#its a bit messy in some places but man. its real good

[stackslip]

gritted teeth. i cant believe im saying this but house of the dragon is really fucking good.

[redheadspark]

heyyy i hope im not late for requesting for this month's prompt, time has been really tight recentlyyy!! i would like prompt #12 and #16 with benedict bridgerton (do wtv pleases you, however you'd like, whether u wanna combine them or do them separately each prompt has its own imagine)

and thank youu!!❤️

A/N - Sorry this was a bit late, I was with my parents and I never got around to writing this sooner! but I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting!

Taste

Summary - Benedict will forever be your taste tester

Warnings - Just fluff :)

“You ate the last one?”

“You don’t have the proof!”

“It’s clearly on your face!”

Benedict laughed as you scowled at him, though it was not a real scowl.  In a teasing manner, Benedict quickly went to wash his hands in the sink before you would take the hand towel in retaliation.  The sweet smell of the freshly made cookies was still lingering above both of your heads, as well as the tangy scent of the lemons still perched by the sink.  The rest of the kitchen must have looked a mess with flour everywhere and some of the other ingredients askew, but it was not a negative thing.

In fact, you loved it.  Sundays were meant for baking.

You loved to bake, it was something that brought you peace ever since you were a little girl and you baked cookies with your mother.  She had the magic touch in baking and would bake everything and anything.  Cupcakes, muffins, bunt cakes, all and more, she knew precisely how to make it memorable.  Thankfully, you had the same gift and made it your own as you got older and branched out on your own.  You were still working a 9 to 5 job, gathering every single cent you would earn, yet you would save baking for your own time.

Baking was also a good second job for you, almost like a side hustle.  You’ve baked for birthdays, gender reveals anniversary parties, retirement affairs, and even for one funeral.  It was decent money, and once word got out about your baking skills, people were reaching out for you to bake for them.  So money was no longer an issue.

Your main issue was your fiancé, Benedict Bridgerton.

He stumbled into your life by pure accident or fate.  His brother Anthony and sister-in-law Kate reached out to you after hearing about you from a mutual friend, they requested treats for their own gender reveal tea that Anthony’s mother was throwing for them.  They were a lovely couple, the Bridgerton family was well known for their kindness and charitable work, so you took the couple up on their offer. Arranging an assessment of treats, from small cupcakes to large donuts, your dessert table was an instant hit.  Especially with the Bridgerton siblings, all of whom praised you in your desserts and stirring up a conversation with you.

Benedict was instantly smitten with you when he asked about the blueberry lemon cupcakes, and you two have been inseparable ever since.

Being the man that he was, he made your life far more interesting and entertaining.  There was never a dull day with him, which rocked your world and life greatly.  After a few times of dating, you both moved in together and you got the whole scope of who he was.  Although he was an acclaimed artist, he was also a bit messy.  You oddly trip over his shoes every once in a while that was thrown on the floor, his paints and easel seemed to look out of place in your shared bedroom with a bit of mess growing by the minute. Even in the way that he would be so aloof in how he would walk in the apartment as if he was walking amongst the clouds.

You walked in on him stripped down to his boxers at one moment in your kitchen, standing in front of the freezer to get some relief since your AC was not working its best.  You huffed, tossing your work bag on the countertop, and glared at him with your hands on your hips.  It was even harder since you wanted to jump his bones then and there from how he was only in his boxer shorts and leaving nothing to the imagination.

“I know it’s hot but Jesus, put some clothes on!” You scolded him, yet it was short-lived when he slammed the freezer door shut and chased you into the bathroom, you laughed as he helped strip off your clothes and you both went under the cold water together. 

He became a massive supporter of your baking, as well as everything else in your life.  You found him to be kind, insightful in the most unique of times, and an amazing artist.  He made you laugh in both the good and not-too-good times, your voice and advocate when you would have some unruly customers that would try and rip you off, and beyond loving to you when you were hard on yourself. It had to be the Bridegrton touch, something that seemed both magical and rare.  You found yourself far deep with him, which was not scary.  But it was light, light, and seasoned with magic here and there.

He asked you to show him how to bake, which turned out to be more chaotic than you thought.  It wasn’t that he was clumsy or couldn’t work around the kitchen, he could to a point.  But Benedict was still aloof, like his personality, even with flour on his nose and some of the cookies burned from the bottom.  Yet it was still fun to bake with him, he knew how to make the evenings light or the early mornings genuine.  Baking alone was always fun, but now having another person to bake with was even better.

Even one evening in December, he made some freshly baked muffins on a plate to give you as you were curled up in your favorite chair with a book in hand.  But when he placed the plate in front of you, you saw a small velvet box in the middle of the muffins, making you cry as he knelt on one knee.  

Now, in the swelting heat of summer and your wedding coming around the corner in the late fall, you were experimenting with cookie and cupcake recipes that you would use in your reception at the dessert table.  You were a bit stressed about it, looking through plenty of baking books and recipes online to find the right dessert for your big day.  Your fiancé knew you were under a bit of pressure in that department, the rest of the tasks when it came to the wedding seemed not as stressful.  He hoped in plenty of the decisions and booking the vendors, the venue was his mother’s back garden.  

“It was delicious, my love,” he reasoned as he kissed your cheek and you moved a bit of the crumbs that were left on his chin off with a swish of your thumb, “New recipe?”

“I found it online, but I’m not sure if I like it or not,” He explained, dusting off your fingers on your baking apron, “I’m still on a hunt for a good lavender blackberry cake that I want to make for your mother as a Mother-In-Law gift!”

“I’m sure my mother would like anything you bake her, and she does,” Benedict explained as he wrapped you in his arms and tucked you in close, “Whatever you decide to make for our day, it’ll be amazing, just like you.”

He tucked his finger under your chin to lift your lips up to meet his.    Having this small moment, the kitchen semi-destroyed in baking tools and ingredients, in your cramped little kitchen of the apartment you both have been sharing together, it was perfect.  You both had plans for your future after the wedding, wanting to travel together as a newly married couple and see the world past the little town you grew up in.  You wished to take new culinary classes to sharpen your baking skills, and Benedict was going to look for a bigger apartment, even a townhouse, for you two to perhaps grow your family further down the road. 

But for now, for this small moment, you were happy.

Benedict pulled away and smiled widely at you, his bright blue eyes looking even brighter as he found your voice, “How about you and I have a movie night in, and I can order us an extra large, extras cheese pizza along with that bottle of wine Colin and Penelope gave you,”

“Oh, I’ve been. Looking forward to opening that for weeks!  Sounds lovely,” You replied in a hum pecking his lips one more time before he started helping you clean some of the pans and measuring cups.  You were looking forward to this kind of slow Sunday with him, every slow Sunday even, as long as Benedict was at your side. 

Your mother-in-law, Violet Bridgerton, loved her Blackberry Lavender cake you made especially for you, along with the card you gave her with the news of your pregnancy.  

The End

[ghostfanwriter]

💖🧰 Dirty hands pt 3 🧰💖

Part one Part two

💖 Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x Virgin!Fem!Reader

🧰 Synopsis: Joel keeps finding reasons to stay in Lincoln. And you worry about the day he leaves, but he makes sure to show you how special this whole thing also is for him.

💖 Features: 🔞, fluffy and domestic Joel, Joel fixing things for her, masturbation (m and f), soft — so soft — (kinda dom) Joel, praise, pet names, quick cumplay (for poor Joel's desperation), sprinkles of angst here and there (I hurt my own feelings sometimes).

🧰 Word count: 9.5k. I'm so no sorry about this.

💖 About this: It took me forever to find this story, but I'm so, so glad it came out how it did. This series is gonna be a bit longer than I planned, but I have some real cool ideias for the next parts. Hope you're in with me ❤️

🧰 Author's note: Life really got in the way of this series, besties, but I came out alive. I'm really happy so many of you are as engaged with this story as I am, I love them so much. I just want a domestic, fluffy, soft Joel for myself 😩🤧

Good reading, besties 🩷🫶🏻

'You're always up with the sun.'

Bill's sentence made Joel sleep with his curtains open that night. Even with all the reasons why his mind told him he shouldn't pursue you, even with the potential death trap he was jumping into.

He couldn't not think about you. He couldn't not want to be with you.

He couldn't treat you like he felt he needed to. Couldn't dismiss you or break your heart. He had to make this experience as good as he could for you. It was only fair.

He would feel horrible if you never wanted to meet anyone else ever again because an old man made you cry.

So even with all the reasons he had to just forget about your and leave Lincoln the next day, he chose to keep his curtains open instead. To let the sun wake him up, so he could see you first thing in the morning.

He remembered the day he arrived, when Bill was showing him his bedroom and he saw you hugging Frank on your bed. Your grumpy and sleepy face, your messy hair, your clothes.

It made him smile again, and this time he allowed himself to. He let the feeling that was blooming inside his chest to make its point, to show him that there was an option outside of the QZ. That maybe he could stay.

Could stay with you.

Sure, making Bill lower his guard shouldn't be easy. But he could work on that; show him that he didn't want anything wrong or inappropriate with you.

That he wanted to take care of you like you deserve. Care for you like you're his.

Have you as his.

As the sunlight filled his room, he woke up and washed his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror, last night memories floating around his mind.

He could almost feel you again, your warmth against his chest, as your body contorted and you made such pretty sounds for him. Then your soft hands stroking him, curiously roaming over his stomach and chest, how good it felt to be so close to someone again.

Not that him and Tess had ever stoped to have sex. They still did it, but not as a way to share anything, not to feel anything. Rather as a way to dismiss the bad feelings they had. They just dumped all the negativity of their lives into one another.

With you he didn't want to release anything. He wanted to gather everything he could from you, to make you feel as good as he could, without thinking about what he'd get from it.

He wanted to know you were happy, satisfied, taken care of.

He shook the thoughts as he felt them placing roots all over his heart, knowing that when the day arrived and he had to leave Lincoln, you'd be the main pebble on his shoe.

Halfway down the stairs he could already smell breakfast being prepared. He had peeked in your room, and, having not found you, he knew you'd probably be the one in the kitchen.

And he was right. As he gets close to the door, he can hear you humming one of the songs you played on the piano the previous night.

The image of himself playing a guitar while you played the piano flashed in his mind again, making his eyes soften as he looks at you.

You're wearing yet another summer dress. One even prettier than the one from the day he arrived.

He swears you look prettier everyday.

You turn around, jumping when you see him watching you from the door frame.

"Oh — God." You gasp with a laugh, almost dropping the pan in your hand.

"Morning." He says, laughing.

"Morning... Joel." You say, your voice small. Suddenly, you can feel your cheeks warm up, and it feels like all the blood in your veins came to them.

You stare at him, remembering the night before. How he touched you — or how he made you touch yourself. How you touched him, how almost ethereal the whole experience felt.

Part of you was afraid to bring it up and learn it was all a dream.

All of you was embarrassed, awkwardly standing with a pan in your hand, staring at him, not knowing how to interact with him after the night before.

You take a sharp breath in when he rushes towards you, getting confused when he walks past you, turning around to find him quickly removing a pan out of the stove.

You put the pan in your hand down at the table and run to the one in his hand, your scrambled eggs burnt at the bottom.

"At least there's more texture to them now." He says with a laugh, and you look up at him, an embarrassed smile on your face. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, I am. Just... Gonna have to switch pans now, and what's gonna be left of them isn't going to be enough for all of us, and this is gonna be horrible to wash, and—" Your rambling is cut by his soft and low whisper.

"Baby." He calls, and you look up, finding his eyes as soft as ever. "Not talking about the eggs." He says while staring into your eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm... Good. Different, in a way. I mean, I don't know how to talk to you, or not make this super awkward." You mutter.

"It's not awkward. Are you... Okay with what happened, or—"

"No, no. I'm fine! It's not like that, no. I... I loved it. I just... I just don't know how to... I don't know it just feels weird." You stutter, feeling like you're embarrassing yourself.

"A good weird, then?" He laughs.

"Yes, a good weird." You agree. "What about you?"

"Long time since I've felt this good, baby. Was just worried about you."

"No, I'm good. No need to worry." You say shyly. "Well, expect my breakfast is ruined." You laugh, and he stares you for a second.

"Ever heard of Chef Boyardee?"

"No." You respond laughing.

"Well, he's gonna save your breakfast. Let me just grab it real quick." He says, putting the pan down and rushing upstairs.

...

He comes back after a minute, two cans in his hands.

"I was afraid Boyardee was your alter ego." You say, reading the name on the can.

"I'd never dare to compare." He says, bringing his hand to his chest in a fake humble gesture.

He opens the cans, and you two start cooking together. He insists to wash the burnt pan, as long as you watch chef Boyardee up close as it heats up in the stove while you make some orange juice.

Bill stops on his tracks when he sees you two in the kitchen. Cooking, making juice, brewing coffee, talking and laughing.

He smiles seeing how happy you are, seeing maybe he didn't made the wrong decision when he let Joel in his house.

"Our baby's growing up. Weird to think about that, right? It was never a thought before." Frank whispers from behind him, hugging him and snuggling his chin on Bill's shoulder.

"She is my baby. And it ain't Joel that's gonna change that." He replies, caressing Frank's forearm.

"She's not ours, Bill. Maybe the day's coming when we need to let her go, make her life." He says.

"Well, she can make her life inside these fences. Definitely not with Jo—" His rant cut by your short lived scream.

"It's not burning!" You defend yourself.

"Not the ravioli!" Joel fake cries, laughing as you desperately stir the ravioli in the pan, smoke coming out of the sauce, almost catching on your face.

Bill walks into the kitchen, his always heavy steps even heavier to announce his presence.

"What happened?" He asks, his eyes wide when he sees you close to the smoke.

"Oh, daddy... Joel's a disaster in the kitchen." You laugh.

"I was just washing the pan, you were supposed to watch the stove!" Joel defends himself, laughing, lifting the pan to show it to you. "If you didn't burn this one we wouldn't be going through all this right now."

You've never seen Joel laughing like this, and happiness looked good on him. You liked how his nose scrunched when he laughed and how tiny his eyes got.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he allowed himself to goof around, make jokes and just have fun.

"It's your fault! I never want you in the kitchen with me again." You say.

"Oh, you're finishing this?" He mentions the pan in his hand.

"No no no, that was your fault. You clean it." You say, turning back to your dad. "Sorry, daddy. Good morning, are you okay?" You ask, going to Bill and wrapping him in a tight hug that he's eager to correspond.

"Morning, my love." He whispers on top of your head as he squeezes you, his hand holding the back of your head protectively. His suspicious stare watching Joel.

"We're having canned ravioli for breakfast?" Frank asks laughing, slightly grossed out.

"Chef Boyardee." Joel playfully corrects him.

"We were gonna have scrambled eggs, but Joel burned them." You say and Joel laughs in defeat, shooting you a playful look. "So yeah, canned ravioli. Promise I'll cook us something nicer for lunch." You say, hugging Frank and kissing his cheek. "Morning, dad."

...

Your dads sit across from one another. You're across from Joel, your right foot is between his feet and he's running his boots lazily up and down your ankles. You can't stop smiling because of it.

"So, Joel. I was thinking we could start with the east side and work towards the gates?" Bill asks, breaking the comfortable silence — only broken before to compliment Chef Boyardee — that was set while you all ate.

"Sure. Just have some other thing l have to work on before the fence, if that's okay? We're still gonna have plenty of sunlight when I'm done. Should be quick." He says while still chewing, stuffing back his mouth right after he's finished.

"What other thing?" Bill asks, not remembering asking Joel to fix anything else that day.

"She told me about these broken doors on her bathroom cabinet. Said they're loud and don't close properly." He says, looking at you, his feet moving higher on your calves, soothing you.

"Baby, didn't I tell you I'd fix your cabinet?" Bill asks, angry to imagine Joel inside your bathroom, even angrier to imagine you going after someone else for help.

"You did. But you never fixed it. So I asked Joel and he said it should be quick." You shrug, playing along with Joel, his legs caressing yours in a reassuring way.

You didn't even know Joel was gonna fix something in your bathroom, you never told him anything about your cabinets.

Bill grunts, and Frank tries to soothe him with a sympathetic look.

You were the most important thing he had, and he didn't like the idea of you not needing him anymore.

"So, love, your dad and I were wondering, what do you think of a bonfire?" Frank asks, trying to dismiss the topic, and you smile.

"A bonfire?" You ask excited, your gaze going from Frank to Bill, and you catch a glimpse of Joel's smile on your way.

"Well, I have some spare wood, and we're gathering a bunch of things we don't need with all the fixings we're doing." Bill explains, looking at Joel, who nods. "Your dad just wanted to call it a bonfire." Bill finishes, looking at Frank, a fake annoyance in his face while he smiles at his husband.

"And you loved my idea, didn't you, honey?" Frank asks, trying to win his case.

"Oh, it sounds so fun." You giggle, and you can feel Joel squeezing your calves softly.

"A bonfire!" Frank says triumphantly. Eating another spoonful of ravioli. "This is actually really good, Joel!"

"Told you." Joel said laughing.

As soon as you're done eating Frank offers to wash the dishes and you and Joel go upstairs, Bill watching you both with concerned eyes.

...

"When did you see the doors were broken?" You ask when he walks in your room with a chest of tools, following him into your bathroom.

"When, baby?" He asks with a laugh, raising one eyebrow. Like you didn't know he was in your bathroom the night before. Like you don't remember having him in your arms, hoping that one day he'd be yours.

"No, I know when. I just mean exactly when. I never told you about it." You say, sitting on top of your toilet to watch him work.

"When I was looking for a product to clean the sink. This door made a terrible sound." He explains.

You watch as he kneels on the floor and starts unscrewing the door, cleaning and oiling its parts before screwing them back together.

"So, how's life in the QZ?" You ask when he starts working.

"Not much about it, nothing you're missing out on, for sure."

"Then why are you still living there?" You ask and he looks up at you, the crease between his eyebrows and the way his eyes wander around showing you he doesn't have a clear answer for that question.

"Not that simple, baby." He scrunches his nose. "Told your dad, we've got things there that you don't have here. Things we — grunts — need."

You smile seeing his face contort as he has to use more force to unscrew a particularly rusty part. You notice his arms flexing under his denim shirt, how strong his hands look, making his tools seem small in them. How he grunts when he makes a final effort to remove the screw.

Your heartbeat speeds up before you can stop it, and you only notice that he's staring at you when you hear him chuckle.

"And do they just give you those things? My dads say they used to have to work to gain money, and they'd trade money for things they wanted." You ask, trying to dismiss the blood burning your cheeks.

"Wasn't Frank in a QZ for a long time?" He asks.

"He was. But he doesn't like talking about it. Says I don't need to know about it." You respond. Even though Frank was way more laid back than Bill, he also had his ways to guard you from things he thought he needed to. "But I want to know about it." You add, seeing Joel's reluctancy in keep telling you about it.

"We also work there, not for money, but it's still a trade system. We can get food, medicine, parts, clothes. Whatever we need."

"Do you have nice clothes there?" You ask with more excitement than you wished to. You know it's futile, but you sometimes wish you had different clothes to wear. He chuckles before answering.

"I mean..." He mentions himself, and you turn your head.

"I think you look good." You say honestly and he smiles.

"Your clothes are much prettier than the ones there, baby. You're not missing out."

"You like my clothes?" You ask, your voice small.

"Love them. Never saw no one dress like you since this whole thing started." He whispers, sitting back on his heels and watching you with adoring eyes.

You look out the bathroom door, your bedroom door closed. No noise outside.

You bend down, kissing him softly on the lips. His left hand caresses the nape of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

"Wanna help me choose my dress for the bonfire?" You suggest when you break the kiss.

"My honor." He whispers over your lips, giving them a peck and letting you go.

...

You come back inside the bathroom with two dresses, both on their hangers.

"Okay, so we'll go by elimination. What do you think of these?" You ask, holding each dress in a hand. He's kneeled on the floor, fixing the cabinet, but he turns his torso, carefully analyzing the dresses over his shoulder.

"Blue one." He says.

"Yeah. This one's a bit too summery, too sunny." You agree, and he raises his eyebrows, nodding and humming before turning back to the cabinet.

"And what kind of jobs you do there?" You ask Joel while going back to your closet, picking the next option.

"All kinds you don't wanna know about, trust me. There's nothing about that place that's worth knowing, nothing good except those walls." He says.

You come back with the winner dress and another option, sitting on your bathtub's edge.

"Well, not when you're in it. Then there's at least one good thing." You say low with a smile, poking him with your foot, and you can see the shy smile that flashes in his face as he quickly squeezes your calves.

"Tess and I we... Leave the QZ from time to time, which you're not supposed to do, to look for things we can trade for other things. Not always for nice things, but we can always trade them again for something better."

"You're smugglers." Frank says out thin air, startling you. "Which isn't bad, I mean, the best stuff I had at the QZ came from smugglers." He adds seeing Joel's worried expression. "Tess told me about it. Told me about the kind of things you two give to guards. Not anything we need here, but maybe you'd know where to find some things for us?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure. Depending on what it is, it shouldn't be hard to find." Joel says.

"Oh! We were talking about having more fruits, right, dad? Strawberries, watermelons. Think you could find some, Joel?"

"Would have to look around, but it's not impossible." He says, making a mental note of finding you those as soon as he has the chance.

The thought of leaving Lincoln to look for things you want plays in the back of his mind, the scenario making him smile softly while looking at you.

"Speaking of Tess..." Frank interrupts his daydreams. "...she's on the radio. Wants to talk to you, seems important. She asked you to bring a pen and paper with you." He finally says what he came in to say.

Joel looks at you, a deep crease between his eyebrows, despite his overall relaxed expression. If you're really starting to know him, the crease means he's worried.

He gets up with a muted grunt.

"Oh, Joel! Which one?" You ask before he leaves.

He looks back and forth between the dresses, pressing his lips, trying to picture you in both of them. He likes how tight on top the blue one looks like, how flowy it looks on the legs.

"Blue again." He answers with a smile. "Be right back." He says directly to you before turning around, walking out the bathroom and thanking your dad for calling him.

Frank sits by your side, carefully walking around Joel's tools.

"What do you think of the blue one?" You ask him, caressing the dress.

"Hm, thought you wouldn't want my opinion." He says almost bitterly, despite his playful smile.

"Why? You always help me choose my dresses." You say, furrowing your eyebrows, his expression softening.

Deep down he felt the same as Bill.

You always needed them, always looked for them for guidance, advice, help, comfort, love. It hurt to think of you not needing them anymore, of losing you.

"Nothing." He says quietly.

"Are you upset because I asked for Joel's opinion?" You ask, and he realizes just how silly the feeling is. You're just picking a dress.

"Well I... Argh, I am, love. Can't lie to you." He hugs your side, squeezing your head on his chest playfully. "You don't need my help anymore, you're not my baby anymore." He says dramatically, making you laugh.

"Oh, no! I don't love you anymore, dude. Let go of me!" You playfully say, acting like you're trying to get away from him but ultimately snuggling even closer to his chest.

"I love you. I'll always asks for your opinions on my dresses." You laugh.

"Well, to be fair. The blue one is the prettiest between those two." He admits. "How are things between the two of you?"

"Great. He's so nice." You say with a silly smile.

"Can tell you look happier. And so does he. Never seen him laugh like I saw this morning." He says.

You remember his face when he arrived. Serious and suspicious of everything about the town. How you only saw him smile three times that day; when you two met, when you said you were going to bed and when he saw you with Frank.

But as soon as you think about that day your chest tightens.

Tess.

She came with him. For some reason didn't stay. Was she looking for something while he was there, or did she return to the QZ? Was she coming over? She said she and Joel were just friends, but what if they weren't?

You whimper softly, your stomach hurting out of a sudden.

"You okay, love?" Frank asks, pulling away to look at your face.

"Yeah, just... Do you know what Tess wants with Joel?"

"She didn't say, love. Maybe she just wants to know why he didn't go back to the QZ yet."

"Wasn't he going to stay here for a while? To help you and dad?" You ask, confused.

"Well, yes. But she didn't know that. He was supposed to leave yesterday." He said, caressing your arm with his thumb. "But he kept finding reasons to stick around. New things that need fixing, the car's weird noise, now the whole fence. I wonder what — or who — made him want to stay." He squeezes your arm and you smile shyly.

"But why does she care?" You ask, an unexpected annoyance in your voice.

"Darling... Joel and Tess they... They used to be a couple." He says, careful, like he could see his words stabbing you. "She cares about him. She's worried, she doesn't know us, maybe something could've happened to him."

"Do you think he cares about her too?" You know it's a stupid question. Of course he does. It's Joel.

But it hurts to imagine him doing to her the same he did to you. Sharing the same.

Frank gives you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening and his lips falling open, like he's thinking of what to tell you.

"Do you think I'm silly, dad? Do you think he's just gonna leave and never come back?" You ask, thinking about what him and Tess must be talking about.

"I don't know, love. I heard him and dad talk about some of the houses in here." He sighs.

Should he even be telling you that?

'Is he thinking about staying?' You ask yourself, your puppy eyes making Frank kiss your forehead lovingly.

"Only he can tell you that, my dove."

Sometimes you think your dad can read your mind.

You think about what Joel told you.

'We've got things there that you don't have here.'

Could he ever not live in the QZ? Would he ever want that?

"But can I give you an advice?" He asks softly and you nod. You're taking any help you can. "Slow down a bit. Don't think too ahead, don't nourish any hopes or fears about what's gonna happen." He says, looking deeply into your eyes. "Joel has his life outside, you can't forget that. I really, really, my love, hope you don't come out hurt of all of this. And the only way for it not to happen is you being careful. Don't engage in feelings he hasn't displayed to you."

"Don't create expectations then?" You ask, trying to make sense of his words.

"Yes, sweetheart. Feel your feelings, but don't ever run over them. Don't expect what you want to happen to turn out exactly how you wish." He adds. "Like about him staying. Don't expect it but also don't suffer thinking it's impossible before he tells you exactly what he's thinking. Don't put yourself through unnecessary pain."

Before you can say anything else Joel walks back in, a mix of annoyance and worry contorting his face, that softens instantly as his eyes find you.

"Blue one?" He asks with a silly smile and you nod, an even sillier one in your face.

"Blue one."

...

It's hard to follow your dad's advice.

Because it hurts too much to think of not seeing him anymore.

And that's exactly what you do for the rest of the day.

You watch him fix the fences with your dads while you hurt your own feelings, thinking about him leaving, about him with Tess, about him doing to her what he did to you. What you only did with him.

It hurts to think maybe he doesn't care about you the same way you care about him. Because you can't stop thinking about him. You're more attached than you ever thought you'd be to anyone besides your parents.

It hurts to think about him leaving you...

...forgetting about you.

He noticed how quiet you were during dinner — it was quite hard not to. And he found strange just how much he missed you, even though you were right in front of him.

How you didn't make any silly jokes or laughed at the ones your dads made. How you didn't give him your leg when he reached for it under the table, like he did during breakfast. How you wouldn't catch his gaze when he looked at you.

He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger in exactly what happened.

After dinner you kissed your dads goodnight and went straight to bed, no piano, no songs, no anything, despite their protests.

Maybe something happened while he was fixing the fences with Bill. He hadn't seen you since he left your bathroom.

"Is something wrong with her?" He asks your dads as soon as you go upstairs. They both shrug, and Bill can't help but wonder... Why does he even care?

You brush your teeth and lie on your bed, throwing a pitty party for yourself, feeling silly for engaging in such unrealistic expectations.

Joel had his life in the QZ...

...with Tess.

He wouldn't just give everything up for you, to stay in Lincoln.

It's hard to follow what Frank told you, to not feel bad, to ignore the discomfort in your stomach everytime you thought about Joel.

You quiet your thoughts when he opens your bedroom door — that you never seem to lock anymore —, finding you laying on your bed, almost curled in a ball, your back facing the door. Trying to keep your eyes dry.

He walks in carefully to not startle you, going around the bed to see if you're awake.

Your eyes start watering as soon as you see him.

"Hey, baby." He says softly, squatting next to you, keeping his distance. "What happened?" He didn't need you to say you weren't okay, he already knew that. He just needed to know what got you like that.

You don't say anything, aware that any words you said would make you cry.

"Can I sit with you?" He whispers, still not touching you.

You nod, moving your hips back to give him room to sit. You knew that no matter how much you tried to stay away, you'd feel him pulling you close, like there's a magnetic field between you two.

He sits down in front of your stomach and you pull your thighs closer to his back, keeping him close to you.

He moves his hand slowly, giving you time to push him away, gently touching your hair, pulling it behind your ear.

"Do you wanna talk?" He asks, his voice softer than ever.

"Do you?"

"I want to do whatever you want, baby." He whispers, caressing your hair, almost making you sleepy.

"I want you to stay with me."

"I can stay until you fall asleep. But I can't sleep here with you." He responds.

Not the stay you were thinking about. But it works for now, and you're glad he didn't pick up on it.

"Can you lie with me?" You ask shyly.

You weren't mad at him. You were just afraid to get too attached — even more than you already were, and to suffer too much when he left.

But you can't deny yourself what you're craving.

"Anything you want, baby." He leans down to press a kiss on your temple, bringing his hand to your hips, squeezing you gently and turning you around, your back facing him.

"Is this okay?" He asks, laying down sideways behind you, staying away and not touching you.

"Uhum."

He supports himself on his elbow and strokes your hair gently.

"Are you cold?" He asks, touching your cold arm, and you nod. He sits up and grabs your blanket by the end of your bed, covering you with it and supporting himself back on his elbow.

He's far from you, and you scoot back closer to him, pulling the blanket that's pooling between you two over him.

"Wearing my shoes, baby." He says, afraid of getting your blanket dirty. He kicks his boots away and and moves his body closer to yours.

Dropping his head on the pillow behind you, he slides his left arm underneath your head, letting you use it as a pillow. He hugs you and curl his legs, curling yours along. Fully spooning you.

In a way it reminded you of when you were a child and your dads would let you sleep in between them during a thunderstorm. How the same feeling of calm and safety takes over you.

You do your best to snuggle into him and find comfort in the new position, eventually relaxing into his arms as his right hand comes underneath your face, cupping your left cheek, pillowing it. You snuggle your face on his hand, kissing his palm gently.

You indulge in the intimacy you two are sharing. In how warm you got because of him, how his calloused hand feels under your cheek, how your bodies seem to fit in perfectly within one another.

How you can subtly feel his heartbeat against your back, how you try to match your breathing with his, enjoying the way his chest raises and falls behind you. How his smell invades your nose, how his hot breath sends chills down your spine, how his strong arms hold you so tight.

You stay tangled for a while before you gather the courage to talk to him.

"Joel?" You ask gently and he hums in response. "Can I ask you something... about Tess?" You almost whisper, afraid of ruining everything.

"Sure, baby. What about her?" He responds, his thumb caressing the skin under your eye.

"Are you two dating?" You ask but regret instantly as you feel him chuckle behind you.

He gives your face a light squeeze before turning it for you to look at him. You feel vulnerable with him being so overpowering, moving you so effortlessly, his body engulfing yours so nicely...

"Is it because she called me earlier?" He asks, a smile on his face as he brings you back to reality. You only nod, not sustaining his gaze anymore. "Do you think I'd be here with you if we were together? Think I'd do this to her? To you? Lie to you like that?"

"I don't know." You whisper, hating how weak your voice sounds, barely making its way out of your mouth.

"Baby, Tess and I we... We were a couple, haven't been for a long while now." He explains, sincerity spread all over his face.

"Did you do to her what we did last night?" You ask, your stomach turning to imagine him doing that to someone else.

Realistically, you knew he had. But it still hurt to think about it.

"No, baby. Not what we did yesterday. That I never did to nobody." He answers and you look away from his soft eyes. "I'm not lying." He squeezes your cheek gently, making you look back at him. "Yesterday it was all about you, making you feel good. And sex with Tess was about releasing frustrations, sadness, anger. Distracting myself." He explains. "I'd never dump those negative feelings on you. I wanna make you feel good, wanna see and hear you feel good. I loved doing it, but it wasn't about me. It was all about you." He says softly, his eyes wandering from your eyes to your lips.

It feels like you're melting in his arms. His words disarming you entirely, making you want to feel him again. To share that again.

"Can you kiss me?" You ask, hope coating your request.

"Anything you want, angel." He whispers as he lowers himself, gently connecting his lips to yours.

The tingling of his beard on your face makes you lean in further onto him, pulling him lower on top of you as you lie back down.

You open your mouth, kissing his lower lip, making him deepen the kiss, rolling his tongue around yours, and gently grabbing a fistful of your hair.

His tongue tangling with yours make your insides burn with need, and your hips instinctively roll against his crotch, making you moan when you feel his still soft cock inside his pants. His hand comes from your hair to your waist, holding you still.

"Baby." His voice sound deep and aroused as he breaks the kiss, softly panting as he talks to you. "We don't have to do anything. We can go slow, slower than we're going. I'd love to just lie down with you tonight." He stares softly at you, his thumb caressing your belly.

"I want you, Joel. Want to feel you before you leave." You say, cursing at yourself when you realize what you've just said.

"Not going anywhere, baby." He promises, furrowing his brows before kissing you again, deeper and more passionately, making you moan into his mouth, his hand exploring your curves and your stomach, its roughness erupting chills on its tracks.

You can't stop your hand from reaching for him when he grabs one of your breasts, gently massaging it through your shirt. He pulls back when you touch his crotch.

"You first, angel." He says, removing your hand and kissing your neck. Then your shoulder, your collarbone. His hand softly pulls on the hem your shirt.

"Can I?" You respond by removing it, laying back down, your back still facing him, your hand reaching back for his hair, running your fingers through it.

His hand finds your breasts again, kneading them before he lifts himself behind you, sliding underneath your right arm to place ghostly kisses first around them, circling his way closer to your nipple, looking into your eyes for any reluctancy before he moves any further.

Not finding any and feeling how you pulled gently on his curls, he licks around your nipple once, still looking into your eyes. When you moan, he takes it in his mouth, humming at its softness. You whimper at how his beard scratches your skin.

The new and soft sensation of his tongue on you makes your clit burn between your legs, that you're pressing against one another, looking for some release for the almost painful need you're feeling.

He squeezes your hips, gently at first, but more and more firmly as you pull on his hair, his lips sucking tightly around your nipple, opening and closing around it, like he's trying to drink from it.

"More, Joel. Please." You whimper, your head spinning as you drown in simultaneous under and over stimulation.

"Want me to touch you, baby? Wanna feel my fingers on you?" He asks, letting go of your nipple, his voice breathy and raspy, and you whimper in response. "Would love to feel you, baby. Know you're so wet for me already. Wanna make you cum on my fingers." He says while tracing kisses from your breast to the back of your shoulder.

"Yes, please. Yes, Joel." You say eagerly, desperately almost. Making him laugh amusedly and spread your legs, pulling your right one over his hips. Slowly running his hand from your hip to your mount, the mere warmth of his hand making you grind against it.

"So desperate, baby. Gonna take my time, make you feel so good." He pants on your neck, lowering his hand even more, drawing soft circles around your clothed clit, earning weak whimpers and moans from you. "Let's take this off." He says, pulling on your pijama shorts, and you lift your hips to help him.

He pulls your leg back over his hips and caresses you through your panties for a bit, running his middle and index fingers up and down your folds, teasing at your entrance, softly pressing on it.

He palms your folds, gently squeezing your pussy. "So good, baby." He praises, his lips never leaving your neck. He runs his fingers of the elastic of your panties, playing with it. "Is this okay?" He asks, his fingers carefully sliding underneath them.

Your moan is enough of a green light.

His rough fingers make their way under your underwear, ghosting over your mount, then your folds. Finally finding the crease between them, gently touching your clit before spreading your folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

"Dripping already, baby. We haven't even started yet." He teases, nibbling at your ear and making you giggle. He laughs behind you. "Goddammit, baby, I..."

He stops himself with a grunt before he says too much, before he lets out something he's been pondering on, a feeling he's not managing to prune as it grows roots inside him.

He circles your clit again, just his middle finger rolling lazily over it. He uncovers it from the skin on top of it, making your whole core burn for him, the rough textured of his fingers on such a sensitive spot making you pull away with a whine.

"Sorry, baby. Too much?" He asks, kissing your shoulder, and you whimper in response, getting close to him again. "It's okay. We won't ever do anything that doesn't feel good."

He goes to your entrance and draws circles over it, slowly pushing the tip of his middle finger inside you.

"This okay?" Comes out in a whisper on your neck.

You love how he's always making sure you're enjoying what he's doing. Always checking in on you.

"More, Joel." You manage to put out.

"Okay, but just one, alright? We can work on two later." He says and you nod. You just need something from him.

He french kisses and bites on your shoulder while he pushes in, your walls engulfing him. You moan when his finger goes fully inside you.

It's so much bigger than yours.

He groans as he spreads his palm over your pussy, squeezing it quickly before gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

"You feel so good, baby. So tight around my finger." His breath fans on your neck, and you have to swallow back a loud moan when he curls his finger, just like he taught you last time, hitting an even deeper spot than you managed to.

"Shh, real quiet, angel." His thumb finds your clit and he caresses it lazily, his finger moving slowly against your walls, your hips moving to try and ease the burn.

You feel his erection against your ass and your hand looks for him, grabbing him through his pants, earning a grunt, moaning when you feel how hard he is.

"Wanna feel you cum like this, can you try that for me, baby?" He asks while he fasten his movements, each thrust deeper and faster, each curl tighter and each circle around your clit more desperate. His hips bumping against your hand while you try to work him.

"Joel." You moan softly when your body starts contorting around him, your core burning as your hips move against his hand. "Please, let me do it." You plead, struggling to open his belt with just one hand.

"Fuck." He curses while he lets go of you, desperately opening his belt and freeing himself. He helps you remove your panties before carefully pulling you back in his arms, spooning you. His left arm underneath your head as his right arm pulls your leg over his hips again, his cock pressing against your ass, his hips grinding against you.

You stroke him slowly, spreading his precum all over his length, giving a special attention to his tip.

Just like he taught you. His grunts a sign you've learned just right.

His hands return their work, one on your pussy while the other alternates between caressing your hair and kneading your breasts, and you can feel his strong arm contracting underneath your face as he moves.

He notices your hand around him and your breathing both getting more erratic, an almost painful look in your face.

"Relax, cum for me, baby, let me feel you. I'm right here, I've got you, just let it come." He coos, and you twist your hand around him, making him thrust into it.

Being so close, so tangled, so vulnerable with him overtakes you, and your orgasm builds like a wave, slow and steady before crashing against your core, making you forget everything that wasn't Joel.

His smell, his warmth, his hot breath on your neck, his sounds, his rough fingers, his hardness.

You bite his arm that's under your head in an attempt to quiet yourself as he engulfs you with it, holding you tight and close to him, whispering praises and curses on your ear, thrusting slower and deeper into your hand.

"There we go. Feels so good around my finger, baby." He coos while you contort under his embrace.

He grunts as you probably squeeze his cock a bit too hard while you cum.

"Even prettier like this, my pretty girl." He praises as he pulls out of you, your arousal leaking all over your leg and butt.

"Making such a pretty mess for me, baby, look at this. You're gonna feel so good around me, angel." He thrusts into your hand again and shows you his finger, glistening and wrinkled from being inside you for so long, coated in your juices.

He sucks on it, furrowing his brows and humming at your taste, an amused smile on his face. His hips buck forward while he laughs, looking adoringly down at you.

"Taste so, so good, my baby, goddammit." He pants, and you wanna see him do it again, so you let go of him and gather some of your juices, bringing your fingers to his mouth.

He's quick to suck around them, rolling his tongue around your fingers and giving you a peck on the lips.

He thrusts forward again and his cock slides against your folds, making you both moan. "Hmm. Thank you, angel." He smiles on your lips, spraying kisses on your collarbone and your throat, his hips moving at a slow pace, savoring how you feel against his cock.

"So soft. So wet for me." He praises, hugging you, squeezing your waist and your breasts, moving his hips with more intent. Your belly clenching when his tip brushes against your sensitive clit.

"You like this, baby? Does it feel good? Feels real good to me." He breathes on your hair, his voice deep and raspy.

His right hand comes back underneath your face, and you snuggle against it, weakly bitting his palm and indulging on its texture against your skin.

It all feels amazing. The contrast between his rough, calloused hands and his soft, wet and warm cock rubbing against your pussy making you see stars. He feels so, so good.

"Feels so good, Joel." You moan.

"Close your legs real tight for me then, baby." He instructs and you do, pressing your thighs together, feeling his cock pulse between your legs. "There you go, good girl. Making me feel so good, baby." He says as he picks up his pace.

He fucks your folds for a while, grunting and moaning behind you as his cock opens it's way through them, spreading them and brushing his tip against your clit. The way his strong arms keep you close to him make you start rolling your hips instinctively against his cock.

He changes his pace to meet your hips, setting a passionate and deep rhythm, and you can hear the wet sound of your bodies pleasing one another when you move just slightly harder.

When you start to really enjoy yourself he suddenly stops, laying you on your back and climbing on top of you. He spreads your legs, making room for his broad frames between them.

He looks so big, so strong above you. You run your hands on his arms, frustrated that he's still fully clothed while you're so exposed for him.

Not that he makes you feel bad like this. No... It feels actually strangely good to be fully naked under a fully clothed Joel Miller.

He notices you mesmerized by him and just stand above you, kneeled between your legs, admiring your own exposed body.

To think that he did everything he's done to you without having to remove a single piece of his clothing is impressive.

But you need more, you want to see him, to feel his skin against yours. If feeling his hands and his mouth feels good, you know you're gonna be lost when you feel his bare chest and stomach burning your skin.

You undo the first button on his flannel, and he laughs.

"You look so sweet, so pretty, my baby." He praises, fixing your hair and leaning down to kiss first your cheek — right besides your nose, under your eye — , then another one on your lips. A sweet and lovingly kiss. You use the proximity to finish undoing his flannel, moaning frustrated when you notice the shirt underneath it.

You pull on it's hem, and thankfully he doesn't protest, just standing on his knees and letting you remove it.

You moan when you lie back down and look at him. He wonders if he's wrong when he sees the way you look at him.

As he got older and older people seemed to want to see his naked figure less and less. And to have you looking at him like that... Set a whole new branch of roots inside his heart.

You run your hands up his sides and his chest, and he closes his eyes at the feeling of your warm and soft hands. It's been a long, long time since he felt like this. You cup his cheeks and he lowers himself on top of you.

Having him on top of you is everything you hoped it'd be.

He's soft, warm and heavy.

So deliciously heavy.

You moan at the feeling and he holds himself higher, afraid to hurt you, but you pull him back, even lower, needing his weight to crush you.

You can't even breath properly, and you love it.

You wrap your arms around him, running your hands on his back and squeezing his shoulder blades. He does the same, his arms snaking underneath you, holding you like he was afraid you could ever think of going away from him.

If it was up to you, you'd never leave this bed again, this position, this man. Every kiss he places on your neck makes you roll your hips and squeeze him between your thighs.

He lifts himself a little and guides his cock between your folds again, spreading them apart and thrusting through them, pressing his cock against you with his thumb.

"Fuck." He pants as he slides his tip over your entrance. "Can't wait to be inside you, baby. Never gonna leave you again." He says, biting your jaw softly.

The promise makes its way to your heart, the thought of belonging to him, being with him, taking care of him and being taken care of consumes you, making you roll your hips on him.

"Please Joel. I'm ready, I want to." You plead, holding his arms.

He laughs.

"No, baby. You may be, but she's not. Look at this." He says as he presses his tip on your entrance, making you clench instinctively at the invasion and whine in pain. "You need to learn how to relax for me. Need to get used to being close to me like this. I need you to be sure about it." He says as he kisses your hand that's squeezing his shoulder.

"I am, I want you." You say, feeling as he slides the very tip of his tip inside you, grunting at how tight you feel around him. He thrusts slowly, just the tip going in and out of you.

And you have to give it to him... It feels like a lot. Even just his tip requires a considerable stretch, and the thought of having him almost carving your insides to make room for himself makes you clench around him.

"Shit — grunts — fuck, baby. See? She needs more time, I don't wanna hurt you." He says as he lowers himself to press a sweet kiss on your cheek, right besides your nose, pulling his tip out of you and sliding his cock through your folds again.

You moan when you feel his now much wetter tip brush against your clit.

He pulls your left leg up, bringing your knee close to your chest, caressing your thighs, not stoping his movements. You whimper as his weight sinks you down onto the mattress, and you wrap your arms around him, digging your nails on his shoulders, pulling away when he grunts from it.

"Sorry." You moan, afraid you've hurt him.

"No, baby. C'mon, squeeze me, it means you're liking it." He reassures you, thrusting slower and harder, pressing his hips deeper on top of you and bringing your other leg up.

"I wanna see it, Joel." You breath, holding firmly into his shoulders, your brows furrowed as you push him away, looking down where your bodies are connected.

"Yeah, baby? I love seeing it too. You look so pretty all spread for me like this, all ready and wet for me." He pants, touching his forehead to yours, looking down.

His hips get more erratic with every thrust, his hands supporting him up and squeezing you as he lowers himself on top of you again.

"Gonna make me cum, baby. But I wanna see you do it again, think you can do it for me?" He asks, his voice low.

"Yes." You moan, focusing on how good he feels rubbing against your core.

"There you are, such a good girl for me." He praises, kissing your neck, fastening his movements even more. "Gonna feel so good cumming under me, with my cock for the very first time, baby. Give it to me, c'mon." He says, moving your hair away from your face and cupping your cheeks.

The constant and relentless pace he sets along with his praises becomes too overwhelming, and you bite his shoulder to not scream when you cum, clenching and convulsing around air. Crying out in pleasure, droll dripping down his shoulder, tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. I know it feels so good, doesn't it?" He coos.

His hand that was on your cheek now supports your head up against him, caressing your hair softly, soothing you.

"Goddammit, baby. Can feel you pulsing on me." He says, staring down, watching himself slide through your dripping folds.

You only moan in response, letting go of his shoulder and kissing the deep mark your teeth left on it.

"Gonna cum for you, baby. You did so well for me, such a good — grunts — fucking girl. My... All mine." He stutters, not being able to form comprehensive sentences anymore. "Can't do it like this, no. Fucking can't." He pants before dropping to your side, stroking himself deep and fast.

You watch his strong torso as it raises and falls heavily, curses and senseless words falling from his lips.

But when he calls you... By your name, a breathy and passionate moan... You can't help it.

You reach for him, wrapping your hand around him.

"Fuck, just like last time, baby." He instructs before running his fingers through your hair and caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Such a pretty girl. I'm so fucking — grunts — lucky, angel."

His praise makes you fasten your movements, twisting your wrist around him and rolling your hand around his tip.

"Joel?" You call and he groans in response, looking at you. "Can I put it in my mouth this time?" You ask, using that goddamn voice to try and convince him.

"Jesus — no, baby. No mouth." He pants, fighting the words as they leave his mouth.

God, he loves how much you want to suck his cock. He fucking loves it.

You tighten your grip when you feel him pulse, craving more of the sensation.

"Shit — fuck. Like that, baby. Gonna make me cum for you."

When you feel him twitch and you see the first stream of cum spurt out his his tip...

...you forget everything he told you. You notice his eyes closed shut and lower yourself, opening your mouth in front of his tip, drawing a circle around his tip with your tongue.

He doesn't taste as bad as you remembered.

His hips immediately buck into your face, a gutural sound leaving his throat.

"I said no — grunts — fucking mouth, baby. Goddammit." He says, his hips thrusting up, his hand fisting your hair, but not pulling you away.

You keep licking around his tip while he cums, leaking into your mouth and your hand. You don't keep anything in your mouth, letting it all fall down on your hand and his crotch.

You look up at him and find his eyes on you. Instead of feeling shy, though, you smile, sucking around his tip for the first time, and he spurts one last time inside your mouth with a grunt.

"Fuck, baby. Felt so fucking good." He says when you feel him start softening in your hand. He fixes your hair lazily while you lick your lips, drinking what was dripping down your chin. "Doesn't taste gross anymore?" He teases, seeing how focused you are in drinking every drop of him that's on your face.

"Tastes better directly from you." You lie, only taking it into your mouth because you like how he looks at you when you do so, holding back a bitter expression when you taste more and more of his cum.

Although you have to admit... It does taste better than last time.

"Come up here, angel." He calls, pulling you on top of his chest. "You okay?" He asks while looking deep into your eyes.

You nod. Okay is nothing compared to how you feel right now.

You feel like you're floating, like you're in a transe, like jelly.

You kiss his chest, snuggling your face on him.

"Are you feeling better?" He whispers on top of your head, his hot breath on your hair.

"I feel so good, Joel."

"You do? And you're not gonna thank me, baby? I thought you had better manners than that." He teases, laughing softly underneath you, your body going up and down along with his chest.

"Thank you, Joel. Thank you too." You lightly tap his softening cock.

He laughs. There's the sillyness he missed during dinner.

The playfulness he knows he'll miss the most when he leaves you.

If he ever manages to leave you.

"Our honor, baby." He squeezes you tighter and kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around him, feeling sleepy already.

When he feels you soften on top of him and your breathing get softer, he softly scratches your head.

"Hey, baby. Can't sleep like this. Gotta clean you up." He whispers, rolling you on the bed, on your back, and kissing your pout with a smile before going to your bathroom.

You admire his naked figure. His strong back, his broad — so broad — shoulders, his strong legs. He looks like a sculpture, like a God, almost.

And you'd be lying if you said you couldn't describe what you feel for him as almost devotion.

Your blasphemies are cut when he walks back in, already clean, with a cloth in hands. He climbs on top of the bed and spread your legs, caressing your thighs.

"So pretty." He praises when he cleans you, softly to not hurt you. Laughing when the cloth touches your clit and your body jerks up.

He finishes and kisses your belly, right above your mount, going lower and pressing a kiss on your folds.

"Joel." You moan.

"Sorry, baby. Don't wanna make a mess again." He teases you, lifting himself.

"Can you do it? Put your mouth on her?" You ask, a new spark of arousal hitting you at the thought of his warm mouth on you.

"Can't wait to, baby. But not today. No. Now the only thing you're gonna do is sleep." He puts his pants and his shirt back on before grabbing your panties and your shirt.

He dresses you back up and lie down behind you, spooning you again, his right hand coming underneath your cheek, pillowing it.

You moan at how good it feels to be so close to him. At how vulnerable you can be with him, knowing he won't move one finger unless you're okay with it.

You fall asleep faster than any other night since he arrived, only waking up for a slip second when you feel him carefully letting go of you. And you feel colder, but you know he can't sleep with you.

He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering something muffled before leaving your bedroom.

...

When he lies on his bed he seals his fate. He can't stay way from you. He doesn't want to.

The whisper on your cheeks more a confession to himself than to you.

"I think I love you."

It reverberates in his chest, a feeling he thought could never bloom again in his infertile heart. A feeling only you could sow on him.

Please, please let me know what you think about it. I love reading your thoughts, reblogs, asks and comments on this series 🩷

Hope you liked it, have a wonderful day, besties ��🫶🏻

My Masterlist 🩷🪷

Been a long while since part two, so I'm tagging some people that seemed to really like this series so far 🫶🏻

@pedritoferg @cleopatra99 @samsamsantos @thecaptainpandabear @blooodmoonbarnes @yourwinchesterbros @walkintheprk @cruelfvkingsummer @laiisleitte

[gogolstoelicker]

Dorm leaders with a Razor!MC

a/n: totally lost the pookie who asked for this but if by some miracle yk its you, pls dont beat me up for taking so long </3 /j

also if tumblr did smth weird with the bullet points again, point ur guns at the app

its one week before my exams so im using my adrealine for smth!!

You are generally good-natured person who considers your wolf pack your family and becomes enraged if they are hurt by other parties. You love your wolf family but dislike the fact that you aren't fully like them. You considered the few humans you do encounter to be your friends and are willing to protect them from danger if it means sacrificing your and your pack's dinner for the night. You are a quick thinker. You are also honest and forthright due to your limited exposure to human life. You are not used to speaking and only speak in short phrases and words, finding it troublesome, but you continue nonetheless.

Riddle

my mans stopping you like this to take a look at your uniform

pookie, youre a lil messy rn -he said this in anger, I'm just giving you the nicer version

its ok, he helped you clean up a lil after!!

u absolutely trying not to mess up the collar and tie up bcs its so uncomfortable:😢😔

it always goes back to the messy version as soon as hes out of sight or its half the day already

he wont find out (i lied he absolutely did)

he can always count on u to tell him the truth should your friends ever do smth bad

"broke. chair." while pointing at ace and deuece

they have tears in their eyes as riddle approach them

honestly some of ur behaviour makes him go⁉️

fr thought u were a beastman or smth

then found out youre just a human whos lived with wolves their whole life

FUCKEKEKE REMEMBER THAT TIME IN HIS OVERBLOT WHEN HE WAS TALKING ABT PARENTS

u being an orphan as he goes on with his speech: /JOKE

ace beats his ass up for u its ok

him trying to figure out how they didnt try to eat u🤔

he didnt try to stop u but that wont mean he wont go😅😅

ALSO eat ur veggies pls

hes chasing u around heartslabyul trying to make u eat a wee bit of carrots

Leona

"veggies:( bad:(" "so real"

^ur real time convo

whenever youre given food with veggies, u pass it off to leona

leona then pass it to ruggie who then muched it off

he absolutely told u to give ruggie any veggies btw (free food for the man‼️)

ruggie is forever happy to receive free food

he actually thought u were a beastman too because of your scent

"r u a jack kinnie?" he would ask (he didnt ask it like that)

turns out you just got raised by them

idk savanaclaw might be an ok? place for u? considering most of them r beastman there

like its not even surprising to see u practicing with them every morning anymore

ruggie dragged both u and leona by the collar to practice btw

"im all the way in ramshackle" leona surprise adopted u to savanaclaw, dont resist /J

u surprisingly get along well with him‼️‼️

leona acting like he doesnt care abt the youngsters👴🙄 (hes failing)

he totally didnt take a nap with you in his usual spots, no who did that?? pft not him

no he did NOT save u from accidentally getting hurt by your friend's troubles btw no

also, he did not mind that you do not talk much

the less words the better for him!! he encourages this (he got beat up later by the people who thinks otherwise)

Azul

youre so simple, azul actually had a great time

"pls sign this contract to save ur friends" "ok:)"

well youre homeless now (not rlly u have a home in savanaclaw)

yk those super villains laughing evilly everytime their plans r going so well?? thats azul

he didnt even need to put many efforts in trying to trick u, u just go thumbs up at him

he does not feel bad btw

he does not care if youre a beastman or not. a business opportunity is all you'll ever be to him

maybe a friend too but you'll need to unlock friendship level 10 for that

can wolves swim underwater, im sayign yes for plot reasons

anyways u came back from trying to get the painting(?) picture (?) like a wet dog

im saying nonsense rn i think i need sleep its almost 1am

he threw his head back 90° to laugh dramatically at how u reminded him of a wet dog

this is a joke, do not come for me

honestly he had to drag u away from the lounge once bcs u tried catching the fishes in the aquarium

"MF LEAVE MY FISHES TF ALONE IF U WANT TO LIVE" is what he wouldve said if hes not a professional businessman

he is a professional guys do not worry💯

honestly, he is pretty ? that you had trouble speaking

after finding out its bcs youve been isolated from the human things, he kind of goes🤔

the business in his head is controlling him before he can stop them😖🫣

would u like a potion from him to help u with that problem<33

honestly head empty rn

Kalim

rhey all thought you were a beastman and he is not an exception

is def surprised bcs ur ass howled one time at a full moon

he witnessed that, he had the front row seat as witness

he lets u do ur thing its ok

even asked u if its family tradition HELP /J

"oh man u have such fluffy hair"

he said before trying to touch it and realising its literally tangled all over

him and jamil whos right next to him

were u raised in a barn??

kalim assumed theres no hairbrush in ramshackle

u dont have to worry bro, kalim is more than happy to stock u up with some hairbrush

"oh its nothing much dont worry😊🙏‼️" the literal gold handles on the hairbrush:

u dont have to worry abt not speaking much, he speaks enough for the both of u

he spoke such strange things u dont understand him sometimes

u just nod along and gave him thumbs up

its like sun and moon but the moon is confused /j

if youre sleeping outside, he will join u btw

he brought his pillows and blanket out to have a small sleepover with u

jamil had a mini heart attack when he went to wake kalim up in the morning to see hes missing from his bed

Vil

vil when be sees u

yk how yall lived in pomefiore for a bit after the idia thing??

yeah he polished u up so much bro

u came into the dorm looking like someone abandoned u so youe only option was to live in the jungle with the help of ur jungle friends and have survived through the way of the mammals since u were an infant

and u came out looking like a brand new person

u came out of the dorm looking like u got new skin that its literally shining under light, ur hair softer and no longer tangled and no more eyebags and u smell like flowers

vil wiping his forehead after a job well done😊🙏

also he was pretty shocked when he found out u were pretty isolated from the human norms or whatever

he did try his best to break you bad habits, like literally running in mud

he also helped u with like speaking problems?

he got u a whole dictionary in case u dont know the word bro

also fix ur uniform for ueach time u try to loosen it up because its too suffocating for u

if u try to loosen it up one more time, he'll add the veggies in ur plate

he absolutely does makes u eat ur veggies

he'll tie u down a chair and make u eat them even

/j he wouldnt. he have rook to help him with that

Idia

him after he fixed ur dorm with the greatest and newest updated quality just for u to sleep outside

he gets it, youve been raised this way

but he just fixed it for u bro😢😢cant u at least sleep in there

grim sleeps in diff rooms every day bcs of the upgrade and u did this?? /j

oh well at least the outside kind of looks better now too he guess....

u dont even use the tv, u dont know how it works

"people in there real?" "? no ?"

he beats u in every video games ever because u literally could not keep up with technology

hes slaying everyone and youre wondering how to make ur character walk the way u wanted them to

u accidentally drowned somehow in the video game

he feels a tad bit bad for u

he cant bond much with u because like

hes quiet, youre quiet

hes a modern dude, u dont even know whats a phone

he likes video games, u prolly like hunting for food

if you two r in a room together, the only people who r talking r literally the wind

"whoosh whoosh whoosh🌬" whoosh whoosh🌪

Malleus

he spoke enough for the both of u (its abt gargoyles)

he actually spoke so much confusing words for u

u looked at him like 😃🫨 (ur head is spinning and u r dying)

u can always ask him if u dont understand tho

he will explain in another paragraph but its ok, at least u understand now

barely actually

ur brain hurts and its fried from talking to him since he use big words

he did try to use simpler words for u!!

oh u two can kind of bond i think

youre both not familiar with technology so it will work well

u know those faces grandparents make when looking through new technologies

like the eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowed look with thag confused look

yeah thats the both of u

u both try to figure it out together (it did not work out)

yall asked lilia for help

peepaw is into the trends, he can help the both of u dont worry!!

he saw how messy you could be sometimes and went damn

he'll fix u up with magic its ok

show me funny things, magic man

anyways its a habit of his to fix anything in ur appearance whenever u have ur nighty walks

like u have this dirt on ur white uniform? say no more.

theres a damned branch in ur hair (dont ask how u got that) and its tangled in ur hair?? he got u pookie

part of ur clothes r literally ripped off because god's knows what youve been doing in your free time??? u dont even need to ask bbg

[sweetheartsaku]

—love and deepspace rafayel ; like a song ive never listened to but i know every lyric

a/n ; [fem!reader] @oracleofstars DAY 3 PROMPT AND FIRST LND POST WOOHOO doing this one bc im in band huhuhuhu :3c

larkspur !

concerts have always felt like a fever dream.

and the absolute tingle down your spine when you managed to swiftly choose and buy front-row tickets to THE 3VOLS concert?? your heart was basically beating out of your chest. to make your heart even tighter, a little pop-up had appeared on your laptop screen basically screaming at you: "DON'T LEAVE AFTER THE CONCERT ♡" in rafayel's iconic handwriting, with its own messy yet neat flare to it. one of your favourite members.

you wonder what a singer like him could possibly be doing after a concert as big as this. especially for a smaller artist like him, maybe he wanted to get to know what his fans are like? a social experime-

the cold breeze of your open window kisses your cheek causing you to snap out of your daze. your cream curtain had been blowing fresh air, it made you feel more alive, especially having it slightly open in the early mornings. the sunlight would bleed into the curtains onto your sheets and the early bustling of the beautiful city would awaken.

a small blue jay chirps outside, and your phone chimes reminding you to bring your purse.

you slot your gentle lip tint and wallet, your phone's little dangling charms clinking with all the other knick-knacks in your purse. and for the final touch, the little rafayel chibi keychain attached with a beaded charm you had bought by impulse (listener like artist?).

you connect your white headphones sprinkled in stickers, playing his latest track. one of your favourites from their most recent single, Tip Toe.

"even better to be experienced live" you smiled, as you tap on your bus card. you take a seat nearest in-between the back and the middle, claiming your seat closest to the window.

you had always been drawn to the more charismatic, charming and... magnetic members. that one, being rafayel.

before you even knew it, you had already arrived at the bar it was set, a very cozy and warm atmosphere fills the air. there were people on the stage, setting up xavier's iconic deep red bass and zayne's pearly keytar. the stage was littered in little bits of glitter, and warm fairy lights.

a shiver of your heart knew this was going to be a magical experience.

placing your headphones around the strap of our bag, you stand in awe at the centre of the audience area, eyes shimmering. bejewelled.

suddenly a dark, veronica lilac shade came into sight.

rafayel.

"RAFAYEL?????" your mind was running laps, taken aback by the sudden sight of the man of your dreams in front of you, setting up his own mic still looking back backstage presumably talking to staff.

he was dressed in an unbuttoned white polo with a loose black tie on top, paired with worn out denim jorts and a pair of thick socks with leathery brown dress shoes.

ohmygoodness.

they weren't wrong when they said he was prettier in real life. to make it even worse, you were one of the only people in that standing area.

"oh? you must be early. we still have an hour or so till' the show starts." he tilts his head towards you, looking back down at his mic

"e-eh?! you're talking to... me?!" you lock your eyes with his lilac ones, and gain composure.

"i mean... well yeah. i prefer to get to events early!!" you smile.

he looks back up, impressed by her gentle demeanour finding her cute being so shocked he was talking to her.

"well, that's good. and don't worry. i'm not some big celeb, just a guy who loves his band and has the eye for the arts, if i do say so myself. no need to be shy.", he chuckles.

oh wow. he's so much more charismatic in real life too. your ears become warm, thinking this is all a daze.

"well, i hope to see you in the crowd, hm?"

"yep! i'll be in the front row... chookas?"

"thank you. hope to see ya' after the show."

something about her... was different.

she was alluring. her soul... it was... beyond description. would he really believe in love at first sight after every other soul he's fallen for?

stealing glances at you throughout the concert, he notices your passionate aura and your shouts of the lyrics from the latest single, Tip Toe.

xavier finds himself noticing rafayel's eyes on you, he felt captivated, enchanted if you will, as he saw you sing to his music. xavier smiles to himself as he gets fired up for his solo part in the following 3 bars.

he had 3 songs left till he could finally interact with you again.

after the concert, 3VOLS bow and grin, feeling accomplished playing their latest single flawlessly. now, he just had to see if people payed attention to the pop up on the ticket site.

the small maintenance crew had efficiently set up the little tables filled with boxes, revealing little pouches containing little trinkets and freebies organised by the boys to express their gratitude for supporting and attending their concert and simply just enjoying their music. each little bag was organised by member, letting the people who had noticed the little pop up choose their favourite member's freebies.

you managed to get a early spot in the small crowd of people. peering over a shoulder, it seemed like they were having a small meet and greet.

ohmygoodness.

WERE TALKING TO THEM PERSONALLY AGAIN??? this cannot be real. PLEASE LET ME GET A TURN WITH RAFAYEL!!

the little crowd was progressively moving, now the time awaits on you to be able to have the opportunity to greet the first debuted member, xavier. he held hands with you, smiling as he directed his eyes towards rafayel.

DOES HE KNOW MY FAVOURITE IS RAFAYEL??

"oh, i noticed your little raf' keychain. its cute." he gleams. in reality, he knows rafayel has had an eye on you. little did you know, his eyes were still on you as you held hands with xavier.

you giggle, thanking him and interacting with zayne. you reach rafayel at the end of the table, and he automatically hands you the pouch of trinkets filled with little freebies chosen by rafayel himself.

"honestly, my eye for the arts makes my pouch one of the best decorated here." he playfully chuckles.

"hm... maybe. we'll see when i open it!"

"can't wait. did you enjoy the show?"

"oh my gosh of course!! my favourite had to be Tip toe. or Saturn, or WDYS... i can't choose!! oh and Over 85 was also re- oops. i just enjoyed the entire show! you did so well!!"

"i'm happy to hear that. the experience was magical for me too." he says as they exchange closed eye smiles.

you extend your hand and he laces his hands with yours, slightly cold fingertips sending a pang through your heart. you bid your goodbyes and thank you's, heart warm and mind at ease.

you exit the bar, taking in the deep night city air.

oh gosh. well that just happened.

you untie the little purple ribbon that embraced the little pouch. what came to your surprise, a little piece of paper had fallen out.

hm? what's thi-

you're cute. heres my number, ⌝

XXXX-XXX-XXX

i think i wanna get to know ya'.

⌞ xoxo, rafayel. ᡣ𐭩

larkspur, representing first love and sweet disposition.

your voice , ⌝

like a song i've never listened to

⌞ but i know every lyric.

[izzuku]

suck the soul out of me. - 2

summary- on one scary night, your car broke down on the middle of the road. Not being able to contact anyone, you searched for a nearby place to stay for the rest of the night. After discovering an old fashioned, crumbling house you decided to lie down for a bit before waking up some time later. Who would have known that there was a special guest waiting for a prey like you.

characters- luxiem x gn! reader part 2

c/w- biting, mentions of blood, suggestive touching , needy luca (it is shorter on Luca's part but it has more text!) , a little bit of brat tammer mysta (could be considered dub-con since he doesn't ask for consent so skip it if you're uncomfortable please)

a/n: second day lesgoo. I hope it isn't troublesome for you guys to read it in two parts. Please keep in mind these are not their real personalities, all of this is fictional and it shouldn't be taken seriously!

MYSTA RIAS

You shifted under your jacket, trying to get some warmth because the broken window didn't help at all to stop the wind. You could hear animals outside the house and rustling from trees nearby but you tried to pay no mind to it since it could make you stay up all night (and you needed that good rest).

After some time the noises stopped and your mind started its journey to Dreamland. Before you could drift off you felt some weight on top of you and your instincts kicked in.

You couldn't see his face clearly but you knew there was a man on top of you, trying to make you stay still while grabbing your wrists.

“Let go of me you weirdo! Don't touch me!” you shouted out, doing your best to push him off but to no avail. “Stop fucking wriggling I'm not gonna hurt you” he sounded mad, not angry but you moving so much was pushing his buttons.

“I just need some blood, nothing else.” He looked at you and you could see the blue of his eyes, even the grey strands of hair falling on his face as he bent over. “I'm not giving you shit, get off” you spat out, getting more and more angry at the man in front of you.

He chuckled, grabbing your face with one hand so he could move it to the side. “Bad for you, I don't care what you want I just need to drink. ” You fought the gasp that was tempted to leave your lips when his mouth found your neck, biting into the skin to take out the blood he wanted. Your hands instantly grabbed onto his blouse, pulling a bit when instead of pain you were greeted with a warm and tingling sensation.

“See? It isn't that bad. Let me help you warm up faster.” The hand on your face travelled down your body to hold your waist; cold fingertips burned each time they caressed your skin, making patterns then grabbing a little bit tighter.

You could feel the blood dripping down the collarbones to your chest causing you to let out a moan and even to grind onto the man's hips when his hold of your lower half tightened. After some more biting and kissing around, the guy pulled back to clean his messy mouth.

“That's all I needed of you little thing although I think I'll visit you more...”

LUCA KANESHIRO

To find yourself in this position would have been impossible to imagine, or that's what you thought. You couldn't really pinpoint the moment it all started, because sometimes things don't go the right way but they end up being better than what you expected.

The trembling of your thighs accompanied the creaking of burnt wood inside the house. Loud 'slurps' and puffs reverberated the old living room along with your own panting.

“I don't know if I...fuck- please” you mutter, looking down to the man in between your legs. Your soaked pants were drying near the chimney and the look on his face changed your mind. “Please...just a little more, I promise I'll be gentle” his gloved hands caressed the flesh of your thighs. His eyes begged for your sympathy but the way he licked the blood out of the bites sent shivers down your spine.

How could you not let him, you thought to yourself. Yes, you didn't know this man an hour ago but despite his height and big complexion, he made sure you could trust him (even in a creepy house far away from the city). Another sigh ran through your lips but nonetheless you nodded as a form of consent.

He have made a beautiful collage of bites around your inner thighs before he was asking for more blood. In your mind, you justified it as a poor guy who needed to feed on someone and you just happened to be there. Poor you didn't expect it to be an almost slow make out session with a stranger but instead of kissing he was biting and licking.

"Thanks again for letting me...you just taste so good...” his lips kissed some marks before licking over the newest ones. You couldn't care enough for the fact that instead of feeding from the top, he thought it was better to spread your legs, put his head in the middle and bite on the inner side, a very, very, sensitive area.

The heat between your legs came back again when he locked his arms around your thighs to secure you, mouth quivering at the thought of him just ravaging you out. To your luck, vampires could hear a lot of things that the human ear was not capable of.

“Do you...need help down here? I think I heard something”

[fairykazu]

TRACK 5: KNOCK KNOCK! WHOS THERE?

"name? are you there?" kazuha asked, his voice was muffled. you laughed nervously,

"yes, i am! don't worry. i'll be there in a bit, just let me do somethiiiing real quick." you answered. you wondered what was off about your apartment until you realized it's a bit messy. by a bit, you mean, it's terrible. it's like every world storm disaster decided to visit your home. you quickly tidied up your place until it was decently cleaned. you opened the door, "hi, kazuha! i hope you didn't wait too long." his nose was dusted with a bit of pink since the cold, he slowly moved his limbs to your apartment.

"no... not at all." he spoke. you noticed you forgot to put away your undergarment on the floor, quickly, you slid it behind the closet next to the door, hoping your highschool crush didn't notice. unknownst to you, he had, he chuckled a bit before he changed the subject, "what kind of song would you want to write?"

leading kazuha to the living room, you fluffed a pillow as he sat down. putting the pillow down and sitting near him, you laughed a little, "didn't you ask me? what genre do you think fits me the best?" well, you had already done enough pop. maybe it would be time for you to do some indie? he shrugged, "what are you most comfortable with?"

"i think, pop, it's a bit mainstreamed though."

"ok, what if you go for pop again but experiment with sounds that sounds like a dream?"

"what do you mean?"

pulling out his phone, kazuha quickly searched something up and played a song by barbara, the idol known as shinin' miracles. "like a dream pop?"

“i love barbara’s music but would it be like copy cat? i dont want to be all controversial.”

he scooted closer to you. you noticed every feature of his face and especially his maple-colored eyes. shit, has he ever changed from high school? he feels the same but is he prettier than before? you tried to ignore it as he continues, “when your albums out, you could release this after and say its inspired by barbara. i'm sure she would be flattered.”

“ohh! okay, i think i have to ask the kamisatos about this but i could work with this."

you yawned as kazuha brought over the third round of canned drinks, "do you think the lyrics are good enough?" kazuha asked you as you half-hazardly glanced at the various sheets of paper. some of them was sprawled all over your star-shaped coffee table and the rest were scrunched up and littered your complex's floor. "hmmm, i think so?"

cracking opens the can, you heard the familiar crisp crrk of the can, he handed it to you. his hand lightly brushed over yours and you tried to ignore the feelings it gave to your heart. "did you even read them? or did you do 'the thing' because you're too tired to look?" he jested as you laughed.

"haha, of course not! who do you think i am?" you replied, obviously lying through your teeth. as obvious as you were, kazuha was fighting back the urge to laugh, he tried to hide it with a smile. kazuha smiled warmly, "name. you are a person who does not lie at all."

"yep! yep! haha, thats me." he chuckled at your useless attempt to lie. an awkward silence filled the air as it started to kill you, you gave in.

name: 0 | kazuha: 1

"...okay, hand it over to me."

he took the can out of your hands, and you raised a brow, "you usually spill your drinks when you're busy with something. remember in highschool-"

"oh god no! don't ever bring that up." you winced at the pain, remembering that memory. it was too depressing to remember. kazuha made a face at you as you begrudingly agreed with him, "alright. take my beautiful dr. pepper away."

you traded your soda for to read the lyrics of the devil!!! just kidding... woah!

wait.

these lyrics weirdly sound romantic....

are the high school feelings coming back? man, why could lumine be right of all people? stupid star twins. y

"anything weird?" kazuha asked, worried. oh, he's doing that face when he's too worried and may or may not have a stomachache of overthinking a problem. you nodded your head no, "nah, it's fine."

"you sure?"

"really."

celeste

masterlist | prev nxt

a new and upcoming soloist was coming into the world of tevyat. but wait… isn't that one of the triple stars?! y/n was apart of the trio band called "triple stars" with aether and lumine. but due to mysterious reasons, they left the group with no explanation. however, they have come back with a new name: celeste

notes: - song used in this chapter is called ive always had a thing for you baby by between friends - dc (divider credit): @\bunnysrph

taglist: @pyrrhicgaze @d4y-dr3am3r @murderisokayforme @aeongiies @florakis @luvnoya @mellowknightcolorfarm @elikyeet @4leyn3 @imkaaayy @xiaosonlybeloved @kavxikitty @jayxncya @sakiimeo @theblueblub @whipped-for-fictionals @ynverse @eunchaeluvr @rifran @meowmeowmau @sweetstrawberrybabe

[awingedinsect]

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 7

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Strong allusions to/descriptions of to Self h@rm. bl00d, swearing, general 18+ content but nothing way too explicit this chapter. Some slightly fluffy vibes as a break from all the shit because my boy has been through it.

“Have you forgotten, my Vessel?”

“No.”

“Does it tempt you? The light?”

“Not as such. The light hurts my eyes, and there is no music in it. I cannot be somewhere where music is not.”

“You do well. Stay in the dark, my pretty voice. And wait for my words.”

“Yes…”

It’s not a dream. But at the same time, he’s not awake. He’s locked in the space between his mind and his eyelids; a dark place where he can’t move or think beyond the words coming out of his mouth, words that don’t even feel like his own. And yet here there’s a strange sort of peace here; a foreign, fearless, silence of his thoughts. He knows his purpose when he’s here.

“Yes…” his lips form the word over and over. He’s glad he’s finally found the point of having his mouth; to create the word and know that in this void, he is approved of because of it.

Suddenly there’s eyes in the dark. They’re blue as glaciers and round as planets and for a second he feels his Eden being invaded. Then the vision suddenly vanishes, and in its place is sunlight.

And a headache.

A splitting, horrible headache.

He blinks a few times to get the world into focus, and suddenly realizes that someone is standing directly over him. He barely has a second to process the enormous blue eyes blinking down at him before the person turns their head and yells out of the room, “guys! He’s wakin’ up, guys!”

It’s the drunk drummer he met at the bar.

Vessel tenses, fingers clawing the blanket now half on the floor and pulling it up over his bandaged chest. He’s still blinking, trying to figure out if last night's events were real and, if so, where the hell he is, when a second person comes into the room. He looks more put together than anyone he’s seen so far, leaning against the doorframe with a calmly curious look on his face. He eyes Vessel slowly, smiling politely when their eyes meet.

“Goodmorning.” He says.

Vessel is starting to feel enormous sympathy for every bug he’s ever uncovered and examined when flipping over garden stones.

There’s dusty sunlight pouring in through the window frames, bathing both him and the tiny living room/music room/three men live here and it shows room. And the big blue eyes of the drummer are still on him, hovering about two feet away and waiting patiently for him to do something.

“Hello.” Is what he manages.

“Damn, you’re a bit busted huh mate?” The drummer says, eyes sympathetic now as he swipes his unruly hair. “Not great.”

“No, not great.” Vessel has to agree. He still hasn’t moved. “Um, II, right?”

The drummer smiles. “Nice memory! Good on you, man. IV, come introduce yourself.”

the guitarist shrugs off of the doorframe, wandering over casually and nodding down at the man on the couch.

“IV.” He says.

Vessel nods awkwardly, trying not to stare at the very noticeable sling around his shoulder. But the guitarist obviously notices his inner turmoil, because he instantly waves him off. “aye, I’ve got a break from practice for a few weeks, I’m grateful. If III tries to blame you though tell him he’s crazy, it was my clumsy ass.”

Before Vessel can reply, another voice fills the room.

“Don’t try and make him feel better.”

All eyes suddenly turn to the doorway, where a now familiar figure is standing, messy hair pulled back in a knot and an enormous steaming mug in his hand. His robe hangs loose off his angular frame.

He just hovers there, eyeing the space between II and Vessel like at any moment the caffeine might kick in and he’ll jump for it; ready to tear the half-living singer a new one if given any reason. Vessel takes the warning and doesn’t so much as breathe too deeply.

Meanwhile, II sits down beside him without a fear in the world.

“Sorry you had to put up with III as a nurse.” He laughs, folding his hands in his lap. “One time I tripped on the step and sprained my damn ankle, and he had to carry me bridal-style back inside. Grumbled the whole way, then just fucking dumped me here too.” He gestures at the sofa and the man currently trying to shrink himself on it, a laugh still on his lips. He glanced back at III. “didn’t even make me soup.”

“I can’t fucking make soup.” The bassist says, gripping his mug with ring-decorated fingers- a few of the stones Vessel recognizes, some of the fatter rocks and symbols he doesn’t- and taking a long swig. “And if you didn’t get soup, there’s no way he is. We’ll probably have the cops beating down the door any fucking second looking for his busted ass.” He glares at Vessel, making eye contact sharp enough to cut new stripes into his skin. “Time to head out, bruv.”

A sudden flush of embarrassment climbs up Vessel’s chest, turning his bloodless cheeks pink as he blinks back. He feels practically naked right now; wearing his emotions on his face and a pair of baggy black sweatpants low on his hips. And the increasing certainly that he’s incapable of walking doesn’t exactly make him feel safe right now, either. Who are these people? Why are they held up in a cabin in the woods, and how much goddam witchcraft have they been doing up here? For all he knows, they could be in league with Venus. Is the voice in his head something they conjured up?

Silence!

The command rips through his brains like a bullet. He winces, scrunching his eyes as a gasp leaves his mouth. A gentle hand grabs his shoulder.

“Hey, you alright mate?” II asks, eyes searching his miserable face.

“He’s not going anywhere.” IV says, blinking down at the sight. He turns back to III, who himself even looks a little concerned at the way Vessel is shaking.

“He’s got no strength in him, man. I’m gonna make some fuckin breakfast, then we can talk.”

The guitarist walks past his friend in the doorway, sliding into what must be the kitchen.

“Fine.” III says, passing his mug between his two hands and tapping painted nails on the porcelain. “But if the cops show, one of you two is answering the fuckin door.”

And just like that he leaves, turning back down the hallway and closing himself up in the same bedroom he’d got the sweatpants from.

“Don’t worry about it, man.” II says, trying to look understanding as the trembles in Vessel’s shoulders settle and he gathers his breath, blinking his eyes back open to the world. “Whatever happened to you, you can tell us or not. ‘Matters is, you’re fine now, eh? IVy’s gonna cook something up, then you can just hang around long as you need. Make some music.”

The idea of singing feels like it hasn’t crossed his mind in millennia, much less doing it for them. But there’s a strange comfort in the way the drummer looks at him with those big, soft blue eyes.

He manages a grin, and nods.

Meanwhile pots are starting to clang in the next room, the smell of eggs wafting into the dusty parlor like a sign from god.

• • •

He remembers the feel of the carpet beneath his feet. The way his shoulder collapsed against the wall, rattling the picture frames smiling down at him.

“…m,mom?”

He remembers clutching his wrist, seeing double as something seeped dark and thick from between his fingers. He didn’t mean for there to be that much.

“M…mom!”

Her silhouette filled the end of the hallway, casting a shadow down to him. Her face went white as a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” She demanded, hurrying to him. She wrenched his arm off of his chest, a horrified gasp leaving her lips.

“Jesus Christ, how did that happen? Did you do this on purpose?!”

“It was an accident.”

“You’re fucking thirteen. You know not to play with knives, fucking hell…”

“I’m sorry.” He sobbed. His heart was gonna beat out of his chest. He was dying.

Her hands felt cold on him, prying at his fingers around the warm blood to get a better look.

“Get into the bathroom right now.” She ordered. She sounded like she might cry too, but not now- she always did her crying later.

“And stop crying.” She said, ushering him down the hallway. “You’re gonna wake up your sister.”

“I’ll do it.” II says, reaching an arm across Vessel. IV takes the salt shaker from his friend's hand and nods his thanks.

Vessel shakes from the daydream, shoving his arms underneath the table. The sleeves of II’s hoodie barely go past his wrists.

“Huh?”

“That bandage coming loose on your head?” III asks, picking at his steaming pile of eggs and toast. “IV was talking to ya.”

“Sorry.” He says, reaching for his own fork. The sleeve slides up his arm again and he tugs it back down with an age-old instinct, trying to politely search for a bite.

“What was that?”

“Just asking for the salt.” IV says, trying to smile at him. Though the thing comes out looking pretty full of pity. “Hey, how’re you feeling now, mate?”

Truthfully, he feels like he might throw up any minute. But at least the imminent threat of passing out seems gone.

“I could use a cup of tea.”

III’s face seems fixed in a permanent look of distaste, but he doesn’t say anything as II jumps up from the little round table and heads to the counter, filling the kettle from the tap. “Oh, fucking me too!” he says, bringing that same endearing enthusiasm into every word he says. Vessel’s heart flutters a bit at the man’s eagerness; when was the last time someone made him tea?

“Pick your poison, Vess.” He says, turning on the stove and reaching for a little decorated box beside the sink. “We’ve got Earl Grey, English Breakfast… and this funky Jasmine Rose one III got. Tastes a bit ass, honestly. Not good with milk and sugar.”

III shoves a forkful of eggs into his face and rolls his eyes. “Anyone who needs milk and sugar to enjoy tea doesn’t get a damn opinion.” He’s very blatantly avoiding Vessel’s face now, just glances at IV as II chuckles and pulls out two bags of English breakfast. “IV, you like it don’t you?”

The guitarist just smirks, taking a slow sip of his creamy coffee. His eyelashes flick down to Vessel, who’s currently fumbling with only his third bite of food. “No comment.”

“What?! I thought you liked it, I fully got another fucking box in my bag, man! You were slurping it down the other morning during practice.”

IV shrugs, seemingly content when a fourth bite passes Vessel’s lips. “Felt good on my throat… Still tastes shit.”

“You sing?” Vessel suddenly asks, surprised to hear his own voice. He sits up straighter, casting his eyes to the man beside him.

Suddenly II starts laughing behind III, clinking a lid down on a pretty brown teapot. “not like you, he doesn’t.” He says, eyes twinkling in the steam. “He screams. I swear to god, if we had neighbors they’d be scared shitless. At least the squirrels don’t seem to mind.” He pulls two mugs from the cupboard and sets them down. “I think they’ve made him their banshee leader.”

IV’s laugh is deep and soft, filling the little kitchen with even more warmth than the sunlight streaming in. “I can sing normal, too.” He swipes his hair out of his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. “ jus’ not as fun.”

“Aye, not so loud.” III says. And now his eyes dart to Vessel’s, gluing him down. “We’ve got a soft tenor in the room.”

Vessel’s eyes go a shade darker. He doesn’t peel them off of the bassist across from him.

“I can scream.” He says.

IV seems intrigued, though both he and II seemed fixed on the tension between the singer and bassist. “Oh? You like to fry?”

Vessel swallows. “Sometimes.” He says, breaking eye contact only long enough to take the mug II offers him. He mumbles a thank you.

“But I like it deeper, goes better with my songs.”

“You’ve gotta sing for us at some point, mate.” IV says. “That performance you gave at the bar was something else, but if you’re serious about it, you can’t hold out on us. We could harmonize.”

“Maybe.” Vessel’s eyes go a little wide as II tips a jug of milk into his tea, stirring a mound of white sugar into the mix like a true Englishman.

“Maybe later.” The tea scalds down his throat, but the taste is a comfort all the same. His tongue darts out across his lips and he rolls them awkwardly, uncertain how much longer he can take the eyes of the bassist on him. He forces a chuckle. “Not sure if III would uh, like that.”

“You kidding?” II says, smiling contentedly after a long sip of his nearly completely white tea. “III loved your singing, said it was the best voice he’d ever heard! Your pitch could go so well in a heavier mix, and he was about ready to play a riff for you right then and there when I found him before our show.” He doesn’t seem to notice how red III’s face is turning, instead smiling over at IV, who seems more than amused. “If shit hadn’t gone down on our set, I think III woulda hauled you up on the stage with him in a heartbeat.”

Vessel is speechless. There’s no way III actually liked his voice. Although, there was the healthy gap between his performance and the black eye he received for the man to have had second thoughts on the scrawny kid and his fucked up keyboard. Vessel’s wide eyes go straight to his lap, any and all words escaping him as III turns progressively redder across from him.

“Isn’t that right, III?” The drummer asks, now potentially aware of the effect his words have. He’s grinning too big. “Didn’t you say you wanted to hear him sing with some bass?”

“Bass can level up any performance.” III says, planting his elbows on the table. His hair falls into his face as he looks down to pick at his chipped nail polish. “But it’d be better with an actually good scream.”

“Don’t worry.” Vessel says, something brave stirring in his chest now that he’s got a sudden vantage on the man who’s been pushing him around like a trolly ever since they’ve met.

“I can scream loud enough, for you.”

The imminent silence is interrupted as II chokes violently on his tea.

[stardustizuku]

PART 2: What is Cinderella?

So, what exactly do I mean when I say “All Girl Dream of Cinderella”?

“Cinderella”, huh.

That’s obviously going to get some eyebrows raised. Because while, yes, Cinderella is a very popular story, it still very much is a western one, isn’t it? Why the universality of “every girl dreams of Cinderella?” How can I be so sure of “all girls”.

For starters, I’m not literally talking about the 1950 Disney’s Cinderella.

I’m more so using Cinderella as a signifier. A symbol. Something a bit bigger than Disney.

Truth is, there’s thousands of variants of the folk tale, which expand all over the world. Cinderella just happens to be the French variant.

But it exists in other countries outside of Europe: The Tale of Ye Xian, is Chinese; Tám and Cám, is Vietnamese - with the only noticeable difference being a goldfish instead of a fairy godmother and golden shoes instead of glass slippers. Korea has Kongjwi and Patjwi, which curiously enough, extends after marriage. The Iranian versions is called Moon-Forehead. The fairy tale has an extensive history and it expands far beyond western ideals. It exists in fairly different contexts.

So, I’m not literally talking about Cinderella, the Disney Movie.

I’m talking about the idea of Cinderella. What it represents.

At its core, Cinderella represents the idea of “something rightfully yours to have, being taken from you [Cinderella had a good life until her dad died], having to endure a lot of pain, but because you endured it gracefully, you gain the affection of others [enduring the abuse gets you help from animals and your fairy godmother], and because you’re such a good person you get a happily ever after [the prince]”.

If you switch around the parts and increment things here and there, you’ll find that most, if not all, cultures have something similar. For good reason.

It’s the idea that, even if something you have is taken from you, the universe will help you set everything in place. It’s the idea that good people succeed, and bad people suffer. It’s a good children’s story, that’s why you see it everywhere. The good will triumph over evil; you will get your happy ending.

But what happens when you grow up? Well, you start questioning the world, obviously.

You become a teenager.

You get sick and tired of Cinderella. I mean, who gets to decide what is good or bad? Why is my dream a man? Can’t I be an imperfect bad and messy girl, and still find a happy ending?

You’re exploring the world, so what’s the point of staying trapped in a story where the prize is a man? What’s the point of dreaming of princesses and castles, when there’s a city right outside your door?

So, you do what all teenagers do. You expand your horizons. You look at more nuanced material, you indulge in stories without happy endings, and maybe you experience some yourself. You face the world, you get heart broken, and its-

Exhausting. The world is chaotic, it’s confusing, and you’re suddenly not a wild and reckless as you were at thirteen.

You are tired.

You’ve seen pain, you’ve gotten hurt, you’ve fought, and you’ve bled, and everything is too much.

YET. You still want a happy ending.

And suddenly, you get Cinderella.

The exact same premise of, “your life was good, now it isn’t. But it should. And the universe will make sure you get a happy ending”.

But now, it hit harder. It’s much more real.

And before long, you indulge in it.

Cinderella is just that. The idea (and illusion) that there’s a clear right and wrong, a good and an evil. And, someday, the universe will reward you for being “good” by putting everything in its place.

That’s how stories like this become popular. Specially with older women and teenagers going through a rough patch in their life.

And while I say Cinderella in a very cishet view, there obviously are queer variants. (Trust me, there are plenty BL and GL Cinderella variants, but that’s an entirely different genre so we’ll put it aside for now). The flavor doesn’t really matter here. But the idea that “everything made wrong, will be put right in the end”.

It’s self indulgence, in its most raw form.

That’s why all girls dream of Cinderella.

It’s not that they dream of this Cinderella.

But they do dream about what it represents.

They dream about their rags turning into dresses. Maybe not literal dresses. But they do dream that they’ll look in the mirror and love what they see.

Maybe they don’t dream about a night at a ball, but they dream of night where they can go out and enjoy themselves. Maybe a nightclub, maybe a concert, maybe a bar, or even just an outing with a group of friends where they let loose.

And maybe they don’t dream of a Prince Charming - but they dream of love. Maybe they dream of companionship. Or the financial stability that comes with it. Or maybe they just dream of having an ending where everything feels right.

Every Girl Dreams of Cinderella - doesn’t mean every girl dreams of a cishet wedding; but they dream of a happy ever after where everything feels right. Whatever shape that takes.

Villainess stories, or in general Isekai shoujo and romance novels, are exactly that. A happy ever after, where everything works how it’s supposed to work. It functions in the way that you, as an AFAB person, were taught as a kid that the world works. Where there’s a prince, where there’s a wedding, and where there’s a dress.

While people write the story, I think it’s important to analyze what that story says. What is exactly that “dream” that was sold to us? And what does it mean that we dream of it as adult women, (and sometimes not even women, or women who like princes anymore)? That what Media is for. What is it that we find comfort in, why, and what does it say about us?

That said.

I find most disappointing, when people with the empathy of a straight white man start to talk about it this genre with contempt. Specially, romance literature aimed at older women.

Because while literature can risky, a point and deep and deconstructive - sometimes that’s not what the audience wants, or even needs.

Sometimes, tired women, want to be able to read stories where the obviously good girl wins, and the obviously bad one loses. Where a big strong man takes all your problems away, and you have the fantasy promised to you since you were a kid. Where, you get to sit back, relax and read about how the wold is okay. It’s right. About how things are working they should.

Men get a chance to do that with blockbuster movies, why can’t women have that too?

Are there things to criticize about them? Yes. That’s partially what I’m here to do.

But you also need to do this with compassion and understanding.

This is not a multimillion dollar film, so you (and I have to stress this with permanent market) CANNOT, approach them with the same cynicism you would a video essay about how the transforms franchise is sexist crap.

In normal life, no one will bat an eye about a guy liking the Fast and Furious franchise. But a woman liking Fifty Shades of Grey, or any of those raunchy pulp novels they sell at a discount bin in Barnes and Nobles - is very much mocked. Made fun of. And the same goes for shitty villainess webcomics and novels. Even a teenager liking shitty romance novels.

I mean, just look at the way people treat Twilight, Colleen Hoover books, heck, even Ali Hazelwood’s books are mocked sometimes. And if you turn to see the contempt many have for women publishing they Reylo Fanfic that, in no way affects others, it’s very obvious the scrutiny through which romance novels are put through - even when they’re meant to be thoughtless self-fulfilling fantasies.

For some reason, there’s this expectation that women have to have the moral high ground. All they consume must be perfect. Not raise eyebrows, not be provocative, and definitely not controversial. While men get to ogle at Megan Fox on 4K at a booked-out theater.

It is not an even playing field.

And you have to acknowledge it, before doing any sort of analysis.

Because the literature that women like, is always considered a lesser form of art (sometimes even compared to world war 1, in case you think I forgot about Twilight), the same criticism said, will have a different impact.

If someone points out that Sixteen Candles is kinda creepy, everyone ignores it. If someone points out Twilight is creepy, it causes media to run a hate campaign against teens who like it.

So, I wanted to make that clear.

While what I will talk about in the next few chapters is important, always bear in mind that: It’s not exclusive to the genre, and not a problem only women have to solve.

It’s also important to recognize that individual authors may not even be aware of what they create comes across. Not to say that they’re all completely blameless, but that the fault sometimes lies less in the individual and more so on the broader trends that permeate literature. Which, in turn, are a reflection of our societal expectations and constructs.

In a more digestible example: A single author writing about how the evil character is ugly, may not be bad. But if multiple authors start doing it, it may mean that we, as a society, apply moral values to beauty. And that must be examined. It’s also important to recognize what exactly makes this character “ugly”, and if that’s born out of our standards of beauty, hidden racism or ableism, and what can we do about it? How will you change based on that information?

It doesn’t mean that the author has any moral failing. They’re telling a story. But it’s our job as literature analysts, to decode what that says about us. As a society. And what it means that it became so popular.

I have this disclaimer because we will inevitably confront the ugly side of this analysis. And I have seen people get very weird about them. Rather point fingers about what author is or isn’t racist, or if their work is or isn’t sexist - to me is far more productive to look at it and ask: Hey, if this is popular, what does it say about us? Why do I like it? What ugly truth am I looking at, in this mirror I’m holding?

I do not wish to appoint moral value in what I’m looking at. Not right now. Because if you do, you throw everything into the garbage and say “it’s bad”, “it’s problematic”, or “it’s gross”. It limits your scope.

The scope I want is not to tell you, “this is good” or “this is bad”. I want to discuss the way that certain tropes originated, what this “Dream of Cinderella” means, and how it can potentially impacts us when we read it.

So, to start talking about this “Dream of Cinderella”, first we have to ask:

Well, who is Cinderella?

PREV << MASTERLIST >> NEXT

[ncityavenue]

7:11pm—

》warnings: smut,some plot mostly sex, anal play,jaehyun being an ass man,and spitting

────────────────────────────────

"So what do you think?"

You twirled around in the mini skirt that you recently bought when you went shopping with your husband, Jaehyun, you were trying on your clothes and had him rate them well more like check you out.

"That's really nice on you, fits you nice..real nice." Jaehyun trails off, you grinned at him knowing he wasn't really paying attention to the piece of fabric on your body but he was paying attention to the way it fitted you.

"The back is a little risky tho, I might needa wear like tights with this." You suggested, jaehyun spun his index finger in a circle motioning you to turn around.

You did exactly that, "GAH-DAMN!" was all you heard from him you chuckled at the animated expression he had on his face.

"See look I can't even bend all the way, my goods will be on full display." You proceeded to bend over to show him but honestly you were teasing him.

"They sure would..." Jaehyun wasn't even a bit ashamed at him full on eye fucking your ass, he reached an inch to give your ass a smack which made you yelp and giggle.

"I see Mr.Jung is a fan of this skirt huh?" You raised an eyebrow as you climbed on top of him grabbing him by the collar so his face could be barely an inch away from yours, he only bask in the smell of your sweet perfume and the fake innocent look on your face. His face scrunched into a cheek smile revealing his dimples.

"More than a fan honestly." Jaehyun scanned your body for the umpteenth time, a few innocent smooches turned into a make-up session as both of your tongues clashed into each other.

Your hands tangled into jaehyuns hair, you started grinding on his crotch making him lightly grunt into the kiss that forced you to smile. His hand traveled to your ass as he groped it like he owned it,which he did, his lips started sneaking its way to your neck leaving mini love bites.

"Oh shit jae..." You breathed out, jaehyun continued to nit pick at your skin but he eased his way down to your belly smooching the curves and dips in them.

He already had a handful of your ass in his hand so he decided to sneak his finger in between your legs and placed generous circles around your asshole, you sighed in pleasure in this position all you could do is grip at his shoulders and kiss his plush lips.

"Can I?" Jaehyun swiftly asked as he still nipped at your belly, all you did was nodded and all you felt was his slender finger enter your anus. You moan grabbing his hair tighter, he went dangerously slow knowing you guys don't do anal much but today,oh today he felt like it was just right. The way your butt poked out in the skirt drove Jaehyun insane, what drove him even more crazy was how you still had this same affect like the first time even after 3 years of being married and 6 years of being together.

He needed to fill you now but he had remembered how you thought rushing in romance was distasteful and unsatisfying, "get up." He simply said, you obliged as he damn near ripped your panties off your body with how fast he pulled them down.

"I want you to sit on my face and have that pretty big ass on my face" Jaehyun ordered as he began to lay down on the bed, he beckoned you with his hand and happily crawled up on top of him settling your lower half on his face.

His nose grazed your anal entrance which made you jump a bit from the sensitivity, he latched his lips onto your pussy as he started sucking on the bud.

His hands were obviously busy groping and smacking your ass, you realized jaehyun was fully clothed but you could see his dickprint so you took matters into your own hands and pulled his Grey sweatpants down revealing his erection you held his cock in your hand before pumping him at a steady pace.

You tried to keep a frequent pace but jaehyun tongue skills working wonders on your clit kept you from doing that, Jaehyun's mouth was messy, including your juices and his spit. He shook his head in a swift manner which sent shockwaves through your body.

"Oh fuck jae, please–"

"Please what? Tell me what you want." You grabbed his hand and guided them to your asshole, "fuck my asshole please." You whined. He had a grin across his face but did as instructed.

He fucked it,the way you asked, with quick momentum while he ate you out you felt like a double stuffed oreo with your pussy getting annihilated by husband's tongue and his mischievous fingers inside your ass.

His tongue soon matched with the quickness of his fingers , you couldn't really focus on just hand jobbing so you began to bend down and latched your mouth onto his dick.

You bobbed your head up and down, also matching jaehyuns speed well as best you could. His tongue was fully inside of you hitting your g spot ever so generously, your muffled moan sent a vibration through his cock which made him groan causing the same thing for you.

He momentarily suck his fingers that were once inside your ass now shoved in your pussy, he spat on your asshole as now he was sucking your anus.

This sorta behavior must've been pent up over the day of shopping with him, because you didn't just forget the looks he stole of you—those exact mischievous yet seductive looks.

You also continued to jack him off, now you could focus on him the way you wanted to. You helped the hand job by dragging your tongue by the sides and occasionally sucking.

You took your mouth clean off his cock leaving a popping sound once your lips left his tip, his fingers going in and out of you rapidly made a louder squelched sound. You got more wet meaning you were close to your high.

"C'mon baby–fuck–cum for me" Jaehyun breathed out, you didn't need much convincing after all you were getting double penetrated.

You came on his fingers leaving a mini white ring around his fingers, he sucked his fingers dry but continued to lick your ass and give your cheeks little hickeys.

You could now focus on jaehyun the way you wanted to in the first place, you helped the hand job you were giving him by dragging your tongue across his dick and occasionally sucking.

He hissed at the action, he slapped your ass earning a yelp from you. "Baby don't get so bold now."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You lightly smirked before taking him back in your mouth, sucking him faster and relentlessly you moaned a bit from how well he fitted in your mouth.

His breath hitch and his grunts became more prominent you knew he was close so you started stroking him swiftly additionally you bobbed your head.

"Oh fuck! Stay right there." Jaehyun instructed, you paused your previous actions and he started thrusting his hips forward aggressively.

Then you felt a warm liquid fill your mouth all you heard was his pretty moans fill the room, his hips dropped and you slowly took your mouth from around him.

You laid directly next to him resting a leg on his abdomen," I don't think I'm returning this skirt."

"Never. By the way it looks really pretty on you." Jaehyun muttered, you could tell he was getting post orgasm sleepy.

You pat his peck,"I think you showed me enough already."

Jaehyun smiled one last time before dozing off and you followed suite.

─────────────────────────────────

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky x Y/N - Part Nine - The Last Time

This chapter is what truly inspired this series. It is inspired by The Last Time by The Script. For anyone who hasn't heard it, I highly recommend you give it a listen. Danny O'Donohue's voice carries so much pain it makes the song all the more intense. This chapter is entirely Bucky's pov. As always please like, reblog etc. And feedback is always welcome :)

Bucky sat on the wing of the plane, anxiously awaiting Y/N's arrival. He knew she was afraid to be seen too closely with him, so out here with nobody to see them but the planes in the hanger was perfect. He had a bottle of whiskey with him, just like that first night they spoke.

Thinking on that first night, he never thought it would lead to something like this. They bonded over their grief, and that mutal respect for eachother turned into something magical. He didnt want to love her, he didnt want to be a homewrecker, especially when the husband was someone he actually liked and respected. But he couldnt help it. John Egan knew a thing or two about fate, and he knew this was fate. He and Y/N were meant to be together. Yes, it was messy, but it would all be worth it in the end.

She was late. He had never known her to be late. He was starting to worry she wasnt coming. The box in his pocket grew heavier. He knew Y/N didnt want a be an adulterer, and he knew she felt both shame and regret at their affair. No not regret, theres no way she could regret the love they share. But she was shameful. Bucky knew he had to do the right thing by her.

She finally arrived at 2:11pm. 'I'm sorry I'm late' she said, offering no explanation as to why.

'It's okay doll. Let me help you.'

He hoisted her up onto the wing of the plane. He pulled out the bottle of whiskey, taking a sip straight from the bottle before offering it to her. 'I don't think thats a wise idea John.'

'Course it is! Just like that first time we spoke, remember?' he said, once again offering her the bottle.

'Of course I remember.' she took a small sip from the bottle. 'I could never forget that.'

'Me neither' he said. They stared into eachothers eyes, the love and attraction thick in the air. Y/N cut the moment short.

'So, why'd you bring me out here?' she said in a tone that made Bucky think she wanted to leave.

'Because, I uh... well I wanted to talk to you... about us. About what you said about Clarke.'

'I'm certain he knows. He has to. He's been acting so strange.'

'Well we don't need to worry about that anymore.'

Y/N looked at him with confusion plain on her face. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

'It was my Ma's. I wrote to her asking her to ship it over to me.'

'Oh Bucky... We can't.'

'I know, the wars not over yet. I want to be able to give you a real life outside this place. But divorces take time so I figure you get things started with the Colonel and then-'

'Bucky no! We can't. I can't.' she interrupted him.

'Why not? I know its gonna be tough, I do, but we'll get through it together. I'm not saying right this minute... But soon, when this war is over... I love you.'

'I love you too Bucky, but I can't marry you. I wont leave Bertie.'

'What? If its because you think he can give you more than I can...' Bucky was spiraling. This was not how he thought this would go. He thought she would say yes. He thought she would kiss him sensless and they would celebrate with the whiskey he brought. He never thought this. 'Well maybe right now yeah but... I'm a Major. I could be a Colonel some day, I can support you! I'll buy you whatever-'

'Oh Bucky it's not about that!' There was a brief moment of silence, Y/N bit her lip before she spoke again. 'It's about Me and Albert. He is a good man. And for better or worse I married him. I devoted myself to him. And he has loved me unconditionally in return. I was wrong to ever let myself get involved with you. I came here today to end things Bucky.'

No. She couldn't. She couldn't be ending things. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. He never thought he'd want to marry anyone but he wanted to marry her. What they had wasnt wrong, It wasnt the best start to a relationship sure, but it couldnt be wrong. She made his heart swell, made him smile so much his cheeks hurt. This could not be the last time she made him smile like that.

'You don't me that.' Was all he could manage to get out.

'I do. I'm sorry Bucky. But I need to focus on my marraige. If we end things now, It might have a solid chance.

This is the last thing that Bucky ever thought would happen. He never thought she would do this to him, because he knew it was the last thing he would have ever done to her.

'No! You can't. We are meant to be together. After all we've been through, everything we ever told eachother. All the times we kiss? Made love? It can't be the last time.'

Y/N reached to touch Bucky's cheek, his eyes sliding closed as she did. She reached to place a gentle kiss on his other cheek. Then she slid off the wing of the plane and landed as elegantly as she could. 'I'm sorry Bucky, it is.... Goodbye John.'

She walked away then. Back to her husband Bucky presumed. He couldn't believe it. If he had known that the night he made love to her in London would be the last time, he would have never let either of them leave that bed. His heart was broken. He could feel it in his chest. It was worse than any bullet or flak.

For the first time since he was a child, John Clarence 'Bucky' Egan cried. He cried, and he drank.

Buck Cleven found him several hours later, passed out drunk on the wing of the plane. He needed Harry Crosby to help him get his friend down safely.

The following day he was told he was being given another weekend pass to London. London was the last place he wanted to be but his leave was non-negotiable. He didn't bother to ask who approved the leave, he didnt need to. He knew Colonel Clarke would be responsible.

[variousqueerthings]

favourie movies i watched for the first time in the first half of 2024

(yeah I originally wrote this post in July and forgot to finish it, shhhhh ignore the date)

a death in the gunj: i went into this one not knowing what was going to happen. it's a profile of a young man who doesn't fit in the world around him, portrayed in a microcosm of familial events -- it was so intensely emotional and set off a lot of the underlying thematic thread of this year's watching

beau travail: this is one of the "top 100 movies lists" movies that i watched and i spent a good deal of it wondering where it was going and what it was exactly doing and we get to the final scene and my mind suddenly flips and goes "oh it's been doing it the whole time!!!" it's a film that felt like i was soaking in it, rather than watching something chronological or putting together a puzzle. white, colonialist toxic masculinity in djibouti and homoeroticism

maurice (vietnamese film club extended edition): i've seen maurice sans these scenes before, but then this youtube channel uploaded a version with the deleted scenes spliced in and ohhh my goodness it gives so much more Moreness to the whole story. i also read the book for the first time afterwards and truly the movie follows it so closely, but yeah. there's something special about maurice, on a meta level as well as quality. doubly so with the deleted scenes

to kill a mockingbird: yeah yeah i'd never seen it before, duh it's a really good movie. tbh i do think there's something in the water of more classic hollywood Cinema. a messy af place, but i'm a sucker for the beautiful acting, astounding scores, the sincerity of the story and the acting. it's a perfect film

the watermelon woman: interestingly, on the flipside of the "movies that mean something" scale, about as non-hollywood as you'll get, a movie about who gets remembered in movies, a movie about documentation, a movie that wanted to make a documentary, but instead is making a movie about trying to make a documentary (that isn't a documentary), a movie about black lesbians throughout history, a movie that was nearly impossible to find for awhile (god bless piracy), a movie about in/visibility

southern comfort: a documentary about the final year of robert eads, who died of what would have been initially treatable ovarian cancer, but who had been told he didn't need his ovaries removed and then later was denied treatment until it was too late. this is incredibly sad, yes, but it's also a movie about the trans south, a community documentation that feels incredible in its existence, a group of people who would risk being forgotten were it not for the hungry, beautiful need to document

the zone of interest: one of two oscar-nominated movies on this list, i had never heard of this term before, which was shocking to me -- but even moreso when i realised how few people in my life knew about the term either. this film is not-about auschwitz from the pov of its commandant, rudolf höss and his family, and about how easy it is to casually dehumanise. the director - a jewish man named jonathan glazer - faced censure for drawing parallels between his movie and the treatment of palestinians, especially considering Big Walls

fahra: a movie based on the real-life recollections of a survivor of the first nabka. fahra gets locked in a cellar while her village is overrun by troops and tries desperately to get out and find her father. the way it's told -- almost never leaving the cellar -- is both deliberate in that this is what happened, but it also serves as an intimate eye through which the audience is given perspective on some of the violence perpetrated during the first nabka and since

the advocate for fagdom: a documentary/portrait of bruce la bruce, the creation of queercore, queer punk scenes in the american 80s, tbh it's just a good time and a good insight into history -- particularly enjoyed the bit where they talked about queer already being not radical enough in the 90s and wanting to shake things up. *glances at corporate queer* oh little did they know (or maybe they did)...

monkey man: i was not necessarily the only trans person at the screening of this film i was at, but i was definitely outnumbered by heterosexual couples and we'll never know what the other cinema-goers felt about it, but this being mainstream-but-not. mainstream, in that dev patel is a name that draws audience, not in that this was all his production and certainly not a massive budget film for what it was doing. mainstream in its cool action set-pieces, not in that it's politically right in your face. dev patel is hot, also

the holdovers: the other oscar-nominated film and one i feel went waaay under the radar. hearkened back to an older era of american film-making that wasn't in a hurry, that had a simple story with deep reservoirs of feeling to tell, with quirky (but real) characters going through things together. the fact that it's set around the vietnam war makes that image even stronger. i just felt things. movie emotions, the emotions you get when you're watching such a solid fucking Movie, yaknow? *harry styles voice* It's a Movie

desire lines: gay trans men and mascs and gay saunas and lou sullivan and documentary but also the story of a middle-aged iranian trans guy who meets a younger american trans guy in an archive and they bond and he gets invited to the trans night at the sauna, i was so emotionally overcome by this film that i couldn't go back to the film festival i was at the entire rest of the weekend (two whole days i missed after this film got to me!!!) where do you hear gay trans men and masc stories? ever???

femme: fucked up gay revenge story in which a black drag queen (played oh so fucking well by nathan stewart-jarrett who is getting what's his after being done dirty by misfits back in the day, oof my boy is killing it in angels of america, in candyman, in this gem!) is hatecrimed by a group of white homophobes, and then proceeds to meet the leader of them in a gay bathhouse... oh if you can deal with the delicious tension of it (practically nonstop) it's so so worth it

secretary: first of two james spaders i watched for the first time, making me come to the realisation that mr spader is a Freak and so so good. a young woman yet to uncover her latent sub-side (the great maggie gyllenhaal) leaves a mental health institution and gets a job as a secretary for an incredibly repressed dom... and youknow....

crash: the other james spader i watched for the first time, ngl i was building to crash because i need to know when sex is going to happen onscreen, i need to approach it from the side, i need to be analytical about it lest it get too discomforting for me. i actually don't mind sex so much onscreen anymore, because im quite desentised to its being "not-real," but it still needs a bit of build. point being, these people get off on car crashes and that part is hot. idk what that says about me (kinky ace)

kamikaze girls: two girls from two different worlds meet, one is a member of an all-girl biker gang, the other wishes for nothing more than to be a rococo era girl (helpless, feminine, prone to fainting, beautiful, cared for). it all gets very gay very fast. this movie was delightful, i had such a good time

angel's egg: i am getting more into watching animation on the whole and so far this is the one that's knocked me the most over the head this year. i cannot describe it, it needs to be watched. it's just visual poetry wrapped in a fairytale wrapped in a series of questions, but you've gotta just... bask. just live in its world

tetsuo: the iron man: feel like there's nothing I can say about this movie that other people haven't said much better. I don't know much about this period of film-making, this feels like the intro to it all (for me), and it's. I mean really I ought to just go out there and make some fucked up movies in black and white with a bunch of simple special effects that come together to leave you oh-so-disturbed. they all become machines and fuck and vore each other i don't know what else to tellya

love lies bleeding: idk what to tell you man. fucked up lesbians. greasy smoker butch stewart, who's jonesing the entire time and so fucking into her pretty bodybuilder girlfriend who you think is the reasonable part of the equation but truly truly not. there's some body-stuff in there i did not expect. everyone is kind of terrible, and the score is great. lesbian crime hits different, it just does

SO FAR TOP MOVIES FOR THE SECOND HALF OF THE YEAR: Flee I Saw The TV Glow Death By Hanging It Must Be Heaven The Act Of Killing/The Look Of Silence Becket This Is Not A Film

[the-last-f2p]

Lost & found Beast :Akutagawa x reader

A/N: I just got and finished BSD beast 1 so here is a fic/short series.

TW: Mentions of blood, Assassin brotherhood, Mentions of killing, Gaslighting, swearing, Suicidal thoughts for a line,

Life in the slums was not pleasent to say the least. But atleast you had him.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa The Silent Rabid Dog

Yes he was as emotoinless as a dead body but he was a good friend who saved you too many times to if you could count you felt like you atleast should give him something in return that thing being your friendship. Even if he made it look like he couldn't care less about you.

"Akutagawa-kun do you a sweet potatoe we got a big enough paycheck for everyone!" You smile to him.

"....Sure." He says as blankly as ever he takes the potatoe.

"Here take another and give it to Gin-chan as well!" You give him another potatoe.

"I'm gonna go now see you later Akutagawa-Kun!" You then run off somewhere. That place being your source of money. A brotherhood of assasins. Yes maybe everytime you went into the less than grand building it stank of something blood and everyone looked down on you both literally and figurativley you were still pretty young okay?! But that didn't mean that you couldn't pack a punch. Mostly thanks to your ability How to Kill your family that allowed you to make a small cut on anyone remotly related to your family that if not treated properly would grow until it cut through a vital vein. The only drawback is that it could only be used once a day or else you would collapse from exhastion. Lucky that you consider everyone in the group in the slums your family or your ability wouldn't be nearly as useful.

"Y/N. I have a job for you." My boss said to me looking almost as emotionless as Akutagawa.

"There's a man by the name of Osamu Dazai the boss of the port mafia kill him and your pay will be trippled." The port mafia?! Maybe you weren't the brightest but you're not that dumb.. But what if you did it. Pay trippled. Your pay had been cut tremendously for your age already but trippled would be enough to get a food supply for everyone for atleast a week. You had to go even if you knew it was suicide...

And this is how you ended up trying to find someway to relate Osamu Dazai to one of your familiy members...

"Lets see.. No.. No.. Wait.. SAYAKA she met one of the Port Mafia members last week it was only for a bit but it should be enough..." Ability: How to kill your family

"Osamu Dazai."

Blue rings started to appear around you and images flashed in your head of a messy brown-haired man dressed in black who you assumed to be Osamu Dazai. You then saw a small cut appear on his finger. Yes tripple pay here you come. It then healed as quick as it appeared.

"Nice try Y/N L/N but if you're gonna try kill me please at least do it in person." He smiled a ginger haired boy heard it and asked

"Who are you talking to boss?" "No one, you must be hearing things Chuuya."

The image in your head then dissolved into nothing god fucking dammit does he have some kind of ability well of course he does how else was it supposed to heal without him even touching the cut? If that didn't work you'll just kill him the hard way... This'll be your first up close kill and you don't really know how you'll pull it of....

"Y/N look!" One of your friends brought a small object up to your face that you recognized as a diamond.

"Its real Akutagawa-san checked!" You were about to contiue the conversation but then Akutagawa interupted you.

"Pack up in one minute we need to get out of here." You felt a presence near you and immidetally ducked leading your friend to get shot in the forehead then collapsing on the floor. You were pretty sure the people said something but you were to focused on what your friend said.

"H...H-Help us Aku..Ta Y/...N." He then got shot again your first reaction was for you to run as fast as possible away. You were then met with the sounds of bullets and screaming until you couldn't take it yes you were an assasin but you never had even heard the sound of gunshots before and it scared you. You found the nearest window and jumped out of it running your little legs of until you had exited the slums of Yokohoma and into the nicer side. You stopped at a bridge to catch your breath. By the time you had got to the bridge it was already dusk and there was barely anyone around this was a good enough place to rest......

You woke up to a tall red-head looking down at you and your first reaction was to kick him but he blocked it so easy that it was like he could see the future.

"Quite a way to greet people don't you think?" He tells you.

"Who are you? What do you want? Are you with the Mafia or those guys do you wanna kill me aswell finish the job?" Actually now that you say it maybe it would be a good thing if he came to kill you as long as it was quick.

"Calm down kid I was just worried seeing you collapsed." "Well I am fine there is no need to be worried and if you're not here to kill me then get the hell away!" You try to kick him again but he lands a blow to your stomach and then throws you on his shoulder.

"GET THE HELL OF ME! I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I'M APART OF THE YOKOHOMA ASSASINS BROTHERHOOD I'LL KILL YOU!" You start to thrash around but the man doesnt even flinch.

"I'm not gonna abandon a kid who obviously needs help."

"I don't care who the hell even are you!?"

"My name is Oda. Sakunosuke Odasaku member of the armed detective agency." The armed Dective Agency huh-

"-" You were about to say something but exhaustion had hit you again somehow.

The next few weeks had flown before you knew it you were a member of the armed detective agency and to think all you had to was untie a 'hostage' and defuse a fake bomb by throwing yourself over it thanks a lot Oda not.

4 years later

"Y/N." One of your co-workers Kunikda called out your name.

"Yo." You turned around on your chair.

"Theres a guy I want to you to meet." You were about to get up from your chair but you were almost hit by a all to familar ability that messed up your desk beyond repair dammit....

"Akutagawa-Kun?"

"Y-Y/N?!"

Words:1096

A/N: Yo I wanna make a part 2 so take a cliffhanger also happy first fic that had no promt me

-Sybilliya

[stylecouncil]

one thing I really really love about pressure machine is that so many esp modern writing about the working class almost tries to venerate or up lift, romanticize, which don’t get me wrong there’s a little bit, there’s obviously an appreciation for the dirt under your fingernails etc etc but the veneration somehow ends up feeling lacking, or in some cases even reactionary when you look at the state of 2000s - 2010s -2020s country etc etc, like cleaned up saccharine repetition of bootstrap ideology or some hollow call to the idea of god without any theological depth or nuance or actual exploration of why religion is so rooted in the dna of so many small towns (literally see: gods own country) they just aren’t dark enough, aren’t encompassing of the messy reality, they’re watered down, they’re not real. this album almost feels anti reactionary, it almost feels like it’s directly addressing the modern state of this kind of storytelling (and the album had several places where it seems to play with this idea/directly address it). it’s not an agenda pushing hollow toothless canonization of the working class man it’s a kind of conflicted condemnation of the world/mankind/system that created these wheels of suffering and an attempt to try to grapple with a god and such a profound belief in a god amongst all the suffering. pressure machine starts with a tale of someone who threw his whole life away on a possession charge, he’s not a bad guy, he’s not even really a cautionary tale, he’s just a reality. the albums protagonists aren’t perfect upstanding versions of the working family man. his actions don’t match up with his ideology “if there really is judgement, when he pulls my chart, he’ll reject my actions, but he will know my heart! he’ll prepare a place for me where happiness instills, where the light puts its living hands on my head (a reference to he earlier vignette of him playing as child). they got me for possession of enough to kill the horses that run free in the west hills. free in the west hills” immediately we cut into quiet town a song that’s chorus COULD ALMOST double as a song like you would hear on modern country radio (I think this is totally intentional) for example but almost every verse is a jumbled mess of children being hit by trains and parents burying their children dying of heroin overdoses (somebody’s been keeping secrets in this quiet town) so you get this thrilling little juxtaposition that you think is maybe resolved by the end of song, maybe we’ll give way to some celebration, until, no, the last thing mentioned is the train again. gods kingdom, gods country, isn’t a good place to be, it’s a pressure machine. that’s just the practical reality. so many characters aren’t reaching to god because they even know all that much about what they’ve been taught or because they even feel it’s relational or even aligns with their actions, it’s all they have. it’s a an aching of there’s got to be something else, something better, all this suffering has to mean something. (“we keep on waiting for the miracle to come” and well it never does) the album doesn’t even seem necessarily sure if it does or if it really is just about getting through and about how hope is sometimes all that can you there (the getting by), it seems at the same time completely combined and also steeped in doubt, just like the characters it portrays, just like cut up pieces of the real diner interviews from people in the town that it places between most songs (absolutely in love with this choice which if done wrong could have felt like a chore or out place but is somehow perfect). It just feels perfectly constructed. I don’t even know where I’m going with this it’s just been a long time since I’ve been that impressed with an album.

[escentia]

hii!!

i really love ur stuff and ur art, ur a big inspiration to me (old xian ftw) and as someone who's also interested in potentially making a comic at some point i was wondering if you could talk a little bit about your creative process for the storylines? i feel like i have a lot of beginning premises (i.e. characters and setting) but nothing past that to flesh out the story, if that makes sense? so any insight you might have on how to come up with that stuff would be awesome! if not thats cool and i love you! keep doing what ur doing i really love ur work :))

xoxo, dia

Hi Dia,

Thanks for asking this! Storytelling is my favourite topic - I could go on for hours. I have strong opinions on the matter but don't like to run my mouth on the internet uninvited (so thanks for the invitation) :p

My favourite kind of story starts with an interesting question. Something that interrogates conventional wisdom or invites us to see things in a new light. The characters in the story should then try to answer this Interesting Question.

To cite some of my favourite stories for example:

1) Arrival by Ted Chiang : the language we speak limits what we can understand. What if by learning an alien language we begin to understand what no human has understood before?

2) Left hand of Darkness by Ursula le Guin: What will society be like if gender does not exist?

3) The Tawny Man trilogy by Robin Hobb: Should love naturally lead to lust? Is there a limit to friendship?

On my end, Memorabilia started because I was fed up with extremely predictable BL. I thought, what if two guys kinda gay but in the end it makes more sense for them not to be together? Why can't romantic stories more closely mirror the messiness of real life?

And as the story evolved, it developed space for more spicy questions. Is chasing your dreams always the right thing to do? Is progress inherently good? What is the point of freedom? As the characters grapple with the questions with their words and actions the story writes itself.

As for where these questions come from, most of them come from life experiences. From my personal relationships, working life, and conversations with friends and family. Writing stories my way of attempting an answer.

Of course, there are very good stories that don't revolve around Big Questions (Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter come to mind). So my approach clearly isn't the only way!

If you already have a character and premise but no story, you can build the story by asking lots of "why"s. Why is the world in its current state? Why is the character in this place in the world? Why is the character the way they are? This video explains the approach with some great examples. I've not personally tried this approach yet, but am planning to use it for my next (third) comic project.

Hopefully this ramble was a little helpful! Feel free to poke me about storytelling anytime… I love stories uwu

[moth-in-the-moon]

I get what you mean. I might sound controversial here but Si Spurrier took Chuck Austen's spot in my list of bad Nightcrawler writers for awhile now.

After this tho ? This whole 6$ mess?? I actually prefer Austen to him. It's incredible.

Should have seen this coming, all the clues were there from the start : Nightcrawler's selective memory on everything he went through, none of his friends caring about him (100× worse than Austen on this one), that bit in Legion of X where we could see Nightcrawler's s3xual fantasies which included a woman that straight up looks like Rogue, the whole Mother Righteous deal, the Golden Child in Nightcrawlers (we went all later season Rick and Morty here) and of course the Margali fiasco, to which I'm still going "why just why" whenever I think about it especially after finding out Orchis actually has a magic user (new oc from Dark X-Men) who captured an alternative version of Nightcrawler + Madelyne Pryor before Fall of X went down (so like why tf couldn't they have another oc or just her be behind Legion of X's horn plot instead of the only good parent Kurt has??)

Just get Si Spurrier away from Nightcrawler forever. I'm begging here

Who are you and how did you find me

Outside of getting an ask that isnt from people I talk to on the daily, i assume, uh. Yeah what's been happening to Kurt has all kinda a big mess.

People can like the retcon and more power to them if they do, but I just. personally dont like how it messes with everything (a la Maximoffs arent Magnetos kids anymore, but somehow worse?) Full on explaination of my thoughts under the read more, be warned though, it might be a bit messy just based on it being me trying to collect my thoughts in a written form

Spurrier has made some very weird choices in the comics, definitly, though not all of them suck IMO.

(I'm probably the one person who thought about how Azazel has basically soul magic and how Kurt could thusly have magic aswell, meaning that Hope Sword being a magic weapon that kurt made in his soul (one which he should not have, but apperantly grew back) satisfied me and me specifically beccause AHA magical kurt!)

BUT YEAH NO, they messed up Margali ALOT, which, read the headline she is my girl, I liked seeing her again but WOW did they not understand her and what she does and the way they characterized her could be considered a form of character-assasination and possibly even. downright horrible considering the fact that she is a roma woman (though lets be real there are many issues with how writers treat the romani characters and as someone who is not romani, I wont speak on it in detail now, cause it's not really my place. but like man); Mr Sinisters rule 63 self was a whole thing, again as my headline says, do not like her., i think her character was handled horribly. Plus they made her like. the reason why margali does magic and as the number one margali fan in the world, thats bullshit. Margali has been sorcerer supreme twice, possibly even trice depending on how you read her being guardian of limbo so having her get to that point cause some fuckin Nathaniel Essex clone was like "teehee i actually gave you magic" and then making her take margalis magic and kill her?? It's bad. (also i dont like the way she looks, why would she look so different from other essex clones, its just. aesthetically weird to me); On the note of the nightcrawlers, I actually quite liked them as a concept, though I think they couldve gotten more creative with their designs. Please make them look like more than just character but hit with a blue coat of paint, theyre a mix of two genetic samples, not a full clone of one character. They are in a sense of biology, children of those two characters, dont make them look boring also dont like how two of them had a baby. they both have 50 percent kurt DNA. thats. thats not gonna be a healthy baby. Do like the baby tough, shout out to the god baby, her concept is way too funny to dislike.

NOW, I will say, reading over the stuff again, i feel like its implying that Raven used a bit of the dna from the baron and azazel for the whole, having a baby thing???

WHICH, if I'm reading that right, might actually mean that they just actually did the most insane move of basically going "actually every bio-parent we've ever given Kurt is Kurts Bio-Parent" and I would actually respect that and it would change my opinion on this comic INSTANTLY because this kind of shark jumpery would be amazing.

But either way, I feel like retconning everything is really bad for everyones characterization, especially Destiny and Mystiques, part of it being the "oh we had to leave you cause future vision said so" feels very much like them trying to find an excuse for why they wouldnt raise their child

Idk it feels weird to have him be raven and irenes beloved darling child that they were forced to give up when you have mystique and destiny not really giving a shit about kurt, like ever previously in the comics.

To me it feels empty and almost like a cheap reference. It isnt something easily inserted in todays canon, years ago, when we didnt have all the baggage of years of interactions, you couldve easily added that fact and explained why they left him, but now, its a mess

Plus they JUST brought Az back in the comics in the dark x-men thing, which. feels like really bad timing, if they just let azazel fade from memory and then do the retcon like "yeah kurt just dreamt all of that demon stuff teehee", it'd be annoying but.

He's in comics.

Recent comics.

Why would you remind everyone of his existence, yknow, the man literally made and designed to be kurts bio-dad down to basically being a red Kurt with straight hair and without ectrodactyly. and then. retcon him being the father.

It feels so weirdly timed, did they not talk to eachother when planning these series??

Also I get that not everyone likes Azazel and his deal, which is fair, he's a kinda one note weirdo guy, but idk man. I like him. I think he's funny, I like villains like him being just annoying pests.

ALSO!! Spider-Kurt is actually one of my favourite things recent comics has done, because FUNFACT there's a character who we only ever see the tombstone off on battle world, from a different universe, called Amanda Wagner-Parker aka Spider-Crawler and. I am kinda obsessed with her?? Like. They actually just gave us a hinted at Kurt/Peter kid a tonne of years ago??? possibly??? like that??? and no one ever talks about her So them making Kurt be buds with Peter and hang out was actually catering to me specifically. That was a good idea. Kurt as spiderman with magic powers was written for my tastes and no one elses ever actually

Also uh, all comic characters are technically ocs so being like "ooo new oc from this" feels a bit dismissive to me, just say character