#because his resolve is a mess

[tearsoftime0086]

Korean ballads remain the ultimate kings of depicting pining... writing up a stylized translation of one of my recent favorites below the cut...

대인관계 (Personal Relations) - 윤종신 with 조영호

Am I lonely because I miss you

Or do I miss you because I'm lonely

The order's quite important

After all, isn't that proper manners?

I won't say I'm in love so impulsively

Just because I'm struggling

Because that's too easy, right?

What a simple conclusion

If I face it, again and again

That moment of falling

If just a little more time passes

I see us, one step away from each other

If I try to come closer, the fear that it'll startle you

That it'll be your wound to bear

I think this distance is just right for us

Someone who feels nice

Someone I can watch from afar for a long time

Please stay in that comfortable relation

I'm sure I'll break sometimes

The days when you're so beautiful it's hard to hold back

I'll whisper to myself

Even if you're far, please watch me

If I try to come closer, the fear that it'll startle you

That it'll be your wound to bear

I think this distance is just right for us

Someone who feels nice

Someone I can watch from afar for a long time

Please stay in that comfortable relation

I won't put you in my bookmarks

When, amongst all those other names

When you reach out sometimes

Will I have to intentionally delay my replies?

Can I do it? Will I break

Can I hide these all-consuming feelings in my heart

Someone I just see, someone who I see just sometimes

Will I survive in that common relation

Can I do it?

... I won't tell you I love you

But what if

What if it comes out suddenly, uncoolly

Like a pathetic person

And then our personal relation ends

What then

I love you

I love you I love you

I love you...

[alacryty]

The dead boys are detecting...!

Charles I said not to touch anything 😔 that boy's getting cursed by whatever's in there for sure

random extra stuff under the cut ↴

Here's just the background (this house has a suspiciously high quantity of lamps) from before I threw a bunch of random effects and color changes on it in davinki resolve. now we're rockin the cosmo and wanda color pallette

And some gifs that are an even BIGGER FILE SIZE as the other ones but they are eeeeever so slightly smoother in their slight camera shaking

Feel free to use any of this for whatever! :D For this one (1) artwork you have my permission yay thanks :)

[boarloved-art]

trust and believe the chaser gang's unofficial coworker christmas parties went crazy. qiren goes home after an hour, xichen immediately decides this is the perfect time to get hammered, guangyao is babysitting, wen qing is losing her mind a little bit, yu ziyuan is fighting between Wanting To Leave and Wanting To Outdrink Wuxian, huaisang and mingjue show up at some point and wuxian is too drunk to remember it - which he DOES weep about when wen qing tells him the next day. they have the worlds most british karaoke session. the buffet features mini sausage rolls, cocktail sausages, and a beautiful array of picky bits. mr brightside is playing for 50% of the event.

[camgoloud]

he still has his tonsils. by the way if you even care

[quietwingsinthesky]

on the one hand, syndicate’s resolution of jacob & evie’s overarching fight feels sort of rushed and unearned, but on the other hand, if i was in an argument with my sister and then some fucking guy tried to kill her in front of me, yeah, that might not solve all the reasons behind the argument but it would make me go ‘oh! right! i never want to live in a world without you!’ and stop us from fighting. so that bit’s actually quite realistic.

[zahri-melitor]

Look, one of the fundamental things I keep an eye on for DC writers these days is "is this person plotting a story arc that has sufficient escape valves in case of cancellation".

Because, realistically, even if you've been handed a headline title and an ongoing run, any writer should be tying off their story every 12 months and immediately before every major company-wide event. They shouldn't need to yank that cord, but you can always tell the difference between someone who has figured out how to exit their arc in advance and has just had to compress the story, and someone who's been caught on the hop (for active examples of this, go read literally any comic leading in to either Infinite Crisis or Flashpoint, as everyone got shuffled on their titles after both. You can see when teams were informed they were about to lose their books and when books were needed for the event in terms of how the stories all suddenly pivot to Getting Stuff Done ASAP).

There is also the evil cousin, 'run extended beyond expected plotting and ideas' which can show up but obviously is a rarer beast to spot.

[fortune-maiden]

Random TGCF Idea of the Day

The Cyrano AU returneth but make it three tumors

Or cut Cyrano entirely and just regular good old matchmaking

After Shi Wudu (unintentionally) gets pre-ascension Ling Wen humiliated at the essay contest, he can’t stop thinking about her. Partly because he feels a little bad about what happened (not that it’s his fault (it’s Jing Wen’s) and not that he’ll apologize for his part, but he at least wants her to know someone is in her corner) but also because he thinks he’s finally found someone else worth befriending in the heavens

Unfortunately for him, the other person he’s friends with is Pei Ming who immediately clocks SWD’s interest in Ling Wen as a crush and it is his sworn duty as both the god of love and a friend (read: he’s bored) to support his new bestie in all romantic endeavors! (Plus he’s also somewhat friendly with Ling Wen though not really friends yet, and also thinks she could use someone in her corner)

And of course once SQX learns that his brother has a crush on someone…

[agdab]

so my parents are visiting.

[sylviareviar]

hey guys i've been playing through pokemon black and white (i borrowed a copy of white from my local library) and every time i play these games i always do it with a "Pip" and "Fluffy". Since the game would be unplayable if I kept Fluffy as a Swablu, I allow myself to evolve him into an Altaria when the time comes, but the whole point of Pip's character is that he doesn't evolve, because he just can't. Therefore, anytime I play a game that has Piplup in it, I use it without evolving it and treat it as my main Water-type Pokemon, sometimes even replacing my starter.

My question is this: I'm getting to a point in Pokemon White that it's getting a little too difficult for me to keep playing with Pip as he is (if I could only give him custom stats, I'd give him higher bulk and special attack with a small boost to speed so he'd be able to take more hits without being so helpless). Should I evolve him and forget about my little "anime challenge"?

I feel kinda bad, but since White isn't my game anyway, I don't feel as bad as if it were my own game, Pokemon Black or Black 2. I don't intend to evolve him in either of those games. Plus, if I evolve him in White, it would be as though, in another universe, Pip was born with the capability to evolve. I'll be able to teach him moves I couldn't teach him as a Piplup and pass those on to future eggs if I want to do any further breeding. It's just that I keep hesitating anytime he levels up and keep cancelling the evolution.

I've kinda found myself at a crossroads here...

[sukumna]

┌─ .✦ HIS FAVORITE TYPE OF SEX part two

part two bc someone ask and i love this style of rambling about my favs.

꒰ part one | jjk version ꒱

✦ — Kenma Kozume, lazy, demanding sex. He’s the type to fuck you slow, dragging it out like he has all the time in the world, arms wrapped around you, keeping you in place like you belong to him. The type to pull you into his lap mid-game, barely sparing you a glance as he grinds up into you, muttering, “Be good and keep quiet.” He won’t stop playing, won’t even pretend to be fully focused on you—until you start squirming, whining, and then he’s flipping you over, making sure you know exactly who’s in control.

✦ — Kuroo Tetsurou, teasing, drawn-out sex. He’s the type to edge you until you’re crying, to drag things out just to hear you beg. The type to pin your wrists above your head, smirking as he murmurs, “Look at you. So desperate for me.” He loves overstimulation, fucking you until you’re a babbling mess, just to see how much you can take. The type to leave bite marks down your body just because he loves seeing the proof of what he did to you the next morning.

✦ — Kageyama Tobio, frustrated, intense sex. He’s the type to fuck you hard after a bad game, hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The type to lose control, voice rough as he groans, “I can’t stop—feels too good.” He fucks with everything he has, like he’s got something to prove, like he needs to feel you break beneath him. He’s too embarrassed to tell you he wants to be praised, but if you grab his face, tell him how good he’s making you feel, he’ll fuck you even harder, desperate to hear more.

✦ — Hinata Shoyo, eager, can’t-get-enough sex. He’s the type to go again before you’ve even caught your breath, to fuck you so hard the bedframe rattles. The type to moan against your neck, whimpering, “Just one more, baby, I promise.” But it’s never just one more. He’s so overwhelmed by you, so caught up in how good you feel, that he never wants it to end. He’ll fuck you with the same reckless enthusiasm he throws into everything else, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

✦ — Tsukishima Kei, mean but calculated sex. He’s the type to tease you until you’re a wreck, to make you beg before he even thinks about giving you what you want. The type to fuck you slow and deep, smirking as you squirm, whispering, “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you asked for?” He gets off on control, on watching you unravel under his touch. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, like he’s unaffected, but the second you cry for him—whimper, beg, tell him how much you need it—his resolve snaps, and suddenly, he’s fucking you senseless.

✦ — Akaashi Keiji, attentive, make-you-melt sex. He’s the type to hold your face as he fucks you, brushing kisses over your forehead, whispering soft praises. The type to make you come undone with just his words, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He makes love to you, slow and deep, like he wants to feel every part of you. But the moment you pull his hair, scratch his back, whisper something filthy in his ear? He snaps—presses you into the mattress, holds your hips still, fucks you until all you can do is moan his name.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: You’ve never felt fully at home in your own skin, but that has never stopped Joel from showing you just how much he wants you. One night, you gather the courage to show him what you’ve been too afraid to share, and he shows you exactly what it means to be wanted, worshipped, and seen.

|| smut MDNI 18+, Joel is down bad in love, self conscious reader, no physical description (except 'soft belly') but reader is insecure of their body, no specific timeline, age gap mentioned but not specified, pinv, f!receiving oral, little bit of (f!receiving) ass play, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, soft!joel, he calls you like every pet name in the book. some aftercare || notes: joel miller in reading glasses hello? dont kill me for being a little bit of a cornball in here. joel is a cornball when he's in love. Yes I know I wrote the word pretty a lot! That’s the point!!! Inspired by this request

Joel’s bed became home long before you were ready to admit it.

It’s where you feel safest. It’s where he tugs you into his chest first thing in the morning, rough hand splayed over your back like it belongs there, murmuring something low and sleep-thick against your temple. It’s where you read curled into his side at night, him propped up against the headboard in that worn old Henley, eyes flicking lazily over the pages of whatever book you handed him, while yours is gripped a little tighter, the latest thriller mystery that has your heartbeat ticking up by the final chapters.

He had told you to stop reading them before bed once, but he didn’t really mean it. Not when you curled tighter into him, not when your hand slid across his stomach and stayed there gripping him like you needed to be close to something steady, something warm. Something like him.

Joel loves you like this. Warm and soft and pliant in his bed.

It’s one of his favorite places. Not just for pressing you down into the mattress and filling you, not just for the pretty, breathy sounds you make when you’re too far gone to think about what you look like or where his hands are. No—he loves the quiet moments, too. The ones where your limbs are tangled up with his, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, your skin still carrying the ghost of his touch.

And every now and then, when you’re asleep on his chest or laughing at something dumb he said, he still finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up with a girl like you.

You’re so much younger. So much softer. He doesn’t know what you see in a man like him—older, rougher, carved from all the years you haven’t had to carry yet. You could’ve had anyone. But you chose him. 

You’ve been together a few months now, and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it. Still doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust, your sweetness, your sharp quick wit when he least expects it.

He tried to keep his distance at first. Tried not to look too long when you smiled, not to follow the sound of your voice like a damn tether every time you were in the room. Told himself it wasn’t right. You weren’t for him. You were good. But you kept coming closer.

And once you started to pursue him—sweet and fearless and so goddamn certain—his resolve didn’t just crack. It collapsed.

The years between you didn’t matter to him anymore. The guilt didn’t matter. The voice in his head that told him to stop, that warned him he was too old, too jaded, too broken to ever deserve you—it all went quiet the second you looked at him like he was worth wanting.

He had to have you. To feel you, hear you, know you. So he gave in.

But there was still something there he didn’t quite understand, even now. Something that never quite leaves him.

Because every time he takes you to bed with the singular thought of getting you naked, of taking you until he gets his fill, until you’re trembling and wrecked and crying out his name—every single time, he sees it.

That flicker of hesitation.

He watches your shoulders shrink inward. Watches the way your hands move to cover your belly the second his fingers slip beneath your shirt. The way your breath stutters like you’re already bracing for something—even if it’s just his eyes.

You never say it out loud. You don’t have to.

And every time he settles over you, broad chest looming, palms sliding down your sides with reverent slowness as he lays you down on his bedspread, you ask him in that sweet, uncertain voice:

“Can we turn the light off?”

And Joel… hesitates.

Just for a second. Just long enough to take one more look at your face—flushed and perfect and lips swollen from letting him kiss them until they’re bruised. He always obliges. Always reaches over and clicks off the bedside lamp without a word, even if something in his chest aches as the room goes dark.

In the low moonlight, he can still see pieces of you. The softness of your belly. The curve of your thighs. The arch of your back when you start to melt beneath his touch. And he reveres it. All of it.

Worships you like you’re something holy.

But even in the dark, he notices everything.

The way your breath hitches when he kisses down your body—not with pleasure, but with discomfort. The subtle tension in your limbs when he trails his lips past your ribs. The way you squirm when his mouth lingers at the tender skin between your stomach and mound. Not because it’s too much. But because you don’t want to be seen.

And it kills him a little every time.

Because he wants to see you. All of you. Wants you to know that there is not a single inch of your body he doesn’t adore.

But still, like many nights before, he obliges you tonight and reaches over to turn out the light at your request.

The room falls into darkness.

Joel wakes to the warm and golden light of the morning, the kind where sunlight filters through the blinds in soft, slatted beams, pooling across the hardwood floor. The kind where the world outside feels far away, like it can wait a little longer while the house stays quiet.

His mind fully catches up to the scent of coffee and the soft creak of floorboards.

The bed is empty beside him, blankets still warm, your pillow carrying the shape of your head. He rubs the sleep from his face and swings his legs over the edge, the weight of last night still humming low in his chest.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, barefoot, wearing nothing but his t-shirt—one of those older ones, soft and stretched out, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair’s a little messy, skin still marked in places from where his mouth had worshipped you in the hours of the night.

You’re so focused on pouring coffee into your favorite mug—the pink one with the little chip at the rim, just big enough to catch your lip if you’re not careful—that you don’t hear him come in.

He steps in behind you, silent as ever, warmth radiating off his chest before you even feel his hands.

One arm slips around your waist, the other gliding up beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—until his hand splays flat across your stomach. His lips find your neck a second later, soft and unhurried, brushing along your skin as he breathes you in.

You stiffen, just a little. It’s not resistance, you could never resist him, but your body goes still beneath his touch, that automatic flicker of self-consciousness rising to the surface like it always does when he touches you in the daylight.

Still, you don’t move away.

Joel’s voice is low and rough in your ear, all gravel and morning warmth, “‘Mornin’, darlin’.”

You smile, small, a little sheepish, but it’s there. “Morning.”

His hand drops lower, fingers brushing the curve of your hip, then sliding up again, slow and lazy. His other arm tightens around your front, keeping you pulled against him as his lips trail from your neck to your cheek.

“Joel—” you murmur, half a protest, half a laugh, squirming under his touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, voice thicker now, rougher with sleep and want. “So sexy in my shirt, honey.”

You go quiet. Not because you don’t like it. But because it still hits that spot—the part of you that flinches at being seen. You press your lips together, focus on the coffee in your hand, as if the words might disappear if you just don’t look at him.

But Joel sees it. Feels the shift. The way you tense ever so slightly when he calls you nice things. Like the words don’t fit, not yet. Like you still haven’t figured out how to wear them.

He kisses your cheek again, slower this time.

“I mean it,” he adds softly.

You nod once, a breath catching in your chest before you murmur, “I know.”

Joel leans in and kisses the back of your head, just behind your ear, then murmurs against your skin, “Put the coffee down for a second.”

You glance over your shoulder, suspicious but smiling. “Why?”

“Just do it, baby.”

With a soft sigh, you set the mug back on the counter. Before you can ask again, he’s turning you in his arms, hands firm but careful on your hips and over the shirt, as he spins you to face him.

He steps in close, real close, until the backs of your thighs press against the cabinets and his hands come up to cradle your face. Big, warm palms on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the softness there like he’s memorizing the way you feel under his touch. 

Then his hands squish your cheeks between his hands, just enough to puff your lips out like a fish.

Your brows furrow as you try in vain to pull away. “Joel—!”

“Say it,” he says, dead serious despite the ridiculous hold he has on your face.

Your eyebrows knit further as you still. “Say what?”

He smirks, dipping his head until your noses bump. “Say: I’m pretty.”

You groan, giggling despite yourself as you try to wiggle free. “Joel, oh my god—”

He holds on, pressing exaggerated kisses to your squished face—your cheek, your forehead, your nose and your puffed out top lip. “Say it. Go on. I’ll wait all day.”

“Fine!” you huff, lips barely moving from the way he’s still holding your face. “I’m pretty.”

He grins, loosening his hold just enough so you can speak properly, though he keeps his hands right where they are. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I’m pretty,” you repeat, cheeks heating as you say it, soft and unsure but not sarcastic. Not deflecting.

Joel beams, eyes crinkling at the corners, kissing your lips as he loosens his hold on your face. “Damn right you are. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You can’t help but smile now, wide and a little bashful. You duck your head, but he catches you again, presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and unhurried.

And when he backs away and you finally reach for your coffee again, cheeks still warm, he’s watching you like he’s already counting the seconds until he gets to do it all over again.

That night starts like any other night.

Late, quiet, the house dipped in soft shadows. The windows are cracked just enough to let in the evening breeze, the hum of cicadas drifting in with the warm air. Joel’s in bed already, reading glasses sliding down his nose, thumbing through the same page of his book he’s read three times without taking in a single word.

He’s waiting for you to join him, your book is still closed on the side table. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom before you could even cuddle up in bed beside him. You had said you needed two minutes.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

He figures you’re brushing your teeth. Or lost in one of your little bedtime routines—rearranging things on the counter or doing your 10 step nightly skincare. He doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to your rhythms the more you stayed over. Grown to love them, even.

But then he hears the bedroom door open, and when he glances up, expecting to see you in one of your usual pajamas, his breath catches. You’re not wearing one of his big T-shirts or those soft cotton sets you like so much.

You’re standing in the doorway in white lace, delicate and sheer and almost ethereal in the low glow of the lamp light.

It damn near knocks the air out of him.

He forgets all about the book in his lap—doesn’t even feel it fall to the mattress as his gaze rakes over you, slow and disbelieving. His jaw goes slack as he removes his glasses and sets them on the side table.

The bra—he doesn’t know what it’s called, not that it matters—looks daintier and more delicate than anything he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. Feminine in a way that hits him right in the chest. It wraps around you like it was made for your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. The straps are thin, dipping into the softness of your shoulders, and the lace cups give just enough to let his imagination blur with what’s already in front of him.

The matching bottoms sit high on your hips, scalloped lace tracing the tops of your thighs, giving him a perfect view of the skin he’s only ever touched in the dark.

Your hair is pulled back behind your shoulders—intentionally, he thinks, like you wanted him to have the full view.

Your lip is tucked under your top teeth, and your eyes flick down for a second, uncertain—then back up again.

But then you smile.

Shy, but proud. Like you’re showing him something precious and a little terrifying. Like you finally believe, even just a little, that he might actually mean every word he’s ever said about you.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed, jaw tight with restraint as he beckons you to him. Slowly, you make your way over, and he soaks in the look of your thighs as you move, the way your body is begging to be marked and taken. His hands curl against his own thighs like he’s afraid to touch you too fast, too hard, and shatter the moment.

But when you move to stand between his knees, and he lifts his eyes up to meet yours, you don’t flinch.

He lets out a long, shaky breath. Then his hands lift slowly, reverently, palms brushing along the outside of your thighs, up to your hips.

His voice is low, almost reverent. “Christ, baby… look at you.”

You let out a nervous laugh, eyes dropping for a second—but you don’t cover yourself. Don’t twist away like you usually do. You stay right there, between his knees, close enough for him to smell the soft scent of your lotion and whatever little perfume you’d put on just for him.

Joel lifts his hands, slow and sure, and holds your hips, warm, steady, splayed wide like he wants to cover all of you. His thumb strokes gently over your skin where the lace ends, just above your hipbone.

“You did this for me?” he murmurs, looking up at you.

You nod once, eyes still shy but glowing with something soft. “I wanted to. I…I know I usually…”

“I know,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking your skin under his touch. “Don’t gotta explain nothin’ to me.”

His voice is gentle, but there’s something else beneath it now. Thicker. Hotter. Like he’s barely keeping a lid on what he really wants to say.

You bite your lip again, tucking it under your top teeth as you gauge his reaction. Joel leans in, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a kiss between the valley of your breasts—slow, open-mouthed, just wet enough to make your breath stutter.

You exhale, body already leaning into him, melting under the heat of his mouth, the drag of his stubble, the way his hands are rubbing slow circles along your thighs. His fingers toy with the hem of the lace between your legs, pinching the delicate fabric between them, like he can’t decide whether to rip it off or worship it.

“You know what this does to me? What you do to me, angel?” he rasps, voice rough now, filthy and unfiltered. “You got me starin’ like a damn animal. Don’t even know where I wanna taste first.”

He kisses the underside of your breast, and even though it's covered by lace, he bites softly at the curve, tongue soothing the mark he leaves behind. His hands move to grip your ass tightly now, pulling you closer, positioning so your stomach and hips are flush against his chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Every time I think I’ve seen all of you, you go and give me this?”

His eyes flick up, hungry and reverent. You squirm, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips, but Joel doesn't back off. He presses another kiss to your stomach, then just above your belly button, murmuring into your skin.

“Timid little thing—but deep down you like it, don’t you? Like when Daddy talks like this?”

Your thighs twitch under his hands and you nod.

He grins, feral and soft all at once. His hands slide up your sides, palms hot and steady against your ribs, thumbs brushing the edge of lace as his mouth follows—slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, tongue flicking against the fabric covering your breasts. His tongue pokes out over the lace of your bodice right where your nipple would be, teeth grazing over the hidden but pebbled skin. Your jaw falls open as you watch him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, breath catching against your sternum. “You wore this just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

One hand lifts, fingers tugging gently at the strap of your bralette, sliding it down your shoulder. Then the other. His movements are careful, almost reverent, as he peels the lace down and away, baring you inch by inch.

And when your breasts spill free, his breath catches audibly.

“Jesus Christ.”

He sits back just far enough to look. Just for a moment. Just to see you.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, thick with awe and heat. He brings his hands up to grip the flesh of your breasts, kneading them together, “Bet you don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

You bite your lip again, that flicker of shyness still dancing across your face—like you have to physically restrain yourself from trying to cover the revealed skin. But no. Not this time.

Joel leans in and licks a slow stripe over one nipple, making you gasp. He drags his tongue in a lazy circle, then sucks it into his mouth, groaning low in his throat like he’s tasting heaven.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers gripping him as your back arches on instinct.

“That’s it,” he growls, pulling back just to press a kiss between your breasts before taking the other into his mouth, this time sucking harder, leaving it damp and peaked from his tongue. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear every sound you make when I touch you like this.”

Your hips roll against him, thighs trembling as you stand between his legs.

“Sensitive little thing,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Just needed someone to show you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

He kisses lower, down the underside of your breast, then back up again, licking softly, sucking just enough to leave the faintest mark.

“M’gonna take good care of you tonight, baby,” he breathes, dragging his mouth back to your nipple. “Gonna take my timeand take every fuckin’ inch of this sweet body. You gonna let me?”

You nod, breathless, voice caught somewhere in your throat,“Y-yeah.”

Joel looks up, eyes blazing, lips slick from kissing you.

“‘Yeah’, what? Tell me, honey.”

Your begin to squirm as you tell him, “I want you to, Daddy. Please.”

Joel groans like it physically knocks the air out of him. His hands trail back down your sides, slow and reverent, fingertips grazing the lace waistband still hugging your hips.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth lower. 

He kisses down your stomach, tongue peeking out to trace the little dip of your navel, his hands smoothing down your hips and behind to cup your ass again, fingers squeezing tight. The lace panties are all that remain, soft and delicate, slightly damp already with your arousal. He noses along the waistband, breathing you in.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he growls, teeth catching gently at the fabric. “Bet you taste even better.”

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging gently as he tongues over the lace, not pulling it down yet—just feeling you through it, his mouth wet and hungry over your hips and tummy.

You moan, your hips grinding against him again as he teases you, his one hand reaching down to drag his fingers over your clothed mound, the slick of your folds soaking through. He groans at the feeling before pulling back with a sharp exhale, looking up at you with wild eyes.

“On the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”

You blink, heart leaping, but you don’t hesitate. You scramble onto the mattress, crawling forward on shaky limbs until you’re positioned right where he wants you—on all fours, back arched, breath quick and needy.

Joel groans behind you at the sight, pulling his shirt over his head before dragging a hand up your spine, slow and heavy.

“Goddamn, baby. Look at you.”

Once he’s climbed onto the bed behind you, spreading your knees a little wider, he kneads at your ass with both hands, reverent and gentle. He settles his body lower, shifting on the bed until his face is level with your center. He drags his thumbs along the backs of your thighs, spreading them a little wider, groaning low when he sees how soaked the lace of your panties is—slick and clinging to your folds, a perfect puffy outline of everything he’s about to taste.

“Look at this,” he breathes, like it’s something sacred. “Fuckin’ drenched for me.”

You gasp when you feel his mouth again—not on your skin, but over the lace. A slow, deliberate kiss right to the center of you, hot and wet and perfectly placed. His lips part, tongue nudging against the fabric, teasing your clit through the sheer barrier.

It’s maddening.

He hums, the vibration making your hips twitch.

“Fuck, baby… I could spend all night like this. Kissin’ you through these pretty little panties. Smellin’ you. Feelin’ how worked up you are for me.” He nuzzles in deeper, breathing hot against you, licking a wide, slow stripe up the center of your heat—through the lace—then mouthing at it, sloppy and wet, soaking it even more.

You sob, spine arching, thighs quivering where they try to stay upright. Joel groans against you.

“Can’t believe you wore this just for me,” he mutters, dragging his tongue back down. “So fuckin’ soft. So sweet. Pussy’s beggin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You nod frantically, already breathless. “Yes—God, Joel, please—”

He chuckles darkly, biting gently at the fabric. “Please what, baby?”

“Take them off,” you gasp. “Please—need you.”

Joel pulls back, and you feel the shift in the air before you feel his hands—rough palms curling under the waistband of your panties, fingers brushing the skin of your hips as he peels the lace down slow. Agonizingly slow.

“Anything for my girl,” he says.

Joel’s broad, warm hands palm at your ass, kneading every inch as he situates himself behind you. He dips lower, mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses into the flesh of your left cheek, then the right, before his teeth sink down into the soft meat.

You yelp, hips jerking at the sharp nip.

“Prettiest noises too,” he murmurs into your skin, kissing the sensitive mark he left behind. His hands spread your cheeks, thumbs firm as they open you up for him—and when you peek over your shoulder, you find his eyes locked on your center, gaze dark and fixated, the pupils blown wide.

When he catches you looking, his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“She’s flirtin’ with me,” he says, grinning like the devil.

Your face burns, and you let your head drop into the pillows, hiding from the embarrassment that curls through your belly—hot and helpless, tangled with molten want.

Joel’s lips find your skin again, slower now, more reverent as he holds you open. His tongue drags between your cheeks, a deep, teasing stroke that makes your whole body tense. He kisses your slick folds with a wet, lewd sound that makes you gasp.

He hums, low and satisfied, then laps at your dripping arousal like it’s his first taste of water in weeks.

“And the prettiest pussy,” he rasps, lips brushing your folds. “You know that, darlin’?”

You moan, unable to answer, as his tongue pushes deeper. He flattens it and licks slow, wide strokes up your slit before circling your clit. His nose bumps your entrance, barely prodding, teasing you as his tongue works your clit in tight, filthy circles.

Your hips start moving without your permission, grinding into his face, seeking more.

Joel groans like you’re his favorite meal, tongue flattening again, letting you push into him.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “Ride my face.”

You mewl, your body bucking, wild and desperate, grinding into him like a goddamn bronco at the fair. Your walls flutter, your core pulsing with pressure as it builds, and builds, and builds.

Your thighs begin to shake.

Joel’s grip on you tightens as he takes over, tongue working your clit with expert flicks, fast and relentless.

The pressure in your belly snaps like a pulled cord, your spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, pushing yourself deeper into his mouth as you come, loud and wrecked, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Joel moans into you like he’s the one coming undone, tongue never faltering, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Even as you start to come down, breath catching in your throat, he doesn’t stop. He just slows, letting you twitch and gasp and shake through it.

Then, you feel it. The warm, wet pressure of his tongue pushing up past your folds, over the skin between, then circling your tighter hole. You jump at the intrusion, a sharp gasp breaking from your lips—but the haze of your orgasm makes your body soft, receptive, already melting for him.

You whimper, hips twitching. Joel just groans again, closing his lips around your sensitive rim, suckling gently.

“F–fuck,” you whisper, unable to think, to move, to breathe.

He licks you there once more before planting slow, open-mouthed kisses up your spine, up to the small of your back, your shoulder blades, and finally your neck.

Then he’s curling over you, beard scratchy against your skin, his lips brushing your cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispers, voice low and rough, "Wanna see your face when I stuff you full a'me,"

You can’t help but giggle at the tickle of his scruff against your neck, still dazed, still boneless, but do as you’re told—twisting under him until you’re on your back, staring up at him.

Joel’s eyes, though dark with hunger, hold something else too. Something deep and aching. Something sweet.

And then, with that same steady tone he uses when talking patrol routes or fixing fences, he says, “Now. Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart.”

His lips brush your jaw, then your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up so deep, fuck you so full of my cock, my cum, me, that when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you’re gonna see is how fuckin’ beautiful you are—‘cause you’ll still be wearin’ what I did to you tonight.”

Your chest heaves, the words settling deep in your stomach, curling there like heat and honey.

“Joel, I—” you start to say, only to gasp when you feel the hot, thick head of his cock nudge at your entrance.

“You feel this, honey?” he murmurs, pulling back to look down between you, voice rough and reverent. “Feel how bad he wants you? How bad I want you?”

You nod, gripping his forearms tight, your thighs falling open even wider for him.

He notches just the bulbous tip inside you and hisses at the wet heat.

“Jesus,” you breathe. “I feel it, Joel, I—I… pleasepleaseplease—”

“I know, angel, I know,” he pants, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, grounding you. “Now I wanna hear you say it.”

Your brain lags, thick with need, swimming in lust and love and the ache to just feel him.

“W-what?”

Joel watches you, eyes burning into yours.

“Say, ‘I’m pretty, Daddy.’”

Your whole body flushes, lips parted in disbelief, already whining at the way he just knows how to unravel you.

You groan wordlessly, bringing your hands to your face to hide. He is so on your shit list for this.

Joel chuckles darkly, pushing in another inch, and you whimper behind your hands.

“I’m waitin’, darlin'.”

You squirm under him, thighs trembling, skin turning hotter and hotter by the second. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him to move, to fill you, to do something.

But Joel waits. He always waits—until you give in, until he gets what he wants.

You lift your hands from your face slowly, eyes hazy, cheeks heated, lips parted. He’s watching you like a man possessed, one hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapped around his pulsing member with agonizing patience.

“M’pretty,” you whisper.

Joel’s brow arches, lips curling, “Not quite, sweetheart. You know how I want it.”

Your chest heaves. Your pussy clenches around just the tip of him, and even though you see the twitch in his jaw, he still waits.

So you gather your courage, heart pounding in your throat: “I’m pretty, Daddy.”

Joel’s smile breaks across his face, so bright and full of something so tender it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It almost pulls you out of the heat of it, the haze of arousal, until your core clenches and he sinks into you just a little deeper.

You gasp, the stretch sharp and perfect.

He leans down slowly, hands braced in the pillows beside your head, lowering himself onto his forearms until his chest is flush with yours, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

He’s still not fully sheathed in you.

“Again.” 

“I… I’m pretty, Daddy,” you breathe, voice shaky as your pussy tries to adjust around the thick stretch of him.

“The prettiest,” he nods, and his lips mold to yours as he finally pushes all the way in. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, the sound swallowed by his tongue slipping between your lips, hot and hungry, as he bottoms out. His balls press firmly against the slick, wet crevice of your ass, and the mess between your thighs is obscene—your arousal dripping, sticky and hot, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Joel groans into your mouth, loud and wrecked like its been trapped in his chest for hours. His hands come up to cradle your head, keeping you right there beneath him as he begins to move, slow at first, pulling out a few inches before rolling back in, the full weight of him rocking your body with every deep thrust.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. “Pussy’s so damn tight.”

He pulls out slowly again, then drives back in hard, enough to jolt you up the bed, the sound of it lewd and perfect. His brow furrows, eyes fluttered shut as he focuses on the way your walls cling to him.

“Fuckkkk,” you mewl as he continues sawing into you, filling you and stretching you around him, buried to the hilt.

Joel grins, feral and hungry, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

“Sound even prettier when you take my cock.”

He sets a rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that hit all the way up, filling you to the brim. His body covers yours, chest brushing your nipples, beard scratching your throat as he nips and kisses every inch he can reach.

“Been thinkin’ about this for so long, baby” he grits out between thrusts, hips slapping against yours. “The way you’re always hidin’ yourself from me, coverin’ up like you’re not the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your hands claw at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I got you, honey,” Joel pants, head dropping to your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him even tighter. “And you’re gonna start seein’ it for yourself,” 

His pace picks up, rougher now, slamming into you with the kind of need that’s barely human.

“Gonna fuck you so full you forget every goddamn lie you ever told yourself in a mirror. Gonna make sure the only thing you remember is me—how you sounded, how you looked, when I wrecked this perfect little body.”

You’re gasping, whimpering, shaking beneath him, stars flashing behind your eyes as he pounds into you like he’s never going to stop.

“That’s it, baby. You take it,” he growls. “Take my cock so good, like the good girl you are for me. Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Joel—” you cry, voice breaking.

He lifts his head, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“Say it again, sweetheart. Tell Daddy how pretty you are.”

“I—I’m pretty,” you choke out. “I’m—fuck, I’m so pretty, Daddy—”

He loses it.

His hand slides under your thigh, hooking it up, opening you wider, deeper. His hips slam into you harder now, the rhythm filthy, brutal, perfect.

“I know, baby. I know. Look at you. My good girl, look so beautiful takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, guiding you forward as he sits back—craning your head up so you can look down, see exactly where you’re joined. 

Your mind barely registers the softness of your belly, too focused on the thick stretch of him splitting you open, the obscene way you take every inch. You both watch as he drives into you, slick and deep and devastating, a ring of your last orgasm glistening around his cock. The pressure builds again, white-hot and unbearable.

And Joel knows—he feels it in the way you clench, the way your voice goes high and desperate, the way your hands grip him like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

“You gonna come for me again, sweet girl?” he pants, fucking you into the mattress. “Gonna let Daddy feel you pulse around his cock?”

“Yesyesyes—Joel, I—please—”

“That’s it,” he snarls, “give it to me.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a scream as he releases your neck, letting you arch your back, trembling as you milk his cock with spasms so tight it makes Joel curse, a broken sound from deep in his chest.

And then he’s coming, hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, filling you just like he promised. His voice breaks on your name as he grinds through it, hands gripping you enough to leave bruises, breathing ragged.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled and uneven. His chest heaving against yours. Your legs shaking around his waist.

His hand slides up, cradles the side of your face. His thumb brushes gently beneath your eye, even though you’re not crying—but something about the touch makes you want to. Makes your throat ache.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice all gravel and reverence. “You okay?”

You nod, eyes still fluttered shut, heart pounding. “Y-yeah.”

Joel presses a soft kiss to your lips—barely a touch, like he’s afraid of ruining you more than he already has. Then another, and another, until you're giggling quietly beneath him, too dazed to hold it in.

He smiles, the kind of smile he doesn’t show anyone else. The kind that barely reaches his eyes, because he’s still looking at you like you’re a dream that might disappear if he blinks too hard.

“Look at me, baby.”

You do. You always do when he asks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, voice low and rough with what sounds almost like awe. “You know that?”

The words hit you deeper than they should. You suck in a sharp breath, trying to even out your breathing, but your lungs don’t cooperate. Your eyes dart away, suddenly misting and too overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze—by the sincerity written all over his face. It's too much. Too close. Too real.

But Joel’s hand is already there, catching your chin gently, tilting your face back toward his. His thumb grazes the edge of your jaw, soft and steady.

“No,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t do that. Not tonight. Not after everything you just gave me.”

Your chest stutters, emotion building so fast and so sharp you feel like you might spill over with it. Your fingers twitch against his back before finally settling, drifting across his damp skin in slow, absent circles. You take deep, calming breaths to settle yourself. Breathe in, breathe out.

He’s still inside you, still heavy over you, like neither of you are ready to let go just yet. Your limbs are tangled, the air still thick with sweat and heat and something quieter—something softer.

The room is quiet now, the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty. Just your shared breaths, slow and unsteady. The low thump of his heart where his chest presses to yours.

Joel shifts only slightly, just enough to press a kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. Then your temple. The way he moves is unhurried, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s kissing more than just skin—like he’s kissing the pieces of you he’s afraid to speak out loud.

It makes your chest ache.

“You’re being so sweet,” you whisper, throat tight almost like it’s a secret.

His lips hover at your lips, pressing gently but not fully,  “I don’t know how not to be,” he says softly. “Not with you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. His scent wraps around you—salt and skin and something warm and comforting that’s just him. The warmth blooms under your skin again, curling around your ribs, spreading down your spine.

“I love you.” he says, like it’s always been there, waiting. Like it’s not a confession so much as a truth that finally found its way out.

Your breath catches. Not from fear, not from panic, but from the sheer weight of it. The gravity. The sound of those words, spoken into the low light of the room while he's still buried inside you, holding you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Your eyes flutter open. You don’t move. Not yet.

Joel doesn’t either. But his voice dips low, softer now. A hint of uncertainty laces the edges. “Too much?”

You shake your head instantly, and your hands rise to cradle his face, looking up at him, fingertips brushing his temples like you need to anchor both of you in this moment.

“No,” you whisper, a tear finally escaping your eye. “No, not too much.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently as you pull him down and press your lips to his. And when you pull back, your words are trembling but sure.

“I love you too.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.Then he kisses you—slow and deep and home, his mouth moving against yours like he’s sealing the promise between your bodies.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal, @anxiousscribbling

[creationsekai]

Warning. Text. Lots of it.

Akito hears about rumours about this random girl who suddenly showed up and started sweeping all over the place and didn't think much about it. until he sees Ena singing at a live house and then he's like what the actual fuck are you doing here. He can immediately tell her heart is not in it, but she sings incredibly well despite that. He gets genuinely angry that Ena gave up art and started singing at Vivid Street. But he's also surprised, confused and maybe even jealous that she has talent for singing.

Before her singing era, Ena wandered into Vivid Street stuck with her emotions. She just gave up art. After all, she's talentless. And more than anything she wants to disappear, but giving up on life isn't an option for her. For now at least. She goes into Weekend Garage and meets Ken. Ken offers her the mic to let her emotions out, since she's obviously been crying. While singing Ena surprises herself, she good at singing. And.... people are praising her! For the reason she posts selfies, she started singing around Vivid Street. Her sudden appearance and talent surprised everyone in Vivid Street, and decides to keep singing. She doesn't have any resolve, but she doesn't realize it. She's talented and gets praise already, what would be the point of improving herself? She finds singing fun and the praise helps with her ego.

Then she comes across Akito at the live house after a gig. Ena isn't exactly surprised, after all she could hear him sing from several streets away, but she was scared to bump into him at the streets and ESPECIALLY at a live house. Akito confronts her about giving up art, and tells her that it was a terrible weak-willed decision. And so, Ena realizes she doesn't put any effort in singing. She's dissapointed in herself. She gave up art and started singing at Vivid Street? And she doesn't even have the decency to put any effort into it? What the hell? While she's emotional about art and singing, she bumps into Ken. She vents to him that she doesn't deserve art and especially singing because she doesn't even have any resolve for it. She'd probably drop it hard like she did with art the moment she thinks she's talentless and useless. She hates to admit it, but she's weak-willed just like Akito told her she is. Ken tells her there's no such as "deserving" something you love, and that she should keep going despite it. And ominously, he tells her that she will find her resolve within the people in the city. Though a bit confused, she realizes she shouldn't pay attention to the praise these people give, but instead their passion. Rude. After all.... That's what she wanted in art.

Meanwhile, Akito is overworking himself and filling his schedule to the brim with singing. Though not entirely angry anymore, he's still frustrated with Ena. He's still far from being able to surpass RAD WEEKEND, and Ena's singing showed just how much he's missing. After doing a slightly succesful live, he faints at Weekend Garage. Akito wakes up to some chocolate milk and even the An Shiraishi being worried about him. Ken reminds him to take care of his body, and especially since he just fainted. He's reluctant, since he HAS to improve, but he can't refuse his hero.... Akito and An talk, and he asks why An hasn't been singing at all for months. An reacts really weirdly, she looks sad and full of grief... But An just says Nagi isn't able to watch her surpass RAD WEEKEND anymore. Akito doesn't really wanna think about the implications.

When going home he gets challenged to a singing battle by this annoyingly rude guy he provoked in his middle school days. Without him realizing it, Ena comes across the start of their battle. Because she has been watching people sing instead of singing herself, she has gotten more passionate about singing and she's curious who'll win (and she hopes Akito beats his ass). They mention an event called RAD WEEKEND. She has heard a lot about that event while she was listening and enjoying the music of Vivid Street. Apparently it was this super exciting and unforgettable event, but she wouldn't know. Loads of people want to surpass it. Interesting dream to have, good for them I guess.

Then they start the battle. Ena is surprised at how loud Akito is, now that she's so close up to him singing. She thinks about how much heart he puts into singing compared to her. Though, Akito loses. The more skillful but annoying guy starts being, y'know, more annoying. Ena is sick of this guy making dumb and irritating insults, and then SHE challenges him to a singing battle. It was entirely on impulse, and she doesn't realize what she's done until it starts. But just like Akito she's stubborn and happy to stomp him to the ground. Ena surprised herself, as she manages to sound louder and better than usual. Though, to her surprise, she loses. She's surprised it happened, but more than anything she's dissapointed. She couldn't get more people excited than him. She wanted to beat the shit out of that guy but didn't. She doesn't put effort in, and her talent won't even cut it with the people with actual skill... In fact, her reliance on talent just makes her sound like her father! Akito tried to talk things out with her after seeing resolve from her, but Ena ran away.

Ena is the first to discover SEKAI, and she visits it. Ena tells MEIKO what happened: She's once again upset at herself for not putting effort in and relying on her talent. MEIKO tells her that she DOES put effort in, after all, she surprised herself by being better and got upset after losing the battle. Because Ena is stubborn she doesn't believe it at first, but then MEIKO suggests her to sing. Ena sings, and after she finished she's upset that she doesn't sound powerful enough and that she messed up several high notes. She wants to sing again, and MEIKO interrupts. She informs her she is proving herself wrong by wanting to sing again. Ena is still stubborn, and insists she still isn't putting nearly enough effort in like she did with art, but secretly she's happy she found her resolve. She did it through seeing the people of Vivid Street being passionate. The praise they gave her isn't just praise, and Ken didn't help just because... It was support too. Support she never got from her father. That love for music that they share with eachother, isn't something she ever got with art as well. She gets now what Ken meant.

Ena goes back to singing full-time, and the musicians say that she sounds louder than before. She isn't sure if that is supposed to be praise or not, but she takes it. If she's gonna sing after she gave up art like an idiot, she'll sing loud and shove her feelings in everyone's faces. Some passing people are whispering things like "I wonder if she'll surpass RAD WEEKEND?" Ena ignores them, though she gets more curious about this event. Maybe she should ask Ken about it.

Akito is tired of doing nothing, and he decided to go back to practicing. Akito is kinda surprised Ena lost the battle. Her talent has a limit too huh. Akito finds that he's okay with that... And that Ena sounded so resolved and determined to sing. She sounded louder than before. Far from how loud he does it, but she has build up her resolve for singing... It was just like him when he gave up on football. She's finding something new to put her life into. Though, it's hard for him to imagine Ena without art. He's still dissapointed she just gave up on art like that, but it's not all bad. Well, he's done with awkward dinners, so he'll talk with Ena. But that is a problem for future Akito. He is going to Weekend Garage....

And Ena is right there. Talking with Ken of all people. He wanted to talk to Ken, geez.... Despite that he pretends Ena doesn't mean anything to him and sits by Ken at the bar. Ena notices him, and they start a typical sibling fight. Ken drops the bombshell that he suspected they were siblings, but didn't say anything. And then he continued with answering Ena's question. What was RAD WEEKEND like? Ken explained, but he adds that Ena should hear from someone who watched instead. Well, Akito is right there! Reluctantly he explains to Ena that the event made a big impression on him, and that that night was one he will never forget. It gave him something to put his life into. Akito says that he wants to surpass RAD WEEKEND no matter what anyone tells him. Ena smiles. She remembers the time she told Akito to try singing out... And here she is singing now too. How the damn tables turn.

This exciting event Akito wants to surpass; he's putting his life into it. Ena can't just be left behind in having a life worth living. He's out there putting his life into something he loves, while Ena gave up art like a wimp and everyday she feels insignificant. She broke under the pressure of it all, and her feeling of wanting to dissappear is suffocating. Perhaps one day she'll return to art if Akito bounces back everytime, but that won't happen anytime soon. She feels terrible everyday and art makes it worse, it's suffocating. She'd rather have fun sharing passion and to just get rid of that feeling of wanting to disappear by singing on stage. This dream Akito has makes him see worth in putting his life into something.... She wonders if she'll ever find such a thing. Ena says that she's going home, and excuses herself.

Ena has gone to a live house to do a gig, and meets Akito backstage. Ena is surprised Akito is there, especially since she heard from musicians that Akito kinda dipped out. Akito tells her that he rested for a bit, but now he's practicing again. Suddenly, Akito tells her he forgives her for deciding to sing. He saw her resolve when she sang, and she was curious about RAD WEEKEND. He can't forgive her for giving up art, but he's fine with having her walking around Vivid Street. Ena is weirded out by honest Akito, and mentions that she wants cheesecake.... Then that annoying guy comes back, and he has a team? How did HE get a team to sing with? He boasts about winning against the two of them without his team, and he says they'll crush the two easily in these gigs. Ena and Akito are both still irritated by this guy, but Akito manages to nice guy his way out of giving fuel to him. So this will be a battle, huh. Slowly all the musicians get their turns to sing, and once the annoying guy team sweeps everyone else the Shinonomes realize they're up against something else. Ena just happens to be next... Akito gets an idea. They should team up. Ena is reluctant at first since why would she team up with Akito of all people.. But she realizes how good of an idea it is since teams generally get more people excited. Together they stand a chance against them. The two surprise everyone when they both walk up on the stage. They talk big. Akito says he'll surpass RAD WEEKEND, even if that means teaming up with his sister. Ena says she'll best those guys at singing, because she's infinitely better

The typical sibling rivalry they have makes them try to one-up the other. The two sound better somehow because of this desire to be the better one... Ena is trying really hard to be louder than Akito, and that way she's putting her all into it. Akito wants to be more skilled than Ena, so he sings better. They fire the other up! They manage to beat the guys, and rub it in their faces real quick.

The Shinonomes rest backstage. Ena thinks it was crazy overwhelming to get that many people excited, but she had some fun. Akito says that is why he wants to surpass RAD WEEKEND- getting that many people excited and making a night people will forever remember is his dream. Ena can't help but be intrigued, many things were already so fun in Vivid Street, but a night that beats everything else... She hates that she left art, but maybe she can put everything into surpassing RAD WEEKEND? Ena says her whims out loud, and Akito is surprised. RAD WEEKEND..? Ena explains herself, but also says she needs a team... Akito remembers that they were better tonight.. and suggest becoming a team! What?! Ena is understandably surprised, but she accepts anyway. Though, this doesn't mean she won't try to be the better singer. Akito can't agree more, he'll one-up Ena.

And then the rest of the main story plays out :3

Absolutely insane blocks of text I wrote. Trust me when I say that wasn't the intention at first. To be honest, I think a more in-character Ena would've returned to art the moment Akito got angry at her ass for giving up and being weak-willed since she's stubborn and spiteful. But like how else is she gonna start singing with Akito lmao. Maybe a lack of niigo is making her more fragile... Though I guess she will return to art in this AU in the end, she can't imagine her life without art and I can't imagine her without it either eksbejs

i think an AU where Ena and Akito become a singing team is fucking funnty

[leaky-bunny]

omo tropes i absolutely adore:

humping to help hold. watching someone wiggle and whimper and moan while rubbing against their hand or a pillow (or my fav: a partner's leg) is enough to make anyone's mouth water. when someone is so close to an accident that they have to distract themselves with the enticing friction of something pressing on their parts? delicious.

peeing in bottles. for dick owners, they have to try and aim their twitching cock into the hole while drops leak out of the tip. for pussys, they have to line up their pee hole with the bottle's opening, oftentimes making a mess because the piss just sprays out too aggressively. either way, it's just sooo *chefs kiss*

physically holding the pee hole shut. this is something i've tried a couple times myself and let me tell you, it's a truly magical thing. with a finger firmly pressed against someone's pee hole, you essentially cut off their option of relief completely. no matter how hard they squirm and relax and even push, nothing can come out. they're forced to sit with the maddening feeling of fullness until eventually the finger is removed and all the piss comes gushing out of them in a torrent.

begging. probably a basic answer but i don't care, i'm a whore for dirty talk. phrases like "i can't hold it much longer" or "i feel so full" or even just "please let me pee" is enough to make me instantly slick. bonus points if there's a term of authority in there like mistress or sir.

peeing outside, especially in the woods. there's something so electrifying about squatting down behind a bush or watching a stream splatter against a tree trunk or make a puddle in the dirt, especially if someone is at their absolute limit and has to find a spot for a last resort.

having to stop mid way through peeing. imagine finally, finally getting the release you crave and then all of a sudden having to shut it off. the shiver you get, the way your pee hole convulses, your bladder aching with all that liquid still trapped inside. my favorite scenarios of this include: being stumbled upon while peeing outside, someone physically pulling a character away from the toilet, a dom stopping a sub's stream just to be mean, and even the classic "i'll just pee a little to relive some pressure."

being tied up while desperate. one time i read this fic about a girl being strapped to a chair and pressed for information by this guy who kept giving her water as "mercy" since she'd been there a while. her bladder started filling and soon she was desperate and he used that to his advantage, pressing on her bulge and teasing her until she broke and told him everything in exchange for access to the bathroom. i can't remember how it ended and god i wish i could find that again, because the idea of being restrained and not even able to squirm is delicious.

the iconic pee dance. i mean come on, what's not to love? when someone's resolve finally crumbles enough for them to abandon all sense of dignity, you know they're truly at their breaking point. seeing the full package is truly a treat; i'm talking hands shoved between thighs, feet prancing back and forth, knees bending up and down, body hunched over at the waist, face scrunched in concentration, the whole ordeal. it's the sexiest sight imaginable, especially if that dance suddenly stills and a flood follows soon after.

[kissbabie]

holding hands with nagi while having sex ♡

nagi who has you in a prone bone position right now. with his chest pressing onto your back, it's enough to make you go crazy as your face is pressed into the pillows and your hands are fisting the sheets. his cock is reaching so deeply inside of you there's drool leaking out of your mouth and onto the pillows. you can only let out muffled whines of "so big sei..." and "hnnghhh.. more please.."

from behind you, nagi lets out his own whimpers. honestly, this man cannot resist you and everytime you let out small gasps of "a-aahh" and "hahhh", he turns more into mush. he's so lucky he thinks, to have someone so pretty underneath him while he gets the opportunity to turn you into a whiny and overstimulated mess, all because of him.

his gaze trails to your hand that's weakly fisting the sheets right now. there's a desire that builds up, one that makes him realize he wants to take your smaller hand into his, and gently trace his thumb over it, in contrast to the hard and deep thrusts he's giving you. he reaches his own arm out a little, placing his hand over yours and intertwines your fingers together.

"h-huuh?" you whimper, not expecting him to do that. to which he simply replies with "jus' wanna hold your hand, pretty girl”

he should not have said that! the pet name results in a loud whine from you, and nagi can feel you fluttering and twitching around his cock. you end up letting out moans, clenching around him tightly as you mumble out a "gonna cum, sei...wanna-i wanna- hahh.. gonna cum all over your cock.. m' gonna make a mess.."

and while of course nagi wants to make you cum, have you creaming all around him, he can't have that just yet. so with whatever resolve he has left, he stops his thrusts, pulls out of you, and flips you onto your back. it's not his fault. if anything, it's yours. he needs to see your pretty face when you fall apart on his cock.

not only are you not that happy that your orgasm was pulled away from you, but you're upset that nagi stopped holding your hand. sure, it's only for a second, and he obviously has to pull his hand away to flip you onto your back, but seriously, what was with him? you didn't even understand why he felt the need to change positions so suddenly.

you look up at him with tearful eyes and a pout. it's enough to really make his heart clench.

"sei...why? stop teasing me.. just wanna cum..." you whine rather pathetically. in response, nagi mutters out a low "sorry angel.. gonna make you feel good now okay? jus' trust me"

before you can respond to him, nagi pushes himself in again, resulting in you throwing your head back as your mouth opens into an 'o' shape. no matter how many times you two have sex, the feeling of his large cock stretching you out is something you can never get used to. even the tip is enough to make you whimper like a cockdrunk mess.

he takes your hand into his, holding it tightly against the mattress as he continues to pound into you. you're letting out obscene moans and whines now. the position is so simple, but his cock is reaching so deep inside of you your brain is turning into mush, the only thoughts being about him.

you're much smaller than him, everything about you. he's so tall sometimes he has to bend down a little just to talk to you. your pussy is so small compared to his cock, every time he places his cock on top of your pussy it's just a big reminder of the size difference between you two.

and even your hands. your hands are so much smaller than his bigger ones. with veins tracing all over his hands, he groans at the sight of your hand being completely engulfed by him, and at the sight of your pussy taking his cock so well that there's lewd noises as his cock pumps in and out of you, and as his heavy balls slap against you.

"angel... shit, stop clenching so tight 'round me.. s' not fair, you're gonna make me cum.."

your eyes are rolling back. it's not long before you can feel your upcoming orgasm, and of course nagi knows it's coming too. he reaches his other hand down to rub circles on your clit. really, it's not fair, he knows exactly how to make you fall apart.

"seishiro!" you squeal, "m' gonna- gonna cum! o-ohh sei, feels so good... harder, harder! wan' it harder..."

a small "hm.." is all nagi replies with.

"c-cumming!!" you gasp out. your mouth opens into a silent scream as nagi fucks you through your orgasm. you're clenching his hand impossibly tight he thinks it might turn white.

when you come down from your high, nagi is still thrusting sloppily into you, trying to reach his own orgasm.

"m' still sensitive, wait.." you can barely hold it together, there's a mess between your pussy and his cock, and nagi can only let out a whimper of "sorry baby.. can't help it. jus' hold onto my hand, kay?"

you nod. and soon enough, nagi is reaching his own orgasm as he gasps out a "angel, angel... gonna cum. m' gonna dump it all into you, kay? be a good girl and take it... hhahhh, gonna keep you all for myself. yeah? you want that?"

it's amusing to see how pathetic nagi gets during sex.

"y-yeahhh sei... cum inside... y-you can dump it into me, jus' wanna be your good girl who takes your cock. only me, no one else.."

when nagi comes, he clutches your hand so tight you feel as if it's going to fall off. you let out whimpers of "so good..." while nagi rambles on and on, saying "ohhh, angel...hahhh, sorry, m' sorry.. m' cumming so much.. take it okay? be a good girl.. yeah baby, lemme fill you up, you really are a mess for my cock huh?"

when nagi's done, he pulls out. he's panting, while you lay there trying to catch your breath. you wiggle your hand out of his, saying you want to show him something. he's confused, furrowing his eyebrows. but you reach down and spread your pussy lips and all of his cum spills out of you.

you look up at him with teary eyes, whining about how "s' leaking out, sei... filled me up too much I can't even hold it.."

seriously, why would you say that? now he's hard again and he groans pathetically, using one hand to cover his eyes as he listens to your whimpers.

finally, he leans down, kisses your forehead, and takes your hand into his once again.

"pretty girl, you can take more right?"

© 𝒌issbabie | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! overstimulation, fingering, oral, squirting, hints of mind break, ex-husband!gojo, pussy-drunk!gojo, cock-drunk!reader, pierced!gojo has his tongue and cock pierced, needy gojo wants to get back to together, mama used one, heavy praise/very light mocking degradation/teasing/confessions, slapping your cunt a few times, light pain kink, scratching your thigh, pinning you down, light size kink, pinning your hands above your head, kissing

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! ❛this is a one time thing.❜ w ex!gojou

Your thighs are tremble, toes curling, slick drips from your squelching cunt. Twisting your hips away from Satoru’s persistent tounge and fingers. He tightens his grasp on your thighs, pulling you back into place, keeping you still.

Grinding your sensitive clit on his soft tongue when he growls. The pleasure of the vibrations and the warm metal bar makes it impossible to think straight.

Lifting your head and biting your lip, Satoru is rutting his hips into your blanket. His pre-cum no doubt smearing on it as the soft sheet rubs his cock.

“Fuckmealreadynnn!” Flopping back onto the bed, propping a leg over Satoru’s broad shoulder, digging your heel in. He flicks his tongue and pumps his fingers faster, the pleasure is intoxicating.

You’re so close, whimpering “I should’ve left when I saw you.” Satoru moans in delight, mocking you, stroking your g-spot making your sloppy cunt squirt. He glides his fingers out, dipping his head down and squeezing your hip tighter.

You’re gushing thick warm cum into his mouth, all over his pretty face. Your body shaking, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping, you can't think, there is only intense pleasure.

He nudges your quivering hole, gliding his tongue in, stroking your clit. Loudly moaning when your sensitive cunt clenches his soft tongue.

Stroking your clit faster, spreading his large hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. You’re a mindless, trembling and moaning mess.

He smears your slick on his cock. “I couldn’t stop, I miss how she tastes n’ squirts for me.” He roughly smacks your cunt. “I miss the wet sound she makes when I smack her, along with how you cry about it.” He hits your cunt harder, smirking when you cry his name.

He groans “Now that is something I've been dreaming about. How about you cry my name like that with my cock deep in ya?” Leaning over you he grabs your headboard and lines his cock up. Swiping himself between your lip, gliding his cock head over your clit.

Satoru pushes his cock up with a slow sensual roll of his hips. Dragging his cock down, you shiver when the soft ridge of his cock rubs your clit.

Without thinking you confess, “You’ve gotten bigger, it isn’t fair.” Satoru glides his cock in, admiring your little hole stretching as you take his cock. The ridge of his head tugging in your cunt when he softly pulls away.

“Is it because we both that my height, strength, and sculpted body makes your cunt wet?” He grabs your wrists and pins them together above your head with one hand. “Is that what makes you a weak little slut for my cock every time you see me?”

Your cunt clenches his cockhead, his hand are big and soft. It feels wonderful when he caresses your body. “I can't get enough, I thought being with you one more time would be enough, but I only miss you more.” Squeezing your hip, dragging his nails down your thigh, then massaging your soft tit, rubbing your nipple with his thumb.

The way Satoru is fucking your tight, sensitive cunt is overwhelming. The weight of his cock, the softness of his skin and the three metal bars rubbing the inside of your cunt is such a wonderful sensation.

You’re losing your resolve, it takes everything in you to remind yourself, “This is a one-time thing, we go back to living how we did before?” He whines, cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink.

“You don't sound certain of that mama, is it because you’re thinking about how good we were together before? We can be like that again.” He slips his fingers in between your’s, holding your hand whilst clinging onto your hip. Angling his hips perfectly to rub your g-spot.

You whine “You mean before you left meeee,” He strokes your clit. “You’re an asshole, I don’t miss you.” He softly kisses your forehead, your sloppy wet, sensitive cunt squelches when he fucks his pierced cock into you harder.

Satoru taunts you, “That’s not what your sloppy wet cunt is telling me sweetheart.” He softly kisses you, slipping his tongue in when you mouth and whining when you softly bite his tongue. You moan, giving into his needy kiss.

You slip your fingers into Satoru’s soft hair, and wrap your legs around his waist. When he pulls away you whine, “Fuck you!”

He croons with a smirk, “Any time you want, you’re the one saying this has to be a one time thing, even though we are perfect together.”

Oreo’s m.list

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #9

"This portal will bring you back to your time safely."

The young teen, well kid in Dick's eyes said before them, pointing towards a green vortex. Dick felt relieved but also a twist in his gut. Time travel adventures always had their pro and cons. He was sure that they hadn't messed up anything, Damian wouldn't end up with a new hair cut this time, nor any of his brother. Hell Jason was even apparently cleaned out from some bad ectoplasm.

Yet...

They had spend some time here, fixing Ra's newest dumb idea to get Damian back on his side. They had bonded with this kid from the past. A young hero at the age of 14, barely older than Damian himself.

The kid had gotten tricked by Ra at first then they ended up in his time resolving the mess and bonding with this kid. Like really bonded with this kid. Like B starting to mentor the kid like he did all of them. Tim tinkering and engineering with him. Jason bantering and joking with the kid, even Damian bonded with him, thanks to one size changing ghost dog. Not to mention Dick bonded with the kid a lot too.

And it sucked in Dick's opinion. He glanced at his family, even if they all were in gear and wearing masks, he could see the small signs in the way they where holding themselves. The small indications, movements barely noticeable to anyone else.

Hell he could even see it in Bruce, the way the man tensed just a little bit. The small twitch of the man's lip, the little minuscule tilt. It was all there and only for the Batfamily to see.

Dick put on a smile, burying that twisted feeling in his gut.

Like they all did.

Like they all were forced to do.

He watched Tim make one last souvenir selfie. Well they all had one with the kid. Made at various points during their stay in this time. Even Damian sneaked making one using the excuse of wanting a selfie with that big green ghost dog.

"We will be on our way then kid." He tried sounding cheerful and by the smile the kid gave him, he was sure he hit the right tone of voice. "Don't be a stranger when we meet again."

He smiled still, knowing his family caught on to the fact that he said 'when' not 'if'.

Because it was obvious.

In their short time here, they all but officially, had adopted the kid into the family. Dick would joke that he kid would fit right in with them while they were here. Jason lamenting how Bruce had a type with kids. Bruce had had that minuscule uplift to his lip whenever they had joked around with the kid.

But again, this wasn't their time.

And that's why time travel sucked.

You make bonds, maybe even new family.

But they wouldn't be there when you are back in the time you belong.

But Dick was determined. When they stepped through that vortex, when he looked back at the kid waving to them. He knew what he had to do the moment they were back in their time.

He just hoped the kid would remember them, remember his words of not being a stranger.