#i'll try and update it every month

[pharawee]

🖇️BL WATCHLIST OCTOBER

🎬Ai Long Nhai - I’m watching this for Jom but wtf did they do to his hair? I can only hope the subtitles don’t adequately represent what’s going on in this show but at least everyone’s really pretty?

🎬War of Y - This show somehow manages to suckerpunch me every single week. BillySeng were amazing and Bew from the second story deserves the world (so the exact opposite of what the finale gave him).

🎬Ghost Host, Ghost House - This show is a gem.

🎬Why You... Y Me? - I honestly didn’t expect this show to be so good? It’s genuinely funny and charming. I didn’t even have it on my radar because it’s not 100% a BL but going by the first ep the two BL couples are treated fairly equally to the (straight) main couple. It’s a bit like The Shipper minus the bodyswitching and fantasy elements.

🎬Love in the Air - I’m not 100% invested but I like it well enough and look forward to each new ep. When, uh... when will we get Saifah’s story, though? I’m asking for a friend. 

🎬The Eclipse - I’m enjoying everyone’s commentaries and insights on this show so much. And the show itself has this emotional sincerity to it that really resonates with me. Also, Neo is doing fantastic in this.

🎬 Hard Love Mission - Eh, a cute show. Sometimes that’s enough.

🎬Big Dragon - Perhaps my most anticipated show this year. At this point I couldn’t stop stanning if I wanted to (I don’t).

🎬Fahlanruk - I have this soft spot for Sherbet (and his hair) and I don’t know where that’s even coming from but it keeps me watching every week.

🎬Remember Me - I came for JaFirst and stayed for Name and that amazing feeling of nostalgia.

🎬Self - Ep 1 was way different than the trailer but I kind of like how the main character is a jerk so let’s see where this goes.

🖇️ON HOLD

⏸️My Only 12% - This is so cute, and Santa & Cooheart are so, so good, but I’m way behind and I don’t have the time to catch up. 😔

🖇️LOOKING FORWARD TO

⭐To Sir, With Love - This has already started but the eps are 90 minutes and I don’t have the time to watch atm. 😔

🖇️FINISHED

🎬Oh! My Sunshine Night - I started watching this for Noh and Noh only and then went on to let RainPhayu consume my entire soul. And despite Aisplay seemingly butchering the whole show during pre-production I still enjoyed it for the most part. It sure was a very pretty show, and the cast did what they could with it.

[asbestos-11]

mayhaps i should take a lil break from posting art on this account bcs holy shit is it stressful to continuously churn out content

[izzy-b-hands]

The PP IT guy admitting he's the only one available to help prep and do chart work for telehealth appts is. Something. Makes me feel for everyone working there rn even more than usual

(did also gently say to him to maybe not mention that to anyone else bc like. That's not necessarily on with good practices re: chart work in my experience at the old clinic job, but also I personally don't care bc he's v nice and I trust him with my info. Others might not tho when they're expecting a nurse or a nurse tech/etc role to be calling ahead of the appt instead)

[kellystar321]

.

[aminojackal]

Hey so heads-up, I’m probably going to be pretty quiet this month. I’m extremely depressed, and this month has been really fucking shitty despite being only a week and some change. Long story short, my dog is slowing down and on his way to the rainbow bridge, and it’s really been taking the creative energy out of me, as well as the energy to be super high-key and peopley. Sorry in advance for future radio silence, some good vibes would be appreciated

[eastgaysian]

compiling a far from comprehensive list of palestinian fundraisers i'm aware of that are far from their goal (less than 25% raised) and/or stagnating. i will try to update this post at least every couple days - please check the op for updates.

if you can donate at least USD $15 (€14, CAD $20, kr160, £12) and dm me proof, i'll offer a colored sketch commission akin to these drawings (more details here). [EDIT: not accepting new donation comms at the moment until i've worked through my backlog; check back in a week or two!]

even if you're not able to donate that much or at all, please share, and follow the links to the fundraisers - there's much more important information for each one than i'm able to quickly compile into one list.

(created aug 2, updated aug 15)

Hazem Khalil (hazempalestine) - vouched for by bilal-salah0, who has been vetted - €6,015/50k (USD $6,556/$54.6k) raised to evacuate 7 family members

Mohammed Haboub (mohammedhaboubsblog) - shared by 90-ghost - kr85,347/300k (USD $8,108/$28.5k) raised to evacuate 4 family members, along with paying for rent and medical expenses - URGENT RENT + MEDICAL COSTS

Walid Al-Qatrawi (waled-family, waledps) - shared by 90-ghost, instagram - €2,164/€50k (USD $2,362/$54.6k) raised to evacuate a family of 5 with a child on the way - GOFUNDME HAD TO BE CLOSED, DONATIONS STAGNATING SEVERELY

Bilal Abed Rabou (bilalassadabedrabou) - verified by 90-ghost - €7,169/80k (USD $7,814/$87.3k) raised to evacuate a family of 3 + living and education expenses

Israa Alazaiza (isra-elazaiza, sarah-family) - verified #236 - CAD $5,480/48k (USD $3,946/$34,593) raised to evacuate 9 familly members - DONATIONS STAGNATING

Abdelmutei Al-Habil (abdelmutei) - verified by 90-ghost - €8,985/50k (USD $9,794/$54.6k) raised to evacuate 7 family members

Heba Al-Anqar (heba-baker) - shared by 90-ghost - €3,170/60k (USD $3,455/$65,499) raised to evacuate 7 family members + provide for living expenses - DONATIONS SLOWING DOWN

Salahaldin Hor (salahaldinhor) - shared by 90-ghost - €5,032/40k (USD $5,485/$43.6k) raised to evacuate 5 family members + medical and education expenses

Mohammed Atallah (mohammed-atallah) - shared by 90-ghost, organizer's instagram - €11,542/82k (USD $12,581/$89.5k) raised for a bone grafting procedure + rebuilding family home

Fatima Alanqar (fatma93-gaza) - shared by 90-ghost - €4,730/20k (USD $5,156/$21.8k) raised to support a family of 7

Mohammed Matar (matarmoh) - verified by el-shab-hussein - €1,119/€20,000 (USD $1,220/21.8k) raised to evacuate 5 family members, including a 6 month old baby daughter

Mohammed Iwais (mohdiwais) - shared by 90-ghost - kr156,227/500k (USD $14,842/$47.4k) raised to evacuate 10+ family members

Ahmed Abu Shammalah (ahmed8311) - verified by el-shab-hussein - €12,051/100k (USD $13,136/$109k) raised to evacuate 8 family members and provide living expenses - DONATIONS STAGNATING

Wafaa Resh (wafaaresh) - shared by 90-ghost, tiktok - €26,122/100k (USD $28,473/$109k) raised to support 15+ family members

Musab Abed (musababed) - shared by 90-ghost - £3,780/8k (USD $4,838/$8.7k) raised for living and education expenses

Fadi Zakkout (burningnightgiver) - shared by 90-ghost - CAD $10,310/50k (USD $7,423/$36k) raised to evacuate children who have been separated from their parents; their daughter Wafaa needs insulin

Malak Dader (malakabed) - verified by 90-ghost - €5,646/€25k (USD $6,154/$27.2k) raised to support a family of 6 with living and medical expenses + education

Shymaa Taiser (shymaafamily) - #141 - USD $10,878/$50k raised to reunite a father with his children in Gaza and provide for medical expenses

Yousef Hussein (adham-89) - shared by 90-ghost - USD $11,001/50k raised to evacuate 6 family members - DONATIONS STAGNATING

Sujoud Al-Sarsawi (sojid222) - #155 - CAD $10,587/45k (USD $7,623/$32.4k) raised for a single mother and her 3 children - DONATIONS STAGNATING SEVERELY

Siraj Abudayeh (siraj2024) - #219 - CAD $36,515/82k (USD $26,291/$59k) raised to rebuild a family home

[aunt-pol]

I thought it would be extra satisfying to track my reading in a more tangible way this year so I’m putting every physical book I read on the shelf that serves as my bedside table until the end of the year, and marking e-books and library books with post-its. here’s the first quarterly (?ish) update

i’m cheating slightly bc i technically started reading Omeros in 2022 but i finished it in january so i’m counting it. also can you tell which one was a re-read lmao

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[nuria-schnee]

Hi, everyone! ❤️

When I said I might write this, I didn't think I'd be going so insane over it, but here we are. The brainrot is strong, and I'm determined to create as much as I can. I love the series with all my heart, and I love this beautiful fandom, and what happened won't stop us, dammit.

I was so angry and sad yesterday that ideas didn't stop coming, and before I knew I had most of the fic outlined and was already working on the screencaps for it.

Anyway, this is my attempt to write the season we deserved. I wanted to bring a bit of content in this hard time for all of us. I hope it works, even if only for a bit. This is just a preview, but I wanted to share even so.

A bit of information

Publication date of the 1st chapter: September 14th

I'll update every two weeks (hopefully)

Every chapter will be an "episode"

Every Wednesday I'll be sharing a "sneak peek" of the next chapter here on Tumblr, so you don't have to wait so long

Every chapter will have a playlist.

I'll be sharing the screencaps of the chapters as the story goes. No spoilers in them, don't worry.

The work on AO3 is already posted, in case someone wants to subscribe already and get the notification when I post the first chapter. Now, there's only an index with what I'm sharing on Tumblr, and I'll update it regularly.

Don't forget to take care of yourselves ❤️ See you very soon!

Transcriptions of the summary and chapters below the cut!

Summary

Ghosts are going missing all around London. The disappearances lead Edwin and Charles directly to a mysterious entity, known as The Summoner, that is about to make their afterlives very complicated.

Chapters

The Case of the Flashing Light: Months after returning from Port Townsend, the Dead Boy Detectives find themselves overloaded with cases of ghosts disappearing all around London. As they investigate this mystery, someone seems to be trying to catch Edwin's attention through the agency's mirror.

The Case of the White Realm:

The Case of the Explosive Garden: Things are tense in the agency after the last case, but none of them wants to address it. They are too busy for that. The cases of missing ghosts are piling up on their desk and the Summoner is still out there, hidden in the shadows of the city, causing trouble. The boys manage to track him down and end up in an enchanted mansion, where nothing is what it seems.

 The Case of the Ghostly Masquerade

 The Case of the Blurred Painting

 The Case of the 80s Deathday Party

 The Case of the Star-Crossed Lovers

 The Case of the Dark Void

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TEN

masterlist | kofi | notifs | *spongebob narrator voice* 4 months later. well, i'm not gonna bore you all with excuses, god knows most of you have heard what's been goin' on with me at this point lmao. but yall have been so patient and lovely and i really really appreciate it. i hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a little bit of bliss before things get... interesting. there's still more to come (about four chapters or so) and i'll try to update much sooner next time but please remember i'm only one person & i write this for fun (and for free) in my spare time!!! ik it can be frustrating when there are long periods between updates but i'm trying my best, please know that. k love u bye 💕 chapter summary: you & joel enjoy your little weekend getaway, far from the prying eyes and ears of your parents. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink (joel has a big dick), tummy bulge, deepthroating (or...attempted deepthroating), cum swallowing, fingering, pussy kisses, ridiculous amounts of fluff, namedropping one of my fav songs of all time because i can, the tiniest mention of sexual assault (aka noah) word count: 12.9k ao3

You think you might finally understand what it means to experience happiness.

Not the feelings you've faked for most of your life, not the plastered-on smiles and faux giggles, autopilot prayers and forced gratitude. No - real happiness. That tingling sensation of nothing but pure bliss, safety, love, and peace, something that's felt far out of your reach for most of your life. It swells in your chest, makes a home in your heart as you nuzzle into fluffy pillows, warm bedsheets, and feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness, completely and utterly relaxed. Happy, you can't help but think to yourself, I'm so happy.

You're aware of Joel's presence, fading in and out here and there as he wipes a damp cloth between your legs, across your stomach, down your thighs - taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable. Afterward he cuddles in behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, buries his face in the back of your neck and inhales deeply; you wonder if he's feeling the exact same way you are right now - god, you hope he is.

"That felt so good," you murmur to him softly, eyes still closed, "Felt so good, Joel."

He kisses your neck, holds you tighter in his embrace, "I know, babygirl."

"Can still feel you inside me," you breathe, "It's like you're still there."

He chuckles softly, "Not to burst your bubble but that's probably cum. Couldn't get all of it with the cloth." The words that should be dirty - should seem shameful - do nothing but send a warm tingle down your spine, a sleepy smile to your face. You know he's right - you can still feel something warm deep inside you, a slow trickle making its way to your opening, but there's something else. You're still pulsing every so often around the phantom of a shape, an echo of what was still there only a few moments ago.

"It's not just that," you shuffle in the sheets, nuzzling your face further into the pillow, "it's like... like you're still in there, spreading me open."

He groans and his grip around you tightens, fingertips pressing into the malleable softness of your belly. He leans down to press a small kiss to your ear, "Can't just say stuff like that, angel. Gonna get me hard again." You shiver.

"Good," you whisper, "'Cause I want you to do it again."

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets as he pulls you in, scruff nuzzling against the bare skin of your shoulder, "We'll wait a little bit," he murmurs, "You're gonna start feelin' a little sore soon, if you don't already."

"I don't," you breathe, and you mean it. "Doesn't hurt at all, really. It... it didn't hurt. I always thought it would hurt."

You can almost feel his frown against your skin, "S'not supposed to hurt," he murmurs, "Woulda stopped if you'd been in any pain."

You smile, "I know you would've."

He hums into your hair, strokes his hand down along your arm, "S'good," he mumbles, and you're suddenly aware of the heaviness in his voice, the way his lips wrap lazily around the words.

"Are you sleepy?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, "M'sleepy."

You smile at the adorable admission, then lean back into his embrace and settle in. The sun is starting to go down, casting the room in long orange and blue shadows, warm and comforting. Your eyes close again and you focus on that blissful feeling, on the weight of Joel's naked body behind you holding you close, the sound of his breathing, his smell. On the fact that you've never felt more safe in your entire life.

"I'm so glad it was you," you whisper, and you don't mind if he's already fallen asleep.

--

You're not sure how long you both nap, but you wake up soon after to a completely dark hotel room, save for the flickering lights from the traffic below and the warm glow of the buildings outside the window. Your eyes flutter for a few seconds as your brain reconnects you to the present, and you're suddenly very aware of a dull ache in your groin, an unpleasant throb that hadn't been there earlier.

"Ow," you mumble incoherently, reaching blindly for the blankets and pulling them back to peer down at yourself, but the room is so dark that it's difficult to see anything properly, "Ow."

"S'wrong?" you hear Joel mumble beside you, stirring from his own slumber.

You wince in embarrassment, shaking your head, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y'said 'ow'," you feel him sit up and reach over to turn on the lamp, "You okay?"

As soon as the lamplight floods the room your eyes cast downward, half expecting to see some medical emergency, some horrific reason for the vacation to end early, to ruin everything before it's barely even started - but thankfully it's none of those things. You're just a little swollen - puffier than usual - and aching, but not in a good way. You bring your hand down and cup yourself gently, hissing a bit when your fingers brush against your opening; it feels almost like a bruise.

"Oh, honey," Joel murmurs, and you turn your head to see his brows furrowing in concern, "Y'sore?"

You wince, biting your lip, "Um, a little."

He frowns and pulls his own side of the blankets back, and you can't help the warmth that floods your cheeks when you see his exposed body; the dark hair wisping across his tan skin, his soft belly and strong thighs - and his cock, soft and heavy and impossible not to look at. You've seen him naked several times at this point but every time still somehow feels like the first, like it's brand new. You watch as he crawls downward and gently places his hand on top of yours.

"Lemme see," he murmurs softly, and you allow him to pull your hand back, exposing your sore pussy to him. His brow furrows, "Aw baby, you're all swollen."

"Is that normal?"

He nods, eyes still trailing up and down, "It's normal," he assures you, "It's probably worse 'cause - well," he smiles sheepishly, peering up at you.

"'Cause you're so big," you finish for him, your own lips turning up into a smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that." You watch as he brings his hands down and very carefully thumbs your outer lips, pulls them apart to assess what's inside. He groans, and you're about to ask what's wrong when you see a thin stream of his cum dribble out onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," you both whisper at the same time, and when your eyes meet you can see that his are suddenly dark, glassy. You feel yourself begin to throb beneath his touch.

"Still full o'me," he murmurs, eyes trailing back down to where you're dripping, "Messy girl."

Your own eyes go hooded as you watch him lean down and press a small kiss to your clit; your hips buck up, a whimper slipping past your lips as his whiskers prickle deliciously against your sensitive skin. He smiles against you, kisses your clit again and darts his tongue out to taste, just for a moment. You whine.

"I know what you need, babygirl" he whispers, nosing your mound and closing his eyes, "I know what'll help."

Your mind races with possibilities. "Wh-what?"

He suddenly pulls back, crooked smile lighting up his beautiful face, "A bath. It'll help with the soreness." Oh. He presses another kiss to your clit, "If I can bring myself to stop kissin' this perfect pussy."

You giggle softly and he opens his eyes to look up at you again, smiling tenderly. He reluctantly pulls himself off you and climbs off the bed, reaching down to grab his discarded underwear from the floor. "I'll start runnin' the water," he tells you softly, pulling them on and taking a step forward to brush your hair out of your face, "You just relax, sweet girl. Don't move a muscle."

The bath is warm and inviting, lit candles lining the counter and floor and dousing the room in a warm glow; it's hard to believe only a few hours earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack on these very tiles. Now you lean back against the cool rim of the claw foot tub, eyes closed as you submerge yourself in the hot water. There's no panic or anxiety in your body anymore, just warmth and comfort and the welcome ache in your groin, the smell of vanilla in your nose.

"Good temp?" Joel asks softly nearby, and you hear his hand breach the surface of the water, testing the heat. You smile.

"Perfect," you breathe, eyes still closed, "Thank you."

His hand brushes lightly against yours under the water and he squeezes it gently, then murmurs, "I'll give you some privacy."

Your eyes snap open, "No," you cradle his hand in both of yours as your brows furrow, "Stay."

A smile breaks across his face, charming and boyish as he seats himself down next to the bathtub with barely any hesitation, like he'd been hoping you'd say that. He keeps hold of your hand beneath the water and tilts his face toward yours - you press your forehead against his and breathe a long sigh of relief.

"Feelin' okay?" he murmurs, "Emotionally?"

You nod, sighing contentedly, "More than okay," you whisper, "I... I still can't believe it actually happened." Your lips twitch upward and you press a soft kiss to his cheek, closing your eyes, "Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again beneath the water before pulling out and bringing it upwards to cradle your face, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are still a bit sleepy, hair sticking up in all directions and that beautiful smile still lighting up his face as he thumbs your cheek.

"I should be thankin' you," he breathes, "For trustin' me like that, bein' so vulnerable with me." He leans in to kiss you tenderly, but his words send a sudden flutter of insecurity through your body and you pull back to look at him again, unsure.

"Was I... was I good at it?" you ask quietly, "Did I do okay?"

"Oh, angel," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup both your cheeks and brush his nose gently against yours, "You did so good. So, so, so good."

He ends up washing your hair, a small but significant gesture that makes the feelings from earlier bubble up again, the warm fondness and tenderness and love. You lean back in the tub, eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his big hands deftly applying the shampoo and conditioner, massaging it into your scalp and making your eyes roll back. It's ridiculous how even this makes you throb beneath the surface, the ache dissipating a bit in the hot water. So much so that when he caps the conditioner and rinses your hair once again, you reach up to take his hand and squeeze, eyes still shut.

"Touch me," you whisper, voice already desperate, "Please."

He doesn't need any convincing, inching toward the side of the tub and reaching inside to cup your pussy in his big hand again, softly rubbing your clit. You whimper and tremble, gripping the edge of the tub for support and whining when he speeds up, circling and rubbing it exactly how you like it.

"Poor little pussy," you hear him murmur, "Just needs some relief after gettin' fucked like that, doesn't she baby?"

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum, squeezing the sides of the tub and nodding furiously, "Y-yeah."

"Took so much cock in this little hole," he whispers, and that's enough to send you over the edge, eyes snapping open as you shake and shiver in the hot water. You see him sitting there, smiling at you with a devious glint in his eyes. He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

--

"What do we do now?" you ask him softly from the couch a little while later, carefully scrunching a towel in your hair and watching as he changes the bedsheets upon your request - you'd felt a bit embarrassed asking, but you'd really rather not sleep in a wet spot. He'd been more than gracious in honoring your request.

It's late, but the nap and the bath have left you feeling wide awake, and you have to admit that you're feeling a bit hungry too despite the full meal earlier. Does sex make you hungry? You file it as a question to ask Tasha.

"Whatever you wanna do, darlin'," he says with a smile, turning down the sheets and gesturing for you to join him in bed again, "C'mere."

You give your hair one last squeeze and pad over to the bed, clad in Joel's Grateful Dead shirt from earlier today. You don't care in the slightest that it's not necessarily the cleanest article of clothing to be wearing after a bath - it smells like him, feels like him. You just can't get enough of him.

Insatiable.

You both climb back into bed and he pulls you in immediately, tugging you close and wrapping his big arms around you. You lean back into him and feel yourself grinning without even really thinking about it, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his chest moving back and forth against your back with every breath.

"Always look so pretty in my shirts, babygirl," he whispers in your ear, and it sends tingles down your spine, a rush of warmth to your heart. He kisses you gently and you listen as he inhales deeply, nose buried in your damp hair. His hand travels downward and you both watch as he cups your pussy yet again, warm and soft.

"Feelin' a little better?" he asks quietly, thumb trailing gently up and down your outer lips, "Still sore?"

"Better," you reassure him gently - and you mean it; the warm water did help to ease the ache.

He hums and continues to trace your soft lips, nosing your ear and breathing deeply again, and fuck, you could get used to this. This casual intimacy, being touched without any expectations, any fear or anxiety. Feeling safe and wanted and cared for in his embrace, no worrying about getting home early, no time limit looming. Just you and him.

I love you, you want to whisper.

Your stomach growls.

He removes his hand almost immediately. "Room service," he says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap open again as he reaches over and grabs the menu on the nightstand, placing it in front of you both, "Pick your poison."

Your eyes are drawn almost immediately to the dessert section, followed by a short wave of guilt. You're craving something sweet, but you can't help but think back to being a kid again, asking for treats and being denied, feeling as if your desires were unimportant, childish, silly.

But no, you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not. You won't be.

You bite your lip, "You know what I could really go for right now?"

"What?"

"It's silly, but-"

"It ain't silly, babygirl," he murmurs, and his big hand travels down to squeeze your thigh gently, a comforting gesture, "Whatever it is, it ain't silly."

Less than a minute later he's on the phone with room service, ordering you a hot fudge sundae.

You spend the rest of the night nestled in the warmth of your hotel bed, flicking between channels, legs tangled together beneath the sheets as you take turns scooping heaping spoons of ice cream back and forth. Your mouth and fingertips are sticky, chocolate lining your lips, dribbles of melted vanilla dolloped on your chin which Joel wastes no time in delicately lapping up with his tongue.

"God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he whispers to you, kisses you softly, darts his tongue out to taste again. You hum against his lips and try to keep your emotions at bay; he tastes like chocolate and vanilla and safety.

--

Waking up is different with the morning sun shining brightly through the hotel windows, but that's not the only thing that's different; you notice as your eyes flutter open that the ache in your groin is gone, replaced by a growing hunger and arousal in the pit of your stomach.

Oh, wow.

Joel's arms are around you, wrapped strong and solid, and when you turn within them and see him sleeping next to you, the hunger only grows. God, he's so handsome like this - the grey in his hair sparkling in the early light, jaw soft and lax with sleep, cheeks flushed. Almost angelic in his own way, gentle and peaceful.

Until his eyelashes begin to flutter delicately against the streams of sunlight, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion at your sudden movement; he's awake.

The desire in your belly burns.

"You look so cute," you whisper without even really thinking about it, and his eyelashes halt their fluttering to give you another look of confusion.

"Cute's not exactly a word I'd use to describe myself," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, "S'all you."

"Well, I would," you reply with a smile, watching as he closes his eyes again and nestles his face into the pillow. You reach forward to gently thumb one of the lines at the corner of his mouth, deep-set and soft beneath your touch. His eyelids twitch but he doesn't open them, "You're so soft too," you admit quietly.

"Again," he breathes, lips turning up slightly into a sleepy smile, "Not a word I'd use."

"Cute and soft," you repeat, thumb moving downward to trace the shape of his bottom lip, "And mine."

He chuckles under his breath, face smooshing a little more into the pillow, "M'yours," he murmurs, "all yours."

All yours.

You lean in even closer and inhale deeply, nose trailing up and down along his temple. Your eyes almost roll back at the scent of him, the masculine and heady aroma of his sweat alighting your senses. You're wide awake now, pussy throbbing somewhere below as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

His eyes open halfway, eyebrow raising as he sleepily watches you work your mouth up and down the side of his face, breath coming quicker and more frantic as your legs wind around him under the sheets. Obliging your desperation, his big arms tighten around you and he rolls the both of you, allowing you to settle on top of his large, warm body.

You stare down at him, hunger clear in your eyes.

"You were inside me," you whisper.

His mouth turns up at the corners, "I was."

"It felt really good."

"It did."

You lean your face down to trace your nose along his cheekbone again, eyes hooded, voice needy.

"I want you to be inside me again."

He peers up at you, sleepiness already fading from his expression as he watches yours with mirrored desire, "Yeah? You want me to be inside you right now?"

You nod, "Yes, please."

"Then turn over on your side, angel."

A little confused but certainly not opposed, you do as he says, rolling back over onto your side and resting your head softly against your pillow. You feel his hand dip downwards beneath the sheets, then his fingertips glide smoothly along your abdomen. Your heart hammers in your chest when he lifts up your - or rather, his - shirt and thumbs your tummy gently.

"Are y'still sore?" he murmurs, "How d'you feel?"

"M'wet, Joel," you whimper, grinding back against the blankets and trying to feel him, "M'really wet."

"Lemme feel," he breathes, hand trailing downward even further. His fingers dip into your soft, soaked centre and a low groan rumbles in his throat, "Oh babygirl, so wet for me."

"Put it in," you whimper, not caring how pathetic and needy you probably sound, "Please, Joel, put it in me again."

"Christ," you hear him mutter, arousal burning in his voice, "Okay baby, hold still, I'll put it in. I'll make you feel better."

Seconds later you feel the heat of his tip crowding the space at your entrance, already wet and sticky. A soft moan falls from your throat at the sensation, eyes closing as you feel Joel's hand cup your leg and pull it upwards, holding you open. He hooks it in the crook of his arm, shuffling forward a bit and pushing the head of his cock inside your heat.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling backwards. You feel his nose in your hair again, feel the stretch of your pussy and the widening of your thighs as he pulls your leg up even more.

"Yeah, there you go," he murmurs, pushing inside further. He goes slow, takes his time, until he's fully sheathed inside of you and your eyes are rolling back on their own accord, quiet whimpers tumbling past your lips. "Yeah, look at you takin' that cock."

As if by muscle memory your hand reaches downwards to cup the protruding shape of him at the bottom of your tummy, a low whine in your throat. He's so big inside you, nestled perfectly within the deepest parts of your body just like he'd been last night, large and warm.

"Feels so good," you manage to gasp out, other hand clenching into a fist against your pillow, "So good, so good." It's almost a mantra, voice breathless as you squish your face against the cotton and push back almost lazily against him, his balls settling heavy and warm at the base of your ass. You can feel every twitch of his shaft, the way the tip pulses against that special spot within.

"Yeah, you like bein' full like that, don't you baby?" he murmurs, "Don't even need me to move, do you? Just like feelin' it in there, huh?"

And you almost hate how right he is, how just the sensation of being so full of him already has you on the edge of an orgasm without any stimulation. Because you want more, you want what he gave you last night, want him to fuck you even firmer, deeper, without holding back. You want it to last hours.

But you know it's too much before he even starts to move, that familiar ache in your groin returning as your walls constrict around the long shape of him. He pulls out slowly, takes his time, pushes back in at a snail's pace. You feel a tickling sensation against your clit, his pubic hair pressing deliciously against the wet skin as he fills you - and without any warning, you start to come.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you cry out into the sunlit hotel room, trembling in his arms, legs shaking. You can tell in his body language behind you that he's taken aback by your sudden release, hand suddenly dropping from your calf so he can palm your sternum and pull you against him.

"Oh, honey," he groans, simultaneously tender and aroused, "Are you comin', baby? You comin' just from bein' stuffed full like that?"

"Yes," you grit out, voice a high keen as your body shakes and your release stretches out before the both of you in quick spasms, "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, no sorries," his voice is honey in your ear, fingertips grazing your nipples as he lays his palm flat against your chest, "You're a good girl, angel. You're such a good girl."

You continue to spasm on his cock, legs quivering and pathetic whines tearing from your throat until your orgasm has passed and you're just leaning back into his embrace, eyes closed. You breathe deeply, lashes fluttering when he noses your jaw and presses a soft kiss to the space beneath.

"S'alot for you," he murmurs, "I know it's a lot, babygirl. Don't ever gotta apologize for comin' too fast, not to me."

You hum softly, still extremely aware of his girthy size stretching you out somewhere below. Your eyes open and you peer downwards, brows scrunching in wonder and pleasure when you see where you're joined, where his flesh meets yours. You really are full, the base of his cock barely visible beneath your folds, the pubic hair that had caused your early release still pressed against your outer lips.

"How does it even fit?" you ask softly, almost by accident, but he just chuckles.

"The human body is a hell of a thing," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and pulling you in even closer, shuffling you on his dick just a little bit and making you wince a bit with oversensitivity, "You want me to pull out?"

"No," you shake your head and readjust yourself in his embrace, taking a breath, "No, I want you to keep going."

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't need telling twice. Within seconds he's resumed his slow and careful thrusts, almost rhythmic in their presses and pulls, filling you and emptying you in melodic succession. You reach down and take his big hand in yours, squeeze his fingers and let him fuck you like he had last night - tender, soft, comfortable. It almost doesn't feel real; how are you in a hotel room in another city, wrapped up in bed with a man three times your age, his cock buried to the hilt inside your body while you whimper and twitch in his arms? How did you get here?

"Y'know, women are a bit different than men in the orgasm department," Joel says gently behind you, stroking your hand with his thumb, "You might be able to come again if we try."

Your eyebrows go up, "Really?"

"Mmhmm," his hand slips from yours and he reaches it downward to carefully prod one of his fingers against your sensitive clit. You buck in his arms but don't protest, watching as he temporarily halts his slow thrusts to rub you softly. Your eyes go hooded, body melting like jelly in his arms as his his thick fingers slowly begin to work against the already swollen bud.

"Feel good?" he whispers.

"Yes."

He continues his careful circling, presses a kiss to your shoulder and resumes fucking into you. The sounds are pornographic in nature, surrounding your senses and filling the room with the low slap of his hips against your ass and the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his palm. But it somehow doesn't feel dirty or shameful - in fact, it's hard to imagine anything that feels more right than this.

"Joel," you breathe shakily, face twisting against the pillow again, heart pounding.

"I know, feels good doesn't it, babygirl?" he noses your skin and breathes you in, hooks your leg under his arm a bit more and groans softly, "God, you're so fuckin' tight. Such a tight fuckin' pussy."

It's your pussy, you want to breathe, it's yours. I'm yours. But you can barely get any words out as his thrusts pick up speed, as the sounds get louder and his fingers against your clit become firmer in their movements. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the fire in your belly burning hotter than ever as you let him crowd your space as much as possible, let his body push yours further and further until your eyes are rolling back and all you can feel is the steady thrust of his big cock and the girth of his fingers against your pussy.

"I'm coming," you moan out weakly, "M'coming again, Joel."

You don't hear what he says in response, ears muffled as if you're underwater, pleasure spreading throughout your body and hitting you at full force like a hurricane as he fucks you through it. You're barely aware of the sounds you're making, high pitched and almost feral as his hips slap against yours a few more times. And then you feel it, the hot pulses of his cum painting your insides, filling you up as his cock spasms and twitches deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, voice thick with pleasure and sleep as he buries his face in your hair, hips stuttering, "Fuck. Take it, there you go."

Yeah, you could get used to this.

--

You'd been pretty sure you wouldn't leave the hotel room this weekend, just like you'd told him a few days prior. The thought of staying wrapped up in bedsheets, warm bodies pressed up against each other, sharing soft kisses and quiet whispers and tender looks...it'd be more than enough for an enjoyable getaway.

But it's hot, way hotter than you'd anticipated before arriving - and the pool is calling your name.

Or maybe something else is calling your name.

You stand in the bathroom and stare at your bikini clad form, a smile curving your lips as you assess the thin straps and baby pink frills. To think you'd tried to return this to Joel, briefly refused to wear it. Now you're about to don it in front of a hotel pool full of people like a normal woman, like someone without shame, without guilt, without a mother who'd skin her alive if she saw her wearing it.

Your smile falters.

You'd texted your mother after getting out of bed, apologized once again for missing her calls last night and told her you had a "busy" day at the festival ahead of you, that you'd let her know when you leave tomorrow. All she'd said in response was Ok.

You'd climbed back into bed defeatedly, finding a home against Joel's naked form, "She's mad at me," you'd murmured softly against his bare chest, squished into his side with his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

"Don't think about her right now," he'd whispered, carding his fingers gently through your hair, "Think about this. How this feels."

He'd peered at you so softly, so full of warmth and affection. Those three words had been on the tip of your tongue again, so close to tumbling past your swollen lips - but you'd held it in.

It hadn't stopped you from texting Tasha though:

we had sex and i love him.

UM!! UMMM!!!! DETAILS????

monday!!! i'll call you

🫡 ok slut just leave me hangin i see how it is. AT LEAST TELL ME HE LIKED THE LINGERIE.

oh he liked it :)

queen shit

"Hi, pretty girl," Joel's voice says suddenly, and you're snapped from your reflection in the mirror to find him leaning against the doorway, clad in a pair of swim trunks and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, "Look at you."

You pose a little bit, hand on your hip, "Think the pool boys will like it?"

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "I don't doubt it, but they might have some competition." He holds out his hand for you and you take it, stepping forward to let him pull you in close.

"They couldn't hold a candle to you," you whisper honestly, and he kisses your forehead with a smile, thumbing the corner of your mouth.

"Wait 'til you see my breaststroke, that'll really get you goin'."

You snort and slap his arm playfully, "Lead the way, pool boy."

--

Joel may have just been teasing about his swimming ability, but he certainly hadn't been wrong about it getting you going. You watch from the comfort of a lounge chair as he whips back and forth across the broad expanse of the hotel pool like a bullet, kicking off from end to end without much effort at all. His arms are strong and lean, body fast and nimble as the water splashes around his broad form. Every so often his face peeks up from the water and you catch a glimpse of his drenched scruff, the way the greying locks of his hair curl down his forehead into his eyes. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

You're laid out in your bikini just watching, letting him expel some energy before you join him. He'd told you he likes swimming but doesn't get to do it as much as he'd like, what with his work responsibilities. You wonder if he'd ever want to swim in your parent's pool...

You shake the thought away as soon as you think of it. There's no feasible way that could work, no option that wouldn't involve an obscene amount of risk. But still... the thought of watching him from the comfort of your own backyard, just completely alone without any bystanders or hotel guests...

"You gonna join me or what?" Joel suddenly calls from the water, and you blink the thoughts away and throw him a grin. He wades near the shallow end, arms coming up to lean against the concrete edge as he peers at you. "Don't keep me waitin', baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, unable to help but glance back and forth to see if anyone is watching, listening. Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, lost in their own conversations, their own fun. Nobody cares that you're here with him. Nobody cares what you're wearing.

Slipping from the lounge chair, you totter over to the edge where Joel resides and slowly sink down onto the concrete, kicking your legs over the side to seat yourself in front of him.

"God, these legs," he almost groans, immediately taking one in his hands and massaging your calf, your knee, your thigh, "Look at you."

"Stop acting like you haven't seen me naked," you tease, though you still feel a bit shy underneath his gaze as he moves his attention to your other leg.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop admirin' this body," he seems lost in his own movements as he caresses the space behind your knee, "You're so god damn beautiful." His hands suddenly wrap around your waist and without much warning he's carefully pulling you down into the water, moving you in close. On instinct your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"How the hell am I here with you right now, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose gently against yours, "How're you even real?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply a little breathlessly, "I've been asking myself that since we got here."

He slowly turns your bodies in the water, peering down into your eyes like you're the only people here - and you might as well be. You're unable to stop yourself from leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, from letting your tongue dart out to gently explore his mouth; he tastes like toothpaste and chlorine.

"Y'gonna swim with me?" he asks after you've pulled away, pupils blown a bit wider, "Gonna put that little swimsuit to good use?"

"I think I'm putting it to good use right now," you breathe, inching closer so your breasts are pushing against his chest. You're genuinely surprising yourself at your own boldness, especially in such a crowded place - it's almost like you're a different person here, the person you're supposed to be, confidence coursing through your veins. You stand on your tiptoes beneath the water, bringing one of your legs up to wind around his waist.

"Hmm," he hums, and his face is still dripping with water, the wrinkles in his skin peppered with little droplets that make you crazy, "You do have a point there, darlin'."

You lean in again to kiss him, feel a burst of pride in your chest when you see the sudden hunger and arousal in his expression. Just before your lips touch however, you pull back from him and throw yourself into the water, turning back to toss him a cheeky grin.

"Gotta catch me first," you giggle, then speed off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise etched on his face - followed quickly by a look of determination.

"Oh, I will," he practically growls, diving into the water in the same manner and reaching out to grab your ankle.

Time passes quickly in the pool, Joel chasing you back and forth, catching you time and time again until you're a giggling mess with tears streaming down your face and his fingers pinching your sides. You can't remember the last time you had this much fun, felt so free and light. You suppose your night out with Tasha had been a fun experience for the most part, until you remember the vague feeling of an unfamiliar body pressed against you from behind and the smell of alcohol crowding your senses on the dance floor.

No, don't think about that.

Before long you've exhausted yourselves, settled back near the edge of the pool where you started and just softly talking to each other. His big hands are all over you beneath the water, palms wide on your bare hips and tummy, caressing your thighs and your back, touching everywhere he can reach. You feel almost lightheaded with desire, eyes hooded as you peer up at him and tighten your arms around his neck, pull him closer and silently beg for more. You can feel the shape of his hardening cock through his swim trunks, pressed wet and heavy against your thigh. It makes you salivate.

You suddenly hook your chin into his shoulder, bury your face in his neck and whisper, "I wanna suck it, Joel."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, hands exploring your back and holding you tighter against him, letting you rut softly against his bulge, "You wanna go back to the room and suck on it, babygirl?"

You nod ferociously against him, "Yes. Please."

It doesn't take long at all for you both to be out of the pool and making your way back over to the chairs to grab your towels. It's frantic the way you rush to dry off, slipping back into your flip flops and shaking the water from your hair as quickly as possible. Joel follows suit, ruffling his own towel through his hair and making your body burn with need, lost in how sexy he looks with water droplets cascading down his large and strong form, dipping down his sternum and into his belly button. All you can think while you look at him is how badly you want to lick, to taste.

You're making your way back toward the entrance together when a woman runs up behind you, calling out, "Wait, hang on!" You both turn, confusion in your expressions as she reaches you and holds out something in her hand - your phone.

"I think you or your dad left this behind, sweetie," she says with a smile and places it in your grasp, "Gotta be careful!"

"Th-thank you," you manage to stutter out, eyes wide as she nods and turns away from you to head back toward the pool.

You stand there dumbstruck for a moment, thoughts muddled.

You or your dad.

Your dad.

You turn to Joel then. He's looking at you with what you can only describe as apprehension, lips downturned into a frown as he stands and waits for you to say something - anything. You stare back, words failing you.

And then you burst out laughing.

His apprehension turns into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs along with you and squeezes your hand in his tightly - as if to say, this isn't wrong, what we have isn't wrong and you know that. And you do, which is why he has to practically drag you back inside the hotel as you double over and heave out laugh after laugh, tears in your eyes.

"Silly girl," you hear him mumble under his breath fondly as he leads you to the elevator, and all you can do is keep giggling.

--

"I love your cock."

Your knees dig into the plush rug of the hotel room, ass sitting atop the balls of your feet as you kneel between Joel's wide legs. He's sitting comfortably on the couch, one hand resting to the side while the other strokes circles into the apple of your cheek. His cock is out of his swim trunks, heavy and hard in your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down, up and down, heart pounding in your chest.

You've done this to him before, you remind yourself, and he said it was good.

But not like this, another part of you argues, not properly.

"Yeah, you love it?" he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. With his words his hand drops from your face and joins yours on his shaft, helps direct it toward your cheek so he can press the tip ever so gently against it, "What d'you love about it, baby? Tell me. Wanna know."

"It's so big, Joel," you practically whimper, brows furrowing together at the sensation of his warm stickiness on your face, "So big and so thick and long."

"I know, baby," he coos softly, smearing it along your jaw in a way that has goosebumps rising all over your flesh, "Bigger than your pretty face, huh?" At his words he delicately lays the length of his cock against your face from base to tip, lets it rest there as you close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. You're so fucking turned on.

"Big," you repeat, as if no other words can find their way to your brain, as if your brain doesn't even exist; all that exists is this. The feeling of his warm dick laying heavy across your face, precum leaking out onto your forehead.

"And what's it taste like, babygirl?" He's suddenly moving it downward, towards your mouth, and you happily lean forward to lap at the tip. It pulses against you, leaks onto the pink softness of your tongue. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Kinda salty," you whisper, peering up at him with big eyes, "But good, it still tastes good to me." Your nose scrunches and you peer up at him sheepishly, "Tasha said it's not supposed to."

He laughs breathlessly, taps the tip against your bottom lip, and when more precum dribbles out you allow it to drip into your mouth. You swallow, eyes never leaving his, then swirl your tongue all around the head before slowly taking it into your mouth and suctioning carefully.

"God, you make me fuckin' crazy," his voice rumbles in his chest, eyes hooded, "Look at you suckin' on my cock." After a few seconds he pulls it out and taps your lips with it again, hissing a bit through his teeth, "Fuck, this mouth. And those eyes," his head leans back against the couch and he groans, low and deep, "You gotta stop lookin' at me like that, angel. M'not gonna last."

"How am I looking at you?" you ask shyly, a smile playing at your lips.

"Like... you're just so new to everything."

"But I am," you say with a breathless giggle, "It is new to me."

He smiles fondly down at you on your knees in front of him, so vulnerable, "I know," he tells you, "It makes me want you so bad."

"You have me," you whisper, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock once again, "M'yours, Joel."

His lids go heavy as you suckle gently on the tip again, reveling in the masculine taste of him and the way you can feel his heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. You suck it the same way you did last time - like a sucker or a popsicle - and you hope it feels good to him, hope you're doing it right.

"That's so good, baby," he murmurs, and you whimper at his praise.

You pop him out of your mouth and take a deep breath, peering up at him curiously, "Can...can you..."

His brow furrows, "Can I what, angel?"

"Can you show me how to... how to take all of it? Like, how to put it in my throat?"

The expression on his face is hard to describe, a mix of disbelief and untamed arousal. His mouth opens to speak but he doesn't say anything, taking a few seconds to formulate a response before clearing his throat and giving you a weak - and slightly wrecked - smile.

"Y'sure you wanna try that?" he asks you, ever the gentleman, "That's....it's a lot to take in your throat, babygirl."

"I know," you breathe, sincerity in your eyes, "But I wanna try."

He reaches down and thumbs a stray hair from your face, pushes it behind your ear, "You're probably gonna gag," he murmurs gently - a warning. "It might be uncomfortable for you."

You raise an eyebrow, "So... you don't want me to?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I... I didn't say I don't want it. But I don't want you to try something you don't feel ready for," he frowns, "Don't want you to feel any pressure with me."

"I don't," you admit honestly, "I don't feel any pressure, Joel, I promise. I just...really wanna try it. I want you to show me."

He takes a deep breath, strokes your cheek gently and then reaches down to hold the base of his cock again. Your hands fall to his thighs, still clad in his swim trunks.

"Lemme just see how far you can go without gaggin' first," he tells you softly, patiently, "Want you to stop when you feel it in that spot, okay? Don't go any further than that."

You nod, already beyond excited that you're learning something new, something that'll make him feel good. You open your mouth to take him back inside but he touches your face again, stopping you.

"Deep breath," he advises quietly. You do as you're told.

He helps guide the fat head of his cock past your lips, watches as you very slowly ease yourself down. You close your eyes, all your focus centered on this singular task, fighting to push past the slight discomfort of having your mouth stuffed so full. It takes barely a moment for you to reach the point he was talking about, when you feel the head of his cock brush ever so slightly against your gag reflex. On instinct, your eyes snap open, your entire body freezing in place.

"Right there?" he asks quietly, but you know he's not waiting for an answer, knows you couldn't talk even if you wanted to, "That's so much baby, good girl." His praise send throbs of pleasure to your pussy, warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes meet his and you can see how turned on he is, see the way the corners of his mouth twitch with pleasure. "Let go when you're ready, honey."

You hold yourself there for a few more seconds, eyes watering a little bit as you hold his gaze, just testing the power of your lungs and the strain of your jaw. When it becomes too much you pull your mouth off him and find yourself gasping for breath, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as drool spills down your chin.

"How was that?" he asks, thumbing your cheek again with one hand and stroking himself with the other, working your saliva up and down his length, "Uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, "It was good," you whisper, voice a bit crackly, "I wanna try and take more, can I?"

He nods, smiles encouragingly and taps his swollen cockhead against your bottom lip again, slow and tantalizing, "Course you can, babygirl," he murmurs, "Deep breath."

You inhale deeply again, gathering as much air into your lungs as possible before sinking your mouth down onto him and allowing his thick girth to fill you all over again. This time when you feel him reach that spot, you let yourself keep going just a little bit further, allow the head of his cock to push more firmly against it and slip the tiniest bit into the back of your throat.

You gag immediately.

It's very loud; a dry wretch that you can admit sounds absolutely horrific in the current circumstance. Before you can even really process what to do next, he's tugging you off his cock, voice suddenly worried, frantic, "Okay, no, that's too much," he says quickly, and you look up to see him shaking his head, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"M'fine," you try to garble out, but you're shocked when just talking suddenly sends you into a coughing fit. You bang on your chest and squeeze his thigh with your other hand, feeling more drool cascade down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"Angel," he says soothingly, leaning forward to pat your back, brows furrowed again in concern, "I'm sorry, honey."

You shake your head, "I-I'm okay," you splutter out, "Just gimme a second."

"It's too much," he repeats, almost pleading, "Please, baby, I don't wanna see you struggle, that's not fun for me."

As much as you hate the idea of giving up, you have to admit that he's right. That wretch had not been pleasant, and while you think you could eventually learn to take all of him, maybe forcing yourself to do it when you're supposed to be having fun on vacation isn't the best time.

"Okay," you mumble defeatedly, sitting back on your knees, "But I still wanna suck it."

He laughs again, relief flooding his features as he leans back on the couch and smiles crookedly at you, "You can still suck it, darlin'. Just take your time and don't push your limits, alright? Promise me."

"I promise."

You spend the next fifteen minutes or so playing with Joel's cock, stroking it with your hand, kitten licking along the shaft and head, just touching as much as you can without any time pressure for once. He pets your hair as he watches you, thumbs your cheeks and dimples, small groans tumbling past his lips, face scrunched in pleasure as you explore. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth, bob up and down slowly with your eyes trained on his face, feel the way his thick length twitches and pulses against your tongue.

It's almost feral the way you drink him down, hollowing your cheeks and basking in the way his body responds to you. You're so wet, aching to touch yourself but wanting this moment to be just for him, a thank you for this weekend, this hotel, for everything. Instead you palm his balls, roll them in your palm and revel in the desperate sounds he makes.

"I love your cock," you whine, repeating your earlier statement as you fist it up and down with spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, "I love it so much, Joel." You can feel yourself dripping in your bikini bottoms, feel your own slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I know, baby," he gasps out, running one hand through his hair and the other through yours as his belly tenses and untenses, as his thighs tremble, "I know you love it, s'all yours, baby. S'your cock."

"My cock," you echo, almost a whimper, "Mine."

"Yours, it's yours," he moans loudly, hands curling into fists as his head hits the back of the couch, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Come in my mouth," you tell him immediately, wasting no time in sinking back down onto his length. He doesn't ask if you're sure; he's too far gone to be a gentleman anymore, and you love it. You watch as he suddenly sits up on the couch, reaches both hands forward and cradles your head in them firmly. He helps you move up and down, groaning as he does, and then-

His cock pulses on your tongue, thick and heavy, bobbing against the roof of your mouth. You feel a burst of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another, all the while Joel moans and holds your head in place, toes curling into the rug. Your eyes roll back as he fills your mouth, overwhelmed by the salty taste and thick texture, and - without really meaning to - you swallow around him to make more space. He practically whines at the sensation, pulsing once more to release one final burst of his spend.

And then he's falling back against the couch, cock popping out of your mouth, expression dazed. Without thinking about it you swallow the rest of his cum, eyelashes fluttering at the odd sensation of it all slipping down your throat. So much, gone in an instant. It's only then that you actually realize what you've done.

"I swallowed it," you say, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach, "Was I supposed to swallow it?"

He laughs softly, covers his mouth with the back of his hand, "It is perfectly fine that you swallowed it, darlin'," he smiles wide and opens his arms, "C'mere."

You clamor off your knees and crawl into his lap immediately, straddling his thighs and pressing your wet bikini bottoms against the slope of his belly. He lets out a little groan, pulls you in and strokes your hair.

"You did so good," he praises you softly, kisses your temple, "So good, baby. Made me come so much."

"There was a lot," you tell him, nuzzling into his neck and letting your breathing slowly even out, "S'why I swallowed it, I was trying to make room."

"Was it okay? It didn't make you gag, did it?"

You shake your head, a pout on your lips, "Felt good in my mouth," you whisper, "I liked it."

He hums, hands trailing from your hair to your bare back where he unclasps your bikini top and lets it cascade to the floor, then reaches down and tugs at your bottoms. You lift up carefully, let him slip them down your thighs and watches as you kick them off, leaving you fully naked in his lap.

"So pretty when you're bare like this," he whispers, and it sends more slick to your folds, oozing down and making a mess on his tummy. He cups your pussy in one hand and slides two fingers easily inside of you, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You grip his arm, eyes falling closed and pitiful little sounds slipping from your mouth. "My good girl deserves a reward for suckin' my cock so good, swallowin' all that cum, don't you think?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and letting him fuck you with his digits, eyes rolling behind your lids.

"Yeah, you do," he answers for you, "You deserve it, angel. Always."

He makes you come easily, leaving you a messy, twitching heap in his lap as your arms wrap around his neck, body going lax and loose. After a few moments he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, helps you into the shower, smiles when you peer blearily up at him through your afterglow.

"Just close your eyes and lean against me," he tells you softly as the water falls, removing his swim trunks and getting in to stand behind you, "I'll get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

--

You nap after your shower, exhausted and sated in every possible way. Joel wakes you up around two o'clock with more room service - sandwiches and soup that you devour with bright eyes and light conversation side by side in bed. It's domestic bliss the way he thumbs mustard from your lips, pours you more water, slices your key lime pie and feeds it to you with a fond smile.

I love you I love you I love you.

"Would it absolutely ruin this moment if I suggested tryin' our hand at a hymn?" he asks when you've both finished, wiping the crumbs on his fingers with a napkin and gesturing to his guitar case in the corner of the room.

You grimace, "I guess not."

"I'm just thinkin' about your parents," he places his hand on your hip - clad in another one of his shirts - and gives you a sympathetic smile, "It's probably best to pick somethin' and have it ready."

You nod. You know he's right, that your lack of preparedness these past few weeks has been pretty reckless considering it's been the entire "reason" you've been seeing him. With a sigh you slip out from under the covers and traipse over to the couch, listening as Joel unclasps the guitar case.

"I did some research," he tells you as he walks over, hooking the strap over his shoulders as he goes, "I think our best bet for an easy tune is How Great Thou Art. Pretty repetitive chord progression, only uses G, C, and D."

You make a face, crossing your arms, "I can't believe I have to do this."

He laughs, "It was either that or Come Ye Sinners, and I think that one's a little too on the nose, don't you think?" He tosses you a smile and you can't help but return it, feeling your frustration melt away under his gaze.

"Can we do that thing again where I get a reward?" you ask shyly, biting your lip. His eyebrows go up, a smirk lighting his face.

"Hmm, I think that's doable," he sits down beside you, tuning the guitar, "What'd you have in mind?" You notice the way his eyes dart toward your groin and your cheeks warm.

"I was actually thinking that maybe..." your hands play with the hem of his shirt nervously, unsure what he'll say, "maybe you could play something for me? You said last night that you've written some songs," you shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "I'd... I'd really like to hear one, if you wouldn't mind."

He peers at you for a few seconds, smirk fading briefly only to be replaced with a tender smile, eyes softening as he gazes at you. Warmth blooms in your chest. You never want him to stop looking at you like that.

"I can do that," he tells you quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I mean... I can't promise it'll be good, but-"

"I don't care."

He chuckles and nods, grips the guitar again and clears his throat, "Well, alright then. Let's get started."

For the first time ever, the lesson is actually a lesson. No undercurrent of sex, no inappropriate touching or sensual glances, no teasing or filthy words. You're not sure how you're able to hold yourself back so easily, able to really focus on what Joel is saying and showing you, helping place your fingers in the right locations and teach you the strumming techniques. Maybe it's because you're tired - you did come three times already today - but it's not just that.

It just feels so... normal. So easy. You think back to that first lesson, the nervousness you'd felt and the pounding of your heart in your chest, the anticipation and the fear.

It's different now. Now that he's been inside you, become one with you, it's like your whole dynamic has changed - for the better. Of course you still feel that curious nervousness, the innocence, the electricity between you. But there's something so solid and tangible about it now, something certain. Something real.

He shapes your fingers along the neck of the guitar, praising you softly every time you play a note that sounds right, encouraging you as you repeat the G chord a few times, then C, then D. You strum along slowly, taking your time, and before you know it you're playing something that actually doesn't sound half bad.

"We definitely need to work on buildin' up those calluses," he murmurs, stroking the tips of your fingers under his thumb, "Well... If you're gonna do this long-term, I mean."

You peer at him curiously, tilting your head to the side. He looks sheepish, like he's said something he hadn't meant to.

"You think I could do this, like... for real? As a hobby?"

His mouth turns up at the corners and he nods, "I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin'."

Your heart is suddenly in your throat at his words, emotion bubbling under the surface of your skin. You drop your hand from the guitar and reach up to cup his face, pulling him toward you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back just as soft, just as careful.

"Thank you," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "Thank you for saying that."

He presses his forehead to yours, shakes his head ever so slightly, "Don't gotta thank me for sayin' what's true, angel. You deserve to hear it every single day."

You finish the lesson with tears still welling in your eyes, a lump in your throat. When you lean the guitar against the side of the couch he cradles your face in his hands and gently kisses the tears away, brushes his lips along your eyelids and cheeks, your jaw and your lips, saying everything without saying anything at all.

"Okay," you sigh, taking a deep breath and opening your eyes to smile sweetly at him, "Time for my reward."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes a little, reaching for the guitar and beginning to tune it again. You watch as he twists the keys, strums a little here and there, hums softly for each note to match his voice. Anticipation rises in your chest.

"Now, uh," he clears his throat a bit, avoiding eye contact, "It's been a while since I played this one but it's, uh," he takes a breath, "It's one I wrote when Sarah was born. Used to sing it to her to help her fall asleep."

You melt at the words, smiling wider, "What's it called?"

He finally meets your eyesight, lips pressing together sheepishly, "Sarah."

Oh, duh. You nod in encouragement, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and waiting for him to begin. He takes another deep breath, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers shape the first chord. It's then that you notice his hands - usually deft and steady - are trembling a little bit, so much so that he has to readjust his position on the strings a few times.

He's nervous.

He stares at his hand, takes another deep breath.

You wait.

"Sorry," he mumbles under his breath, "Sorry, just gimme a minute."

"It's okay, take your time." Your voice is barely a whisper, awestruck by the sudden vulnerability you're witnessing. He'd agreed to the reward so quickly, you'd been sure he didn't mind. But now as you sit here waiting, you're not so sure. You watch him take more deep breaths, watch as he closes his eyes and seems to center himself.

"If you don't want to-"

"I want to," he says immediately, shaking his head, "I want to, I've just... I haven't sung in a while."

Your brow furrows, confused, "You sang yesterday in the car, didn't you? And you sang Tangled Up In Blue when we first met, and that other one, the one from the eighties."

His lips turn up at the corners, a welcome smile, "Take On Me."

"Yeah, that one."

He sighs, tightening his grip on the guitar, "It's not that I haven't sung I guess. Wrong wordin'," he bites his lip, "It's moreso that I haven't sung this one. Or any of my originals. Not for a long time."

You frown, "How come?"

"I guess... I just..." he searches for the words, staring at the floor, "No one's really asked me to. And it's not like I'm playin' gigs or tourin' or any of that pipe dream stuff I thought about when I was a kid." He laughs humorlessly, like the concept is ridiculous, "So I guess I just kinda... stopped, after a while."

You feel a sudden sadness that you can't really explain, picturing that bright-eyed little version of Joel, stuck in a household that wouldn't let him grow, wouldn't let him be himself. All those dreams and big ideas, dashed before he was able to get out and make his mark. Life getting busy, too busy, other responsibilities taking up all his time until the thing he loved most became nothing but a memory. A pipe dream.

It makes your heart ache.

"D'you mind if I just..." he meets your gaze again finally, eyes soft and a little sad, "Could I maybe just hum it? Instead? I know that's kind of a cop-out, but-"

"Of course you can," you breathe out, hand coming down to rest atop his knee, "Of course you can hum it."

"I'm sorry, baby, I know you wanted -"

"It's hard being vulnerable, Joel," you interrupt him again, shaking your head and stroking your thumb against his skin, "God knows it's been hard for me, and you've been nothing but patient." You give him a watery smile and he returns it, "Please take your time. I can be patient too, I promise."

You can tell how much he appreciates it. He reaches down and picks up your hand, presses a gentle kiss to the back of it before setting it back down and taking one last deep breath.

"Well, here it is," he says with a little more confidence, a smile playing at his lips.

You've heard him play before, obviously; you've already seen the way his fingers work the strings like it's just second nature, the way his thumb strums out the chords effortlessly. But this time is different. Knowing what he's playing is completely original, born from his own creativity out of love and devotion, a father's affection and protectiveness, it just sounds special. New. He begins to pluck out a soft, slow, soothing melody that immediately puts you at ease, makes you lean back further against the couch and loosen your body. It's tender, quiet - a lullaby.

He hums softly, voice crackling a bit in his throat at first but then settling into a smooth and comforting sound. It's almost like a waltz, the way the chords change back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. Of course you wonder what the real words are, what his quiet hums are substituting, but you find that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the look on his face, eyes distant, as if he's picturing his daughter as she was when she was little. You try to picture it too, thinking of the photograph in his house, the one of him pushing Sarah on the swing. Just a father and his little girl, against the world.

It isn't a very long song. It fades out relatively quickly, and as soon as he strums out the final chord you sit up on the couch and clap ferociously, tears stinging in your eyes all over again.

"I'd usually, uh, play it a couple times for her," he says awkwardly, "'Til she fell asleep."

"It was beautiful," you tell him earnestly, "It was so beautiful, Joel."

He shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh and swivels around to go place his guitar back in its case. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. You know how he feels when you spot the tips of ears, tinged pink, warm from your praise.

--

The rest of the day passes in what feels like a warm, luxurious, passionate blur. You go to dinner that evening and order lobster, revel in the way it practically melts in your mouth with sips of champagne and bites of blueberry cheesecake. Joel tells you a little more about his life, tells you everything you want to know about his daughter and his ex. It's not a difficult or uncomfortable conversation like you'd been worried it might be. Instead, you feel closer learning these things about him, feel even more connected to him than you did before as he tells you about Mish and Sarah, their relationship, the arrangement.

"I think I understand it better now," you tell him thoughtfully, "Now that I've actually..." you peer at him shyly, "You know... done it."

He chuckles, "Sex is a powerful thing, it really is. And when you find someone you're compatible with it can be really easy to keep goin' back to 'em. Settle into it, you know? Even if the other parts of your relationship don't work."

"It's like...friends with benefits, right?"

"Exactly. And it really does work for some people, worked for Mish and I for a long time," he shakes his head and reaches across the table to take your hand, "But that's over now, I need you to know that. It's over. You're the only woman in my life and that's how I want it to be. You believe me right?"

His eyes are soft, warm, loving, sincerity practically glowing in his expression.

"I believe you, Joel. Of course I believe you."

You have sex again when you get back to the room, slow and intimate and tender and perfect. You claw at his back as whimpers and cries tear from your mouth, writhing in pleasure beneath him on the bed as he fills you over and over, murmurs filth in your ear and presses down on your clit with his thumb. It's like you've died and gone to heaven, this feeling of permanent bliss and satisfaction, the sensation of being so full and so connected. It's the closest you've ever felt to real inner peace; who would have thought that sitting on a cock instead of in a church pew would be the thing to bring you closer to godliness?

I pray at the church of Joel Miller, you think to yourself as you recover from your fifth orgasm of the day, laying there with fluttering lashes and heaving belly, mind foggy and eyes bleary. Joel is kissing your thighs somewhere below, whispering praises, humming against your skin as he wipes a warm cloth over your twitching pussy.

"I keep thinking about how many sins I've committed in the last twenty four hours," you mumble to him, sleep quickly making its way into your psyche, "And then I remember that I don't care."

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you drift off.

--

Sunday morning is bittersweet. You spend most of it wrapped in Joel's embrace, tracing the freckles and scars on his skin, drifting in and out of consciousness while he peppers kisses all over your face and neck. You have to leave the hotel by noon, get back on the road again and head back home, but the bed is so warm. He's so warm. Everything is warm.

"You never fucked me in the shower," you whisper to him softly, so quiet you wonder if he can even hear you, "Or on the floor."

"I still can," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, fingers trailing delicately through your hair, "We have a little time."

You nuzzle into his warmth and close your eyes, sighing contentedly, "No," you breathe, "I just want you to hold me."

So he does.

--

The drive home is quieter, but not in a bad way. You're still tired from your escapades and find yourself dozing every so often, vaguely aware of Joel turning down the volume or switching the song to something more chill when he notices you starting to drift. His hand is ever-present on your thigh, stroking the skin over and over like it's just habit at this point. You know you should be forcing yourself to stay awake, to enjoy these last few hours before life goes back to normal, but he really did a number on you.

It's only when you stop at a gas station - the same one where you first saw the playlist you weren't sure you were meant to - that you finally start to feel more awake.

"So tell me about this Angel playlist," you say with a smirk, waving his phone at him as he gets back in the truck, "Can we listen to it?"

A look of surprise crosses his face, but he doesn't seem upset, "How did you even find out about that?"

"I'm in control of the music, remember? It's your spotify."

He groans, cheeks flushing as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the station, avoiding eye contact. "You were not supposed to see that."

Intrigue floods your brain, fuels your grin, "So it's for me?"

He takes a moment to respond, thumb stroking the wheel as he eyes the road, lip between his teeth. You can tell he's debating whether or not he should answer you, but his silence says everything. Impatient, you practically bounce in your seat, "Can we listen to it? Pretty please?"

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who is this girl sittin' in the front seat of my truck?" He squeezes your thigh, "You're gettin' bold, darlin'. I like it."

"Enough to let me listen to the playlist?"

He sighs, but you know he's not mad, can see the smile tugging at his lips, "...Maybe. At least enough to listen to one song. Will that tide you over?"

"Yes, it most certainly will," you're already tapping Angel, eyes alight with curiosity, "Which song?"

"Northern Sky by Nick Drake, should be the first one there."

You turn to him with a raised brow, "How do you know that's the first song?"

"'Cause I made the damn playlist."

"And you listen to it a lot?"

He laughs again, eyes rolling fondly as he turns his attention back to the road and grins at your words, "You're somethin' else."

You've still got a shit eating grin on your face as the song starts, the soft strumming of guitar filling the small space. Oh, this is pretty. You playfully nod your head to the chords and he rolls his eyes again, strokes your thigh and keeps his attention focused on the road.

And then the lyrics start.

I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky

Your grin fades almost immediately, realization blooming on your face as the reality of what this playlist actually is begins to dawn on you. You'd thought maybe it was songs he wanted to share with you, songs he wanted to teach you how to play. Just random tunes that he compiled together with you in mind.

No, that's not what this is at all. As the lyrics continue, the melody growing more steady, more beautiful, you realize that these are songs that remind him of you. An entire playlist dedicated to the way he feels.

You stare at the road as the song plays out, not speaking. Your eyes are stinging with tears but you can't bring yourself to say anything, to even look at him. You feel him squeeze your thigh again, a comforting and reassuring little gesture. As if to say, l know, I'm here. As the final chords fade out you frantically reach for his phone and press pause, out of respect for his privacy but also because you're completely unprepared to hear another song like that. You catch him peering at you in your periphery, and you will yourself to look at him with watery eyes.

"Satisfied?" he asks softly, giving you that gorgeous crooked smile.

All you can choke out is a "Yeah."

--

Arriving back at the parking garage hurts. Joel pulls his truck in beside your car, still in the same spot you'd left it, and takes the key out of the ignition with a long sigh. You look over at him, emotion burning in your throat.

"I don't wanna go home," you whisper.

"Oh, babygirl," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "C'mere." He holds his arms open and you clamor over the center console to settle into his lap, burying your face in his neck. He holds you tight and rubs your back, hushes you softly when you start to cry. How is this weekend already over? How are things just supposed to go back to normal now?

"I don't want you to go back there either," he breathes, "If I had it my way you'd be comin' home with me." You feel him press a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear, "But you're strong. You're stronger than you think you are and I know you can get through this. Whatever they have to say, whatever they do, you'll get through it. We'll get through it together."

You don't say anything else, just melt into the warmth of his body and let him hold you, comfort you, until your cries and hiccups fade into even breaths. You pull back slowly and peer at his beautiful face, long to say the words you've been holding back all weekend - but you know there's a reason you've been holding back, know this isn't the right time, not yet.

Instead, you kiss him. It's soft and sweet, a tender goodbye. Temporary, fleeting. You know it's not forever, know you'll probably sneak over tomorrow night to see him again under cover of darkness, find yourself in his bed, get wrapped up in him. But it's a goodbye nonetheless. A goodbye to this - the simplicity, the sense of normalcy and lack of time constraints, the domestic bliss and the thrill of the escape. A goodbye to the bliss.

Driving away from him a few minutes later, watching his truck fade into the distance in your rearview mirror - you think it might be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 27: "I thought we agreed it was over."

Eddie saw Steve's beemer pull up outside the trailer before he heard the knock at the door. The words were already leaving his lips as he opened it, "I thought we agreed it was over."

It had hurt, the break up, but Eddie had been expecting it. He knew Steve would never be his forever no matter how much he wanted him to be. It was all too easy for him to push back the tears and agreed when Steve said things like it was for the best and that they'd never work.

He had tried not to think about all the times Steve had said how much he loved how they were different, that it meant they got to share things with the other person. How Steve whispered love confessions when he thought Eddie was asleep weeks before he was brave enough to voice them in the daylight.

It was over, and that was that, so why was Steve here?

The sentence fizzled out though when he took in Steve's features. A quickly blackening swollen eye, a split lip, knuckles bruised and bleeding. Steve was trying to hold his side while also tightly gripping the backpack on his other shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie hadn't heard from Steve in months besides the occasional update from the kids or a glance at him from hellfire pick ups. The sound of those words made him realise how much he had missed Steve's voice despite how broken it now sounded.

All the hurt he'd felt melted away, stored for a later time when Steve wasn't swaying so much, when his face wasn't so pale. Eddie gently guided him inside, taking the backpack and placing it on the couch before leading Steve to the bathroom.

He methodically cleaned up his cuts and checked his ribs and tried not to think about the fact that the doctor said Steve shouldn't risk another concussion. He got Steve a change of clothes and sat him upright on the bed.

"Can't sleep yet, sweetheart, got to make sure your heads ok for awhile, alright?"

Steve's eyes became misty again, "Didn't think I'd ever hear you call me that again, Eds. I'm so sorry."

Eddie took Steve's less injured hand in his, gently stroking the back of it, "What happened, Steve?"

The question didn't help the tears that now seemed to flow freely down Steve's cheeks, "I thought if I broke up with you I could keep you safe, keep the both of us safe."

Eddie's grip tightened slightly, "Stevie."

"I was stupid I should've given the box of stuff from you to Robin or someone but I wanted to keep a piece of you close, and he, he found a picture of the two of us, the one Jonathan took at your birthday party."

Eddie knew the picture, it was his favourite, he still kept it tacked to his wall, didn't have the heart to take it down and put it with every other part of Steve that now sat in a box under his bed. Jonathan had caught the exact moment Steve kissed him while he cut his cake, they looked so happy, they were happy.

Eddie could infer the rest, "Your dad did this then?"

Steve nodded, "Kicked me out too, I'm sorry I would've gone to Dustin's but he's at his grandparents and Robin is at college and I just." Eddie pulls Steve closer, "I'm glad you came here, baby, you're safe here." Steve seems to finally relax at those words, like he'd been holding his breath since the day they'd parted.

"I didn't mean anything I said, Eddie," Steve cried.

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile. "I know, let's talk about all that later, just rest now I'll wake you up in a little bit to check your head again," Eddie said pushing Steve softly down onto the bed. They had a lot to discuss, a lot of hearts to mend but for now Eddie just needed Steve to be ok.

"Will you stay?"

"As long as you need me."

[izzy-b-hands]

8/20's au-gust fill...is in progress but might also just get deleted and skipped lmao (it's still so wordy and not finished and I have zero confidence in this fucker. I think I would like it but then again I like verbose little weird novellas/short stories that are a packed slice of time and then I never hear from any of the characters in that universe/au ever again but think about them forever after. But that's definitely not to everyone's taste or even anyone's taste in general, broadly so. Things to consider)

today's (8/21) fill isn't happening. Tomorrow's fill, possibly.

thank fuck 8/23's fill has been done for ages now

and I'm picking away at fills for 8/24 and 8/25 for now (bc I can't sleep until I get more done, even if it's just a few lines that I wind up deleting)

[musamora]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Hey, so I'm not gonna answer this question with your username out, because I don't want you getting dogpiled.

But I feel the need to address this because it comes up now and then.

First of all: Thank you for liking my comic and wanting it to come faster! I'm psyched to hear that you like it that much.

And while I fully understand the feeling of "why can't the thing I want just HAPPEN", this is... unfortunately... not a very kind thing to send to an artist. Or a writer. Or any creator.

Not the way it's worded, anyway.

So, let's discuss:

Why can't the comic be weekly again?

Well, if you can understand why THIS is irrational:

Then you can understand why the comic can't be weekly just because you REALLY REALLY want it to be.

Resources like money and time aren't just something that drops into my hands. I'm an adult. I work. I have a life outside of this. I have a dog! I get up at 6am to walk her. I drive to work an hour each way. I try to help my spouse out around the house.

And I daresay, even though I once posted weekly, the quality and length of my comics has gone up quite a bit and it now requires twice the amount of time to make them without burning out.

Look, to make it 100% clear, when I'm pushing the comics to be two weeks apart, this is NOT what is happening:

This magical contraption does not exist. It's not effortless, it's not immediate.

It takes me the full two weeks, if not more, to create these comics.

Yes, they're spaced out quite far apart, but that's how far apart they gotta be in order for me to be able to bring them to you.

And yes, I know the comic is already made. But I am making them at a pace of two per month on Patreon, and just because I post them faster doesn't mean I'll make them faster!

Basically your options are:

Regular updates that are two weeks apart

Semi-regular updates that are sometimes less than two weeks apart, but with multiple month-long hiatuses between them.

I've chosen regular updates. For me AND for you guys.

And man, there are MANY better ways to tell an artist or a creator you love "hey, I can't wait to see more of your content!".

For example:

"Hey, I can't wait to see more of your content!"

You can also try:

"I look forward to every update!"

and

"Every time you put out a new comic, I'm eager to read what comes next!"

It'll go a long way, I promise!

[valeriele3]

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻-𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓃𝓀𝒶𝒾 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓁

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

✎ Sorry for the somewhat rushed ending! ^^;

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Messages.

Idle chats.

You were answering them like normal. Sometimes even giggling on the messages

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

You log in, check your messages, answer them if there's one, do daily tasks, and maybe farm, then log out. That was your daily routine in HSR.

However, you begin to notice how much more frequent the chats are. After assigning an assignment, you get a new message. 'Oh well. Free jades," you thought.

Every time you beat an enemy, boss, or do anything in the game, you will notice a new message.

'Maybe it was an update? Or a bug?' You brushed it all off and thought nothing of it.

You would answer all of them wholeheartedly; after all, you also noticed that if the character liked what you said, you'd receive more Stellar Jades.

You'd talk about it with your friends, but they'd respond with "I wish", "Oh shut up~ Don't make me hope", and "Hm? Is your game bugged?? Or is mine bugged? I don't get any of those benefits..So unfair."

You try to check the dev logs to see if there was an update regarding the messaging feature, but whenever you try to look at them, your computer freezes.

'No matter, I can just check using my phone.' No luck; it also freezes.

'Maybe my tablet?' Still the same.

Frustrated, you ask one of your friends to look into it. "There's no update or any fixes on it, Y/N. Maybe you should report it; your game might really be bugged."

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Deciding to report it, you open up Bug Report, but then your screen freezes again.

It then opens up the messages, and you read the following words:

| Hey

| Please don't do it.

| It took such a long time to break the code, you know.

| Hey

| Are you still there?

| Oh

| Right

The messaging bubble pops up.

| You can type now.

"W-What.." You stare at your screen dumbfounded.

Reaching out to your keyboard, hoping it won't work and choices will pop up, you press a random key, and it works

Startled, you immediately plugged out the cables on your computer, causing it to shut down.

You grab your phone and start messaging one of your friends. Before you could hit send, the screen blackened, and then in the next second, it lit up with a notification.

"Hey, we were in the middle of a conversation."

"Why did you suddenly leave?"

Your hand trembles. 'Shit, how..How did it get to my phone too..'

"I know I like reading self-aware au's but I didn't want it to actually be true!" You scream, throwing your phone across the room.

You can hear it dinging with new message after new message.

You decide to leave your room for a bit to calm down.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

"Ok..Be calm..I'm probably dreaming, right?"

"There's no way this kind of thing will actually happen in real life."

"I need to think about this rationally. I could try to get my phone and computer fixed..Maybe I accidentally got a bug."

"Oh, my tablet too..It probably has the same bug.."

"Then, uhm, should I tell them about this? No, maybe..Agh! This is so frustrating..!"

After going back and forth, you decided to sell your gadgets instead of trying to repair them. Buying new ones is much cheaper than trying to get them fixed.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

The first month was alright. You also stopped playing HSR just in case something of the sort would happen again.

However, everything changed when you awoke to your notifications going off like crazy.

【Luka】

| Hey! Y/N, wanna come watch my tournament this week?

【Qingque】

| Y/N

| This is urgent. Come to Exalting Sanctum

| Watch me go against this pro. I'm sure with your attendance I'll easily win.

【Robin】

| Y/N, would you like to come watch my concert?

| Don't worry! I made sure that you'd get the best seat.

【Sunday】

| Y/N. Do me a favor and attend Robin's concert, will you?

| If you don't..

| Well, it'll certainly make her sad. As for me, it's best you don't know.

【Arlan】

| Hello, Y/N

| Would you like to accompany me with walking Peppy?

【Blade】

| Come.

【Bailu】

| Y/N!

| I have made a huge discovery!

| Meet me at Aurum Alley!

【M̵̛̼̘̭͎͓̘̘̽̎̃̊̄͋̈́̑̇i̵̡̨̡͎̖̮͉̺̣͂ͅs̴̰͂̉́̅͒̆̄́̄̋̚͜͠͠͝ͅȟ̵͉̹̖͍͎̱̭̳̰̘̀a̵̧̨͔̣̘̮̻̐̆̌̀͑̊̄̄͌͗̓̌͘̕̚】

| C̷̛͇̬̥̼̲̙̠͓̭̺̱̻̟͖̜̾͑͋͊́̀̕͝ä̷̡̨̨̨̡̤̫͔̼̗̫̪̟̰́̏́̾̄͘͝ͅn̸̡̪̱̻̜̻̺͊̍͒̂͗̀̍͐̔͆̆̎̚̕̕ ̷̛̻̟̀̇͐͋̋̌̂͒́͑̏͝y̴̮͆͒̈͒͑͋͆̒̂̓̕͘̚͝͝o̸̩̫̰̤͌̈͝ͅu̷̻̗͉̥̺͕͉͔̠̯͇̭̖̐͜ ̵͖̲̼̥͑͝ḣ̵̟͓̆͌̄̑̂̈́̓̚͘̕͝͝e̷͖̥̜̅͛̂̒͒̕͜a̶̧̫̹͉͆͑̊͊̊̐̐̂̈̉̾͜͝r̶͎̫͛̑͊͌͐̎ ̴̢̢̛͓͉̮͇̞̬̪͔͓̦̾̓̈́̀͐̀̂̀͒͝ͅm̴̤̙͎̽͋̽̇͛́͑͌̃͑̊e̷̦͚̔́̔̀̒͊͂̔̕̚͝.̵͎͓̪̥͍̍̓͂̾̌̂̌̚̚ͅ.̵̨̟͉͕͈̜͎̻̗͓̯̜̜̩̓̈́̓͊̆̓̑͐̈̐̄̀̕?̵̙̠͚̆͊͊̇͌

【Aventurine】

| Why're you ignoring my calls and texts?

| Is the money not enough for you?

【Pela】

| The Tale of the Winterlands original artbook sold out in 1 second again

| But

| I was fast enough to get you a copy too

| Don't worry. I'm messaging the right person this time

【Natasha】

| Y/N, did your cold get better?

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

You stare at your phone, frozen. Even as you were sitting there staring at it, the messages continued to flood nonstop.

It

Was

Nonstop

Even if it's on silent mode and DND, you can still hear it dinging.

At one point, the messages started appearing in all the social apps that you use.

Hell, it even started appearing in your smart fridge

You deleted and deactivated everything. Throwing away any and all sorts of electronics that could potentially be used for apps.

But you could still hear it.

Even the sound of the doorbell ringing, the kettle whistling, or your telephone ringing makes you panic. 'What if that's them?' You always think

Every creak, every shuffle, and every little sound makes you paranoid.

What if they cross over to Earth? What will you do? You can't run from them. Even if you do, they'll be able to find you easily.

[wrioluvr]

coming out to + confessing to belobog men. ⋆⋅♡⋅⋆

note: wanted to try my hand at writing more cute stuff <3 also there are like ZERO posts in the luka x male reader tag my baby deserves more. happy pride my beloved readers!!! i wrote this like 6 months ago and coincidentally just picked it back up in time for june! i don't even play hsr anymore... crying emoji content: male reader, fluff. luka, sampo, gepard

sampo (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

would 100% know before you even told him

"hey, [name]! heard you got something to tell me, don't worry, your good pal sampo's all ears."

"sampo... uh.....i like... guys...."

"oh, is that it? i thought it was obvious..."

"HUH????"

"i meant- thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. your secret's safe with me, hehe." placing his hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture, he promises sincerely. despite his initial reaction, he really is touched. not many people trust him, so your willingness to share something so personal made him feel special.

"oh, and one more thing....."

"what is it? you got a secret boyfriend you didn't tell me about?" he asks teasingly, not expecting the bomb you're about to drop on him.

"...i like you."

his eyes go wide. "now that's a surprise."

even though he'd scam people without a second thought, some calling him cruel, he can't bring himself to be indifferent to you. here you were, pouring your heart out, with such a nervous expression on your face, how could he maintain his usual sly demeanour? in all seriousness, he knows he's a bit scummy, so he would be a bit hesitant about getting into a relationship for your sake. he's always running about, chased by the authorities, he doesn't want you to be involved into all that. but if you're willing to accept him and his slippery ways, he'll be sure to put an equal amount of effort. he hates owing favours, after all.

"oh, how could i refuse such a an enticing offer? of course i'll be your boyfriend, [name]." he can't help the grin that appears on his face at your expression, simultaneously shocked and overjoyed. "seriously, you're too precious.... c'mon, let's go on a date!" throwing an arm around you, he squeezes your shoulder excitedly.

"wha- like right now?? and you accepted my confession just like that???" you're at loss of words as he drags you along to who knows where.

"what are you waiting for? let's go, pal! wait- should i call you pal now that we're dating? how about buddy? hmm... still too friendly. how do you feel about sweetheart?"

જ⁀➴

every time he appears at your door, giving you a sheepish grin as he explains how he needs to lay low for a bit, it always comes with a kiss, or several, along with a heart-shaped box of your favourite chocolates. he might go missing for a few days at a time on "business" (probably some illegal trading), but he always makes sure to update you on his whereabouts so you don't worry, sending a bunch of heart pom-pom stickers to let you know he misses you. if anyone were to ever make some snide comments about your sexuality, his first instinct would be to drop every job he's doing and comfort you, followed by using his various contacts to deal with that person swiftly. natasha and seele can't believe he actually got someone to like him, much less get into a serious relationship, but nevertheless, they make sure to look out for you to ensure he doesn't break your heart. he vows not to ever hurt you though, it's the last thing he'd ever want. his promises are often fickle with his clients, but with you, they're always sincere.

luka (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

would definitely being overenthusiastic about being an ally

"[name], hey! you wanted to tell me something? i hope it's about training with me...."

"sorry, luka, it's not about that.... i.... i just wanted to let you know that i'm gay."

"oh! like seele and bronya!"

"i mean- i guess....?" your nervousness was immediately replaced by a comical surprise at his response, you had to suppress your laughter. he was so genuine, it was endearing.

"don't worry! if any thugs give you shit for it, just tell me. i'll deal with them right away... i've been itching for a fight anyway." he immediately gets into a fighting stance, throwing a few punches in the air to get his point across. he ended his little show with a wink, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. you decided to tell him then and there.

"and uh, luka. i like you."

"aw, thanks! i like you too. you're a great friend, [name]."

"like, in the romantic way..."

"that works too! that way, i can protect you easier." without missing a beat, he flashes you a grin and a thumbs up, seemingly unfazed by your sudden confession. but the slight dust of red on his cheeks let you know your words did have an effect.

"wait... you know this means we'll be boyfriends?" your head's reeling at how easily he accepted your feelings. did this man really not think about anything but training and beating up thugs??? not that you were complaining, his drive was one of his charming points, but still.

"yeah, i don't mind. with someone like you by my side, i'm sure i could take on any enemy. thank you for giving me this opportunity."

જ⁀➴

even though he puts on a strong front, secretly, he's deathly afraid of becoming a burden, especially to you. one of his favourite pastimes is training and working out with you, or he'd be content for you to just watch him train and cheer for him as well. as long as he has the reassurance that you know he's getting stronger, allowing him to shield you from the dangers of the underworld. if he ever gets injured, a simple persuasion won't work, you'll have to physically hold him in place so that you can treat his cuts and bruises - no matter how much he protests and insists he's fine, he does appreciate it. a lot. he enjoys the little things, the way you run your fingers along the cool metal of his arm as you ramble about your day, or the enthusiastic whoop you give every time he knocks an opponent out at the fight club, or the scent of the freshly cleaned towel you bring him to dry his sweat. you help him realise that there's time to relax, his self-imposed training schedule being so intense and demanding. getting him to not be so hard on himself would be a treat. if you ever get derogatory comments about your sexuality... trust, he'll personally teach them a lesson, and ask natasha not to treat them once he's done. after all, you give him another reason to continue training to be the strongest. he has to be there for you.

gepard ( •̀ - •́ )

dense cutie... wouldn't get your hints until you told him explicitly

"my apologies for being late, [name]... you had something you wanted to tell me?"

"no problem, gepard... i just wanted to tell you that-" taking a deep breath, you prepare youself for his reaction. "-i like guys."

"oh? me too, i'm quite fond of the guards under my care."

"i mean that i'm gay..."

"oh, that's what you meant. are you telling me this because you've faced some form of discrimination lately? don't worry, belobog has strict laws in place to prevent-"

"no, gepard- i'm telling this because i like you..."

"oh."

જ⁀➴

congratulations, you've courted the sweetest man in all of belobog! initially, he was slightly worried that your newfound relationship would interfere with his duties as protector of the people, but much to his surprise, making time for you is easy. or more so, it's because you always make the effort to stop by whenever he's out patrolling, so you end up spending a lot of time together anyway. his face might get red when you blow him a kiss behind the rest of the silvermane guards' backs, but he always makes sure to let you know how much he appreciates your guidance. he's a little self-conscious about his lack of romantic experience, so be gentle with him! don't tease him too much. while he is fully devoted to his duty, he's not above slipping away for a few minutes when you text him to meet in a back alley, to gift him some flowers you may or may not have stolen from belobog's florist. the next day, he would return the favour by holding out a bunch of your favourite flowers, home grown (an attempt was made) in his very own garden. hey, even if they're slightly wilted, it's the thought that counts, right? don't look at him with that affectionate gaze! he's embarrassed. it would be quite funny if you had criminal tendencies, gepard would be absolutely torn between lecturing you and turning a blind eye simply because his lovely boyfriend had made lunch for him earlier in the day. especially if you're friends with sampo, the little shit would threaten to snitch to you everytime gepard almost catches him. or.... perhaps.... he let you off the hook because of that one time you pinned him against some alley wall (when he was supposed to be patrolling! blasphemous.) and kissed him so hard his legs gave out. you've become one of his weaknesses, but he doesn't mind it. at all.

pic credits to dailysampo, dailygepard and dailylukaa on twt!