#// you're all backwards this loop //

[sneeb-canons]

everyone is aware of the loops at all times, but they only have incomplete memories of past loops

heart only remembers how well everyone got along and their general feelings towards one another during each loop

mind has access to a timeline of past events for each loop (alongside statistics like how many loops they’ve gone through, how many times each of them died, how many times they’ve reached concord etc)

soul’s memories of past loops depend on how well the loop went. if the loop went well, he’ll remember more than heart and mind do; if the loop went badly, he doesn’t recall anything but a general sense of tiredness and hopelessness

hms can only remember past loops completely if they reach harmony or work together during cacophony (which is unlikely)

all of them are aware of how to reach concord, but it’s a bit more difficult to enact than it is on paper. in the earlier loops, despite all efforts to get along during early cacophony, mindless bickering almost always escalated into full on fighting; in the later loops, they’ve become desperate enough to cling to their own ideals for whole despite knowing that it wouldn’t be healthy in reality

in general, the ratio of failed loop to successful loop is about 150 failed loops for every 9 successful loops

(wow that was longer than i wanted it to be sorry)

Headcanon #591

[antsday]

honestly a lot of the most truly terrifying and manipulative horror-villain type characters come from romance authors who think they're writing a desireable male lead

[condemned-to-eternity]

pwus, theywe hating this

his misewy is entewtaining!

Exactly!

[rose-petles]

니키 - ruined make-out sessions -> N.NK

Warning → Kissing / Making out.

Paring → Clingbf!Niki x SoftieGfFem!Reader

Synopsis → Its been two months since he has kissed your lips.

You jumped when you placed your toothbrush back in the holder and looked into the mirror, only to find niki standing there behind you.

He giggled as he put his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest before he laid her chin on your shoulder.

"You scared me."

Your eyes locked in the mirror and he pouted sadly.

"Sorry. I just couldn't stand being away from you for another minute."

You turned around and looped your arms around his neck to pull him closer if that was even possible now.

"It's been two months since I last saw you. Two months without your arms around me, without being able to kiss you." He whispered the last part against your lips as he leaned in to steal another lingering kiss from your lips.

"I love being on tour. Don't get me wrong. You know being on tour. Don't get me wrong. You know how much I love it. But it's not easy being so far away from my girl."

You hooked your fingers under his chin, already craving the taste of his lips again. He breathed out a soft sigh as he gently laid his hand on your cheek, wanting to feel your soft and warm skin against his fingertips.

"I've missed you too, nini. So much."

You quickly melted into his kisses and hid touch as he let his hands roam along your body. He suddenly started to walk backward until he led you out of the bathroom and into the hotel room where you fell onto the mattress, fingers intertwined.

He pulled away to stare at you adoringly for a moment. You were wearing his shirt. It was nothing new. You find yourself stealing them all the time.

He even left his favorites behind for you, spraying his perfume on the fabric to let his smell linger until the day you reunited; which came much sooner than he expected, thanks to your wonderful surprise visit today.

He dropped his forehead onto yours and pecked your lips as he kept his eyes locked with yours.

You looked pulchritudinous, just laying there all smiles while you stared at his endearingly and eagerly awaited the next brush of her lips on your own.

"I'm so happy you're here." He whispered before trailing kisses to your neck.

"Me too, niki. I missed you lots." You mumbled as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes to let more of your skin be kissed lovingly by the sweet brush of his lips.

He put his fingers under your chin a moment later because as much as he loves kissing your neck and hearing those sighs fall from your lips, he loves the taste of your lips and the way they move against his own.

He deepened the kiss and brushed his fingers along your skin. You jumped when he lifted up his shirt you had on and his warm fingers fell to your skin.

But his touch was so calming, so doting, and after two long months without feeling his passionate touch, you basked in every second of his concupiscent caresses.

You held him close, so close that you could feel every swift beat of his heart against your own.

You couldn't help the soft sigh that fell from your lips as he pulled away from your lips once more to kiss and gently bite at your skin.

He’s missed you an inexpressable amount and he planned on showing you just how much; by loving on you and holding you as tight as she could.

But just as his lips brushed against that one special spot on your neck, the door of the hotel room was opening and you both jumped in shock.

Jake stood wide-eyed, looking just as shocked as you and Niki.

Niki cleared her throat awkwardly while you buried your face in his neck. Your cheeks were redder than ever before and niki would usually tease you for that, but his ears were just as red.

"Jake? What's up?"

"Uh," Jake mumbled and shook his head, trying to think of why he walked into the room in the first place.

"You didn't knock?" Niki wondered.

"No, I did. And Sunoo and Heeseung called before that. But neither of you answered and now we know why." He tried to crack a joke, but you were all too shocked and too awkward to laugh.

"Sunghoon wanted to know if you wanted to go out?Y/n's here, it's her first night, and we thought we'd do something fun to celebrate but... I think you found other ways to celebrate." You whined in embarrassment and niki shook his head.

"We'll be down in a few minutes."

Jake never left a room so fast before, simply nodding and slamming the hotel door behind him.

You and Niki stared at each other for a moment before he climbed off of you.

"Well. the next week should be fun. Having to look Jake in the eyes after that."

Niki chuckled and reached for your hand.

"Yeah. But I'll take the teasing. At least I've got you here and that's all that matters to me."

You laid your head on his shoulder and she kissed your head lingeringly.

"I feel the same way, nini."

He turned your cheek and leaned in for another kiss. But you pulled away quickly, taking him by the hand and leading her to the bathroom.

"Come on, we gotta get ready. The boys are waiting for us."

He whined as you dragged him into the bathroom to get ready, already craving your kisses again.

Back to -> | Navagation | Masterlist

Copyright © 2024 rose-petle/Rostle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.

[mymegrokosmos]

It isn't hard to get Seungcheol's attention. At least, not usually. He tends to keep an eye out in case you need anything. He's usually the first one to notice the slightest sign of discomfort or to catch you dissociation before you even notice you're tuning out yourself.

Not tonight it seems.

You've tried numerous times over the past hour to get a moment alone with your boyfriend. To ask if he would mind if you called it a night. It never seems to pan out.

First Chan barrelled right through your conversation, bless him he didn't even notice you were talking and he really did mean well. Then Soonyoung nearly spilled his drink all down you and you'd retreated to the bathroom to clean up.

You'd come back out mid game of billiards and it felt somehow scandalous to interrupt. That had distracted you for a while you had to admit. Cheol looked good in his plain black shirt and jeans all the time but tonight, matching Hansol's backwards cap with his own and with the way he slid some of the trickier shots home, you had found yourself feeling a little flushed.

You'd tried to catch him on the way to the kitchen to refill his drink only to get sidelined by a very determined Mingyu who apparently had points to prove. Jihoon looked so exasperated you'd taken pity and offered him a break from Gyu's pouting argument for a while only to lose track of your boyfriend in the house once again.

It wasn't like you weren't familiar with the place. You were over at Seungkwan and Jeonghan's at least twice a week. Somehow you still managed to struggle finding Seungcheol until you stumbled into the basement to find them already bickering about poker teams.

Now they were playing their own little version of a round robin tournament and you'd finally had enough. You tried catching your boyfriend's eye but he was completely focused on whatever Jihoon was saying. You didn't want to interrupt but you were dead on your feet.

You trudged upstairs, throwing on a tired smile when Jisoo appeared in the living room. He waved. You waved back.

"You heading out?"

You nodded. "I think it's time I called it a night. I have cozy pyjamas and a cup of hot tea calling my name back home."

He laughed, stepping forward to pull you into an awkward side hug without spilling the handful of drinks he was balancing in one arm. You patted his back.

"It was nice seeing you Shua. You're still coming by Saturday for that baking book club right?"

He nodded as he pulled back, readjusting the drink distribution to balance them across two hands. "I wouldn't miss it."

"I'll see you Saturday then."

"Mm, you want me to grab Coups for you?"

You shook your head. "No, let him finish his game. It seemed like he and Hannie were on a winning streak. I don't want to pull him away when he's having a good time."

Jisoo blinked at you. "Are you sure?"

"Yes Shua, I'm sure." You smiled. "I'll get an uber. He deserves to enjoy himself, especially after the week he's had. I'll text him when I'm on my way."

He didn't seem convinced but Jisoo nodded. "Okay, get home safe then. Text me when you get back?"

You kissed his cheek. "I'll text you and Hannie both." You promised.

He disappeared downstairs and you made your way through the living room back to the front entrance. It didn’t take long to grab your purse from the closet and slip your shoes back on. You were just pulling out your phone to schedule a car when footsteps down the hall startled you.

Before you could turn a hand came down to rest on your shoulder. "Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?"

You leaned back into him, tilting your head to look at your boyfriend. "Shua tattled on me huh?"

Cheol just blinked at you, his other hand finding it's usual place on your waist. "He said you looked wiped. His words, not mine."

You closed your eyes, just letting yourself rest against him for a minute. The hand on your waist slid down to your hip, thumb hooking into the belt loop of your jeans. He pulled you closer, hand on your shoulder rubbing a little warmth back into you.

"Baby? You haven't even left the house yet and you're already freezing. Why didn't you come get me?"

"You were busy."

You could feel the exhale as he sighed, pulling back from you slightly. "You know I'll always make time for you."

You turned, shaking your head and reaching up to cup his face in both hands. "Cheol, you shouldn't have to. Not always."

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back on his heels to listen. One thing about Seungcheol was that as a partner he would always hear you out before pointing out why he disagreed or arguing about anything.

Your communication wasn't always perfect but you had a system and, for the most part, it worked pretty well for you both. So you smiled and leaned up to peck his lips before continuing. That appeased him a little. Not much but he had his listening ears on and tuned into what you were saying.

"You were having fun and I'm capable of getting home on my own. I would have texted you to let you know I was safe but you should also be able to spend time with your friends without constantly having to check up on me."

He frowned and your hands slid down to rest against his neck, one moving to rub his bicep soothingly. He melted a little at the affection but you knew he still didn't like it.

"I would have told you, I promise. I tried so many times earlier but I kept getting dragged off by someone or other and you kept getting distracted. It's a little hard to tell you I'm ready to head home when I'm in the middle of mediating JunHao bickering and trying not to pick sides."

He softened at that, eyes fond as the barest hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips. "Yeah that never ends well."

You nodded, stepping a little closer. "Go finish your game. I'll call an uber and be in bed nice and warm and ready for cuddles when you get back."

He glanced over his shoulder and then took your hand, bringing it up to his lips. "Call me when you get back?"

You smiled. "Promise."

He nodded. "Okay. But wear my jacket. It's cold. I'll get a ride back with Jihoon or Wonwoo."

You leaned up to steal a kiss. "Mm deal. Call me when you're on the way?"

That seemed like a fair compromise for both of you. He nodded, stepping back to get his jacket from the closet and helping you into it.

"I will. Be safe. I'll see you soon."

He insisted on zipping you into his jacket, putting the uber charge on his card and standing with you until the car pulled into the drive. You smiled as he opened the car door for you and leaned up for a last kiss before bundling you into the vehicle.

"Bye, I love you Cheollie."

"I love you too baby. See you soon."

[yuanology]

m!reader fingering afab!geto while being 100% aware gojo's watching through the crack of the door so he decides to show gojo how sensitive his friend is and geto ends up squirting?? (lowkey embarrassed i wrote this, but yknow ignore it if you want😅)

what the Fuck .

gojo satoru was not a virtuous man. far from it, in fact. as a self-made god, satoru existed on a plane far above morality and whatever other human concept was created to define right and wrong. within infinity and the insurmountable power residing in it, there was only the man who wielded it and the humanity confining it.

even so, satoru still knew deep within his heart—the trembling, still beating thing residing underneath the constricts of his ribs—that he should not be doing this; that he should not be staying.

but satoru was not a virtuous man, and so he stayed.

because there, past the thin crack of the door, was his best friend—the same one he had known from childhood, the same one who had walked with him through the ins and outs of darkness—with his clothes stripped clean, thrown messily around the room, both of his feet planted flat on the bed, and his back arching off the mattress in a pleasured arch. between his legs, slick and heavy with evidence of his own debauchery, stood you—fully dressed, only the first two buttons of your collar open.

satoru knew of you. it was impossible not to. you were older than the both of them. when they were freshly entering their first year, you'd already matured where you existed in your third one. satoru himself had barely spared you a glance but in retrospect, he did remember suguru mentioning once or twice that he was training with you on the side.

fuck, satoru thought, dazed. if he had known this was what 'training' involved, he would have listened a bit better on what suguru had to say about you.

because you were holding his thighs apart, well-practiced fingers relentlessly pushing past suguru's slick folds, producing the loudest squelching noises. satoru couldn't see very well from this angle, but he could hear the sounds his best friend was making; fucked up and high-pitched, whiney in a way satoru had never heard him speak before.

suguru cried out your name, breathless and panting. "please," he was begging you, sounding close to tears. "please, no more."

you leaned in, mouth brushing over suguru's chest as you whispered your response. satoru couldn't hear you, even as his ears strained to catch a wisp of your words. but whatever it was, it must not be good because suguru is letting out a loud whine, one the turned into the strangled beginnings of a scream when satoru noticed that you had begun to pick up pace.

oh my god.

just as satoru took the first hesitant half step backwards, swaying in place, he hears your drawled out voice—cutting, brave, unyielding.

"now, where do you think you're going, satoru?"

satoru stiffened, and he realised that he wasn't the only one. suguru did, too—his body locking up as a new flush crawled across his skin. satoru had half the mind to apologise to his best friend in his head, a chant of i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msuchashittyfriend looping in his head as if it could forgive him for not only being a pervert, but also for intruding on his best friend's secret.

satoru cleared his throat. he wanted to make an excuse, to apologise, but all that could tumble out of his throat was a hoarse, "um."

suguru let out a high whine at the sound of satoru's voice, as if he was spurred on by his audience. his back arched, his mouth parting as a deep sound escaped him. satoru watched, mesmerised, as the muscle on suguru's body rippled at the motion, your hands never once faltering in its ministrations.

"come here for a minute, satoru." your voice was calm, collected and almost clinical. as if you didn't practically have your entire fist buried in between suguru's slick folds, your thumb nudging at where satoru guessed must be suguru's clit if suguru's high pitched whimpers were anything to go by. "i need your opinion on something."

satoru swallowed thickly as he was drawn into the room, his motions dumb as if he was a mere puppet on your string. as he moved closer, he realised that there was more to the scene that he couldn't earlier see from his post by the door.

suguru's cunt was fucking drooling, slick dripping all over the place as his hips canted in the air as if to escape and to move closer to the pleasure. his hole would no doubt he gaping if you pulled your hand out, hungry for more. your thumb covered his clit wholly, rubbing at it mercilessly.

satoru felt himself twitching in his pants, throat working around the words stuck in his lungs.

"what do you need?" satoru asked, his voice wrecked. he would be embarrassed by it if it wasn't promptly drowned out by the sound of suguru's choked out noises.

without thinking, satoru moved a hand to rest on suguru's thigh, at the sight of his best friend in distress. he didn't realise what a great mistake it was until suguru did a full body shudder, a ragged gasp leaving him. satoru couldn't fucking breathe.

clearly, you didn't share the same sentiment because you were speaking again. "suguru wants me to stop, but i personally think he can come one more time," you said casually, as if this was a common conversation to have with just about anyone.

suguru let out a weak whimper, pathetic and desperate in a way satoru never knew him to be, at the sound of your words. you must have been trying to convince him about this for a while then.

stiffly, satoru nodded, not quite knowing how to react. "okay," he said dumbly.

he wasn't looking at you, too entranced by the sight of suguru with his legs spread wide open and his messy cunt being on full display, but he could hear the smile in your voice when you said, "well, what do you think? can he come one more time?"

satoru opened his mouth, a half-baked answer on the tip of his tongue, when he was interrupted by the sound of suguru's babbling.

"no. no, please. no more." there were tears in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks prettily, satoru noticed. suguru looked a mess, his hair a halo around his head and his hips lifted in the air as if he was nothing more than a cheap whore. satoru thought he was beautiful. "please. i can't. don't make me. please, please, please, pl—"

his words promptly turned into a loud scream, half-pained and half-pleasured, and satoru's head whipped around to look at the source of it. he swallowed thickly when his eyes dropped from suguru's face to his engorged clit, where your thumb was no longer rubbing at but rather, your earlier free hand was now gently tugging at the hood over it.

holy shit, satoru thought, his head spinning. because he just watched you pinch suguru's clit. you pinched suguru's clit. judging from the nonchalance of your gesture and the way suguru didn't try to fight back, instead canting his hips higher, this was something that you did often.

satoru was going to die. holy shit.

"shh, suguru," you reprimanded, silencing suguru's desperate sobs with a gentle pat to his thigh. suguru sniffled, but he stopped letting out those depressing sounds. "it's not you i'm talking to."

suddenly reminded that he owed you the debt of an answer, he blurted out an answer before he could think twice. "he can," satoru replied. "he's an overachiever, the dumbass. he can come another time."

suguru let out a loud sob at his answer, one that sounded a lot like betrayal.

satoru couldn't properly apologise to him, though, because your lips were curling into a sharp grin, looking like a cat who caught the canary, and satoru couldn't help but think that maybe, he was just in as big of a trouble as suguru was. maybe, with his answer, satoru had condemned not just his best friend, but himself as well.

you pulled your hand out of suguru with a lewd squelch, one that made satoru flush all the way to the roots of his hair—and oh god, he hadn't even realised he could burn up even more—and the way that suguru whimpered, both devastated and relieved by the loss, wasn't helping.

you took a step backwards, letting suguru's body drop onto the mattress. you gestured towards the now empty space between suguru's thighs. "on your knees, satoru. hands behind your back."

satoru couldn't do anything but comply. he dropped to his knees, his hands behind his back and his eyes now at level with suguru's fucked out cunt. holy shit. suguru was twitching, his pretty clit engorged and swollen from the earlier abuse and fucking pierced apparently. satoru exhaled sharply at the sight, his breath fanning across suguru's folds, and earning himself a short, aborted whine from suguru. oh my god.

satoru almost flinched when he felt your hand card through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands as he guided your face closer to suguru's gushing pussy. "go on," you ordered him, your voice gentled by the sound of melodious laughter. "eat him."

thank you for the meal, satoru thought dazedly as his face was guided closer and closer, until he was buried in suguru's cunt and lapping up the taste of his best friend.

the response was immediate—suguru's thighs started quivering on either side of satoru's head, moving to rest on satoru's shoulders and pulling him in as if to suffocate him. satoru didn't mind, taking that as an unspoken order to start eating his best friend out like his life depended on it.

he didn't bother with hesitating or testing the waters. he licked a broad strip up the length of suguru's cunt, dipping in between his folds to gather the slick there at the centre of his tongue. satoru moaned at the taste, and he was immediately greeted by the feeling of suguru's walls squeezing around him as suguru met him with his own weak whimper.

"suguru's already sensitive." that was you again. there was notable amusement in your voice. "want me to help you make him come faster?"

satoru should say no. he wanted to stay buried in suguru's cunt forever, eating his best friend out until he was shaking all over the place. he wanted to make his best friend feel so good that he stopped being satoru's suguru and instead started becoming your suguru with satoru instead.

but he could hear his best friend's pleas even above the sound of his pounding heartbeat, the sound of suguru's suffering, and he couldn't let this keep going for much longer.

he nodded, the bridge of his nose bumping over suguru's clit in the process. suguru's thighs squeezed around him, a whimper escaping, and satoru quickly drew circles on suguru's hips in apology.

you, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same courtesy as you told him, "suck on his clit, then open your jaw wide."

satoru obeyed even though he didn't really understand why you were telling him to do that, knowing that you likely understood suguru's body more than he did in this matter.

he pursed his lips around suguru's clit, sucking on it firmly, before he let his jaw drop open.

oh.

oh, holy fuck.

because suguru was squirting directly into his mouth, making a mess out of the lower side of his face, and satoru could only kneel there, his mouth wide open as he swallowed all of his best friend's slick juices. his head was light, and he couldn't breathe—both from the suffocation and the fact that geto suguru, his best friend, his one and only, just fucking squirted into his mouth.

when suguru finally let him free, thighs unlocking from around his head and limply falling onto the edge of the bed. satoru leaned back, unable to process what just happened, when he heard you speak again.

"don't forget your manners, suguru."

it was quiet for a moment, then he heard the small, almost shy, voice of his best friend. "thank you, satoru," suguru mumbled.

"you're welcome," satoru replied, his voice sounding fucked over. he couldn't correct himself just yet, though, his head still reeling.

he was still on his knees as he watched you rearrange suguru on the bed, peppering soft kisses onto his face and his collarbone and his chest in stark contrast to the way you had treated him earlier. there was the lull of soft conversation passing between the both of you, one that satoru didn't try being a voyeur of.

he was content with just kneeling there, his head filled with cotton and static. he didn't even bother with touching himself, still too entranced by the feeling of this all happening.

finally, your footsteps drew close to him. he tilted his head as he watched you approach him. you cupped his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze.

"messy," you noted, but the corners of your mouth were quirked into a smile. "but suguru's always been messy." satoru didn't have any response to that, so he simply nodded stupidly. somehow, that must be the right answer because you laughed.

you took a step back, taking a seat onto the edge of the bed. satoru's eyes tracked your movement almost curiously. he frowned when you patted your lap, as if you were expecting something from him.

"over my knee," you said. "i think fifteen should do. usually, i'd give more, but i'm assuming you're new to the scene, hm? don't forget to count."

satoru blinked dumbly. he stayed rooted on his knees. "what?" he asked hoarsely.

you raised a brow at him. "oh, satoru," you said, your voice placating. "did you really think that i was going to let you go unpunished just like that? over my knee. fifteen spanks and i want you to count."

when he still did nothing, your gaze darkened and your voice grew firm. "now, satoru."

oh, satoru thought smartly.

swallowing thickly, he moved to comply.

[peachylynnie]

old

word count: 800 (unintentional)

synopsis: in which you ask rafayel a question he isn't prepared for.

contains: rafayel x mc!reader, established relationship, they're at the beach, reference to rafayel's lore (the part where mc doesn't remember him), fear of age, fluff to angst to even more angst (not a bad ending), and kissing.

a/n: this is a result of me listening to algernon by yorushika on loop, especially the part, "we're losing our memories slowly." enjoy! reblogs and comments are always welcome. do NOT copy or translate my work. rafayel does NOT endorse plagiarism.

"will you still love me when i'm old?"

"what kind of question is that?" rafayel pouts at you, scrunching his nose. "of course, i will."

you chuckle mirthlessly. bringing your knees to your chest, you don't look at him. instead, you stare off into the sun who is eager to finally embrace the waves after a long day. sighing deeply, you wonder if it is happy even though it no longer shines. "i'm serious, raf. i'm going to have wrinkles and all."

"pft, did i ever tell you i have a thing for wrinkles?"

"raf!"

"okay, okay!"

with a bright smile, rafayel cups your red cheeks and turns your face towards him. you can't help but tear up when you meet his eyes. no one has ever looked at you with so much love. there is no doubt he loves you now. but what about in the future? will he still look at you like this when you have aged? grayed? no longer able to hold a candle to a ripe rose?

shaking your head, you try to turn away, but rafayel doesn't let you. he turns you to face him again. "yes, i will still love you when you're old."

unable to stop the tears from flowing, you bury your head in rafayel's chest. you don't deserve him. no one does.

but rafayel wants to convince you otherwise. he wants you to see what he sees. he wants you to trust he will love you until your dying breath. he wants you to know he dreams of a moment in the future when he can truthfully tell you he lived a good life thanks to you and draw his last breath in your arms. he wants to grow old with you.

"cutie," he calls for you, trying to pull you away so he can look at you properly. "look at me. please?"

you could never say no to rafayel. you tilt your chin up, allowing him a peek at your swollen eyes. he can't help but giggle at how adorable you are. "there you are, cutie."

"it's not funny, raf," you whine as you tilt back down. "i won't be beautiful to you anymore. heck, i won't even be able to talk or move anymore. how could you possibly still love me then?"

"woah, woah," the lavender-haired man reacts as he pulls you by the shoulders. "you're afraid of a natural process all humans go through and not the terrifying, monstrous wanderers you face every day?"

"yes." you grumble.

rafayel chuckles and kisses your forehead. "trust me on this, cutie," he kisses your nose. "no matter what you look like," he kisses your cheek. "or what you do," he kisses your chin. "i will always love you." he kisses your lips, finally saving them from the cold ocean breeze. "always."

he deepens the kiss, wrapping a hand around your nape and the other around your waist. shutting your eyes, you relish in his lips and allow your tears to fall. as the sand beneath you grows wet from your tears, your fingers find refuge in rafayel's clothes, with you desperately hoping this moment could last forever. two lovers, seeking each other's presence on the beach and promising to love each other no matter what the world throws at them, including time—the very thing people fear yet want.

as your fingers tighten around his attire, rafayel can't help but push himself more into the kiss, causing you to fall backward with him on top of you, his arms planted at each side of your head. opening your eyes, you gasp at the sight above you. there he was, panting with his sweet lips parted, his cerulean and coral eyes dazed, and his broad arms trembling.

he wants more. he always does. but there's one more question you have to ask.

"will you still love me," you swallow shakily. "even if i forget about you?"

his breath hitches.

"r-raf?" you stare at him in concern, raising your hands to hold his face. flinching at the chill of his skin, you rub his cheek with your thumb. why is he so cold? he's never cold, ever. his evol makes sure of that. and his eyes… there was a flash of sorrow in them. "are you okay?"

rafayel inhales deeply before burying himself in the crook of your neck, his arms now tightening around your waist. his voice muffled and the wind strong, you don't hear what he says. "raf?" patting his head, you ask him to repeat what he said.

slowly, rafayel rises, his now-watering eyes meeting yours. you immediately return your hands to his face, trying to wipe his tears away. "raf? what's wrong?"

"nothing," he replies hoarsely. "it's just…"

you gaze at him worriedly, your eyes imploring him to answer quickly so you can take away whatever was paining him. but rafayel doesn't say anything. instead, he brings a hand to your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb. "it's just?" you repeat softly.

a moment of silence passes before he finally answers.

"yes, i will love you even when you forget about me, my beloved bride."

[mrrharper]

Player Of The Month

You can support me at ko-fi.com/mrrharper

It did not take long.

Jake got a notification saying he'd been chosen as the Player of the Month from the server he's been playing on for months now. He was very excited about this as he's never got any in-game title like that before.

He clicked on the notification and scrolled through all the buzzwords to see what rewards he would be getting. Weirdly, there was no mention of any items, upgrades or other perks. Instead there was a button. "Brand new personalized experience".

Jack eagerly clicked the button, the only option avaliable to him. At first nothing happened and he just assumed the game was loading some new assests which would probably take some time.

Suddenly he felt some buzzing in his head, followed by a sharp pain and a feeling as if his headset was tightening around his head. He was paralyzed by this for a moment, his mind completely losing track of what was happening with his body as it was experiencing sudden sensory overload.

And then he was back in the game, but something was different. He was transported to Iron Gym, a locaton on the opposite side of the map from he was just a minute ago. He looked down and saw that his avatar had changed completely. He tried to access his character menu to see what had happened but he couldn't, so he walked up to a mirror.

In in he saw someone completely different. A young dude, clearly muscular, wearing a backwards cap and a pair of tight compression shorts. He looked like a gym bro! Not only that, he looked pretty similiar to the NPCs that populated this area of the game world, which Jake found very strange. Something went wrong here.

Wait, where was his headset? Jake put his hands on his face, but couldn't find the bulky gear he had to wear to play. What was going on?

A player came up to Jake and chose the option to initiate the conversation.

Jake #27AD0019 turned around to face Player#A97F4. His eyes flashed red, showing he was now in interaction mode.

"ey dude, ya got any issue with me bruh?" he asked, an arrogant streak in his voice. He then waited for the player to choose a response form the dialog tree, entering one of his idling animations, moving slightly from left to right and flexing his bare chest.

"Damn, that's a new one, didn't see this character before here" the player muttered to himself, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of a new NPC. He then chose a response.

"No, I just noticed you're a regular here and you seem to be doing pretty good, so I wanted to say hi."

#27AD0019's changed his attitude from annoyed and arrogant to proud and cocky. A new animation was triggered by the player's response, making him flash his teeth in a cocky smile, then flex his arms in a double biceps pose.

"hell yeah bruh, am the top dawg here dude"

The player focused on the NPC's muscular arms, while the character kept them in a flexed position up in the air. Player#A97F4 was starting to enjoy the conversation and knew exactly what dialog option he would choose.

"I see, you clearly work out every day. Your form is very impressive."

This prompted another few animations, in which #27AD0019 flexed his arms, chest and legs, showing off his muscles to the player.

"fuck yeah bro! i lift, like, all day dude, gotta work for guns like this bro huhuhuhuhuhuh" He let out a low, dumb laugh. The player grinned as he saw one of the potential responses he had avaliable.

"So not much happening in your life except the gym, right?"

A few calculations happened int he background that determined whether the NPC would respond positively or with anger. The result then took into account the character's intelligence statistic - 3/10. This gave the player the exact result he was looking for.

"huhuhuh yeah dude, am a real gym bro dude, ain't nothin' more important that liftin' bro. head empty, just gains huhuhuhuhuh" The answer triggered another loop of flexing animations.

#27AD0019 was going to be a very popular NPC.

[awrkive]

smut + 14 + tlp!jk WHAHSJJSNSKSJSSJ I lowk feel like jk would b a little silly this line 😆

14. "I am your daddy."

note: lmfao anon u r right and u should say it

wc: 0.9k

warning/s: c*nnilingus

“Slap me.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Just not too hard,” you insist, already feeling a little restless with the cuffs around your wrist. It’s cold and you’re butt naked and Jungkook hasn’t even taken off his pants yet. 

But Jungkook just incredulously responds with, “No, I’m not gonna slap you.” 

“Don’t be a pussy,” you roll your eyes at him, nudging his thigh with your foot. When you dig your heel in his crotch, Jungkook catches your ankle and positions your leg back to the mattress with a “tsk.” You whine. “Jungkook.” 

“What?” He says with mock emphasis as if he doesn’t have you spread out for him right now. He did just make you cum, though… but the way you’re tied to the bedpost right now is making you feel a little raunchier than usual.

“If we're doing BDSM and shit, you need to be a little mean.” you say. You bite your lip when Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair in that weirdly sexy way. You’ll never tire of thinking that he’s extremely attractive and that he's yours.

“Baby, I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but you’re crazy if you think I can ever lay my hand on you.” 

“Ugh.” You groan sarcastically. “Fine. What do you suggest then? You’re the one who wanted to try out the cuffs, mind you.” 

“So? I just wanted to eat you out.” He retorts. “With cuffs.” 

You pout. “I thought you were finally going to reveal you have some sort of a daddy kink…” 

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. Unbuckling his belt, you bite your lip as you watch him slide it out of the loops and throw it on the heap of the floor, zipping down his pants and pulling it down with his boxers all the way off to reveal his cock. It’s engorged and red already, with precum shining to attention.

The metal clunk when you made a move to reach out, and only then do you realize that you’re restricted to any arm mobility as of now. Which makes you frown. 

“Do you have a daddy kink?” Jungkook throws back the question at you, stroking his cock. You're focused on that before he leans down on your chest. 

Your breath hitch when he peppers kisses down the perk of your breasts, a moan escaping from your lips when he wraps his mouth around your nipple, quick to alternate between sucking and licking. 

When Jungkook fondles your other boob, your head lolls backward, eyes rolling at the sensation. 

“I-I’m not sure. Never tried it.” You say, focusing on the movement of his tongue. 

“Uh-huh,” Jungkook furthers his mouth down your stomach, making your eyes snap open. You look at him, at the curls on top of his head, curious to what he’ll do next. When he holds your waist, he murmurs, “Pretty girl,” It tickles, the way he leaves ghosts of his kisses on your skin, but when his lips touch the heat of your core, you sigh with content. “Pretty pussy.” 

“Oh.” You moan when he licks at your lips, his tongue quickly coming back for more and hand pinning your waist down when your begin to buck up. 

Jungkook’s never been shy about being an avid fan of your pussy and eating it any time of day but he always manages to render you speechless at how much he likes doing it, because he performs it with such purpose; tongue licking every crevice and mouth sucking every slick, and when he inserts his long fingers in your aching, wet hole, you keen just like every a few minutes ago and every single time. 

“Fuck.” You sigh out, already feeling another wave of orgasm when Jungkook speeds up. The sound of spit and slick is lewd and vulgar to the ears, but you couldn't care less, not when you’re close to cumming. 

“Baby– oh god–” You thrash in the cuffs, knees shaking at your impending release. With Jungkook’s two fingers sliding in and out of your pussy and his tongue sucking your clit simultaneously and with your inability to hold anything, you suddenly feel like crying. “Kook, oh my god, slow– slow down, please–”

But instead of doing just that, Jungkook speeds up even faster, and that nearly flies you off the edge, can feel yourself cumming when–

“Jung– what the fuck?” 

You look at Jungkook in offense when he suddenly comes up, cutting your release. Nevermind the fact that he looks like literal sin with your juices all over his mouth and chin – the damn guy just stopped eating you out just as when you were about to cum. 

Jungkook shrugs coolly, and if it wasn’t because of the cuffs, you would’ve jabbed at his chest by now because the audacity? 

"You want me to be mean, you said,” his lips curl up playfully. “I’ll edge you a bit. Then you can have my cock... when I want to. How’s that sound?”

Your face contorts into confusion and realization and there’s a weird feeling in your stomach because you want to knock at his head but also… it’s kinda… hot? 

You purse your lips.

Jungkook decides to add, “I’m your daddy now.” 

You deadpan. 

What you don’t expect is Jungkook immediately laughing just right after he said that. 

“Alright, damn, that sounded way better in my head.” He snickers, and you can’t help but feel a little silly too. 

“Jungkook.” you half-whine and laugh. 

Jungkook leans down to kiss your mouth, and you can feel his hard dick nudging your thigh at the action. Cupping your cheeks, Jungkook looks at you for a few seconds then kisses you again. 

“I can’t be mean to you. You’re my baby.” He purrs and as if he can’t get enough, he pecks your mouth again. 

You jut your bottom lip out to not laugh. He takes it as another invite for a kiss.�� 

“You’re a sap.” You tease. 

When Jungkook breaks away (not without kissing you again), he looks at you with a proud smile. “Damn straight.” 

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8

Chapter 8

Masterpost

“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.

“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.

Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”

“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.

“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.

Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”

“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”

“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”

Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.

He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”

“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.

“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.

“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.

He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.

“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”

“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”

“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”

“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”

“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.

“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”

“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.

“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.

“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.

He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.

He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.

Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.

When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.

“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”

“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”

“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”

“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.

“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.

He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.

He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.

He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.

“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”

Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”

“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.

Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”

He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”

“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.

“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”

“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.

“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.

“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.

“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”

“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.

“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”

He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”

Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”

“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.

“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”

He paused. He couldn't go on.

“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.

Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.

Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.

He nodded miserably.

She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.

[amourrs]

you're such a fucking tease, you know that? with ellie williams pretty please 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

thank you angel!! — one where you wear ellie’s flannel and neither of you actually end up leaving the house (fem!reader, smut 18+, ai audios at the end, 2.2k)

You’re supposed to leave by nine, so of course Ellie gets out of the bathroom at quarter past.

It’s not the first time she’s made the pair of you run late. You’ve learned not to let it bother you like it used to though, because it’s not personal so much as it’s just shitty time management. Anyway, it’s not like you’re going anywhere fancy- just to the local Starbucks because you really want your first pumpkin spice latte of the season- but like, still. Surely everyone knows the rules: obey the timings of the pumpkin spice latte, or get cursed by the latte gods.

The sound of the toilet door clicking shut has you springing off the bed, eyes zeroing in on Ellie’s car keys on the bedside table as she bounds into the room, feet springing with every step.

“Pumpkin spice latte day— can I get a woop woop?”

Truthfully, you both know that Ellie couldn’t really care less about the seasonal drinks at Starbucks. It was more about making you happy- just like all the times she bought an iced brown sugar oatmilk shaken espresso because you were going through the Starbucks drive through and refused to get anything unless Ellie did too, because you “didn’t want to drink alone”, a sentiment she rolled her eyes at but still never challenged (which may have something to do with the fact that she orders her drink in a venti and adds two pumps of vanilla, because she secretly loves the silly little coffee just as much as you do— not that you could torture that information out of her, of course.)

You turn around with a smile, smoothing out your skirt as you look into your girlfriend’s eyes for the first time since she’s entered the room. The checkered black and red button up over your shoulders shifts as you move and you suddenly notice Ellie’s smile drop as her eyebrows arch to the very top of her forehead. Instantly you’re overtaken by a sense of complete bewilderment. That is, until you catch the glint in her eye as she slowly takes in your outfit, an expression of utter lovesickness working its way onto her face.

“Is that my flannel?”

It’s hard to bite back a grin as your girlfriend’s hand comes up to cup your face and she presses a kiss to your forehead, but you manage to do it anyway. You’ve borrowed Ellie’s clothes before— usually sort of ratty t-shirts you tend to sleep in, or oversized hoodies that smell like home— and yet every time she sees you in something that’s hers, it seems to melt her heart into a gooey puddle just as quickly as if it were the first time.

“Yeah, but I can take it off if you want,” you tease, hands sliding down until your arms are looped messily around your girlfriend’s waist and you can tug her in closer for a proper kiss. What starts off slow quickly turns messy as Ellie’s enthusiasm begins to shine through in her technique or lack thereof as the kiss deteriorates into a chaos of tongues and teeth and clashing (not that you mind, of course).

“Eh, maybe you should take it off. Red isn’t really your look,” Ellie jokes, eyes glinting at her own terrible attempt at humour. You go to roll your eyes but you’re caught off guard as an overzealous movement causes her leg to nudge hard into yours and you both fall backwards onto the bed, you trapped underneath her as you try in vain to extricate yourself from the tangled mess of her gangly limbs. Ellie makes no effort to help you— in fact, she seems to relish in the fact that you’re caged in by the lattice of her muscled arms as she gently reaches down to peck you on the lips. That one peck is of course followed by another, and another, and soon Ellie’s peppering kisses all over your face as you squeal and kick your legs.

“El, stop it. Thought we were gonna go to Starbucks and get pumpkin spice lattes,” you rebuke, head twisting until you can see the large clock over the door. You gasp as you catch sight of the long minute hand’s position. “It’s already half past! They’re probably all out of the pumpkin scones—” your complaints are cut off as Ellie returns to kissing your face again, lips smushing against yours in an almost aggressive display of affection.

“Fuck the pumpkin scones.”

Instantly your face takes on a mock-hurt expression that’s really only half a joke— not that Ellie seems to care. Her lips are already back at your temples and she’s smearing a little kiss on each side before she moves to pepper your cheeks.

“Don’t speak against the pumpkin scones. That’s blasphemy, El,” you remind her sternly, although it’s hard to keep your focus when her mouth is slowly sliding past your jawline and leaving little love bites along the column of your neck.

“M’sorry, babe. Let me make up for it, yeah?” Ellie teases, and that’s when you realise that somewhere in the midst of all the kisses Ellie’s hands have ventured under your shirt, running a hungry path from your waist to explore the expanse of your upper back. It’s impossible to contain the whine that’s begging to escape from your throat at the sensation of her warm fingers drawing circles against your skin, so you don’t. It spills into the air and Ellie laughs against your clavicle as she smears a kiss there. There’s something almost holy about the way she makes contact with you, the unbridled affection lathered in every touch as her fingers travel further upwards. You can tell when it registers in her brain that her hands had been able slide smoothly up your back with no obstruction, because she pulls back from where she’s been attacking your neck to let out a groan.

“Fuck, really? You were gonna go out without a bra on— and not tell me?” Mock betrayal saturates her words and you giggle, heart swelling about a trillion sizes as Ellie contorts her expression into a goofy frown. “S’not funny, baby,” your girlfriend complains, petulance colouring her words as she continues to keep up the facade of genuine annoyance, “what if some stranger decided to eye up the girls?”

“Oh my God, Ellie. I told you to stop calling them that.”

“They’re my girls!” she defends, eyes narrowing. “What else am I supposed to call them?”

“Thought I was your girl,” you say loftily, eyes flicking to Ellie’s panicked face.

“You are— I mean, they are— oh, fuck it,” she grumbles, hands coming up to slip the flannel right off your shoulders. There’s a pop as she pulls at the neckline impatiently and a few buttons launch themselves off of the shirt and hit the opposite wall. Your mouth falls open in shock.

“Ellie,” you admonish, “you really shouldn’t— oh, fuck!” A broken moan tears itself from your throat as you look down to see Ellie’s mouth circling your tit. She looks up for a moment in satisfaction at the sound, preening at the little gasps that continue to fall from your lips as you clutch at the sheets for purchase, before she buries her face back into your cleavage. Her hand comes up from your waist to pinch at your nipple as you whine, back arching up as you chase the stimulation.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Ellie groans, head popping up like a jack-in-the-box as her lips chase yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you kiss her back with just as much passion. “You know I can’t resist you in my clothes. Think you planned this on purpose, baby. If you wanted me to fuck you, you shoulda just told me, yeah? Don’t have to act like a little slut to get my attention.” The meanness in Ellie’s words has you keening, hips rocking up into her thigh of their own accord as warm arousal kindles in your belly.

“M’sorry,” you practically sob, hips still rolling upwards in desperate search of relief. “Ellie, please.” Your doe-eyed pleading expression clearly has your desired effect because suddenly Ellie’s hands are tightening around your waist and you find your positions flipped. Now the auburn haired girl lies beneath you, your legs wrapped directly around either side of her muscular thigh as she raises her eyebrow expectantly.

“Well, go on then,” she prompts, jolting her leg slightly to send a wave of pleasure through you as the rough denim of her jeans grazes at your clit through your panties. You wriggle your hips around slightly but you can’t find a rhythm that works, your legs growing painfully stiff within about two minutes of moving. “C’mon, babe,” Ellie tuts, hands reaching for your waist. “Tired already?”

“Hurts,” you moan, the puppy dog eyes coming back out in full force again. “El. Need you to help me, Ellie, please, I can’t and—”

You’re cut off by Ellie’s snide laugh. Dragging your eyes up to her face, you notice for the first time just how turned on she really is. Her pupils are blown so wide that her green irises are more like tiny, paper thin borders around the dilated black circles, her hair slightly dampened to her temples by sweat as she continues to chuckle at your dilemma. There’s just something about how fucking desperate you look that gets her going, makes her long to sink her canines into your neck and then tongue gently over the mark left behind, lips peppering up the column of your throat as an apology— and so she does it. It’s a nice juxtaposition to her recent meanness, reminiscent of the earlier affections which got you into this predicament in the first place, the sweetness of it making you let out a little whimper from the hollows of your chest. The sound tugs on Ellie’s heartstrings and she begins to relent, hands sliding down from where they’re snaked around your waist to find a home at the base of your hips instead.

“Okay, pretty girl, I know,” she soothes, mouthing gently at your neck still as you keen in anticipation of her movement, “I know, Ellie’s got ya. Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before she’s rocking her thigh in even motions, her hands helping your hips to tilt with the movement as your clothed cunt slides back and forth across the muscled surface. A sigh of relief spills from you as the long-awaited friction finally begins to build and you wrap your arms around Ellie’s neck, smushing your lips against hers. A pretty strawberry toned blush creeps up from your girlfriend’s neck to colour her cheeks, freckles highlighted against the surface of her skin as she attempts to hide the dopey smile that wants to make itself known on her face.

“What was that for, huh?”

“Love you,” you pant, Ellie’s hands moving faster as she bounces her thigh now, racing to give you the release you’ve been craving for the past half an hour. You shift your weight slightly and suddenly there’s a delicious pressure on your clit as it catches against the seam of Ellie’s jeans through the soaked fabric of your underwear. You moan out instantly, head tipping forward to crash into the curve between her shoulder and her neck as your hands rake across the rippled expanse of her back.

“Love you too, honey. How much d’you wanna bet that you’ll cum in the next five minutes?” You look back up to glare at her, mock offense painted across your tired features. “Or not,” Ellie rectifies quickly, a guilty look on her face as she tries not to laugh at your (quite frankly ridiculous) expression.

True to Ellie’s suspicions, it only takes you three more minutes to announce that you’re close, nails digging crescent moons into the pale skin of her shoulders.

“Ellie—”

“I know, baby,” comes her strained response, trying her hardest not to come in her pants at the way you’re whining her name. Instead, she settles for dropping her hand down to the point where your pussy drips all over her thigh, deft fingers flipping up your skirt and applying the perfect amount of pressure to your swollen clit. “Gonna cum for me, honey?”

“Oh, fuck—” you’re sobbing as your high crests over you, legs shaking as Ellie’s thumb continues to draw tight circles onto your sensitive bud until you have to physically push her away, body flopping down onto the bed in sheer exhaustion as Ellie leaves the room. You remain in that position until you hear your girlfriend call your name, your head swivelling up to meet her soft smile as she gently begins to clean you with a damp washcloth, taking extra care as you hiss when she bumps against your still overstimulated clit. You can tell there’s something on her mind as she grins to herself, and you can’t help but ask, even though you know you’ll probably regret it. “What’s up with you, weirdo?”

She looks up at you. “Huh?”

“You’re smiling like you just won a contest.” Ellie hums noncommittally and returns to her gentle ministrations with the flannel between your thighs until, finally, the question that she’s been holding back since the second you came spills out of her:

“Bet you’re not thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone now, huh?”

(You were, in fact, thinking about that fucking pumpkin scone. Not that you could torture that information out of you, of course.)

[yeyinde]

Outlaw!Price, the enigmatic leader of the notorious and deadly 141 gang, who stumbles upon you one evening near the stables (attempting to steal the mare he had his eyes on, no less) as you try to sneak out of the city (and away from the awful, awful man you're supposed to be married to in the morning), and decides to help you get away.

But if you think it's altruism that's making him lend a helping hand to a stranger, you're wrong. In this life, he knows it's kill or be killed.

And most importantly:

finders keepers.

“How's this,” he begins, and everything inside of you screams to run. “I'll accompany you across the desert. Get you somewhere safe.” 

“Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure,” you sneer, edging backwards. “As if I'm dumb enough to believe that.”

“Can't leave a maiden—” your scathing hiss makes his lips twitch beneath the thick moustache; “—all on her own like that. I know these parts like the back of my hand. No harm will come to you. That, you have my word for.”

“And what's that worth?” 

He dips his chin. “Far more than you could imagine, love.” 

You swallow. “I don't know. I don't trust you—”

“Smart,” he nods, drops the cigar on the ground before snuffing the end out with the heel of his boot. “But I ain't very patient. Better make up your mind quickly.”

“Well, in that case—”

“But," he cuts your scoff off with a low hum. "I'll put it this way for you: do you want me to be the one to accompany you across the desert or the one they'll pay, handsomely, tomorrow morning to drag you back home, mm?”

“You scoundrel—! You dirty, rotten—”

“It's business, love.”

“I don't have any money to even pay you to—”

His eyes are searing when they catch on the threads of your lace collar, razing over exposed skin like he's owed the privilege. You've never seen such hunger on a man's face before.

Your skin prickles. Heart sinking low with each rasping sweep of his eyes across your body. It's as if you're meat. Something to be bartered with. Bargained.

The rasp in his voice makes you shiver. “You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure something out.”

“I—”

“I'll leave it to you, then, mm?” He starts forward, then, chin ducking low into his collar to stare down at you through the wide brim of his hat. Each thud of his boots echo against the floor in haunting harmony with the metal clink of his spurs. 

More of his bulk is revealed as he steps out from the shadows and into the pale moonlight, and somewhere in your chest, the air becomes trapped. 

He's huge. Bigger, now, where most of him blended in, almost seamlessly, into the shadows. A massive mountain of a man. 

His shoulders seem to stretch the fabric of his vest and waistcoat taut, pulling sharply on the straining threads. The heavy brown of his jacket sweeps down to midthigh, the seam tucked behind the leather holster of his gun tied tight at his waist. The brass buttons of his dress shirt crease against the pull of his broad chest and barrelled stomach. The softness around his midsection speaks almost highly of a luxurious lifestyle—pure hedonism. The sort ladies back home whisper about. Violence, women, and booze—ruffians, the lot of them! But it seems to belie the power in his gait. In the flex of his thick, corded thighs bunching in the tightness of his denim trousers and the leather caps covering them.

He has the walk of a bear. Lumbering, sloven. A touch clumsy. 

And yet—

The softness about him hides the raw strength under the thick pelt. Deadly. The slow, meandering trawl of a man who knows, unequivocally, that he needn’t run or rush anywhere. 

It lodges somewhere inside of you. This knowledge, this fact. He'll outpace you in spades. Catch up no matter where you flee to. 

Your stomach folds, looping over itself. It's nausea, maybe. And something else—

He's so big. Burly. Thickened like the strong trucks of ponderosa pine. A man cut from the wilderness; made in the likeness of the savagery of the wild. The brutality of the desert, of mother nature herself. Kin to the affinity this land seems to have in taking every ounce of a man and leaving him bereft in the face of the looming unknowns in the vast desert.

None of the men you've ever met before look like him. Grizzled. Hardened.

His scarred, tanned skin speaks of a life living outdoors. On a horse, on the run—hard work made with his bare hands. You think the softness, the callous-free palm that gripped your fingers tight in a vice, and can't help but to lean, just a little, into him. Drawn there, like a moth to a flame.

There's something about this man that makes you tremble. Something that curls inside of your guts. Something deeper, darker than fear. Primal. Animalistic. There must be something wrong with you, then. Most know to run from the predators—not move closer.

He comes to a halt less than an arm's length away from you, close enough that you can scent the heavy musk of him so thickly in your nose. Something purely masculine—loam, humus—and yet unfathomably different from the men you've known your whole life. Horse, and sweat. Sun. The headiness of riding nonstop through the sprawling deserts of New Mexico. Leather, and gunpowder. 

The novelty of it all is enough to make you dizzy. And, as if to reinforce it, he leans down, the brim of his hat narrowly missing your forehead, and he rasps, guttural and dark, 

“and I do expect to be paid back in full, love,” his voice is felled timber. Low, and firm. “Or you'll find you don't like the consequences very much. Am I clear?”

The unmistakable iron in it snags on the tendrils of your resolve, pulling messily at the threads. No escape. It winds tighter, tighter— 

Still. 

Your only other option is to stay here, and in the morning, marry a man who made it abundantly clear that the sole use he has for you is to rebrand a dwindling legacy (women ought to be seen, not heard, darlin’, and I think it's high time someone teach you that); or— 

Make off on your own. Through the unmapped, untamed wilderness of New Mexico with nothing for protection except whatever you could reasonably steal away with uninterrupted, which. Isn't much. Not only that—this man, this outlaw, had made it abundantly clear that there would be a bounty on you come sunrise. One he'd be most eager to fulfil. 

Rock, hard place. No escape. 

You steel yourself, grappling with trembling fingers against the dwindling options in front of you, and offer a slow, jerking nod. 

He heaves a breath in response. “Good choice, love.”

It doesn't feel very much like one. It doesn't feel very good at all, even. 

In this little stable just outside of town, you sell your soul to the devil in New Mexico while the cicadas in the background scream through the ink black night. The sounds they make seem to ask, 

what have you done?

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck. 

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob. 

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder. 

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was. 

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house. 

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

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help. 

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look. 

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch. 

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again. 

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

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

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale. 

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison. 

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet. 

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now. 

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself. 

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches. 

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head. 

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot. 

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?" 

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

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

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[buckgasms]

Ok let's talk about Dark!Cowboy Bucky shall we......

Expect dark themes ahead y'all 🧡

Here's what I'm thinking:

He is a bounty hunter in the early days of the wild west and sadly you have a bounty out on you.

Maybe you were caught up in a crime but you are really innocent, but no one seems to care about a young woman, or the truth for that matter.

You already felt like the unluckiest person on earth, but when you overhear in a bar one night that the infamous bounty hunter Bucky Barnes is looking for a pretty little runaway, your stomach churns. And it hasn't stopped since.

🧭

Bucky hates the rain. It makes things so much harder. His horse is more grumpy and less willing to obey. People don't hang about to share tidbits of information. It's harder to get a drink.

However, it also makes his prey act silly. Especially pretty girls on the run. They aren't made for the rain. And they are so easy to spot, running across open fields in a dirty white dress, seeking shelter in a barn.

He chivves his horse onward, a wry smile on his face.

🧭

You are sitting on a bale of hay, wringing out your hair when you hear a horse approaching. Your blood runs cold as you hear the door open. You dash as quietly as you can into a dark corner and hold your breath as a man walks his horse in, talking to it gently as he guides it into a stall.

He removes his hat, gloves and shrugs off his wet coat.

"I know you're in his little darlin'"

Your eyes widen and you squeeze your arms tight to keep you from moving.

""If you come out now, it'll be easier. I'll put in a good word for ya..."

You debate it, but you can see him through a hole in the wood. And his face, however handsome, is plastered with a cruel smile. You don't believe him.

He huffs after a moment of silence. Looking around the barn, assessing how good it'll be for the night. He sits down and starts running a thin rope through his fingers.

"Gettin impatient now sweetheart... Don't like to be kept waitin..."

You shiver in the cold, your body dripping with sweat and rain. Maybe you could run out while he was distracted? You were pretty fast and you really had nothing to lose at this point.

You took a quiet, shuddering breath before dashing out from your hiding space. Despite feeling the wood of the barn door it was futile.

A tight, sharp object wrapped around your ankle and you felt the floor give way beneath you. You managed to roll over and watched as he dragged you backwards, pain tearing though your limbs as you were pulled along the floor.

"There you are" he mutters, pressing his boot onto your tummy, as he looks down at you. You suppose it would be to prevent you from fidgeting, but you are frozen in fear.

"My, my. Those wanted posters don't do you justice little darlin'. Don't quite capture that pretty face..."

You whimper as he kneels down, starting to wrap the rope around your other leg to tie you together, before looping it around your wrists.

"Please... Please sir I didn't do anything. It's a big mistake. Please...?"

He ties you off with a bow and chuckles. "Oh I know. I'm not as stupid as your neighbours, thinking a little flower like you could be involved in a bank robbery. Fuckin' dumb as hell..."

Your relief at his statement is short lived when he stands up and leaves you on the floor.

"Well then... Can't you help me? Let me go?" You wriggle and writhe, trying to keep him in your eyeline. Maybe he could be reasoned with?

He chuckles and sits himself on a bale. "Well I did think that, but there are two problems. First is that I've been chasing you for 5 days, in a storm and you've kinda pissed me off..."

You gulp, tears pricking at your eyes as he smiles at you.

"And the other problem is, now that I've gotcha, I don't think I wanna let you go."

You let out a shaky sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping as you have for many times in the past week, that this is all a dream. When you hear his boot scuff near your head you know it isn't. He kneels down next to you and takes your face gently between his hand and turns you to look at him.

"All I keep thinking is how I'm ready to retire, head up to my little cabin and have a pretty little housewife all to myself. Cook my dinners and have my babies hmm?"

Your eyes glisten as he talks, blurring vision as you begin to panic. You shake your head and mumble a weak 'no'. It makes him tut and squeeze your cheeks tighter.

"I know darlin', you're gonna fight me ain't ya? God knows you don't do anything the easy way huh? It's ok though. I'll have you convince by mornin'."

🧭

Convinced might be simplifying the situation, but by morning you are certainly not putting up a fight anymore.

Overnight as the storm raged outside he took you apart piece by piece. There was no part of your body that was now foreign to him.

He'd carefully removed your dress and kissed you all over. It was almost like a lover would. Sucking and biting gently at your soft skin, leaving marks all over you.

You shout and cry as loud as you can but he just smothers your cries with kisses. You tried to roll away, fight despite your bound state but he just chuckled and rolled you back where he wanted you.

He'd gotten very cross though when you tried to keep him from your heat. He'd had to find more rope to tie you open and spanked your heat until you were red and puffy.

"Wives aren't supposed to hide what belongs to their husbands darlin'. So don't you be hidin' from me..."

He resumed his gentler approach after, claiming your body with unexpected softness, kissing your tears away and praising you for taking him so well.

Hours passed and he barely relented. He let you rest a little, providing you with drink and a warm blanket. You slept when you could but were often woken by his lust, kisses and bites on your neck and chest.

"God you're beautiful yknow? So good for me... You gonna be my little housewife? Let me hide you away?"

He smiled wide when you nod. What else could you do?

I literally couldn't say no....

[act-nat-ural]

Something’s Different

When Shoyo had gotten back from his time in Brazil, he was… different. Yes, he had improved in his volleyball skills and had somehow gotten even more outgoing, but it wasn’t just that. He had changed… physically. He was significantly tanner than before, and if he lifted his arms the right way you could see his tan line peek out and tease you. He had also gotten a bit of a growth spurt, growing into himself. But what stood out to you the most? His muscles.

Currently, you two are supposed to be catching up after years apart, but you can't bring yourself to listen to a word he says. You watch entranced as his thighs flex as he bounces his leg, or his throat moves when he gulps down his drink, or when he moves his arms enthusiastically when he talks-

“Are you still listening?” He teases with a smile. Shit.

“Of course I am.” You chuckle and try to collect yourself. His eyes crinkle as he grins even wider and he rests his arms behind his head. Oh lord.

“Suuure. What's got you so distracted?” He asks curiously. You blink and try to come up with an excuse, face burning slightly, but he suddenly leans forward. You make a less-than-flattering sound and jump backwards.

“What the heck, Shoyo?!”

“You have something on your face. There!” He gives a cheeky grin and wipes a nonexistent crumb off your face. You blink, still flustered from his sudden movement. He’s laughing now, that carefree sound you remember so well, but there's something different in the way his eyes sparkle—more confident, teasing. You try to steady your breath, but it’s hard when your heart won’t stop racing.

“Y-You didn’t have to—”

“Just making sure you’re not too distracted, y'know?” he says, voice playful, but there's something else in his expression—something you can't quite place. "What’s going on with you? You’re acting a little… off."

"I’m fine," you mutter quickly, still trying to play it cool. But inside, you're completely off balance. You can't stop staring at his arms as he leans back again, the muscles there moving so effortlessly, his shirt stretching slightly. It’s a casual, carefree motion, but it makes your breath catch in your throat.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he knows something you don’t want him to know. "Uh-huh. Sure you are." His tone is light, but there’s that little bit of mischief in his eyes—like he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit something that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

You wish you could focus. You wish you could just relax and catch up with him, like you’d imagined for years. But instead, you're stuck in this loop where all your thoughts seem to orbit around him, around the way he’s changed. The way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks at you now.

"Come on," he says, breaking through your spiraling thoughts. He leans forward again, his eyes fixed on you with such intensity it’s almost like he's daring you to say what’s really on your mind. "Something's definitely up."

You swallow hard, nerves bubbling up. Your heart is pounding, and suddenly the room feels too small. It's just the two of you, but it feels like there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before. The time apart, the changes, all of it feels too much to process in one sitting.

Without thinking, you blurt, “You look different.”

He blinks, a flash of surprise in his eyes, and then he chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Is that so? I mean, I guess I did get a little taller and, uh, bulkier…” His grin widens, clearly proud of the changes, and you can’t help but notice the way his chest expands as he laughs.

But you’re not just talking about that. You’re talking about the way he carries himself, the confidence that’s oozing from him now, in a way that’s both familiar and new. He used to be all energy and charm, bouncing around and smiling like nothing could keep him down. Now, he’s grounded, somehow, with a quiet intensity that pulls you in even more.

"That's not what I mean," you say, your voice quieter this time, softer. You’re not sure if you want to say the words out loud, but they slip out anyway. "I mean… you’ve changed. In a way that’s more than just, well, physical.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, and for the first time since you’ve been sitting here, his playful grin falters just a little. He leans back again, but this time there’s a more thoughtful look on his face.

“I get it,” he says softly, nodding once. “I guess a lot has changed, huh?”

You nod in return, relieved that he seems to understand. But at the same time, you feel that knot in your stomach tightens. There’s something unspoken between you two now—something that neither of you has addressed, but you can both feel it hanging there, suspended in the air.

The conversation drifts, and for a moment, you both sit in silence. It’s a comfortable silence, though, one where the tension between you slowly starts to ease. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but eventually, you find yourself laughing at something he said, and his infectious grin returns.

But this time, when his eyes meet yours, there’s a new layer of warmth in them, something that wasn’t there before. And just like that, the world seems to fall into place again. You’re still nervous, still unsure of where this new version of him—of you—fits into everything. But for the first time since he came back, it feels like maybe things could work out after all. Shoyo shifts closer from across the table, resting his fingers against yours in a way that doesn’t feel like an accident. He’s still the same Shoyo you remember, but somehow, you feel like you're seeing him in a new light.

“You know,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, “I’m really glad we’re hanging out again. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches, but you turn to look at him, offering a small, shy smile. "I missed you too, Shoyo."

He grins back, his eyes softening. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe this isn’t just about catching up anymore. Maybe it’s about something more. He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he gives you a playful wink and leans in, just enough to make your heart skip. It’s a little daring, but you don’t pull away.

You have no idea where this is headed, but for once, you don’t really mind.

[alexanderwales]

There's a beautiful model of time travel called hypertime, which so far as I know was invented by qntm. You can read about it here.

The general idea is that there's an infinite stack of universes, possibly with a "prime" universe, each temporally offset from each other by some small amount (or just being continuous). You can imagine all of time on a chart where a properly sloped diagonal defines a specific time (e.g. January 1st, 2001), every horizontal line defines a single universe from its past to present, and every vertical line defines multiple universes that are "initially" arranged so that they're equivalent to "down" being backward in time and "up" being forward in time.

My plan was to write a fanfic of the NBC show Timeless using this model, rather than the one they use in the show. I see now that this was hugely more ambitious than Timeless ever deserved.

The big thing that keeps drawing me to this idea like a moth to flame is that there are cool things you can do with it. Here's one of them: a person goes to what they think of as "back in time", which is actually "down" on the time sheet, and ends up in a past that's different from the one they remember. How cool is that??

You intend to go to the past to see what's on Nixon's missing 18 minutes, and instead find yourself in a universe where the Nazis won WWII. And if you're operating under the assumption your time machine works like the one in Back to the Future, you're suddenly extremely confused. So you go back in time again, heading to just before the outbreak of WWII, and ... it's completely normal, with no sign that anyone has been monkeying around.

This is my white whale of a scene: the revelation that it all actually does make sense, the unfolding implications, the machinations of all the major time traveling factions and their goals.

I'm not actually sure that such a scene can be written in such a way that the majority of the audience would get it. Hypertime is hellish. Diagrams would help, but I'm not sure how much, especially because one of the things that (this subset of) hypertime assumes is some level of determinism and the inability to talk about "when" things happen except using reference frames.

As an added bonus, hypertime makes it possible to have diverse scenarios such that you can be wrong about how time travel works multiple times. You start out thinking that it's a stable time loop, you eventually see that contradicted and realize that it must be branching timelines, you see that contradicted and decide that it's ripple effect, and you see that contradicted and end up realizing that you're in this stupidly complicated hypertime setup. It has the potential to be the most complicated time travel story of all time. It has the potential to have the greatest number of explanations of time travel in a story, many of them incorrect.

I am at the point where I have an almost intuitive understanding of hypertime, but it took me drawing a lot of diagrams to get there, and I'm not sure I possess the writerly ability to explain it properly, especially if there are misdirects built into it.

A man can dream though.