#farewell fellow friends

[theonewithallthefixations]

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS

My wonderful most amazing awesome friend @my-name-is-mine-to-know is doing Febuwhump. And she’s so cool and one of the BEST authors I know so I think you should go read her stuff.

Go admire her museum, which will soon be covered from floor to ceiling in tapestries beautifully woven with words. I haven’t met a better writer in all of my existence, and I don’t think I ever will.

#READ MY FRIEND’S STUFF ‘CAUSE SHE’S SO FREAKING COOL AND I LOVE HER #The way she is able to write emotion? *chef’s kiss* #It’s absolutely insane #I swear she’s the best person I know #Febuwhump 2024 #Farewell fellow Linked Universe readers!

[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.”

#ONE CABIN 🏚️ #ONE BAND #ONE DREAM #ONE DIRECTION #IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

[heliads]

I love you writing and I was hoping you could write Ben Florian x VK!Reader the reader is Lefou's kid. A soulmate AU where the negative things you think about yourself are marked on your soulmate's skin. Reader only has one or two things because Ben is from Auradon and has a good life and family. While Ben has around half a dozen. Reader is the one who gives Ben the love potion. During the lake scene they notice Ben is their soulmate and tries (but fails) to hide it thinking he deserves better

masterlist

There really is no good place for a prince. They are political figureheads in every sense of the phrase— too young to actually rule, too old to be allowed to skip state functions. They sit in corners of expensive meetings and cut ribbons in front of newly opened buildings, but they can’t do a whole lot except smile and pose. 

Shame your friend seems so fixated on capturing one, then. It feels like you’ve just barely left the Isle of the Lost, only bid farewell to the entirety of your prior life experience hours ago, and yet already Mal is scheming about how to best tear down everything around you. If Prince Ben is the best way to fulfill her nefarious plans, then so be it.

The only problem is that you’re now involved in all of this, too. Mal wants a wand and so she’ll take a prince to get there, but as one of her best friends, you’ve been drafted into the plot to catch a prince. Ben won’t have any idea what’s coming. Shame, he would probably run if he had any clue.

Mal’s good at covering her tracks, though, she always has been. You can remember elaborate plans from when you were much younger to steal cookies or cloaks, spellbooks and shoes. At this point, hearing Mal tell you that she’s going to bewitch the crown prince of Auradon into falling in love with her shouldn’t surprise you, just the fact that she’s taken this long to come up with the idea.

Usually, you have no problem going along with Mal’s little adventures. They’re entertaining, at the least, a good way to pass a few days when you’ve already gone over every alleyway and hiding place on the Isle at least a dozen times in the last month. The issue is that you’re not on the Isle anymore, and maybe– just maybe– disrupting everything here isn’t entirely what you want to do.

Mal doesn’t know this, of course. None of your fellow VKs do. Every time they monologue and moan about how they can’t wait to get out of this place, you find yourself holding your tongue, biting back your real thoughts about how the school isn’t actually as bad as you feared. Sure, the constant judgment from the other children of princes and princesses isn’t all that fun, but Auradon Prep has its positives, too. For one thing, you think your soulmate might be here.

What a terrible thing for the child of a villain to prioritize. You’ve heard Mal scoff at the idea of a soulmate, and although Evie is certainly more interested in the idea than some of your other friends, you’re still not sure that you’d find a welcome audience amongst their ranks when it comes to tracking down your soulmate. After all, the odds of that soulmate being from Auradon and not the Isle are pretty high. They’ve all but told you that themselves.

All things considered, for a society with such control over magic and spells, it’s pretty difficult to find your soulmate. You’d always wondered why those in charge couldn’t shorten the whole affair to something more simple– a name on the wrist, perhaps, or an invisible string that only the two of you could see– but instead, soulmate magic went the complicated route. How lovely.

The story about the origin of the soulmate magic is convoluted and ancient, going back generations and changing with each family. The general consensus is that soulmates were created to preserve the sanctity of true love, with the idea that soulmates should be able to love each other entirely, flaws and all. So, when you think something negative about yourself, those very same thoughts will show up on the skin of your soulmate, something like a warning label for what they’re going to get themselves into.

This is all well and good for people with few negative thoughts, maybe they’ll have something here and there about a bad sports result or a poor test grade that their soulmate can chuckle over before meeting them. For you, though? You, the child of a villain, cursed to live forever on a too-small island with the other convicts and criminals, you have had more fears and hated things about yourself than most. Your soulmate must be covered in unhappy musings, which only makes you feel worse about yourself than before. A self-perpetuating cycle of the worst kind.

By contrast, the startling absence of your soulmate’s negative thoughts on your own skin makes you certain that they couldn’t be from the Isle of the Lost. There are only one or two fears on your skin, proof of loving parents and a stable home, and they’re minor things like a bad hair day or a fear of not doing their absolute best. These change, often leaving every few months to be replaced by something else insignificant.

What makes you most certain that your soulmate is the child of a royal is the one negative thought that has stayed on your skin since the very beginning. Your soulmate, whoever they are, is terrified that they will let down the king and queen. Only someone with close ties to the royalty could have such a fear, so it’s proof that your soulmate is somewhere here on Auradon.

So maybe you don’t want to leave this place, not yet. Not until you can learn who your soulmate is. It’ll be almost impossible to track them down on this information alone, but supposedly that’s how the whole thing is supposed to work. You learn about the worst parts of your soulmate, and then you get to love the best of them. The only problem is that you’re fairly sure that if your soulmate is a royal, they won’t want to love you at all.

It’s easier to ignore the whole affair. Easier to agree to Mal’s plan when she proposes enchanting Prince Ben. At least another one of your friend’s schemes will keep your mind off the soulmate affair.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, but your conscience is starting to get steadily more vocal as the days go by. Ben is a nice guy, which hurts, surprisingly. Although the love spell may have been cast on Mal, as one of Mal’s closest friends, you’re around the two of them all the time. The boy you see is someone that you wish could be your soulmate. He may be a prince, and you may be a villain, but he makes you want to believe in love after all.

You certainly have the capacity for such musings. For some reason, the love spell didn’t take all that well, and although Ben is now compelled to stay with Mal more than he was before, it’s not like he’s totally obsessed with her as Mal had hoped. Mal claims it’s because love spells can never work fully due to the soulmate issue, like having a soulmate is a kind of shield to protect you against that sort of enchantment, but regardless, Ben has just enough independent thought that he can tell you jokes and try to make you smile like– well, like he tries to do with Mal.

The realization that Ben is a genuinely good person, and worse, someone you don’t want to trick, haunts you as you fall further into Mal’s scheme. You’ve been trying to push the whole thing from your mind, letting Ben join your soulmate in the depths of your mind you don’t want to touch, but your train of thought keeps circling back to him despite your best attempts otherwise.

Besides, it doesn’t help that Mal keeps trying to involve you in the plot. Right now, the two of them are at the Enchanted Lake, out on a cute little date. Mal had been making mock disgusted faces at you the whole time she was getting ready, but some part of yourself can’t stop whispering that this doesn’t seem so bad, actually, that the thought of being out here alone with Ben would make for a wonderful day instead of the tedious chore Mal is making it out to be.

Ben doesn’t know you’re here, though. Mal wanted backup in case something happened, so you’re lingering in the woods to keep anyone from stumbling upon the scene and also holding onto more magical baked goods in case Mal feels the need to renew the spell. It’s kind of like torture, strolling through this beautiful forest, knowing that Ben is so close and you are helping hold him under the thrall of this plot.

The storm in your mind must be thundering too loudly for you to think straight, because you lose track of yourself and accidentally walk too close to the lake. You weren’t supposed to be spotted, but before you can back away and melt back into the foliage, Ben looks up and sees you. You panic, immediately heading the way you’d come, but you hear footsteps after you moments later and Ben manages to track you down before you can go too far. Mal is so going to kill you for messing with her plan.

“Sorry,” you murmur, eyes wide when he finally catches up to you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were– I’ll go now.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. It’s not like we have a monopoly on the woods.”

He’s dripping water, most likely due to a recent dip in the lake, and you can’t seem to stop your gaze from following the path of the droplets as they cascade down his shoulders, across his hands, and, most importantly of all, over the swooping letters of the fears of his soulmates. 

Usually, Ben wears long sleeves or something else to hide them. You can see why now– there are many of them, many more than you, perhaps half a dozen in all. You can’t read all of them from where you’re standing, just snippets about how a villain’s kid shouldn’t have a soulmate, how they’ll never amount to much, things like that. Things like what you’ve been thinking recently.

Ben must catch on to your train of thought, because he smiles weakly, absentmindedly scratching at a sentence proclaiming that his soulmate isn’t worth the good luck they get. “Yeah, my soulmate’s a little stressed, I guess. Hopefully, I can talk about that with them soon. I want them to know that they’re worth it, wherever they are.”

It had never occurred to you that hating yourself would make your soulmate this obsessed. You have no proof that Ben is your soulmate but– 

But, as you watch, you can see a new fear appearing out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Ben’s left wrist. I’m not good enough for a soulmate this good. Just what you were thinking mere moments ago. It’s like proof.

Ben looks up slowly, and although you were never blessed with the ability to read minds, you swear you can tell exactly what he’s thinking right now. “Are you–” he starts, ends, tries again, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

You can do several things at this moment. You can confirm what you’re mostly sure is true, you can lie, you can pretend you hadn’t heard him. You spot movement in the trees behind him, a flash of purple, and remember belatedly that Mal is still somewhere at the Enchanted Lake, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering why you’re holding him here for so long.

All of a sudden, the reality of the situation comes crashing down around your shoulders. This is not something that can happen. Ben is a prince. You are the child of a villain, and the friend of another VK who’s counting on you to continue fooling Ben so she can pursue her latest mad plan. There is no world in which this works out.

So, you force a smile, banishing all thoughts back into the deep recesses of your brain once more. “No,” you say, “I don’t know. I think they’re a VK, though.”

Ben’s face falls in a flash. “Really? Because I thought–”

You shake your head quickly. “I don’t– it’s not me. I think Mal is waiting for you, though. You shouldn’t keep her for long.”

Ben glances back over his shoulder in memory of the girl he’s left somewhere in the woods behind him, and when he looks back, you’re gone. You’re good at running. It’s a skill you’ve perfected over the years. You just never thought you’d have to use it now.

Prince Ben is your soulmate. Impossible. True. Mal comes back later that afternoon, tells you the date went splendidly despite your accidental intrusion. Ben must not have let the brief moment in the woods faze him for long. It hurts more than you care to admit.

There is only so much running a VK can do, try as they might to pretend otherwise. You avoid Ben at all costs, hoping that whatever foolish war is currently being fought inside your heart will come to a tolerable ceasefire if you just ignore it long enough. Mal tells you that the plan is going swimmingly, she’s never seen the prince more excited about the VKs and the upcoming coronation. You nod and smile and tell her that you’re glad everything is going to plan, but inside, you cannot seem to stop your mind from screaming. 

And then, all of a sudden, despite your best attempts to remain out of sight, Prince Ben finds you. It’s completely out of the blue, so casual that you almost don’t realize it’s happening until he’s sitting down at your table in the library and it’s too late to run. 

You feel like an animal caught in a trap. He’s just smiling like nothing is the matter. “I know it’s you,” he says by way of hello. 

Your heart is stuck in your throat. “What?”

“I know it’s you,” Ben repeats, “I know you’re my soulmate. I had the Fairy Godmother do a little spell so I could check for you, but I think I knew since that day at the lake.”

You frown. “You can do that?”

He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “Not everyone can, I think. But I, uh, insisted.”

You grin. “Prince privileges?”

“Something like that.” He’s smiling, though, maybe pleased that you’re not trying to run off this time. “But you knew even without the spell, didn’t you?”

That does shake your uncertain sense of calm. “Yes,” you admit, “but I didn’t think you— I didn’t think it would work out.”

The look on Ben’s face is genuinely heartbreaking. “What, just because I’m a prince?”

He says it so casually, it’s almost funny. “Yes, Ben, because you’re a prince and I’m a VK. I mean, my dad was Lefou. He literally tried to ruin the happy ever after of your parents, why would you want someone like me to be your soulmate?”

“Same reason you shouldn’t be afraid to want me. You’re not your father, Y/N, and I’m not my parents. We’re just us, and I know that I want you to be my soulmate. I have since the start. I was hoping you would tell me you knew, but after a few days went by and you still said nothing, I figured I had to take matters into my own hands. Even if that meant using a spell or two.”

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and tell you it’s ridiculous to think that he would ever want a VK as a soulmate, but he doesn’t. In fact, you don’t think he ever will. As impossible as it seems, Ben wants someone who isn’t from a perfect fairy tale. He wants you. And that, lovely and wonderful and absolutely crazy, sounds like a fairly good happily ever after for you. 

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed

#ben florian #ben florian imagines #ben florian x reader #ben florian oneshot #descendants #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #descendants oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #descendants ben #descendants ben imagines #descendants ben x reader #descendants ben oneshot

[seph-ic]

WOAH wait I just realized that the reason he did this was because kissing people on the cheek is a common greeting/farewell in Italy particularly between close friends and family. (My partner is Italian and they pointed this out to me)

Absolutely enthralled with the idea of Nico doing the double cheek kiss for anyone he’s close with. Like it becomes a right of passage, if Nico kisses you on the cheek you’re IN. People who have received it so far: Hazel, Reyna, Jason, Will (he’s super hesitant about this one because internalized homophobia is a bitch), Hestia, Chiara (fellow Italian) and Kayla and Austin.

He also does it to Cerberus when he sees him.

#percy jackson #pjo #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #solangelo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #the sun and the star #nico pjo

[bones4thecats]

MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek

Type of Writing: Request (Added Part) Characters: Sebek Zigvolt Name: MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: Part One Tagged Requester: @twistedcece and @blues824

A/N: This part two to the original request made by the second tagged person above. This features a hint at the original piece, so I recommend, before you read this, go check out the first part that I linked above! Anyways, enjoy!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

⚡ When you walked through that mirror all those years ago, Sebek went through so many emotions, emotions that he never thought he'd ever go through

⚡ Lilia eventually retired from being a member of the Briar Valley army and watched as Malleus was crowned King of Briar Valley and he applauded as Silver and Sebek graduated and became the personal guards of their new King

⚡ Even though he knew his grandfather, the person he looked up to the most, was happy for him, Sebek couldn't help but feel a large pang in his chest

⚡ You weren't there to celebrate with him...

⚡ Sweet Seven, why was he still thinking about you? It's been over three years, why were you the only thing that was on his mind during his rare breaks?

⚡ Sebek was walking alongside Silver as they stood right behind Malleus, as he was on his way to sit on his throne and discuss matters of borders with the new established leaders of the Queendom of Roses and the Shaftlands

⚡ Silver noticed his friend and co-workers un-easy behavior, and he gave him a light pat on the back

⚡ Even Malleus was kinda off that day for some mysterious reason

⚡ That morning, he had mentioned to Lilia and the two other knights that he felt a spurge of magical energy racing around the atmosphere for some reason, one that he couldn't answer

⚡ It was enough of a warning that prompted the guards to double on staff, leaving Silver and Sebek far more tired and busy than usual, but, they signed up for this

⚡ When the meeting finally ended, Malleus bid farewell to his fellow rulers as Silver and Sebek returned to their posts beside his throne

⚡ Malleus sat down and began to read a book that you had gifted him years ago, and he froze when the sound of a magical burst entered the room, prompting Sebek and Silver to hold their swords up, facing the portal with murderous glints in their eyes

" Child of man? " " Hey, you guys... long time no see, huh? "

⚡ Sebek froze in place as you stepped out, the portal closing behind you as Malleus hugged you, Lilia laughing as Silver smiled, patting your head in a welcome

⚡ You looked around and saw the familiar hair-cut of your long-time love, and when your eyes met across the room, Sebek began to tear up

⚡ You were here... standing right in front of him... now was his chance!

⚡ Walking up to your old friend, you smiled and rubbed your neck as tears threaten to spill from his eyes

" Hey Sebek... how have you be- "

⚡ Cutting you off mid-sentence, Sebek grabbed you by the waist and laid his lips against your's roughly, prompting Malleus to chuckle as the father-son duo took photos of the cute event

⚡ Allowing you both to take a breath, Sebek pulled away from your lips to lay his forehead against yours, his chartreuse eyes staring into yours

" I love you... I always have, Y/N. So please, please don't leave me again... "

⚡ Chuckling as you laid his head in your hands, you pressed a small peck to the half-fae's nose, your answer made every hateful thought of himself go flying out the window

" I will never, ever, leave you alone again, my dear. I love you, Sebek Zigvolt. " " And I you, my one and only. "

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Diasomnia #Night Raven College #NRC #Twst x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Diasomnia x Reader #Night Raven College x Reader #NRC x Reader #F! Reader #GN! Reader #MC! Reader #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

[nicohischierz]

fast cars: oscar piastri

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

jack, trevor and cole navigated their way through the paddock in montreal once again. however this time, you were joining them for the weekend.

"wait we're only allowed inside one garage this weekend?" trevor asked as you walked past the motorhomes.

you led the crew towards the mclaren motorhome as the three boys took in their surroundings. this was not what they experienced last time they were here.

this all happened when your teammate mentioned being at the race with his friends, you mentioned also going and managed to pull some strings into getting passes.

"trev, we're lucky we're allowed inside a garage," cole muttered.

you halted before the garage and turned to all three guys. "rules for the weekend. no switching teams, if you don't want to wear papaya then wear a different colour. be respectful to the drivers and their cars, think of them as if someone's trying to touch your sticks before a game".

the boys thought you were done and were about to enter the garage when you stopped them one last time. "and finally, have fun this weekend," you concluded.

the three hockey players gave each other confused looks before following after you.

one of the mechanics noticed you first and waved before gesturing to where your boyfriend was. you smiled, thanked them and headed off in the direction they pointed at.

jack, trevor and cole waited at the back as they saw you approach lando and oscar. the first three were confused as to how settled you felt in the environment.

"do you think she works here over the summers?" trevor asked. jack side-eyed his best friend before rolling his eyes. "that wouldn't make sense z cause then how does she train," he answered, playing along.

trevor nodded in understanding before watching as lando came over to give you a hug. "I bet she's dating that one," jack pointed to the standing brit.

cole and trevor scoffed. "what makes you think that?" cole asked.

"how else would she get these amazing tickets," jack pointed out in a duh tone.

the three boys argued over who you could be dating as you caught up with lando. they shut up quickly when they noticed you walking over to them.

"jack, trevor and cole, this is lando norris. lando this is my teammate jack and his friends trevor and cole," you introduced them.

the boys shook hands with each other and started with a small conversation when a pair of hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you up.

you shrieked before turning around to hug your boyfriend. oscar wasted no time in placing his lips on yours in a soft kiss before resting his forehead on yours.

"i have missed you so much," he muttered.

you nodded "i missed you to osc,"

the two of you were made aware of your fellow companions when lando began clearing his throat. "I definitely did not miss that," he grumbled.

you stuck your tongue at him and turned to your other friends. "oscar this is my teammate jack and his friends cole and trevor. guys, this is my boyfriend oscar,"

“does that mean all your trips to europe have been for him?” jack asked.

you nodded and leaned into your boyfriend. “oscar and i barely get to see each other with our conflicting schedules so when he’s on break he’s been down to see our game and when i’m off i go see his races,” you explained.

jack nodded and then gasped. “is that why you didn’t want to host thanksgiving! it wasn’t cause you were sick it’s cause you were holed with your boyfriend!” he exclaimed.

you blushed and nodded as oscar kissed your head.

“i’ve got to go love but i’ll see you and the guys for dinner with logan and lando,” oscar bid farewell.

“i cant believe you’re dating a racing driver,” trevor mumbled. you smiled at the boy, turning to watch as oscar drove onto the track.

#oscar piastri imagine #f1 imagine #nhl imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #nicohischierz writes

[bound-tosydney]

We are here today to say that a fellow student a family and friend has passed away body was found in the prayer room we appreciate Sydney for finding the body we have no idea what happened as the suspect is still out there but either way if anyone would like to come and say their goodbyes and pray for Ena’s life please do come up here and say your final farewell thank you…

NO ANON DONT LET ME THINK OF SYDNEY DISMISURE EVENT

But that yummy

So, what do you want now, anon? Sending him to the asylum? Making him to be sentenced to life imprisonment?😬😬😬 whatever, I'm sure Sydney would into self harm after that🥺

#ask box #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #dol fanart #degrees of lewdity #sirris the science teacher #prayer room violence

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 2 thoughts~

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 7, PART 2 OF THE MAIN STORY AND DORM UNIFORM LILIA’S VIGNETTES.***

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

As expected, Malleus did get invited to the party (he was the first person Lilia thought of).

GAO-GAO DRAGON-KUN OMG Malleus’s silly virtual pet actually ties into the themes and concerns of this episode!! Every 30 days, Gao-Gao “leaves” (I think it dies, Tamagotchis have short life spans. Either that, or it actually moves away) and you have to start over with a new egg. (Malleus cried the first time it happened and ran to sob to Lilia about it.) It reminds him of the brevity of human lives compared to his own…

Lilia drops a bunch of depressing lines about how it’s because something comes to an end that you have to cherish the time you spent with it… that it’s hard to say goodbye the more time you spend with something, etc.

More Silver lore too?? Malleus got Gao-Gao Dragon-kun around this time; Silver was found in a forest, etc.

DORM UNIFORM LILIA SPOILERS BTW (and more Silver lore): BRO HOW IS LILIA’S SPECIAL TALENT “BABYSITTING”, IT SOUNDS LIKE HE RAISED SILVER KIND OF. UH. ROUGHLY???? And once Lilia left baby Silver in his cradle… outside, unattended… WHEN SILVER WENT MISSING LILIA’S JUST LIKE, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come back eventually!!” The Zigvolts had to intervene and teach (well, scold) Lilia that babies don’t come back on their own???????????? Since then, the Zigvolts insisted on having Silver over whenever Lilia is away for extended periods of time.

Lilia’s farewell party… I’m surprised that everyone showed up as intended, even people that aren’t close with Lilia or Diasomnia (lookin’ at you, Leona-san), but it’s nice that everyone is coming together for this moment 😭

AHHHHHH TREY TALKS ABOUT LILIA BEING HIS CLASSMATE AND FELLOW VICE and indirectly dunks on his ability to follow a recipe.

Cater takes one last selfie with Lilia and even talks about how lonely it will be… OH GOD, COME TO THINK OF IT this would hurt Cater a lot, seeing as he has had to move away from a lot of his own friends in childhood, and now a friend and club mate of his is doing the same…

RIDDLE SHUT UP DON’T BRING UP EPISODE 2, WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THAT. (… Real talk though, it’s sweet that Riddle’s showing Lilia so much respect, he’s observant of Silver and Sebek as their Equestrian Club senpai too (commenting on how he notices that Silver and Sebek speak highly of Lilia). It feels like Lilia is leaving his children in Riddle’s care adhabsodbasasdfewpqf)

Mmm, it sounds like Leona came for social grace reasons (comes with a heavy side of sarcasm).

DNLFDSOIYFWF BAHAHAHAHA OF COURSE RUGGIE CAME FOR THE FREE EATS

WHJ AT THE FUCKING ADSKJ ADFLH ISDBILADFBIUOLADFLI FUFKCCVKKFKKKKKKL???????? LEONA SUDDENLY STARTS SPEAKING REALLY. ELOQUENTLY?????????????????????

Leona wants to peace out now (before Malleus shows up), but Ruggie fights him because he wants to eat more of the fuggin’ food asdlihbasbiydasbibfasdbiaqwh MOOD RUGGIE 

Haha, Leona’s kind of coerced (?) into staying.

SEBEK IS HOLDING HIMSELF BACK FROM PICKING A FIGHT WITH LEONA FOR TALKING RUDELY TO/ABOUT LILIA

Malleus is nowhere to be seen. Silver goes to look around the party for him. Sebek wants to go too, but his stomach growls and he is excused to go eat.

AYYYY The Mostro Lounge is catering the party. Making their coin honestly for once! They even gave some free seafood fishes and desserts, how kind of Azul…

GOD THEY’RE BRINGING UP EPISODE 2 SO MUCH, I realize now that that’s when a lot of the characters got caught up with Diasomnia??

AHHH THE STAFF ARE AT THE PARTY TOO, I SEE SAM AND TREIN 

OH MY GOD, IS JADE REALLY FISHING LILIA FOR INFO ON MALLEUS AT HIS GOING AWAY PARTY. THIS MAN NEVER STOPS

Kind of ominous, but Lilia mentions (in response to Floyd) that he doesn’t want people (Diasomnia) to see “this side” of him. His weakness??? I’m guessing???? He doesn’t want Silver, Sebek, and Malleus to see him on his death bed???????

Not gonna lie, I fully expected Kalim to be BAWLING about Lilia going. I’m glad that he was able to be emotionally mature and hold back his sadness to see Lilia away with a smile.

Silver comes back to Lilia to report that Malleus is nowhere at the party. He then runs off to search for him. (Lilia was about to say his farewells without Malleus, but Silver raises his voice at Lilia and says that’s NOT okay to do.)

adhbVOSYDvdiabid SEBEK COMES OVER WITH HIS MOUTH CRAMMED FULL OF FOOD HE SOUNDS SO CUTE

Lilia’s age is confirmed to be roughly 700 years old. biuabo8ysdyasbiiafb SEBEK TELLS VIL AND ROOK TO STFU WHEN THEY REACT WITH SHOCK TO LILIA’S TRUE AGE.

OH????? ZIGVOLT GRANDPA NAME DROP, IT’S “BAAL”???????? Not sure if that’s how you spell it, but it is pronounced like “Baul”.

Malleus is confirmed to have ancestors that were actual dragons. It seems that dragon fae are indeed a cross between dragons and fairies.

For dragon fae, 200 years is considered still a baby/child, 500 is still young, and 1000 is an adult.

Lilia says that his own species can live up to 1000 years, but that due to his own recklessness his age is starting to catch up to him sooner than anticipated. Sooo… 1000 years is the maximum lifespan for Lilia’s species (~80ish years old average for humans), but Malleus’s species appears to live longer (since 1000 seems to be like a dragon fae’s 18-year old equivalent).

At this point, I realize all the first years are not included in the dorm meetings with Lilia. Pretty sure they will get their own segment later (from future Raven: yes, they do).

DFNADLIBYABILFIAAFB CUT TO IDIA’S ROOM, ORTHO’S TRYING TO WAKE HIM UP FOR LILIA’S PARTY

Idia’s crying about his long-time friend Crimson Muscle quitting gaming and totally going offline (wiped his Magicam account). This is killing Idia emotionally and he cannot bring himself to go to attend the party. IDIA’S FINALLY REALIZING THE magic VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP… 

Ortho offers to find Crimson Muscle’s real identity out using his Robot Hacks??? But Idia cancels the idea because he thinks it would kill the magic to know about his friend’s irl self it’s creepy.

Idia tells Ortho to go to the celebration without him. OH MAN, THIS IS THE LOOPHOLE TO KEEP IDIA FROM GETTING CAUGHT UP IN THE (anticipated) SLEEPING SPELL MALLEUS WILL CAST.

Cut to a snow-covered Main Street, Silver has finally located Malleus.

NAUUUUR Silver is outright sobbing in front of Malleus 😭 He’s so sad about Lilia leaving, he had always intended to be by his side until the end. Lilia has still done so much for him… Lilia raised him as a single parent and Silver feels like he disappointed his dad for not fulfilling his wish (to send him off with a smile) before he left, and Silver will never have the strength nor the time to truly be worthy of Lilia in his “final moments in a foreign country” (IS THAT IMPLYING LILIA IS HEADED OFF SOMEWHERE SO NO ONE HAS TO WATCH HIM SLOWLY WITHER AWAY AND DIE… .… ….. .. …. … …. . )

B r u h Malleus just listens to Silver and says some uh… cryptic sad stuff. “Grandmother always told me that the Draconia line was blessed with great power to protect the smiles of everyone under our rule” but now Malleus is sad because even with all that power, he cannot protect what he loves most.

I think. Silver crying about his mortality and not being able to be with Lilia until the very end triggered something in Malleus.

OH NO YABAI YABAIIIIII MALLEUS THINKS ABOUT HOW HE SHOULD DO ANYTHING IN HIS POWER TO PREVENT HIS LOVED ONES FROM GOING AWAY… He then crazy laughs and poofs himself and Silver off, which is followed by a ton more blot pooling. NOT A GOOD SIGN AT ALL.

Cut back to the party on that ominous note 🙂

ORTHO IS FINALLY AT THE PARTY, EVERYONE POP THE BOTTLES

I’m so glad Grim is fucking eating well, he deserves it!!!

OH MAN ORTHO CAME SO CLOSE TO FIGURING OUT LILIA IS CRIMSON MUSCLE……… ….… .… . .. .

IHDBAYOBFOY8QEFQB LILIA IS SUPER INTO HIS BERRY JUICE????? It’s like his alcohol, I swear…

Yup, I was right adhabildsbasda Lilia’s hanging out with the first years, thanking Jack for episode 2, talking about VDC with Epel, etc. His dad energy is really coming out strong, he imparts wise words to Jack and Epel.

Okay, so it looks like the Land of Crimson Long doesn’t…???? Have???? Internet?????? HUH???? So no gaming for Lilia… RIP IDIA HIS GAMING BUDDY REALLY IS GOING BYEBYE FOREVER

Aw, Lilia thanks Yuu for being Malleus’s friend and says that he hopes they will continue being that for him, as Malleus still has a lot to learn.

Oh no 🤡 Yuu’s dreams are now prominently seeping into their consciousness too; they got a vision of Maleficent right after Lilia talked to them. Yuu gets briefly disoriented, which concerns Adeuce and make the group think about leaving the party early since they already greeted the host.

Lilia offers a comment that makes me rethink the “Silver and Yuu are somehow tied” theories 🤔 Basically, Lilia thought Yuu was falling asleep standing up like Silver??? Which. Could just be a one-off comment, but what if it means something more…? Does Silver actually also have those prophetic Disney movie dreams????? 👁️

NAUR THEY MENTIONED EPISODE 2 AGAIN MY BELOATHED A DHOBYISDBdpgeophfasp Adeuce remember Lilia helping them during the stampede incident!! They’re sad because they never had a chance to repay him, and now Lilia is up and leaving… but Lilia says it’s okay, they can repay him by helping out Sebek (who is still struggling to get along with others due to his attitude).

LMAO Ace is all like, “no one at this school is the type to kindly offer their hand to help”, and barely anyone will accept that help either. Methinks this smells like setting up some foreshadowing for when the tables get turned when the conflict gets resolved.

ADFHBFADIYLFAIQFEILADFAD THERE’S AN AWKWARD ASS SCENE WHERE SEBEK IS FORCED TO FACE THE OTHER FIRST YEARS (Ortho included, yay!!) AND TRYING TO… JUST BE CIVIL…………… … . .… . ….… . . (spoiler: Sebek fails, he calls them all shallow–)

The first years are interrupted by Crowley announcing that it’s time for Lilia to go now. Wait, so soon?????? It felt like the party only just got started… SILVER AND MALLEUS AREN’T EVEN BACK YET????????

Of course, Sebek tries to stop Lilia from departing before Malleus and Silver come back.

Lilia gives a big speech to everyone about his time at NRC, asking Sebek to communicate this same message to the other two later. Lilia first got invited to NRC 500 years ago but had no interest in enrolling until Malleus was later invited as well. Aw… Lilia says he’s grateful he was able to spend three years with everyone 🥺

Right as Lilia finishes?????? Who should arrive but Malleus and Silver in a burst of green flames!! (From the sound effects, it sounds like there was also a strong wind blowing.) Their eyes are red, and they’re covered in snow. Lilia wonders if Silver has been crying (yes, he has).

OH MY GOD MALLEUS SAID THE THING, HE SAID IT. It’s basically his equivalent to Maleficent’s “Well, quite a glittering assemblage. Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and … how quaint. Even the rabble,” line.

Malleus apologizes for his tardiness; he says he was mulling over what gift to bring (even though the invitations Lilia sent out said “no gift required”). HIS WORDING IS SO FUCKING SUS, HE’S LIKE, “I wasn’t sure what gift to give to you (Lilia)”, then changes it and says “to you all/everyone”. Finally, he settled on bestowing a blessing on them for this special occasion.

IT’S HAPPENING IT’S HAPPENING OH NO 🤡 Malleus tells everyone in attendance that there’s no need for them to feel sad or worry about anyone leaving anymore… It’s no longer a celebration of farewell, but the celebration of a new beginning, for he will send them into a world where no one will lose anything–not friends, nor family.

ORTHO BABY MY BELOVED 😭 He senses a really fast blot accumulation and warns the guests to evacuate!!

There’s a battle here (Crowley allows it) and if you thought the episode 6 battles were bad, YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHING YET. Malleus has like 300,000 health and regens a ridiculous amount of health. I think it’s a scripted loss???

Ooooh, I think Lilia’s deteriorating magic is legit?? He tries to stop Malleus but can’t because his magic isn’t manifesting. (I can’t think of a reason why he would restrain himself from spellcasting when the family he loves is in very real danger and lashing out at his school companions.) NO MALLEUS DOnmT CALL LilLIA PITIFUL ShUT UP

SHIT’S HITTING THE FAN, MALLEUS IS LOSING IT, HE’S SHOUTING AT EVERYONE, DIASOMNIA IS SHOUTING BACK (Silver and Sebek are just. GOD. Silver tells Lilia to get away, he realizes that Malleus is not being himself… Sebek’s trying to calm Malleus down but of course it isn’t doing ANYTHING.)

“IM DOING THIS SO I WON’T LOSE YOU!!!” – Malleus to Lilia

NOOOOO

NOOOOOOOO OO O O O O OOOOOO OO O O O O O OO OOO

Malleus unique magic reveal!!! “Fae of Maleficence” (in Kanji, it is written as “The Blessing”). We get the chant too!! “Spin the thread of disaster on the spinning wheel of Fate. For I, the King (/Ruler) of the Abyss, shall bestow it upon you.” EPISODE TITLE DROP??????

Thorns engulf the whole island and send everyone into slumber… Students, staff, Grim, Ortho (the robot), and it seems even Yuu. RSA is most likely fucked too 😔

I think Idia is probably spared since he’s still in Ignihyde, which is considered a pocket dimension of its own outside of the island??? (Malleus’s magic probably loses range after the pocket dimension of Diasomnia and Sage’s Island?) So it really IS up to him to be the hero…

IMAGINE IDIA STEPPING OUT OF HIS ROOM AND HE SEES ALL OF THIS. THIS IS EXACTLY WHY HE BARELY LEAVES, THERE’S ALMOST ALWAYS SOME CATASTROPHIC WORLD-ENDING SHIT GOING ON WHEN HE DOES.

OH SHIT MALLEUS OVERBLOT ALREADY?!?!?!?!?!??!??!?!?!!! IT’S ONLY LIKE PART 37, MY DUDE

afhalidbasbda WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A SEASICK VAMPIRE WITH THE SLICKED BACK HAIR AND CAPE AND WEIRD TINTED SKIN (Yes, I know it’s meant to look like Maleficent’s skin color but it still looks weird to me 💦)

“All of you will become heroes in a fairy tale” HUH, KINDA SUS THERE, MALLEUS. (It’s probably just referring to Malleus seeing them dreaming as putting them in a better place than in reality???) This makes me think of the line he says in early marketing/promo of the game… “Come, let me show you to the true happy end” or something.

QEFIYQGUP9F9AFPBAOF;OA IGEBAD MALLEUS STOP HUMMING “ONCE UPON A DREAM”, TRHIS ISN’T A HAPPY OR NOSTALGIC MOMENT THIS IS ACTUAL HELL

HFIYBFFIF;OAF;  THAT’S WAS AN ABRUPT ENDING, IT JUST CUT BACK TO THE OPENING SCREEN WITH THE TWISTED WONDERLAND LOGO

Um. Well. That was… wild 🥲 I feel like not a lot actually happened, and yet EVERYTHING happened at the same time…?? I definitely was NOT expecting Malleus’s Overblot to come this soon, but I did expect the sleeping spell (curse?) to be cast since the party setup was very similar to the one in Sleeping Beauty. I super enjoyed Lilia interacting with all the different dorms; the fact that everyone is coming together in spite of their differences already shows tremendous growth in the entire cast. Then they had to rip out our hearts with the dramatic escalation…… ……… …… ….. .… .… . ..

THIS IS GOING TO BE REAL AWKWARD BECAUSE THE YEAR III TWST ANNI WILL SHOW MALLEUS AND LILIA POSING HAPPILY WITH THE OTHER THIRD YEARS MEANWHILE EVERYONE IS SUFFERING IN THE MAIN STORY UPDATES.

SDBSIHP9DBBHDyodVS The “it’s a dream” theory is seeming more and more real by the second… Early on in the update, Malleus related Gao-Gao Dragon-kun, a virtual character, to his current plight, saying that it would be better if a character that exists in a fictional world could exist forever??? And we know that Gao-Gao and the TWST boys live in a world where time advances and changes things (episode 7 opened with acknowledgement of Lilia losing his magic and the fourth year internships; ie everyone is “moving on” like how Gao-Gao does at the end of every month). Then Malleus has a lot of dialogue about how everyone will be protagonists of a fairy tale, how he will show them to a happy ending… PLUS THE OMINOUS ENDING WHERE HE BOOTS YOU TO THE MAIN SCREEN OF THE GAME?????? The part of the story when he casts his unique magic is also called “Forced Game Over” which seems oddly specific; why the forth-wall breaking title???? (It’s in the same vein as the title having “Wonderland” being an allusion to Alice’s Wonderland being just her dream.) AND THEN ON TOP OF THAT, THE VAGUE CONNECTION BETWEEN SILVER AND YUU’S DREAMING… What does this all mean????????

Malleus and Lilia are both trending–F

#Diasomnia #Malleus Draconia #Lilia Vanrouge #twst #twisted wonderland #spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver #Yuu #Ace Trappola #Ortho Shroud #Idia Shroud #Ignihyde #Deuce Spade #Leona Kingscholar #Dire Crowley #Riddle Rosehearts #Cater Diamond #Trey Clover #Azul Ashengrotto #Heartslabyul #Jade Leech #Grim #Vil Schoenheit #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theories #twisted wonderland theory #Floyd Leech

[yuurei20]

Ok so, I am kinda curious about relationship between leona and mc/yuu. I mean do Leona consider mc/yuu as friend or just a normal classmate?

Hello hello, thank you so much for this question, it turned into such a rabbit hole!

Leona can be difficult to read as he is extremely sarcastic, but he seems largely neutral on the younger students (re: Does Leona have a favorite first-year?) and less than patient with his fellow third-years (re: Idia and Malleus).

While there is Leona's line of "helping a friend in need" in reference to the prefect during Book 3, it is something that he has technically never said!

The word that EN changed to "friend" (ヤツ) is actually an impolite way to refer to a third person; Leona has never called the prefect a friend (this was also a sarcastic response to Ruggie guessing at the real reason why Leona interfered with Azul: to dispose of his own contract).

(EN went with a similar localization in Book 6.)

As the English language has the pre-existing saying of "a friend in need," that is what Leona's expression became on EN.

This is a perfectly accurate reinterpretation of the phrase and would normally not be worth mentioning, except: the word "friend" might have special significance in the Twisted Wonderland universe, or at least at NRC!

We have seen multiple instances of the characters recoiling at the thought of someone believing them to be friends: Epel panics when someone asks if he is friends with Malleus, while Idia disapproves of an insinuation that he, Sebek, Jade and Epel are friends during Harveston, saying that he has no friends at NRC.

Idia seems particularly resistant to the insinuation that he is friends with anyone except Muscle Red, refusing to attend Lilia's farewell party because, "We're not friends or anything...acquaintances at best."

(Lilia uses the same word to refer to Gloomurai that Leona uses to refer to the prefect, which was also translated to "friend" on EN, but is also not what he is technically saying. And Lilia refusing to call Gloomurai a friend may be tying into Lilia's character overall, with Lilia's understanding/misunderstanding of his own relationships being an important part of the still-ongoing Book 7.)

We get another example of Leona's resistance to the word "friend" during Halloween and Jack, too, expresses displeasure about using the label with the prefect, so it is not just Leona and Idia.

Thank you very much to @silverinnia for pointing out Malleus' use of "friend" on EN during Glorious Masquerade! ("Friend" was added to Malleus' English-language dialogue and is not something he has ever said.)

And thank you very much to @ezool for pointing out Ace's halloween vignette! We see a similar situation with Ace, where Lilia insinuates that he, the prefect, Grim and Deuce are close, and he vehemently denies it.

The group of Malleus, Jamil, Trey and Grim outright refuse to take a picture with a melon with Cater and the prefect that is supposed to make friendships last forever, and Najma's reaction may be insinuating that "friend" being a sensitive word is not a part of the culture of the universe, but may be unique to NRC.

Najma asks if the group has had an argument but Jamil explains, "This is just how we are." Najma responds, "Night Raven College must be one weird school..."

Jamil says outright that the members of the Firelit Sky group are not his friends, and when introducing them to others at the event he calls them his master's school friends.

This also ties in to Jamil's consistent refusal to allow Kalim to refer to them as friends.

And it makes the situation with Jamil's middle school friend particularly interesting, as he will regularly refer to that unknown person from his past as a friend, but no one else.

(Jamil also makes a point of saying he is glad he didn't make friends with Azul and will never do so.)

While Cater does refer to the Firelit Sky group as Jamil's friends, he pointedly uses the English-language word "friends" in katakana, in what may have been a brilliant way to symbolize Cater's outlook on friendship overall: we know he intentionally keeps his relationships shallow and surface-level, saying outright that he "doesn't really do long-term friendships or found family," because he's been hurt too often in the past. By calling himself one of Jamil's "friends" in katakana he turns the word into just a sound, so it is "friends" on the surface, but does not have any kanji to give it meaning

Cater having deep-rooted issues with friendship is an important part of his character.

So is there any character that actually, sincerely refers to any other character as their friend in the game?

Interestingly, the examples I have been able to find thus far are for Kalim, Silver and Rook: the only light-magic users 👀

(There is also a line from Deuce where he says that he and the prefect are close friends, but when asked to try and explain the slang that he uses he says, "nevermind.")

Azul and Riddle have a friend-based interaction during Book 6, with Riddle reluctant to accept Azul's offer that they refer to one another as friends.

This was extremely interesting character development, and may be a hint as to what is to come: is it possible that a part of the overall arc of the game is the characters learning to not recoil in revulsion in response to the word, "friend?"

(And towards the end of the first novel we have the prefect silently wondering if it would be okay to refer to Ace and Deuce as his friends, or if they would dislike it. A significant part of the main character of the novel is that he has no friends, so the forming of friendships is a major theme.)

To the original question: Leona has never technically referred to the prefect as a friend but the situation may be deeper than it seems, with the majority of the characters balking at the word "friend" despite the varying depths of their interpersonal relationships :> So exciting to watch unfold!

(And if anyone has any other examples of "friend" said aloud in the game, EN or JP, I would love to go search for screenshots to further add to the discussion!)

#twstask #twisted wonderland

[daisynik7]

Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, spit play, vaginal sex (doggy, cowgirl), cockwarming, use of pet names (princess and Master)

Word Count: ~5.6k

Summary: An alluring stranger gives you a special treat on the night of your 30th birthday. 

Notes: Kishibe is in his mid 40s. Also, apparently he is 6’4”, so reader is shorter, below 6’. This is very self-indulgent considering my own 30th is in a few days (shout out to all my fellow Pisces babes)! Also, I started this after finishing Chainsaw Man a few weeks ago, so this is a result of heavy Kishibe brainrot.

Additional Note: Check out Part 2 here: After Last Night! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!

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

The bass of EDM music reverberates through the speakers at the DJ’s booth. This particular bar you frequent turns into a club at 11 PM. College kids from the university down the street congregate in this establishment on the weekends, like today. You and your friends have been here since an hour ago, drinking and chatting in a booth hidden away to the side of the dancefloor. After dinner, you stopped by for a quick drink. With the booze and vibes just right, you ended up staying. 

Tonight, you celebrate your birthday. It’s the end of an era, really. You’re officially thirty. You’ve been dreading this day for the past few months, sad to bid farewell to your twenties, which wasn’t all that anyways. The number of times your friends reassure you that your thirties are the new twenties only brings you mild comfort. Glancing at the crowd tearing up the dancefloor, you can’t help being envious of their youth. 

Maybe it’s your buzz talking. You’re not one to feel sorry for yourself, especially about something as inevitable as aging. Thirty is young. Who cares if you’re the only one in your inner circle who’s single, unmarried, or childless? There’s no shame in it. You’re sick of women being scrutinized each year they get older for not doing what society tells them they should do. Who the fuck cares if you don’t have a ring on your finger or haven’t popped a baby out your vagina yet? It isn’t on your radar, and that’s perfectly fine. Men don’t get this much shit for remaining bachelors well into their forties or fifties, why should you?

You fidget with the glittery Dirty 30! sash you wear over your little black dress. A shimmering tiara sparkles on top of your head to complete your ensemble. Your friend’s voice in your ear snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hey birthday girl, how’s it going?”

Smiling, you hold your half empty glass up towards the middle. “Good. Thanks so much for coming out to celebrate tonight!” You’re ready to chug the rest of your liquor so you can head to the dancefloor. The other three women in your group cheers, clinking their drinks with yours. 

You’re about to suggest dancing when your friend says, “Shall we call it a night?”

It catches you off guard. The music just started and it’s not even midnight yet. You’re not ready to go back to the real world; it’s your special day until you fall asleep, which you don’t plan to do for a few more hours. You’re silent though, listening as the other girls repeat a similar sentiment. 

“My husband is waiting for me at home, so yes.”

“And my babies have an early morning play date tomorrow!”

Your friend beside you turns to you and asks, “Ready to go?”

Contemplating for a moment, you respond, “I think I might stay, actually. Have another drink or two.”

They stare at you bewildered, surprised you want to be here alone, which is unusual for you. “Are you sure?” they clarify.

“Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl now,” you joke, standing up to hug them. They kiss you on the cheek, greeting you one last happy birthday before leaving together to go home to their husbands and children. 

Craving another drink, you abandon your booth to approach the bar. You order your favorite: a vodka cranberry, your comfort cocktail throughout your 20s. A reminder that you’re still the same you despite moving up a decade. 

You close your tab, promising yourself this is your last, and go back to your table. It’s now occupied by an older man in a black coat, sipping on amber liquor. Annoyed, and slightly intrigued, you sit opposite of him in the same booth. He lifts his head up slowly, noticing you. 

“Hi there,” you greet him. Even in the dim light, the stitched scar on his left cheek stands out. The metal piercings on his ears glisten, the strobe lights reflecting off them from the dancefloor. 

“Can I help you?” His voice is low and raspy, either naturally or from the alcohol. 

“I was sitting here earlier. The other tables are all occupied, and I really don’t want to stand around on the dancefloor by myself. Can I sit here until I finish my drink? There’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You put on your most charming smile.

“Where are your friends? I’m sure you’d rather sit with them instead of with an old man like me.”

“They ditched me to go home. Besides, it looks like you could use the company.” You tip your cocktail into your mouth, keeping your gaze on him. 

He watches you, skeptical. “How old are you?”

You glance down at your sash, which is now twisted so that the answer to his question is on your back where he can’t see. You grin at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He hums, unamused. “I’m not keen on hanging out with girls in their 20s. Not really my style. Not tonight, anyways.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

Narrowing his eyes at your tiara, he responds, “You’re wearing a crown, drinking a cranberry vodka at a bar that plays this shit music. I’d say you’re 23.”

This amuses you, like getting asked for your ID does, which is becoming rarer nowadays. It’s flattering.

“Hey, you’re here too. The only difference is that you’re drinking a whiskey,” you tease him, pointing at his glass. 

“In my defense, I finished work nearby and this shitty cesspool was the closest bar I could find.” He takes a swig of his alcohol. “So, am I right?”

Sliding the sash to face him, you answer, “Nope. You’re wrong. Lucky for you, today is my birthday. And I just turned thirty.” 

He cracks a smile at this, giving you a flutter below your belly. You’re not typically into older men; however, this guy has piqued your interest. There’s something about him that is alluring. Exciting. 

“Happy birthday,” he says, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “Get anything good?” 

“No. But the night’s not over yet.” You’re full-on flirting now, not at all ashamed of how brazen you’re acting. Fuck it. You only turn thirty once, right?

There’s distance between you, but the tension is so thick, you could smell the bold scent of liquor coating his lips. He leans closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you something good.”

~~~

Minutes later, you’re in the back of the cab, riding towards an address he mutters to the driver. He holds you, interlocking his fingers with yours, peering out his window in silence. You focus on your entwined hands resting on the middle seat, the intimacy of it all distracting you from the fact that you’re about to hook up with this attractive stranger. 

The driver arrives to a swanky apartment complex. Once inside, Kishibe doesn’t give you enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of the room. In an instant, his lips are on yours, both palms cupping your cheeks assertively. Breath hot and chalky from the mint you saw him savor earlier in the car. It barely masks the lingering taste of that cigarette you witnessed him drag waiting for your ride. He didn’t have the same type of smoker’s breath that you’re sick of from your coworkers. With him, you don’t mind it at all. 

His hand trails down your neck, thumb carefully brushing over a pulse point right below your chin. His skin is rough and calloused compared to yours. The scraggly facial hair scattered along his jaw is scratchy on your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss, gazing at you while he removes his overcoat, hanging it on the rack in the corner, kicking his shoes off in the process. There’s a small bar cart in the kitchen, where he pours himself a whiskey. At the freezer, he reaches for the ice, dropping three cubes into the dark liquor with a plop. You stand still, observing him, nervous and thrilled about what this mysterious man will do to you tonight.

At the couch, he takes a seat, thighs spread wide, his wrist hanging low between them, gripping the top of the glass with his fingertips. “Come here,” he beckons. 

Removing your heels quickly and abandoning your purse, you step towards him, ready to sit beside him until he demands, “No. Not there.” He pats his thigh with his free hand. “Here.”

Your body trembles with lust as you straddle him, pussy pulsing against his muscular thigh. He studies you, from your hazy stare down to him between your legs, savoring his cold liquor all the while. You gulp loudly, obediently waiting for his next command. 

Gently removing the crown atop your head and tossing it aside, he asks, “What do you want from me, princess? It’s your birthday after all.” Hearing him call you princess gives you a rush you can no longer contain. You start moving on his thigh, riding it to feel the glorious sensations on your clit.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as you grasp at his collar to hold you steady. “This is what you want? Okay. Take what you need. Come on my thigh. I’ll watch.” His gravelly voice in your ear makes you ride him harder, grinding against him until your creamy mess is soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. You clench his tie, loosening it around his neck. He continues to watch you, sipping on his booze, enjoying his own private show.

Once the glass is empty except for the melting ice, he sets it down on the coffee table, pulling you in closer, his hand behind your neck. Lightly blowing cool, whiskey breath along your lips. You lean forward to kiss him, his tongue slipping past to explore your needy mouth. The longing for his touch on every inch of your body grows stronger by the second as you moan into the kiss, bouncing on his leg. 

“Can you come by yourself? Or do you need my tongue on it? I can lick it up real good if you’ll let me.” His obscene suggestion surprises you, as if you weren’t already performing lewd acts on his lap. You tug at his tie to pull him into another fierce kiss before sitting next to him on the couch, lifting the hem of your dress up to reveal your wet undergarments. 

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. But I’m not calling you Daddy,” you tease, spreading wide for him. 

His voice is low in his throat, kneeling on the carpet, face positioned between your thighs. “Good, because I prefer to be called Master.”

You roll your eyes at him, to which he responds, “What? You don’t like that? I bet I’ll have you screaming it all night long.”

This has you speechless as he drifts towards you, staring at the wet spot soaking through your lingerie. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He hooks his fingers around the fabric, stretching it to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Leaning in closer, he flicks his tongue gently onto your clit, causing you to squirm above him. 

He’s testing the waters, starting slow to gauge your limit. It’s gentle at first, toying with your bud until it’s plump and sensitive. Until your wanton moans are bouncing off the walls of his big, fancy apartment. There’s no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s obvious this man has years of experience beyond you. Having this stranger swirl his tongue on the most intimate parts of your body makes you weak in the knees. This is the first time all night that you’re thankful to be turning thirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this apartment, getting wrecked and torn apart by him.

“I’ve always wanted a plaything I can ruin,” he breathes out, finally wrapping his lips around you. “Will you be my pretty plaything tonight?” He surrounds your clit, drawing an erotic whimper from your mouth. 

“Fuck, Kishibe. Yes. Use me as your plaything, fuck.”

He eats you out noisily, emphasizing every wet sound his mouth makes on your swollen bud. Several times, he spits on it, spreading his saliva up and down your pussy, plunging his tongue into your entrance to get it lubricated with his own drool.  

“You’re fucking drenched down here. When’s the last time you let a grown man eat you out like this? I bet you’ve never been with someone like me, huh?”

You shake your head, swiping through his hair, spreading yourself wider for him. “Never.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance. “So fucking wet for me. I love it.” He pumps into you, curling his digits just right, resonating all the way down to your toes. His lips latch onto your clit, drinking you up to quench his insatiable thirst. 

“Hold these for me,” he says, guiding your fingers to your panties. “Want to stroke my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy out.” You hear the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of him shoving his fist into his slacks to jerk off. The vibrations from his moans tickle your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper into your arousal, practically drowning in it, flattening his tongue to smear his warm saliva all over. You whine in ecstasy, heedless of attracting any neighboring attention to your explicit blubbering. 

“Come on my face,” he muffles, too busy lapping up your clit to pull away, fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny and sleek with your slick.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your orgasm, pleasure jolting through your body while he works you until you’re overstimulated, twitching from the euphoria. He laughs softly, face glistening with your essence, taking a seat beside you. You watch him in a daze as he sticks his cum-coated fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “You want a taste, too?”

You nod, disoriented from your intense climax. He drags your bottom lip down using the pad of his thumb, mumbling, “Open.”

Obediently, you stick your tongue out for him, knowing fully well what he’s about to do. Your pussy throbs again, ready to be fucked for real by this provocative stranger you were so fortunate to meet tonight. 

He grazes your open tongue, then spits in your mouth. “Swallow,” he demands, voice husky with desire. You do, making sure to gulp loudly, incredibly aroused and needy for his cock. 

“Show me,” he whispers, opening his own mouth to mimic you. “Ah.”

You show him your tongue again, a dumb expression on your face while he inspects. Satisfied, he grunts, “Fuck, you’re bad. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He reaches down to your soaked panties clinging to you. “Take these off.”

He slides out of his trousers, revealing briefs that barely conceal his obvious bulge. As you slip out of your underwear, he removes his, displaying his impressive cock. “You going to ride this cock now?”

Without a word, you nod. You’re already anticipating how fucking amazing he’s going to feel inside you. Your brain is jumbled with naughty thoughts of him taking you in all positions in every room of his apartment. 

There’s a hungry gleam in his eyes as he watches you mount him. You hoist your dress up, stripping it from your body. He unclasps your bra, baring your breasts to him while he still wears his dress shirt and tie. For some reason, you want him to keep it on. Get it nice and dirty with slick and sweat.

You reach behind you to position him at your entrance. Once aligned, you slowly sink onto his cock, allowing yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size. Given his stature, it’s not surprising how big he is, both in length and girth. When you bottom out, he lets out a raspy fuck, holding your ass to squeeze your plush cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are, princess. Like I said, take what you need from me. Milk me dry. I know you want to.”

Spurred by his provocative encouragement, you ride him, rocking your hips back and forth onto his lap, gripping his cock tight with your wet cunt. Forehead pressed to his, lids closed, jaw hanging open, experiencing the best fuck of your life. With a brief glance, you catch him watching you, a similar dazed expression on his face. You bounce on him faster, his dick pounding into you over and over again, determined to feel every inch you possibly can. 

“Fuck, Kishibe, feels so fucking good,” you moan, directing his fingers down to your clit. “I want to come all over this cock. Make me come, Master.”

Bingo. His eyes widen as soon as it slips from your mouth. It’s the magic word. The trigger. 

Without hesitation, he brushes his thumb ruthlessly onto your swollen bud. “Say it again,” he demands, pressing it hard as he massages it, eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck, make me come, Master. Make me come.” You’re riding him so fucking good, couch creaking, clutching his shoulders tight, his carnal stare locked on your every movement. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls.

“I’m close, I’m close!”

Suddenly, he pulls out, cock covered in your arousal, wet and stiff against his abdomen. Strings of slick cling to the hem of his dress shirt. You’re about ready to yell at him for teasing you. Before you can, he stands up, grabbing your wrist to lead you into the bedroom. His breathing is heavy as he points to the bed, hastily removing his clothes. “On your knees, ass up. I’m going to fuck you so good. Make you squirt all over my fucking sheets.”

The anger immediately subsides and you’re back to being eager again, knowing damn well that he means every fucking word he says. You do as he commands, wiggling your ass to entice him. He chuckles behind you. “I’m sorry for denying you earlier. I just really want to see this ass bounce on my cock like this.” He teases you with his tip, tapping your clit, sliding it along your pussy lips. 

“You’re not forgiven,” you pout, growing impatient. 

Placing a soft kiss on your lower back, he laughs again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about this stranger you met mere hours ago, it’s that he is a man of his word. 

He guides his cock into you slowly, stretching you little by little until you’re squeezing him, his entire length inside you. “Look at you, sucking me in again like you were made for me.” He starts thrusting, holding you steady to penetrate you deeper. 

“So fucking good!” you cry out, fists bunched on his silky sheets, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, princess. It’s amazing for me too.” His heavy balls slap your damp skin with every brutal thrust of his hips, fucking you hard, dipping into your sweet spot until you’re woozy with pleasure. “You take it so good. So fucking sexy.” He tightens his grip on you, increasing his pace. “So fucking beautiful.”

You throw your ass back, arching your spine to get the perfect angle. With your cheeks bouncing obscenely against his thighs, you beg, “Spank me, Master. Spank me like a bad girl.”

Not wasting a second, his rough palm connects with your ass, the loud smack ringing in your ears. He spanks you again and again, your pussy clenching him tighter while you continue to thrust back onto his cock. You’re about ready to burst, desperate to reach your second orgasm after being denied earlier. You play with your puffy clit, electricity rippling through your body upon contact. Whimpering, you rub your bud faster as he pounds into you, cursing under his breath. 

“Fuck,” he moans, staring at your ass jiggle after each fresh slap he delivers. “Come on my cock, princess. That’s it. Get it creamy. Just like that, fuck.”

Waves of pleasure sweep over you, the intensity of it causing you to tremble before him. In the midst of your climax, you plead for him to finish inside you, greedy for his cum. It doesn’t take long for him to fill you up, staying nestled deep in you as he releases his warm load, letting out a husky fuck.

He pulls out, his warm release leaking from your pussy, dripping onto his sheets. He ogles at the pornographic sight in front of him, pleased with himself.

“Like what you see?” you tease, lowering your torso and relaxing on the bed.

“You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says, collapsing beside you. “Can’t believe I let you seduce me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You were the one who offered to give me something good for my birthday.” 

He raises a brow at you. “Did I succeed?”

You gaze at him, properly examining his appearance. Scruffy facial hair, eyes that are perpetually tired, the striking scar aligned with his frown. You find yourself wondering what his story is; someone this fetching must have a story.  

“Considering the mess we made, I would say you exceeded my expectations.” You lay your palm on his firm chest, his now steady heartbeat lightly thumping against your fingertips.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t a disappointment.” He doesn’t take his gaze off you. Normally, you’d be intimidated by such intense eye contact. With him, it’s different. You feel safe. He places his hand on top of yours, rugged thumb gently caressing the skin of your knuckles. The two of you stay like this, enjoying each other’s presence in an easy silence. 

“We can’t do this again,” he mutters, finally looking away from you. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, your hand still snug under his.

“Why not?” The shift in energy surprises you. This is not the typical pillow talk you’re accustomed too. 

“I’ll keep wanting to see you if we keep this up,” he admits. Although it’s a sweet sentiment, he’s deciding to end it here and now, not even waiting until the morning like in a typical one-night-stand.

Matching his candid demeanor, you ask, “What’s wrong with wanting to see me again?” A strange feeling of unease swells in your chest, anxious for whatever truth he’s about to reveal. 

He takes a breath before explaining, “I’m a Devil Hunter. The best in the world. My job is very dangerous. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.” He avoids you while he speaks, eyes laser focused on the ceiling, barely blinking. It’s as if he doesn’t want to say it; rather, it’s part of a script, forced to recite the lines like it’s standard procedure. How often has he had to deliver this sober spiel to his ex-lovers? You start to pity him, speculating how detached he must remain to the outside world strictly because of his risky profession. 

You continue to stare at him, letting the information sink it. The air is thick with a serious tension. It’s a sudden switch from the wild romp you just experienced. Choosing not to pester him further, you decide to lighten the mood. You scoot towards him, mouth skimming his ear, muttering, “Well, l didn’t really like you anyways.” The cold metal of his piercings contrast the soft warmth of your lips.

He turns to you again, the tension in his brows easing slowly as he gives you a small smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on the forehead. 

Sighing, you ask, “Can I at least spend the night?” 

“Of course. I’ll even cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean a cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey and a couple cigarettes,” you joke. 

He chuckles. “I’ll throw in some eggs for protein, does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever I can get, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.” 

There’s a small smile on his lips as he gazes at you. A minute passes and he reaches for you, grazing your cheek delicately. You feel comfortable in bed with him. Protected. You snuggle into his chest, his arms wrapping you into a bear hug. Cozy in his embrace, you listen to his rhythmic breathing, lulling you to sleep.

~~~

In the morning, you wake up alone, tucked under the covers, clothed only in a dress shirt, barely buttoned. The bedroom door is wide open, the sound of a pan scraping on iron ringing in your ears and the inviting smell of food cooking wafting from the kitchen. 

You spot a pack of baby wipes on the drawer next to you, noticing that your body is fresh and clean, opposite the sticky mess you fell asleep to. Next to it is a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. With these items in hand, you tip-toe into the bathroom, appreciating his thoughtfulness.  

When you’re done, you study his bedroom for the first time, and probably last. There are no pictures hung anywhere, no personal touch to anything. Only small traces of a man whose entire existence is his job. Several ties scattered on his dresser next to a metal flask. A mini calendar on his nightstand with random scribblings of future work commitments. Hamper in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with white dress shirts, black slacks, and a couple of mismatched argyle socks. You’re slightly tempted to investigate some drawers to see the type of weapons a Devil Hunter of his caliber carries, but you don’t.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him in the kitchen. He’s in a plain white t-shirt with navy-blue pajama pants. As promised, he is cooking a batch of scrambled eggs over the stove, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other. Looking domestic and sexy as hell. His words replay in your mind. You shouldn’t get attached to someone like me. You almost regret sleeping with him, knowing you’ll miss him after you leave. 

Quietly, you stroll towards him until he notices you. When he does, he takes a sip of coffee and mutters, “Morning, princess.” 

Positioned behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, raising your heels to place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. It’s only now that you realize how much taller he is than you. “Good morning, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d cook you breakfast, didn’t I?” He cranes his neck to face you, smirking. 

“You did. I’m pleased to see you keep your promise,” you tell him, resting your cheek on his back. “You’re truly a man of your word. I think that deserves a reward.” You slide your thumbs under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, teasing him. 

“If you tempt me, you won’t be able to taste this delicious meal I prepared for you,” he comments, setting his coffee mug down the counter and turning off the burner. His hand covers yours, maneuvering it over the growing bulge in his pants. 

“Maybe I’m craving something else for breakfast.” You start palming his erection, suddenly hungry for him rather than the food. 

He turns to face you, looking at you up and down in his dress shirt, your legs clenched together to hide your arousal. Still smirking, he says, “You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.” He slowly pushes you against the counter, running his fingers up your inner thigh, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt. 

You moan, anticipating another round of intense fucking, this time in his kitchen. It makes you want to christen every part of his apartment. 

“How are you this fucking wet for me already?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb on your throbbing clit. “You’re so sexy, it’s driving me insane.”

“Kishibe,” you breath out, struggling to steady yourself. “Fuck.”

“I got you. Get on the counter for me, princess. Spread those legs so I can lick that pussy clean.” 

With his hands on your waist guiding you, you hop up, opening wide for him. Knees bent and body folded forward, he starts licking your clit, palming his erection through his pants. You come within minutes, gushing over his tongue as it glides along your slit, nose digging firmly onto your swollen bud. 

“Fuck me, Kishibe. Want that big cock inside me. Want you to fill me up again with your cum.” You hop back down, turning around and lifting the hem of the dress shirt past your ass, ready to get railed right there on the countertop.

“Not like this,” he murmurs, kissing you on the cheek. “Wait for me in my room. We’re going to have breakfast in bed together.”

Minutes later, a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon set on top is temporarily forgotten as the two of you fuck on the other side of the bed. Him sitting up, back pressed to the headboard, you riding him until he spills inside you, causing you to orgasm again all over him. 

You slump forward, resting your head on his shoulder, tired and satiated from another amazing fuck. Attempting to slide off him, he kisses you on the lips, his grip firm on your waist, unyielding. “Keep my cock inside you. Can you do that for me?” 

In your blissful state, all you can do is nod, getting comfortable on his lap. He reaches for a slice of bacon on the tray, letting you take the first bites before he finishes it, doing the same for a piece of buttered toast. He feeds you forkfuls of scrambled eggs, using the same utensil for himself. It’s pleasantly intimate for two people who just met. Playing the role of a long-term couple, indulging in simple delights together, like breakfast in bed.

Plate cleared, both your bellies full of nourishment, you stay in this position, kissing each other leisurely, no rush to separate. He whispers your name, fondling your breasts through the fabric of his dress shirt that you’ve made yours. He repeats it a few more times, relishing how it feels on his lips before he never has to utter it again. 

It’s bittersweet, knowing it’s ending as soon as it begun. You have no reason to be so smitten with him. You’re two people who hardly know each other. Still, you find yourself not wanting to say goodbye yet. Something’s there. A tiny spark flickering in the distance. Maybe you’re one of many women he’s done this with before. Maybe you’re nothing special. But in this fleeting moment, you let yourself believe it’s real.

The two of you reluctantly part after an especially long, passionate kiss. You dismount him, grabbing the wipes to clean up the mess that was made earlier. He gives you a smooch on the forehead before getting out of bed to exit the room, returning in less than a minute to hand you your outfit from last night. You briefly recall carelessly discarding it all over his living room floor right before you pounced on him. Is it too soon to consider that a fond memory? It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re reminiscing about him already. 

He leaves you alone in the bedroom to change. Before you undress, you bring the sleeves of the shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, memorizing his scent. You almost want to keep this shirt as proof that this happened. That Kishibe is real.

Back in your black dress, you sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his return. When he walks in, he points at the sash and tiara next to you on the bed. “You’re not going to wear that?”

Shrugging, you respond, “It’s no longer my birthday, so it feels silly wearing it. Just toss it.”

You check your phone, estimating the time of arrival for the ride you requested. Any minute now, they’ll be here, ending your short-lived tryst. He offers to drop you off, but you refuse, not bothering to explain that doing that will result in you dragging him into your own apartment and keeping him a willing hostage for another few hours. It’ll only make it more difficult to not get attached. He doesn’t question it, probably understanding this himself. 

The ping from the app chimes through your phone. You stand up, smiling at him, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

He walks you to the door, waiting for you to strap on your heels. Once they’re on, you smile. “I guess this is it. Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. This was fun.” It could be wishful thinking, but you hear a waver in his voice. Is he a little bit sad too?

You face the door, ready to turn the knob, when you feel his grip on your wrist. He spins you towards him, kissing you feverishly, his hand caressing your cheek, the other behind your neck. Yearning for one more moment of intimacy with you. He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shut as he says goodbye with one last whisper of your name. You avoid his gaze as you exit, walking out of his life.

It’s better this way. 

#kishibe #kishibe csm #chainsaw man #kishibe smut #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe x y/n #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe brainrot #chainsaw man kishibe #dirty thirty

[dayinadream]

After losing 20 members of his family, fellow journalist Moamen Al-Sharafi is deprived of seeing his family and saying goodbye to them.

بعد ان فقد ٢٠ من افراد عائلته ، الزميل الصحفي : مؤمن الشرافي يحرم من رؤيته عائلته والقاء نظرة الوداع عليهم.

20 members of my friend's family, journalist: Moamen Al-Sharafi, were martyred this morning after an explosive barrel was thrown at his family's home. Moamen has not seen his parents since the beginning of the war, and even after their martyrdom, He can't bids them farewell due to the blocking of roads between the cities.

Via belalkh

Via Aljazeeraenglish

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #israel #signal boost #social justice #human rights #colonialism #december #journalists

[theonewithallthefixations]

Hey, look! The Easter bunny came and brought a basket! You should look inside!

#Ho Ho Ho happy Easter to all my LU fandom friends! #Enjoy! #I mention Jesus and Christianity #But it’s for the funnies I swear #I don’t go into any doctorine #Roolie’s got it down #He knows what the stuff is about #Farewell fellow humans

[thedarkone121]

Dracula: Storm the Castle (Concept Poster)

Summary:

Wilhelmina Murray, a schoolteacher who goes by Mina to her friends, hasn't heard from her fiancé Jonathan Harker since he left on a work trip to Romania a few months ago. With no word and the months passing by, Mina has grown worried.

But then, a letter from Jonathan arrives. He explains that he is doing well and that he would like for Mina to come to Romania as a chance to scout the area out for their honeymoon. While suspicious of the contents, Mina now has proof that her soon-to-be husband is alive, and she knows his location. With her bags packed and a tearful farewell to her friends, Mina heads to Transylvania, Romania.

However, it does not take long for Mina to realize that something is amiss. How the townspeople react to the castle whenever she brings it up, the fact she is even having trouble to find a ride to the castle, not to mention the strange Ladies of the Castle who welcome her in... With no Jonathan in sight.

But Mina did not come all this way for nothing. No matter what horrors await her, Mina will find Jonathan and they will get married. They both waited long enough.

End of Summary

Hello fellow people of the Dracula fandom! I'm sure you all saw my draft ideas on how I would try to adapt Dracula floating around the tags. Being introduced to the pairing of Jonathan and Mina has done something to my brain and I felt compelled to get my ideas out there.

I would like to make this into an animated show since I am a storyboard artist but, in the meantime, I wouldn't mind posting all my concept art for my idea. Stay tuned cause I'm planning on doing concept designs for Mina and Jonathan, maybe the Vampire Sisters as well.

#my art #darky draws #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #jonathan harker #mina murray #mina harker #jonmina #jonathan x mina #Dracula: Storm the Castle #art #concept art

[yujo-nishimura]

Red Hair or Red Nose?

Comment: I haven't written anything like this in 20 years, so please be gentle with me and my attempt to be creative. ;) Buggy, Shanks x fem reader - I had the idea that the real reason for their rivalry was a love interest. This is rather fluffy and romantic, I tend to write SFW but I might continue adding some spice later.. ;)

Also don't hate me for the title <3

Warning: English is not my native language, I only write for the enjoyment, I have been a One Piece fan for 20 years, but not as dedicated as I am supposed to. ;)

It has been several years since you made the decision to part ways with the Red-Haired Pirates and embark on your own journey. The initial entertainment of the constant rivalry between Shanks and Buggy, which was funny at first, had gradually transformed into a farce that grew increasingly tiresome. As a young girl, you felt incapable of pledging your loyalty to either of these captains. Instead, you held your own vision of adventure and exploration on the Grand Line.

Having spent some years on Gold D. Roger's ship, you reached a point where you felt it was time to forge your own path. With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to your fellow crew members, leaving behind a profoundly saddened Shanks and a furious Buggy. You recognized that it was necessary to discover your true self and create some distance from those who sought to control and dictate your life.

However, deep down, you held onto the hope that someday you would cross paths with your childhood friends once more. You eagerly anticipated that, as they matured, Shanks and Buggy would overcome their rivalry and conflicts, transforming into an unbeatable duo, renowned as the most daring and fearless pirates on the Grand Line.

Little did you expect that fate would bring you together again, reuniting all three of you in one location. To your dismay, you discovered that nothing had changed in their immaturity and insatiable desire to outdo one another. The relentless competition and quarrels went on, defying your hopes for a more harmonious reunion.

Seated in a cozy pub within a small town, you found yourself taking a break while your modest crew of five ventured out to gather supplies for your journey. Beside you, the navigator quietly sipping his drink, engrossed in studying the surrounding islands' charts. With a sense of tranquility, you sipped on your third whiskey, relishing the calm that washed over you. The previous days at sea had been harsh and tiresome, and this brief intermission served as a well deserved break.

Reflecting upon your role as captain, you couldn't help but acknowledge the absence of a warning about the challenges and responsibilities that would accompany your departure from Gold D. Roger's crew. Sometimes you were just really tired and wished you had chosen a different path. Not being the one to everybody was relying on, but having someone to rely on yourself. Your crew loved you and was loyal, but you knew that it was not always easy to make the right decisions.

Amidst the silence, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a quarrel coming from outside. A distinct laughter, filled with warmth and familiarity, pierced through the peaceful atmosphere, contrasting against an enraged voice that screamed:

"What did you say? You were lying about the treasure map? Damn you!"

"It was a spur of the moment thing, Buggy!"

As the words reached your ears, a surge of disbelief washed over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. The voice, the name—it couldn't be true! In an instant, you rose from your seat, causing your navigator to stumble in surprise. "Captain...?" With determination across your face, you swung open the pub's door, your eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you.

There they stood, the two individuals you hadn't laid eyes upon in years. Buggy the Clown, his face split by an angry grin, standing confidently at one end, his blue hair hidden under his hat. Shanks, the charismatic captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, standing at the other end, his trademark red hair shining in the moonlight.

As your gaze fixed upon the grown men before you, disbelief washed over you once more. Both Shanks and Buggy had transformed into striking individuals, tall and muscular. Shanks, draped in a dark cape, possessed an air of tranquility and composure that radiated from him and his charming smile. In contrast, Buggy's flamboyant attire, adorned with vibrant colors, accentuated his clown nose and his face adorned with flashy makeup. They were undeniably stunning.

A gulp escaped your throat as a peculiar sensation stirred within you, similar to fluttering butterflies or perhaps little caterpillars partying in your intestines. It might also just be the Whiskey. When had those two teenage boys blossomed into these charismatic pirate captains? And more importantly, when would they notice your presence, frozen in astonishment, between their encounter?

To be continued...

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #one piece

[bones4thecats]

Could I get a Sebek Zigvolt x fem!reader, where he is so adamant about not being in love with a human even though she admits that she loves him. However, when Crowley finds a way for her to get home, and he learns that she is planning to go home. That is what it takes for him to admit that he loves her.

I want angst plz 🙏

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Sebek Zigvolt Name: Sebek Confessing Before MC! Reader Leaves Requester: @blues824

A/N: I really need to start writing for Twisted Wonderland more. After all of these requests empty out, I'm gonna write a few pieces dedicated to my Twisted Wonderland fans! Now, my lil bubbles🫧, have nice days/nights!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

⚡ On everything he was upset

⚡ Sebek knew that hearing the news that you were leaving would shake Diasomnia dorm members up a bit, but he only planned on making sure Malleus got better and ready to lead their homeland

⚡ Everyone knew, including Sebek, that Malleus would be upset, since you were basically his first ever real friend, but, why was Sebek upset?

⚡ Maybe he was feeling guilty about you confessing your romantic interests in him a few days prior, but maybe, just maybe, he didn't want you to leave like everyone else

⚡ Malleus, Lilia, and Silver all went with him to give you their farewells, and Sebek came so he could help console Malleus once you left

⚡ When you looked into Sebek's chartreuse eyes, he felt his heart begin to sink, why was it so heavy?

⚡ Lilia looked at you and pat your head before Silver hugged you with Malleus gripping onto you with all the care he had given you, you were like a little sibling to him after all!

⚡ Sebek stood there as you smiled and bowed, saying the words;

" I hope you all live your dream lives while I go home and live my own. Goodbye everyone... "

⚡ Once your footsteps started hitting the ground of the mirror chamber, Sebek began to allow his mind to race faster than it ever had before

⚡ He was nervous because... you were leaving! He wasn't sad because of Malleus' sobs he'd hear that night... he was sad because you, the one human that made him feel more than platonic love for someone, was leaving him behind!

⚡ The other students' eyes widened as he broke out into a sprint and began to call your name in a broken cry

⚡ But it was too late...

⚡ It closed as he jumped towards you, and he slammed his knees into the hard ground of the floor, tears flowing down his cheeks like a pair of waterfalls

⚡ You were gone, and would never return...

⚡ Lilia sat in front of the half-fae and began to hug him while he cried, Silver and Malleus joined to release their own sobs of inevitable grief

⚡ The cries and sobs of Sebek Zigvolt would haunt the ears of everyone who heard them that night

⚡ And while their ears were straining to hide the sounds of their fellow dorm-member's wails, the only thing he could think of was you...

⚡ You had left him...

⚡ And you would never know that he loved you all the same in return...

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Diasomnia #Night Raven College #NRC #Twst x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Diasomnia x Reader #Night Raven College x Reader #NRC x Reader #F! Reader #GN! Reader #MC! Reader #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

[deadlyashesart]

Alastor's disappearance (Part 1)

Part 1 of a fanfiction I'm writing! There's not enough Rosie angst in this world so I have to do it myself. I've never written fanfiction before, by the way. Don't hurt me if it's bad LOL. I wanted to post this on AO3 but realized I didn't have an AO3 account and they said it might take me till April to get one and I don't wanna wait...

Based on a post I made yesterday.

Part 2

-----

It had been five months since Rosie had last seen her dear friend, Alastor. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary coming from the Radio Demon, but something deep in Rosie’s gut told her something was gravely wrong. Despite this, she had a colony filled with cannibals to feed, and couldn’t waste her time worrying about something as simple as a ‘gut feeling’.

Rosie sat at the front desk of Franklin and Rosie’s Emporium. It was a beautiful day—at least as beautiful as it got in Hell—and the emporium was packed. Rosie was aiding a customer, unaware her business partner was standing right behind her.

Franklin leaned in close. “Rosie, I believe you should step aside with me for a moment,” she whispered.

Rosie paused, turning her head slightly before bringing her attention back to the customer on the other side of the counter. “Mrs. Odette, I’m so sorry, but I must cut our consultation short. I insist you take my card and come back soon!” she said politely, handing the fellow cannibal her business card before waving a hand, gesturing for her to leave.

Rosie followed Franklin away from the crowd, every so often glancing back at the long line that waited for her return. “What is it, my dear? I’m quite busy.”

“It’s about Alastor. He’s gone missing,” Franklin answered abruptly. She spoke quietly as if exchanging top-secret information.

Rosie laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh darling, don’t be so ridiculous!”

“I’m not! Everyone’s talking about it. He hasn’t been seen anywhere, and his radio show hasn’t been updated in weeks! You, of all people, should know how much he loves that show, he wouldn’t miss a day, at least without telling anyone!” Franklin went silent, and a thought crept into her head. “Oh, I wonder if he’s been killed..!”

Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. After a moment of thought, she spoke, “I’m sure he’s fine, darling.”

“I see… Very well then, I just wanted to let you know. I’m aware you two are very good friends.”

“Yes, and I’m certain he’s quite alright. He’s most likely just taking a break from the radio scene!” Rosie replied, knowing deep down that even she didn’t believe a word she was saying. “Besides, if he was killed, the murderer would’ve made a big show about taking down the mighty Radio Demon, would they not? As far as I know, that hasn’t happened yet!”

Franklin nodded softly. “You’re right, you’re right… If that had happened, we’d have something a lot worse to worry about.”

“Correct. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to attend to.” Rosie curtsied as a gesture of farewell before returning to the front desk of the emporium.

-----

Later that night, Rosie tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. She couldn’t stop worrying about Alastor, just the thought of him brought an ache in her chest. After a while of fighting with her internal dialogue back and forth, she groaned in defeat. She sat up and reached for the small radio that was on her bedside table, a gift from Alastor to show his appreciation towards her. Her hands fiddled with the dials as she turned the frequency to Alastor’s radio show; There was nothing but static.

Rosie sighed, unsure why she thought that would work. He didn’t even broadcast this late at night. She was desperate. All she wanted to hear was her dear friend’s voice, so she could know he was alright, know if he was hurt, know if he was alive. She silently cursed Franklin’s name, frustrated with her putting the thought of Alastor’s death in her mind.

Rosie didn’t get any sleep that night. Or the next night, or the next.

-----

A few weeks passed, and she didn't get better. Franklin walked up to Rosie, handing her a cup of fresh coffee. “You look like hell, darling. Have you been getting any sleep?”

Rosie sat down on the couch, exhausted from her terrible sleep schedule. She took a huge sip of coffee, but that didn’t do much. “I’m fine, Franklin… I just… Would you mind taking the morning shift today?” She brought a hand to her head, feeling slightly lightheaded.

“Okay, I can do that! But you’re obviously not fine, dear. The bags under your eyes have gotten worse, this isn’t like you!”

Rosie’s eyes drifted toward the radio that was placed on the coffee table in front of her, and Franklin immediately connected the dots. “Oh, my dear, is this about Alastor’s disappearance?”

Rosie did not respond. Franklin sighed. She sat down next to her and slowly pulled her into a hug, and she could feel Rosie shiver as a lump caught in her throat.

“I don’t know where he could’ve gone… Maybe he is dead, Franklin,” Rosie mumbled, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t want to cry, I don't want to worry. He’d probably laugh if I did, but… Fuck, I miss him.”

-----

#radiorose #platonic radiorose #alastor and rosie #rosie and alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #hurt/comfort #angst