#but still!!!! not even a tiny screenshot????

[catmask]

your lines in even your quick art is so smooth and round... do you have any tips on how to make your lines look so clean?

yes!! you have to stop erasing. if you draw / sketch in pen irl it basically force you to become more confident in your lines.

also, make big swooping strokes instead of tiny sketchy ones. itll look kind of messy for awhile but the more you do it the stronger your linework will become.

also, if it illuminates this; the quick pokemon art i do isnt lined! those are my sketches. i just go straight into drawing those. its genuinely possible to get your draftsmanship here with a lot of practice

id also recommend drawing from life, not just from your minds eye - it gets you a lot better at drawing something as an image rather than what you think it looks like. both are valuable skills in art (one for structure/realism and one for self expression) but if you want better penmenship you have to practice drawing as a skill of your hands over a skill of your mind.

you can still have fun while you do this btw literally i redraw anime screenshots to practice sometimes

[the-star-and-the-smols]

another rdr2 g/t photoset that's exclusively sean and giant arthur because I am currently obsessed over this little irishman

(using these photos again for an intro because it just looks epic and cinematic to me and I wanted a compilation of different angles)

(big arthur waking sean up while rev swanson sleeps through it all)

(sean w/ his morning coffee having a little chat with g!Arthur, not without a little big insult thrown in here and there :))

(WOAH big loomies. Sean getting his morning coffee. I think he is a little intimidated with arthur looming so close to him 'jesus fucking christ arthur!' I love these ones :>)

more screenshots to come at a later time; i had so many good Sean ones I couldn't resist posting them. PERSPECTIVE BABEY

(click on images for higher quality)

[theincrediblemoonchild]

all yumas from ch. 243 (and bonus Mikumo and Replica)

Total Yumas: 5 Speech bubble yuma: 1 Absolutely mini-yuma: 1

[sonknuxadow]

is "drawing sonic cute is bad and tarnishes the franchise's reputation" really the new sonic fandom discourse now. because ive seen several people mention it and its making my brain explode

[icewindandboringhorror]

my personal Media Genres tier ranking and also Neopets Species tiers. put together in the same post just due to being adjacently related because they're on the same website lol

links to the specific tier makers: Media Genres --- Neopets

[xcziel]

Liu Chang 【刘畅木法沙】

[blazingflareon]

ive been fiddling with rejuvenation mc sprites and kinda ended up mashing the two versions together lol. their name is sol but once again their canon name aero works too (ill draw them one day but artblock says no)

edit; 'their canon name works too' lmfao i was. so clueless

[gayarograce]

Thought this might be interesting. Here's the Great Lakes with each of their closest European country in size laid over top of them:

From west to east:

Lake Superior (82,000 sq km/31,700 sq mi) - Austria (83,878 sq km/32,385 sq mi)

Lake Michigan (58,000 sq km/22,300 sq mi) - Croatia (56,594 sq km/21,851 sq mi)

Lake Huron (60,000 sq km/23,000 sq mi) - Croatia... again (56,594 sq km/21,851 sq mi)

Lake Erie (25,700 sq km/9,910 sq mi) - North Macedonia (25,713 sq km/9,928 sq mi)

Lake Ontario (19,000 sq km/7,340 sq mi) - Slovenia (20,273 sq km/7,827 sq mi)

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[cy-cyborg]

I'm begging dragonage fans to do a tiny bit of research about arm amputees before loudly shouting their opinions on the inquisitor returning in the next game Please lol.

Apparently, it was confirmed that the inquisitor, your chatacter from the last game (who looses their arm in the final cutscene of the DLC), will return in Veilguard as a customisable character, similar to Hawke, and they will play an active roll in the story. This has caused a lot of people to start speculating on how they'll handle the inquisitor's missing hand, with most people agreeing they'll have to have a prosthetic to be an active part of the story. Which, while I do think this is the rought bioware will take, isn't true, and a part of me really hopes they leave the inquisitor without a prosthetic arm like in the end of Tresspasser

Partially because we already have a companion with a prosthetic (neve) and it would be nice to see some diversity in how amputation is depicted in such a mainstream game, but also because you dont need a prosthetic to fight as any of the main 3 classes from inquisition.

Mage:

mages just need a staff, the game shows them as 2 handed weapons but it's totally beleiveable that it would be usable 1-handed (Neve also uses a dagger-like weapon in the trailer, you can make a "staff" in inquisition that functions more like an energy sword, and the Mage in the chargers uses a staff resembling a bow, so I think it's more that they just need a focus, the shape doesn't matter as much). A knight enchanter may struggle more 1 handed, but I wouldn't write it off as an option with some modifications made to their main staff.

Warrior:

the easiest to justify, because there are several cases of arm amputees fighting with a sword and sheild in history, and while many did have prosthetics, most weren't functional (meaning they were mainly for aesthetic purposes and didn't actually aid the fighter in any way. There were exceptions, like Götz of the iron hand, who's prosthetic was functional, but most were not). The inquisitor looses their arm just above the wrist*, so they still have most of their forearm. Most sheilds strap to the forearm, so it wouldn't take much adjustment to make that work, and you can use the other hand for the weapon. Obviously, two-handed weapons will probably be off the table, though, lol.

*edit to say, as several people pointed out, i got that wrong, my bad 😅. The inquisitors arm is actually amputated through the elbow, the screenshots i was looking at just weren't very clear and it has been a while since i got to trespasser lol. It would still entirely possible to strap a shield to the upper arm though, with some pretty minor adjustments to the existing straps on standard (as in, those used by non-disabled warriors) tall shields, so the point still stands.

Rogue

this is the one people tend to be the loudest about and the one I understand the most. Obviously duel-weilding daggers won't work (unless you give them something like the hidden blades in assassin's creed on their stump side, I guess) but using a single dagger still would, and is a perfectly reasonable approach, given that's how most irl people used daggers. Archery, though, absolutely can work without a prosthetic, despite what people think. Dragonage has crossbows, not something like Bianca (rip) but a small, single-handed crossbow is an option. Even ignoring that though, amputee archery is a thing irl, and not every arm amputee uses prosthetics for it. The bows are modified to be held in one hand and drawn with the mouth using a kind of pully-system built into the bow that I could very easily see being modified into some dwarven-style contraption in game (some double arm amputees use their feet to draw regular bows, but I don't think that would be pheasable in combat).

Like I said, I think bioware will probably go with a prosthetic, but i hope that they don't. Or at the very least, show them with it sometimes and without it other times (the same goes for Neve, no one wears their prosthetic 24/7, I'd love to see them both take them off around the home base, even just occasionally). A lot of arm amputees in particular prefer to go without one, and arm prosthetics in media are some of the worst offenders of the "perfect prosthetic"/"miracle cure prosthetic" tropes. It doesn't count as "diversity" or disability representation if it doesn't actually change anything other than the look of the chatacter, and im really, really desperate for some actually decent amputee representation in games.

[hotchner-edu]

Hi, love!! I think your writing is fantastic and just wanted to pop in with a request. No pressure if you don’t end up writing it! I love a good miscommunication trope and had an idea of Hotch over hearing his wife on FaceTime one day and she’s talking very cutesy to someone on the other side. When she hangs up she’s kinda weird and acts like she’s hiding something from him. He thinks she’s found someone else and starts spiraling. After a couple days he finally confronts her all heartbroken but the reader is like “Honey, I was talking to the new puppy Penelope got.”

Clueless | Aaron Hotchner

"Is something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice cuts through your train of thoughts as he looks up from his phone.

Your pout turns into a confused head tilt as you glance over to him. "No, why do you ask?"

"You keep turning your phone on and off." He says softly, frowning in concern while bookmarking the page he's on.

A sheepish smile tugs at your lips as you wave him off. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just expecting a facetime is all." Your eyes drop down to your phone with a small pout. "Plus, there's nothing to do to pass time, but I'm sorry for distracting you from your reading."

"It's okay, my eyes were getting a bit tired anyway." He closes the book and looks back up at you with a reassuring smile. "Do you want to go for a drive? We can grab some takeout after."

"Oh? Not feeling homemade tonight?" You tease him, standing up and stretching.

With a small shrug, he slots his book back into the bookshelf by the sofa and walks over to you. "Not particularly. Besides, I know you've been craving the place we got last time. We still have a few good hours of sun left too."

Humming softly in agreement, you smile as he wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you from behind. "Sounds very tempting."

He kisses down the side of your neck lovingly, one hand splayed across your stomach. "Anything for my beautiful wife." He mumbles softly, nose nuzzling into your hair.

Smiling widely, you lean back against him. As you're about to reply with the same sentiment, the familiar chime of your facetime ringtone cuts through the intimate moment. "Oh!" You gasp happily and wiggle out of Aaron's arms, snatching up your phone.

"I'll be back down soon, and then we can go pick up some dinner." Your words pour out in a rush as you lean up to kiss him. "I love you, be right back!"

"I love you, too." His words and an accompanying chuckle are called out after you as you hurry up the stairs and toward your bedroom.

Once you get situated on your bed, you answer the call with a wide grin. "Pen! I thought you'd never call. Are the goods secured?"

Penelope's face pops up on your phone and she smiles mischievously. "They're secured!" She cries out ecstatically as she steps back from the camera and holds up a tiny black labrador pup.

"Oh my goodness! So bite-sized!" You coo and giggle, taking multiple screenshots of the confused puppy.

"His name is Milo and he's probably the sweetest little baby in the world!" Penelope exclaims, kissing the puppy's head.

"So handsome!" You smile and coo softly. "Just the absolute cutest. How does he look even better than the photos?"

"I know right! Honestly, I was so close to just adopting the entire shelter."

Penelope rambles on about the adoption process and the cute toys she's already bought for him for another ten minutes before she suddenly gasps. "Milo!" Her head snaps down to look to her feet before she looks back up and cries out, "He just did his business under my desk! I'll have to call you back later, honey!"

Snorting in amusement you wave to your phone camera before letting your friend hang up to deal with the sensory nightmare by her feet.

Stretching your legs with a relieved groan, you start heading back downstairs. "Aaron?" You call out.

He responds almost right away, voice muffled by the walls. "In the kitchen, sweetheart!"

"Let's go on that drive now!"

Later that night, you're laying in bed with Aaron after polishing off some Japanese takeout. Aaron's tinkering with the new tv you both bought, trying to get to the streaming service that offered clips from the latest golf tournament.

Your feet are pushed against his legs under the covers, and you're scrolling through some of the new photos Penelope sent you of Milo. An adoring grin lights up your face as you stare at a photo of the puppy hiding under her sofa.

"What's got you all smiley, honey?" Aaron's voice breaks you out of your little bubble.

Turning your phone off, you shake your head and scoot closer to his side. "Nothing, just something Penelope sent me. Any luck with tracking down the golf tourney?"

"Not yet..." he trails off, a small frown on his face. You miss the way he glances down to your phone in confusion and contemplation, continuing to mindlessly scroll through the tv as he sinks deeper into his thoughts.

"Honey." You say softly, watching as he scrolls straight past what he was looking for. Aaron doesn't answer, lips set in a frown with a faraway look in his eyes. "Honey?"

Your eyebrows furrow in concern and you poke his side. "Aaron."

He jolts a little at your prod and blinks a few times. "Sorry, what was that, honey?"

"You scrolled past it already." You point to the tv screen. "Are you okay, Aar?"

Your husband quickly nods and gives you a reassuring smile. "I think I'm just really tired tonight."

"Okay..." Unable to mask your disbelief, you rub his arm a little but opt to wait and let him open up to you whenever he feels ready. It was how you always approached occasions where Aaron was having a difficult time processing or accepting brutal cases.

It takes Aaron about three days to finally put everything out in the open. You're typing away on your laptop when he gently knocks on the living room entryway, a small frown on his face. "Hey, honey. Can we talk for a moment?"

Looking up from the screen, your eyes are stinging unpleasantly and your neck aches from your craning posture. Despite your aches, you manage a steady and warm smile. "Of course."

Aaron takes a deep breath, looking tense as he approaches where you're sitting. "I know that I'm not home nearly enough, and that I let my work bleed into every facet of our life... but I want to know when it started."

"When what started, honey?" You mirror his frown, making a mental note to circle back to his previous points.

"When I caused you to start pulling away from the relationship. I know that it's probably too late, but you're one of the best things to ever happen to me, and I just need to know what I can do better." His eyes are glassy now, brimming with tears of suppressed frustration and heartbreak.

Pushing your laptop off of your lap, you shake your head and blink in disbelief. "I really don't know what you mean, honey. I promise that I'm not upset with you or your work life. You're the perfect husband to me, you know that right?" Your hands move to clutch his, gaze imploring him to elaborate.

"I..." he looks down at your hands. "I'm not nearly a good enough husband for you. That's why I wouldn't blame you if you found someone who could give you more than I can."

His words are like a slap in the face for you, completely throwing your head for a spin as you give him an affronted gape. "What are you talking about, Aaron? You know I would never ever do that, right?"

He looks back up at you and draws his eyebrows together. "Of course not, I just... I wouldn't blame you for thinking about better opportunities."

"What's bringing this on all of a sudden? We've been good these past few years..." You try to think back to anything that would plant seeds of doubts into his head.

"The other day... when you had that facetime call." He begins softly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but when I walked by the room to grab a towel from the closet, I heard you calling someone handsome on the phone. I didn't think much of it, but..."

Your eyes widen when you catch on to what he's been suspicious about. "But then I started acting shifty later that night too..." You groan and slap your forehead, silently chastising yourself. "Aaron, I promise that it's not what you've been thinking. I was calling Penelope that day and we were chatting about her new puppy, Milo."

Aaron clears his throat and looks at you with knitted brows. "A puppy?"

Nodding, you nearly laugh incredulously at how mixed up the entire situation got. "Yes. I'm so sorry, honey. I was acting weird that night because Pen sent me more photos of Milo. I didn't want to bring it up with you because I didn't want you to think I was subtly hinting for us to get a pet too."

You reach for your phone and quickly open up your message thread with Penelope, showing him all the photos you were smiling at. "I know it's dumb to hide that from you, but I promise that it's because I didn't want you to think I was lonely or needy or something."

Aaron's entire body sags in relief and he lets out a watery chuckle, tugging you into his arms. "I don't mind if you're needy." He whispers softly and kisses your forehead. "I'm sorry for assuming the worst, sweetheart. I trust you more than I trust myself, and I don't want you to think that I think so lowly of you."

"It's okay, Aar. I can overthink a lot too. Let's just promise to be more open with each other because you nearly gave me a heart attack." Your smile seems to soothe him as he nods and kisses you sweetly, clutching you close like you'd disappear at any moment.

"I love you, honey." He mumbles and rubs your back, eyes closing as he allows himself to be swept into the comfort of your presence.

Brushing your thumb against his cheek fondly, you give him another kiss. "I love you, too."

"Let me make it up to you?" He asks, a boyish grin rising on his face as his eyes twinkle a bit.

"I don't know, let me think about it." You tease and playfully pretend to be in thought.

His hands slide down your sides slowly and slip under your shirt, lips surging forward to nip at your neck. "I can be pretty convincing. Let me show you just how much I like your neediness."

[nereidprinc3ss]

i saw a tweet that said "finals week or my final week? stay tuned" and it was so real so without further ado here is sending spencer reid a tweet while he's away on a case during finals week and him freaking out LOL

------------------------------------------------------------

Finals week is always a nightmare--even more so when your own personal dictionary, encyclopedia, thesaurus, and calculator is out of town on a case. Spencer has been as available as one can be while trying to catch a serial killer in a tiny town with spotty service in New Mexico, so you don't expect him to respond to your text for at least a few hours.

Still, you're smiling as you send the screenshot to him. Sending him any sort of 'Internet humor' is a risky business, because he doesn't always get it, but it's part of what you love about him. He's just so earnest, you can't help but take advantage of it sometimes.

To your immense surprise, he reads it almost immediately. You watch the typing bubble pop up and then disappear, and-- uh oh. His contact photo fills your screen as he calls you.

"Spencer, it was a joke," you laugh, not even bothering to ask what he's calling about.

"I don't think passive suicidal ideation is funny," he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh my god, I'm not actually about to kill myself, Reid."

"Oh, so you're calling me Reid now?" He huffs, obviously exasperated. You laugh at his hushed tone. He probably stepped out of a room at some police station to call you.

"I have to keep you in line somehow," you defend, rolling over onto your back.

"Goodbye."

"No, wait!" you whine. "I'm sorry. Don't go."

You're sure your immediate flip in demeanor is funny to him. His voice suggests a hint of fond amusement when he responds, making you miss him even more.

"I really do have to go. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You are okay, right?"

"I'll live," you sigh, wishing you could keep him on the line longer.

"That's what I like to hear," he says. "I love you. I'm proud of you."

"Love you too."

"I'll call you later."

"Bye." The line goes dead. You flop your phone hand down on the mattress and stare at your laptop with disdain, the blank word document and the stupid blinking cursor mocking you. But still, you feel slightly lighter after speaking with your boyfriend. Maybe it won't be your final week, after all.

[moonwoodhollow]

HOHENZOLLERN ALLEE 72-76

a German-inspired 1950s apartment build + a furnished flat

A build download that was in the works for almost a month and made me realise how much I love building local architecture even though it's not the easiest within the constraints of TS4.

It's meant to represent a realistic German apartment build, that is a bit run down and yet still feels homey and nostalgic to those of us growing up near or in these buildings. There's one furnished flat that is ideal for 2-3 sims and furnished in a retro 60s-90s look, that I hope you'll enjoy! This is also a BIG 1K followers gift, with which I want to show my deepest appreciation to all my followers, thank you so much!!

More info, screenshots + DL link behind the cut!

First a little history/backstory to this build:

This build is something you'd see very often in Middle to Northern Europe, less so in the UK, because brick builds there look similar but also different and I based my build off of Northern German brick builds.

The red brick used for these builds dominates the townscapes in quite a few cities where I live and has been used for a few centuries (see Brick Gothic). This build that I based on a real building, however, is more modern and was probably built after WW2, as the design choices, like using tiles on the facades of brick builds is something distinctively 1950s. I know there are older examples, but these buildings usually have more design and decor elements on the facades. These red brick builds were built en masse starting with the 1920s and were usually meant for low-income households. The same goes for the 1950s brick builds, which were built on top of ruins of older buildings destroyed in the war and oftentimes were cheaply constructed and usually don't receive the same appreciation that older pre-war brick builds get, so quite a few are already being demolished for more modern builds.

So what do you get with this build?

Hohenzollernallee 72-76 is a 40x30 lot that I placed in Evergreen Harbor on the Sprucewood Square lot. I created 2 versions of the building, one as a normal residential lot and another as a residential rental. Just choose whatever you want! There are 6 different flats, that have been renovated at different times, which is apparent from the condition of their kitchen and bathroom.. Each flat has its own basement room and the garden is shared between all tenants and there's a shared laundry room in the basement as well.

You'll also have a restaurant shell, the Burger Lab that is not functional currently, but you could make it so if you want.

The furnished flat is playtested and ideal for 2-4 sims max and is heavily 'lived in', meaning very cluttered. I personally see an older woman living there, whose husband already died and her daughter left as soon she turned 18, but the interior was never changed or renovated. I don't know, you could probably come up with a lot of story ideas!

CC is mostly included. You'll find an Excel file with the specific file names and the dl link for all CC that is not included. The build will probably still look okay-ish without the excluded CC but I strongly recommend downloading it, if you do not already have it.

Thank you, especially to these lovely creators: @budgie2budgie, @sforzinda, @surely-sims, @pluto-sims, @syboubou.

@myshunosun, @charlypancakes, @peacemaker-ic, @kkbsmm, @leaf-motif

@awingedllama, @kirsicca, @baufive, @lumenniveus, @kiwisim4 and many more!! it's because of you that this build looks the way it does <3

Uses items from the following packs: For Rent, Growing Together, High School Years, Cottage Living, Snowy Escape, Eco Lifestyle, Discover University, Island Living, Get Famous, Seasons, Cats and Dogs, City Living, Get Together, Get To Work, Werewolves, My Wedding Stories, Dreamhome Decorator, Strangerville, Vampires, Dine Out, Tiny Living, Laundry Day, Backyard Stuff, (Kits): Party Essentials, Basement Treasures, Greenhouse Haven, Bathroom Clutter, Everyday Clutter, Desert Luxe, Little Campers, Décor to the Max, Industriel Loft & Courtyard Oasis

Download: Google Drive | also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you'll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

-> Info: I tried to not include merged files, but there are about 3-5 that I missed, sorry :(

TOU: please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the house, I’d love to see it in your games.

[writingbyshiloh]

Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan. 

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan. 

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying. 

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress. 

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words. 

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them. 

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend. 

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her. 

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all. 

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table. 

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way. 

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window. 

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too. 

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go. 

You stand and straighten out your dress. 

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself. 

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up. 

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is. 

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting. 

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it. 

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.” 

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going. 

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest. 

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking. 

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near. 

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again. 

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible. 

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit. 

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan. 

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall. 

[daisynik7]

I could even learn how to love like you

There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 

Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.

He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 

He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.

The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”

The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 

~~~

Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.

You beam at him. “Good morning!”

He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 

This theory is soon debunked. 

Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 

Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 

“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”

While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 

Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 

Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 

~~~

This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”

You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.

He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 

He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.

He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”

This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 

Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 

It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 

On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 

You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 

Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 

~~~

It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 

However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 

Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 

Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 

He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.

It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 

As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 

Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.

His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 

He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”

Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 

Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

[toxicanonymity]

Stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

Amazon 📦

2700, stepdad!Joel x f!reader. Stepdad Master List

New: BONUS SNAPCHATS, and one more (what if)

Ty for always ID-ing stepdad in the wild @gracieispunk including this pic ILYSM!!

SUMMARY: You give Joel the cold shoulder. He's sad and horny and finds a way to get your attention with a gift. He snapchats you a lot. A/N: Shout-out to @scratchietella (cum ask). WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice, jacking off, stepcest, degradation, angst, reflection on cheating, a bit of whump and a hint of reader dacryphilia. Joel comes a lot (7x or so?), and I spelled it the short way for disambiguation.  NO use of Y/N. 

After you let Joel give you head, he thinks he’s back in your good graces despite cheating with your mom. But as soon as Joel leaves your room, you must be putting on your clothes. Because within less than a minute, you call Jacques on your way downstairs-–in earshot–to apologize on Joel's behalf for rushing him out.  

Joel follows you downstairs, but your Mom is on her way in.  You go out the front door, and when your Mom walks in from the garage, Joel is standing at the kitchen with his hair all messed up from running his hands through it in distress.  He doesn’t know if you’re going to Jacques’s, back to your apartment, or out, but he doesn’t like it. Joel knows he has no right to tell you anything, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you.  You don’t answer.  

Your Mom isn’t home for long.  She goes right back out, at which point Joel goes straight to his dresser to retrieve both pairs of your panties: The pair you gagged him with after he gave you a ride home, and the pair you stuffed in his pocket in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. The ones from the car are already ruined by his own cum, but the ones from Thanksgiving are all you. 

Joel lies on the bed and lubes up his cock, still hard from eating you out.  He puts on his glasses and looks at the screenshots he took of you before he knew Snapchat was telling on him. He whimpers as he strokes himself.

After a minute of looking at your scandalous photos, he feels pathetic for clinging to such a tiny morsel of you when he needs it all. He tosses his phone aside, closes his eyes, and smothers his face with your panties as he strokes himself.  He takes in deep breaths and he grunts and moans into them, and his hips involuntarily flex like his fist might as well be you. 

For the thousandth time, he imagines putting an end to his misery by just fucking your shit up.  Busting in your door, grabbing you by the throat slamming you against the wall.  Shoving his tongue down your throat and his hand between your legs. Tearing your clothes off as you whimper his name. Then taking you to bed, only so he can put you on your back and spread you wide open.

He'd memorize the folds of your dripping cunt as it twitches and begs for his tongue. Flip you over and shove himself in without warning, making you mewl as his girth splits you in two. Pounding you. Spanking you. Yeahh, just railing into your needy whore cunt as you whimper under him.  He sees your face screwing up as he cums inside you with a harsh grunt, finally giving you what you wanted all this time, a cunt full of his load.  

Cut to his own fist full of it on his bed. As he lies there breathing, the shame sets in. Not only the stepcest shame, but also the knowledge that he'd never have the balls to do any of that. It’s barely believable enough to get off to.  And then the guilt sets in – the guilt of what he did, how he fucked things up with you.  He feels guiltier about this than he felt for cheating on your Mom. He feels like he cheated on you. 

He puts away the evidence and washes his hands. Then he stares at your text convo. He has to figure out how to make things right. 

You don't respond to a single text or snap for the next week or so, and you don’t come back to the house either. Joel feels even more desperate. He’d do anything, if he only knew what might help.  He needs something to get your attention. He doesn’t sleep with your Mom, and your Mom doesn’t care. She doesn’t even bring it up. He’s pretty sure she’s having an affair anyway. Brazenly.  For her to confront Joel about his lack of interest would be to risk Joel confronting her about the affair. Joel isn't sure if it’s physical or just emotional, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s over it. 

Joel thinks about you at night and wonders if you think about him, too. He envisions what you might look like, thinking of him.  He imagines you with your spine arched, toy between your legs, closing your eyes, just soaking your sheets as you sigh his name. One night, he’s picturing this, really choking his cock.  He groans then sighs as he cums into his fist.  And then, when he’s recovering from his climax, that’s when it hits him.  How to get your attention. 

—---------

You’re lying on the couch watching TV.  You’re distracted.  Joel’s outreach has been ambiguous so far.  He hasn’t said anything about your mom. He hasn’t begged for pictures, much less for another chance. He’s only begged for forgiveness, over text.  You haven’t opened his snapchats because you don't want to be reminded about what he did.  You don’t want a serious talk or a lecture or god forbid details.  You don’t even want a sincere apology, unless it’s in the interest of fucking you.  

You get a notification that you have a package at the leasing office and sigh in exasperation that you have to make the trip there when it's probably not even yours. You aren't expecting anything, but sure enough, it has your name on it. 

It’s a vibrator.  Your heart races when you read the gift message. “Thinking of you. A lot. I’m sorry. J.” Unwanted butterflies swarm in your chest and you try to bat them away. He even included an extra pack of batteries.  How. . . thoughtful. Smart, too, because if it were rechargeable, you’d never plug it in.  It would feel like an admission of forgiveness. But since it’s battery-operated, you can just pull the battery tab as soon as you get horny. And of course you do. You lay on the sofa where you and Joel hooked up before and you take the toy for a spin. His ploy is working, you’re thinking of him, and you’re too horny to care.

You finally open his snapchats. They're a mix of horny and pathetic videos. They start off horny, just showing you a bulge in his pants or he's jacking off with your panties.  

Video: Then something non-sexual. A closeup where he’s just looking at you with messy hair, puppy dog eyes, and dark circles. “Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care. I'll take anything.” 

Video: Then horny. Palming himself over his joggers.  Whining your name in a whisper.  “Please.” His desperation turns you on. 

Video: A sad one the same night. He's sweating, looking like a little more of a mess, forehead glistening, catching his breath. "Don't throw this away." He breathes for a few more seconds.

Video: Another sad one another day where he doesn’t really say anything but his face says it all.  He looks awful, as if he’s not sleeping. Red eyelids, might have been crying.  He starts to say something, “I—” he takes a deep breath. Then he shakes his head, looks up and it cuts off. 

Video: A horny one that must have been the same night. He looks the same, but his reddened eyes look hungry. His lips are parted and he's taking in a shaky breath with his arm moving slowly off screen. "I just miss you." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns the camera down where his clothed erection sticking straight up in his joggers, just jutting into the air. His hand pushes it down and he slowly grabs it.

You leave his snaps on "seen," not even beginning to reply. Then a few minutes later he sends a new one.  A minute after that, another one.  You leave those unseen for the time being.

—------------

Joel sees you open the old snaps. That's progress, he thinks, and boldly assumes you open them when you’re horny. When he starts to second guess that assumption, he gets self conscious and thinks it might be for the better that you don’t open the last two snaps. They might have been too much. . .

Video: He’s sitting in his office chair in front of a full length mirror. He’s manspreading and his joggers are hugging him in a way that emphasizes his bulge.  His big, veiny hand is slowly rubbing his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where he desperately wants your touch. He says, “Ya know,” (deep breath) “I should be doin’ that for you.” Then he palms his arousal and says, “Ahh, fuck it.”  

Video: A few minutes later, he’s slouched down in the chair.  His T-shirt is pulled up well over his  belly button and his hand around his cock. After just a few wet strokes, he sighs loudly as he cums all over his abdomen.  It’s a lot of cum, like six or seven ropes. Then his stomach rises and falls with heavy breaths for a few seconds before he ends the video. 

He’s grateful for the glimmer of hope but still beating himself up.  He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not even sure what you want. At times, it feels like a losing battle. He’s not even sure what you feel.  At some point he thought he knew, on some level. He thought you both knew, the moment you kissed, it felt like there was something electric neither of you could articulate but both of you knew.

It felt more than skin deep, but he couldn’t say where it went within either of you.  He still can’t say. It’s not like you were in love. Certainly not batting eyelashes at each other or making future plans. Half the time you were bickering.  But there was something there.  Even if it was only physical, it was deep in your bones and something made it electric. 

The further it gets from that moment, the more he wonders what you ever wanted. Is he your play thing? Do you get off on torturing him? Did you genuinely enjoy chatting with him?  Do you get off on sneaking around or would you be into him if you knew each other a different way? 

He pushes those thoughts away and keeps coming back to the physical spark between you. The hunger in your eyes.  Your persistence.  He wants both of you to take a leap of faith–not into a relationship–but a leap backward to the beginning.  This all burned down and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.  If he lets it cool and builds it right, maybe it can become something better.  Abstaining from other people feels like a good start. He can’t think about whether you’re seeing anyone else or it keeps him up at night. 

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The next day, you’re horny again.  You get comfortable and turn on your new toy. You tell yourself opening his snaps doesn’t mean anything.  You don’t have to respond.   It won’t have any effect on you.  But when you watch those two in his office, and oh, God. It takes you no time flat to cum, and cum hard.  You don’t say anything back to him. He texts you, “did you like that?” and you don’t respond.  He continues, “if not i’ll stop, sorry. Lmk.” You don’t let him know anything at all. You stay radio silent. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he keeps snapchatting you.  Even if you don’t open it that night, he knows you might go on a spree and open several in a row, probably when you’re using his gift. 

Video: It’s a computer screen with your insta pulled up.  He’s at the desk in his bedroom, the one where you found him jacking off to your pictures a few of months ago. He points the camera down at his lap and he’s wearing gray boxer briefs you didn’t know he had.  You see the very clear outline of his hard cock atop his thigh, straining to burst out of them.  “See what ya do to me.” He runs his hand down it with a low sigh.

Video: A few minutes later, selfie mode, breathing heavily.  Hand wrapped around his shiny cock, stiff and swollen.  He fists himself at a beat that’s becoming as irregular as his ragged breaths. He grunts as he thrusts into his hand.  “Oh, fuck—oh—-ohhh fuck, I–nngg–” He devolves into a groan as he erupts in his hand. It shoots back toward the camera. It takes a good thirty seconds of him moaning and sighing and catching his breath before he’s finally done emptying his balls. 

Video: He’s on his bed, rear camera facing his lap.  cock and his hand gliding wetly up and down it.   “I can’t believe. . .” (heavy breathing) “-oh, fuck—I–I can’t --I can't believe,” (moan) “I ever turned you down.” (long, drawn out orgasmic groan). 

Photo: Close-up of his lap with a boner.  His hand resting at his groin. His hand has no business being that hot.  Caption: How’s silicone joel treating you.”  You roll your eyes and begrudgingly smile just a little as you use the silicone joel and quickly tap for the next snap. 

Video: He’s in the office again, standing in front of the full length mirror. He’s in boxer briefs and his thighs swell out from them. No shirt.  He pans so you can see him head to toe, shirtless. Then he relaxes back in the chair, manspreading. The snap ends and it cuts to the next one.

Video: Now he’s breathing fast, stroking his raging erection feverishly in the next one “Ohh-nng-Oh–God–Fu–” (moan) “Fffuuuck” (loud, low sigh).  Stringy white ropes rocket onto his abdomen as he shudders loudly and strokes himself slower. You rewatch this one multiple times and count seven real ropes before it’s just gurgle. Seven.

You think about getting your ipad out and taking a video of this one for later use, but you accidentally tap for next. By now, he's completely unashamed.

Video: He’s in his car. You can only see his lap, and the ample bulge in his joggers. “Had to pull over.” He scoots the seat back, rubs himself slowly, breathing heavily. “Just thinkin’ about” (low sigh) “the way you came all over my mouth” He pulls his waistband down, spits on his cock, then sighs loudly. That snap ends, and in the next one--

Video: He's just cumming–really hard. It’s his fist around his cock.  “Oh, fuck,” (a gasp, then a soft, ragged groan)  “Fu–” he cuts himself off with a long sigh as he cums into a t-shirt.  You can’t see the cum but know it’s a lot.  You see his cock twitch and his hips lift as he sighs again. 

Photo: His big, masculine hand is holding a peach. Caption: Every fkn thing reminds me of you. 

All this time, you’re still not responding. Not so much as a thumbs up or sweating emoji. But you keep watching them, day after day, until  one day, he doesn’t send any.  You use the toy and just think about him, envisioning his videos, and replaying your encounters. You don’t just think about him jacking off, you think about him crying, too, and that turns you on just as much. You picture him crying and jacking off and you cum instantly. Then you feel kinda bad.

In your post-nut clarity, that’s when you realize you’re pretty much ready to move on from it.  Because you start to worry. Maybe he’s had enough of the games. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe you shouldn’t have punished him like this. It was fucked up, so fucked up, but the memory will fade. You detached enough in the moment that it's not that vivid to begin with.

Joel is married. He’s always been married. That's why he was always saying no. They kissed in front of you days before. Instead of insisting on a conversation, within sixty seconds you were putting your panties in his pocket. Then you made a pass at him, and he got you off on the kitchen counter.  Then you kissed.

That kiss. It was so loaded. Packed full of tension and potential. A glimpse of what could be had. There's no doubt in your mind the sex would be explosive.

If Joel hasn’t given up, maybe this interlude got you a little closer to what you want, somehow.  There's only one way to find out.

—-----

BONUS SNAPCHATS

the silicone Joel

STEPDAD MASTER LIST - Fandango has the most advanced smut

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THANK YOU for reading and engaging. Your reblogs and comments mean so much to me, and I love when I start to see new “regulars.” It’s so exciting really. Love you guys 💙💙💙

Special shoutout to stepdad’s lawyer @milla-frenchy for expert counsel!

A/N: Based on a) people wanting her to hold out on him longer (which is what this was) and b) what i want to do on vacation, I think the vacation is going to have to be after Christmas. 

FAQ: I’m not planning on pursuing the jacques/cheatbacks storyline rn, you can HC that however you want as for what she did that night (if anything).  Don’t really wanna address the mom situation more, and probably won’t answer plot Qs. That way maybe you'll get the next story sooner --- I’m kinda trying to make this easier to write so it won’t take so much deliberation and weighing opposing inputs lol.

TBH it was supposed to just be sexy, smutty, scandalous, “we shouldn’t be doing this” PWP and it kinda got away from me.  But I at least wanted to give a little insight into Joel’s POV with this  one. 

Now back to the agenda: [cock, baby!.gif ].

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