#i'm doing two october challenges!

[suga-parade]

reality, clarity, soobin

[coconut530]

Bump in the Night & Sleeptober & Nevertober Day 1: Too Many Eyes & Angels & Trapped

Vessel reference bc my drawing doesn’t capture the awe (tm):

@whitejawz for Sleeptober

[queenlucythevaliant]

Clad in Justice and Worth

Written for the Inklings Challenge 2023 (@inklings-challenge). Inspired by the lives of Jeanne d'Albret and Marguerite de Navarre, although numerous liberties have been taken with the history in the name of introducing fantastical elements and telling a good story. The anglicization of names (Jeanne to Joan and Marguerite to Margaret) is meant to reflect the fictionalization of these figures.

The heat was unbearable, and it would grow only hotter as they descended into the lowlands. It was fortunate, Joan decided, that Navarre was a mountain country. It was temperate, even cold there in September. It would be sweltering by the sea.

The greater issue ought to have been the presence of Monluc, who would cut Joan’s party off at the Garonne River most like. The soldiers with whom she traveled were fierce, but Monluc had an entire division at the Garrone. Joan would be a prisoner of war if Providence did not see her through. Henry, perhaps, might suffer worse. He might be married to a Catholic princess.

Yet Joan was accustomed to peril. She had cut her teeth on it. Her first act as queen, some twenty years ago, had been to orchestrate the defense of her kingdom, and she was accustomed to slipping through nets and past assassins. The same could not be said of the infernal heat, which assaulted her without respite. Joan wore sensible travel clothing, but the layers of her skirts were always heavy with sweat. A perpetual tightness sat in her chest, the remnant of an old bout with consumption, and however much she coughed it would not leave.

All the same, it would not do to seem less than strong, so she hid the coughing whenever she could. The hovering of her aides was an irritant and she often wished she could just dismiss them all.

“How fare you in the heat, Majesty?”

“I have war in my gut, Clemont,” Joan snapped. “Worry not for me. If you must pester someone, pester Henry.”

He nodded, chastened. “A messenger is here from Navarre. Sent, I suspect, to induce you to return hence.”

“I would not listen to his birdcalls.”

“Young Henry said much the same.”

Joan stuffed down her irritation that Clemont had gone to Henry before he’d come to her. She was still queen, even if her son was rapidly nearing his majority. “Tell him that if the Huguenot leaders are to be plucked, I think it better that we all go together. Tell him that I would rather my son and I stand with our brothers than await soldiers and assassins in our little kingdom.”

Her aide gave a stiff nod. “At once, your Majesty.”

She would breathe easier when they reached the host at La Rochelle. Yet then, there would be more and greater work to do. There would be war, and Joan would be at the head of it.

*

When she awoke in the night, Joan knew at once that something was awry. It was cool. Gone was the blistering heat that had plagued them all day. Perhaps one of the kidnapping plots had finally succeeded.

Certainly, it seemed that way. She was in a cell, cool and dank and no more than six paces square. And yet—how strange! —the door was open.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, Joan crept towards the shaft of moonlight that fell through it. She glanced about for guards, but saw only a single prisoner in dirty clothes standing just beyond the threshold. He was blinking rapidly, as though the very existence of light bewildered him. Then, as Joan watched, he crept forward towards the gate of the jailhouse and out into the free air beyond. Joan listened for a long moment, trying to hear if there was any commotion at the prisoner’s emergence. When she could perceive none, she followed him out into the cool night air.

A lantern blazed. “Come quickly,” a voice hissed. “Our friend the Princess is waiting.”

The prisoner answered in a voice too quiet for Joan to hear. Then, quite suddenly, she heard his companion say, “Who is it that there behind you?”

The prisoner turned round, and Joan’s fingers itched towards her hidden knife. But much to her astonishment, he exclaimed, “Why, it is the lady herself! Margaret!”

But Joan had no opportunity to reply. Voices sounded outside her pavilion and she awoke to the oppressive heat of the day before. Coughing hard, Joan rolled ungracefully from her bed and tried to put away the grasping tendrils of her dream.

“The river is dry, Majesty” her attendant informed her as soon as she emerged from her pavilion, arrayed once again in sensible riding clothes. “The heat has devoured it. We can bypass Monluc without trouble, I deem.”

“Well then,” Joan replied, stifling another cough. “Glory to God for the heat.”

*

They did indeed pass Monluc the next day, within three fingers of his nose. Joan celebrated with Henry and the rest, yet all the while her mind was half taken up with her dream from the night before. Never, in all her life, had her mind conjured so vivid a sensory illusion. It had really felt cool in that jail cell, and the moonlight beyond it had been silver and true. Stranger still, the prisoner and his accomplice had called Joan by her mother’s name.

Joan had known her mother only a little. At the age of five, she had been detained at the French court while her mother returned to Navarre. This was largely on account of her mother’s religious convictions. Margaret of Angoulême had meddled too closely with Protestantism, so her brother the king had seen fit to deprive her of her daughter and raise her a Catholic princess.

His successor had likewise stolen Henry from Joan, for despite the king’s best efforts she was as Protestant as her mother. Yet unlike Margaret, Joan had gone back for her child. Two years ago, she had secretly swept Henry away from Paris on horseback. She’d galloped the horses nearly to death, but she’d gotten him to the armed force waiting at the border, and then at last home to Navarre. Sometimes, Joan wondered why her own mother had not gone to such lengths to rescue her. But Margaret’s best weapons had been tears, it was said, and tears could not do the work of sharp swords.

The Navarre party arrived at La Rochelle just before dusk on the twenty-eighth of September. The heat had faltered a little, to everyone’s great relief, but the air by the sea was still heavy with moisture. The tightness in Joan’s chest persisted.

“There will be much celebration now that you have come, Your Majesty,” said the boy seeing to her accommodations. “There’s talk of giving you the key to the city, and more besides.”

Sure enough, Joan was greeted with applause when she entered the Huguenot council. “I and my son are here to promote the success of our great cause or to share in its disaster,” she said when the council quieted. “I have been reproached for leaving my lands open to invasion by Spain, but I put my confidence in God who will not suffer a hair of our heads to perish. How could I stay while my fellow believers were being massacred? To let a man drown is to commit murder.”

*

Sometimes it seemed that the men only played at war. The Duke of Conde, who led the Huguenot forces, treated it as a game of chivalry between gentlemen. Others, like Monluc, regarded it as a business; the mercenaries he hired robbed and raped and brutalized, and though be bemoaned the cruelty he did nothing to curtail it.

There were sixty-thousand refugees pouring into the city. Joan was not playing at war. When she rose in the mornings, she put poultices on her chest, then went to her office after breaking her fast. There was much to do. She administered the city, attended councils of war, and advised the synod. In addition, she was still queen of Navarre, and was required to govern her own kingdom from afar.

In the afternoons, she often met with Beza to discuss matters of the church, or else with Conde, to discuss military matters. Joan worked on the city’s fortifications, and in the evenings she would ride out to observe them. Henry often joined her on these rides; he was learning the art of war, and he seemed to have a knack for it.

“A knack is not sufficient,” Joan told him. “Anyone can learn to fortify a port. I have learned, and I am a woman.”

“I know it is not sufficient,” the boy replied. “I must commit myself entirely to the cause of our people, and of Our Lord. Is that not what you were going to tell me?”   

“Ah, Henry, you know me too well. I am glad of it. I am glad to see you bear with strength the great and terrible charge which sits upon your shoulders.”

“How can I help being strong? I have you for a mother.”

At night, Joan fell into bed too exhausted for dreams.

*

Yet one night, she woke once again to find her chest loose and her breathing comfortable. She stood in a hallway which she recognized at once. She was at the Château de Fontainebleau, the place of her birth, just beyond the door to the king’s private chambers.

“Oh please, Francis, please. You cannot really mean to send him to the stake!” The voice on the other side of the door was female, and it did not belong to the queen.

A heavy sigh answered it. “I mean to do just that, ma mignonne. He is a damned heretic, and a rabble-rouser besides. Now, sister, don’t cry. If there’s one thing I cannot bear, it is your weeping.”

At those words, a surge of giddiness, like lightning, came over Joan’s whole body. It was her own mother speaking to the king. She was but a few steps away and they were separated only by a single wooden door.

“He is my friend, Francis. Do you say I should not weep for my friends?”

A loud harumph. “A strange thing, Margaret. Your own companions told me that you have never met the man.”

“Does such a triviality preclude friendship? He is my brother in Our Lord.”  

“And I am your true brother, and your king besides.”

“And as you are my brother—” here, Margaret’s voice cracked with overburdening emotion. She was crying again, Joan was certain. “As you are my brother, you must grant me this boon. Do not harm those I love, Francis.”

The king did not respond, so Joan drew nearer to the door. A minute later, she leapt backwards when it opened. There stood her mother, not old and sick as Joan had last seen her twenty years before, but younger even than Joan herself.

“If you’ve time to stand about listening at doors, then you are not otherwise employed,” Margaret said, wiping her tears from her face with the back of her hand. “I am going to visit a friend. You shall accompany me.”

Looking down at herself, Joan realized that her mother must have mistaken her for one of Fountainbleu’s many ladies-in-waiting. She was in her night clothes, which was really a simple day dress such as a woman might wear to a provincial market. Joan did not sleep in anything which would hinder her from acting immediately, should the city be attacked in the middle of the night. 

“As you wish, Majesty,” Joan replied with a curtsey. Margaret raised an eyebrow, and instantly Joan corrected herself: “Your Highness.”

Margaret stopped at her own rooms to wrap herself in a plain, hooded cloak. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Joan, your Highness.”

“Well, Joan. As penance for eavesdropping, you shall keep your own counsel with regards to our errand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Joan replied stiffly. Any fool could see what friend Margaret intended to visit, and Joan wished she could think of a way to cut through the pretense.

When Margaret arrived at the jail with Joan in tow, the warden greeted her almost like a friend. “You are here to see the heretic, Princess? Shall I fetch you a chair?”

“Yes, Phillip. And a lantern, if you would.”

The cell was nearly identical to the one which Joan had dreamed on the road to La Rochelle. Inside sat a man with sparse gray hair covering his chin. Margaret’s chair was placed just outside the cell, but she brushed past it. She handed the lantern to Joan and knelt down in the cell beside the prisoner.

“I was told that I had a secret friend in the court,” he said. “I see now that she is an angel.”

“No angel, monsieur Faber. I am Margaret, and this is my lady, Joan. I have come to see to your welfare, as best I am able.”

Now, Margaret’s hood fell back, and all at once she looked every inch the Princess of France. Yet her voice was small and choked when she said, “Will you do me the honor of praying with me?”

Margaret was already on her knees, but she lowered herself further. She rested one hand lightly on Faber’s knee, and after a moment, he took it. Her eyes fluttered closed. In the dim light, Joan thought she saw tears starting down her mother’s cheek.

When she woke in the morning, Joan could still remember her mother’s face. There were tears in her hazelnut eyes, and a weeping quiver in her voice.

*

Winter came, and Joan’s coughing grew worse. There was blood in it now, and occasionally bits of feathery flesh that got caught in her throat and made her gag. She hid it in her handkerchief.

“Winter battles are ugly,” Conde remarked one morning as Christmas was drawing near. “If the enemy is anything like gentlemen, they will not attack until spring. And yet, I think, we must stand at readiness.”

“By all means,” Joan replied. “Anything less than readiness would be negligence.”

Conde chuckled, not unkindly. “For all your strength and skill, madame, it is obvious that you were not bred for command. No force can be always at readiness. It would kill the men as surely as the sword. ‘Tis not negligence to celebrate the birth of Our Lord, for instance.”

Joan nodded curtly, but did not reply.

As the new year began, the city was increasingly on edge. There was frequent unrest among the refugees, and the soldiers Joan met when she rode the fortifications nearly always remarked that an attack would come soon.

Then, as February melted into March, word came from Admiral Coligny that his position along the Guirlande Stream had been compromised. The Catholic vanguard was swift approaching, and more Huguenot forces were needed. By the time word reached Joan in the form of a breathless young page outside her office, Conde was already assembling the cavalry. Joan made for the Navarre quarter at once, as fast as her lungs and her skirts would let her.

The battle was an unmitigated disaster. The Huguenots arrived late, and in insufficient numbers. Their horses were scattered and their infantry routed, and the bulk of their force was forced back to Cognac to regroup. As wounded came pouring in, Joan went to the surgical tents to make herself useful.

The commander La Noue’s left arm had been shattered and required amputation. Steeling herself, Joan thought of Margaret’s tearstained cheeks as she knelt beside Faber. “Commander La Noue,” she murmured, “Would it comfort you if I held your other hand?”

“That it would, Your Majesty,” the commander replied. So, as the surgeon brandished his saw, Joan gripped the commander’s hand tight and began to pray. She let go only once, to cover her mouth as she hacked blood into her palm. It blended in easily with the carnage of the field hospital.

Yet it was not till after the battle was over that Joan learned the worst of it. “His Grace, General Conde is dead,” her captain told her in her tent that evening. “He was unseated in the battle. They took him captive, and then they shot him. Unarmed and under guard! Why, as I speak these words, they are parading his corpse through the streets of Jarnac.”

“So much for chivalry,” murmured Joan, trying to ignore the memories of Conde’s pleasant face chuckling, calling her skilled and strong.

“We will need to find another Prince of the Blood to champion our cause,” her captain continued. “Else the army will crumble. If there’s to be any hope for Protestantism in France, we had better produce one with haste. Admiral Coligny will not serve. He’s tried to rally the men, to no avail. In fact, he has bid me request that you make an attempt on the morn.”

“Henry will lead.”

“Henry? Why, he’s only a boy!”

Joan shook her head. “He is nearly a man, Captain, and he’s a keen knack for military matters. He trained with Conde himself, and he saw to the fortification of La Rochelle at my side. He is strong, which matters most of all. If it’s a Prince of the Blood the army requires, Henry will serve.”

“As you say, Majesty,” said her captain with a bow. “But it’s not me you will have to convince.”

*

Joan settled in for a sleepless night. Her captain was correct that she would need to persuade the Huguenot forces well, if they were to swear themselves to Henry. So, she would speak. Joan would rally their courage, and then she would present them with her son and see if they would follow him.

Page after page she wrote, none of it any good. Eloquence alone would not suffice; Joan’s words had to burn in men’s chests. She needed such words as she had never spoken before, and she needed them by morning.  

By three o’clock, Joan’s pages were painted with blood. Her lungs were tearing themselves to shreds in her chest, and the proof was there on the paper beside all her insufficient words. She almost hated herself then. Now, when circumstance required of her greater strength than ever before, all Joan’s frame was weakness and frailty.

An hour later, she fell asleep.

When Joan’s eyes fluttered open, she knew at once where she was. Why, these were her own rooms at home in Navarre! Sunlight flooded through her own open windows and drew ladders of light across Joan’s very own floor. Her bed sat in the corner, curtains open. Her dressing room and closet were just there, and her own writing desk—

There was a figure at Joan’s writing desk. Margaret. She looked up.

“My Joan,” she said. It started as a sigh, but it turned into a sob by the end. “My very own Joan, all grown up. How tired you look.” 

The words seemed larger than themselves somehow. They were Truth and Beauty in capital letters, illuminated red and gold. Something in Joan’s chest seized; something other than her lungs. 

“How do you know me, mother?”

“How could I not? I have been parted from you of late, yet your face is more precious to me than all the kingdoms of the earth.”

“Oh.” And then, because she could not think of anything else to say, Joan asked, “What were you writing, before I came in?”’

“Poetry.” Joan made a noise in her throat. “You disapprove?” asked her mother.

“No, not at all. Would that I had time for such sweet pursuits. I have worn myself out this night writing a war speech. It cannot be poetry, mother. It must be wine. It must–” then, without preamble, Joan collapsed into a fit of coughing. At once, her mother was on her feet, handkerchief in hand. She pressed it to Joan’s mouth, all the while rubbing circles on her back as she coughed and gagged. When the handkerchief came away at last, it was stained red.

“What a courageous woman you are,” Margaret whispered into her hair. “Words like wine for the soldiers, and yourself spitting blood. Will you wear pearls or armor when you address them?”

“I will address them on horseback in the field,” answered Joan with a rasp. “I would have them see my strength.”

Her mother’s dark eyes flickered then. Margaret looked at her daughter, come miraculously home to her against the will of the king and the very flow of time itself. She was not a large woman, but she held herself well. She stood brave and tall, though no one had asked it of her. 

Her own dear daughter did not have time for poetry. Margaret regretted that small fact so much that it came welling up in her eyes.  “And what of your weakness, child? Will you let anyone see that?”

Joan reached out and caught her mother’s tears. Her fingertips were harder than Margaret’s were. They scratched across the sensitive skin below her eyes.

“Did I not meet you like this once before? You are the same Joan who came with me to the jail in Paris once. I did not know you then. I had not yet borne you.”

“Yes, the very same. We visited a Monsieur Faber, I believe. What became of that poor man?”

Margaret sighed. She crossed back over to the desk to fall back into her seat, and in a smaller voice she said, “My brother released him, for a time. And then, when I was next absent from Paris, he was arrested again and sent to the stake before I could return.”

“I saw you save another man, once. I do not know his name. How many prisoners did you save, mother?”

“Many. Not near enough. Not as many as those with whom I wept by lantern light.”

“Did the weeping do any good, I wonder.”

“Those who lived were saved by weeping. Those who died may have been comforted by it. It was the only thing I could give them, and so I must believe that Our Lord made good use of it.”

Joan shook her head. She almost wanted to cry too, then. The feeling surprised her. Joan detested crying.

“All those men freed from prison, yet you never came for me. Why?”

“Francis was determined. A choice between following Christ and keeping you near was no choice at all, though it broke my heart to make it.” 

If Joan shut her eyes, she could still remember the terror of the night she had rescued Henry. “You could have come with soldiers. You could have stolen me away in the night.” 

Margaret did not answer. The tears came faster now and her fair, queenly skin blossomed red. So many years would pass between the dear little girl she’d left in Paris and the stalwart woman now before her. She did not have time for poetry, but if Margaret had been allowed to keep her that would have been different. Joan should have had every poem under the sun. 

“Will you read it?” she asked, taking the parchment from her desk and pressing it into her daughter’s hands. “Will you grant me that boon?”

Slowly, almost numbly, Joan nodded. To Margaret’s surprise, she read aloud. 

“God has predestined His own

That they should be sons and heirs.

Drawn by gentle constraint

A zeal consuming is theirs.

They shall inherit the earth

Clad in justice and worth.”

“Clad in justice and worth,” she repeated, handing back the parchment. “It’s a good poem.”

“It isn’t finished,” replied her mother.

Joan laughed. “Neither is my speech. It must be almost morning now.”

As loving arms closed around her again, Joan wished to God that she could remain in Navarre with her mother. She knew that she and Margaret did not share a heart: her mother was tender like Joan could never be. Yet all the same, she wanted to believe that they had been forged by the same Christian hope and conviction. She wanted to believe that she, Joan, could free the prisoners too. 

She shut her eyes against her mother’s shoulder. When she opened them, she was back in her tent, with morning sun streaming in. 

*

She came before the army mounted on a horse with Henry beside her. Her words were like wine when she spoke. 

“When I, the queen, hope still, is it for you to fear? Because Conde is dead, is all therefore lost? Does our cause cease to be just and holy? No; God, who has already rescued you from perils innumerable, has raised up brothers-in-arms to succeed Conde.

Soldiers, I offer you everything in my power to bestow–my dominions, my treasures, my life, and that which is dearer to me than all, my son. I make here a solemn oath before you all, and you know me too well to doubt my word: I swear to defend to my last sigh the holy cause which now unites us, which is that of honor and truth.”

When she finished speaking, Joan coughed red into her hands. There was quiet for a long moment, and then a loud hurrah! went up along the lines. Joan looked out at the soldiers, and from the front she saw her mother standing there, with tears in her eyes. 

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.

summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?

How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—

Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.

Oh, right—the rumours.

Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.

And now, well, you're living it.

Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.

You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.

And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.

Something about...well—

"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.

"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."

He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.

That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.

There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"

"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."

There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.

The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."

You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.

The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.

The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.

"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."

Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.

"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."

Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.

"What else." He muttered against your mouth.

"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."

"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.

"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"

"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."

"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."

"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."

"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."

Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—

"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."

He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"

His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—

Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—

"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."

His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"

You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.

You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"

Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.

"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."

You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.

"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."

Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.

"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."

Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.

"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."

"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.

"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."

With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.

His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.

Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—

"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."

"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."

"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."

His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.

"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"

He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.

His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"

His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.

You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."

"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."

You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.

"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."

He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.

"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"

"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"

You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.

"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."

You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.

Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"

"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“

"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."

He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.

"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."

The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"

"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."

It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."

You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."

At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—

His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.

You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.

"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...

"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."

You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."

"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."

You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"

"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."

"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."

He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.

"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."

Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.

Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...

You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."

[lotusbloghub]

⛧ SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 ⛧

HELLO ALL! welcome to another year of selfshiptober. i've noticed this is pretty much the 'official' selfship tober event now, which honestly warms my heart! i love seeing what this wonderful community does with my prompts :)

this year, i'm doing things a little differently. EACH DAY HAS TWO PROMPTS ASSIGNED TO IT. the first set is SHIPPY, while the second set is SPOOKY. you may either COMBINE THE TWO PROMPTS TOGETHER or CHOOSE ONE OF THE PROMPTS. the spooky prompts are a bit on the grittier side and probably won't appeal to most, so if you'd like to only use the first set of prompts and completely ignore the second, be my guest! on the other hand, if you prefer the gritter prompts, you can only use the second set of prompts, you can do that too! if you want an extra challenge, you can create a piece that incorporates both of the day's prompts. you can also change your approach depending on how you feel that day!

there are no hard rules for this. YOU CAN START WORKING ON THIS CHALLENGE EARLY, but i encourage you to wait until october to post anything. YOU CAN ALSO CONTINUING WORKING ON IT AFTER OCTOBER ENDS! you can drag this shit out into december for all i care. just DON'T OVERWORK YOURSELF PLEASE.

without further ado, LET US PROCEED TO THE PROMPTS!

#1. confession  |  night.

#2. blanket  |  flame.

#3. embrace  |  blood.

#4. apple picking  |  fog.

#5. all dressed up  |  blade.

#6. carnival  |  haunted.

#7. rain  |  infection.

#8. swim  |  terror.

#9. music  |  masquerade.

#10. warmth  |  claws.

#11. comfort  |  recovery.

#12. married  |  ritual.

#13. party  |  magic.

#14. date night  |  vampire.

#15. games  |  hunt.

#16. candy  |  illusion.

#17. heart  |  feast.

#18. pining  |  violent.

#19. shared hobby  |  potion.

#20. trust  |  experiment.

#21. snuggle  |  nightmare.

#22. kiss  |  scars.

#23. movie night  |  slasher.

#24. baking  |  empty.

#25. rest  |  bandages.

#26. beautiful  |  grotesque.

#27. decorations  |  cemetery.

#28. brush  |  forest.

#29. pumpkin  |  lantern.

#30. flowers  |  snow.

#31. halloween  |  death.

TAG YOUR CREATIONS AS #SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 AND TAG ME IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO SEE! i cannot guarantee interaction as i struggle socially, but i promise i'll look at everything! HAPPY CREATING ♡

[smutoperator]

A Horny Hostage

Lalisa Manoban (Lisa) x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 1

Main kinks: kidnapping, golden shower, interracial (BWC), car sex

Word count: 3239.

New York City, United States, October 15th, 2024

What a day it has been for Lisa. Never in her wildest dreams when she started her idol career, she thought she would become a Victoria's Secret angel. She was as happy as ever.

"Come here, let's take some pictures," a photographer oriented her, bringing Lisa close to a van with its right side door open, where you took some pics of her, with her liking the best the one where she flaunts her cute ass.

"Good, let's take some more pics," you say to her after she looks at the ones captured in your camera and approves them. However, all that was just a trap to lure the (not so) innocent Thai girl into your plan.

A pair of masked dudes emerges from the side and shoves Lisa inside the van; you follow them, getting yourself on the backseat of the van while your two partners drive it away from the show. The newly crowned Victoria's Secret Angel is now just a hostage.

Lisa panics a bit; she screams for help at first, but no help is about to come. "So, let's blackmail her billionaire boyfriend into dropping some good money for the new woman we got with us," you say to your partners in crime. Despite the crowded traffic of New York City, your van quickly passes through Brooklyn, then Queens, and soon reaches the wilderness of Long Island.

Lisa is tied up, but you slowly calm her down. "We are going to free you in exchange for some favors," you tell her. "What kind of favors?" she asks. "You'll find out soon," it's all you can say for now.

You untie Lisa and start touching her body parts. Her long legs, her dark hair, and then hovers your hands around her pussy. "Careful, boy, you're looking for something that you can't handle," Lisa says to you. But you quickly shut her down. "I'm pretty sure I can handle you fairly easily; if your ugly ass boyfriend can do that and all he's got is money, I can do it too," you tell her.

"So you think you can handle this?" Lisa says, flaunting her ass for you. That arrogant brat is starting to get on your nerves. You then play with the dark wings from her outfit, which were stored inside the fan as well. "Fallen angel, I want to see you turning into a wild devil," you tell her. "If you say so, then I'll show you something," Lisa says.

"Then show me what kind of badass you are," you tell her, reaching with your hands to touch her pussy. "You have a nice pussy out there, you tell her, taking off the bottom parties of her outfit and leaving just her panties on. "Those bare legs are so sexy," you say, running your hands over them. "Take it off; I want to see you with just a bra and panties, the way I bet your boyfriend does every day," you tell Lisa, who obliges and takes the piece of fabric covering her bra.

"You really like to flaunt how much of a hottie you are since leaving idol life," you say to Lisa. "Well, if you let me, I'll do it even more," Lisa says, reaching towards your crotch and noticing your cock is already throbbing for her and ready to burst off those pants. But you slow her down, grabbing her neck and kissing her. "You're a bad bitch, aren't you?" you ask her.

"You're hot as fuck; now come suck my cock," you tell Lisa, unzipping your pants and showing off that big white cock to her. "Bet it's much bigger than your boyfriend's," you tell her. Lisa strokes it, then bends over to get a taste of your cock, allowing you to see her great ass from above as her sexy mouth gets it wet.

"Hmmmm, it tastes so good," Lisa says. "Fuck yeah, it does," you reply, letting her take the initiative and blow that pipe off while you caress her ass. You push your balls closer to her mouth, challenging her as she deepthroats you. But you quickly put a halt to her fun, pulling her top down and sucking her little tits.

"Hmmm, you like my cute little boobies," Lalisa says to you. "Yes, they are cute, but your mouth full of my cock is hotter," you say, dunking her head against your massive shaft and making her take it. "Fuck, that booty is so hot; I didn't know Asian girls could be so thicc at the bottom," you compliment her ass. "Well, it's definitely good; I bet you want to put that big fat cock in it later," she says.

"Give those fucking balls some love too," you tell Lisa, letting her lick it. But what she likes the most about sucking cock is the ability to deepthroat it, so Lisa just gets back up and takes your whole shaft in her mouth shortly after.

"Ohhhh shit, you suck my cock so good," you say to Lisa. "It's because it's so big and perfect for my little mouth," she answers as you just let her take it and give her butt a little spanking. "Now I want you to lick it like ice cream," you say to Lisa.

Lisa obliges and licks that shaft like the good whore she is. "Perfect, keep licking it and look at me when you do it," you tell her as she giggles. "Come on, show me you're a bad bitch; it's just you and me in the back seat of this car," you continue.

You pull Lisa's panties down, giving her sexy ass a few spankings. "Get them all the way down; I'll keep them as a souvernir," you say to her. "Now get on the floor and spread those legs," you give her another command.

You reach your hands and start toying with Lisa's fuckholes. Her pussy gets some fingering while your thumb goes straight into her butthole. You enjoy watching her moans just get muffled by your massive cock stretching her mouth.

"Perfect cocksucker, let me reward you for that," you say to her. "OUCH FUCK YES," Lisa screams as you start repeatedly hitting her ass hard. "Good girl," you say after, patting her head too and pushing it deeper down your shaft.

"You want that dick in your Thai pussy?" you ask Lisa. "Of course I do," she answers. "Then let's go for a ride," you say. "Bro, she is indeed the bad bitch you claimed; I'm jealous," the guy driving the van says, sliding the window down to check it a bit.

"Let's go, baby," Lisa says as she gets your cock wet with a few more suckings. You take her top off and then finally manage to grab her panties as a souvenir like you wanted, pulling it down once again and this time for good. Lisa is now butt naked as she prepares to sit her cunt on your cock.

"OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Lisa gets surprised by the size of your big white manhood in her pussy. Even her boyfriend's can't match. As a big white cock whore, she's truly having the time of her life. You make sure to use your hands to reach and push your shaft as deep as you can in her cunt. "OH MY GODDDD, UHHHHH," she moans as your tip is already reaching her cervix, the 10 inches of your massive pale pole stratching her out and bulging under Lalisa's long torso.

Lisa tries to bounce on your big cock, but her fun is short-lived. As soon as you get fully inside her, you start pumping it upwards. "UHHHH, UHHHHH," she says, getting caught off guard by your thrusts. "OH FUCK ME," she moans as you grab her butt and take full control of her body, your hips clapping fast against her cheeks as you destroy her cunt.

"UHHHHHH, UHHHHH, UHHHHH," Lisa keeps moaning as your cock attacks her pussy relentlessly, her body swinging as the car makes a sharp turn. "OHHHHHH MY GODDDD, JUST LIKE THAT, YEAHHHH," she screams with no fear of getting heard by anyone besides your crew. She clings to any support she can find in the van, as you only increase the pace of your pumps.

You thurst so hard against Lisa's Thai pussy that her pink anus is already winking. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, USE ME," Lisa begs. And indeed, you won't stop, moving Lisa's body to the side and keep pumping her pussy hard, treating her like the fucktoy her boyfriend had too much respect for to use her like that, unlike you, who has none for this whore.

"FUCKKKKKK," Lisa keeps screaming, her voice cracking at all points. She probably used it more already by moaning like a bitch than in any of her performances as a soloist. "Oh, it's so good; oh, it's so fucking good; keeps using that pussy; oh my GODDDDDDD," she moans. "Uh uh, uh uh, uh uh," she moans as even her little tits are managing to bounce, given the intensity of your thrusts against her.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, SPANK MY ASS," Lisa says as you add extra hit to her already intense punishment, slapping her butt nonstop without losing any speed as you continue to fuck her pussy like a madman. "Come closer," you tell Lisa, who is so numb already she doesn't even notice the roof of the van, hitting her head against it.

"That's so good, so good, so good," Lisa repeats as you push her skinny body close to yours. Lisa stares at the window, the cary flying fast towards the roads of Long Island while your cock does your work in her cunt. Her spatial awareness is completely gone as her head keeps hitting the roof, and your cock hitting her cervix at all moments doesn't help.

"OHHHHHH GODDDDDDD," Lisa screams as she clings onto you, barely avoiding a hit against the glass as you keep attacking her pussy. A police helicopter flies close to your car, making you wonder if they are coming to rescue her. But you just don't care; her pussy is too good and worth getting arrested for.

You finally come to a stop, giving a little tap on Lisa's ass. "Good girl," you praise her abilities to take your white cock in such a confined space. But that's no surprise, given her flexibility acquired from years of dancing. You give her pussy a few extra pumps. "Oh my God, you fuck me so good, ah, ah, ah ah, ah," Lisa moans as your balls hit all the way up to her winking butthole.

Lisa climbs out of your cock, moving cautiously to avoid hitting the roof. She twists sideways and tells you to put your cock back in her pussy, starting a reverse cowgirl ride where the guys driving the fan will have a privileged and distracting view of her hot body bouncing on your cock.

Well, so she thought. You aren't keen on changing your ways, pumping your cock once again hard against her pussy. "OH MY GOD, PLEASE," Lisa begs, trying not to fall down as your cock pumps deep inside her. She opens her legs and moves them around, trying to get better support, but you just don't stop, grabbing her thigh and continuing to thrust like a madman. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO GOOD," Lisa moans as your balls hit right at her clit.

You fuck Lisa so fast her head now uncontrollably hits the roof of the car. You lean her body against yours, pumping her pussy at a pearly gates position, her Thai pussy just getting used by your big white cock. "FUCKKKKK, AHHHHHH, YOUR COCK IS SO GOOD," Lisa screams, getting out of breath as you just can't stop leveling her cunt. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Lisa says as your cock hits her cervix constantly, you push her up, and her head hammers the roof once again.

You pull out of Lisa and pick up one of the folded seats of the van, pushing it back up. Lisa sits on it and spreads her long legs. You dive to eat the pussy you just obliterated for long minutes, licking her wet and used-up folds. "Looks like my big cock wrecked it good," you say to her.

"And I want it to wreck it again, uhhhh, ahhhhh," she tells you, interrupting herself with moans as your licking is too good for her to resist. You don't need much to put her on the verge of orgasm, as her pussy is already throbbing after so much pounding, and soon Lisa's long legs start shaking.

"Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ohhh yeah, eat my pussy good" she moans as you tongue her folds. You kiss Lisa's pussy and move into thumbing her anus. "Hmmm, it's so tight, I wonder if my cock can fit in it," you say. "I guess you should try it, baby," she replies.

But first, you have to get your cock a bit slicker to slide on Lisa's sexy ass, giving a few pumps to her pussy instead as her wet folds lube up your shaft. You grab Lisa's leg and fuck her sideways, pinning her against the seat of the van. "Oh my God, oh my God, ahhhhh," Lisa moans.

You finally switch to fuck Lisa's ass, but your cock is so massive you struggle to get in at first. Lisa gasps with just your tip inside. "It's too fucking big for my tiny little ass," she moans. "Well, let's see," you reply.

You thrust your cock against Lisa's ass, her now coping with her butthole getting stretched out by fingering herself. "FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH," she moans. "God damn it, why do you have to be so big?" she asks as your cock digs deeper and deeper.

"Keep going; I need you all the way deep in my fucking ass, uh huh, uh huh," Lisa says as your cock slowly disappears inside it. You twist your fingers inside Lisa's pussy while your cock stays buried inside her asshole, making her scream even further. From time to time, you switch to her pussy to get some extra lube from her juices onto your cock.

Lisa's legs are so long the fingers in her right foot are now what's hitting the roof of the car while you keep fucking her ass. She opens her legs further, hitting the glass that separates the backseat of the van from the cabin. "DON'T STOP FUCKING MY ASS, PLEASE," she begs.

And who said you ever planned to stop? You push the pace and the depth of your cock inside her butt, rubbing your hands against Lisa's little tits as well while she moans like a good slut. You started choking her. "I love that baby, getting shocked while you fuck me in the ass; keep going," she says.

"Come here, let's try a different position, get on your knees, slut," you say to Lisa, who follows your orders, getting herself on all fours and clinging to the backseat of the van as you stay fucking her ass this time from behind. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH, OH YEAH, FUCK FUCK FUCK," she moans hard as your cock stretches her tight butthole out while your big hands reach to keep choking her.

"What the FUCK FUCK FUCK," Lisa says as you suddenly change the pace, grabbing her waist and giving her ass fast and hard poundings. "Fuck, I love stretching your tiny little ass, Lisa; your cute, sexy butt looks so good with my cock deep inside it," you say to her.

You stay grabbing Lisa's waist, not letting her get out of your grasp at any second as you fuck her ass. "YEAH FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH, OH MY GOD," she moans. You grab her arms from behind and thrust hard up her butt, using the motion of the van in your favor. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO GOOD IN MY ASS," she says.

"Spread those legs wide," you command to Lisa, enjoying the way your cock just disappears inside her tight butthole. You then slide Lisa's body on the car's floor. "Wow," she says, as you get ready to get on top of her and pound her tasty ass even harder.

"Get that ass all the way up," you tell Lisa, who obliges, gaping her tight butthole as you slide inside it at a prone bone position. Lisa spreads her ass, trying to ease off the pressure of her tight hole, but it's to no avail; you just pound her relentlessly. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, OHHHHH, IT'S SO GOOOD," Lisa moans as you stretch her tight asshole hard, hitting her in the face and mounting on top of her like a raging bull, your hips clapping hard against her cheeks.

"OHHH, DON'T STOP BABY," Lisa begs as you impose on her a hard anal destruction; her body shakes with the insensity of your fucking. Your big white cock sends her to the heavens in a way her boyfriend's never could. She moans like a good whore, pleading to God. 

"Are you ready for that cum?" you ask her. "OH YEAH, BABY, I'M MORE THAN READY, OHHHHHHH," Lisa answers as you grab her waist and push your cock deeper and deeper in her ass. "Shit, Lalisa, your butthole is too tight; you're going to make me cum at any second," you say to her, clapping her cheeks hard.

"FUCK YEAH, GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE ME THAT CUM," Lisa begs. "Then come here, get that ass up," you tell her, pulling out of Lisa and jerking your cock off until your seeds coat her sexy butt. You pick your phone up and take a picture of Lisa's cum-covered ass, giving it a little taps aftwards. " "Send it to Fred," you tell her.

Lisa messages her boyfriend as you stay starting at her butt and appreciating your white sperm all over it. You enjoy looking at her body, but one of the guys on the cabin suddenly interrupts you.

"Bro, we need to pee," he tells you.

"Alright, let's find someplace," you say to him.

"We are too far from the city; we'll need to pee at those woods," he replies.

"Wait, I think I have a better plan; stop the van," you answer him.

You slide the van's door open and bring a completely naked Lisa to the outside. It's freezing cold out there, but your cock is still throbbing. "Guys, I think I found the perfect place for us to pee," you tell them.

The three big white cocks start bursting hot piss all over Lisa's sexy body. To their surprise, she fully embraces it, opening her mouth when the pee gets close to it and loving the way you guys turn her into a walking urinal and cover her entire body full of that dirty liquid.

"Wow, that's so hot," Lisa says after you three finish pissing on her.

"Glad you liked," you say to her.

"Bro, looks like Fred paid the rescue money; should we just leave her there and tell him the location?" one dude asks.

You look at an abandoned cabin hidden in the woods and sense Lisa is still horny and wants more.

"I think we can wait until dawn; let's fuck that bitch airtight at the cabin first," you say.

"Done deal."

[ursie]

Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

[redbootsthetimetraveller]

Anybplan to join art fight this year?

no, unfortunately. whilst it does seem like a LOT of fun, and watching other people participate is really interesting, july always ends up being a time where I'm either resting and doing personal art after doing a lot of required art for class, or it's when semester starts. not helped by the fact I ALWAYS get a chest infection in july because my lungs hate the cold lmao! so yeah I don't think I will, at least not this year

[masochistkatsuki]

Team Player - Sticky Situation

Pt 2 ← Pt 3 → Masterlist

Without a doubt, Sero was your second best friend. It used to be Katsuki, but after a stunt surrounding him in your second year, you ironically ended up becoming closer to Hanta instead.

This also happened to be the first night you and Sero started your ongoing 'game.' Sero wasn't going to be an issue in this challenge, the tension has been waiting to be released anyway.

Throughout the night, you heard a lot of, in the lightest way possible, obscene noises. In the morning, no one but you, Mina, and Kirishima knew what they were, or that theyd even happened. It turns out, when you're crazy fucking drunk, you usually end up passing out as soon as you reach a mattress.

While everyone was asleep, Eijirou learnt hands on how to fuck, then immediately went on to deploy those skills. He really didn't waste time. But to be fair, that is what you were betting on.

Jirou and Katsuki had morning shifts, and were thankfully stable enough to leave the house after some care from you. Youd originally brought all the pain meds for yourself, but of course you'll help friends in need no matter what.

Katsuki had a scraped knuckle, when he got up to leave, he was hoping you wouldn't notice. Of course, unfortunately for him, it was the first thing you noticed and quickly stopped him. "Hey !! Thats totally going to get infected if it's not taken care of, are you crazy ?"

He stopped and scowled. Even if you weren't as close in your first year and part of the second, you two were still very perceptive and understanding of what the other had going on. "Piss off, I'm going back to my place and I'll figure it out." He went to leave, but -

"Oh no you don't, Katsuki." You knew hed just shower, pick any extra skin or scabs off, then go to work. "Shower here real quick, then im going to fix that for you." He groaned. You acted like such a mom sometimes.

After a bunch of bickering, light punches and explosions to each other, Katsuki left just 20 minutes before Kirishima and Mina left on their own. What they were probably off and doing doesn't really need to be fully described.. You can definitely guess. As for Kaminari, he was trying to crash and play xbox on Sero's couch, but he ended up getting kicked out immediately.

By 8 am, everyone was out of the house but you and Sero. "Oh um.." You awkwardly looked around. "Should I go too ?" Maybe you shouldve reconsidered how easy Sero would be, this was way more nerve wracking than you'd thought.

Was it ? Or we're you just preparing for the inevitable interrogation.. one youve been slacking off on, you still knew barely nothing about your .. more difficult friends.

"So.. Wanna explain what you and Mina are doing this time ?" He grinned down at you, head resting on his palm. He sat at the kitchen table, clearly intending for you to sit down.

You looked around, as if checking no one was there even though everyone had definitely left. A sigh escaped your lips, and you eventually sat down. Hopefully Mina would understand, but there was just no keeping anything from Sero.

You two had been some of the closest friends since October of your second year. Since the Bakusquad threw that Halloween get-together with them and a few select other friends. From then on out, if you weren't with Mina, you were with Sero.

It started when, stupidly, enough, you fell for Katsuki. It was pitiful, really. You only told Sero, not even Mina. Truthfully, you'd liked him since your first year. Kirishima was hot, but really just a coverup so you wouldn't have to be embarrassed about liking someone who obviously didn't like you. Mina had a special place in your heart, but she had a habit of playing cupid when not needed. You knew the only way she wouldn't intervene was if you mentioned someone she secretly liked.

But, as we all know, Bakugou wasn't easy to like. It was a difficult task feeling so strongly about him in private. Throughout your whole first year, he was snappy and rude, often trying to turn your positivity into pessimism. Though he grew a lot, and protected you many times, and helped you train and gave you honest points and dare you say compliments ? You knew he cared, he just didn't show it that well at first. But any deeper emotional stuff just wasn't an option, and you understood that.

In your second year, he was much softer around the edges. He was still the same smart ass, and egotistical explosive teen, but there was a sense of self awareness and restraint to it. He started learning how to dial it back when possible, but his temper remained when pushed or with people he didnt know. Even so, you continued to admire his effort.

And still, your feelings so stupidly remained. Even when he pushed you away, or acted like he didn't know you, you just couldn't dial it back. So, in a cliche highschool move, you plotted to make him jealous.

In hindsight, its just a funny story to laugh about with Sero, an inside joke if anything. But in the moment, it felt like a whole secret operation. As if this was what all your training was meant for !

At the get together, you wore the cutest but most tempting, tight black dress. It hugged you perfectly, and was accompanied by soft squeezing thigh highs, striped orange and black, like a classic witch. Anyone with eyes was looking at you atleast twice.

You and Sero agreed to hang out the night, and after a few drinks, when you were sure Katsuki was looking, get up all close and flirty. It seemed simple enough, up until then, you hadn't felt that much attraction to him. You only had to fake it for a few hours.

But in a twisted turn of luck, the very same night you specifically were meant to feign attraction, you suddenly, and genuinely felt it. Who knew Sero Hanta could look this fucking good ? Obviously he was hot, lanky, muscular, a damn future Pro ! But youd always just seen him as your fortnite duo or the guy who always arrived everywhere in baggy t-shirts and basketball shorts.

So why the fuck was he suddenly showing off now ? His hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail, spare strands framing his face angelically. He had a black compression shirt on, purposely displaying how hard his chest and abs were. To top it off, he had the iconic grey sweats, hanging off his hips slightly, showing off his v line and happy trail. Holy shit. Hanta Sero is so fucking hot.

Maybe it was apart of the plan, maybe it wasnt, but you and Sero stayed together the whole night. According to Mina, you looked 'real good together'. Coincidentally, you two happened to be getting real close and flirty anyway.

It started with you feeding each other shots. It was easier for Sero, as he was a good amount taller than you. His hands, bigger and stronger, though it made sense with his quirk, traced over your jaw, before he tilted your chin up and poured a shot of vodka down your throat. Fuck, this was way more intimate than you expected it to be. The burn in your inner thighs only felt lighter when you drank down the hard liquid.

Mistakenly, you thought that it couldn't get more sensual than that, right ? Of course, you were wrong. In the process of figuring out how you'd get your shot down Sero's mouth, he got onto his knees in front of you. Holy fuck.

Your hand subconsciously held his cheek, holding his face up to yours. His head was resting against your midriff, while his arms wrapped around your waist. He looked way too pathetic like this for his own good. "I have a better idea, Hanta." Little did you know, Katsuki did notice the encounter, and you leaving with Sero right after. His knuckle was white with his grip against the telltale red solo cup, but no one seemed to notice as he said nothing.

In your dorm, meticulously decorated to your interests and hobbies, you laid yourself down on your bed. Hanta stood above you, arm covering his mouth as a blush crept through. Whatever you had in mind, it was instantly going to his lower regions, the outline of his dick heavy in his sweats. "Im on board."

You laughed, taking in how usually calm and cool Sero was frantically looking around in intervals after staring at your laid out body. "I havent even told you what I was thinki-"

He rested his head against your stomach again, hands comfortably grabbing at your thighs and hips. "I want to do it." He hummed against your tummy, slightly blowing into it, forcing a laugh out of you. Well, it wasnt like you didnt want to do it, for fucks sake, it was your idea. You figured, Katsuki was never looking at you anyway, you might as well have fun with someone who did.

That's how you ended up letting Sero strip your tiny black dress off you, leaving yourself exposed on your bed, dressed only in a matching black lingerie set, (a cute outfit always needs cuter underwear !) and your Halloween thigh highs. Hanta couldnt have looked happier.

You took out your handle of Vodka, and poured a stripe down from in-between your boobs, to your pantyline. You looked up at Sero, who was watching from above, his palm flat against his bulge. "Heres your shot, Hanta."

So yea, you were supposed to make Katsuki jealous, but the way Sero slid his tongue underneath your panties slightly before going back up, dragging it slowly across your abdomen, tracing the muscle against your underboob, before finishing the shot at your sternum, sucking right as he released his mouth from your body felt like too much. But it was apart the plan ! For the greater purpose ! .. Huh, where have I heard that before ?

So, how, were you supposed to not tell Sero the truth ? The tension never ended between you two, and he was looking at you like he was about to eat you whole. You finally had a reason to fuck Sero without seeming weak for dick. It was time to use it.

After explaining the whole situation to Sero, he just seemed to smirk wider. "Well that explains a lot. Like all the heinous sounds. You guys always forget how thin my walls are."

You choked on the off brand fruity pebbles he served you a moment ago-- he heard ?! "Excuse you ?" You looked at him suspiciously. He should've been passed out.

"Im a heavy weight but a light sleeper. Besides, I stayed somewhat sober because I was trying to figure out why Bakugou and Kirishima were Fighting" He crossed his arms, bulky elbows shamelessly knocking against the table.

"Okay, okay. I got it- Hold on, Fighting ?" You looked at him confused. When the fuck did Kirishima and Bakugou get into a fight ? While you were genuinely concerned, he just laughed.

"Sorry, I mean I know now they weren't, but cmon, last night everyone thought they were fighting with each other." His eyes closed cheekily while his grin remained.

You just picked your jaw back off the floor and kept searching for answers. "What ?? Why ??" You were wracking your brain for everything Katsuki did this week, and if hed mentioned anything about Ei. Nothing.

"Well, for starters, Kirishima's girl was hanging out with Katsuki the whole time. But for the first time ever, you and Bakubro weren't hip to hip. Hes always seeking you out, especially when hes drunk. The fact he was with someone else and letting Kirishima be all buddy with you was definitely something." He continued to mindlessly eat his cereal like he just said nothing.

You looked around awkwardly, choosing to freak out over that later. As much as you wanted to gush and talk about Katsuki, it wasn't really easy to just talk about other guys after telling one you essentially needed to have sex with him. Fuck. You two were clearly both thinking the same thing, but who was going to break first ? Just as you began to mentally complain about his stubbornness..

"Hey, so.." He began mimicking you, eyes looking at your spoon, the ceiling, out the window, but never at you.. "I um..." The tips of his ears began fading into a strawberry red. It was really odd to see him so nervous.

"What is it, Hanta ?" You rested a hand on his forearm, hoping to remind him you wouldn't bite. As much as you loved whiney and whimper-y guys, you needed him to communicate.

"I have an idea this time."

So, for the greater good, (of getting Kirishima and Mina to fuck) for everyone's sake, (hold on I thought they just fucked ?) you ended up in nothing but your panties, and taped over Sero's couch. (i dont think this one was necessary ..?) Oh. So that's why he kicked Denki out so quick. "Just how long have you been wanting to do this ?"

He grinned wide, like he'd been asking himself that too. "Since you kicked my ass in the Sports Festival." You audibly gasped. It clicked for you just in that second-, in your first year, you ended up winning by capturing Sero, his legs tight together between your thighs, and one wrist caught in each hand. With the way his arms were still spread out, some of the guys still made fun of him for getting 'crucified."

Your own position, now three years later, was mirroring just that. Your thighs were taped together, and your ankles were adorned with additional tape securing you midair. Your arms were spread out slightly above your head, wrists bound and held up in the air. Underneath your lower back, hips, head, and neck, he provided soft pillows to keep you from hurting. It was surprisingly comfy.

He stood before you, hands on his hips, admiring his work. His eyes carefully scanned over you, and down your body. You noticed he especially was paying attention to the way your thighs squished together due to the bondage. "This looks way better than I could've ever imagined."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the slight mustache he'd been growing out. "Yea im sure." Your eyes bore into his, trying not to let the real pathetic position you were in get to his ego. "Look, I let you tie me up, so I want a favor."

He smirked at you, and leaned over. His face was close to yours, he smelt like light cologne and sugar. His lips were just a breath away from yours, and as he spoke, "Anything for you." They trembled against you, just barely touching.

You hummed happily, carding your digits through his inky black strands. It was often something he let you do when you were in need of calming down. "So you know the whole operation, but I barely know anything about the last three people." Truly unfair, you needed to make things even and quick.

His eyes trailed to the top right corner of his vision. He thought for a few seconds before his eyes lit up. "I understand now," His eyes looked back into yours before his concentrated face grinned again, "I think I know exactly what you're looking for." Before continuing, he gave you a quick wink.

His hand now gripped your hip, his usual basketball shorts slid down. He rubbed his length through the thin fabric of his boxers with his other hand, growing greatly to its full size. The hand on your hips traveled to your now exposed clit, tracing random letters and shapes against it.

You whined out his name, thighs struggling against the binds, squeezing together in the process. He moved his hands so his middle and ring were fucking lightly into your cunt.

With how close everything was, you felt distinctly how your natural wet excretion covered and slid over your inner thighs. "Perfect.." He breathed, tongue teasing the side of your neck.

He readjusted his hips over yours, and pulled his boxers down before inserting himself between your wet thighs. The tape and his hand held you together, making the perfect slight gap right against your pussy and firm thighs for him.

He began pistoning himself through and out the gap, breath heavy against your chest. He began slow, but it was clear he was trying to hold back.

You smiled softly, wishing you were rubbing your hands up the wide expanse of his back how you would during make out sessions. "You wanna go faster, Sero?" He sighed, slowing his shaky pace again from where it began to gradually speed up unconsciously. He totally forgot to ask.

"Yes.. Please." He rubbed a hand up your midriff, relishing in how soft your bare body was. His hand stopped at your breasts before he began his part of the deal. "Jirou likes it when her hair is tugged or messed with. If you.." His pace quickened, letting himself enjoy the feeling while helping you, "If you keep making eye contact and playing with her hair, she'll be on you by the end of the night."

You tensed the muscles in your thighs, catching his tip. "And how do you know that, Sero ?" You wanted to touch his hair as he mentioned, but your suspended arms weren't moving anytime soon. Fuck, this was getting annoying.

"Because every time Momo does it." As if reading your mind, the hand just under your boobs palmed at your nipples briefly before resting in your hair, scratching at your scalp, "She runs back to her dorm to touch herself."

You held back a gulp-- How did sero know that ?? The girls group chat was the only place Jirou ever mentioned it, he shouldn't have known. "Oh wow, does she really do that ?" You batted your eyelashes at him, trying to get more information and distract him from the fact you actually already knew that secret. He knew a lot more than youd originally thought.

He smirked, hand going back to pinch at your side boob. Even though his actions seemed steady, his breath was rapid and his hips were starting to shake. "Im.. Im getting close.."

You forced your face to remain soft. In reality, you felt smug and slowly accomplished. Though Sero proved to have his own difficulties, you were getting closer and closer yourself, to the goal. "That's okay, just keep telling me about them. Only two more people left, Hanta."

"Kaminari is.." He tried thinking, but only sighed. "Sorry mentioning him turns me off." You just laughed, and waved your hand as much as you could from its tied place in the air.

"It's him, don't worry, it won't be a challenge.." You looked around quickly. He wasnt softening, but you didnt want the mood to be ruined. At the same time, you desperately needed information on Katsuki. "How about this.."

It took a minute to convince him that undoing the tape around your thighs was a good idea, but as soon as you reminded him that you two would actually end up fucking, he gave in.

He was now caged between your hips and still bound ankles, his tip pressed against your inner lips. "Hanta, do you have a condom ?"

His eyes widened. "Oh ! Yea, I found one in one of my guest rooms. I think Mina was sleeping in there." He winked knowingly. Damn, as thankful as you were, you were a little embarrassed about her premonition and his good observation skills.

"Good.. Then.. Ill let come inside, you just need to fuck me good and tell me how I can do the same to Katsuki." Your eyes locked on his, and you used the freedom now granted with your legs to move your thighs around his waist, lower legs still stuck together in the air.

He groaned, quickly ripping the packaging with his teeth and pulling it on. The entirety of your round wasn't really that long, but the years of teasing had built up so much, just the slightest touches felt like too much to Hanta. "So hes really private.. not even Kaminari knows all that much, but.."

His rubbery tip slipped through your soft entrance, the wetness hed been keeping going only helping you suck his whole size in relatively quick. Not to mention, he was noticeably smaller than Kirishima, making what would usually be a harsh fit much less painful. "Cmon, Sero, you can tell me." You made your voice more sultry, making up for the lack of touch you could provide with your hands.

"We know hes definitely a virgin." You gasped, half from the way his tip got caught on your gspot for a moment before pushing further, half because that made him the last virgin in your friend group.

During your second year, class 2-A and 2-B went through a virginity loss craze, a lot of people doing it with friends just to say they lost it. Most of it was just awkward quick stuff, and it ended up with almost everyone staying inexperienced and shy, like Kirishima. "Really ?" You pushed your hips up into his, trying to keep some composure. It was still interesting Katsuki never did anything, by that point he was an in-school celebrity.

A deeper groan reverberated in his chest, steadily getting a good pace to fuck in and out at. "Hes a lot more sensitive and emotional than people think." He kept gradually getting faster, pressing against your gspot faster and faster every time. "He usually responds with anger as a default feeling, but if he trusts you already and you come onto him strong and clearly enough again and again no matter how much he snaps, you'll have him."

By the time he was done explaining, you were both close and whining into each other's neck. He was practically laying on top of you, his messy black hair covering your vision. He was moaning now, "Can I finally cum, please ? I told you everything I know.." His hands were scratching slightly at your thighs, composure slipping away faster than he could catch it.

You rarely felt this weak, but for some odd reason, you hoped to god for any reason but the fact you finally knew more about Katsuki, and the honestly hot fact he was a Virgin. Before you knew it, you were crying out, "Yes, now, Hanta" while your thighs and walls closed in on him. Your previously sore hips were shaking, getting more action in two days then they had since this school year started.

He bit into your neck, muffling a girlish moan from him as a warm release spilt into his (Minas) condom. His hips kept lightly thrusting before completely stopping. He was still dumbly panting and whining a little, sounds gradually getting quieter as he calmed down.

"That.." He took a deep breath in before it stuttered out. "That was so fucking good." His eyes locked into yours, face still dangerously close. "Remind me to thank Mina later."

a/n : i think this one flowed a lot more naturally than kirishimas, but it took me a bit longer. hope its good !! tried adding more katsuki implications but i didn't want it to escalate too fast yet

taglist : @hyunjinshairband7 @icarusthefoolish @adv3rs1ty @waterfal-ling @hon3y-13mOn05 @sugerglidder @scr4luv @hauntedstudentobservationus @pinkpantheris @yogupink @cupkiki @fwskullz @katsukiswife @flavouredair @wOnd3rxoxo @slytherinpenguin12 (crossed out names are not working !)

[javiscigarette]

Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

my masterlist

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.  "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement. 

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise. 

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. 

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are  just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout. 

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls.  scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper. 

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat. 

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs. 

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache. 

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality. 

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air. 

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh. 

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile. 

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.” 

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point. 

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?” 

“I don’t- oh…” 

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins. 

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?” 

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it. 

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil. 

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface. 

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet. 

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea. 

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention. 

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya” 

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk. 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass. 

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.” 

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex. 

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey. 

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake. 

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls. 

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.” 

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense. 

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.” 

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch. 

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins. 

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?” 

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree. 

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze. 

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!” 

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so. 

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back. 

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows. 

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

[sgtpeppers]

That was... wonderful... to just hear it done for real, after... what? Four years of thinking about it? Wondering whether it would work, wondering if I'd written bits too fast, or too slow, or... to actually sort of... hear it done by real, professional people and the singers. It's... there isn't a word for it, actually.

Standing Stone, by Paul McCartney

Royal Albert Hall Performance (x)

Making Of Documentary (x)

Standing Stone is a 74 minute long classical piece of music, which Paul worked on for four years. It premiered at the Royal Albert Hall on 14 October 1997 with the London Symphony Orchestra and London Symphony Chorus, conducted by Lawrence Foster.

After his success with his first classical piece, The Liverpool Oratorio, Paul was commissioned to create some music to celebrate EMI's centenary. He came up with the idea of exploring "the way a Celtic man might have wondered about the origins of life and the mystery of human existence" and tied this in the with standing stones which to him symbolised something mystical and long lasting.

Photos by Linda McCartney, included on the album.

Paul wrote a poem to assist in getting the story he was trying to convey straight in his head, and it was printed in the booklet of the album. However, Paul wanted the music to work without the listener necessarily knowing the story, for the music to speak for itself, and so wanted to create a piece that "relies entirely on colours and effects drawn from orchestral and choral forces".

He also created two paintings to go alongside it:

I really recommend watching the documentary, Paul is absolutely delightful throughout the whole thing. It's the first time he'd used a computer and software to help him compose and he seems so excited to talk about it (and he has a Wallace & Gromit mouse mat!).

What's also interesting is how the rest of the team spoke about him. They all make a point that this was Paul's creation, and although David Matthews, John Harle, and Richard Rodney Bennet were brought in to assist with the composition, they all talk about Paul's talent, hard work, and the freshness of approach he brought. (The words 'benevolent dictator' may get used at some point, but they also speak of his kindness and generosity.)

It amazes me that someone with no formal music training could make a leap for pop/rock to classical. Composing for an entire 80 piece orchestra and 120 member choir is a completely different skillset to writing a song for the radio (and I'm not saying that's a lesser thing to be able to do, just different). The fact Paul was not only willing to take on the challenge and push himself, but created something so magical speaks to the sheer creative force that he is.

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[elsewhereuniversity]

Jw, but it's been a minute. Are y'all okay? Any updates?

Thanks for checking in, that's really sweet of you. Sorry for the radio silence. To be honest I am Not Doing Great. I'm getting through it and things should get easier in a few weeks, but it's been a rough winter.

About the boat/accident/insurance, no word since last October. Still no idea if we can expect any compensation for the months of lost income from the accident. Depending on the day I get either very sad or very angry about it still. The paperwork is mostly sorted out now, but that's been a nightmare at times too. And I've found I'm now really anxious about something happening to my partner/going wrong on the boat when I'm not there to help. I was parking the car when the accident happened and my partner was on board trapped below deck by the falling mast. I ran the whole way to the docks and I don't remember most of it. ig the whole thing's had more of an impact on me than I'd realized, and managing that's been a challenge.

My partner and I also got hit with about 10k total of unexpected and necessary expenses (dental surgery and vehicle repairs being the big things). I had to get a winter job to cover us, leaving my partner to repair the boat alone. So I've been working 80-90hrs a week while he's doing what's rightfully a job for two people, and every week there's been a new crisis that's a thousand dollars plus to fix. We've scraped through, and we'll be alright, but it's been exhausting.

Because of that, repairs are taking longer than we'd hoped. They're still ongoing, and at this point all the spruce for the new mast is planed smooth to the right width, but it's on hold for the moment because the table saw isn't working right. The owner of the workshop has told us not to use it at all till he can look at it himself. Once that's fixed we can start cutting rabbets - the grooves that let the planks fit together. But it's definitely not getting finished before summer.

It'll get easier soon. I do genuinely like my winter job, and once it wraps up, I can help my partner in the shipyard. I'm mostly recovered from dental surgery at this point. A friend offered us his boat so our little tour company can sail this summer like normal, and that'll be enough to pay the bills and fund the next year of repairs. The owner of the workshop says we can keep our 50ft table set up all summer so we can keep working on the mast when we have rain days. If we can just make it to June then we'll be in the water with all major yearly expenses covered and a regular source of income again, and from there life should get easier.

That's where we're at right now - no big news, just getting through. We're shifting gears soon to focus on getting the new boat ready for the season, and we're hoping that over the summer we'll complete the new mast and begin to address to damage to Nautilus' deck and hull, starting by pulling up her teak planking to get at the fiberglass below. She's stored outside so that's a warm weather project anyway.

Thanks again for asking, it means a lot. Sorry I've been so quiet here. My partner's taken some lovely videos of the planing and other workshop things. I've been too tired/busy to sort through and post them, but I'll get there eventually. I miss elsewhere a lot; one of my only non-work things is picking away at that little elsewhere u text game I'm still trying to write. Nowhere near fit for human consumption yet, but I miss it here! When things are finally better I'm looking forward to coming back.

[marvelstoriesepic]

⋆⁺₊❅. Whumpcember Masterlist 2024 ⋆⁺₊❅.

Welcome to my Whumpcember Masterlist for 2024.

I'm excited to get this started! Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year, so I just had to participate in a writing challenge this year. ☃︎𓏲

The original post to the writing challenge by @whumpcember 🩵

I know I still have a few - a whole lot - open projects I definitely should attend to but this is something I’ve been looking forward to and I’ll be trying my best to get to the rest in a timely manner.

Also, I don’t know how many prompts I will write for this month.

I already participated in two writing challenges in October but unfortunately didn’t manage to achieve everything I've had planned.

So, let’s see where this takes me. 𖠰 ⊹ᨒ↟ 𖠰

Note: Every fic will have their own warnings. I only write for Bucky Barnes. I write with a female reader in mind. I do not consent my work to getting republished.

Masterlist

𐂂 Prompt 5: Concussion

𐂂 Prompt 7: Kidnapped

𐂂 Prompt 12: I have nowhere else to go

𐂂 Prompt 15: Broken glass

𐂂 Prompt 18: Poisoned

𐂂 Prompt 27: Hypothermia

“The beauty of winter captures my soul, wild and raging, belovingly cold.”

- Conny Cernik

[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 9

Chapter Summary:

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual? They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!Farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None?

Notes:

I know, I know I'm such a horrible person for leaving this story hanging loose in the air. I've honestly had this chapter rotting in my drafts because I didn't have the motivation to write anymore, not to mention the lack of luxury with time. I just recently graduated as well so I was busy preparing for that back in July-October (I'm a working woman now, hooray! [Not 😔]) Nobody told me that working a 9-5 job (or more like 8-6 in my case) is going to be the end of me. That doesn't even include the 6-hour commute back to back. So as you can see, I'm dying here. I don't really have the time to sit in front of my laptop after hours of sitting in front of my company laptop 😔 I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I still can't promise an immediate update after this. This chapter serves as my apology to you guys. Hope you like it!

Fall 1

"Tell me. Are you and Y/n/n dating?"

Haley nearly choked on her food. Emily said it so casually that she wasn't prepared how to react properly.

So, as opposed to her usually calm and composed demeanor, Haley only managed to sputter a pathetic "what?" as she sat down her toast and reached for her glass of water in hopes to wash down the piece of damn bread she had swallowed accidentally without chewing it properly, courtesy of her sister.

"Are you and Y/n/n dating?" Emily repeated, unabashed and with her annoying eyes crinkling from the side, a look Haley knew all too well when Emily was trying to rise up something in her.

"No, I heard you the first time!" Haley exclaimed, her face turning red as she slammed the empty glass. "I mean–what the hell, Em?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip of her coffee, acting like she was not actively ruining her little sister's evening right now.

"You mean to tell me you're not after your whole public display of affection on the night of the moonlight jellies?"

For a brief moment, the events flashed back on Haley's mind– your silent tears, quivering lips, Haley's arm wrapped around your waist in an almost protective, comforting way as you shared your thoughts with her for the first time since you came here. It was a casual and completely platonic thing to do.

She could vividly remember how fresh tears bested up on your eyes as a baby jellyfish separated itself from its group and went towards you, almost peering cautiously at the human before her.

It was beautiful, you said that night. The night was magical. and that only sank into you that you were no longer Joja's prisoner. You're here, in Pelican town, making a name for yourself, with townspeople who loved you and treated you as an equal. You have actual friends that care for you and most importantly, you found a home.

Was it casual for her to know all this?

"Y/n was feeling emotional at that moment. I was just trying to be her friend," she finally said after a moment of silence.

Yes, it's casual.

Emily must have noticed her pausing as she scoffed behind her toast. "Friend? I certainly don't kiss Sandy's forehead, and she's my best friend."

"Because you're doing way worse with her." Haley rolled her eyes at that. "Seriously, Em, get off my back. Y/n and I are just good friends."

"Okay, I'll get off your back if you can counter my arguments," Emily challenged, leaning forward the table with a mischievous glint in her eye.

She should say no. Emily's just giving her something else to bite on knowing fully well Haley's bound to bite more than she could chew.

Say no. There's nothing to counter because there's nothing to even argue about.

Say n–

"Yoba, fine, if that will shut you up." Damn it, Haley.

Emily's smirk grew and Haley dreaded the first thing that would come out of her hippie mouth.

"You don't kiss Alex on the forehead at all. You don't even hug him for Yoba's sake, and he's your best friend. You're going to tell me everything that's going on with Y/n is entirely platonic and casual?" Emily's expression was triumphant as she laid out her case.

Haley lets out a grin of her own. If Emily's going to lay out obvious bullshits like this then she can definitely handle whatever her sister's planning to throw at her.

"First off, Alex stinks—"

"Y/n/n's job makes her friends with dirt and sweat, no offense to her, but isn't that an ick already to you?" Emily interrupted, smirking.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about because her hygiene is almost as impeccable as mine," Haley retorted, a smirk of her own forming as she took a defiant bite of her bacon.

"Okay... Were you practicing your answers before?" Emily narrowed her eyes at her, suspicious. "There's no way you're this prepared to counter my arguments!"

"So, I won?"

"Ah, ah... not quite, little sis." Emily stopped her from standing up. "How about the sunflower? That girl planted a whole yard of sunflowers in her yard and you mean to tell me there's nothing homosexual happening around you guys?"

"She's a farmer, duh. Of course, she's going to plant sunflowers at some point. They're pretty and very much profitable."

"Not as profitable as blueberries, corn, or cranberries. Plus, I've been there, it's almost half a hectare, it's crazy."

"You're kidding?" Haley's eyes bulged at that. She's got to admit, she did not see that bullet coming. "Last time I was there, it was just in her front yard."

"Half a hectare," her sister affirmed with that stupidly annoying knowing smirk. "You didn't see that coming, did you? Got no counter for me?"

"Shut up. If you're so curious about her lack of good strategy with her crops, you should talk to her yourself." Haley finally snapped, pushing her plate away.

She's done humoring Emily with her shits.

"Oh, I'll do just that." But it seemed her sister wasn't done with her either. "Anyway, moving on. How can you explain the holding hands?"

Haley visibly relaxed at that. She has some sensible explanation for that, one she's certain Emily wouldn't be able to counter.

"Female friends do that."

"Hmm... So if she were to hold hands with her best friend, Penny, that would be alright with you?" Well, shit.

That made her pause for the second time this evening.

"Of course," she scoffed. "As I said, it's normal for female friends to do that. It's a casual thing girls do. Nothing to bat an eye for."

Sensible explanation her ass. That wasn't even half-sensible, if at all

"I figured," Emily responded, expression turning much more serious now that it kind of made Haley even more nervous. "I just thought if she were this mushy with you, and you're just friends with her, then she's probably mushier with her best friend."

Silence.

Because what the fuck is she supposed to respond to that? This is a piece of information that hadn't crossed her mind, ever. She knows you're a sweetheart to everyone. It's as if it was second nature to you. It was a casual and completely platonic of you to do. Nothing to bat an eye for.

Nothing.

Still. She just hadn't considered the possibility of you being mushier to others.

Were you also comforting Penny the way you were comforting her?

So caring and protective that it felt like those warmth were exclusive just for her only?

She just couldn't imagine it before and now it's physically making her sick in her stomach. Was this still casual for her to even feel?

"She's pals as well with Leah, I heard they'd occasionally do sleepovers in their cabins. It's so cut–" Emily went on before finally noticing the turmoil in her sister's eyes cascading down to her hands. "Okay, what did that tissue ever do to you?"

Haley stopped, noticing the crumpled piece of tissue against her clenched fists. She looked up to Emily with a sharp glare and found her sister staring back at her, not even flinching away from her dissecting gaze. "Why are you even saying this to me?"

"Nothing. Just thought it would be best to talk to one of the possible sources. I heard from Abigail that Y/n/n just recently purchased a bouquet of flowers so I thought she might have given it to you."

Emily's sudden nonchalance at this conversation is infuriating her to a certain degree that she felt like she wanted to barge inside Clint's sorry-ass-of-a-shop and beat the living shit out of him.

Emily went on, humming casually as she piled up the dishes to wash them in the sink. "Hmm, I couldn't believe I was wrong. You were so close with her that I thought she'd give it to you. I guess she's been secretly seeing someone else then."

"She what?" Her stomach dropped.

Haley was so caught off guard at her last sentence that she couldn't help but rip the tissue on her hands. So much for that.

"It's been the talk of the town, you know? There are even bets going on but it's kind of hard to pinpoint who exactly, not when she gets along with all the bachelors and bachelorettes here. Some even bet on themselves, like Abigail. I mean, it does make sense. She and Y/n/n spent an awful lot of time on those mines."

That made Haley stand up from her seat, her form indignant. "So, you bet on me? Is this why we're having this conversation?"

"Of course, I would support my sister!" replied Emily, briefly looking behind her shoulder just in time to catch Haley scowling from where she stood. She went on, almost saying the words in a singsong voice as she continued soaking the dishes. "But if you want, I can always bet to myself. Y/n is a cute gal after all."

"I hate everything about you."

"You don't!" Emily readily chirped out behind Haley who had enough of this conversation and was already stomping her way into her room.

"Good night, Em!"

With that, she slammed the door to her room in hopes of finally ending this damn conversation. If she knew this was where it would have led, she would have bolted out the moment Emily opened her mouth.

She didn't need to know all this particularly if you hadn't even said anything else to her about this.

She scoffed. 'I thought we were close enough for her to share something like this with me. Afraid not.'

"I'm just saying, sis. Y/n/n is one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the valley. Anyone would be lucky to have her."

Emily's voice came once again just behind her door making her groan against her pillow. Hadn't she had enough?

Haley briefly considered running towards her dark room just to tune out whatever Emily was going to say but she stopped dead in her tracks when her sister's words next came through.

"There's going to be a competition. If you don't get your shit together soon, someone's bound to steal her heart. I just hate to see you getting hurt."

Was it casual for her to admit that hearing this news was already starting to hurt her?

This could mean nothing. Right?

****

Fall 2

A day of shopping in Zuzu City was just what Haley needed. While she had promised herself to tone down on hoarding clothes, she made an exception just this once. Shopping was one of her ways to cope with stress, aside from photography, but she had scratched the thought of using her camera for today because she didn't feel like spending her day wandering around town. With the bets on whom Y/n was giving the bouquet to, she knew the townspeople's eyes were hot on her trail.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape when Haley stepped off the bus, her arms laden with shopping bags from her trip to the city.

She had noticed Pam looking her way since the trip began, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the older woman wanted to hear from her. That's why when the bus pulled to a stop, Haley was quick to bolt out of the vehicle.

"Oi, kid." Haley froze at the sound of Pam's voice. So much for her plan to escape. "Haley."

"Oh." Haley whirled around, fighting back a wince at what was about to come. "Hey, Pam. What's up?"

Pam's steps were slow and deliberate as she stepped off the bus and Haley had no choice but to watch and wait expectantly for the words to finally come out.

"Are you and Farmer Y/n dating?" There it is.

Despite expecting this topic, Haley couldn't help but feel her face flush slightly under Pam's scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhm... no?"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Haley shifted on her feet, glancing down at her shopping bags as if they might provide an answer. "We're not dating," she said more firmly this time. "Why?"

"Good, then that scratches you off the list."

"Excuse me?" Haley's brows knitted in confusion.

"You see, kid. There have been bets going on about who Y/n will give the bouquet to. Of course, I'm putting all my beers on my little girl. She's the closest to the farmer, aside from you. So, if you weren't dating Y/n, then my Penny's definitely got a shot."

Haley blinked, taken aback. "And you're okay with that? I mean... Y/n's a girl and all..."

Pam raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "I didn't know you were homophobic, kid."

"I'm not! I swear. It's just that… things are a bit different now compared to your—well, generation. I doubt my folks would be as accepting as you."

Pam's face softened slightly as she sighed. "Penny's father left us when she was really young. So, I don't wish for her to experience the same thing. Y/n's a good kid. Responsible and has a sense of direction. Far from my dead-beat husband. Penny's happy with her, and that's the only thing that matters to me. And it's not bad that the gal is well-off. I heard she was supposed to be Joja's heiress. But even so, that farm of hers is enough to provide for generations of her future family. I could never ask for more capable hands to take care of my kid than Y/n."

Haley couldn't help but tune out of this conversation. She didn't need to hear all the right reasons why Penny's the best shot for your heart. Penny's a sweetheart and all, has her heart set in the right direction, a characteristic that perfectly compliments your lifestyle.

But why does this feel like Emily stabbed her with her kitchen knife and twisted it for good measure just to spite her?

Wait... what did she just say?

"Joja?" She furrowed her eyebrows at this information. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From the mayor, but don't tell him I told you. I think it was supposed to be a secret or some shit." Pam shrugged. " Still... word gets around, you know? Small town and all. People talk. But it doesn't matter where she came from. What matters is who she is now and how she treats the people she cares about."

Haley nodded slowly, absorbing Pam's words but couldn't tell exactly why there was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow.

"I guess you're right. Y/n's a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have her." Haley faked a smile, desperately hoping the older woman didn't catch her in her lie.

Pam smiled, her stern demeanor softening. "Exactly. So, if you're not interested, that's fine. But just know that I know when people are bullshitting me. I know, I know it's not any of my business. But if you really do happen to have something going on with the farmer, get your shit together soon."

"I'll..." She didn't know it was possible to have the lump in her throat grow even more, she could feel a twinge of something else she couldn't quite identify. "I'll take note of that. Thanks for the chat, Pam. I'll see you around."

"Likewise, kid," Pam replied, waving as she climbed back onto the bus. "Oh, and Haley?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what you feel, don't let fear stop you from following your heart, or else you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you had."

When even other people can point out how non-platonic and far from casual the things you and she do are, is it still casual now?

****

Fall 9

It's been an excruciating week of being asked if she was dating Y/n, and it's starting to get on Haley's nerves. Not because she was entirely opposed to the idea, but because she knew it wasn't even her to begin with, and she didn't need everyone rubbing salt in her wound every minute and every second of every damn day.

She didn't need to hear Abigail bragging to Sebastian and Sam that any day now, she'd be receiving the same bouquet she had arranged that you bought from Pierre, and how ironic it would be if she were to receive them, and how she wasn't actually opposed to the idea.

"I haven't really considered that I could possibly like a girl, but hey, it's Y/n. I'm not complaining. If she were to give me the flowers, I'd say yes in a heartbeat," she had even said. That's all Haley needed to hear to decide she wasn't in the mood to shop right now at Pierre's if she was going to hear bullshits like that.

She also didn't need to hear any sort of development you have with Penny. She didn't need to know you went with her to Zuzu to buy some school supplies for the kids on Penny's birthday. She didn't need to hear you gave the teacher and her students a tour of your farm.

She didn't need to hear any of it.

Because how in Yoba's name had she not considered your growing friendship with the redhead?

"Miss Y/n? I have a question," Haley heard one day from behind the trees by Cindersap Lake. She lowered her camera from her eyes when she recognized Jas' voice followed by yours.

"What is it, Jas?"

"You're from the city, right? How do you court someone there?"

She heard you chuckle. "Well... We go on dates, walk our dates back to their door, and then... That's when our date will decide if they still want to see us for our next date."

You paused, and Haley thought that was it, but the next words you uttered almost made her pack up her equipment and go home.

"And if we're worthy of being kissed."

"Y/n!" came Penny's scandalized gasp. "They're kids. They don't need to hear that!"

"Right, right... Sorry, Pen!"

"Ohhh." That's Vincent. "So, are you like courting Miss Penny since you're walking her home, too?"

"Vincent!" Penny scolded, sounding almost aghast at her student's blunt question.

Haley could only allow herself to breathe when you finally answered Sam's brother.

"Haha, we're walking Jas home together, remember? If anything, it seems you were the one courting her since you wanted to come with us to walk her home," you teased him.

"Ew! I don't want Vincent to court me!"

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"You're too childish like your brother! No wonder Miss Penny turned down Mister Sam. I bet you she likes someone like Miss Y/n. I know I would."

"Hey!" yelled Vincent, obviously offended.

"Okay, that's enough kids," admonished Penny, and Haley could only imagine the horror on her face at Jas' comment. "It's not good to gossip, Jas, and it's not polite to ask adults things like that, Vincent."

"Alright, Miss Penny. I'm getting inside. Thank you for walking me home," Jas replied, her tone still somewhat defiant.

"Bye, Jas!" you called after her, followed by the sound of Vincent sniffling. "Hey now, little dude... don't be upset. I'm sure Jas was only joking."

"I don't understand why she needs to be mean. Am I not likable?" Vincent's voice wavered.

Haley dared to take a peek behind the bushes. She watched as you knelt down to be at eye level with Vincent, your smile as warm as the setting sun.

"Anyone can be likable to a certain someone. Like you," you said, ruffling his hair. "But we can't really force someone to like us the way we want, you know?"

"But... are you just going to accept they don't like you even though you're nice?" Vincent asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

You chuckled softly, briefly looking up to meet Penny's eyes, which had been fixed on you with such fondness that it tightened the knot in Haley's stomach.

"Well... I didn't say you have to give up. Sometimes people say mean things to protect themselves. You just have to be patient, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually," you explained gently.

Vincent nodded, his big brown eyes hanging on to every word you said.

"But..." you continued, "if this person has made it clear they don't like you, then you have to accept their boundaries, okay?"

"Eh..." He pouted. "I don't get it. Adulting is so confusing."

You barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to grow up, buddy."

Vincent's expression brightened a bit at your words. "Okay, I'll try to remember that."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Penny smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at you. "Thank you, Y/n. You're really good with them."

"Thanks, Penny," you replied, standing up and stretching. "They're good kids. Just need a little guidance sometimes."

"Are you feeling any better now, Vincent?" Penny asked gently. "Don't take Jas' words to heart, okay?"

"Uh-huh! I'm feeling a little better, Miss Penny! But... could Miss Y/n carry me until we get home? I'm..." He yawned. "I'm a little tired."

"Uhm, I don't think..."

"... alrighty then, let's get this little guy home as well," Haley could hear you grunt, and she could only imagine you carrying the sleepy Vincent in your arms.

"Your farm's right there, Y/n/n." Penny pointed out gently. "I can walk Vincent home. You don't have to make a detour."

"Nonsense, a little walk isn't going to kill me. Plus, I want to walk you home as well."

The redhead giggled softly. "I wasn't informed you were courting me."

"Oh, really now? I wasn't informed either," you joked, and Haley could feel herself dying a little on the inside.

****

Was it casual when you gave her daffodils every chance you could get when you barely even knew her?

Was it casual for you to have a daily mandatory breakfast with the Carter siblings?

Was it casual when you gave Haley her favorite gift on her birthday even though coconuts aren't something you can just spawn at hand when you need them to?

Was it casual that you managed to pay attention enough to actually know what her favorites are?

When you were drunk and Haley made her way outside to get you, in a greasy saloon of all places, even though she's not yet finished with her skincare, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you called her babe while you were drunk?

Was it casual when you declared you'd only allow yourself to be this close to her is in the reality you created in your dreams?

When she stayed at your place, took care of you, and cleaned your vomit-stained shirt and mattress, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you avoided her for four days because you thought you ruined her pampering day?

When she started minimizing her makeup because you told her once she's pretty even without them, was it casual?

When Haley was upset at the thought you'd be dancing with someone else, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you assured her you didn't want to dance with anyone but her?

When Haley, for once, didn't think about winning the flower dance and was focused on your endearing smile and relaxing embrace, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you were bloody and wet from the rain and the first thing you thought was knocking on her door?

When she could only focus on your wounds rather than your dirt-stained body staining the carpet, was it casual?

When Haley tried her hardest to treat your wounds despite fearing the sight of blood, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you almost died to get her a gift just because you thought she'd find them pretty enough to be the subject of her camera?

When Haley kissed your forehead the same way her grandmother used to do on her to kiss the pain away, was it casual?

When Haley forced you to take her bed because she couldn't bear to let your injured self sleep uncomfortably on the couch, was it still casual?

Was it casual when the first thing you thought upon waking up was to let Haley sleep on her bed because you didn't want her to suffer any back pain from her sleeping position on the foot of the bed even though you're injured yourself?

When Haley thought you hated her for the poisonous words she spouted on you that night and hated herself for it, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you tried your hardest to find her great grandma's bracelet because you couldn't bear to see her so upset despite your injuries?

Was it casual when you crafted a bouquet of sunflowers to make up for giving her a hated gift?

Was it casual when you planted a whole yard of sunflowers on your farm when Haley mentioned in passing that she loves them?

Was it casual when you helped her with her shopping bags even though you were obviously going somewhere else?

Was it casual for you and her to walk in the town, hand in hand? It could mean nothing.

When Haley's view of success was you beside her, was it casual?

When Haley couldn't handle the feeling of disappointing you, was it casual?

Was it casual of you to magically appear whenever she needs you?

Was it casual of you to be her number-one supporter in everything when she couldn't even believe in herself?

Was it casual when you made it your personal mission to keep her happy no matter what?

Was it casual when you made sure that no dirt could touch her not when you're around because you know how much she hated getting dirty?

When Haley no longer minds the feeling and smell of dirt, especially when you're around, was it still casual now?

Was it casual when you modeled for her despite hating modeling itself because Haley needed some new variations for her photography?

When Haley tried to conquer her fear of the ocean because she saw you once having fun with Leah swimming along the shore, was it casual?

Was it casual when you helped her conquer this fear even though you had plans for the day?

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual?

They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

****

The general store was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only a couple of customers browsing the shelves and the faint hum of Pierre’s old radio playing a static-filled tune in the background. Haley placed her basket of groceries on the counter with an air of casual confidence, her hair shimmering under the warm glow of the store's lights as if she had just stepped out of a magazine.

"There's my favorite blonde," Pierre greeted her with a grin, his tone far too cheerful to pass as entirely neutral. He adjusted his glasses as he began unpacking her items. "You got everything you need?"

Haley offered a small, polite smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would appreciate it though if you restocked your peppermint coffee. Winter's coming soon, and I need my coffee to survive the whole season."

Pierre chuckled, nodding as he scribbled something on a notepad beside the register. "I'll keep note of that."

The rhythmic beep of the scanner broke the silence, but Pierre seemed to drag out the process, deliberately slow with each item. Haley tilted her head, pretending to examine the jars of preserves on a nearby shelf, though her curiosity flickered with each stolen glance Pierre gave her from behind the counter.

Her patience thinned as the seconds stretched on. She crossed her arms and finally turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. "What?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to slice through his act.

Pierre blinked, his hand pausing mid-air with a can of soup. "What, what?" he asked, his tone layered with faux innocence.

Haley raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into one of exasperated suspicion. "Nothing. It's just... you looked like you wanted to say something."

Pierre hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a sheepish grin spread across his face. "Has farmer Y/n told you who she gave the bouquet to?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Is this about the bet?"

"Sort of," Pierre admitted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Come on, I gave Gus five grand. I just know my daughter caught her eye. Why else would Y/n be here every other day just to give Abigail her weird collection of stones?"

Haley rolled her eyes so hard it felt like they might stay that way. "First off, it's none of your business. Secondly, even if I did know, I'm not about to spill it to the entire town."

Pierre's grin faltered slightly, but his persistence didn’t waver. "I get it." He sighed dramatically as he began to load her bag, though his eyes darted toward her with a flicker of mischief. "She gave it to you, didn’t she? I mean, it makes total sense."

Her irritation bubbled just beneath the surface as she prepared to unleash a sharp retort, each word she'd make sure colorful enough to crush Pierre's so-called pride.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood as her lips parted to speak.

But then it happened—before she could form a single syllable, the distinct scent of freshly cut grass and minted soap filled her senses. Haley froze, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as warmth radiated from the figure now standing just behind her.

"Hey there, doll," your voice was soft, low, and entirely too close for her comfort—or rather, for her ability to maintain composure. Haley could feel the faint brush of your breath against her skin, and she clenched her jaw to stifle a gasp.

Pierre perked up, his eyes sparkling with newfound interest as he set the last of Haley’s items into her bag. "Well, speak of the devil," he quipped with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms. "The farmer of the hour. What brings you here, Y/n?"

"Oh, I'm just out to get Haley," you replied smoothly, your tone casual as if you weren’t practically pressed against Haley’s back. You leaned slightly to the side, catching her narrowed gaze as she turned her head just enough to glance at you. "Emily told me she'll be here."

Haley’s lips twitched, fighting to suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Do you mind?" she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something she refused to name.

She instinctively took a step forward, creating a thin barrier of space between the two of you. The distance was barely anything, but it felt monumental to her frayed nerves. You noticed it, of course—you noticed everything, just as you’d noticed her avoiding you the past few days. She’d orchestrated this whole "not a date" movie outing at your farm a while back before she started this shindig of avoiding you, and yet here she was, cornered by her own choices. She knew you'd confront her eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Damn you, Emily. Haley cursed internally. Her sister's meddling defies the bound of the universe.

"Oh! Out for a date, I see," Pierre chimed in, his tone laced with playful curiosity. His eyes darted between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Haley's pulse quickened, and she forced herself to remain calm. She looked at you, waiting—no, daring you to deny it. Say something, she thought. Deny it. Deflect. Anything.

Your eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind your bangs as you opened your mouth, undoubtedly preparing to clarify the situation. But before a single word could escape, the bell above the door jingled sharply, drawing all attention to the entrance.

Morris stepped inside, his smug face immediately souring the air. His presence was an unwelcome shadow, sharp and intrusive, like nails on a chalkboard.

Haley caught the subtle change in your demeanor, a storm cloud rolling across your features. You muttered a string of profanities under your breath, quiet enough that most wouldn't catch it. But Haley was close—too close—and every word hit her ears like a sharp note.

It startled her; you rarely, if ever, swore in her company.

The tension in your frame said everything she needed to know. Your clenched jaw, the way your hand flexed and then balled into a fist by your side, all screamed one thing: you loathed the man in front of you.

Haley felt her blood begin to boil, mirroring your intensity. You’d never told her exactly what had happened during your time with Joja, but the bitterness in your expression now, the way your muscles coiled like you were ready to fight, painted a vivid enough picture. That, and the sight of Morris’s condescending grin, was enough to make her want to deck the man herself.

"Miss Y/n!" Morris's oily voice filled the space, louder than necessary. "What a pleasant surprise! I finally got ahold of you." His gaze flicked briefly to Haley, dismissing her with barely a glance before returning to you. "When my employee Shane told me the new farmer who’d taken over the rundown farm was named Y/n, I didn’t think it was you at first."

Haley's fists clenched around her grocery bag. Her heart thudded with protective anger, but she said nothing, instead glancing at you from the corner of her eye. The slight twitch in your brow, the way your jaw tightened, and the stiffness in your stance spoke volumes. You were trying to keep calm, but Haley knew it was taking everything in you not to snap.

"Folks kept talking about a lovely farm you've got there," Morris continued, clearly not picking up on the warning signs. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d gone from our... employee of the month to a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere."

You took a deep breath through your nose, the air between you practically crackling with suppressed emotion. When you finally spoke, your voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a storm.

"Morris," you said curtly, your tone colder than Haley had ever heard it. "Piss off."

Haley's eyes widened slightly at your words. She'd never heard you speak like that before, not even when you were angry. There was venom in your tone, something raw and unfiltered.

"My, my... what foul words you have there, miss," Morris said, raising a hand to cover his mouth in mock disbelief, though his smirk betrayed his true intent. "Anyhow," he continued, his voice oozing false geniality, "I received a call from your mother stating that you had AWOL'ed from your job and left the city. This only spurred me to seek out the new farmer in town with the same name as you. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, right?"

Your jaw clenched, and your knuckles turned white as your nails dug into your palm. Haley could feel the tension radiating off of you like heat from a furnace. "Shut up," you hissed, your tone low but charged.

"But you were sleek," Morris went on, as if he hadn’t heard you—or more likely, chose to ignore you. "For months I tried to get a sight of you. It should have been easy, given how small this town is, but I never caught even a glimpse of you. Tell me, were you avoiding Joja on purpose?"

Haley's stomach churned as she watched you struggle to keep your composure. She'd never seen you like this—on edge, restrained, a storm barely contained behind your eyes.

"I don’t want anything to do with Joja," you spat, your voice trembling slightly, not with fear, but with the effort it took to hold yourself back. "And I don’t want anything to do with my mother. I left Joja for good, and I have no desire to take over that hell of a company."

"Joja needs its heir, Miss Y/n. No matter how far you run, Joja will always be one step behind you." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve already informed your mother of your presence here in Pelican Town, and she is beyond displeased."

Haley saw your breath hitch, your shoulders stiffening as Morris’s words hit their mark.

"You’re wasting your time," you bit out, your voice quieter now, but no less fierce. "I’m not going back, and there’s nothing she—or Joja—can do to change that."

Morris chuckled, a low, condescending sound that made Haley’s skin crawl. His smirk widened, and he tilted his head in mock pity. "Oh, Miss Y/n, you underestimate Joja’s reach. This quaint little farm life of yours is nothing but a detour. We both know that."

Your fists clenched at your sides, trembling slightly, not out of weakness, but from the sheer force of holding yourself together. Your breath came out unsteady, the weight of his words pressing down like an iron vice.

"I don’t care," you spat, your voice cracking under the strain of bottled-up frustration. "I’ve spent blood, sweat, and tears on my grandpa’s farm—making it thrive, grow, and function all on its own. Every single effort I’ve made here has been worth something. Something the company never gave me."

Haley froze, her eyes darting to you. There was a rawness in your voice she wasn’t prepared for, an unguarded glimpse into a part of you she’d never seen.

"Even if I tried—even if I died trying—my mother would never be satisfied with my work," you continued, your voice rising with every word, trembling with pent-up anguish. "So how dare she? How dare she say she’s disappointed in me, like I’m supposed to care, when that’s the only thing she’s ever felt at the very sight of me?"

Morris let out a low hum, his fingers tapping idly against the counter. "Joja is all about hard work, Miss Y/n. Maybe she just hasn’t seen it on you?" His tone was measured, almost bored, but his words were like a needle aimed directly at the cracks in your armor.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. Haley flinched at the sound, her heart clenching as she watched you unravel.

"Hard work?" you echoed, your voice dripping with venom. "Hard work means nothing to Joja. It doesn’t matter how much I gave, how much of myself I sacrificed, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough."

Morris raised an eyebrow, as if amused by your outburst. "Look," he said with an air of condescension, "the missus, as much as she is strict and calculated, is only doing this to ensure you’re capable of handling the company once she steps down as CEO. Surely, you must be aware of that?"

Haley could see the way your shoulders stiffened, your lips pressing into a tight line, and your chest rising and falling as you struggled to control your breathing. She knew that Morris’s words had struck a nerve, and her patience finally snapped when she saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes.

"She doesn’t care about me being capable," you said quietly, each word laced with bitterness. "She only cares about molding me into her image. Into something I’m not—and something I never want to be."

Haley stepped forward without hesitation, planting herself firmly between you and Morris, her eyes blazing with a fury that caught everyone off guard.

"Sorry to intrude," she began sharply, her tone like ice, "but have you even seen Y/n’s farm? That place was a dump before she came here, and now it’s practically a well-oiled machine. Her farm has boosted this town’s economy more than you and Pierre’s businesses combined. And you know why?" Haley tilted her head, her voice turning venomous. "Because of Y/n’s dedication and hard work. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you have the right to judge who’s ‘working hard’ when you couldn’t lift a finger to do it yourself."

Morris’s smug expression faltered for the first time, but he quickly recovered, his smirk widening as he saw an opportunity to strike back. "Ah, I see what’s going on here," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "If you really want your fair share of Joja’s wealth, you should convince your girlfriend here to come back to Zuzu City and manage the company like the true Joja she is." His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Though I doubt the missus would approve of this... kind of relationship."

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Stepping forward, you shoved Morris back a step, your voice low and dangerous. "Fuck off. You don’t get to disrespect her like that."

Morris’s smugness wavered, but he tried to rally. "But I—"

"I don’t want to hear another word from you," you snapped, your tone brooking no argument. "Leave. Now."

Morris opened his mouth to retort, but Haley cut him off, her glare sharper than a knife. "You heard her. Get lost."

Morris huffed, his composure cracking slightly. "Hmph. I’m not leaving until I distribute my 50%-off Joja coupons to these fine customers." He raised his voice, addressing the room. "Anyone who wants a discount, feel free to take one from me."

Before the murmurs could start, you turned sharply to Pierre. "No one moves a foot," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding. "Pierre."

"H-huh?" Pierre stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Everyone shopping here right now—everything in their carts, ring it up. Put it on my tab," you said decisively. "I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll stop by later to settle the bill."

Pierre blinked, stunned, before nodding quickly. "O-okay. Got it."

You turned back to Morris, your voice colder than ice. "No one here wants your fucking coupons. Get the hell out."

Morris narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated but unable to retaliate effectively. "You can’t pay for their tabs forever, Miss Y/n," he sneered. "Not with the little money your farm is making."

A smirk tugged at your lips, sharp and defiant. "You haven’t seen the progress of my farm, have you?" you asked, your voice filled with quiet triumph. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never do. By the end of the year, the community center will be fully restored, and Joja—" you jabbed a finger toward him, "Joja will never taint this town again."

Morris’s face darkened, but he said nothing as you turned to Pierre and motioned to the grocery bag you took from Haley. "Please ring this up as well, Pierre."

****

"Y/n... are you okay?" Haley's voice was soft, tentative, her usual sharpness dulled by concern.

You didn’t meet her eyes, your voice steady but distant. "I’ll walk you home, and then I’ll get going. I need to be alone for a while."

Haley hesitated, searching your face for something—anything—that would let her help. But all she found was a wall she couldn’t push past. "Oh... okay," she murmured.

****

The walk to her house was quiet, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you reached her door, Haley turned, her expression uncertain. "It’s only a raincheck, right?" she asked, her voice almost hopeful. "You’re not canceling our movie night?"

You gave her a small, tired smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Hmm. Maybe we can do it tomorrow instead."

Haley nodded slowly, watching as you turned to leave. "I’ll see you later, Y/n," she called softly, her voice lingering in the quiet night.

You didn’t look back, but you lifted a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing into the shadows. Haley watched you go, her chest tight with a mix of worry and something else she couldn’t quite name.

****

After you had dropped her off at her home, she moved quickly towards her kitchen, her movements deliberate as she retrieved a well-worn piece of paper. A single recipe sat tucked away for ages, something she hadn’t thought she’d use anytime soon. Yet, here she was, baking in autopilot, determined to bring you something that might make the silence a little more bearable.

It only sank in for Haley that you might have been serious about wanting to be alone for a moment when you opened the door to your farm after she knocked.

Well... No going back now.

"Hey..." she greeted hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I just... I thought it would be unfair that you're always there for me when I need you, and I left you alone just because you asked me to."

You didn’t speak immediately. The silence between you stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. For a moment, Haley worried she had crossed a line, overstepped some boundary. But before she could apologize, you offered her a faint, weak smile—a small curve of your lips, almost imperceptible, but a smile nonetheless.

"Are those cookies...?" you asked softly, your eyes landing on the tray she held out.

"Granny Evelyn's secret recipe. Freshly baked from the oven." Haley’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. "Thought this might cheer you up."

You took a slow breath, the air between you carrying a quiet weight. You stood a step closer to Haley, your hands clasped loosely in front of you.

"I can just go and leave, you know? I just really want to bring these cookies—"

Before she could finish, you cut her off with a warm, comforting hug, wrapping your arms around her gently. Your embrace was steady, grounding, a silent reassurance. The scent of fresh soap mixed with the faint aroma of wood and grass on your worn flannel shirt created a sense of familiarity.

"Of course, you’re always welcome here, silly, with or without cookies," you said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

"You say that but wait until you have a taste in them first," she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'm sure they'll taste delicious. Come," you urged, motioning her inside. "It's freezing outside."

"Thanks," she murmured, stepping past you into the warmth of the house.

"These your stuff?" you asked, noticing the bags she struggled to carry. "You should have called me so I could have helped you bring them here. It must have been a tough walk from your home."

"Yeah... sorry, I know it's a lot. Had to bring my skincare, you know?" she replied with a sheepish smile, setting the bags down on the worn wooden floor.

"Heh, if I didn't know you any better, I’d think you were moving in," you joked, giving her a playful nudge.

"Shut up, goof."

"Now, now... I didn’t say I was exactly opposed to the idea, m'lady," you continued, a grin tugging at your lips. "I would love it actually. It’s getting kind of lonely in here, you know? Sometimes I even question myself why I asked Robin to renovate the house this big when I’m all by myself."

"What? So you're saying you wanted me to stay here?"

"Would it be so bad?" you asked with a playful shrug.

"Perhaps? Especially if you're supposed to be saying these sappy things to your girlfriend." Haley's tone was teasing, but her smile faltered slightly as she added, "Yoba... I just realized. Penny won't be mad if I stayed the night, right? Or would she?"

"Huh? Why would she?" you asked, confused.

"Isn't she—" Haley began as she walked towards your room.

"Wait, Haley—" you called after her, a hint of worry in your voice, but it was too late.

"Oh..." Haley paused at the sight that greeted her eyes—a bouquet placed carefully on your bed, sunflowers nestled in among them. You were arranging them yourself, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm light on the delicate petals.

It took a moment for Haley to gather her thoughts. Her mind raced a thousand miles per hour, processing what she saw and the implications behind it.

"I thought you'd given Penny the—the uhm..." she began hesitantly.

"The bouquet?" you finished, your voice quiet. "What made you think so? And how'd you even know I have a bouquet?"

"I think what you mean is 'who else didn't know you'd bought a bouquet'," she replied, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

"Damn it, Pierre." You ran a hand through your hair, cursing under your breath. "Shit— you aren't supposed to see all these."

You sighed heavily as you walked toward the edge of the bed, keeping your gaze firmly away from her. The bouquet lay forgotten on the bedspread, the sunflowers blending with the faded, dried-out petals of the original flowers.

"I bought this days ago and I couldn't find the guts to give it to you. I guess I was waiting for the perfect timing or maybe I was chickening out. Shit, I don't really know..." you murmured, your voice shaky as you ruffled your hair anxiously. "All I know is the flowers dried out because I was a coward, and now I was planning to spend the whole night replacing the flowers with sunflowers instead of having our movie night because I'm mentally and emotionally unable to think straight because of what happened with Morris earlier, and now I'm babbling this to you like a fool and—"

"Breathe, Y/n." Haley’s voice was soft and soothing, her expression gentle as she stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. "It’s just me."

"Breathe... I can do that," you said, taking a slow breath and closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

"Now..." Haley continued, a teasing smile playing at her lips, "Can you clarify the part about who you were planning to give the bouquet to because I’m a bit slow and I’m going to have to assume it’s me if you don’t."

"It's for you," you finally confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought the sunflower already gave it away?"

"I..." Haley’s brows furrowed slightly, her voice softening as her expression turned thoughtful. "I thought you liked someone else..."

"And I thought I was pretty obvious," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You probably would have if I hadn't seen you treating others the same way you do to me," Haley said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was thoughtful, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes. "I don't really want to assume."

"But I don’t treat others the same way I treat you," you replied gently, your voice calm and steady.

"Giving favored gifts to every possible living thing you can see, walking Penny home, exploring mines with Abigail, painting with Leah..." Haley paused, glaring at you with a raised brow when she noticed the corner of your mouth twitch into a sly grin. "Do you honestly want me to continue the list?"

"No, no need. I got the message," you said with a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you stepped closer to her. You reached out slowly, taking her hands in yours with a tenderness that spoke volumes. Your thumb brushed gently against her knuckles, grounding the moment in a sense of intimacy that neither of you could ignore. "I guess I do those things with everyone. It was almost a natural instinct that I didn't need to bat an eye. It was normal for me. It was casual."

As your touch lingered, Haley’s breath hitched for a moment, and the rapid beating in her heart began to slow. What was once chaotic and unsure began to calm down, her mind finding clarity amidst the confusion.

"But for you... everything is complex," you continued, your voice steady, eyes locked onto hers. There was a sincerity in your gaze, a vulnerability in your words that couldn’t be dismissed. "And I don’t mean it as a bad thing. You made me second-guess everything I do. I was afraid I was being too obvious because I was doing too much. I was afraid that what I was doing bypassed everything I thought should be normal between friends. I was scared I was doing too much that I might scare you away."

Haley let out a soft, watery laugh, a quiet chuckle that broke through the tension between you both. She shook her head lightly, realizing you were both overthinking the same thing all along.

"So yeah... everything I did, everything I said from the start—it was never casual," you finished, your voice gentle but unwavering. "Simply because I like you, Haley. I’ve liked you for a long time."

There was a long, charged pause. It probably felt like an eternity to you, but it could’ve only been a minute or two—maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. If the roles were reversed, if Haley were in your place, she would’ve bolted in embarrassment, rushing back to her home to cry her heart out the moment you didn’t respond to her confession.

But this is you. You have always been patient. You still wore the same loving face the moment you started your confession and the moment you let out the last word. Nevermind your face is in a deep shade of red.

"You..." she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper before rising drastically. "You fucking idiot!"

"Huh?" you managed, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

Before you could process what was happening, her fists slammed hard against your chest. The force wasn’t enough to cause real pain, but the impact was enough to send a slight jolt through you. You wheezed softly between bursts of laughter, breath escaping in short bursts as she continued her assault.

"You liked me all this time and you didn’t say it earlier?!" she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

You let out another laugh, struggling for air as her fists smacked your chest again. At this point, it wasn’t about the physical impact—it was the sheer force of emotion behind it.

You must have had enough with Haley's fists dealing little to no damage on your ribcage because the moment she lifted her hands to strike again, you caught them gently in yours and leaned down to capture her lips, silencing the stream of profanities leaving her mouth.

When your lips finally parted, a brief, lingering pause stretched between you both, the air thick with emotions you both hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

"You could have said you liked me, y'know? No need to hit me." You said softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pulled back.

"I hate you," she grumbled, her expression softening despite the harsh words. Her gaze lowered, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks as the embarrassment of her outburst settled in.

"You don’t." You sounded far too smug, watching her squirm just a bit. "Emily said so."

Haley’s brow furrowed deeply as the realization dawned. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She thought back to that conversation, recalling her sister’s confident assurance. "You know about the bet all this time?!"

"Yup." Your grin widened.

She stared at you, her expression a mix of incredulity and irritation. "You asked my sister if you have a chance with me, didn’t you?"

You smirked but remained silent, letting the unspoken answer hang in the air.

"Good Yoba… Why did I have to like such an idiot dork." She huffed, puffing out a breath as her frustration began to give way to amusement. Her lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "Come here and let me wipe that stupid smirk from your face."

"You'll do that by?"

Her eyes rolled again, but the playful edge remained as she replied with a small, amused grin. "By kissing it off you, what else?"

~~~~~~

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

@tekanparadiae

@slug-on-bike

@prlan

@mit-suri

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[theus-what-are-you-doing]

DAY 29: FEAR

So this is my addition to @cinderellaboyincorectquotes Last week of October Challenge and their anonymous submitter. I thank you both for the prompts!

Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of it until now, so I'm just doing the latter days before Halloween while I can. This entry comes with an angsty short story too, the first fic I've actually written for Cinderella Boy, so I hope you all enjoy~

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FOUND THE BOY

Cinderella Boy OneShot || 850 Words

It was just one of those nights... another book closed, another day wasted, spent chasing after two boys as they tried to awkwardly stumble their way through a narrative that should have been simple to follow. Yet…

It went as well as it usually did, chaos with a twinkle of misbehaving antics and comedics. Not that Buddy minded all of these changes, mind you. It was getting him out of the shackles back in his cell after all, and he even found each experience to become a little more enjoyable than the last. But as the two left the book as they always did, Buddy could already feel the weight of the harsh metal pressing down on his wrists and neck once again, his key starting to glow, signifying it was also his time to go. He heard the faintest voice upon his ears, telling him that they shouldn't go back, almost begging, and yet he knew they had no choice, they never did. Buddy tried his best to comfort both the voice and himself as he breathed out shakily, bringing a purple key from around his neck, the one once hidden under his flamboyant costume, and held it close in the palms of his hands. A vibrant violet hue lit his eyes up from the glowing gem in the centre, soon snuffed out as he muttered those important words

“Send me back, please, Violet...”

With that, he was thrown backwards, even with Violet’s gentle attempts to not be so harsh when pushing him from the book, a flash of white and then a sinking heaviness soon following. The book dropped down before him just as someone’s hands clamped around his sore wrists and pulled him from the table, being quick to snatch the key hanging from around his neck and keeping it from him. A shadowy figure, all too familiar, stood before him, cane in one hand as the other lifted Violet to their face, eyes lit up while their face remained in shadow. Their rough voice pierced the panting silence.

“Hmm, that was more than last time… You seem to be rather enjoying yourself, Two.”

Buddy didn’t dare lift his head, rather making a noise akin to an affirmation. It still felt so weird to hear himself being referred to in such a way, growing a little too used to being called “Buddy” by the blonde starlight he had grown so fond of over the past year or so. ‘Two’ just didn't fit him any more, even if it had been all he had ever known

“Ah well, more for me to use when they are rightfully returned to us. Have you got any updates on your search?”

His shaking head was met with a subtle grimace, the other’s nose scrunching momentarily with their eyebrows knitting together, yet it was soon replaced with a snarky smirk, lips pulled up in a way that didn't seem quite humanly possible.

“Nevermind, despite your lack of verbal information, You have still managed to help us.”

That’s when Buddy’s eyes finally flickered up, staring through the parting strands of his dark hair, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of confusion and concern. What did he mean, help them? He didn’t want to help them! His confused look didn't go missed by the looming figure, giving them some sense of satisfaction. So they were right…

“Ah well… Thanks to you, number two…"

An insufferable pause followed, like the figure was dragging the revealing information out in some sadistic game of withholding, clearly taking some sick pleasure from the pained look on their prisoner's face. They finally spoke with a casual tone, almost treating it as if the information was nothing to be regarded, when it was quite the opposite to Buddy.

“We’ve finally found the one boy holding three of our beloved keys.”

Buddy's face fell and his hand reached up to grasp his increasingly beating heart, feeling it slowly race more as he started to comprehend the words. A gentle ‘What..’ almost left his lips as the other approached, reaching out and forcing his head upwards to face them in a snapped motion. He lip quivered with anxious fear as the other continued.

“I must thank you, truly, dear Two… I can not wait to have my precious keys back in my possession… nor to punish the one who has stolen them from me. Perhaps I will even reward you for your efforts.”

A loud and horrid laugh passed their lips, abrupt, as if they couldn't hold it in any longer, an unreadable glint behind their eyes. They dropped Buddy's face in disregard, wiping their hands on their waistcoat with a twinge of disgust lining their features. It wasn't long before they started to walk over to the reinforced door to the furthest side of the room, picking up the book Buddy had previously left as they did. They flicked through the pages idly, shutting the book with a slam once done.

“Perhaps I will let him visit you before he meets his punishment… Wouldn't that be a bittersweet ending to this chapter?”