#as per older requires

[bandsanitizer]

5SOS5 Lyricism: Part 1

since the ending of bad omens makes me want to scream (/pos) and I’m pretty blown away with 5sos’ lyrics on this album, I have done a track-by-track of lyrics in 5SOS5 that make my english minor brain yell and some analysis. totally open to discussing their lyricism more and I am debating doing a more chaotic, less technical, overall track-by-track!

just a heads up that I refer to the “I” of the songs as the “speaker” and just refer to the subject as “you” (quotations included). this is all in good fun and not meant to claim knowledge of the band’s lives nor intents. additionally, the use of “you” (no quotations) is not referring to you, the reader, but some ambiguous being of hypothetical situation. it is used to avoid confusion with the pronouns I use for the speaker.

breaking this up into two parts and putting it under the break bc this got to be very long (imagine if I put this much work into my degree)

COMPLETE MESS

“this evanescence always fleeting like a flame / but I’m never one to change, am I?”

first off, the contrast of “evanescence” & “fleeting” with “always”. the conflicting ideas of impermanence that is guaranteed to occurred. coupled with the speakers questioned lack of change, is stresses the contrast between the “you” and the “I” of the song. the softer “-scence” and “fl-” sounds that dissipate like the lyrics described in contrast with the second line’s harsher “ne-” and “ch-”

the bridge & breakdown portion being repeated lyrics from earlier in the song

granted the band isn’t known for having the most contrasting bridges, the repetition of the first verse but excluding the question about never changing is a direct example of the lack of change. it’s the song addressing the way the “you” makes the speaker feel and yet we literally encounter a lack of change.

Easy for You to Say

“… it’s coming in waves / a sunrise in Sydney that’s burning for days”

once again! contrast! the first association of waves with water that conflicts with the fire of “burning” but then the association of heat in “sunrise” with heatwaves. the water notion then recurring with “drenched in my pain” later in the verse. which considering the song is about reflection towards the past, the contrast with the Sydney line emphasizes the separation of the past and the speaker.

“a piece of peace of mind”

alliteration and homophones! also the plosives disrupt the sounds present a contrast to the previous lines (even in the choice of singing, the p-sounds are given a bit of exaggeration) which reflect the fear of something peaceful/settled/soft.

“I feel it in moments … / between all the gasping, I finally breathe”

first! anaphora of the first lines of the verses—the change from sight to touch. that instead of just seeing the moments, the speaker is immersing themself in. which we could consider diving into them. that ties back to the first verse’s water allusions and the second line of the second verse relating to the experience of holding your breath in order to go under water. the concept then reflecting the song being of reflection—how it requires immersion in memories to process and learn and move forward from them.

Bad Omens

“can’t help the way I keep ignoring every omen”

in my experience, “omen” typically has negative connotations, despite the word itself being neutral in meaning. this idea applied to this line in the chorus emphasizes the idea of the last line of the chorus “it’s nothing I don’t already know”. that if we consider the speaker has been overlooking all the signs of the relationship falling apart but being aware of them, it’s similar to reading “omen” neutrally when one should be considered the bad thing coming.

“I should’ve known right then and there, you were a runaway / oh, just make it go away / can you help me rearrange it? / I’m still making sense of having nothing left to save”

the contrast of “then and there” alluding to the act of planting oneself with “runaway” being the opposite in action. also the second line’s “it” is likely referring to signs the earlier lines in the verse and song describe, yet “runaway” and implication of the “you” loving someone else creates the exact ending the speaker wishes for. this showcases that the omens and “you” cannot be separated, hence the asking to “rearrange”. that as the speaker comes to realize all the signs and what it means for the relationship, they don’t know what to do with the fact that it’s the relationship they need to let go off in order for both of them to be happy.

“we go around again, we jump back in bed / that’s what you do when you love somebody”

“around again” and “back” referring to the cycle experienced in the relationship also reflected in the repetition of the bridge. also the second line expressing that this repetition—the holding on—is what love is.

“that’s what you do when you love somebody // else (when you love somebody) / else (when you love somebody)”

eNJAMBMENT MY BELOVED! okay but seriously. it’s the plot twisting of the “when you love somebody” line not only referring to the speakers reluctance to let go, but also all the omens the “you” presents to the speaker. it’s the idea of love being the reason why the speaker is blind to the warning signs but also why the warning signs exist in the first place. additionally, the avoidance of ending on “else” reflects the speakers avoidance of the realty of the relationship as well as their avoidance of ending the relationship (enjambment requires the following line to finish the thought -> without ending on “else”, the speaker is trapped in the loop of loving the “you” rather than facing that the “you” loves “somebody / else”.

Me, Myself, & I

overall repetition of the same verse(s)

honestly, there’s not a whole lot going on lyrically in this song. I do believe it is one they wrote primarily with radio play in mind (short, sounds good feels good, lyrics are easy to learn). however! the idea of the song is that the speaker is lonely—perhaps even isolated. that following bad omens, they are essentially abandoned. the repetition, then, conveys something similar to a room full of mirrors—no matter which way you turn, you are left with yourself. no matter where the song goes sonically, the lyrics do not change. also, being trapped in a mindset of “I am alone” can occasionally be a narcissistic outlook (ie: “everyone else was the problem, not me” or “where is everyone?” after you pushed them away), which the idea of room of mirrors & repetition of “me, myself, & I” follows.

“la-la-lie”

this is very similar to the hook in lie to me. which is a song about the speaker wanting to not be told the truth, but what they want to hear. which following up bad omens, it’s almost as if the speaker is putting their comfort above the genuine feelings of the “you”. it’s narcissistic in refusing the “you” their truth and conveys a refusal to escape the cycle described in bad omens, as this song repeats and repeats.

“... me, myself, and—”

interestingly, this song ends with a missing “I” at the end, similar to how bad omens leaves the listener waiting for a final “else. comparing the two songs being focused on the “you” to being focused on the “I” (respectively), it creates a connection between the “somebody / else” loved by the “you” and the speaker that was left behind. the similarity also shows that in the speaker’s refusal to acknowledge the “else” at the end of bad omens, they are also refusing to fully recognize the singularity of themself at the end of this song, despite already being aware as the song itself implies.

Take My Hand (Joshua Tree Version)

“a painted heart on the sidewalk / a bleeding sun on a silver screen”

the similar words to the chorus of comedown from wfttwatf (“bursting sunrise” and “a change of heart and a silver lining down camellia street”) just makes me want to yell. that is all.

“a few more souls on the bus now”

the bus metaphor! also I know I’m avoiding making implications about the autobiographical nature of the songs, but the idea of “a few more souls” referring to luke finding the rest of the band & muke + their partners.

“young man, look in the mirror / take my hand and don’t you ever let go”

wfttwtaf was about facing the past and so in this lyric, the speaker is instructing their reflection (ie: the person they see themself as) to hold on. to accompany them into the present and the future. it is an acceptance of self. also, the idea of letting go vs. holding on is very prevalent in the album. so where the speaker is letting go/let go of in previous tracks, they are asking themself not to.

“shut my eyes at seventeen” vs “open eyes right at twenty-three”

a cool connection between the two pre-chorus which describes the growth and change that the choruses ask for.

second verse as a whole

imo most of the lyrics in this song stand out in the story-telling aspect/sounding poetic, rather than a technical/clever play of words, use of sound, figurative language. that said, the second verse’s lines all ending on softer/slipperier/drawn-out sounds, gives a lullaby-esque/mirage feel to the song that conveys some idea of comfort (kind of like how holding someone’s hand can be comforting/guiding) and something unsettling false (transitioning from eyes closed to open as if escaping a false sense of security in ignoring some aspect of time/memory/life).

“take my hand” repetition

is it a demand? a plead? I think the latter. which is an interesting idea to want to hold onto oneself, but also in reverse. the question then becomes is the present speaker asking their younger self to take their hand? or the other way around?

CAROUSEL

“I built it from the ground up just to watch me burn it down”

contrast in the song’s first line again! the opposing “up” and “down”. also the fire motif of “burn” returns. an interesting contrast of this song’s destructive burning and the idea of a “burning sunrise” in Sydney being connected to the band’s origins.

“I tried to keep my head above the ocean of my doubt”

more water lyrics! like the previous lyric discussed, this line ties back to some of the imagery in easy for you to say. I think it paints this song to be an expansion of efyts, a follow-up where the speaker begins to try looking forward instead of back. which on a carousel would essentially be the same direction... the idea of cycles/circular motion/repetition continues. (also “spinning”)

“looking for myself in the passenger’s side / driving to the edge til I get this right”

this band and their driving and their cars. calling back to the lie to me music video... a very interesting analysis of being passive in life/lacking direction can emerge but that’s for a different post.

“around” and “now” repetition

yes this is more of the same lines repeating in the song, but either way, it creates a circular motion in the lyrics—no matter what happens, the song returns to a point it has already hit. lyrics are going in circles just like a carousel. in fact many of the songs on the album and most songs in general, reveal a circular motion (whether it’s me, myself, & I or what a chorus is). also the way that “now”s ending sound drags creates this tugging sensation, similar to the way a carousel pushes you through the turn to continue the circle. the present is continuously tugging the speaker along—the one-way ride of life.

Older

“as forever comes closer / hope the world will spin slower”

when I first heard the first line I thought of “objects in mirror are closer than the appear” on car mirrors. this connected back to the driving lyrics in carousel. the second line also connects back to carousel despite being initially appearing to be about time passing -> days passing -> earth’s rotation. while the speaker, in the previous song, wants the ride to continue and almost enjoys the continuous pace, they recognize in this song that the passage of time inevitably ends in death. that there is forever implied with marriage, but this life does have an end (next lives/afterlife differing for different people). the speaker acknowledges that the ride eventually must stop, but wishes for it to go slower as if to extend their time/better experience each moment with “you”.

“the promises roll-off your breath / in your cocaine-colored wedding dress”

on it’s own, I think this is a very clever couplet. “cocaine” is playing off of the imagery of the previous life—it is a great lyric except for the part of it being in this song. I do think it would function better in the context of a song about divorce/strained relationship. the idea of love and drugs is a common trope/theme and in the context of how the high of being loved/loving someone can be blinding, the couplet opens an interesting exploration. that said, it seems the speaker is acknowledging the inevitable end when it comes to their partner, in parallel to the inevitable end of a high. to which I have opinions on the way western media treats drugs as cool, etc. that I can’t really appreciate this lyric fully/unbiasedly. regardless of the context of the song, though, it stands alone as a smart play with imagery.

“my dear devoted delicate”

alliteration! it’s listing terms of endearment as if saying “my love, my love, my love”, where affection simply cannot be contained in one word. also the contrasting harshness of the beginning of “dear” and the last syllable of “devoted” with the softer (more delicate) sound of “delicate”. in the same way this song ties the beauty of the speaker and their partner’s relationship with the inevitable ending, the line mixes harsher and softer sounds in terms of endearment. it’s recognizing both strength and softness, it’s a love that seeks to care for but also must be cared for.

“it’s not worth it if I lose my one-way ticket for two”

first the slsp parallel: “... showed up with a plane ticket / and a shiny diamond ring with your name on it”!!!! second, this is all about commitment! on one hand the loss of the ticket could be death, on the other hand, it’s the speaker accepting the the cost of marriage/said commitment, is that eventually things come to an end. that they’re here for the journey more than the destination.

“I don’t want to get older / without your head on my shoulder”

best years: “I want to hold your hand while we’re growing up” except instead of the speaker seeming to look for comfort as they age, the reverse exists: the speaker wants to be someone that the “you” can lean on as they grow. the rhyme is so good! and the connection of “shoulder” with “older” is cool, where one grows as the get older, thus their shoulder becomes a better place to rest on—they hope to become a better person to depend on as they grow.

“your wicked smile, it says it all / mixed with my sad and cynical / no tragedy at the end / no, nothing shakespearean”

first two lines present the “you” and the speaker as opposites. similar to how the song contemplates the conflict of promising forever and forever having an unknown expiration date, the speaker and their partner represent the love that knows no end and the reality of life that love exists in the context of. the “all” vs “cynical” line endings are also interesting contrasts where having it “all” can be an optimistic view opposed to cynical, and also in that “cynical” ends in “all” except minus an l (it does not have it all).

second two lines are a very specific metaphor which I absolutely love in songwriting, etc.. shakespeare is well-known for his tragedies, so the speaker is asking for the ending (despite being death) to not end sad or tragic, but to fully recognize the beauty of love that they did have.

first and last chorus

starting and ending on the chorus plays on the idea of spinning in the lyrics of this song and the carousel metaphor of life. that tied to how sierra is there on the last but not the first, also parallels the theme of the song, where in life the speaker starts out without their partner, but eventually is joined in life by them, and while eventually there comes an ending, for now they have their partner with them.

HAZE

“got me feeling alright when the feeling’s long gone / got me feeling uptight every moment you’re gone”

the contrasting l-sound of “aright” vs. p-sound and t-sounds of “uptight” create a reflection of the feelings described in the lyrics. the l-sounds of the first line are drawn, they’re lazing, they’re unworried and dissipating. the harder sounds of the second line are stressed, they’re attentive, they call awareness to themselves like the speaker is aware of the “you”s absence.

“ventura was a ghost town, the city broke my heart, heart”

I just love specific lyrics lol but also the idea of a “ghost town” and how the line begins to fade with the “heart” repetition like the line is mimicking the leaving of people from the town

Part 2

[beholdthemem]

I live within bus distance of the Universal picket line for the writer’s strike, so I like to go down there when I can to march with em in solidarity. They are all extremely cool people, and since many of them are older than me, I have been treated to a lot of free advice on Adult Life from more experienced adults. 10/10.

It’s also extremely funny to hear them talk shit about studios/executives that they’ve had to put up with, because they’re no longer required to pretend Oh, They’re All Such Lovely People, We’re So Lucky To Work For Them.

- “Dick Wolf insists on having an a personal office at every studio where his shows are worked on. He never goes to half of them, and when he does, he’s not usually there long. It’s just supposed to be left empty for him in case he MIGHT show up.”

“I took a bunch of coffee creamers from there just before we called the strike.”

“Honestly, that sounds fair?”

“I like to think of it as payment for all the extra work I had to do for free.”

- “Never work for Netflix if you can avoid it.”

“Oh my God, RIGHT? It’s a nightmare!”

“That is the most exploited I’ve ever been, and I’ve been doing this for a while so that says a LOT.”

- “Do they ever acknowledge how many laws the cops break during a single episode of any of those SVU spinoffs?”

“We’re not even allowed to use the phrase ‘Bad apples’ because it makes them uncomfortable.”

- “Humor does not exist in the Dick Wolf-verse, so we’re only allowed to include one joke per episode. Sometimes I like to play a little game where I see if I can get away with sneaking in a second.”

“Has that ever worked?”

“I think once we got in a subtle pun.”

[bbbuckaroo]

Tommy’s Timeline According To Lou’s Age Prediction:

NOTE: Updated (best I could) post 07x09 with Tommy’s “five years” response to Gerrard.

So curious about Lou saying Tommy is in his late 30’s in that new Cameo. He himself was born in 1984 and turning 40 in November so I’m assuming he’s using his own age. So his timeline to be turning 40 in 2024 would be:

*note: most of this is Google research*

2002 (18-19): Joins the Army as an Officer (about twelve weeks of flight training, not sure if the basic training is required but regardless, we’ll call it a year) which you can do as a “fast track” per Google

2003 (19): Officially becomes pilot for the army

This is where it gets interesting. In exchange for flight school the army requires you do six years of service unless of course you are discharged, presumably honorably.

In order for him to be turning 40 in 2024 he had to be no older than 21 when Chimney joined the 118 in 2005.

2003-2005 (19-21): Actively flying for the army

So something must have happened after those 2-3 years that lead to him being discharged before the ten years. Which I REALLY hope they touch on in a Tommy Begins *nudge nudge Tim*

2005 (21): Starts at the 118, Chimney begins at 118 soon thereafter

2008 (24): Hen begins at 118, Capt. Gerrard is booted

2016 (32): Bobby begins at 118 after ~8 captains between him and Gerrard

2017 (33): Tommy leaves the 118 to go to 217/Buck begins at 118 (hello invisible string)

2017-2019 (33-35): Firefighter with 217

Another iffy area: in 07x09 when talking to Gerrard he says he’s only been at Harbor for five years, so there’s a two year discrepancy. No clear distinction between 217 and Harbor, just interesting that Tommy says Harbor instead of the station number. So either a different station or a different division. I’m leaning towards a more sophisticated/advanced division with mass disasters vs. metropolitan SAR’s like Lucy.

2019-2024 (35-40): Pilot at Harbor, meets Buck year he is turning 40 (especially with Lou’s late birthday so technically still late 30’s)

So in closing, in order for Lou’s timeline to work, Tommy was only flying with the army for 2-3 years vs. the required six so something unusual had to happen for him to leave.

Summary:

1984: Born

2002-2003 (18-19): Joins army and completes officer/pilot training

2003-2005 (19-21): Helicopter pilot for the army

2005-2017 (21-33): Firefighter with 118

2017-2019 (33-35): Firefighter with 217

2019-2024 (35-turning 40): Firefighter pilot with Harbor *unclear if this is a division of 217 or its own station*

2024: Meets love of his life who is now 32 (eight year age difference) *wedding in the next couple of years would be lovely-nobody’s getting any younger!*

[readychilledwine]

A Debt Paid in Full

Summary - Your father shouldn't have sent his prettiest daughter after refusing to pay his Tithe

Warnings - this is unhinged and kind of dark, virgin reader, younger female/older male, manipulation, smut, beron is... surprisingly giving and slightly charming but arrogant. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding Kink, beron

A/N - You all asked for it. Please don't ask for more. I feel dirty 🤣

The Whore Home Masterlist

“Such a pretty little thing, aren't you?” Being circled by the High Lord of Autumn had to have been the scariest thing you had ever experienced. “Is that why Daddy sent you? Does he think a nice pair of tits will buy him time to pay his tithe?”

“No, my lord,” yes, you thought instantly. “He is just busy over looking the land and farms. He apologizes for sending a female in his place, but you know how we are when it comes to business.”

Beron seemed to smile as he studied you again. “I imagine you already know you are only useful for certain,” he paused, looking over your frame again, a true smile forming at what he saw, “activities.”

“My father taught me my place, yes.”

“How old are you?”

“302, my lord.”

“And unmarried?” He tisked slightly. “And unpresented to the court as an available female?” He circled you again, a new dangerous light gleaming in those eyes. “Why?”

You took a deep breath. “My mother needed me home to help with my younger siblings, and now that they no longer require me, I am a spinster per our standards, my lord. I am not a viable option for marriage.”

“But you are for fucking. Or for a second wife. A pretty little toy to keep around when someone's lady refused to come warm their bed.”

“Ah, a second choice. How very desirable. I will stay unwed. Be the village witch.” The statement was out before you could stop it. Beron paused midwalk, looking at you with those dark eyes and his brows raised. “I apologize.”

“You are lucky you are very, very beautiful.” A hand went to your light red hair. “Your spring court mother did you quite the favor. Her fair blonde hair mixed with red. You are a unique treasure.”

An odd feeling set into your stomach at his constant compliments, at his hand twirling your hair, his body so close to yours you could feel the fire that ran within him.

The Autumn Lord was by no means an ugly male. He had produced 7 beautiful sons, each one resembling him but with their mother's eyes and hair. He was fit, body lined and cut with muscle you could make out under his fine tailored clothing. 

“I believe you and I could reach a compromise, y/n. Regarding your father's discretion.” The sinking feeling of what he meant hit you as a hand trailed your lower back. “Your father knows I collect beautiful things, and you, little fox, are a beautiful thing.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, my lord?”

“Is it an attempt when I can smell it clearly is working?” Beron walked you back to the wall, a hand resting on your hip and the other going behind your head to protect you from impact. “Is this what females dream of? A fae lord to whisk them away from their troubles, shower them in luxurious gifts and clothing?”

“I just dreamed of being taken away. The rest did not matter.” Beron smirked at the words, something that should have made your skin recoil but instead caused heat to settle between your legs. 

“Let's make a bargain, little fox. You stay with me, be my little second wife, and your family never pays a tithe again.”

Your eyes widened at the offer. It was a sacrifice you could make. What was your life in exchange for the safety of your family with your father's choice to ignore the tithe collection. Beron was handsome, the Forest House was beautiful, but he was cruel. “I want to be treated well.”

Beron hummed. “You will be, if you stay in line. Keep that pretty mouth in check. I was kind today. I will not always tolerate your attitude, though.”

The hand resting on your hip began to trail to the curve of your ass, the hand previously resting behind your head now, allowing him to lean into you and cage you into his body and the wall. “How soon?”

“Tonight. I have never been known to be a male with patience when I want something.”

“Why marriage? Why not just my maidenhood?” The question seemed to spark something in him, eyes growing darker and the scent of arousal being to consume every breath. 

“Why would I allow something so pretty to slip between my fingers? Especially when I didn't know I would be the one to ruin her? Yes or no. My tolerance for your questions is wearing thin and I can easily just drop you off as I have my eldest arrest your father.” 

What was your life, in exchange for the safety of theirs? “Yes.” 

That one word was all it took for him to pounce. Lips finding yours and dominating a heated kiss. He winnowed you from the room, taking you to what must have been his personal suite and walked you back to the bed. His hands roamed everywhere before picking you up and placing you on the softest bed you had ever dreamed of. “How attached to your dress are you?” The kisses moved to your jawline as he awaited his answer. 

“I'm not.”

“Good. I will give you a thousand more.”He burned every thread from your body, groaning at the newly exposed skin, so soft and untouched. Untested and unexplored. “I think your father knew I'd be weak for you. Your younger sisters had been presented to my court and married off, yet here you are. Hidden away because you were his most precious gem.” 

All you could do was whimper as soft thumbs ran over your nipples. Pinching them lightly. His lips ran to your neck, feeling like a trail of fire as they did. Every inch of you became so sensitive that you broke out in goosebumps. He stopped at a spot that made your back arch, sucking the skin there until you were sure you would bruise before continuing his path down. 

When he finally reached your breasts, he stopped temporarily, scooting you up the pillows a bit more before removing his crown and placing it on head. “Be a good pet and hold this for me.” You couldn't help but to laugh, but that quickly turned into another moan. “So responsive.” The praise quickly shot to your core just as a hand did, running along your soaked folds with an arrogant laugh. 

Every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch on your core had you mewling for him, back arching as you whined. When one finger pushed in and curled up, hitting a spot in you that you would have never found before immediately pulling it back out . “And such pretty noises.” You couldn't help but grip the sheets, praying to any God who would listen as his kisses continued lower until he settled between your legs. 

“Perfect. Just absolutely perfect.” Beron was oddly gentle, kissing your thigh. You could have died when he first licked at your core, growling as he did and nudging that precious bundle of nerves. 

“Beron,” you whispered almost in warning, fingers gripping the sheets tighter. 

“Ssh, relax.” He continued to motion again, setting your nerves a light and making you cry out at the foreign feeling. He continues then, slow methodical licks. Watching from lust filled hooded eyes as your back arched, as your mouth fell open, as your nails dug so deeply into his mattress your knuckles turned white. 

When his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking light as his tongue pressed into it, you saw stars. Then his fingers, his damned fingers pushed back inside of you, stretching you out and preparing you for him. It was all too much, yet not enough. He used his free hand to pin your hips down, leaving you with no escape from his mouth. 

Your stomach started to feel tight, and your mind became hazy, core clenching at the now two fingers pushing in and out, scissoring and dancing on the sensitive spot you have only read about in novels. You went barreling over the edge quickly, feeling him smirk on your core as you screamed for him. He pulled his mouth away, keeping his fingers deep inside of you, working you open for him. 

You had not even noticed him remove his clothing using magic, but he was bare before you. Scars littered his muscled chest and shoulders. They danced along his back and ribs. They were a reminder of his cruelty born in a place of hatred for his own father, his own upbringing. But for some reason, now of that matter, as he kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “Give me one more, y/n. Cum on my fingers before you get my cock.” 

He increased his rhythm, holding your head up to keep that golden crown resting on your head. His experience was quick to bring you over the edge again, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he did. 

He also kept your eyes on him as he used your slick to lubricate his cock, kept your eyes on him as he centered himself. And he kept your eyes on him as he pushed in, watching your mouth fall open again as the burn from being so full took over. Watching in sadistic glee as you whined and moaned. He barely gave you time to adjust, letting go of the back of your head in favor of pounding into you over and over. 

Now you truly could have died. You could have died with a smile growing on your face as he pulled out before forcing you to take all of him back in, making the pain quickly turn into a burning need as the scent of sex and sweat filled the air. He moved your legs, placing one over each shoulder and fucking so deep into you that you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. “So tight, pet.” His voice was breathy as his head fell back in pleasure. “Such a perfect cunt.” 

His thrusts became harder as he watched your face, trying to figure out what you liked. And a sudden gasp shifting to a wail of pleasure told him exactly what it was. Over and over, he hit that spot inside of you, the one he had found earlier with his fingers. His eyes almost seemed to roll as you grew tighter, clenching and twitching around him, swallowing him whole.

“Perhaps I should breed you as well. Make sure this pretty pussy stays mine.” Your body responded before you verbally could, gripping him higher and thighs beginning to shake. “You like that, don't you? Like the idea of being used, being bred. Fuck you're perfect. So fucking perfect.” His fingers found your clit again, massaging the swollen bundle of nerves as he buried himself into you. 

Completion found you again, ripping you so deep into pleasure as you milked his cock that you couldn't help but to fall into a silent scream. Beron fell over after you, heat passing through the room as he did and intensifying everything. He allowed your legs to fall from his shoulders. Catching himself on his forearms above you, he sat and watched as you came down from the high. He studied you like a new toy, plotting and planning what he would do to you. “Yes,” he spoke more to himself than you. “You will be quite fun to keep.”

Beron Smut Taglist:

@secret-third-thing

[gothcsz]

Dusk | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become a park ranger at a national park in California after breaking up with your ex. You meet Joel Miller, the chief ranger there, and find yourself absolutely smitten over him.

Tags: smut, attempted assault (not by joel), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), no use of Y/N, reader is a professor, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i wrote this during a long car ride in my notes app so i’m NAWT liable for any mistakes xoxo this is also my first attempt at writing joel so i hope i did our man justice 😋

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.”

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that!”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

And he does, god does he take good care of her and you for the remainder of the night.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Potionology Tutoring

SUMMARY: How would it be if they were assigned by Professor Crewel to help you with your potionology lessons?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader 

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: People seem to like mine Broom Flying Tutoring post, so I decided to do the same with Potions. I hope you enjoy this one as well. ;)

CONTEXT: It is normal and very useful for first year students to be helped by their older peers from the same dorm. Unfortunately you're not that lucky since you're the only student in your dorm.

Professor Crewel can see that you are a hard-working pup, but not having magic also makes you need to work harder than others. So he decided to give you a little treat. He will assign someone to help you. But not one of your troublemaker friends. Someone that could actually help you.

Professor Crewel choose Riddle for two reasons: first because he is one, if not the best student in the class. And second: you told him that Riddle had already offered to help you other times.

As with any other school work, Riddle is a strict tutor. But he's more patience to you than he is to his Heartslabyul students. He understands that not having magic hinders your learning. And the more he sees that you're making an effort, the nicer he'll be with you.

He will warn you before you make a mistake when making a potion. And then he'll tell you to pay more attention.

If you say that potions are like cooking, he will disagree. But if thinking like this helps you in potionology, then he will encourage you to think differently from him on that point.

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he will stand behind you and guide your hand with his. He will start by doing this because he thinks it will help you, and only halfway through the process will he realize what he is doing. he'll try to put it out of his mind so as not to spoil the lesson.

If you fail to make the potion, he will not be irritated, unless it failed due to your inattention. He'll be more disillusioned. But he will tell you that he can continue to tutor you if you want to improve. But he also warns you that the longer it takes for you to get better, the stricter he will be to you.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he will smile proudly at you and congratulate you. He will tell you that it is very rewarding to have a student like you. He is genuinely happy for you. And he'll offer to continue tutoring you, as seeing you succeed made him feel so good.

Professor Crewel choose Leona for two reasons: first because he is one, if not the best student in the class. But second: being good at potions isn't enough to pass his class. So, he's going to force Leona to do this to make up for his absences.

Leona is the best worst teacher ever. He's the best because he's really good at potions, but he's the worst for the way he "tries to teach you". He will constantly remind you that he's only doing it because he has to. But still he will teach you correctly.

He will not warn you before you make a mistake when making a potion. He'll enjoy watching the potion get all over your face. If he is in a good mood he can still say: Are you sure about that, herbivore?

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he’ll stand behind you and guide your hand with his. And he will know perfectly well what he is doing with you. If he feels bold maybe will whisper in his ear. If he has to be there, at least he'll have some fun messing with his herbivore.

If you fail to make the potion, he’ll be annoyed. You're giving him so much work. But if you look also upset with yourself. “*Sigh* Oi, don’t be like that. Nobody learns the first try. And you don't even have magic. We’ll do it like this, I keep teaching you until you achieve the minimum, but I will need to be rewarded.” He smirks.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he'll smile at you and say you were better than he expected from a herbivore. He’ll "thank" you for not giving him to much work.

Professor Crewel didn't choose Azul. He volunteered himself. Crewel didn't bother asking how the hell he knew about that and just accepted it because he was an excellent student and saved him work.

And you knew that wasn't a good sign! You are absolutely sure that he will want something in return! You know him. And you were right. The problem is that, after several failed attempts to convince you that he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart, he ends up saying that he still doesn't know what he wants from you. He was just hoping to make you owe him one.

He will be extremely friendly with you, just as he is with his other "clients". But if you have a crush on each other, you can take advantage of it to tease him. He can be very good with business, but in terms of making someone blush you have the upper hand on him.

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he’ll stand behind you and guide your hand with his. But not without his heart starting to beat slightly faster. Only you to do this to him. But he is confident in his skills and therefore knows that he is showing you his best side.

If you fail to make the potion, he’ll be in an even better mood. Because the more you need him the biggest the favour he can ask of you. Be worried and careful.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he'll congratulate you and say how proud he is of you. What a wonderful student you are. And, of course, if you still need tutoring he'll be more than glad to help you... Now, the subject of payment...

Professor Crewel was thinking of Housewarden. But Asim? Absolutely not! The Vice Housewarden of Scarabia on the other hand was a great candidate. But he had to assure Jamil that he would get someone to look after Kalim in the meantime.

He is indeed an excellent teacher. He is patient, explains things well, gives useful tips, etc. If you notice that he's even enjoying it and you ask about it, he can tell that is for a mix of things. First: you're a good student and much easier and more rewarding to teach than certain someones. Which in turn lets him get some rest and he is extremely grateful to you for that.

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he’ll stand behind you and guide your hand with his. And if we mix him being in a good mood with having a crush on you, he is able to say some sweet things in your ear.

If you fail to make the potion, he will not be mad or annoyed. After all he tutors Kalim a lot of times. And he would choose to help you over him anytime. In fact, come to think of it, if that means he has to be with you more often and get more rest from Kalim, this is the best case scenario for him.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he'll congratulate you and praise you for being such a good student. And thinking of the same reasons as above, he will offer to continue tutoring you whenever you want or need to.

Professor Crewel choose Vil because he is one, if not the best student in the class. After all, to become the Housewarden of Pomefiore a student must be able to make the deadliest poison out of all their peers.

He’s a strict teacher, no surprises there. Actually, he's really similar to Crewel. with you don't know if it's a good or a bad thing. The problem is that in addition to criticizing your technique for making potions, he will also criticize your lab coat and probably other clothing and stuff. But will also give you tips to improve on both.

The fact that he's so good at potions and, worse, knowing it, makes him more cocky than usual.

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he will verbally explain how to do it and you will have to be able to do it yourself. If you pout a little while you're wiggling and he notices, he'll wait until you succeed on your own, and while you're distracted by being proud of yourself, you'll be caught off guard by a kiss on your cheek. “Isn't it better to succeed all by yourself?”

If you fail to make the potion, he’ll be disappointed. He's pretty sure the potion failed because you weren't paying paying close enough attention. That's why Professor Crewel has given you a tutor. But, like him, Vil also sees potential in you, so he offers to continue tutoring you. But you have to pay more attention!

If you end up making the potion successfully, he'll smile and congratulate you. Probably will give you another "well done" kiss on the cheek. And will say if you ever need a tutor again to talk to him. But only after you've tried it yourself and are really struggling.

Professor Crewel choose Idia for two reasons: first because he is one of the best student in the class. And second: he always has problems getting Idia into group work, maybe it could be different with you and he can finally evaluate this parameter of his.

He is very relaxed about potionology itself. This is child's play for him. Which also triggers his cockiness. But unlike with other Housewordens, this doesn't intimidate you. In fact he is more intimidated by you when he sees you mad at him for talking to you like your a loser. “Fine, fine, I'll stop... D-don't look at me like that...”

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he’ll verbally explain how to do it. And if you still can't do it (or pretend you can't to see what he does) he'll be like "Here, I'll show you." and will stand behind you and guide your hand with his. Only to realize what he just did and walk away from you with the tips of his hair pink.

If you fail to make the potion, he will laugh at you and then regret it when he sees your face. “He he he. Sorry, sorry. I don't remember the last time I've teach a noob. It's kinda funny.” you keep glaring at him sullenly. “O-okay, w-what about we keep trying on other day? But you have to convince Grim-shi to let me pet him, and then you can unlock a better Idia-sensei mode.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he'll look glad and relieved. If you ask “You really didn't want to do this, did you?” he'll be like “Meh, it's not so bad. You're not like those annoying extroverts. So, I don't mind be with you.” if you smile at him, pink hair tips “B-but if you ever need to do it again, let me know with like 24 hours notice or something.”

Professor Crewel choose Malleus because he knows how you two get along (everyone at school knows). And it's hard to evaluate him in group projects when almost everyone is intimidated by him. Maybe you can solve this.

He cannot, nor does he try, to hide how happy he is to be working with you. He could teach you well, if he weren't more interested in seeing how you learn and the mistakes you make.

The first time you make a mistake he will scold you in a stern, frightening way. Only to later say I was joking and you have nothing to worry about. “Don't scare me like that, Tsunotarou!” and he will laugh.

If the potion requires you to do something like mix it in a specific way, he'll watch you, amused, until you realize you're doing it incorrectly. And only when you ask him to show you how it's done he’ll stand behind you and guide your hand with his. You can feel that he is careful in holding and guiding your hand. Humans are fragile to him and you are both fragile and dear to him. he must be careful with his strength.

If you fail to make the potion, he’ll seem completely indifferent to it. After all, you were already having difficulties, he didn't think you could overcome them so soon. And he will happily offer to continue tutoring you.

If you end up making the potion successfully, he’ll look shocked at first. You managed to make this potion with just that tutoring time? And without magic? What an amazing human you are! You've never seen anyone look at you with so much pride. Please invite him to join you more often and watch you improve.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[satyricplotter]

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened.  for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.               

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films?  he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of  a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else.  in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

[borbygorlinbbqworld]

The SIL

---

It had been a long time since you'd seen your older brother and his much younger wife. They had moved to some nice house in the suburbs after they got married while you stayed behind in a crappy apartment.

She had always been way too good for him. Born a jackass, his only requirements for a wife was someone hot, and someone who did everything for him.

Not only was she the perfect little domesticated housewife, but she was a stunner. Brilliant smile, lustful hazel eyes, long auburn hair... and a huge fucking rack. The first time you met her, you were positive they had to be implants, but after having watched how much they bounced and jiggled when she walked, you realized she had just been blessed by the gods.

Your brother was super fucking lucky.

So once you'd heard he had walked out on her just as she'd delivered twins, you knew it was the right thing to do to check up on her and her babies.

Your brother was an ass for getting her pregnant and then leaving. The least you could to do help put was bring some food over, maybe help out a bit and let Anna know not all men were garbage.

So, casserole in hand, you rang the doorbell.

You heard footsteps at the door, then the sound of someone moving the eye hole to peer through.

"Jack?!"

She opened the door, looking a little embarrassed, and your jaw nearly fell to the floor.

Pregnancy had been extremely kind to Anna. Her breasts appeared to have nearly doubled in size, stretching out the tiny spaghetti strap tank top to the max. The outline of fat, juicy areolas and hard nipples were tantalizing through the near see-through fabric.

She tugged at the shirt, doing her best to keep herself as covered as possible despite spilling out the front and sides of the tank top. "I'm so sorry, I... I wasn't really expecting anyone..."

"It's okay!" You managed to choke the words out, but ripping your eyes away from her massive tits was more impressive. You held up the casserole. "I brought food for you guys."

"Oh my goodness, you're so sweet!" She nearly looked ready to cry. She took you by the hand and led you into the house. "Come on in."

Each step made her nipples bounce and sway despite her top being so tight against her breasts.

She must have been so full of milk...

"So uh... twins, huh? How's that been?" You swallowed hard, sneaking another look at her giant mammaries. Your dick twitched at you noticed small damp spots form at her nipples. "They must be hungry kids..."

"Quadruplets, actually." She put a hand to her breast, checking for milk as more started leaking through her shirt. "And honestly, not hungry enough. I just put them down for a nap after a huge feed, but I... I'm still so engorged... "

Four.

Four kids, this woman was feeding, and she was still leaking from being too full! Your mouth went dry; what you wouldn't give to be able to suck each of those things dry as you fucked her...

You watched as she pulled out her breast pump and pushed a button on it. "Crap... battery still hasn't finished charging..."

She blushed as the damp spots on her shirt started to drip onto the floor. "O-Oh..."

One little squeeze.

That's all it would take. One little squeeze of her swollen breasts, and her milk would have sprayed all over your face and tasted so good...

"I started selling my milk online," she continued. "I had to. Nowhere to store it when you make so fucking much every day..."

"H-How much?"

"Well, after my babies eat, the excess is about..." She trailed off, looking embarrassed. Wincing, she felt her other breast, causing a little to squirt through her shirt. Helplessly, she looked up at you. "About a gallon per breast."

You could have melted.

This woman was a fertility goddess, able to feed four babies, and God only knew how many else with her excess. But she was your sister in law; it would have been totally wrong to do the things you wanted with her.

And there were so many things you wanted... She might have only given birth a short while ago, but she exuded hormones that you knew begged for you to get her pregnant again.

She was in absolute heat, and your body couldn't stop picking up on it.

And if you did try anything... How many times would she let you thrust and put your seed in her as her breasts bounced back and forth? Would her tits get so full of milk it would immobilize her?

With how big they had swollen to in this pregnancy, she wasn't all that far off.

"A gallon, huh?"

She nodded, her breasts jiggling along with her. "And they're just so heavy all the time..." She turned her back to you and backed up. Even from behind, their large masses poked out the sides of her silhouette. "Lift them up for me?"

Your dick throbbed. She was asking you to touch her tits... No. Her voice was a whine, and she was practically begging you to touch them.

You obliged, and hoisted her heavy breasts into your hands. Immediately, she let out a sigh of relief; they felt incredibly heavy as you lifted them up and down, milk sloshing within the confines of her tight skin. Your thumbs rubbed the sides of her flesh, feeling out her glands until your hands were damped by her warm milk. It had streamed down from her teats, which looked even more prominent than before as you looked over her shoulder. Throbbing blue veins darkened her otherwise porcelain flesh.

She must have been super fucking full, ready to burst...

Before you knew what was happening, she spun around and pushed your shoulders downward, forcing you to your knees. The shirt that had already barely fit her to begin with looked like she had grown out of it before your eyes as her milk stretched her engorged tits. She struggled to lift it up and over her breasts, but she managed.

It left you face to face with massive dripping mammaries as you salivated and soaked your boxers with precum.

Biting her lip, she looked down at you in desperation. She leaned forward just enough so her nipple was a mere bredth away from your bottom lip. "Please...?"

You kissed it gently, causing her to let out a soft moan and a spurt of milk. Before you could continue teasing her, she shoved her teat into your mouth.

Immediately, your mouth filled with the sweet milk, and some dribbled down your chin. Rubbing your tongue against her swollen nipple made her cry out again, releasing more sweetness for you to feast upon. And feast you did; sucking, slurping, swallowing, her supply never seemed to end.

You switched breasts, releasing her fat teat with a resounding pop before latching onto the next. You slid your arm between her legs to get a decent balance, and that was when you noticed how wet Anna had gotten.

She rubbed herself against your arm, letting out soft moans. Not only did she need to be milked, but this woman was fucking horny! It only made your cock feel harder, and much more difficult to ignore.

Her body wanted more babies to feed, and by God, you were going to keep fucking her until she had at least twenty.

How the hell did your brother give that up?

---

🐮❤️

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

✨My Masterlist ✨

This is my official masterlist!! Thank you so much for reading my stories and I hope you enjoy them! Just a few things:

Requests are always open, send me any prompts you would like! I only write for Harry at the moment so if you are sending requests it's a good thing to note :)

I take requests for basically any trope or au so send them through!

Feel free to dm me if you would like to join my main tag list or if you would like to join a tag ist for a specific fic

All smut will be updated with a mature label as per tumblr's requirements. Update your settings so you don't miss out! Here is a link to @ gurugirl's lovely post with instructions on how to update them!

Everything is ordered from oldest and this masterlist will have warnings as well as a summary for each work

Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!! I always love to hear what you think of my writing!

Happy Reading! x

Series:

The Years Between US (incomplete)

age gap, smut, angst, fluff

Synopsis and Character List

Part I

Mini Series:

The Divorce (incomplete)

the one where Y/N takes on her first high profile case as an assistant at a law firm. Her first client? Harry Styles.

smut, angst, fluff and a Harry who is delightfully insufferable :)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Tolerate It (complete)

the one where Harry is a workaholic and Y/N doesn't know how long she can take it anymore.

angst, taylor swift inspired and a Harry who needs to get his head on straight

Part I

Part II

Part III

Obsession (incomplete)

the one where Y/N meets her brother's girlfriends family for the first time and takes a specific interest in a certain older Mr Styles

Part I

Stars Around My Scars (incomplete)

the one where Y/N is throwing Niall a surprise birthday party and she bumps into Harry Styles on the street while buying candles

Part I

Mr and Mrs Styles (upcoming)

the one where Y/N and Harry are assassins for rival companies and they're trying to take each other down. oh and they're married.

Mr and Mrs Smith AU

A Delicate Point of View (upcoming)

the one where recently widowed Mr Styles is looking for a nanny and Y/N just recently happens to be jobless

Sound of Music AU

One Shots:

The Wedding

the one where Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can't seem to do anything right

Rainbows and Hospital Rooms

the one where Harry is a grumpy doctor, Y/N is his intern and she's late on her first day

Kissy?

the one where Harry simply cannot keep his lips off Y/N

Enough For You

the one where Harry kisses EmRata in Tokyo and Y/N finds out on Twitter

Spells of Fate

the one where Y/N keeps feeling dizzy and Harry is ever the protective boyfriend

[togrowoldinv]

At a Coffee Shop

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha always comes into your coffee shop and orders the same thing. One day you ask her if she wants to try something new

Note: Very soft lil fic based on this request. I haven’t had as much time to write this week, but trust more fics will pop out of me randomly lol. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Working as a barista and owning a small town coffee shop, there are always customers that you dread seeing every day. But then there are those customers that you love seeing.

Some of them are older ladies, or working mothers that you always make your best for knowing that they’ll need it to get through the day.

But your favorite customer recently has been a very attractive redheaded woman. She’s a bit mysterious. Often she wears sunglasses inside or a hat, but it doesn’t hide her beauty. You see it in her smile.

When you return to the register now after a meeting, she’s the first one in line. Today she wears a hat, but her face is not covered in any way.

“Good morning,” you say. “What can I get you?”

She always orders black coffee and a blueberry muffin. Today is no different.

“Thanks,” she says after you accept her order.

You pour her coffee and get her muffin out of the display. She watches.

“Oh, hey we’ve got a new blueberry treat if you’re interested,” you tell her. She raises her brow just a bit and you explain. “I’ve noticed you always get a blueberry muffin, so I thought you’d like to try the new one.”

“Oh, maybe,” the woman says. “Tomorrow?”

It’s the first time she’s acknowledged she comes every day.

“Tomorrow it is,” you say. “Have a good day!”

“You too,” she says.

You hand her the coffee and muffin. She chuckles softly when your hands touch and a light blush is on her cheek.

When she’s left the shop, you turn to your colleague.

“I need you to take over register. I have to come up with a new blueberry treat by tomorrow,” you say.

“I knew you didn’t have anything new,” they tease you. “You think she’s pretty.”

“Maybe,” you admit. “I’ve been wanting to try a new recipe anyways.”

They laugh at you and take over so you can work on the kitchen. You try your best and finally by the end of the day you’ve got a perfected blueberry breakfast for the girl.

She walks in the next morning with a smile on her face. Not even a hat or sunglasses on. The full sight of her red hair and piercing green eyes is enough to make your heart skip.

“Good morning,” you say as per usual. “How are you today?” You add.

“I’m excited for a blueberry treat,” she quips.

“I have the perfect one for you,” you reply. “But I do require a review of my product.”

“I can do that,” she says.

You make her coffee and plate the treat for her.

“Here you are,” you say. “I’m y/n, by the way.”

You hold out your hand for her to shake. She takes it.

“Natasha,” she says.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” you can’t help but say. A blush fills her cheeks. “Let me know how you like it.”

“I will, y/n,” she says. You love the way your name sounds coming off her lips.

She goes to a table in the corner as you move on to the next guest. You steal glances her way, noticing how she is enjoying the treat. Natasha stays until the morning rush has calmed down.

“So?” You direct the question in her direction once it’s just the two of you in the front of the shop.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Natasha says.

You grin at her. In your head, you even do a happy dance.

“Thank you,” you reply. “That means a lot. I can add it to the menu now.”

“I was the first person to try it?” Natasha asks.

“Yes ma’am. First and only opinion I wanted,” you explain.

“I’d like to have it every day, so please do add it to the menu,” Nat says.

“I will, but it’s always going to be on the house for you,” you tell her.

Natasha smiles at that. She stands up from the table and walks to the counter.

“Do you know who I am?” She asks the question softly. Like she’s worried about your answer.

“You’re Natasha. The woman who comes in here and buys a black coffee, a muffin, and now maybe a blueberry treat every day.”

Your words take her by surprise. Of course you know she’s the Black Widow. You suspected it before but now with no disguise on you know for sure.

“And maybe the woman who could take you out on a date?” Natasha asks. “I mean- only if you’d want to and-“

“Yes,” you interrupt her nervous rambling. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Nat.”

She smiles the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. You hand her your phone and she puts her number in.

“I’ll call you,” Nat says. “And I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. Have a good day, Natasha.”

“You too, y/n.”

With that, Natasha walks out of the shop. You swear you see her do a tiny celebration dance before she walks normally down the street.

Now you really have to keep making more blueberry treats for her. And for everyone else. But mostly for Natasha.

[gummilutt]

Stuffed animal enabler and autonomy fix with traits incorporation

Today I have a mod for you all that was inspired by @chocolatecitysim stream. Have you ever put a stuffed animal somewhere in the nursery as decoration? Only to find it lasts no time at all before one of them pluck it down to talk through it to a toddler that is busy, which makes them immediately drop it somewhere on the floor before wandering off. Grrrr! In a previous mod of mine where I enable teddy interactions for older Sims I solved the issue by turning off autonomy. I decided to try something more nuanced, so today I have my new version of a teddy enabler with some global stuffed animal autonomy fixes baked in.

Enabled features on the 6 maxis stuffed animals - Carry and play with enabled for teens, adults and elders - Talk through enabled for kids. Yay more sibling interaction options! Some temporary floating occurs (see video below) but overall, animations work great. - Carry interaction enabled on lil chimera plush bunny, which for some reason did not have it

Global changes to stuffed animal autonomy - Teens, adults and elders may not interact autonomously with stuffed animals in any way, if the object is sitting in a slot. It's decorative, leave it alone! If it's on the floor, knock yourself out. - Children can autonomously take bears from surfaces to play or carry, but not to talk through. This is the default setting, it is controlled in a BCON and can easily be changed if you want it different. It is labelled explaining how to edit, all you have to do is switch between 0 and 1 depending on what you want. - Children may only talk through to toddlers, because they float in the air when doing it to older Sims, whereas with toddlers the animation mostly works (see video below) - If carry and play with is enabled for teen, adult and elders, they will only autonomously do so if they have the childish trait. - Talk through autonomy for teens, adults and elders is limited to sims who are 8 or higher playful personality, or that have the nurturing trait.

These global changes impact all stuffed animals. However I can't globally enable the interactions on CC animals, because the menu is held in each object. So if you want CC stuffed animals to make full use of this, you need to manually edit the TTAB to match the mod. I have included a short video tutorial in the zip, of how to do so. If not enabled, the only change in behavior with CC stuffed animals is that older Sims can not take them from slots in order to talk through, and they will only talk through if 8+ playful or nurturing.

If you do not use traits, do not worry, the mod does not require them to work. The only difference is you won't have any autonomous play with or carry in older Sims, and talk through is limited to 8 or higher playful Sims. Easy inventory check is not required.

Download from simfileshare

Conflicts: My original "BearEnabledTeenAndUpNoAutonomy"-mods. Remove those (one file per stuffed animal, with the name of the object at the start) if you want to use this. Will conflict with other mods that alter TTAB of maxis stuffed animals, or that edit the guardian bhavs of play with, carry and talk through interactions. Introduces a new BHAV to the stuffed animal semi global, and a new bcon. HCDUs will detect all forms of conflicts. Conflicts with parts of simler90's ToyStuffedAnimalFix, specifically the part that removes unavailable Sims as options for the talk through interaction. I recommend you load my mod last, but for more in-depth information on why and how that changes behavior you'll see, please see this reply to conflict report.

Credits: chocolatecitysims for inspiring me to retry my approach to this, picknmix for helping confirm the way to test for being in a slot

Here is the video of what talk through to a toddler looks like for kids. They float briefly at different parts of the picking up, squatting and putting down parts of the animation, but the talking itself they are on the floor. Doesn't bother me, but I wanted to show so you can decide if it's too much for your taste :)

[em-dash-press]

Tips for Starting and Stopping Chapters, Plus FAQs

Even if you have the most exciting, engaging ideas for your novel, you might struggle to write it because you have to deal with chapters. These are a few of the most frequently asked questions about chapters and a few tips that might help you overcome manuscript challenges.

How Many Chapters Should a Book Have?

Unfortunately, there’s no straightforward answer to this question. Genres and intended audiences influence manuscript word counts. Younger readers will need shorter chapters to keep their interest and older readers might prefer longer chapters that dive deep into conflict or theme.

Storytelling elements also change the number of chapters per book. A fast-paced novel might have more short chapters to keep up the faster narrative pace. A slower novel might linger in wordier scenes, so there could be fewer chapters with longer page counts per chapter.

You can always look at comparable novels in the same genre to guestimate how many your manuscript could include. If you’re writing a Twilight-inspired novel in the same fantasy genre and Twilight has 26 chapters in a ~110,000 word count range, you could aim for a similar number.

What’s the Purpose of Chapters?

Chapters divide longer stories into segments that help readers process new plot events. They give people breathing room to digest heavier topics or moments by pausing or putting the book down to do other things for a while.

They also give more weight to cliffhanger moments or events made to shock readers. Even if they immediately flip the page to keep reading, the momentary pause lends gravity and meaning to whatever ends the chapter before. 

Tips for First Chapters

Include Some Action

The first line of every chapter doesn’t need to be a dramatic car chase scene, but the chapter in its entirety should include some plot-moving action. It hooks readers and gets your pacing started.

Add Emotional Weight

Action can only intrigue readers so much. What’s the emotional weight compelling your protagonist to take part in, react to, or fight back against your inciting incident? Establish some emotional weight in the first chapter to motivate your protagonist, like showing how much they love their sister before getting betrayed by her in the inciting incident.

Avoid Infodumping

Readers don’t need to know everything about your world-building or protagonist in the first chapter. The infodumping only weighs down your pace. Sprinkle your descriptions and reveals throughout the first act of your book to keep readers coming back to learn more about the world.

Tips for Starting a Chapter

Introduce a Choice

Choices help stories move along at a pace that keeps readers engaged. If your protagonist is stuck in their head for most of a chapter, there’s nothing pushing your story forward. Always include at least one choice when starting a chapter, whether it’s big or small.

Keep Expanding Your Conflict

Every chapter should expand your primary conflict in some way. It might affect newly introduced characters, change your protagonist’s world, or require a sacrifice. As long as your conflict is relevant to your chapter in some way, your story will always remain true to its thematic purpose.

Remember Your Cause-and-Effect

An initial chapter sets up or introduces a conflict that gets your plot moving. If you’re unsure what to do in the following chapter, use it to address the effects of that previous chapter’s conflict. Although the conflict likely won’t get resolved that quickly, you can still write about your characters’ choices post-conflict or how the world changes in a way that affects their futures.

Tips for Ending a Chapter

Experiment With Your Endings

I used to be afraid of ending a chapter without some shocking, groundbreaking plot twist. Althought that’s a great place to put those moments, it’s not plausible to end every chapter with one. Where would your readers feel comfortable pausing for the night? When would they feel the quiet sanctity of peaceful moments where characters build trust between themselves?

Play around with your endings by refusing to be afraid to cut your manuscript into segments. If one doesn’t feel right during your read-through, you can always merge it into the next chapter and cut them differently during editing.

Use It to Shift Your Story

When your story needs to change times of day, locations, or perspectives, that’s usually a good sign that you need a page or chapter break. It’s not always necessary, but these are the types of chapter breaks that give readers breathing room.

Again, you can always re-work your chapters during editing if you find that they aren’t ending in the right places during your first few read-throughs.

Ramp Up Your Tension

Who says chapters always have to end on a cliffhanger? You can also end them when the action or tension is becoming more intense. When two characters are in the car on the way to rob a bank, they argue over whether or not to actually shoot people. One character’s eagerness and the other’s disgust raises the tension. As it escalates into them yelling in the parking lot, the chapter can end when one leaves the car and slams the door.

Ending on a moment of heightened tension is another reason readers turn pages and stay engaged. In the above case, they might not be able to put the book down until they find out if the robbery resulted in murder.

-----

Starting and stopping chapters can cause plenty of anxiety, but remember—you’re always in control of your manuscript. Play around with these ideas and make any necessary changes in your editing phases. You’ll figure out the best way to organize your story by chapters and develop more confidence in your long-form storytelling abilities.

[kvothe-kingkiller]

I'm not the best writer when it comes to writing convincing essays or whatever, but I'm going to give this a go because it's something that I've thought for a long time that I've never seen anyone really acknowledge unless I bring it up first. (also I am sick and don't really want to do much editing here, just rambles, so good luck)

I think that when most (not all, but most) people get salty about 'modern art', they are not salty about the things people think they are salty about. When they say "this isn't art", theres an important bit that they're not articulating. What I think most of them mean is "this isn't art that should be in a museum." "this isn't art that should cost this much" "this isn't art that should be getting this kind of recognition". And there is a huge difference between that and just saying "this isn't art"

Firstly, all of the arguments about why modern art is in fact art straight up....don't apply. They don't address the problem, they don't answer the question. This isn't really anyone's fault per se, given that it is addressing the literal statement, it's just I think most people aren't actually thinking that literal statement.

So then what do they really mean? Like I said, I think they're trying to articulate why they're frustrated that this art is in a museum when "they could do it". So when you say "okay then, you do it" that doesn't address the core issue, which is "but why is this getting recognition for it, and I would get none" because yes, unless they are famous, they would get Zero recognition for it. Nobody would be lining up to buy their art, no one would ask to put it in a museum. Best place they can hope to have this displayed is a fridge door.

When you look at a piece of fine art, most can see the amount of effort put into it. They see how much training it took to get there, they see how much time it took to put those strokes on that canvas and they can go "yeah, that took skill, that took effort, not everyone can do that. it deserves recognition". And a lot of modern art does take skill, it's just skill that isn't easily noticeable to the average viewer, such as rothko's color fields, they do take a lot of skill and effort, you just can't see it if you don't know. But a lot of modern art that people complain about isn't something that has skill that's not recognized, it just requires very little technical skill at all (not a condemnation, btw).

When you're talking about something 'anyone can do' that piece's value is often not a recognition of skill, or even of the message, it's a recognition of a name. It's similar to having a gucci bag because it's a gucci bag, not because you care remotely about the bag. Yes, art isn't displayed because of how much effort went into it, but it's a huge industry that many many people are making money through from sheer name recognition alone.

Like that one painting of that one artist's (I forget which artist and my cursory google isnt finding it, but also its just an example) where it got replicated and sold to a bunch of people for a large amount of money so they could all have something that had a small chance of being a genuine painting by the artist, that's an excellent example of the fact that a lot of the gallery-level art world is Entirely about the name, not about the piece itself. If someone just made that painting but didn't say it could be from the artist, then who cares?

If you go to ringo starr's art website (https://www.ringostarrart.com/) then you can see that some of his work, especially his older work, is of that category of stuff that many people would say "I could do that" to. For instance, these two? 1,400 and 6,000 pounds respectively for a PRINT of these from his website

....okay this one I kinda enjoy.

but still. 2,000 pounds for a print.

All of this is possible because he's ringo fucking starr, he can sell his paintings for whatever he wants. If I tried to sell those for that much, I'd be laughed out of the room. All of it is just clout, it's just how big your name is and how much you can use that as leverage.

This is not to say that other forms of art don't also have this issue, they do, especially with people devaluing creative works so much today. But you could probably get a few commissions if you sell realistic art or do commissions of people's characters, while you Cannot get any money trying to sell stuff like ringos art unless you already have an audience who will buy it.

This does somewhat lead into a discussion of how art curators pick which artists are 'good' somewhat arbitrarily, but that's a whole other post.

Doing art for 'yourself' vs for other people or money is also a whole other post, one which I've actually seen quite a lot on here. But suffice to say if your response to all of this is 'just make art for yourself! Why do you need recognition?' then maybe go find some of those posts. It's not bad to want recognition, and it's not bad to question why that guy is getting much more recognition for the exact same thing you're doing just because he has a bunch of rich friends who are able to host fancy parties and go 'hmm. yes this is good art.' (not that all modern artists had rich friends, but they did almost all get Extremely lucky in some shape or another that led to them now being widely accepted as good artists).

You cannot make a living off modern art unless you're well known, and if you happen to be well known already, you could likely make a living off modern art without having any experience, and that's what a lot of people hate about modern art, even if they don't articulate it. While some would, most wouldn't say "my five year old could do that" to someone's personal piece that they made themselves and hung up in their home, or that their friend made and gave to them. They say that about the pieces bought for thousands of dollars or millions of dollars.

And I don't want people to think that I do hate modern art, I don't (though this is tumblr, so I'm pissing on the poor just by writing this). I don't hate any of the famous modern artists, I don't think modern art isn't art. I do hate the industry that says their art is suddenly worth something just because some rich fuckers somewhere decided they should be, and anything I tried to do in a similar vein, original or not, would be better suited to sit in a coffee shop and continuously marked down and never sold.

So next time you say "so why don't you make it", maybe ask yourself if you would buy it.

[rsbigbang]

The 2024 Remus/Sirius Big Bang Will Begin March 1st!

The vibes were good enough to do it all over again: we are so excited to announce the 2024 Remus/Sirius Big Bang! 

The R/S Big Bang aims to connect writers and artists in order to produce illustrated fanfiction for the Remus/Sirius pairing. We hope to encourage a spirit of collaboration that gives writers and artists the space and support they need to create truly fantastic fanworks. 

Fandom revolves around its community. We aim to run the kind of fest where all members of our Remus/Sirius community feel welcome. All tropes, genres, headcanons, heights, and dynamics are encouraged here. We hope our fest participants walk away from this experience with a full reading list and new fandom friends.

We look forward to seeing what everyone comes up with this year!

Your mods,

@maybebabyplease @mblematic @pancakehouse @colgatebluemintygel

Fest Overview (below)

This is a Remus/Sirius Big Bang. All fic submissions must focus on this pairing. Adaptations are welcome, but crossovers are not. Any AUs or OCs are acceptable. All fics must be standalone and not prequels/sequels to any existing works.

Age Restrictions: As there are no rating restrictions on this fest, you must be 18 years or older to participate. We want authors and artists to have a safe space to create and communicate. We will make you confirm your age on your sign-up form. If you misrepresent your age to us, you will be banned from this and all further R/S Big Bang fests.

Author Expectations: You will submit one fic of no fewer than 20k and no greater than 150k words. Unfortunately, due to the nature of this fest, each writer may only submit one work. You may co-write if you would like, but you and your co-writer cannot then also sign up for solo works. We do require that authors have created at least one fic (in any fandom) prior to signing up, which meets the following requirements: at least 20k, complete, and publicly posted.

Artist Expectations: You will submit one piece of original art and one banner per fic that you claim. You are welcome to submit more art for your fic pairings if you so choose. Artists may claim 1-3 fics during open claiming, but may sign up to pinch hit later on if your works are complete. 

Schedule

Please consider this timeline when you sign up, as there is little room for extension.

[halobirthdays]

BY THE RINGS, IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN!!!

THEL 'VADAM'S BIRTHDAY IS ON DECEMBER 10!

In honor of our beloved, best boy's birthday, Halobirthdays is hosting another giveaway!

What does the winner get?

The winner will receive:

One (1) copy of Halo: The Cole Protocol, for a look at Thel before his rise to Supreme Commander.

One (1) copy of Halo: Outcasts, for the Arbiter we know and love (and also the most recent Halo publication).

One (1) color-changing desk light featuring everyone's favorite brothers-in-arms.

One (1) energy sword bookmark (for all the Halo reading you'll be doing).

One (1) Mark of Shame iron-on decal and;

One (1) high-quality print of the absolutely adorable commission by the talented @nagunkgunk.

The cost of shipping will be covered by Halobirthdays.

How do I enter?

I'm doing things a little differently this time.

You must be following Halobirthdays.

One (1) reblog per user will count. Likes do not count. If you would like to reblog to spread the word (which I appreciate) but do not want to enter, please let me know via message or in the tags.

You must have an address within the contiguous United States.

You must be eighteen years or older to enter.

When will a winner be selected?

This will run from the moment of this posting until 12:00AM EST on December 11, 2023. After that, the entries will be tallied and a winner will be randomly selected as soon as possible. Halobirthdays will contact the winner via Tumblr direct message. The winner has 24 hours to come forward and claim the prize. If they do not come forward, a new winner will be randomly selected.

Please make it clear that you are not a bot by tagging the post, and/or adding an icon and banner to your blog. It's not required, but reblogs and from suspected bot or giveaway accounts will be blocked.

Fine print below the cut:

This event is not affiliated with Tumblr.

This event will run until 12:00AM EST on December 11, 2023. One (1) winner will be randomly selected.

By participating, you affirm that you meet and agree to the terms and conditions set forth herein.

If a winner is selected but is found to not meet the eligibility criteria, they forfeit the prize and another winner will be selected.

Any issues regarding shipping once the prize has been mailed shall be settled between the winner and the carrier service. Halobirthdays will make a conscientious effort to ensure that the prize arrives undamaged. However, Halobirthdays shall be held blameless for any lost or stolen prizes, damage, and/or shipping delays during transit.

[xerith-42]

MCD Fighting Style breakdown

for @gonedreaminggg as a treat. I took your initial list, added a few ideas I came up with, had a breakdown, Bone apple teeth!

- Laurance: As seen in canon Laurance mainly uses a single large sword, though in his early appearances he uses a sword and a shield. I feel like Laurance has trained in multiple styles of combat to varying degrees. He's really good with a single sword of any size, and he can fight sword and shield. His dual wielding is lacking and he can tell every time he watches Dante fight. A lot of Laurance's movements are very basic forms of sword combat with slight variations and flare. Laurance is really light on his feet, so much so that when he really gets into a fight, it almost looks like he's gliding sometimes.

- Garroth: An absolute tank. Fuck what canon says here, Garroth has trained exclusively in fighting with a sword and shield. It is his bread and butter. His ass would not know what to do with a second sword, and nobody really tried to train him in anything else because he's so good at what he does. Garroth can and will always take the hits, he's a barbarian who manages to suppress the rage until he's forced to multiclass into paladin thanks to the relic. Always on the front lines, so good at throwing himself into danger, he wants to die a warriors death and go to Valhalla and both Aph and Laurance are like "Garroth please stop."

- Dante: Dual Wielding jack ass my beloved. Dual wielding isn't a super common style of combat just because it requires so much coordination and there's definitely a quantity over quality problem with guards in Ru'aun. Dante studies an unconventional style of fighting to stand out, and it works. He's super limber and flexible, at least when he's a teenager, and he's fast as fuck. Dante will absolutely be the one getting insane hit combos and doing like 8 attacks per round. He loves bragging about this so much, even though he has to slow down a little as he gets older and his body can't quite move the way it used to.

- Aphmau: Oh Aphmau... Can I call you Aph? You poor thing. In my brain Aph is partially trained by Garroth and Zenix in her early days, but she also just has some really good instincts from being Irene's reincarnation. She learns basic archery from Zenix, and a lot of basics in sword fighting from Garroth. She tends to prefer one lightweight weapon, though she does learn to get comfortable with larger weapons. She's shorter than a lot of her opponents so she likes having a lighter weapon that let's her move fast and go for the fucking knees. She does not fuck around in a fight, she will go straight for the kill. All the guards have some sort of honor/respect for their opponents. She doesn't. She will fucking kill you.

- Travis: Travis is the jack of all trades. You put a weapon in his hand and he knows how to use it. He's not particularly great with any one weapon, and he never has a preference. He was taught to always have his guard up and always be able to defend himself, so Travis is much more comfortable with being given a weapon and using it instead of having a preference. He carries a long sword with him everywhere he goes, but that's just in case he can't get his grubby little paws on something else. He also uses potions a lot more in battle than anyone else thinks to, so he's able to make up for any shortcomings in his fighting.

- Katelyn: Punch people at the perfect weak points of their body. Katelyn has done a lot of study into human anatomy and medicine, and she knows all the weak points of the body for taking someone out in a certain way. Want a quick knockout? There's a pressure point on the back of the neck she can hit while blindfolded. Want to make someone winded? Hit them in the solar plexus. Katelyn has honed her body for this style of fighting, she is ripped as fuck, and while she isn't the fastest fighter, mostly due to her still wearing armor, her strikes are powerful enough to make up for it.

- Lucinda: Evil!! She uses her witchcraft obviously, which I have a lot of thoughts about. I think it's basically being a prepared/component caster, so how well she does in a fight depends on what components she brings into it. But Lucinda literally has like three bags of holdings, she can always whip up something to kick your ass. And if she can't, her staff is definitely made out of some ancient tree and she'll just sweep people off their feet with it and then concuss them with the giant curved end of it. She prefers to take people down non-lethally if possible, especially because witchcraft is very susceptible to accidentally killing people, but if you hurt her friends, it's on sight,

- Zane: Despite his high position, Zane isn't particularly good with any large weapons. I always envision Zane to be somewhat lanky in his stature, and definitely the weakest out of his brothers. He doesn't want to be seen as a threat initially, and as shown in the series, he'd much prefer to find a non physically violent way to kill you. If he has to, he's always got knives hiding on his person, in his robe, in his belt, in his boots, man's always has a way to kill just in case.

- Nana: Magic in this universe is spontaneous casting, where most spells don't need active prep work, and fewer components. Like she needs her dolls as vessels and some magical energy that's naturally present in her body and she's good. I don't think Tu'la was always a safe place, and she likely learned to defend herself from a young age. But Nana isn't really good with conventional weapons like swords or bows, no, she knows how to dent your brain with a frying pan. She doesn't like being violent, but if you threaten her friends or family, she will absolutely demolish you with a cutting board.

- Vylad: The archer!! I like to think Vylad tried to spar with Garroth like once and hated it so much. He hates eye contact and getting close to people, so instead they learn how to be an absolute master of ranged combat. Vylad knows how to stab someone with a short sword in a desperate situation, but he'd much rather be perched on a tree above the battlefield and rain arrows from above. Vylad is also incredibly stealthy and faster than anyone else. So people see his perch and try to get there to take him down or have their own archers fire back, but he's already gone.

- Sasha: Sasha moves so gracefully, so fluidly, and almost enchantingly. For her fighting is a performance, she's gonna kill several people and she's gonna look good while doing it. Even when she was a trained guard she made herself stand out with an affinity for smaller curved blades that naturally assisted her fluid movements. She makes fights into an endurance test, cutting people up and whittling them down. But if she needs to kill, she knows how to do it in a single swipe and knows the weak points that guards are taught to protect, and the ones they aren't. She's such a menace :)