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shockedemojiatsv · 1 month

Text

▪︎■☆ молоко 🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: Milk)

Part 1, Part 2

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ amab! Switch! Francis Mosses / gn! Switch! Reader

☆ Reader can have either amab genitalia or a strap

☆ soft sex

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis

☆ short

☆ a little bit of a twist in the end

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

Francis was usually a laid back person who had a hard time showing any physical reactions to his feelings (not out of being stoic, usually he's just a little too tired to smile when he's happy or scream when he's scared). He wasn't one to smile all the time, but he showed his affection through other means. Like walking behind your back and kissing the nape of your neck and whispering "Золотце" (darling) behind your ear.

Or offering you some of his milk from work that his job wasn't able to sell so that you both could make something together or eat cereal together. There are a lot of doppelgangers everyday, everywhere, so he really cares about you. Even when he's usually too tired to express it with his face, he'll do so with his actions.

D.D.D. Is a pretty strict, so you and him made it an effort to always do everything required. If he forgot his hat at home he'd have a spare at work. You'd both work on your entry requests and always keep your ID's with you and to try to make an effort to always add your names on the list. Even if there would be an emergency at work. Just some extra measures to ease his anxiousness. And yours.

Other than that, being with him is always sweet. Like a warm mug of milk on a cold day. Steaming and keeping you warm.

Not to mentioned the sex with him. God. There's something about him and sex that makes you glad he's yours and yours alone.

His fingers are long. Not that thick, but he knew how to use them. Keenly observing your reactions within each prod as his digits brushed against a bundle of nerves that has you clutching his neck tight and holding him closer to you as he whispers "Куколка (dolly)... mmm... look at you"

He's not as verbal but he certainly has a smile on his face when he pleasures you and gives you what you want. Stroking and rubbing st your junk, it's wet. Thanks to him latching his mouth on the organ so that you could cum a couple times beforehand. He just wants to make you happy not gonna lie.

Oh, but sometimes he'll end up being a little too tired from work and not have the stamina to move at all. Not to worry! He'll be your pillow princess for the night. He loves those nights. You'll kiss his forehead softly whilst you thrust inside of him. A slow, passionate pace. You're slowly rearranging his guts while he holds the sheets so tight you'll fear they might rip in the morning.

He's a hummer. He'll hum and murmur stupid when he's fucking you. Or when you're fucking him. Phrases like "mmm... oh... З-Золотце... mmmmnnn..."

He can't help it! Even if he tried. He got shy about it actually but when you do engaged in sex more he felt like comfortable doing it. Honestly it's adorable.

Especially when he's giving oral. He's humming and drunk on the taste of you and he's always humming and moaning softly as you use him, and it feels so good. The added stimulation is so goddamn heavenly. And he's always good. He'd never tease and he never uses his teeth. He doesn't mind though if you do it. He's flexible with your desires. As long as if it isn't extreme or legitimately disgusting.

You love him so much and he loves you too and the entire building definitely knows.

...

So when he comes home with an odd demeanor. As if he's forgotten everything you two shared previously, as if hes a totally different person, you'll only have yourself to save before it's too late.

1K notes · View notes

walpu · 2 months

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Hellohello, peeking from the corner

And dropping by to request Aventurine x reader that likes to give him trinkets and souvenirs from their travels.

And then one day they came with Ashy Paste/Grey Bean Paste version of them and him together all smiley faced and all.

(Fun fact, from a leak: Aventurine's actual name is Kakavasha. Fun fact 2: Kakava is a celebration event of the Romani people)

- 🪽

Aw it's such a cute request 😭 shaking crying asking hoyo to make the second part of the cats event with penacony and belobog characters

I've seen the leaks about his name and the meaning behind it since I'm literal insane about this man. Honestly this is such a pretty name 🥹

Hope you'll enjoy reading this 🌸

giving Aventurine Ruan Mei's cat creations that resemble the two of you

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, fluff, was written with the established relationship in mind but works for pre-relatioship stage as well, no beta see I'm capable of writing something other than angst

First of all, he absolutely adores it when you give him small gifts from your travels.

It's a reminder that you care about him enough to think of him when he's not around.

And while yes, it's obvious that you care, it's nice to know that you care enough to go out of your way to do something for him.

He's a miserable man with no friends okay even the small trinket is enough to make him happy.

Keeps them safe and takes care of each and every gift you give him. Brings some a lot of them with him to casino or/and to his business meetings, claiming that those are his lucky charms.

If it's a peace of jewelry then he would not hesitate to buy several sets of clothes just to have numerous outfits specifically to show off your gift.

If it's some unusual gift then he would not leave you alone until you tell him where did you get it.

Speaking of unusual gifts. He certainly didn't expect that your visit the Herta Space Station will result in you bringing with you two... cat thingies?

At first he simply doesn't get it. It's a bit impractical for you to get a pet since you're traveling so much, no?

But then he notices. Something.

"Darling, call me a delusional romantic but don't they resemble us, hmm?"

When you tell him that those cat thingies are, in fact, creations of Ruan Mei herself, and you just accidentally helped her to creat two cats that resemble you two, he can't help but laugh.

"Ah, sugar, seems like it's not just me who is a helpless romantic. So you've missed me that much that you made are a cat just like me, haha?"

You explain to him that you didn't actually adopt them, Ruan Mei just let you take them with you for some time to examine how socialization with others outside if the Herta Station may affect them.

At first he thinks it's for the best, since, once again, it's impractical to keep them as pets.

Spoiler warning he'll pout and whine when it's time to return them to Ruan Mei.

Loves observing them. Like genuinely adores doing it. Especially if it's the cat that resembles you. Would pester you to take a look every time the cat acts like you.

Would probably feel a bit uncomfortable around the Aven!cat but eventually would warm up to him as well. Mostly because he'll notice how much the reader!cat loves him.

Takes a lot of pictures of the cats together and sends them to you.

"Us <з" "Yeah well they were literally made after us so..." "Uuuussss 😚😚😚"

You know how a lot of cat thingies were talking in high pitched voices? Yeah he would chuckle and pester you to try to talk like that as well.

Lmao but imagine Aven!cat saying something about risks and gambling and benefit etc etc in this high pitched voice. Aven himself would probably chuckle and say something like ”haha little guy knows what it's all about” but would sulk if you'll tease him about it.

Would probably try to buy them from Ruan Mei afterwards lol

#hsr aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #reader insert #aventurine x reader #aventurine #walp's writing

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thetopichot · 8 months

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•°☆ Comfort Prompts II ☆°•

Wassup, my mammals. You guys really liked my first prompt thingy that I made on here, so I gots a sequel. (*っ･з･)ﾉ

"Look at me. Focus on my eyes. Good job. Now, just keep on focusing on me, angel. Everything is going to be okay."

"Come join me in the blanket! I'll keep you warm & safe from the thunder, babe!"

"Do you want me to bake you some warm cookies? You can't work yourself to the bone without eating at least."

"Don't worry, baby! I got tissues & everything you need! I even got DVDs of [Insert you/character's favorite show]! I don't know. I thought it might help you feel better."

"If it's too much, just squeeze my hand as hard as you can. Understand, dear?"

Them wrapping you in a blanket burrito when you're sad, then kissing your face.

Letting you vent non-stop about how angry/sad you feel in their lap while they hold your hands.

Them being your personal cheerleader while you work yourself to the bone.

Taking a nap together because you were stressed out about work.

Trying to make you laugh by saying corny jokes to make you feel better.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - ERMMM WHAT THE SCALLOP?? TF DID YOU GUYS COME FROM???

I really wanna say thank you so much!! I'm glad that you guys really like it. It was my first time writing something in a while. I'm so happy rn. I was kinda bored when I was writing that so uhh thank you!! I hope that the rest of my simping content will be just as good! (^∇^)

#the cat speaks #otp #otp prompts #writing #writing prompt #writing prompts #fluff #self insert prompts #simping #fluff prompts #comfort #comfort prompts #romantic prompts #romantic #romance #romance prompts #fluff prompt #self shipping

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sillygoosealert · 1 month

Note

LET ME COOK NEOW..What if Bi Han witnessed readers death in the most horrible way but..HE WAKES UP AND READER IS FR LAYING THERE KNOCKED TF OUT😭BACK FACING HIM LFMAOAOA. Anyways Bi Han realizes he needs to be more ummm, loving so he holds reader close and they wake up and are like “you good🤨”

WAIT, WAIT A MINUTE YOU’RE ONTO SOMETHING

Hey, are you okay? (◦˘ З(◦'ںˉ◦)♡

RAHH ANGST, however.. there IS comfort this time 💕, description of gore n stuff

Bi-Han is walking into your shared room after an argument

You were standing in front of him just a minute ago, but when he walks into the room, gore is splattered everywhere

He runs over to your body, shaking you as he tries to put your intestines back into your opened stomach

They keep spilling out, every time he tries to look into your eyes they look away, they won't face him

Then when he looks back to your stomach- your organs are..gone?

They're missing, there is nothing left

He has taken all you are, there is nothing left

He tries to look at your face but he can't, it's deformed beyond reconciliation. It doesn't even look like you anymore

He wakes up, your back facing him as he dry heaves

You are snoring, drooling on your pillow, legs spread out as you continue to stay in your own world

Sweat is covering him, but he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in

You wake up, to a very sweaty man shivering into you

‘What are you doing..?’

‘Please..please just give me a second..’ he's nuzzling into you, smelling you?

He calms down, keeping his head tucked into your neck

‘Bad dream?’ you are worried now, trying to pry yourself away

He pulls you back and grunts into your neck, so you stay like that for a little

Then he decides you won't die as soon as he lets go, so he retreats his arms and picks you up out of bed

Taking you with him, you dress together

Then he sits you down on the chair in front of the vanity and grabs a comb

‘What are you doing?’

‘Brushing your hair’

‘Why?’

Silence

‘I want to show you..my gratitude for your presence in my everyday life’

‘Why now?’

You think he's going to cry, he's slightly shaking, and he looks scared

‘Because I don't want your last memory of me to be of how much you hated me, and how you wish you were with another man. One that could keep you safe, that can provide for you better than I can…’

Now you're silent

But that's a pretty good reason, you think

‘Oh, yeah, you can brush my hair then..’

‘Okay..’

It’s awkward, and you don’t think he’s brushed someone else’s hair before

‘I can brush my own hair if you just want me to brush yours?’

‘I wanted to brush your hair, I want to be better to you’

You a take a breath, he's trying, for some reason..

‘Okay, take your time, thank you’

‘Okay..you’re welcome..’

It takes him a minute, but he gets out most of the tangles

Then you brush out his hair, giving him a man bun

‘This is..good..’

‘Thank you Grandmaster’

‘You are on a first-name basis with me now’

‘Oh, okay’

Wow, you've been upgraded

Throughout the day he makes an effort to make sure you are comfortable, and also near him

Then night creeps into the day, infecting it with its disease

You are both in bed, looking at each other

‘You were nice to me today’

‘I tried’

‘Thank you’

He says nothing, putting a hand on your shoulder

‘I had a dream..that I no longer had you in my life. It scared me, a lot.’

‘I won't be leaving you anytime soon Bi-Han, I promise’

‘Can you promise that?’

‘No, but I expect you to know I will try every day to come back to you’

‘Thank you..’

Of course, get some rest, we have another day together tomorrow..’

‘Goodnight..’

‘Goodnight Bi-Han..’

You fall asleep facing each other tonight,

This is SUPPOSED to be awkward and weird, but comforting, I hope that's how you felt 🎀

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #bi han #bi han x reader #mk1 bi han #bihan #angst #mk1 angst #mortal kombat angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with comfort #comfort #mortal kombat bi han #mortal kombat sub zero #mk bi han #mk1 sub zero #mk1

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brighttears · 10 months

Note

heyy bright 😁 so i’ve been realizing that i think most of your fics are Jackson/ after QZ joel (correct me if i’m wrong though, this is just what i think i’m noticing) and i’m wondering what are your thoughts on QZ Joel? would you ever write for him? (^з^)-☆

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description except female sex organs and having hair, no use of y/n

Word count: 9.7k

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, angel, good girl), creampie, Joel has a big ol weiner, drinking, mention of violence, blood, mention of prostitution (does not occur, has not occurred in the past), smoking (cigar, cigs briefly), sad!Joel for a minute but happy ending :), Tess doesn’t exist (sorry Tess)

A/n: you are right i’ve been noticing that i lean too much on Jackson so thank u for this request and i’m gonna try not to do that. had no intention of this being this long it just kind of happened lol. i know i didn't explicitly answer your question but i hope this explains some? idk this just came out of me so here it is i hope you enjoy !!!

—

Boston is ugly. It’s impossible to breathe a clean breath, impossible to get clean. Joel’s lungs are black and he doesn't smile. He may sleep, but he gets no rest, and you can see it easily in his eyes. The QZ is full of sickness—lying, cheating, stealing, there's no honor here. It's impossible not to have some of it rub off on you. It's almost impossible to see anything past it. Almost.

The first time Joel saw you he felt like a rat stepping onto a glue trap. He hadn’t realized he had stopped to stare until someone bumped into his shoulder, taking him back into the bustling street, and then you’d disappeared and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen that beautiful girl or not. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, dropping dreams or ghosts down just to make things interesting. He mostly shook it off. Still, only half believing that you were even real, he’d catch himself scanning around, looking for you out in the streets. And then he saw you again, and again, minding your business somewhere across the street, painting over Firefly logos while under guard’s watch—never somewhere that he could get to. Every time he saw you felt like taking a hit of you, and he always wanted more. Whenever he found himself with too little to do, he’d set out, treating Boston like a maze to find you, slipping around booths and through speakeasies and alleys. Despite how packed Boston is, goddamn, you were hard to find. He was aware that it wasn’t… normal behavior, but that’s as far as he got in caring about that. It was a frustrating hobby, though, like an itch he couldn't scratch, because he didn’t understand what he was feeling, or what he wanted, or who the fuck you thought you were, doing this to him, or how he was going to get himself out of this one. He had to interrogate himself to figure out that what he wanted was for you to need him.

He wanted you to be with him, never leave his side, never want to leave, and he’d be so good to you, he’d be the knight to your queen. You had him bad, you were driving him crazy.

You had burrowed your way into his head. It was nice to have something to daydream about, though—your smile, a smile that he gave you, that’d be for him. He’d daydream about you dancing, you’d be twirling with your eyes closed, arms out, all lit up in orange light like evening sun but holier, and he’d reach out and your fingers would brush his and you’d smile with your eyes closed because you wouldn’t have to open them to know that it’s him. And then he’d spin you into his arms, wrap you up, hold you safe. He’d daydream about his hands on your stomach, holding your back against him, your hair on his face. He would dream about you taking his face in your hands, kissing him, loving him, fucking him. He imagined your voice—put together from small bites of ‘overheard’ conversations—telling him you’re his.

They used to make rings for this shit. Now all you’ve got is metaphors and sex. What a world to love in.

The problem with all of this, however, is that he wanted to know you already. Joel doesn’t know how to develop this kind of relationship, with anyone, actually, and he cringed at the idea of actually trying to do it. If he did even end up finding you, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He genuinely could not come up with an answer. So, thank god for Robert—never thought he’d be saying that, but on this day only, thank god for his cheap, dumbass tricks, and Joel’s dumbass for agreeing to trade with him, and being ripped off again, because that’s how you met.

Being the coward he is, Robert had sent a third party to meet with you and him—apparently buying the same product—that somehow thought you wouldn’t check the goods, and then you spent the whole day together hunting that fucker down. You were the one who threw the first punch once you found him, and Joel liked that because he didn’t feel bad for hitting him, too. And then you got your ration cards back, and you came home with him.

In just those few hours, a bond had formed, and all those days he’d spent looking for you fell away. Cliches were clicking in his head. He offered you his smuggled jungle juice and somewhere to clean off your bloody fist.

Now, you’re here in his apartment, the door swinging softly shut behind you. Joel stands frozen across the room from you, a knee sticking out, unsure if you can feel the rope of tension between you or if it’s just him. He wants you here and it makes him uncomfortable. Mind blank and swimming at the same time, he’s not sure what to say. When he does, he can’t find the correct conduct, weakly and awkwardly jutting his chin out in a sort of nod. Finding himself unable to speak softly, his cadence is a mess that rolls through almost incoherently. He can’t believe how silly the sentence that came out of him is:

“Have you been lookin’ for me as hard as I’ve been lookin’ for you?”

You shift your weight. “Maybe.”

Joel barely ever has company. To be frank, the few times he’s had women over, it’s been for sex, and the longest they stay is if they fall asleep, and they’re almost always up and gone before he wakes. So, here is a beautiful woman in his apartment, and he wants you, so his first instinct is to get you in bed. That doesn’t feel right though—not because he doesn’t want to fuck you, but because he wants more than that. He doesn’t want a one night stand. He wants to savor you. He wants to know you. He wants you to stay.

The unfamiliarity and lack of clarity of what to do here frightens him.

“So you got a rag I can stain?” You break the silence for him, holding your hand to massage your palm with your thumb.

“Yeah, uh,” Joel walks into the kitchen, flicking his eyes around. He knows what rag you can use but he forgot that it might be too embarrassing to bring out. There are not many options though, he can’t let you use the one clean rag he does have.

“If you can’t find one it’s alright, I can use my shirt, I just need the sink.”

Joel turns to you, taken off guard, but catches telling details when he looks you up and down. Your jeans are dark so you can’t immediately see that there are brown stains around the ripped knees, and lines of more old blood are swiped over the side of your thigh, which he knows come from wiping off a blade. Realizing that you do in fact live in the same world as him, Joel opens a crooked drawer and pulls out a rag that used to be white but is now mostly brown with dried blood. Without looking at you, he wets the somewhat stiff cloth in the sink and hands it to you.

You barely pause, taking it casually. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He mumbles, hiking up his jeans and trying to covertly watch you wipe away at your hand. A large part of him wants to take your hand in his, wipe and dab at it himself, make sure it’s clean, and then bandage it, slowly and carefully. He wants to take care of you, show you gentleness and kindness, but, no matter how much he wants to be soft and personal, to connect, he seems unable to actually act on it. His face flashes in self depreciation before he instead goes to the floorboards in his bedroom, fishing around for that drink he promised you.

A smile spreads over your face as he emerges back with the bottle and Joel almost stops dead in his tracks at it, at him, because of him. Well, because of alcohol, but he was the one providing it, at least.

He trades you the bottle for the rag and you waterfall it while he scrubs drying blood from between his fingers. Your face twists up as you swallow and you laugh.

While he watches yours, Joel can feel his lip curling up and he asks, “What’s that for?”

“This shit is pure. I’m used to it being watered down.”

“Oh, yeah. Got that from Robert, actually.” He tells you, motioning towards it. “One of the only times he’s been useful.”

“What are the other times?” You stay smiling.

Joel mindlessly circles the rough cloth over top his hand and looks down when he answers, “Well, today.” Because he brought me to you. These half–admittances are escapees, like his brain can’t help but be truthful with you. No matter how much one side screams ‘danger’ at the other, he needs to do something to make an attachment, he needs you to know that he wants you around, he can’t let you slip away. He can’t get himself to say that last part, though.

You hum and hold the bottle out to him. He swipes the rag over his hand one last time, then tosses it onto the table and takes the bottle, wishing you’d let your lips around it so he could get a taste of you without taking any risks.

Risks. What is he willing to do for this? For this feeling? How far is he willing to be taken with it? He can barely grasp the ideas behind it. It’s familiar, but what is it? How much does he care about its definition? He swigs.

“Have you traded with Robert a lot?”

Joel nods as he swallows with a grimace, then elaborates, “You could say that. More like been ripped off by ‘im a lot.”

“So you’re a chump?” You smirk.

Joel halfheartedly glares at you and you only smirk further. “No. Just desperate. Not a lot of options.” He passes the bottle.

“So you’re the kind of guy who takes what he can get.” You say before raising it, to your lips now.

He almost chuckles, watching your mouth, “I didn’ take shit, remember?”

You shrug and hand him back the bottle. “So what are you gonna do with all those ration cards now?”

Joel focuses on being able to tell what of what he’s tasting is the alcohol and what is you. He licks his lips after he swallows. “Don’t know yet… What’re you gonna do?”

“I was thinking about buying a really expensive coat. Like a mink's fur coat.” Joel gives you a look like he’s not completely sure if you’re being serious or not. “I’m kidding. I’m getting fucking food. I’ve been skipping a meal a day for the last two weeks saving up for what we didn’t get.”

As he hands you the bottle again, the thought of that pangs Joel’s chest. If you stay with me, you’ll never have to do that again. I can provide for you. “I have food.”

You stare at him as you lift the bottle to your lips, and after you swallow, say “I’m not asking for your food.” Your face is straight and voice bristled.

“No, I know,” Joel stammers, “I was just offerin’—”

“I don’t want your food.” You shove the bottle at his chest and cross your arms once he takes it, leaning back a foot.

An offer like that is no longer simple friendliness, but Joel didn’t think about that before he spoke. Intentions mean less than jack shit and social rules are more like laws to live by these days; you probably think he’s trying to bargain for sex. “I’m sorry,” Joel closes his eyes and shakes his head, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, ok, well, thanks for the drink, I’ll see you around.”

“No, wait, I’m sorry,” he reaches out for your arm, and even though he lets go as soon as he closes his hand around it, it’s enough to scare you away entirely and you rush out of his apartment without looking back, slamming the door shut behind you. He jerks it right back open, holding himself in the doorway with another “Wait,” as he watches you barrel down the hallway and disappear down the stairs. “Fuck.” He whispers. Joel retreats back into his apartment and slams the door behind him, stopping just inside to rub his hand over his forehead. It’s a fair reaction on your part, he just happened to be the 1% of people to make a move like that not intending to harm you.

This is the exact opposite of what he was going for. His hand slaps to his side as he lets it fall.

As Joel’s eyes wander over the table, he catches something in his peripheral, and spots two ration cards. They’re not his, they must have fallen out of your pocket.

Like a shot, Joel snatches them up and is out the door, bounding down the steps and throwing himself out through the front door. He skids to a stop just outside, turning left and right until he spots you still making haste away from his place. “Wait!” He calls out again as he weaves through the street toward you. When you stop and turn to him his hand shoots up, showing you the cards.

You shoot daggers and as soon as he’s in front of you, bark, “I’m not a fucking prostitute. I’m not gonna fuck you for food.”

“No, no, count your cards, these aren’t mine, they’re yours. I swear.”

Still glaring, you pull the stack out of your back pocket and flip through them. When you finish, you bite the inside of your cheek, shove them into your pants instead of your pocket, and hold your hand out for your missing two. You’re staring him straight in the eyes as he hands them over and you add them to the rest, and then your expression softens. Joel takes this opportunity to try to have you give him another chance.

“I swear, I didn’t mean any a that like that. I know how it sounded, I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m not lookin’ for anythin’ like that. I swear.”

You chew on your lip for a moment. “Okay. Fine.” You blink and pull at your waistband.

Joel takes a deep breath, but his relief is short lived. Shit. Now what? I can’t ask her to ‘come back to my place’, and if I ask to walk her home she’ll probably think the same fucking thing. Joel is not used to trying to gain someone's trust. What would convince him? No answer comes.

Gravel shifts under your foot as you turn more towards him, resting a hand on your hip and cocking your head. Suddenly, Joel feels pressure under your gaze and readjusts his posture, straightening, but struggles with his gaze. The interaction is one of assessing dominance—more of you checking his. Joel grinds his jaw with his eyes focused down on the hand on your hip. This goes against instinct, which would be to puff out his chest, cross his arms, raise his chain to glare down his nose. He is not afraid of you, you’re not trying to threaten him, and he understands what you’re doing and that he needs to convey a level of submitance; he owes it to you now that he’s made you suspect he’s trying to manipulate you into sex. His throat bobs as he swallows his pride, then shifts his eyes back up to yours. When you relax, he lets out a breath and follows.

“Okay, look,” you begin, “I’m not helpless just because I’m a woman, I can carry my fucking own, you should know that by now, but… I know Robert’s got guys, and I am aware of the risk of being a woman, and I also respect the buddy system. So, walk with me?” It’s your turn to struggle with your gaze, flipping your eyes between his and the ground.

A confetti cannon goes off in Joel’s head. “Alright.” He nods.

“Alright.” You nod back, take a step backwards, then turn back to where you were heading originally. The two of you fall into an even stride, silently focusing on your death stares as you journey through the loud, filthy, reeking streets of the Boston QZ. Joel thinks he spots a couple suspicious characters as you walk and is grateful that he came after you and that you let him walk you home.

The sky’s blue is beginning to darken and the crowds are dwindling. Curfew is fast approaching, but Joel doesn’t want to ask you how much further, because, for one, he doesn’t want there to be a whiff of doubt that he’s no less than happy to be doing this, and, if it does get to be too late, maybe you’ll let him spend the night. It’s unlikely that you’ll be having sex, but that’s fine; he guesses you’re right, he is the kind of guy who will take what he can get.

“Okay, you’re free to go.” You snap Joel out of his thoughts, pulling out a bit of disappointment that you’re already here. Your building is short and wide, with graffiti littering the bottom and most of the low windows boarded up or taped over with rustling plastic. A burly and sunburnt young man smokes a daring cigarette on the steps and you exchange amicable nods with him.

Joel pauses, looking around and hiking up his pants trivially. The lack of promise that he’ll ever be able to speak to you again stirs anxiety in him and he searches again for the right thing to say. “Alright, well, it was nice to meet you.” He struggles again with some kind of cordial inflection, nodding and clearing his throat.

“You, too. I’ll see you around.” You nod back, then add a reassuring “Okay?”

Joel nods again, staying to watch you go. Once you’re out of sight, he takes a deep breath. The man on the steps spits and eyes Joel, so he leaves, hustling back to make it before curfew.

Back in his apartment, Joel returns the alcohol back under the floor and his bloody towel into its drawer. He strips his flannel, removes his boots, and lays back on his bed, the setting sun casting a sheet of orange over his body. Pulling his pillow under his head and folding his arms behind it, Joel sighs loudly and shuts his eyes. Today was fucking exhausting, more for his mind than body. It has been the strangest day he’s had in a long time. Laying with his eyes closed, Joel picks through his mind for explanations and answers. What’s happening inside of him? What is he looking for? What happened today? His brow pinches as he wracks and wracks.

Friend. When the word surfaces it breaks with panic and Joel jolts into a sitting position. Girl–friend. He forgot that that’s even a word. He rubs his face with his hand until he feels like he knows where he is again. What the fuck going on with him? Does he think, what, that he’s gonna take you on a ‘date’? And go where exactly? One of those slimy speakeasies, stay for five minutes until a fight breaks out and/or FEDRA fucking crashes it? Oh, yeah, how about spending the night sitting in opposite cells? That would allow for a lot of alone time, except for the fully armed and immoral guard. He could take you out past the walls, maybe find an abandoned restaurant and hope neither of you get bit or killed while checking it out so that you can sit down on dust caked chairs to clink glasses full of dirt.

That shit isn’t possible. Joel lets himself fall back into the mattress.

Maybe a quick fuck will do the trick after all.

But, still with that thought comes a gust of dread as he imagines then seeing you out on the street in the days following and having to avoid eye contact. Well what if you could just keep having sex? And just, hang out, you know, maybe if you could… come to live with him and then that way—fuck. That’s like dating.

‘Dating’ sounds so stupid, like you’re going to go sit at a diner sipping the same milkshake with two straws.

Well what if you’re just as fucked up and broken as he is? Would that make it any better? Then he wouldn’t scare you if he gets night terrors because you get them, too, and you’d understand about the violence and bloodshed. Thinking more on it, though, Joel realizes that all that that would really mean is that you probably have the same amount of fucking issues with ‘friends’.

“Shit.”

Joel flips to his side, shoving his arm under the pillow again to press his face into it. He’s lost, and fucked. Maybe the answer will come to him in the morning. Probably not, but he’s fucking tired, so let’s just say it will.

—

The morning brings no answers, only more confusion and anxiety. His head has become jumbled in the night and Joel’s not sure about any of it anymore.

Too close. He doesn’t even know you. You could be one of Robert’s guys, for all he knows. No, that makes no sense. If you were going to rob him you would have already. What else could you want? Jesus, did you drug him? He knows the truth, that he has feelings for you, he just really does not want that to be the case.

But, at the same time, there is the brown haired puppy dog that still lives in him, dreaming up how to get you flowers and how much he likes your hair and your eyes and how you talk. You’re a beautiful person, both in the surface level, physical sense, but also as an individual being. Even though you’ve only known each other for a day, he has seen enough to understand that you are, at least to a level, a safe person. Tulips, he needs to find tulips for you.

Either way, he just needs to find a way to slow this all the fuck down.

He shouldn’t get involved with you. You shouldn't get involved with him. He shouldn't trust you. You don't know who he is. He could change for you. You’re gonna get him killed. He’s gonna get you killed. The life he wants with you isn’t possible. He’s the kinda guy who will take what he can get. God, he needs to fuck you at least. Goddamnit, he doesn't want you to think that's all you are to him. Can’t you at least just be friends? What does that even mean? He wishes he never met you. He immediately takes that back. Why is this happening to him? Both sides of him can dig that last one.

Joel groans and rubs his face with his hands. He stands, stretching his arms up and squeezing his eyes shut against the bright yellow morning light. His arms drop down to scratch at his chest over his sleeveless undershirt. Socked feet sweep over the hardwood floor over to the kitchen where he slaps cold water from the tap onto his face. Noticing wisps of blood still on his hands, he scrubs at them with his nails under the water. He forgot to sign up for any work today because he spent all day yesterday dealing with Robert, and… hanging out with you.

With another whiney groan, Joel swats the faucet’s handle off and plants his hands on either side of the sink, letting water drip from his nose as he stares into the drain. Hanging out? People do that. He’s seen people just kind of sit around somewhere and talk, not doing deals, but, like, on their porches, sitting on side by side folding chairs. Yeah, people hang out. He imagines himself asking you if you want to ‘hang out’; he’s chewing gum with sunglasses and a backwards hat on, you’re in pigtails and reject him and he kicks rocks on his way home.

He has had friends before, but it was from traveling in a group, trying to survive, when you kind of have to spend all your time together. There’s little choice and little room to decide if you actually like this person, little time to even actually get to know them, and they die a lot. That’s what he’s used to, and that is not what he wants with you.

“The fuck am I doin’.” Joel mutters to himself, watching trails of water shine as they trickle down towards the drain.

Soft, fully brown haired Joel swings his legs on one of his shoulders: “Go out n’ see if she’s around.”

Baggy–eyed, forever frowning Joel digs his fingers into his other shoulder: “If you ever see her again, you better walk the other fuckin’ direction.”

Puppy dog Joel furrows his brow and leans over to look at the other: “She’s a nice girl.”

Morose Joel glares back: “No such fuckin’ thing. An’ if she is, we’ll fuckin’ ruin ‘er.”

“Jesus. You’re paranoid. Can’t you just let us be happy?”

“No such fuckin’ thing.”

Joel smacks his hand to his forehead and pushes away from the sink. He lifts the bottom of his white shirt to rub his face dry and goes to sit back down on his bed to pull on his shoes, grabbing his other flannel and finishing buttoning it as he walks down the hall to exit his apartment building. He’s not sure what he’s doing—not admitting that he’s going to end up heading in the direction of your apartment—but he needs to get out of his head, and the QZ offers plenty of distractions. Here’s one now, as soon as he steps outside—

“Hey friend,”

Joel whips around to the voice at the corner of his building, a man his size but wiry, with saddle brown skin and an overly genial smile.

“You look lost.”

Joel narrows his eyes.

“Well, if you’re feelin’ lost—”

“Give me a fuckin’ break.” Joel cuts in. “That shit is meaningless. Hope is dead, jackass.”

The man’s face instantly falls, disheartened, and he leans his shoulder against the brick. Joel huffs and moves on, shaking his head. That look makes a small part of him remorseful, like a thorn in his side, so he decides to stop at a speakeasy.

He has to squint against the rising sun as he walks, so he doesn’t catch you until you’re right on him, asking, “Where’re you headed?”

Joel freezes, placing his hand on his brow to shade his eyes to see you smiling. Like remedied, all that anxiety and apprehension rolls off of him like water off a duck's back. “For a drink.” He answers, returning a serene smile.

“Don’t you have that at home?”

“Yeah, well I jus’… wanted to get outta there.” He shifts out of the suns glare.

You hum and nod. “I get that. What about my place? I don’t have alcohol, but I do have a cigar.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. “A cigar?”

You nod. “Well they didn’t have any mink coats, so I got the second best thing.” Your mouth twists up into a mischievous smile and you swivel your torso back and forth. When Joel’s lips start to curl, you turn, watching him over your shoulder as you walk until he joins you.

When the two of you get to your apartment, the young burly man is still on the steps; he winks at Joel as he follows you past, and Joel stares back until the door shuts behind him. Inside, as he follows you up the narrow, winding staircase, he spends the entire five-flight journey to the top floor conflicted about where to let his gaze fall.

“Alright, this is my floor.” You glance over your shoulder at him then grab the door frame to swing into the tight hallway. “End of the hall.”

Your apartment is much smaller than his, and wide. Cracked, off white paint cries uneven, chipped stripes that reach up to the crown molding. Your bedroom is to the immediate right, a narrow room opened by two glass double doors. At the opposite end is another glass door, tall, that opens up to a fire escape. To his left is your kitchen, which is just the wall lined with cupboards, a sink, and white refrigerator. In front of him, a couch is half visible, the rest hidden behind the corner, under a row of three windows. Like his, the curtains are thin torn pieces of fabric. Just before the corner next to the entrance to your bedroom is a gray folding table with three tan metal folding chairs. Walking in, Joel can see in your room a twin bed with rosy sheets and no headboard, its head shoved in the space between the tall glass door and the wall with a thin pillow and singular white sheet. He hopes you have a bunch of other blankets shoved somewhere he can’t see, because it’s only barely summer anymore. The long wall opposite is taken up mostly by bookcases, which hold some books but mostly by all sorts of other things, including clothes. A ragged chair sits next to it, back facing him. Shoved in between the shelves and the tall glass door is a tall lamp, a thin piece of pink fabric laying over a disfigured shade. The carpet is worn and somewhat cluttered; right next to that chair is a pair of lacy black underwear. Joel rips his eyes away from it back to you in front of him, disappearing around the corner for only a moment before reappearing with a fat, half smoked cigar. You twist it in your fingers with a wide smile, flipping open a Zippo lighter in your other hand.

“How did you get that?” Joel asks, astonished. He hasn’t seen a cigar in years but has dreamt about smoking one more than once.

“My friend on the steps outside. Don’t tell anyone, though. Come on,” you nod your head back around the corner and he follows you into a cramped, mellow blue and yellow tiled bathroom. You push out a small broken crank window high up on the wall, pull the door shut behind Joel, and light up the cigar. Leaned against the sink, Joel watches you, very aware of the close quarters. The end of the cigar lights up deep orange and crackles. Your brow is furrowed, Joel can see the hairs of your eyebrows and lashes, a tiny scar in the corner of your eye over the bone of your eye socket. When you pull away, dense smoke snakes out of your mouth. You look down at it as you attempt smoke rings, getting one good one but failing at the rest. When you laugh the rest of the gray puffs out of your mouth.

“Damn it.” you giggle, and hand the cigar and lighter to Joel.

He has to relight it and watches the flame over the end. He sucks in stale, earthy smog; it tastes ancient, but still has some of that discernable cigar flavor. As it fills his mouth, Joel closes his eyes, leans his head back and moans before opening his mouth to let the smoke leave. His eyes are on you as they open, and yours are half lidded, focused on his mouth, a slight smile on your lips. They slowly crawl back up to his eyes, and you look away. Joel takes another puff and makes a sound to get your attention, attempting rings as well, not doing much better than you did.

You hold your hands out, “Ok, let me try again.” You take your time and Joel watches your tongue working in awe. You make a good three rings. Smoke puffs out of your mouth again when you smile at him and pass the cigar back.

Joel focuses his efforts on the rings but keeps his eyes on you watching his mouth. As you do, your smile grows, eyes half lidded again, and you lean your back against the window’s wall, turning your head to see him blow four perfect rings.

“You’re good at that.” You chuckle, staying on his mouth even after he’s done. He takes another puff.

“Practice, I guess. Even though it’s been awhile.”

You hum and finally tear your eyes away from his mouth. He offers the cigar but you shake your head, “That thing is nasty, I’m afraid I’ll throw up if I take one more puff. You can keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. All yours.”

“Thanks.”

“I got it with you in mind, anyway.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You look like a cigar guy.”

“Well, what did I do to deserve this?”

Your eyes go back to his mouth. “Nothing, I guess… I knew it’d get you over here.” You look down and smile.

Joel sucks in murky smoke, letting it fill his mouth, and wonders how you taste. He’s never wanted someone's saliva in his mouth so much. He reaches behind him to balance the cigar on your sink to let it extinguish on its own. “I won’t make you watch me smoke that whole thing. I’ll take it home with me.” Turning back, he looks you up and down, admiring you, and says, “Thank you.” Those are another set of words that Joel cringes at, but he means it, and he needs you to know that he is grateful for this. The last gift he got was a box of bullets from Tommy on his birthday—not to say that’s a bad gift, or that he’s ever expecting anything on his birthday, but, you gave him a gift, just because, and it’s a luxury. He can’t believe you’re real, he wants to reach out and touch you just to be sure.

“Mhm.” You smile, lifting your fist to rest your lip on, laying your other arm over your torso to support your elbow. Joel drifts over the details—the edge of your lip poking out from where it presses on a finger, the muscle and bone structure of your wrist. He fully appreciates the color of your skin as he follows it until its end at what he can see of your collar, how your chest shapes around the position of your arms. He sees you briefly squeeze your arm around yourself and his eyes are on your hips when he hears your foot shift under you and your body moves a little closer to him.

“Joel?” Your quiet voice brings him back, and you’re blushing.

“Hm?”

Your eyes flutter and you push yourself off from the wall, moving your hand to scratch the back of your head, then face him, though still not looking at him, “Nothing, um, I dunno,” you chuckle nervously.

“What?” He coaxes, growing a light smile.

You finally look at him, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your head as you ask, “Do you have anything going on today?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Could this be what he thinks? Are you asking him to ‘hang out’?

“Do you wanna… hang out?”

Good lord in heaven, you are.

“Yeah.” He says, then blinks, shifts, and repeats more enthusiastically, “Yeah.”

“Cool.” You offer a small, twitching smile. “Well, we can get out of this tiny bathroom.”

“I don’t mind it.” The truth suddenly jumps out of Joel and as soon as it’s out, he looks at his feet. Please, please, please, don’t let this be him ruining it, again, because second chances are basically extinct.

“Why not?” Your tone is light, not angry or affronted. He looks back up, pausing to consider you, how beautiful you are, how much he really does enjoy being this close to you. The more he realizes how few inches are separating you, the more he aches for your body on his. He swallows hard. Is he being sleazy?

You shift closer and his heart rate picks up. “I mean, I don’t really mind it either.” A light blush blooms over your face and Joel’s lips inadvertently part. When you move closer still, Joel straightens up from the sink, letting his hands rest at his sides, hoping you want them on your hips. “I like being close to you.”

“I wanna be closer.” Joel tells you quietly, then swallows hard again.

Out of the corner of his eye, while he focuses on your face, Joel sees your hand rising cautiously, then feels it rest on his shoulder. He permits his hands to your hips.

From there, naturally and easily, you connect. Your lips touch softly when they meet, then promptly conquering more of each other’s, and finally he tastes you, a pure elixir, and hangs onto your lip with his teeth so that he can raise the dose. Joel breathes deeply through his nose as he savors and his hand brushes up your hip, catching under your shirt and pulling it up slowly with it; feeling your skin warm and bare under his touch shoots directly into his veins. You remove your mouth from his to instead purr into his neck and Joel moans, then adds quietly, “Jesus.” You chuckle before refocusing your lips, gently nipping at and skimming over his skin. His hand glides up to the back of your head and he softly moans again. Lazily, Joel allows you to start slowly unbuttoning his flannel, appreciating his contact with your body and your sensitive touch on his neck. The only way he knows he’s not dreaming is because of your pinching teeth. Once his flannel is undone you smooth your hands down the length of his torso, fingers slipping off of him just before his belt, then come back up, slowing on his shoulders for permission to slip the shirt. Joel takes his hands off of you for the three seconds it takes to pull his flannel off, feeling your hot breath on his neck as you pull away with his shifting. Your eyes meet again and Joel’s heart flutters at how large your pupils are. He watches them move down to cross over his shoulders, your hands following your eyes, and then you look back up at him and bite your lip. Like you’ve flicked a switch with this simple movement, Joel takes your mouth with his tongue and grabs your hips to pull against his. Briefly, he regains composure to check, “Is this ok?” and you confirm with a nod back into his lips, slinging your arms around his neck and rolling your hips. “That a girl,” it escapes him, scaring him for only a moment, but you whine an encouraging moan and press yourself into him. The force leans Joel back over the sink and he has to throw a hand back onto it to keep himself steady.

“Shit, ok, this room is too small now.” You chuckle into each other’s lips and then you pull away, keeping a grip on his hand as you turn the knob and take him around the corner into your room.

Standing just before your bed, you turn back to him and take his face in your hands, sliding your palms over his beard, fingertips on rough skin. They slip into his hair as you bring his face to yours, working back in your welcome tongue. His hands slither around you and then he squeezes you into a hug, relieving his ache for your body, relishing in the pressure of his hold. As you breathe out your head falls back and Joel moves in, licking into a hickey, too absorbed to give a shit about leaving marks. When a hand travels down to your ass and squeezes, you make a sound and hitch your body up.

“You like that?” Joel purrs, fully loose lipped and glued back on yours. When you ‘mhm’ into his mouth he squeezes again, hiking you up himself.

“Joel,” his lips force you to mumble.

“What is it, babygirl?”

All you do is whine, but your answer is in the hand that slides between your bodies to cup the stiff bulge between his legs.

“You want me to fuck you?” He basically growls, sliding the hand up from your ass to grip your side and the other up to your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek and forcing you to meet his eyes. There’s a desperate tweak in your brow that tells him all he needs to know but he waits for you to say it.

“Yes,” you whimper, and then he walks you back onto your bed, the two of you falling onto it with little pause with mouths and hands. Messily, he licks and nibbles at your lips and paws at your chest. Your hands spread over his thick, bare shoulders and biceps, legs shamelessly widening more than they need to under his hips, then hook and pull when he doesn’t bring them down himself.

“You’re fuckin’ horny, huh?” He asks with a slight smirk.

“I just want you. I just want you.” You mumble.

Joel’s brow twists up and he kisses you deeper. You want him, you want him, you want him. “I want you so much, baby. God, I need you. I’ve been wantn’ you so bad since the first time I saw you,” the words are doing nothing more than spilling out of him, but he’s gone now, “so beautiful, such a beautiful girl. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, tugging his shirt up his back.

Joel pushes himself up to stand on his knees and pull his undershirt up and off, then stays over you, panting. Slowly, mindfully, his hands smooth up your body, hooking his thumbs under your shirt, lifting it. You watch his eyes and lift your arms when his hands ask. He slips your shirt off carefully and lets it fall on the floor, and then you’re bare underneath him. The adoration is palpable in his touch as he smooths his calloused hands from the V of your waist over your belly, splitting to slide over your sides but meeting again on your chest. He pets your breasts, teasing your nipples with fleeting touch, and then suddenly dips his body down to lick and tenderly nip one of your nipples. Then his wet lips drag up your collar, your neck, and back to your lips, and his mouth and tongue are gentle but passionate. Joel cherishes every touch you share. Then, your hands go back down to the bulge under his jeans, one rubbing over the cup while the other tugs at his belt. He chuckles into your lips and then rises again to undo his belt. When you try to tug down your pants you both understand the trouble and Joel hoists his legs over you to stand beside the bed, letting you up with him so that you can both undress as quickly and easily as possible. For a moment all there is is the sound of belts clicking and fabric brushing against skin. For whatever reason, you both start to laugh breathily until reattaching mouths smother it out. You fall back on the bed, your legs back open, and Joel wastes little time getting his hands on his dick, unable to help himself from a few strokes before he positions himself at your entrance, swiping his tip up and down your wet slit. Laying his forearm on the bed allows him to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

Nearly slurring, Joel asks, “You ready for me baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I want you, Joel, please,”

“You don’t need to beg, sweetheart, I gothcu,” he kisses you tenderly, but it breaks as he fills you and you both moan. Joel’s forehead rests briefly on your lips when he looks down to watch himself pushing into you, his fingers pinching his base to guide himself, he prizes this picture of him in between your legs, opened wide for him. As he fits his large, stiff member inside of you your fingers comb through and then grip his hair, making him moan. “Goddamnit baby, what a good girl, takin’ me like this. I know it’s a lot. I know.” He assures you as you squeal, toes curling as he plugs you up. Joel swings his head back up, biting his lip as he watches your face, impressed with himself when he sees your pupils almost disappear back into your head. He nips at your lips but your mouth stays open until he stills his cock inside of you.

You groan, “Oh my god, Joel,”

“Yeah?” He mumbles as he begins to move. You clench around him when you moan and he swears, moving his head down to bite your neck gently as he continues to take himself in and out. He smiles when your hands claw at his back and release his teeth to speak, “Such a good girl for takin’ me like this. You’re a fuckin’ angel.”

“Ok, Joel, I’m good, I’m good, please fuck me,”

Joel growls and links his teeth on your lip again. “Told you darlin’, no need to beg, I’ll give you what you need. How do you want it? You want it hard?”

“I don’t fucking care just fuck me,”

Jesus, if heaven’s real this is what it’ll be.

Joel trusts your word and starts to fuck you how he wants—deep and hard, pounding your pussy in final satisfaction of the need he’s been pinned with since the moment he saw you. The room is full with the sounds of your moans and skin on skin.

“God, look atchu, pretty girl, god, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight for me.” The sensation of him bumping your cervix and your cunt enveloping him fully is keeping him going like he’s a quarter operated ride that someone slipped fifty cents into. “That feel good, baby? Huh? Does that feel good?” You slap your hand onto the wall above you to keep your head from hitting it with the force of Joel’s thrust and repeatedly breathe out yeses. Joel groans at how your nails dig into his shoulder. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels,”

“Yes, Joel, it feels so good, you fuck me so good,”

“That’s righ’, baby. Gonna treat you so good. So good. So good baby you feel so good.” Joel leans his head back as bottoms out. When you almost scream, Joel stops, frightened, “Shit, you ok?”

“I’m fine Joel,” you laugh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It was—it was good, that felt really good.”

“Oh, alright, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“No, no, I’m fine, Joel it’s good,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, fuck—ok—” you push Joel up and his heartbeat quickens with anxiety. Unsure, he simply follows your movements, climbing off of you, letting you tug his arm and flopping back on the bed for you to mount him.

Now sitting up on your knees on top of him, you study him. “You’re so fucking hot, pretty boy.”

A wide smile spreads over Joel’s face, pumping rosy cheeks, and he throws an arm over his eyes modestly. The reaction is spontaneous, Joel being unprepared for such praise.

“You are!” You giggle, moving his arm and dropping on your elbows to kiss him. One of his hands goes to your hair and he squeezes your hip with the other with eager grip. You rise back up, a line of spit briefly linking you, and your hand trails down over his chest until it comes to his cock, bulging over his stomach. He twitches and breathes out as your hand slides over it and he beholds you above him.

“Fuck,” you purr when you slip him in. Joel strains his arms down to grip your thighs, breathing out a loud moan. “Shit.”

“Goddamn,” he whispers, then says, “come on, baby, take all of it.” You sit down on him slowly, hands landing over his chest, and he brushes his hands up and down your arms. “Thas’ righ’ baby. So good for me.” Joel moves to your hips, pulling them down and in to start to move inside you, forcing himself to be gentle. Your head flips back as you let out a loud, pornographic moan, and Joel can no longer keep himself reigned in. Gripping your hips, he’s now moving them more than you are, one hand gripping your ass, guiding you to angle down, taking more of him.

Riding him like a mustang, your fingers skim over his wrists, unable to grasp them. “Fuck,” You whimper, brow twisted up, eyes closed.

Joel takes his hand off of your ass to grab your face, squishing your cheeks, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” You moan and obey, he keeps your face in his hand to make sure you stay. “Good girl. Stay with me baby.” He grunts and briefly bits his lips as he begins moving his hips up into you, thrusting his cock even deeper inside of you until he’s bumping your cervix again. You squeak and close your eyes, leaning your head back until he jerks your face, reminding you softly, “Eyes on me.” Your hand slaps on his chest as you adjust your posture, though Joel’s grip stabilizes you enough, holding you in place. He releases your cheeks but keeps his hand on your face, letting his palm and fingers brush over the side of your head as you bounce, his thumb on the back of your neck, supporting your head up when you try to let it fall back. “You’re so beautiful. Bet you look so pretty when you cum.”

“My god, Joel,” you pant, “I knew you would fuck me so good, you’re gonna make me cum,”

Joel’s eyes light up and he inadvertently smirks, “Yeah?” Eagerly, he tells you, “I wanna make you cum, baby, I wanna feel you fuckin’ cum. You’re bein’ such a good girl lettin’ me fuck you so hard like this. God, I wanna make you cum,” His hips bump up into you and he tugs on yours in a tempo that buries him as far as he’ll go inside of you. Prizing his view, Joel notices a bulge, coming and going at a suspiciously similar rhythm as how he’s fucking you, and when he realizes that it’s him, heat spreads through his chest and he only fucks you harder. “Oooooh, baby,” he looks back up at you and your chest and face are flushed. “My angel, look at you. Go ahead and cum on my cock, babygirl, I know you’re ready to.”

Your pipe out desperate moans as you bounce on his cock and your hands shoot up, one twisting your hair behind your head the other on your face, smoothing down over your face and mouth down to massage your breast.

“Does that feel good baby?” He almost whines out the question, desperate for praise, for affirmation that he’s being good for you.

“Yes, god, fuck me Joel, I need you, oh my god please,” you cry out.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum on my cock like a good girl?”

You close your mouth, whining through sealed lips, then pop them back open to moan almost unrealistically pornographically, but the way your pussy squeezes him proves it unmistakably genuine.

“Ah, fuck,” Joel lets out loudly as your legs shake and tighten around him, just like your cunt does, and his thrusts are basically out of his control. His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, almost seeing white, a sweet taste filling his mouth as the euphoric pleasure you provide him trembles to a peak and he groans as he cums in a pussy–drunk frenzy.

As he comes out of it embarrassment starts to run over him at his gusto, but the look on your face calms it—your brow is furrowed up, eyes closed with your mouth slack like his. Your back is arched with your hands resting on his thighs, panting.

You let out a loud breath and flip your body back to look at him, smiling, “Shit.” A breathy laugh shakes out of him and you sit back, still with him inside of you. Then you rise up off of him, “Oh, fuck,” you stand, almost tripping, “I gotta go clean myself up. I’ll be right back.”

Joel basks in the glory of your figure walking away, still fully nude, pattering through your apartment, then disappearing around the corner. He leans back, turning his head to view the sky from the dirty glass door. It’s a picturesque baby blue, dotted with a few puffy white clouds. Fuck the other shoe, if it drops it drops, he just wants to be here right now, with the sun warming his bare chest, nose full of your scent, his lips swollen and dick still wet with your cum. Joel takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s dramatic to say he’d be happy to die here, and it’s not entirely true, but it’s just that he feels content for the first time in fucking years.

When your padding steps sound again, Joel shifts his upper body up, watching you approach, and then you slip into bed, nudging him so that you can lay side by side facing each other. The top sheet is cast lazily over your bodies and a comfortable silence falls over it. Joel tries to memorize the details of your eyes and admires the way his mouth has plumped your lips.

Lying in bed with you here in this cramped apartment feels like a dugout, and he wants to go back in time, to any point over the last ten or so years, to tell himself that this is waiting there for him, just to let himself know that it’s gonna be ok. He can’t believe he’s still in Boston.

“Can we stay here for a while?” He asks you.

You nod, “We still have all day, pretty boy.” Joel smiles and you move to kiss him, long and light. He hooks your lip in his mouth, asking you nearer, and, without breaking the kiss, you lift yourself up, only your chest off of the bed, supporting your body up with your elbow. To hover over him, you reach your hand over to plant next to his head. Joel’s hands slither up your face to the back of your head, assuring your connection. All he wants is your lips.

“Baby,” He whispers, his voice high.

“Hm?”

“Nothin’. I dunno.”

You smile, peck another gentle kiss, and then lay back beside him. You shift closer to each other and your legs tangle.

After a couple of still moments, you take a deep breath and address him, worry in your voice, “Joel…”

“What is it?” His brow pinches in concern.

“I’m just worried… maybe I should have waited.” You say quietly, brow slightly furrowed as you gaze into his eyes, raising a loose fist to your lips.

He pushes his hand out to brush the back of his finger over your wrist, “Why’s that?”

You pause. “Cause… I don’t want… I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to have… you know, a one night stand. I mean, for this to be a one time thing and then I never see you again.”

Joel’s brow furrows as he assures you, “Me neither, no, no baby, I wanna see you again. I want you to stay. I wanna stay. I wanna know you.”

You uncover your mouth to smile and your eyes twinkle, “You want to know me?”

“Wull… yeah.”

“That’s such a nice thing to say.”

“I mean it.”

“Well, I wanna know you, too.”

Joel’s contentedness pauses. He didn’t think about that part and he’s not sure if he wants you to know him. Yes, desperately, god yes he does, but, no, his soul is covered in soot. You shouldn't, he doesn’t want you to see him, know him, because he’s bad.

“What’s that face?” You ask.

“What face?”

“That face you just made. You don’t want me to know you?”

How did you read him like that? He’s not sure which side he should take with this so he says nothing.

You sigh and blink, then place your hand on his cheek, stroking it with your thumb once. It’s warm and solid against his skin and flowers bloom in his chest.

“If I’m gonna let you know me, you gotta let me know you. That’s the deal. I think we’re pretty similar, Joel.” You take another deep breath, “I haven’t had someone in this bed with me in a long time. I haven’t touched someone like this in… forever. I don’t like to let people get this close. I’m letting you get close, though. Because I really, really want to. But part of me really, really, doesn’t. For some reason, I trust you. I hate saying that. But I just do. I really like you, Joel. Maybe you’re gonna break my heart. I decided that that’s ok. I just really want to know you.” Your hand slides down to his neck, over his shoulder, then down to the middle of his sternum. “So, that’s the deal. If I’m gonna let you in, you gotta let me in.”

Joel isn’t sure why there are tears wetting his eyes. He wasn’t ready to be spoken to like this, to be cared about. The longing to hear words like these has long been buried and he never expected any of that to be fulfilled. He blinks the tears back, swallows hard, and murmurs a tender “Ok.”

Your hand slides back up to caress his cheek. The affection in it floods him and he melts into the bed, eyes falling closed. When he opens them again, it’s like this is all there is; he can’t see anything else except for you, and those pink sheets, and the light behind you coming through the window.

He can’t help this feeling of safety with you. He smiles. You smile back.

You can’t make Boston any better, but now, Joel is taking his first clean breath of air, and it smells like you. The world is ugly, but love makes it bearable. And now you’re here, and he’ll wait to tell you, but he figured it out, he’s sure he loves you.

…Metaphors and sex, sex and metaphors.

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arimuruhasscc · 9 days

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「arimuruha」 April single eyeshadow #2

So....as someone who owns over 100+ palettes and loves eye makeup, I decided to start doing this: I recreate my own look and turn it into cc. Most of them won't be very creative or anything, just my personal make ups. And I will name the pallets that were used for a specific release just for fun. For example, for this I used mattes from the Blood Sugar from Jeffree Star + glitter from the Beatybay x Nikkie tutorial. I hope you enjoy the new format of my content! I'm really trying to be more consistency with my content and hope this will help me get a little more attention and activity because they help me stay motivated. And ofcource I'll still do my eyeshadow collection with one pallet like I did before, escpecialy with these ones that I don't have for any reasons....or in irl they works diffrent than swatches or desings that don't work on my eyes Hope you gona like it and I will see you again very very soon~ Stay safe, love you and want to thank you all for your support! Big thanks to all creators which cc makes these looks look amazing.

HQ compatible, make up sliders compatible, base game compatible

teen, young adult, adult, elder

female and male

fully hand-drawn by me

You can see my other works here.

Please, follow simply t.o.u.: don’t Re-Upload, don’t Re-Edit, don’t convert to other games, don’t claim as your own, you can recolor it for personal use. And don’t forget to tag me if you use to make me happy ,з

Download: sfs / patreon / boosty

@public-ccfinds @sssvitlanz

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annieumi · 7 months

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baby: WAAAH!!!

SQQ: He's more disgusting than a fucking demon bastard.

OC: Hey! He is just a baby!

SY: WHY? WHY ME?? OF ALL THE PEOPLE ON THE PLANET!!!!!!!

// time skip

SQQ: I am here, A-Yuan. No one in this world will ever dare to touch you again. I will kill everyone. Everyone who even thinks of hurting you. I am by your side. You're safe. For the rest of your life. Please, listen to me, you dumb child. Don't dare to close your eyes!

~ I think about writing my own fanfiction based on this plot literally every day. Drawing small scenes from my head makes everything better. I hope to be able to finish it in the near future and upload it to ao3.

It looks like it's time to start drawing full scenes!!!

[ Вітаю! Процес створення нового світу розпочато! Запуск системи «Bruh вибачте за помилки я не знаю англійської а ще це просто мікро малюнок в інтернеті». Насолоджуйтесь! ]

Насправді я дуже хочу вперше за довгі роки почати писати щось романтичне і помірно довге. Я обожнюю троп де Шень Цінцьов та Шень Юань - це не одна і та сама особа. Якщо чесно, я впевнена в тому, що з появою когось маленького і дорогоцінного в житті мерзотника оригінальний сюжет піде до біса.

Який лиходій??? Який кривдник невинних????? У цього старого є ОДНА причина жити і ця причина прямо ЗАРАЗ намагається запхнути свою маленьку ручку в пащу довбаного ДЕМОНА. До біса знущання над Лво Бінхе.

(((((Якщо маленький бро звичайно не потягне свої рученята до А-Юаня)))))

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #sqq #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #bingyuan #shen qingqiu and shen yuan #oc #система власного порятунку для мерзотного лиходія #шень цінцьов #шень юань #український контент

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nottapossum · 3 months

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Hello! I really like your headcanons, especially Alastor, cutie :з. I have a few questions for you: What clothes does Alastor wear during regression? How does Rosie put Alastor to sleep during the regression? What if Husk was also a regressor and regressed from about 1 to 4 years old? How would he behave during a regression when he is worried about something (does not feel safe)? Who will be his guardian or nanny? Could there have been times when Alastor was so out of control that he didn't even listen to Rosie? If so, what would Rosie do? I really hope you notice me and respond, thanks in advance. ❤❤❤

He is a cutie! ❤️✨️

1) I made a whole post about this after your question was sent lol

But I'll answer anyway, Rosie makes him some little clothes! Here's the post in case you missed it ❤️

2) She starts at least 30 minutes before his actual bedtime because she knows it takes a while to convince him to listen and actually get some rest.

-She'll tell him brush his hair and teeth (when he's too young to do it himself, she'll help him)

-She gets him dressed in his night gown and bonnet.

-She'll then either read to him or sing to him after tucking him into his crib or bed. (Depending on where they are.)

-And she'll kiss him goodnight.

-Then she suspects he'll get out of bed anyway just to see if he can get away with it- (he can't) and she'll keep bringing him back to bed until he's actually asleep.

3) Husk does not regress in my au. But I'd assume Angel would offer to take care of him.

Also, his cat-self would take over, and he'd hiss and scratch anyone he felt was dangerous. And his fur would stick up as he growls and hides. (Cute lol)

4) Ooooo If Alastor doesn't listen to Rosie, she'll be very firm with him. He hates to disappoint her, so this is usually enough, but on particular days where he feels the need to act up or be bratty, she will give him a time out.

@todayimfour

#little!Alastor #cg!Rosie #ittybittysinners #ittybittysinnersq&h #hazbin hotel age regression #hazbin hotel agere #helluverse agere #helluverse age regression

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lale-txt · 2 years

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Raffle Prize: Riot w/ Whitebeard & gn!reader

a/n: 3rd raffle prize for my beloved @secretsnailor (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ Bee asked for a scenario where reader gets injured during a battle and Whitebeard just goes off with some comfort afterwards. my dear, it's always so much fun writing Whitebeard for you, thank you for the fun prompt and congrats again for being one of the lucky winners! ♡

contains: mention of blood (nothing super descriptive but reader suffers a hit on the head)

word count: 1k

It all happened within the blink of an eye.

You had let your guard down, irritated by someone calling out your name in the midst of the battle. Was it your imagination? Was it one of your comrades in need of help? It was impossible to figure out what was happening in the storm of voices and gunshots surrounding you, the sound of swords clashing ringing in your ears. In the corner of your eye you made out a kaleidoscope of blue and orange flames, and somewhere to your right you noticed Izou and Thatch standing back to back as they made the enemies drop like flies.

Panic rose in your chest when you couldn’t make out the broad silhouette of Whitebeard in the fray; you would have assumed that a man of his height would be easy to spot, but he had disappeared from your sight completely. Did something happen to him? Was it him who called out your name? You slashed at some foe who had the audacity to underestimate you and just when you were about to move forward, a sharp pain flashed through you with an intensity that drove you to your knees. The back of your head was throbbing, you felt dizzy, trying to understand what just happened.

You tried to breathe through the pain with gritted teeth, your vision blurry from the impact and blood dripping down your face. Leaving your back unguarded, what a foolish mistake. All because your heart had yearned for Edward, sorrow bubbling up in it and making you drop your guard before you could have convinced yourself that he was fine; he was the strongest after all. You whined as you reached for the open wound. Nothing Marco couldn’t fix, but until then you somehow had to make it out of here alive.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

A voice so low and threatening, a big hand scooping you up carefully. You feel warm skin against yours and don’t need to open your eyes to know that he was here now, that you were safe. Your fingers claw into his coat while you still try not to black out from the pain pulsating through every fiber of your body. You mumble out Edward’s name weakly, making him tense up, blind rage flaring up in his stomach – caused by seeing the love of his life hurt like that, by his own irresponsibility to leave you unguarded for a heartbeat, by the horde of bastards who were foolish enough to pick a fight with his family in the first place.

He’s gonna bring them down, one by one.

You feel Whitebeard’s grip around your waist tighten and hear him calling out for Marco, his voice roaring over the battlefield. His whole body vibrates under your fingertips and you can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins or if it’s his devil fruit ability, barely contained. He puts you down near some big rock, hidden away from the eyes of others by the tall grass surrounding it.

Your vision is still blurred and you can feel your consciousness slipping away slowly, but you don’t fight it – with Whitebeard’s big calloused hand brushing over your cheeks he reassures you that you’re safe now. A few heartbeats later and you make out Marco’s voice, the two men talking in hush voices, until you feel the soothing cold of the phoenix’ flames encasing you. You sigh from the instant pain relief.

“See? All patched up, yoi.” Marco rests a hand on top of your hand and turns toward Whitebeard. “What now, pops?” “I’m gonna put an end to this.”

You rest your still throbbing head against the rock, grateful for Marco’s healing powers, and rub your eyes, blinking away the blood and the dirt, enough to see Whitebeard’s broad back as he walks into the midst of the battlefield, one fist clenched around his naginata. The jolly roger tattoo is hit directly by the sun and once again you’re reminded of how deep his love and devotion runs – for his found family and for you.

The whole air seems electrified once he goes off, unleashing the incredible power he holds and teaching the foe a lesson on humility. You hear the cheerful cries of your crewmates as you lean back smiling, letting the rumbles of his devil fruit powers comfort you. Marco standing next to you whistles through his teeth and flies off once again after exchanging a smile and making sure that you’re okay, knowing well that a certain someone will come pick you up in a heartbeat anyway.

And so when a little later your favorite voice calls out your name, you open your eyes again and beam, reaching out for him to pick you up. Whitebeard is gentle with you, a sheer contrast to the way he just routed the other crew a few minutes prior. He has both hands wrapped around you and lifts you up close to his face where you nuzzle in the crook of his neck, your fingers twirling around the golden curls of his. You feel his pulse under you, heart still beating fast from the rush earlier, and whisper his name against his skin.

“I’m sorry for letting you out of sight. Does it still hurt?” You shake your head and smile when he places a kiss on your cheek, handling you as if you were made of glass. “I was just being reckless for a moment. And because I couldn’t make you out in the crowd…”

You mumble the last part, a little bit flustered, but Whitebeard just laughs out loud, his whole body shaking from it. He squeezes you tighter and seeks your gaze, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The way he looks at you can only be described as full of love and longing. After all, you are the owner of his heart; cracked it wide open and filled it with flowers, written your name all over its walls.

“Now let's get you home. After this day all I’m craving is some booze and lay down with you…”

#whitebeard #edward newgate #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #lale's anniversary raffle

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lovelymessybubbly · 26 days

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CONGRATS ON 2k TAMAAA!!!! <333

do u have any advice to share for the blogs that don’t have that many followers 🥺 👉👈

hi love, thank you so much (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ i appreciate your support greatly

i can do my best and share a couple things i try to implement !!

interacting with the community and other posts is probably my number one; things like reblogging posts (esp with tags), commenting and sending asks, participating in tag games, etc. also, if you are a content creator, sometimes creating fanfics/art/etc of other creators' fics/art/etc, and participating in events like squealing santa and tickletober. i will say for sure; if you are an artist/writer, PLEASE participate in squealing santa, it is an AMAZING and fun way to see new/underappreciated creators and meet other comm members

consistency makes a difference too, although i know that can be difficult with schedules and life of course. but, i still want to mention it because it still applies. even if you feel like your posts are not getting an "adequate" amount of attention, still try to post all the art/fics/etc that you make.

having a theme is also very attractive and makes your blog a unique place that people remember, so if you have something you love or represent (it can be a color scheme, a character/mascot, food, flowers, animals, anything) definitely flaunt it and drown your blog aesthetic in it lol. obviously the egg theme is a HUGE part of my blog and it is definitely a charm point for a lot of my friends/followers (which i appreciate immensely haha, i never thought tama-chan would be so well loved). so own it !!

please remember at the end of the day it is just the internet, try not to take it seriously if you can. dwelling on it or stressing about it is always meaningless, at least in my opinion. if you have a carefree and lax attitude about things, others will feel that and appreciate the safe and easy going environment. plus, a lot easier on your mental health !! we all got shit going on. there is no need to be pulling our hair out over tickle-themed blogs on tumblr lol

i hope this is somewhat helpful or reassuring !! i hope you continue to find success !!! (´,,•ω•,,)♡

#tamakucha shaberu #egg talk #tamaishiteru

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mamuzzy-creates-stuff · 2 months

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*chins hands* Could we learn about about Pons and Angel? (:

Uffff this one took a long time, but I finally finished it!!!! ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Thank you for this lovely ask, @riinoaheartilly and thank you for your patience! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

Pons and Angel are kind of neglected characters at this point, and since I came up with them, I know literally nothing about Angel aside from that he is a little wacko who loves affectionately terrorizing the the troopers. Oh and his nickname is "Angy". His design is also still a mistery for me (I gave him a default clone trooper design so far).

But I have more info about Pons. :))))

Pons: I achieved divinity. I'm transcending the mortal realm with higher purpose. I can hear colors. Headshot: Go to sleep before Angy makes a needle-cushion out of you, will you?

EDIT: @ithillia said that's not how "cushion" is written. I say, fuck my life, he is space-french. Sprench. Whatever. (Thanks for telling <3)

More info under the cut!

⚕️ He is the only Medic in the CG who has an actual battle-scar. One in the temple from a knife-cut. And one in the nape, from heavy physical injury.

⚕️It all happened while extracting an injured trooper during a fight between the CG and a criminal gang. Since medical officers don't have combat skills beside basic self-defence, normally they don't leave the walls of the Guard compound, but this matter needed immediate treating and safe extracting.

⚕️The CG low-key celebrates him as a hero and Pons tries not to take it as a mockery, comparing to his brothers who are constantly under the threat of getting shot down while he couldn't protect himself from that attacker. This injury actually caused him pontine stroke and throughout the years of war, he is still in rehabilitation.

⚕️That trooper he saved? One of Fox's boys from the Planetary Defence. Spinal injury treated in bactatank, otherwise he managed to get out from the Medbay after 1 month of rehabilitation (why is it so hard to write down this word???), but the trooper always checked back on Pons, keeping him company, keeping him entertained with the latest gossips or books, taking a walk with him through the compound, forming a life-long friendship with it. I don't know too much about this particular trooper, not even a name, but I already love these two.

⚕️Pons didn't have a name before this incident and the surgery. But hearing the word pons pons pons all over again during his rehab, really clicked him, and named himself as such after the organ. Some hidden superstitious part wishes that naming himself such as the damaged part of his brain would manifest in his recovery.

Pons is a latin word for "bridge", also the name for that part of the brain that responsible for unconcious processes and involuntarily movements, eg.: blinking, swallowing, pain processing, breathing, digestion, heartbeat, regulating sleep-cycle, even dreaming!

Pontine stroke causes motor and sensory impairment, weakness or paralysis in parts affected by cranial nerve, clumsy voluntarily movements, inability to control muscles for swallowing and speaking, and can be responsible for sleep-paralysis.

I actually came up with Pons while watching a documentary eries about the brain and wanted a clone character who sleepwalks. I'm not sure I'm keeping the sleepwalking part though.

⚕️He just can't have a good night sleep and haunted by night-terrors and sleep-paralysis. Always tired, basicly lives on caf and stims.

⚕️Pons hates himself for being unable to maintain his duty as a medic, not in serious matters that need steady hands and focus. instead he is the one who needs contant treatment and attention. Still, Headshot gives him reading materials to study to keep him mentally fit, often ask him for advice when he is stuck and does everything to make Pons feel, he is still part of the team and he is waited back.

⚕️He develops love for painting which started as an exercise for improving on his motor movements. His pictures depicting monsters, inspired by his nightmares became posters decorating various barrack rooms in the CG.

⚕️I drew this picture about him weeks ago, but thinking on actually giving him signs of stroke next time I draw him.

⚕️ @ithillia said I should name Pons' friend Jason. I don't know if he is a Jason-type of guy. But I used to know a Jason when I was a kid and have fond memories of him, he drew very cool stuff, and he is working now as a pharmacist. Maybe this is fate.

Hmmm... that's it so far. If you have more specific questions about him, don't hesitate to ask! <3

#original clone character: pons #original clone character: angel #clones #clone trooper #coruscant guard #the clone wars #star wars #my ocs #mamuzzy draws stuff #mamuzzy answers

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optogeneticist-nsfw · 8 months

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Hi! I came here to ask some advice, because you inspire me and you are cool and also because this is nsfw blog (you will understand as I explain myself)

So um.. I've been working on something original of mine, and it's a comic and it's nsfw. (I mean first 4 pages are and later in line after a while and a bunch of stuff happening it will have some more, but it important to the plot and characters) And I have no idea where and how to properly post it!

Most of my art is here on Tumblr and I love the idea of it being some sort of archive of my art, that's why I don't want to skip pages, or start posting a comic from 5th page, that would be weird, but also I want to properly censor it and put warnings and stuff.

I was thinking maybe creating a sideblog as well? Just to be safe?? And putting whole page under a cut, so people wouldn't have been jumbscared in case they haven't blocked any of the spicy tags, but still i dunno, maybe there are better ways. Or also better platforms, to post something like that there, and not on burning bird app or this hellsite.

Any advice is appreciated :з

if i were you, i would probably go with one of those free webcomic-hosting websites? i don't know much about them, but google brought me to comicfury, which seems to allow nsfw:

Your comics will only be removed if they contain illegal content.

however i would still recommend posting censored versions on twitter and/or tumblr and/or other social media sites just for visibility.

i wouldn't recommend pixiv, which is what i've been using for image hosting. it technically doesn't allow nsfw, but it enforces that by toggling your nsfw art to private a couple hours after you post it, meaning you can go back in the artwork settings and re-toggle it public afterwards. i haven't experienced any consequences from doing this, but it's also not a big deal to me if it all gets taken down one day. if you're making a webcomic, though, you'd want something more permanent.

you could technically use ao3, but ao3 doesn't host images. that means you can't upload an image directly to ao3; you have to give it a link to an image that's already on the internet. so, you'd need to find another place to upload the images. if you're at all tech-oriented, you can set up a free amazon web services bucket for image hosting and grab the links from there, but that's a little complicated.

i think a webcomic-hosting site is the best bet in your scenario!

#asks

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virtualgalaxysuit · 2 years

Note

Hey how are the kids created in your little nightmares au do the adults/monsters birth them or something else

This is an interesting question ahah

Well

I don't remember where and when

But

I read that children are "transported" into the LN universe from their own universes/worlds. So they have homes and even parents i guess 👀

In my AU actually this is the main theme of Six's story. She desperately wants to go home where she can be safe.

But Mono on the other hand doesn't remember his home because of the time loop. The Pale City is the only place he remembers and calls home. He thinks the rest of the world is devastated and just left in ruins, so he doesn't want to leave the Tower 👀

And

Please