#nothing's simple man and no one is simple either

[lees-chaotic-brain]

So happy for your 300 followers! For your event, can I please request Nanami. The song is Mine by The Chainsmokers. Genre, maybe keep it cute and fluffy, domestic romance?

WC: 4.1k (holy shit i have no idea how that happened)

CW: reader is called a girl once, angst to fluff, lovers to strangers to lovers, marriage proposal, a ton of sappy dialogue, light swearing, if the readers emotions make no sense because they're all over the place it's because reader is me coded (as always lmao)

a/n: hi vee tysm!!! this somehow became not very cute and fluffy, but i hope the ending makes up for it :') special shout out to @not-enough-homestuck-upinthis @hcdwigs @valentiraa + @yeshnn for help with headcannons for teenage nanami!!!

listen to this while reading

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You had known Nanami since before your days at Jujutsu Tech, your friendship spanning all the way back to middle school when you moved in next door. In high school, the two of you dated, falling deeply in love only for your relationship to end suddenly with the death of Haibara.

One day you were dating your best friend who you knew better than you knew yourself. You knew that he was a bit of a dork who had My Chemical Romance paraphernalia hidden around his room.

You knew that he was shy, and that he placed so much importance on doing the right thing. You knew that when he was thirteen he wanted to learn to play the stylophone and electric guitar so he could start his own band. That he unironically spoke in an old fashioned manner for a few months because he wanted to be “proper.” 

You knew that he always brought extra pens in case you forgot yours; his favorite type of bread, and why he loved it so much. You knew that blue was his favorite color because it reminded him of the ocean, that he wanted to go to Malaysia so he can experience true peace without the chaos of the jujutsu world around him.

You knew everything about him, from the bigger aspects to the small quirks that made him him, then you didn’t. After Haibara’s death the boy you knew and loved just…disappeared. He withdrew into himself, stopped talking to you, didn’t show up for your date, unresponsive when you reached out to him. Then after graduation, he just left. He didn’t break up with you, didn’t even say goodbye. He left a note informing you that he was leaving the jujutsu world, and that was it. 

So when you bumped into him outside the gates of Jujutsu Tech, to say you were surprised was an understatement. Honestly, you had given up hope of meeting him again a long time ago, resigning yourself to remain in this weird limbo where you had no closure but no means of getting it either.

But there he was, completely different from the man you used to know. The lankiness of his teenage day had long been outgrown, replaced instead with sheer muscle and power. His long hair had been cut neatly into a practical style that was low maintenance and kept it out of his face. His shyness had morphed into reserved stoicism.

Locking eyes with him, the two of you stared in silence for some time, neither sure where to even begin speaking. All you knew was you felt like you were looking at a stranger. Not the boy you had once loved.

I look at you and you look at me Like nothing but strangers now

Despite both of you being so different, falling back in love with Nanami Kento was so simple, like slipping into the familiar warmth of a well used hoodie, because you had never truly fallen out of love with him. 

It had only been weeks since you had seen him again outside of the school gates, but you were already back to the way you had been a decade ago; young and in love. It was like nothing had ever happened. Like the past ten years never happened.

The two of you left work together every night and walked over to the food stall you visited every day in high school for dinner. You checked in on each other before and after missions, made sure the other was drinking enough water and taking care of themselves. It wasn’t until Shoko pulled you aside and mentioned it that you realized you had never actually addressed the slight awkwardness in your relationship due to his leaving.

And maybe it was stupid, or selfish, but you didn’t want to talk about it with him. You had missed him so much you just wanted to enjoy spending time with him now that he was back. Your hearts seemed to be the same as they were then, young and burning with the force of your love, so why would you do anything that could potentially jeopardize that? Was it really so bad that you didn’t want to risk extinguishing the passion that seemed to still exist?

Two kids with their hearts on fire Don't let it burn us out

Eventually you realized how much you needed to have the conversation with him. You couldn’t pretend that nothing had happened. For the last ten years you had lived in a weird existence in which he hadn’t broken up with you, so you were technically still together, but he had abandoned you without even a proper goodbye.

Now he was back and the two of you had fallen back into your old relationship without addressing the massive elephant in the room. Up until now you had convinced yourself that you were fine with that, the only thing that mattered was that he had returned. But as the weeks went by you began to realize that you were lying to yourself.

Of course you weren’t okay with what happened. You were angry. You wanted answers. How dare he just disappear one day, then waltz back into your life one random day almost a decade later?! Amping yourself up, you gather the courage to bring up the topic you had spent so much time and energy avoiding.

Which brought you to your current predicament, sitting across from him as you ate dinner together, hyping yourself up for the conversation ahead of you. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you got his attention, setting your chopsticks down in your bowl.

“Listen, I know we’ve both been trying to avoid this conversation, but I’ve been thinking about it lately and I realized some things.” He looks at you intently, something strange crossing his expression before disappearing. Taking his attention as agreement, you take a shaky breath then continue. You can do this. Just like you practiced in your head. Easy as pie.

“I’m not okay with this!” All prior thinking and planning goes flying out the window as the words burst from you, and once the dam broke there was no going back, the words flowing from your mouth as irreversible as a floodgate breaking.

“I’m really not okay with this. I mean, I don’t even know you now! I can’t keep doing this. I can’t allow you to waltz back into my life and my heart when I don’t even  know why you returned! Or even why you left! You said you came back because of your morals. That you couldn’t live with yourself if you sat by as innocent people suffered. But if that’s the only reason you returned, and I’m only a side perk that comes with being part of the jujutsu world, I'm not going to be part of your life at all.”

You take a moment to catch your breath, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you lay down your ultimatum. You were nearly giddy, woozy with relief. It was up to him now, and what he said next. You didn’t have to worry about this any longer. It was all up to him.

“So. Tell me. Do you need me in your life? Am I important? Or am I going to walk out of here tonight and never see you again?”

Think about what you believe in now Am I someone you cannot live without?

In the aftermath of the line you drew in the sand, a boundary you constructed to protect yourself, you find yourself holding your breath. As liberating as it felt to pass the burden onto him, your fears only intensified because it was truly up to him now. 

As much as you talk the big talk, you’re not sure how you’re going to survive if he tells you he doesn’t need you. Because even after ten years, you still don’t know how to live without him. And you really don’t want to learn now.

'Cause I know I don't wanna live without you, yeah

He sat perfectly still for a moment, and you waited for his reaction, your inability to see past his stoic mask just another reminder of everything the two of you had lost. Awkward silence permeates the air, coiling its oily tentacles around your throat and making it hard to breathe. 

You can’t do this. You have to get out of here. Screw standing up for yourself and protecting your heart. You’re not brave enough to sit here and look him in the face as he tells you he doesn’t need you. 

Just as you go to push your chair back and flee, his voice cuts through your panic, its familiar warmth pulling you out of your panic. “I’m sorry.”

Bring it all back to the bar downtown When you wouldn’t let me walk out on you, yeah

You almost break your neck with how fast you meet his eyes, stunned as you notice him fidgeting with the edge of his napkin. You had forgotten that he did that when he was anxious or uncomfortable. Suddenly anger bubbles in your gut, and you explode, unable to hold back any longer.

“What does that even mean at this point?!” Your voice is sharper than you intended, and you see him flinch slightly. “You walked out on me! You disappeared! You didn’t even say goodbye. Nanami I-”

“Kento.” He interrupts you, looking at you oddly. Was he…hurt? You make a vague sound of confusion, too distracted by the pain and guilt in his eyes to formulate a proper response. 

“That’s my name. Kento. I’ve put up with you using my family name these past few weeks, but I can’t tolerate it any longer. To you I am Kento. Never Nanami.” 

Slight vulnerability shines in his eyes, the first real emotion he’s let you see all night. But you can’t bring yourself to care, too caught up in your own anger and rage. “You know what, Nanami?” You place emphasis on his family name, not caring how petty it was. 

“I only call people I’m close to and know well by their first names. And unfortunately for you, I no longer consider you someone I’m close to. You’re a stranger to me now. I don’t know why I’ve been pretending otherwise these past few weeks.”

Sighing, you lower your voice, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah…I have no idea why I’ve been pretending you’re anything more than somebody I used to know. Please, let’s just forget these last couple weeks and go back to the way things were before, each of us leading separate lives.”

You grab your purse and take out your wallet, hoping to pay the bill and get out of there as soon as possible. You went into this night a mess of emotions, willing to let bygones be bygones as long as he told you he still cared. Only for you to realize that you weren’t okay with that, and he’s hurt you too badly for your relationship to recover.

 In the wake of your rapid emotional development, you’re left feeling dull and empty, which probably accounts for why you didn’t realize he was even speaking to you until he reached out across the table and grabbed your wrist.

Distantly you hear him saying your name, but you’re so out of it you don’t look up until he stands and rounds the table, dropping to one knee in front of you as he gently tilts your chin up and takes your hands.

Nanami Kento, all crisp ironed lines and strict discipline, knelt on the ground before you, dirtying the knees of his pristine slacks as he grovels. People around you are staring, and while some distant part of your brain is embarrassed, the vast majority of it is occupied by the feel of his hands holding yours.

You hated yourself. You hated your traitorous hands for seeking the warmth of his, your stomach for filling with butterflies against your heart. You hated your heart and mouth for staging a mutiny against all common sense, hardly believing the words that left your lips.

“I’m sorry.” You blink down at him. “I missed all of that. Do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk?”

Unfettered relief filled his face and within seconds he was flagging down the server and paying the bill, not even allowing you to open your purse. He zipped you up into your coat, making sure  he had all of your belongings and was ushering you out of the restaurant in two minutes flat, as if he was convinced that if he gave you any longer you would change your mind.

Which he wasn’t entirely wrong about. You were already feeling your apprehensiveness creeping back in. Who in their right mind would consider taking someone back just because they knelt on the ground and took your hands. Apparently you, although you didn’t feel like you were in your right mind at the moment (you never were when he was involved).

The two of you loitered awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither of you sure where to go before you finally mustered up your courage and spoke. “There’s a bench in a park around here that I like to go sit on a lot. And it’s fairly secluded, although I doubt many people will be in the park at this time of night.” He just nodded, and the two of you set off for the proposed destination, you leading the way.

Which is how you found yourself perched next to him on your bench, the quiet practically screaming at you. Say something!!! You screeched telepathically at him, hoping he got the message. Please don’t make me regret this. Prove to me that I’m not an idiot for giving you this chance. Please just-

“Listen I-” He cleared his throat, cutting off your attempts at sending him your thoughts. “I know that what I did was unforgivable, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting the hurt I caused you by leaving.”

His shoulders drooped, and you could practically feel the remorse emanating off of him. “Trust me. If there was any way I could go back and time and punch myself in the face I would. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to change my poor decisions.”

“But you can’t.”

“I know that.”

“Can you at least tell me why you did it?” Your voice cracks slightly, and he graciously ignores it. “Can you at least tell me what was going through your mind? What led you to abandoning me without a word? You say you loved me, but if you did, why did you leave?”

“I left because I loved you.” His deep voice is full of regret, and you pause, incredulous. “Kento, that makes no sense.”

“I know that.” He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second before letting it out in a great whoosh of air. “After Haibara died, I realized how powerless I truly was. I was right there, yet I couldn’t save my best friend. Hell, I could barely save myself. The only reason I made it out alive was because reinforcements arrived.”

The desolation in his voice hurt you, so against your better judgment you reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back, and continued, this time with tears hanging on his water line.

“And if I can’t trust myself to keep myself safe how can I trust myself to keep you safe? And you-you’re just  better than me. You’re braver and stronger. I knew that no matter what I said you wouldn’t leave the jujutsu world because you weren’t a coward like me. So I convinced myself that the best option was for me to leave.”

“Kento I-” You start speaking, suddenly flooded with guilt. You had had no idea he was struggling that much. But he simply squeezes your hand and gives you a look that asks you to allow him to continue, so you shut your mouth.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive losing you. That I wouldn’t be able to live knowing that every time you left I might never see you again. And since I wasn’t strong enough to protect you, I decided I needed to leave the jujutsu world. At least then there was a chance you would leave the jujutsu world to follow me. And if  you didn’t, you could be with someone who wasn’t such a selfish coward. Someone who deserves you.”

At this point he was crying, and you were too. Your anger fades away, and in its place comes sorrow and…relief. Sorrow for all the years you lost, but relief because he didn’t leave because he stopped loving you. Relief because he still loved you even after all these years, he hadn’t stopped loving you once.

“Hey.” You brush his tears away, your own tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?”

“I know. I spent every day for the last ten years regretting the decision I made. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to work up the courage to come back to you. But I need you to hear this.” His face grew serious, and he held your face in his warm palms as he looked at you intently.

“I will stay in your life as long as you permit me to, and spend that time repairing the damage I have inflicted. If that is only a week, then that will be the most cherished week of my life. If it is only a month, then I will use every second of it. And if it is the rest of your life, then I will spend the rest of mine loving you.”

He paused, cheeks reddening slightly. “The latter would be my preference. As long as what you plan to do with your life has space for me, I will occupy it gladly. I do not care if that means you leave me in a year, two years, three. I just-”

For the first time since he had reappeared in your life you laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Clutching your stomach and wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, you looked at him, eyes shining.

“Kento.” Your voice was soft, despite the traces of mirth still lingering in it. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t even know what I’m doing for the rest of tonight, let alone for the rest of my life. Why don’t we just take it one day at a time, okay?”

He slumped forwards in relief and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Thank you. Thank you. That sounds much more than okay sweetheart. Sounds perfect, actually.”

You said, "Hey, whatcha doing for the rest of your life?" And I said, "I don't even know what I'm doing tonight"

Time went by, and you relearned everything about the man named Nanami Kento. You learned that he still wanted to go to Malaysia, and that he moped around for a month after his favorite bakery closed down. You learned that he had tried to take up painting as a hobby in his early twenties only to discover he was extremely bad at it and quit, and that he pretends to be reading when Gojo is around so he has an excuse to ignore him.

You noticed that he was less open with his emotions than he used to be, but that didn’t stop him  from expressing his affection in other ways. Be it always greeting you with your favorite pastry and a coffee in the mornings, or going out of his way to profess his feelings towards you, he made sure that you never had another reason to doubt his love for you.

It took time, and while it never fully went away, the hurt and anger faded until it was unnoticeable. When he left you had been in love with the eighteen year old version of him, and you got to experience falling in love with him all over again, this time with his twenty-seven year old self.

Fast forward two years, and the two of you are taking a nighttime walk in the park from two years ago, holding hands as you enjoy the peaceful night air when he suddenly speaks, startling you.

“Love.” You jolt looking up at him. “Yes? What’s…”

Part of you relished in the fact that you could see past his stoic facade straight to what was in his heart again, but tonight the intensity of the emotions swirling in his warm brown eyes caused you to trail off.

They weren’t bad emotions, in fact, they were far from it. He was looking at you like you were his whole world, like he could spend the rest of your life gazing into your eyes and still not have enough of your face. A little flustered under his full attention, you spluttered, then became deathly still.

Maintaining eye contact the entire time, your boyfriend got down on one knee just like he did all those years ago in that restaurant when he was begging for another chance. Except this time he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a velvet ring box. And suddenly a simple, yet elegant diamond was twinkling up at you from where it was nestled in the plush velvet.

You looked at me and I looked at you Like we'd never look away

Your hand flies up, covering your mouth as tears fill your eyes. “Ken are you…?” He smiles tenderly up at you, and the sweetness of the moment absolutely nearly gives you heart palpitations.

“Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on with so much conviction that you can’t help but believe him. “The first time I met you I knew you were the one for me. I-”

“Hold up.” You hold a hand out, cutting him off with a watery giggle. “The first time you met me I was laughing so hard about a dick joke Shoko made that I shot soda out of my nose. That’s what sealed the deal for you?”

He chuckled dryly. “What can I say, I saw a beautiful girl who was unafraid of expressing her joy to the fullest extent. When I heard your laugh, it literally gave me butterflies. It was beautiful, unrestrained and full of joy, just like you are.”

Taking a deep breath, his expression sombered slightly and he continued. “I know that I hurt you when I left. I will never forgive myself for that. And I will never stop being grateful to you for giving me another chance to prove my love to you. I won’t be as bold as to ask you to be mine; I know I don’t deserve that”

At this point you were openly crying, the moonlight glimmering off the unshed tears in his eyes as well.

“But, if you would give me the honor of being yours, of becoming your husband, I promise you won’t regret it. I promise that you will always be supported and valued. I promise that I will stay by your side and love you through thick and thin. So, would you give me the honor of being yours? Of staying by your side and loving you for the rest of our lives?”

You fling yourself at him and wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. “Save the vows for the wedding loverboy, what are you going to say when we get married now that you’ve already made all of your promises to me? Huh?”

“When we get married?” His arms wrap around you as his voice trembles. “So, is that a yes?”

You lean back the salt from your tears mixing as you plant a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“Of course it is. You’re mine. That’s something that’s never going to change. However, Mr. Nanami Kento, would you give me the honor of being yours?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Of course I will. Is that even a question you have to ask?”

And as he slips the ring onto your finger (it fits perfectly, of course) you know that being his is the one decision you will never regret.

And you said, "I never regretted the day that I called you mine" So I call you mine

taglist: @ponderingmoonlight @arlerts-angel @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa

[snzleclerc]

pt 3!!

here you can find the other parts of pour toujors

-

"Hey love!" Pascale welcomes me with open arms at her doorstep. Despite being in Monaco, their house isn't overly fancy. It's the same simple yet beautiful home since I met Arthur.

"Hey Pas!" My smile always lights up when I see her, and her hug brings me back to my childhood.

She greets the boys with kisses on their cheeks and grabs the groceries, turning her gaze towards me. "Lou, come help me with dinner, let's catch up." She says with a warm look at the end; I already know what our conversation will be about.

The boys head towards the living room, and I follow Pascale to the kitchen. She knows I'm terrible in the kitchen, and it's obvious I won't be much help, so I sit on a stool, leaning on the counter, waiting for someone to say something.

We sit in a loud silence for a while until I decide to break it. "They called me two days ago, said they wanted to talk. I guess I should give them a chance, right?" I say with uncertainty in my voice. This has happened before, and I don't know why I'm letting it happen again. I just can't seem to avoid it.

She comes closer and places her hand on mine for comfort. "Lou, we've seen this before, you know where this will lead, it's only hurting you more."

"But despite all that, they're my parents, Pas."

"I've told you many times, parents are those who care for you, not just those who brought you into this world." Tears well up in my eyes; how can I be so naive to trust them after all this? But worse, how can I be so foolish to want to give them another chance and just can't seem to stop?

"Look, I just want what's best for you, Loulou. You're my heart's daughter, and you know I hate seeing my kids sad, right?" She continues with a soothing voice that calms my heart amidst all this mess.

"I feel so useless. I've tried everything for them to love me, but it seems like nothing ever worked. It was always my sister, always. She was the princess of the house, it was hell. And maybe the fault isn't on either of us, but on those monsters I can call my parents. I just wish they'd love me for a second, is that too much to ask?" I let it all out, the words and my tears. I can't talk much about this with Arthur. Yes, he'd understand, but it's not the same.

Little did I know that someone was behind the door listening. Charles.

He enters the kitchen silently; only Pascale saw and didn't tell me anything. She knows that, despite Charles not being my best friend, he would always support and help me with anything I needed.

Charles was the only one, besides Pascale, who knew all about this. Well, almost everything. She knew she could trust him and that he would give advice to me, even if not directly.

He starts approaching and sits next to me, and when I notice, I quickly wipe my tears. Until he asks his mother for something. "Mom, could you leave us alone for a moment, please?"

She nods and leaves the kitchen, leaving just the two of us side by side. Him watching me and me with a distant look, focused on the table at the same time.

"Lapine, with what little I heard just now, I already understand all your feelings," he lies a bit. "You're such a strong person, and I admire you a lot. I know we're not that close, but I wish we were. But most importantly, I want you to know that you can always count on me, no matter what, I'll always be here for you, okay?" He finishes, and my tears keep falling. No man besides Arthur had ever said that to me before; I couldn't hold back.

"You know, Charlie? I see you and your siblings all happy and being treated the same way, and I wonder why my family isn't like that." His fingers go towards my face to gently wipe the liquid flowing from my eyes.

"Look, Lapine, every family has its weaknesses. Do you think I don't wonder every day why Papa and Jules are gone? I know, it's hard, but we have to accept it over time. You've been our family since the day you met Arthur, don't worry, we're here for you, always."

He finishes saying, and I pull him into a hug without hesitation; those words warmed my heart immensely. "Don't let them back into your life, Lapine, you don't deserve that."

[baldurs-gape]

Hi I absolutely love your fics "Shores" & "Wish'n'bone"! I really like your characterization for both Astarion and Gale in your stories. I've read your past works when I was in the DBH fandom and it's a joy to see you in this fandom as well. I wish you a lovely day and I'm excited for future content!

YOU!!! I remember you from DBH! Oh man, what a blast from the past. It brings me so much joy that we've bumbled into another shared fandom. As you probably know from way back then, I love to reply to asks with a little ficlet of thanks. Think of it like a cat bringing you a leaf and leaving it as a gift on your doorstep.

One Night Only

Gods were cruel without even meaning to be. It wasn't intentional, they were simply unable to comprehend mortal desires and the passage of time. After the crown had been flung into the Chionthar, Gale had regretted it within days. He struggled with living in the Underdark, missed the sun fiercely but his love for Astarion was stronger. It didn't mean that getting used to such a change was easy. He tried, pushed himself and threw himself into his new life with as much vigour as he could. There was so much to study, so many vampire spawn to teach about the modern world. And yet the siren song of natural light still called. He saw it on Astarion too. Felt guilty because while he himself could go out into the sun if he wanted, Astarion did not have such luxury. Which was where the blasted crown came into play.

Locating it, retrieving the pieces and pondering its reassembly was all well and good but it wasn't the reality Gale wanted. Those long, dark days in the Underdark had been enough to help firm up his resolve. He didn't want the power of the crown, didn't want the alienating experience of godhood. As it turned out, Gale was a simple man with simple desires. Taking the crown, he shoved it into a bag and marched to the Stormshore Tabernacle with determination.

The bag landed at the feet of Mystra's statue in a gruff offering.

"I know you're not talking to me. But hear me out."

Nothing happened. Really, Gale shouldn't have been surprised but he was still disappointed. Leaving the bag there, he went back home, guiltily basking in the sunshine for as long as he could. What was unexpected was for Elminster to show up a couple of days after he got back.

"I have never seen anyone vex a deity more than you, Gale," he said by way of greeting. The fact he had literally walked into a nest of vampires didn't seem to bother him. "And the fact you do it with such lack of awareness is even more astounding."

"It's not just deities, Mystra isn't that special." Next to Gale, Astarion had his arms crossed over his chest in an open display of hostility. "I live with the man and if he doesn't vex me twice a day then I start worrying he's been replaced by a shifter."

Playing at being insulted, Gale raised a finger with a practiced "hey now" which was cut off by Elminster.

"I do not wish to get in the middle of a lovers' quarrel. Please remember, I am but a humble messenger of Mystra and have travelled far to see you."

Nose scrunching, Astarion shook his head. "Cheese and wine are in short supply down here. The closest on offer is three day old bulette blood."

Which was to say, Elminster wasn't welcome in their home and he considered Gale's private stash of treats off limits for their sudden guest. Something warm bloomed in Gale's chest at the protective aura Astarion exuded.

"As kind and generous as your offer is, I shall pass." Elminster pulled something from his pocket and passed a paper wrapped package to Gale. "A little extra from her, don't waste it. The orb shouldn't bother you anymore either."

As soon as the delivery was made, Elminster smiled. "It was good to see you. Maybe you'll find happiness this time round."

With that he was off and disappearing into the dark.

"Crusty old cheese fiend," Astarion huffed. "Just who does he think he is, waltzing into our home like that?"

"Mystra's Chosen." Oddly, saying that didn't hurt Gale. He didn't miss what he had, he sometimes missed what he'd thought he'd had. The two were very different thing.

Later, when Gale managed to get a bit of time to himself, he pulled the parcel out. Carefully unwrapping it, he stared at the amulet and the tag attached 'For the one you chose.' It pulsed with power and once upon a time it would have been his biggest wish to feed it to the orb which plagued him. Now, he examined it with suspicion and curiosity.

"What fascinating trinket are you poring over today?" As Astarion spoke, he walked up to Gale and hugged him from behind, hooking his chin over a warm shoulder. As he peered at the amulet, he hummed. "It's pretty."

"Pretty powerful." Gale gave up trying to inspect it for safety before showing it to Astarion, so he grabbed the tag and flipped it. "I don't trust it."

Eager hands grabbed for it, Astarion could never resist anything, especially it if had his name on it. He weighed the amulet and hummed. "Only one way to find out."

Before Gale could do anything as he turned, Astarion put the amulet on. It glowed a rich purple against his chest for a couple of seconds then became inert once more. Nose scrunching, Astarion looked down at himself.

"Well, at least it'll fetch a copper of two at some point."

All the magic was gone and Gale rached to touch the husk of an amulet that remained. As he brushed against it though, so did Astarion's hand. With a gasp, he froze and made to grab the pale hand.

"You-" Words eluded him and Astarion stared at him with amusement and rubbed at his chest absentmindedly. Gale tried again, "Astarion! You're warm!"

Both of his hand enveloped Astarion's newly warm ones. From there it was all too easy to lay a hand over his chest and feel the steady thump of a newly beating heart.

"Huh." Astarion stared at where Gale felt his heartbeat. "I thought something felt off. Assumed it was indigestion from spore infused blood."

A disembodied voice echoed in their heads.

The spell will hold until his next sleep, make the most of it.

A day. That's all they had. Gale wanted to rejoice and rage at the same time. If it was within Mystra's ability to cure Astarion of his affliction, she jolly well could have just done that rather than devise a spell that would remove it for a day. At least Astarion didn't seem to be taking such a dour view for a change.

"Well then, let's not waste it." He offered Gale and arm. "Shall we?"

Stepping out into the warm sunlight was a blessing and Gale almost missed the moment Astarion stepped out of the shadows. Face tipped up into the rays, his eyes fluttered closed and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

It was almost like their adventures all over again. Astarion could walk in the sun, needed no permission to enter an inhabited area. But more than that, he was living, breathing and warm, craved food and drink that had tasted like ash and vinegar for so long. Naturally, the first place Gale led them to was a tavern where he ordered anything Astarion desired. Just watching him eat, eyes closing in bliss as flavours exploded on his tongue was beautiful. As was discovering just what a sweet tooth he had. Pastries, cakes, fruits, they were all eagerly sampled and appreciated. Gale took such pleasure in bringing him new things to try, cost be damned.

"I don't think I can eat another bite," Astarion said, words muffled by a hand over his mouth as he tried not to burp. His other hand rested over his full stomach and he giggled. It was infectious and Gale laughed with him, on the verge of bursting with happiness.

"Let me show you some other delights."

That might have come out more salacious than intended because all Gale had meant was the wonders of ice cream and warming up lips with kisses between spoonfuls. Almost drunk on happiness, Astarion followed and they strolled the streets, hand in hand. As beautiful as the Underdark could be, its colours couldn't compare to the sun lit expanse of the living.

Alas, time couldn't stand still. They only had the day, sitting on a ledge near their return to the Underdark and they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Sighing, Astarion cuddled into Gale with a small shiver. The temperature was dropping now that there was no more sunshine to bathe in.

"Thank you." The words were a rarity to fall from Astarion's lips, to the point that Gale actually startled.

"Whatever for?"

"You must have done something to get me this. Whatever it was, thank you."

"You're not mad that it's just for one day? When it's probably in her power to make it every day?"

Softly, Astarion hummed and shrugged. "At least we got a day. It's more than I could have ever hoped for. Didn't think I'd ever see the sun again and live." A large yawn interrupted anything else Astarion was going to say and he snuggled more comfortably against Gale. They knew the spell was going to wear off when he fell asleep but Gale had hoped it would be a while longer yet. Judging by how Astarion forced himself to sit up, he had remembered too.

At every turn Astarion fought falling asleep. He got up, paced then sat down, tried not to slump, flopped back and stared at the clear sky. Prattling on about the stars, he kept yawning and stubbornly blinking to stay awake. Even when he settled against Gale's chest, he furiously tried to not fall asleep.

"Please don't let me go," he whispered and clutched at Gale's hand, pressing it against his still beating heart. "I don't want to go back."

Kissing his slightly sweaty forehead, Gale wished he could reassure and promise that it was all going to be fine. The best he could do was try and ease the harsh, bitter truth.

"I'll be there with you. I'm not going anywhere, not until you or time demands the breaking of our bond."

"That'll be the day I shall greet the sun again." As far as declarations of love went, that was probably as dramatic and deep as Astarion had ever been. It earned him another kiss which he yawned into.

Tucking him against his body, Gale desperately wanted things to be different. "It's okay. It'll all be okay. You need to rest. I'll watch over you."

"I don't want to."

Truth be told, Gale didn't want it either but it wasn't like they had a choice. Against him, Astarion jerked awake just before he nodded off. It was a futile battle, each desperate grasp at wakefulness was prolonging the inevitable. Gale buried his nose in white curls and clutched at Astarion tighter, palm still against his chest. He could feel the way Astarion went lax, how his heart slowed down, beats further and further apart, more and more faint until it stilled once more. In the cool night air, his body lost its warmth. Only the habitual breaths he tended to take gave sign that he was more than a dead body. Eyes squeezing shut, Gale tried to will away the tears. They had a day together in the sun, it was going to have to be enough for now. But he'd been given a new avenue to explore. One god or another was going to listen to him and give Astarion the freedom he deserved, even if it was the last thing Gale ever did.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Cass Cain Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Before Gotham by Hinn_Raven - Rated G

Before Cassandra Cain became Batgirl, before Jason Todd became the Red Hood, before Bruce Wayne, before No Man's Land, before everything, Jason and Cassandra have a chance meeting.

backwards and in high heels by destiny919 - Rated G

Cass sits placidly tied to an uncomfortable chair, letting fear show on her face while feeling mildly irritated. Her captors keep shouting at her and don't understand sign language. She has already decided Batgirl will be teaching all of them the sign for 'S'. Repeatedly. But it's not Batgirl who got kidnapped, it's Cassandra Wayne.

This Might As Well Happen by goatsghost - Rated T

At a gala, Cass notices someone slipping something in her drink, but she’s not able to decline without bringing unwanted attention to herself. Here we go, she thinks, and tips the drink back, downing it in one go.

Zugzwang by Hinn_Raven - Rated T

Stephanie Brown is dead at the hands of the Black Mask after War Games. Cassandra Cain knows this. So when the Court of Owls sends an assassin to kill Bruce Wayne, a Talon with long, blonde hair, Cass knows she’s just seeing ghosts… right?

Maybe with a Shift in Planets by SilverSkiesAtMidnight - Rated G

The shadow is a silhouette on the edge of the roof. She can’t see his eyes behind the blank white lenses of his cowl, but she can feel the cunning weight of his gaze as it rakes over her, a pair of predators recognizing one another. She keeps her posture relaxed. She looks back at him with steady eyes. She is not prey. She will not allow the kind boy behind her to be prey either.

diamonds are a girl's best friend by destiny919 - Rated G

Cass finds the jewelry boxes up in the west attic, one dusty afternoon not long after Bruce adopts her.

Rings by justaddwriter - Rated G

When Cass acts a little strange over a new piece of jewelry, Bruce starts to get suspicious. And worried. And confused. Turns out he really had nothing to worry about.

do I dare disturb the universe? by Hinn_Raven - Rated T

Cassandra Cain was falling, and there were stars. When she landed, she found herself stranded in a universe where there never was a Batman. Good thing that she’s a detective.

the journey & the destination (are the same) by britishparty - Rated G

The first time Cassandra speaks to Batman, it's in the language David Cain taught her. The way bodies speak is simple. Cassandra watches Bruce Wayne go, and thinks that people are not. She goes back to Barbara. "I want," she says, and stops. She doesn't know the words for what she wants. There's a story Cassandra heard once, about a boy made out of wood. He wanted something like this, too. - there are a lot of steps in between being a weapon and being a person. Cassandra Cain becomes Batgirl. Batgirl becomes Cass Wayne. Cass isn't sure what it means, to be a person, and Batman isn't very good at teaching that. luckily Bruce has a protege or five to help her figure it out.

Take a Break by Sohotthateveryonedied - Rated G

Cassandra Cain is used to working in less-than-perfect physical shape. In her unconventional childhood, she suffered her fair share of broken bones and open wounds, and she weathered them without complaint or weakness. It’s one of the many prices of being a fighter, and so Cass embraced it. She pushed herself through everything that tried to hinder her. It eventually became part of her training—learning how to fight through whatever weaknesses tried to hold her back, despite the pain, despite the slip-ups. If Cassandra’s arm was broken, David Cain simply made her fight with the other one. If she broke a rib, he made sure she took twice as many hits until the pain became an afterthought. The same went for when she was sick.

Meet Me Where You're Going by Hinn_Raven - Rated T

When things get complicated in Hong Kong, Cass requests help from Batman Inc. Unbeknownst to her, Bruce dispatches not one of her brothers, but Stephanie Brown, who Cass has not spoken to since she gave up the Batgirl mantle. Steph is eager to reunite with her best friend, but things between them are complicated. Not the least of the problems is the fact that Steph might be falling in love… but of course, Cass is straight, so Steph really shouldn’t dwell on that. Friendship and romance, conspiracy and adventure await the two of them as they try to unravel a complicated plot that seeks to stop Batman Incorporated before it can truly begin.

something other than violence by TheyReapWhatWeSow - Rated G

"In the relative quiet of the kitchen, Alfred noticed immediately when the kitchen door creaked open, and a swish of fabric slipped inside. With his usual steadiness, Alfred didn’t hesitate for a second, trying not to let on to the little intruder that he’d noticed their entry. A few silent moments passed without a peep from the visitor, and Alfred wondered how long they would hold out, hidden under the far ledge of the counter he was working on. " OR A young Cassandra Cain finds herself in the domain of a master, and Alfred finally gets to meet his newest grandchild.

carbon first, then light by cassiopeia721 - Rated G

Seeing Catwoman in action makes Cassandra realize that her life has room for beauty in it, now.

“Oh this? Just a little something that caught my eye.” Catwoman draws her bag back around to her front. Her long, pointy nails run along the black leather—smug, smug, smug—and then she unzips the bag and— —a glittering diamond the size of Cass’s fist, sparkling like the stars in the low light of the roof they’re standing on. Catwoman chuckles. The lines of her body have softened a little. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” she asks lowly, and Cass abruptly realizes she’s leaned in close to get a better look.

Heaven Knows by orphan_account - Rated M

• 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐔: You feel your soulmate's pain. Most people think that soulmates are romantic, and that whoever is your soulmate is supposed to be the one you were meant to be with. But that isn't always the case. Because, for Cass and Tim, nothing was romantic. They were siblings, best friends, through and through. But they were not lovers. They were platonic soulmates. And neither of them would have it any other way.

Are You Winning? by blaircow - Rated T

Cass didn’t often feel the need to exude confidence. She felt confident most of the time but she also knew fear kept her loose and on her toes for the unexpected. In the face of two anxious younger brothers, she needed to embody every ounce the older, reliable sibling.

[godjustkys]

Could you do Joey Tribbiani dating headcannons please?

| FRIENDS headcanons

please give requests.

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

RATING: SFW/NSFW.

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

STATUS: In a relationship.

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

Pairing: AMAB!reader x Joey Tribbiani

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

Warning(s): so, it's. A lot. Slight exhibitionism, mentions of overstim and bondage,,

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

A/n: i love that goofy mf so much, good god. And I did this request so quickly for some reason..

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

1 - Joey was awkward around you at first. Not only were you his bisexual awakening, but you're the first man he's ever dated. He wasn't ashamed of it, nor you. He was just.. trying to figure out how to be in a relationship with you, how to keep you. Joey thought that it was soo different from dating a girl, but it really wasn't.

2 - Once he came around and got significantly more comfortable around you, he would religiously speak about dates he wants to go on with you. He would come up with new, weirdly-adorable ideas each time, yet he would never execute them.

3 - Whenever you praise him, even if it's just a simple 'good job' leaving your mouth, he acts like that ↑. All flustered and sheepish, almost coy.

4 - BACK HUGS. he adores physical touch to the core, but hugs from the back are his go-to move. He would also say 'boo' with a grin when he'd hug you from behind. Joey thought it would scare you - it never does.

5 - Flirts with you at any chance he gets. Cheesy, corny pick-up lines in the middle of a serious moment cause he thinks you look attractive when angry/arguing.

6 - you cannot tell me this dude does not dance at random times, anywhere. He hears music he likes? Dancing. It's quiet? He dances to the music in his head, even if his movements are stiff and subtle.

7 - speaking of music, Joey will SHAME you for your music taste if he doesn't like the song. He'll go on a full rant, argue with you about it, then leave mid argument because he realized you were winning. He, exactly like in the gif, did the L sign to you as he left.

8 - After serious arguments, which you rarely have, Joey will apologise first, although very hesitantly. Either he's coming to you with a gift in his hands for compensation or he speaks to you in a soft and somber tone, giving a full speech. Needless to say, he's only stubborn when he doesn't feel guilt or regret.

9 - When you're talking and he's listening, he's really not. He's staring at you, admiring to the fullest. His gaze will never leave your figure. The moment you ask "are you listening?" Joey shrugs his shoulders because he knows for a fact he didn't listen to a thing you said, but then again he doesn't want to lie to you. You'd see right through him anyway.

10 - He's not shy in public, not about you nor your relationship. He is not afraid of PDA. Actually, he almost always holds your hand or has an arm around you. He loves spoiling you as well.

11 - He's so touchy. So so so touchy, even in public. One time, when you were at a restaurant, Joey started jerking you off under the table. Ecstatic feeling, truly, but so glad no one ever found out.

12 - Joey is not that sensitive, he lasts long and is proud of it. He brags about that to you, almost like he's begging for you to overstimulate him. Hence the fact, you did, once. Best night of his life - regrets not trying something like that sooner.

13 - LOVES you touching his pecs, oh my god. Despite not being sensitive, he is vocal and rambles during sex a lot. Nothing but praise, not fond of degradation.

14 - FOREPLAY IS SO IMPORTANT TO HIM. He wants to get riled up before sex, he wants to need it from you. He'd beg if you asked him to — generally obedient.

15 - Night shower sex = best sleep of your life after. His aftercare is good, really good. Makes sure you're okay, that you're clean, comfortable, gets you a drink or food if you want it. It is your aftercare that Joey longs for. He doesn't know why but you do it so much better than he does (in his eyes), even though your aftercare isn't vastly different from his.

16 - When Joey asks for a massage from you, it'll most definitely end up in sex if only you're in the mood for it. He moans and grunts when you massage him ONLY for the sake of you getting you hot and bothered.

17 - He hasn't tried a ton of kinks that he thinks he might have, but you ended up agreeing with his request to try bondage. Not the full BDSM type, but you had his wrists tied during it. Joey hated it because he couldn't touch you properly, but at the same time, he loved the thrill of it. He had bruises on his wrist the next day..

18 - he's all for quickies. Whether it would be after a stressful day, or just during a trip, in a secluded area. Not afraid of getting caught, at all.

19 - blowjobs. He doesn't care if he's the one receiving it or if he's the one giving oral. Just, blowjobs. He says it feels like "putting on warm fuzzy socks after a long walk on a cold winter day."

20 - Pinning him to a wall and acting dominant makes him hard very quickly. Melts under your touch, shivers, stutters, his breath gets heavy and erratic, is stiff and tense. Absolutely adores it though.

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

niam. :3

[star-centric]

CW: gender neutral reader, just my messy thoughts after the latest chapter (🥲), modern AU, a little sprinkle of angst at the end

Just imagine Choso as your partner and being so deeply in love with you.

The man is absolutely whipped over you and has no shame admitting it. Yuuji and his other brothers once got him a custom shirt with your selfies and the phrases I Love My Partner and #1 Simp on it for the holidays just as a joke- Choso loved it so much that he refused to take it off for the rest of the night. No one could stop staring when you invited your family and his parents over for dinner that night, seeing him standing proud. All you could do is shake your head while his brothers cackled (Choso didn’t care though- he loved the shirt genuinely).

He’s also so touchy-feely with you too. No matter how long you’ve been together, he always has to have some form of touch with you. His PDA isn’t extreme- simply holding hands, having your pinkies locked, or a hand resting on your waist is enough. In the privacy of your own home, his palm is either resting on your thigh drawing circles into your skin or he brings you into his side. Choso cherishes every moment that he can have his hands on you, even as he goes to sleep with his arm wrapped around you. It leaves a burning sensation for him each time, shooting the same warmth into his stomach that he had when he was still admiring you from afar.

Choso is the type of partner that he’s satisfied just being in your presence alone. He’s not the super talkative type, so sometimes he likes to just observe you. Even if you’re just doing laundry, he’ll stare at you with the softest eyes imaginable. You’re just existing and it’s one of the best things to ever happen to him.

Choso loves to listen- hearing you ramble about whatever topic that’s interesting to you is pleasant to him (even if he has no clue what you’re taking about lol). The moment you start speaking you have his immediate attention. If you start to second guess about the conversation saying it’s stupid, he’s quick to reassure you that nothing you say is dumb. You could be talking about the clouds and he’s already locked in.

Choso’s the protective type- he won’t baby you buuut why don’t you let him take care of whatever you want done? Like with something simple as cooking- he’s offered to do it so much that he’s actually improving. And if you’re going out for the night drinking with your friends, Choso is already waiting to pick you up with water and ibuprofen outside. You’ll still have your independence but let him take care of you.

Choso being so in love with you that he’s willing to sacrifice himself. He wants to see you smile, to have you happy- and he will do anything and everything in his power to foresee that. The soft kisses he presses to your lips or to the crown of your head every day before he leaves portray that. He couldn’t imagine life without you anymore and vice versa.

Which is why it hurts so much to wake up without him by your side, the silver ring adorning your finger almost stinging you, but you refuse to take it off. It’s one of the last things that will remind you of the love Choso had got you.

The tears won’t stop falling as you crawl into your empty bed, a painful reminder that he’s truly gone- and won’t be coming back.

[sarucane]

Why did Ed think becoming a fisherman made any sense at all?

Seriously, this was always a ridiculous idea. Stede gets zero blame for laughing the first time Ed says it--it's an even crazier and more extreme whim than Ed saying "we'll go to China." And it's reasonable that it blindsides Stede for Ed to be leaving--a few hours ago Ed was making Stede breakfast in bed and taking Stede out to his favorite restaurant, and now he's leaving forever. That's a hell of a mindfuck there. So why does Ed think it makes sense to follow this whim?

Ed starts this episode by throwing away his leathers. He's trying to discard and excise the 'kraken' part of his personality, trying to consciously transform into something else (hence wearing Button's clothes).

At first, he's also trying to embrace being with Stede.

He volunteers information that shows how important Stede is to him by describing the mermaid vision. But, just like when he told Stede about how "sometimes it's nice to just be patient," Ed's not directly owning his feelings here. He's skimming right past the fact that it was he, himself, who was choosing (unconsciously, but still choosing) to die, and his bond to Stede is why he came back. In fact, the closest he comes to actually saying he felt a certain way is by admitting he panicked over the twine.

And Stede, who just feels so secure in this relationship right now, more comfortable in his skin than we've ever seen him, just does not get Ed's insecurity. He doesn't reassure Ed by saying "the breakfast is great with or without the twine" he says "it actually made it!" And when Ed tells about the vision, Stede doesn't seem to register how big a deal it was.

They're not communicating here, they're just not. They've had this very intimate experience, but there's still distance between them. The visuals reinforce this: they're at opposite ends of the bed, they don't come close to touching at any point in the scene. Ed's dressed and Stede's comfortably naked.

Ed snuck out of bed and went to throw his leathers away by himself. He doesn't tell Stede what he's done, and Stede doesn't comment on Ed walking around in Buttons' clothes. Ed's thrown away the kraken--and then he watches Stede embrace being "a sea god."

And this fear and disconnection to Stede goes right back to how Ed's been acting ever since he came back. He's not been opening up to Stede. He's not been willing to get vulnerable with Stede again; he doesn't trust himself not to wreck it and get his heart broken, and he doesn't trust Stede not to break his heart. The filmmaking choices (bless this amazing meta for explaining it all) have been signaling this ever since they found each other again: they love each other, but they're on different wavelengths.

Ed's trust in Stede is brittle, even before he gets the idea that he and Stede want different things out of life (piracy vs anything-but-piracy). So, Ed goes out and sits with himself. Then he takes Izzy's suggestion and he listens to himself, to his desire not to live a certain life anymore.

But rather than deciding to talk to Stede about this, he decides he's going to leave before the conversation even starts.

Ed gets really, really close to real communication with Stede here. He admits that he doesn't feel safe in the relationship, and that the speed and intensity that Stede has reveled in have made Ed feel less safe.

And even now, even though he lost all track of Ed for a big chunk of the day and now he's being surprised by deep withdrawal--Stede is still all in. He could have been heartbroken or angry. He could have panicked and apologized, or frozen and shut down the conversation.

Instead, Stede listens. And he tries to make good on what he told Ed: "I love everything about you."

But Ed doesn't really hear this, because he doesn't trust Stede, the connection between them, or himself. Because "Trust no one" includes not trusting oneself.

Rather than engaging with what Stede actually says, Ed starts ranting, and uses his own insecurities to push Stede away. Stede's right, it is panic.

Stede mirrors Ed's body language all through this part of the scene. He gets what's happening, understands insecurity and what it can trigger (particularly related to an insecurity of "I'm bad for you you're better off without me") deeply--which is why it's so easy for him to forgive this later.

But while Stede understands exactly what's going on now that Ed's finally talking to him directly, for Ed it's all confusing and happening much too fast. So he shuts down, lashes out, and bails out.

Figuring himself out is complicated, navigating his relationship with Stede is complicated, trust and self-realization are complicated. Fishing, on the other hand, is simple. Unlike love or psychological integration, there's no risks in fishing.

[bredforloyalty]

i don't think we do luv i don't think we do

[insertdisc5]

🎮 HEY I WANNA MAKE A GAME! 🎮

Yeah I getcha. I was once like you. Pure and naive. Great news. I AM STILL PURE AND NAIVE, GAME DEV IS FUN! But where to start?

To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:

SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!

Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup

Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity

Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty

RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)

engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?

✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨

ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :

Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!

GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!

Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!

BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!

-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!

-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.

-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.

-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.

-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye

[primofate]

[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap

Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.

Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips

Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader

Alhaitham

Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.

"Need something?"

You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.

There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.

"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"

Ayato

Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"

"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.

The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"

Baizhu

Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.

The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.

You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.

"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.

"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.

"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"

Cyno

He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.

"Is something the matter?"

You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"

Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.

He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.

Diluc

Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.

From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.

"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.

"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"

You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.

You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.

"I'll always be here, Diluc,"

Itto

The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.

"Y-Y-Y/N?!"

"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.

"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.

You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".

...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.

Kaeya

Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.

"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.

"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.

"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"

He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.

"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"

He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"

Lyney

"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.

It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.

"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.

By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"

Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"

Neuvillette

Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.

You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.

"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.

If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.

Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?

"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.

"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.

Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.

As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.

He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.

"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.

"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.

"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.

"101 ways to make you scream,"

[shotmrmiller]

anyway the original thought was how simon is too quiet. he hardly makes noise when he walks, his movement for how big he is almost paradoxical. tank-sized man who's light on his feet. he moves like a shadow, probably thinks himself one since he's only ever in the darkest corners with the best view.

so, he's quiet in bed too. utterly silent, it worried you at first because is he okay? is he not enjoying himself?

after the mildly awkward clarification, he started showing his 'appreciation' through touch. a tightening of hands on your waist, or curling a hand around the back of your neck to pull you down and swallow your moans.

but even in the throes of his pleasure, he. was. silent.

so you make it your goal to get noises out of him. with that rich timbre of his, you just know that one low moan from him would have your knickers sodden.

his voice should honestly be illegal.

but how, is the question?

clothes? little slips of flimsy fabric that cost far too much money for the tiny bit of surface area they cover?

spreader bar? plug? cock ring?

nothing breaks him; his will is of iron.

no. it was something so simple, so infuriatingly simple.

dirty talk.

not just any dirty talk either, it had to be about you giving yourself to him.

all you'd said was, "god take your pleasure from me."

he'd groaned, for the first time ever, and you spewing obscene nonsense til he came.

"take what's yours, si."

"love how you fill me up so perfectly."

he came violently when you said, "only yours."

[diapause]

in an era not sure what

[djljpanda]

Lucifer Morningstar X Fallen Exorcist Reader

Ever since his split from Lilith Lucifer has been a reck feeling like no one can love him, need him, or understand him again

You have been an exorcist for a couple of thousand years now being one of the best exorcists Heaven could ever ask for

But deep down you always felt bad for those you had killed feeling like yes Hell is for those who have done wrong but what about those who did the wrong things for the right reasons

So on the next extermination day you tried to run away from it all but when Adam found out he took it upon himself to kill you

You were able to get away before Adam could finish you off but nothing could prepare you for meeting Lucifer himself

For some reason Lucifer took you in and helped you out and yes you did come out to him about you being a “fallen angel” and your ideals on heaven, earth, and hell

Lucifer just sat there and listened and for the first time since Lilith someone understood him

Now at first you two became roommates in a way, mostly helping him out with his work, giving him duck ideas, being his bodyguard and secretary, and you did try to push him into talking to Charlie more but you understood on why he couldn’t do it himself

You did face palm as when he called her all he did was tell her to have that meeting with Adam, at least it’s a start

Charlie dose know of you but saw you more as her fathers secretary or his best friend, like an aunt, she is happy how you think there is a way to get sinners in to heaven and how you told her if she ever needs help or to talk to someone you are just quick call

Lilith dose know of you and you may have never seen her face to face she is happy someone is keeping her ex happy

Now if you ever get together it would be the best for the both of you cause I’m sure you would want to confess first but with the thoughts of you killing his people and Lilith, it just made you hesitant but with a simple duck jester (making a duck quack an “I love you”) Lucifer confessed his feelings to you

Charlie I think would be happy for her dad to have found someone and yes at first she did see you as her aunt but she is happy to call you her step parent sand she isn’t afraid of telling everyone that either

That’s one of the major reason on why Lucifer likes you, his daughter loves you like a parental figure

This Lucifer is just a sad boy so if you just sit there and cuddle him he would love you forever and if add words of praise he is just melting

Definitely will vent to you cause he is that comfortable around you and he is happy that you feel the same way when you vent

You always support his duck creations and yes late nights would consist of you two role playing with the ducks, when you two started dating he made three duck versions of you, him, and Charlie all matching clothes sitting next to each other, this man had a whole collection of duck versions of you and he was embarrassed when you found out but you called it cute

When extermination day hits he could see how tense you get and when you told him on what happened before he found you he couldn’t help but hate Adam more and so every Extermination day Lucifer would hold your hand and comfort you may even play a little music and it just grew more loving when you two started dating

You do help out with Lu Lu World as it’s one of Lucifer’s passion projects and no one could believe how upset you were when Mammon created Loo Loo land, you almost put your exterminator skills to use but Lucifer stopped you and let Mammon have his way cause he didn’t want to argue with Mammon so you just had to let it go

You both do play music together as when you were both angels all you did was play music, duets and you can’t tell me you, Lucifer, and Charlie didn’t sing together once

You remember seeing Lucifer’s wings for the first time and how amazed you were as you kept complementing him and that just made his face all red and what made you stop was when he commented o how your wings could have been more pretty then his, you just smile at him

Now here you two have more of a bodyguard/ secretary and famous person kind of relationship even though he may not need it he likes keeping you around and that just help made his feelings grow for you

[saintobio]

blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure. 

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl. 

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies. 

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy. 

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more. 

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect. 

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated. 

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed. 

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did. 

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?” 

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.” 

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair. 

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?” 

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations. 

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh. 

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.  

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo. 

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more. 

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him. 

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity. 

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them? 

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?” 

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.” 

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?” 

Was it really that much of a shock? 

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter. 

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?” 

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.” 

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?” 

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly. 

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.” 

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out. 

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.” 

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.” 

Fuck. 

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so. 

“Sukuna?” 

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—” 

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.” 

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down. 

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed. 

This was going to be a big problem 

Just what was he thinking? 

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble” 

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.   

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted. 

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings. 

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story. 

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck. 

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch. 

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over. 

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back. 

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.” 

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.” 

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree. 

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he? 

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.” 

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?” 

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.” 

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft. 

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.” 

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“You love me.” 

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.” 

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air. 

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you. 

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes. 

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.” 

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself. 

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.” 

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.” 

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words. 

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3,  just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage. 

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that? 

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.” 

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core. 

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.” 

This was it. 

It was happening. 

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.” 

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it. 

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt. 

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.” 

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?” 

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you. 

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that. 

You became a little paranoid. 

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him. 

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business. 

And you were somehow right. 

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived. 

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.” 

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed. 

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?” 

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?” 

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.” 

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.” 

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?” 

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.” 

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.” 

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that. 

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.” 

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!” 

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest. 

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along. 

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.” 

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!” 

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point. 

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.” 

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation. 

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.” 

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride. 

You were just scared of losing him over something like this. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips. 

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile. 

“I love you, too.” 

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along. 

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs. 

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all. 

The mere thought of it scared you. 

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him. 

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 basks in the fact that you're ofically his. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 x Reader (gender isn't impiled/mentioned/specified) Tw. buying reader, kidnapping, general lack of consent, possessive/obsessive behavior, power imbalance, blackmailing, threatening; A/N: Quick reminder. I do not support this kind of behaviour. This is just a piece of fiction and serves as enetrtaimnet purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 who had bought you.

Earlier that week, unknowingly to you, he visited a small apartment you and your family were occupying. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 was aware where and how you were living but it still mortified him how you – his precious darling – could be living like that. 

“You deserve better…more…” he repeated in his head every time he thought about you. Which was always. So it didn't come as a surprise to anyone he had decided to do something about it sooner than later.

Yes, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 greatly appreciated being so warmly welcomed by (his soon to be in-laws) your family. He even witnessed himself from where you got some of your traits from but business needed to be made.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 was straight forward from the start.

The deal was simple: he will pay your family a handsome sum of money monthly and you'll belong to him wholly. They'll completely disappear from your life, becoming nothing but a shadow of your past. In his head he knows you won’t need them anymore.

If not, their financial situation which was already bad will be even worse. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 is a man of power and has a lot of money. Your parents, knowing this, quickly understood that it's either willingly giving you away and getting the money or he will forcefully do so with them landing on a street, probably dead.

From the beginning, they had no choice.

"And here you are, my precious." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 whispered lovingly into your ear before gently laying you on the king size bed. You were put in a deep sleep by an alcohol you drank during his luxurious party (he threw to celebrate sealing the deal but shhh...) and strong sleeping pills he had added to one of your drinks. He made a mental note to pay the doctor he got them from an extra since you didn't even twitch the whole way you were carried here.

"I hope the bedroom will be to your liking." Your (captor) future husband carefully took off your shoes and laid them by your new bed. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 wanted you to be as comfortable as one person can be. Then he took the neatly folded blanket made from the highest quality silk and processed to snuggly tuck you in. When he finished, you looked like the bed could swallow you at any given moment.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 couldn’t help himself and brought his hand to your head, caressing it while staring at your face in adoration. "If not I'll change it however you like it."

Secretly, he hoped you'll be sharing a bedroom (especially bed) soon.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 sat down by your side, the softest mattress he could find easily dipping under him. He didn’t care that he was wrinkling his expensive party wear consisting of a black tuxedo imported straight from Italy that accentuated his lean body in every positive way. He was looking his absolutely best. For you.

"Oh how I love you, my precious." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 purred and his fingers ghosted over your cheek. He leaned down close enough to your face that your soft breaths were fanning him. Some of his slicked back hair fell down tickling your forehead. His mesmerizing eyes were gleaming with the passionate and deep rooted love he had for you. "You belong to me."

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟎'𝐬! 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐧 sealed your fate with a peck on your lips.

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