music, to many, penacony is a paradise where nothing could go wrong,” sunday sags in his seat, “but i often wonder if it ever gets too much for them. even though i have lived my entire life in the land of festivities, i could not bring myself to enjoy the thrill and joy it offered.”

“no matter how many times i bury these feelings of guilt, they always resurface whenever…”

“whenever?” you slowly try to coax it out of him. like how a parent would to their child.

“they always resurface whenever… i find myself enjoying your company too much.” you try to hide your shock when you take a right turn. “is it truly alright for me to just leave all of penacony behind? as overwhelming it was, it offered a roof over my head. food on my table. a family.”

soft patters of rain as small droplets of water cascaded down the now slightly fogged up windows of your car. “would you like my personal opinion on this matter, mr. sunday?” the car skids to a stop as the traffic light glows red. sunday only nodded solemnly. “you have every right to not miss penacony.”

his gold eyes were furrowed in distraught. gaze boring into the side of your head as the car started moving again. “yes, penacony offered a roof over your head and food on your table, but everyone has that right. even us, stellaron hunters, the most wanted criminals across star systems, have the right to have a home. did penacony ever feel like home to you, mr. sunday?”

“no. not it has not.” sunday replies after a few moments of silence.

“just because a roof is over your head and food is served on your table doesn’t automatically make it a home.” your eyes hardened, grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. “a home is supposed to make you feel safe, not obligated to repay their so-called “kindness”. you don’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to come back to the place that had caused you pain.”

“and what of my sister, robin?” he suddenly counters. you knew from little snippets from kafka that robin was a bit of a sensitive topic with him. “am i really allowed to enjoy this new life of mine knowing that she’s still in the family’s clutches?” his voice hardened, but at the same time it quivered and broke. “what right do i have to this newfound happiness when she could be struggling? for aeon’s sake,” he messily pushes his hair away from his face. you try not to focus on the stray tears that fell from his eyes, “i’m her older brother, her protector. she should be the one here, spending time with you and enjoying the life she’s always wanted.”

“miss robin is destined for greatness and a happy life,” stopping at another traffic light, you look over to sunday, “but so are you. i do not know the pain and turmoil your adoptive father has made you go through, but you will never be free if you keep holding on to the past.”

“i don’t think being a stellaron hunter and a wanted criminal is what you call greatness.” sunday jokes with a low chuckle making you roll your eyes.

you trained your sight on the road again. “it’s not easy to break out of whatever gopher wood has taught you,” the way you spat his adoptive father’s name with such venom made sunday wonder if you had personally met him. “but if, theoretically, we had offered you to join us earlier and to sneak you out of penacony, miss robin would be the first person to urge you to take that chance. you are her older brother yes, and it's often the oldest’s job to protect the younger,” you pull up your car in the parking lot as blade, kafka, and firefly started taking the shopping bags out of the car. “but she is still your sister that wants what’s best for you, even if it means leaving penacony behind.”

the sight of blade, a man with a harsh exterior and few words, silently carry silver wolf with such care will always stir something inside of sunday. or how kafka would happily chat with firefly over the new clothes they got on today’s shopping list, promising to do a haul tomorrow morning after the older woman cooks everyone breakfast. but if there was something that pulled at his heart the most, it would be you. 

you who kindly respected his space and unwillingness to talk or socialize with the other hunters when he had been first recruited. the same you who had made him the metal wings that was now attached to his lower back - created with so much care and attentiveness sunday felt unworthy of it. you who would always be the first one to look for him whenever you were going out and extending a hand for him to take.

“everyone deserves to be happy,” you say beside him as you drop him off at the door to his room. “and that includes you, mr. sunday.”

sunday had always been treated as someone who was above everything else, that was the first thing he was taught after all. he was destined for greatness, the key to the revival of his dead aeon. so he never truly knew how to act when someone treated him as an equal. someone neither above or below anyone.

“i’m not very good with words,” sunday scoffs, thinking otherwise. “so i often convey my sincerity and comfort through actions.”

sunday feels your hand slither to the back of his neck as you slowly pull him down to your height. forcing his beating heart to still when he looks into your eyes that swam with understanding and fondness when you press both of your foreheads together.

“you can enjoy your time here, with us. you’re allowed to let go of the past and miss your sister.” your thumb rubs soothing circles on his nape, sunday feels the hairs on his arms rise. “and if you still think otherwise, then that’s also fine. breaking free from the shackles of your past isn’t easy, but you shouldn’t give up.” sunday feels the way your words leave a warm ticklish feeling on his lips, he had to fight the urge to lean into your space even more. “we want you to be happy, we want you to be here with us. so we’ll teach you how to let go. until you can do it yourself.”

sunday has seen you do this to others; after you patch up blade after a nasty fight, when you welcome kafka home, when silver wolf comes to you after a nightmare and when firefly bares her heart out to you. he finally understands why the others stuck to you closely, they showed their appreciation for you in forms of physical affections. 

involuntarily, his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer he feels you may decipher the way his heart beats your name. “may we stay like this for a while?” you only hum slowly when he lays his head on your shoulder. letting your comfort wash away all the guilt and frustration, even if it was just for a moment.

you catch a glimpse of kafka leaning at one of the dark walls with a knowing smile on her lips. rolling your eyes at the older woman, you bid sunday a good night with a small smile. knuckles brushing right under his eyes where phantom tears had fallen. in your mind, you can’t help but feel that your little idea of taking him shopping to brighten up his mood was a success.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[gi4hao]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- how they make you feel beautiful

ot13 x reader — some mentions of insecurities

a/n: don’t mind me pushing the taking-pictures-as-a-love-language agenda for wonu, as always

— seungcheol: with gifts

with him, gifts for no particular reason are much more frequent than gifts for a specific occasion. he doesn’t like to come home empty handed and always says you deserve all the pretty things in the world. if he ever buys you a piece of clothing or jewelry, then he’ll be the happiest man on earth every time you wear it, showering you with compliments a little bit more than usual just because he loves spoiling you <3

— jeonghan: with specific compliments

every variation of color in your irises, the micro expressions on your face, the way your laugh slightly varies depending on what’s provoking it: whether it’s something new or not, jeonghan will compliment the slightest details in your appearance or your personality. sometimes he begins with a “did i ever tell you…”, and you know you’re about to hear the sweetest thing ever. like, “did i ever tell you how dreamy you look in that light? i can’t stop looking at you,” and even though he’s just talking about the orange-ish hues of your bedside lamp, you know he’s being 100% honest.

— joshua: by saying it out loud

“you’re the prettiest” while you’re brushing your teeth, “you look so gorgeous” when he’s picking you up in his car, or just your usual “hey beautiful” when you wake up in the morning. he never gets tired of saying it and you never get tired of hearing it. he barely uses your name anymore because he’s so used to calling you ‘beautiful’. the man is so smitten he could spend hours flirting with you, years into the relationship. and it’s even better if you’re easily flustered because he loves how shy you get when you hear those words…

— jun: with cuddles

there’s something about the way his fingers mindlessly trace your silhouette that makes you feel like the most delicate sculpture ever. you could just be cuddling in silence, reading a book or scrolling on your phone, and his hands will gently brush against your skin like they were made to do that and nothing else. sometimes you feel like returning the favor, but although he doesn’t mind it at all, it’ll never come close to how much he loves cherishing you with his cuddles.

— hoshi: by being your #1 hypeman

even though you’re someone that brings hoshi a lot of peace and serenity, your mere existence also gets him very excited for no apparent reason. the way he hypes you up whenever you’re getting ready to go out together is similar to the way people cheer for their favorite sports team. he’s celebrating two things: you being absolutely gorgeous, and him being lucky enough to be your partner. “honestly, if i saw you walking down the street without being the one dating you… i think i’d start crying.”

— wonwoo: by taking pictures

it’s not just him taking pictures that makes you feel beautiful, it’s the way he treats his photographs as if they’re the most precious things he owns. he regularly makes sure that they’re synchronized on his personal icloud account in case he ever loses them (it’s very serious to him). but also, he keeps a picture of you on his desk, in his wallet, as his phone wallpaper… and everyone thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever. the guys tried to tease him for it at first, but they quickly gave up because even they had to admit it’s an adorable way to express his love for you.

— woozi: with meaningful looks

it’s a rare occurrence to catch woozi in the act of being incredibly down bad for you. but it sometimes happens when you notice him looking at you with heart-shaped eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. you could be sitting on the other side of a room and his gaze would still find you in a second, lingering for a few seconds just to appreciate your beauty. he said so himself actually, when you asked him why he was looking at you so frequently. “everyone likes looking at beautiful things,” he replied very naturally, not picking up on the squeal you had to hold back.

— dokyeom: by talking about you

“y/n would love that”. “this would look amazing on y/n”. “oh look, y/n just sent me a pic!”. it’s a daily occurrence, and everyone knows they just have to deal with it. some boyfriends might try to gatekeep their partner: that’s not dokyeom’s case at all. in fact, people better be complimenting you in front of him! to be honest, he was talking about you non-stop before you guys even started dating, which is why you barely had to introduce yourself to his friends. you’re one of his proudest accomplishments and he wants the whole world to know about you!!

— mingyu: with kisses

there’s nothing like being kissed by mingyu to feel a sudden boost of self-confidence. his hands gently cupping your cheeks, the way he looks at you in between kisses and the growing smile in his eyes and on his lips… everything in his behavior seems tailor-made to make you feel like a vision of heaven. it doesn’t always have to be kisses on your lips tho, sometimes it’s on the back of your hand, on your shoulder or on your temple. but no matter where his lips touch your skin, they always convey just how much he cherishes you and every inch of your body.

— minghao: by drawing you

no other representation of yourself makes you feel as self-confident as minghao’s drawings of you. at first you were a bit taken aback by the feeling of seeing yourself through someone else’s perspective in such a raw way. but you got used to it pretty quickly, mostly because of how often minghao uses you as a reference. when you take a closer look at them, you realize his drawings are filled with details that not only depict your looks, but also traits of your personality. slowly but surely, you start to believe in the beauty he consistently finds in you, and that’s enough to let him know he’s doing a perfect job.

— seungkwan: by complimenting your insecurities

he doesn’t do it that often because he doesn’t want it to be the only thing he compliments you on. but seungkwan is very attentive to the way you perceive yourself so he will guess your insecurities even if you don’t talk about them out loud. therefore, he’ll find subtle ways to compliment them without making it too obvious. sometimes it’s not even out loud, it might just be by gently brushing against a body part you’re not confident in, or hyping you up in an outfit that doesn’t hide your insecurity. no matter how he does it, it always comes with such kindness and love that you have no choice but to feel a bit prettier than you did seconds ago.

— vernon: by paying attention

it sounds silly but it’s true. vernon pays attention to everything, from the colors you look most confident in, to what kind of compliments seem to work best on you. and later on, he’s able to adapt his behavior accordingly, to make you feel as good as possible in any situation. “you always know exactly what say, i don’t know how you do it,” you once told him, almost teary from how sweet he was being. “well, the fact that you strongly underestimate how beautiful you are is an insanely good motivation,” he replied, gently wiping the tears under your lash line.

— dino: by showing you off

he considers you the rarest gem of all, so yes of course he will show you off to whoever’s near! he’s the type of boyfriend that will enter a room before you just because he wants to do jazz hands for your entry. and he has such a smug look on his face when you two are out together, it’s like he’s in a permanent state of pride just because you’re holding hands in public. and although he’s not huge on pda, he has no problem complimenting you out loud in front of other people, and you find yourself on his instagram stories on a regular basis, which makes your self-esteem go up a notch every single time.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!