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[mechaknight-98]

Sure Why Not? (NSFW) FT Sakurako Okubo

Operator��s Notes: Finally got around to writing a toku actress, and its best girl Hammie.

Dinoabareru tightened the hood of his jacket against the cool night air as he stepped into the bustling festival grounds. He’d only planned to pass through, maybe grab a few skewers of takoyaki and catch a glimpse of the lanterns glowing along the river. Yet, the vibrant energy of the crowd had pulled him in, and he found himself weaving through the stalls, captivated by the music and laughter filling the air.

As he reached for his wallet to pay for a matcha taiyaki, he heard a familiar, light laugh behind him. Turning around, he spotted a small group of fans gathered around a stall decorated with retro tokusatsu posters. His gaze landed on a young woman at the center of it all, her face framed by a radiant smile that seemed both familiar and surreal.

It was her. Sachika Nitaa.

He’d spent countless hours watching her take down villains and save the day, her character’s fearless attitude only matched by her cute energy. She’d starred as a hero in Zenkaiger, and even now, seeing her in person, she exuded the same infectious energy that had always captivated him on screen.

Dino’s mind raced, and he was about to turn back to his taiyaki to avoid making a fool of himself when Sachika’s eyes landed on him—and on his shirt. She blinked, recognition lighting up her face.

“Hey! Nice shirt!” she called out, nodding toward his Zenkaiger tee with a grin. “Good taste. You’re a fan, huh?”

Dino laughed, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. “Uh, yeah. I'm a huge fan, actually. Never thought I’d run into you or any cast member wearing it,” he replied, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

Sachika chuckled, stepping a little closer. “Well, what do you think? Do I look like a real-life hero?”

Dino was speechless, then managed, “Honestly… even cooler. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“Ah, flattery and a Zenkaiger shirt? You really know how to get on my good side,” she teased, eyes twinkling. “I’m Sachika, by the way. But something tells me you already knew that.”

“Dinoabareru,” he replied, gathering his courage to extend a hand. “But you can call me Dino.”

She took his hand with a smile that felt both natural and electric. “Well, Dino, you want to show me around? I could use a festival buddy.”

Dino smiled and said, “Sure why not?”

They strolled through the festival side by side, her laughter and warmth making each moment feel like a scene from one of his favorite shows. As they shared stories and challenges over festival games, Dino couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was the start of something unforgettable. Sachika or “Sachi” as she liked to be called found herself bumping in and “accidentally” touching Dino throughout their time together. By the time it was time for him to go Dino was smitten, but honestly, Sachi was easy to fall for with her big eyes expressive voice, and charming personality.

As Dino was getting ready to leave Sachi said, “Hey wanna see a kamen rider set tomorrow?”

“Sure why not?”

Dino arrived on set the next day, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy as he navigated the bustling filming environment. He spotted Sachi in the makeup chair, her hair styled to perfection, with a warm, radiant smile lighting up her face as she caught sight of him.

“I’m so happy you made it!” she called out, her eyes sparkling as she took in his slightly out-of-place awe at the production setup.

Dino grinned, feeling a bit bashful. “Yeah, they let me in after I said I was your guest. Guess you’re a pretty big deal around here.”

Sachi chuckled, leaning in a little. “Oh, you know me. Just your everyday superhero.” She winked, reaching out to brush a bit of lint off his shirt. “You clean up pretty well, Dino. Maybe you’re the one stealing the show today?”

He laughed, his cheeks warming. “Me? Steal the spotlight from the great Sachi Nitaa? Not a chance.”

As they shared an easy smile, the director, an intense older man with a sharp eye for detail, happened to pass by. He froze mid-step, his gaze zeroing in on Dino as if struck by a sudden inspiration.

“You there! You, the tall guy!” he called out, his tone both jarring and full of conviction.

Dino blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh… me?” he asked, glancing around to be sure.

“Yes, you!” The director’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I knew I was looking for someone just like you. You’d make a perfect Rider!”

Dino glanced at Sachi, who gave him an encouraging nod and mouthed, “Go for it.” Intrigued, Dino shrugged and said, “Sure… why not?”

Before he knew it, he was being whisked off to hair and makeup, where they worked quickly to get him camera-ready. Luckily, another member of the crew was experienced with lighting for darker skin tones, ensuring he looked his best on screen. He emerged a short while later, dressed in sleek, tailored clothing that fit the mysterious vibe they seemed to want for his character.

As he walked back to the set, the director caught up with him, pulling him aside to explain the role. “Alright, listen up. This series is called Kamen Rider Evo. The premise? A mad scientist pits Kamen Riders against each other, each with unique abilities. You’ll play ‘King,’ the scientist’s first-built Rider. Your powers are based on flight, agility, and intelligence. Your motif is darkness and Dragons. King acts as a neutral party—he’s not purely good or bad, but powerful and calculating. You’re the one other Riders either look up to or fear.”

Dino raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Sounds intense. So, King’s kinda… a wildcard?”

“Exactly!” the director said, clapping him on the shoulder. “King has his agenda, and everyone knows he can’t be easily controlled. You’ve got the look, the presence—just channel that, and you’ll be great.”

As the director moved on to handle other preparations, Sachi sauntered over, looking him up and down with an approving grin. “King, huh?” she teased. “I could get used to that.”

Dino laughed, giving her a playful bow. “Then maybe you should address me with a little more respect, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she replied with a mock curtsy, her smile flirtatious. She leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Just remember, I outrank you in real life.”

Dino smirked, holding her gaze. “Guess I’ll have to work hard to catch up.”

Sachi’s laugh was soft and genuine. “Well, maybe I’ll give you some acting tips… if you can keep up with me.”

They shared a moment, their playful banter easing any lingering nerves Dino had. As the crew prepared for the next scene, Sachi gave him an encouraging pat on the arm, her eyes twinkling. “Good luck, King. I’ll be watching from the sidelines—and don’t worry, I’ll be cheering you on.”

Feeling more confident than ever, Dino squared his shoulders. “Thanks, Sachi. With you rooting for me, I think I’ve got this.”

With a shared smile, he took his place on set, ready to step into the role of King. And as the cameras rolled, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this whole thing—meeting Sachi, being pulled onto set—was the beginning of something exciting.

They pushed Dino onto the set where the other Riders were waiting in costume, ready to shoot the next scene. Dino took his place in the corner, watching as the director set the stage. He noticed he hadn’t been given a script—just a few character notes and a brief rundown from the director. It was clear this was a test to see how he’d embody the character on the fly.

The director called out, “And… action!”

Dino observed as Sachika and her co-star Sakurako Okubo started their argument. He could feel the tension building between their characters, each line delivered with fierce conviction. Sachika’s character, always confident and a bit reckless, stood her ground as Sakurako’s character, more reserved but intense, glared at her with growing frustration.

“Look, you think this mission is some kind of game,” Sakurako’s character spat, her voice tight with anger. “You’re putting us all at risk with your recklessness!”

Sachika rolled her eyes, a dismissive smirk playing on her lips. “Maybe if you could keep up, we wouldn’t have to take so many risks. Ever think of that?”

Sakurako narrowed her eyes, fists clenched. “I don’t know why you think this is a joke, but some of us are here to protect, not to show off.”

As the argument escalated, the director nodded subtly in Dino’s direction, signaling for him to make his entrance.

Dino strode forward, his posture calm yet commanding. He switched briefly to English, adding a touch of flair to his entry. “Ladies,” he greeted with a smooth, authoritative tone, then seamlessly returned to Japanese. “What seems to be the problem?”

Sachika and Sakurako both turned, startled, but where Sakurako’s character looked momentarily shaken, Sachika’s character recovered quickly. Sakurako felt a weird burning sensation in her chest but was also captivated by the way Dino moved through the scene. He drew attention not because of his stature or skin tone but the way he moved and talked. It was purposeful and decisive but could adjust and adapt.

“King?” Sachika asked, her tone guarded yet laced with curiosity. “What are you doing here?”

Dino raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of humor and mild disapproval. “I was in the area. Thought I’d check up on you two.” He paused, glancing pointedly between them. “You know how the Doctor likes his reports on you all.”

Sakurako, regaining her composure, crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at him.

"And you are?" Sakurako questioned pointed

Dino spun around to her his eyes narrowed as he spoke and his voice took on a surprising level of menace no one expected “King, the Doctor’s First Rider… and you’d better watch that tone,” He warned,

Sakurako stared coldly her voice more. “I don’t much appreciate being talked down to.”

King tilted his head, his expression shifting from mild amusement to something darker, almost menacing. “Is that so?” he replied, his voice dropping to a soft, dangerous tone that sent a chill through the room. “Watch that attitude, little one. You’re not the only one with a purpose here, and I don't think your bark matches your bite.”

He let the words hang in the air, the quiet menace in his tone compelling even the crew watching to hold their breath. But in an instant, his expression softened, and he turned back to Sachika with a lighter, almost teasing smile.

“Please, ladies, take care of yourselves,” he said, the warmth returning to his voice. “We have so much left to accomplish.”

He gave a small bow, his eyes lingering on Sachika’s character, then pivoted smoothly and exited the scene.

As the director called “Cut!” Sakurako glanced at Sachika, both of them a bit stunned by Dino’s seamless performance. She nudged Sachika with a grin. “Not bad for someone they just pulled in off the street, huh?”

Sachika nodded, impressed. “Yeah, I think he might actually have a knack for this. Did you see the way he switched from charm to… whatever that was?”

Sakurako laughed, lowering her voice as Dino walked back over. “Oh, I saw. You’re sure he’s a guest and not secretly a pro?”

Sachika smirked, glancing at Dino’s way as he approached. “Guess I just know how to pick ‘em.” She raised her voice so Dino could hear. “Nice work, King. Think you’re ready for another scene?”

Dino grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Anytime, ladies.” He dipped his head, giving them a mischievous look. “Just don’t get too comfortable—I might start stealing the show.”

The three of them shared a laugh, and as they moved on to the next take, the energy between them felt natural, charged with a new dynamic. Dino’s chemistry with both Sachika and Sakurako added depth to his character, leaving everyone on set eager to see how he’d evolve in the next scene.

After Dino’s scene wrapped, the Director motioned for him to come over, his eyes bright with a mix of excitement and intensity. He led Dino to a quieter corner of the set where a few of the creative team members were gathered, several of whom were already discussing his impromptu performance.

“Dino,” the Director began, nodding in approval, “you did well. Better than well, actually. But I want you to really understand this character—and this season.” He gestured for Dino to sit as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, as though sharing a secret. “This isn’t just any season of Kamen Rider. It’s the anniversary season, and we’re pushing boundaries with it.”

Dino raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Anniversary season? So, like, bringing in references from past seasons?”

“Exactly,” the Director replied. “We’re drawing on elements that fans know and love, and giving them something that will feel familiar yet fresh. But with King, we’re tapping into a specific theme that has defined some of the most powerful, dangerous Riders in the series.” He leaned back, studying Dino. “Are you familiar with what we call the ‘berserk’ forms?”

Dino’s mind instantly went to some of the most intense Riders he’d seen—those transformations where the hero becomes more monstrous, pushed to the brink by the raw power of the suit. “Yeah… like the skeletal dragon form in Saber? Or Ark-One from Zero-One?” he ventured, watching the Director’s expression.

The Director’s eyes lit up. “Precisely. Those forms that Riders can barely control, the ones that threaten to consume them. These forms are powerful but volatile. They symbolize the darkness and chaos that lie just beneath the surface—a side of the hero that isn’t fully within their control. This season, we’re building King around that motif.”

“King’s motif is the dragon,” he continued, leaning forward. “A symbol of strength, wisdom, but also raw, untamed power. The dragon embodies that dangerous line between control and chaos. King is the first Rider the Doctor created—a prototype that was never meant to be contained. He doesn’t follow the same rules as the other Riders. In many ways, he’s their shadow, a force they admire but can’t quite trust.”

Dino nodded, the picture becoming clearer. “So, he’s more of an anti-hero? Like, he doesn’t fit into the traditional hero mold?”

“Exactly,” the Director said, his eyes intense. “King was created with powers that push him beyond what the others can handle. His berserk form, his dragon form, is something that even the Doctor can’t fully control. Think of him as a walking test for the other Riders. They see his power and think, ‘Could that happen to me?’ And King knows this—he’s aware of the danger he represents.”

The Director leaned back, gesturing with his hands to paint the vision of the character. “Throughout the season, King will have moments of alignment with the heroes, but he’s always on the edge of slipping into that berserk state. His relationship with them is complex—there’s a level of respect, but he’s a reminder of what they could become if they lose control.”

One of the producers chimed in. “We’re taking visual cues from the iconic berserk forms,” she explained, showing Dino a concept art sheet. There was King, his armor dark and jagged, with fierce dragon motifs running along his chest plate and a skeletal dragon claw design on one gauntlet. His eyes glowed an eerie, almost hypnotic red. “Fans love that duality—the hero’s fear of his own power. So with King, we wanted to embody that fully.”

Dino took it all in, feeling the weight of the character settle over him. “So… King’s almost like a dark mirror for the other Riders?”

The Director nodded, satisfied. “Exactly. He’s their worst fear and a cautionary tale. This season will explore the Riders’ relationship to power—how much they can handle before it consumes them. King represents that line between hero and monster, reminding them that it’s a fine line indeed. And with his dragon theme, he has both the nobility and the fury of the myth.”

Dino let out a low whistle, already feeling a connection to the character. “I think I get it. King isn’t just a Rider—he’s a test, for them and for himself. Every time he steps into that power, he’s risking losing a part of himself.”

“Exactly,” the Director said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Channel that. Remember, King is never truly safe, even from himself. And the audience will love it because, deep down, they know what’s coming.”

As the team moved to prepare the next scene, Dino stood, feeling the full weight of King’s character. He was more than ready to step into the role, bringing to life a Rider who wasn’t just powerful, but a reminder that every hero carries a shadow—and sometimes, the greatest battle is with the one within.

As the crew reset the cameras and prepared for the next shot, the Director pulled Dino aside once more, his expression focused yet eager.

“Alright, Dino,” he began, folding his arms as he explained the next scene. “This time, we’re throwing you into a fight sequence—against the two major antagonists of the season.”

Dino’s eyebrows shot up, a grin spreading across his face. “Already? No warm-up fight or anything?”

The Director laughed. “No warm-up for King. The Doctor’s first creation, after all—he’s not someone who backs down. Think of this as King testing them, figuring out their strengths and weaknesses as he plays with them.”

Dino nodded, starting to visualize the scene. “Alright, so what do you need from me? I’ve got some experience in stage combat, but nothing as intense as Kamen Rider.”

“That’s perfect,” the Director said, clapping his hands. “We actually want to see what you do naturally. King isn’t a polished, predictable fighter—he’s a force of nature. What we want to capture here is a rough, almost primal approach to combat. Think of it as a King unleashing his power without caring much for form or finesse. Every move should be efficient, brutal, and with a certain… wildness.”

The Director motioned toward the stunt team, who were preparing the set with mats and safety gear. “In this first take, just go in and react. Show us what King’s instinctive fighting style looks like. We want to build a physical language for King—a movement style that’s uniquely his, something that says ‘dragon’ without being too obvious.”

Dino took a deep breath, already feeling the character’s energy building within him. “So, like a dragon—powerful but unpredictable?”

“Exactly. King doesn’t just attack; he overwhelms. Imagine him watching his opponents, sizing them up like prey. When he strikes, it’s with total commitment, no hesitation,” the Director said, demonstrating with his hands. “And then we’ll work with the suit actor to carry that physicality into King’s Rider form.”

Dino nodded, visualizing the raw, instinctive movements the Director was describing. “Got it. So, I’m aiming for something primal, controlled, but with that ‘edge’ where it could go berserk at any moment?”

“Exactly,” the Director replied, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Remember, the antagonists are strong too, but they’re strategists. Your job as King is to push them off balance, and keep them reacting to you, not the other way around. You’re in control—at least, for now.”

One of the fight choreographers approached with a few pointers. “For the first run, focus on power over precision. We’re looking for broad, sweeping strikes, but every hit should feel like it’s meant to end the fight. And don’t hold back on the intensity. We want to see how much physicality you bring before we fine-tune anything.”

Dino took a deep breath and nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling up. This was unlike anything he’d done before, and he could feel the thrill of embodying a character who fought with such raw power. As he stepped onto the set, he saw the two actors playing the antagonists take their places, each of them sizing him up with a mix of amusement and challenge.

“Alright, Dino,” the Director called out, his voice filled with anticipation. “Let’s see what King can do.”

The two other actors were already in their Kamen Rider suits which worried Dino at first but he decided to listen to the director.

"So you challenge me?" Dino said slowly before running towards one of the adversaries. He shoulder-charged him careful not to hit the stunt actor and as he fell Dino caught him before headbutting him on the floor. Following this Dino turned to his other opponent and did a flashy roundhouse kick that caused the other person to roll to the ground with a practice grace. This led to the two opponents creating space for Dino and he said,

"you dare challenge me I am the original god of destruction. You all are a pale imitation a simulation of me."

Dino's tone and inflection sent chills through the Cast and Crew who were present. Rako found herself attracted to how well Dino fell into his role and made her proud of him despite their only recent meeting. The crew watches as Dino throws up his Bahamut rider medal and starts his transformation sequence. The producers watched in awe as Dino did a cross between Kamen rider Black Sun, and Ryuki's transformation poses before he yelled Henshin with the menace of a Rider killer. The director cuts and the crew is stunned. He approaches Dino and says, "That was perfect how did you know to do all that? each move felt like it was taken out of the annals of all of Tokusatsu's history."

Dino shrugged as he explained, "Well that was the goal. I wanted to incorporate Ultraman, and a little Super Sentai as well. So I threw in a couple of moves from Ultraman Orb's fighting style and AbareKiller's style."

The director turned to the producers and they knew that he needed to be a reoccurring character. after that scene Dino, Sachi, and Rako as she liked to be called were all going through hair and makeup figuring out their next move.

Sachi turned to Dino and asked, "Hey you wanna grab some food?"

Dino shrugged as he said once again, "Sure why not?"

The three of them settled into a cozy corner booth at a local cafe, the hum of conversation and the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. Sakurako had insisted they try this spot, saying it was her go-to between shoots, and judging by the friendly waves from the staff, she was a regular.

Dino stirred a sugar cube into his coffee, glancing around. “Feels a little surreal, you know? Just yesterday I was watching you two on screen, and now here we are, having coffee like we’re old friends.”

Sachi chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “It’s not as glamorous as it seems, is it? Just three people trying to keep awake for the next scene.”

Sakurako sipped her iced latte, eyes sparkling with curiosity as she looked over at Dino. “So, Dinoabareru… Did I get that right? How’d you end up here, in all of this?”

Dino smiled, a little bashful. “Honestly? It’s kind of a whirlwind. I only came to Japan recently, and I never thought I’d find myself on a Kamen Rider set. I grew up watching tokusatsu shows, so it feels like I’m living a dream. Guess the director just saw something in me.”

Sakurako exchanged an amused glance with Sachi. “Well, that ‘something’ must be pretty special. It’s rare for him to pull in someone out of nowhere.”

Sachi nudged Dino, laughing. “Yeah, you just have that ‘hero energy.’ The kind of guy who jumps headfirst into anything without a second thought.”

Dino laughed. “I guess that’s fair. My friends back home would call it being a little reckless.” He took a sip of his coffee, then asked, “What about you two? How did you get into acting?”

Sachi’s eyes softened as she thought back. “I guess I was one of those kids who always loved performing, even if it was just for my family. When I got older, I was lucky enough to land some roles, and it just snowballed from there. Tokusatsu really was the dream role, though. My inner child was thrilled to be in Zenkaiger.”

Dino smiled, nodding. “That explains the energy you bring to your characters. It’s like you’re really having fun.”

Sakurako grinned, leaning forward. “For me, it was all about kicking down doors, literally and figuratively. I grew up watching these shows, and I wanted to be a hero so badly. When I finally landed a role, I felt like I’d made it.” She glanced over at Dino. “So, do you have any plans now that you’re in this world? Sticking around?”

Dino shrugged, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’m honestly still figuring that out. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface here, and this chance is something I’d never want to take for granted. But yeah, if I could make a career out of this… well, let’s just say I’d be over the moon.”

Sakurako leaned back, her fingers tapping the edge of her glass thoughtfully. “It’s tough, you know. Long hours, intense training, the pressure to keep up with fans’ expectations… But if you love it, it’s worth it.”

“Especially when you work with people who support you,” Sachi added, smiling warmly. “Like today, when you just jumped into that fight scene. You really made the character your own.”

Dino’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Honestly, I was just trying not to make a fool of myself. But working with you both made it easy. I felt like you were right there with me, helping me find my footing.”

Sakurako raised her glass. “Here’s to new friends, then! And to King—may he have many more epic scenes.”

They clinked glasses, laughter filling the air. As they settled back, Dino felt a sense of belonging he hadn’t anticipated. As they relaxed Dino felt Sakurako's eyes linger on him. her gaze was focused but intense like a star. Dino found it strangely comforting.

Later that evening, Sachi, Dino, and Sakurako found themselves strolling through the city streets, their laughter and easy conversation filling the air. Sachi walked between them, but she couldn’t help noticing the way Dino and Sakurako exchanged glances whenever the other wasn’t looking, or how they seemed to lean slightly closer as they talked.

Sachi smirked, slowing her steps just a little, letting the two fall slightly ahead of her. As they passed a street vendor, she took the opportunity to drop back even further, leaving Dino and Sakurako walking side-by-side in the soft glow of the street lamps.

"So, you two look good together,” she said, letting the words slip out casually as they stopped by a bench.

Dino and Sakurako turned to her, a little too quickly, and both started speaking at once.

“Huh? No, we’re just—”

“We’re just chatting! I mean, friends, right?”

Sachi folded her arms, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Right, ‘friends.’ You know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize when there’s a little spark.”

Dino scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at Sakurako. “Come on, Sachi. We just met. Besides, I doubt I’d be her type anyway.” He laughed, though it sounded a bit uncertain.

Sakurako looked down, her cheeks faintly pink. “Sachi, you’re making it sound like… like I…” She trailed off, suddenly bashful. “We’re just colleagues.”

“Colleagues?” Sachi said, giving them both a sly grin. “Alright, alright. But I’ll say this—you don’t look at all your colleagues that way, do you, Rako?”

Sakurako’s face reddened, and she gave a small, nervous laugh. “Well… he is different, I’ll admit. There’s something kind of refreshing about him.”

Dino turned to Sakurako, eyes widening. “Really?”

Sachi beamed, delighted with her matchmaking efforts so far. “See, I knew it! Okay, look. We’re all done for the day, right? So why don’t you two go grab some food or something? I actually have to get up early tomorrow,” she lied, clearly trying to give them an out.

Dino blinked, caught off guard. “You’d be okay with that, Sachi?”

Sachi laughed. “Of course! Look, I’m not going to get in the way of some fun bonding time. I know chemistry when I see it.”

Sakurako looked at Dino, then back at Sachi. “Are you really leaving us alone?”

“Absolutely. I think you two need it. Besides,” she added with a wink, “sometimes the best scenes happen off-camera.”

As Sachi left, waving them off, Dino turned to Sakurako, his heart pounding a little harder than he expected. “So… still up for grabbing a bite?”

Sakurako’s eyes sparkled, her earlier shyness replaced by a soft smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As Sachi waved them off and disappeared around the corner, Dino and Sakurako found themselves alone on the bustling evening street. An electric silence settled between them, and both seemed to sense that this moment, somehow, was different from their usual conversations on set.

“Alright,” Dino said with a lopsided smile, breaking the silence. “So, what’s your favorite kind of food? Since we’re out here, might as well go for something good.”

Sakurako’s eyes lit up, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. “Hmm… I’m actually in the mood for ramen. There’s this small shop around the corner that’s incredible. It’s not fancy, but they make everything from scratch, and it’s open late.”

“Ramen it is, then,” Dino replied, eager for an excuse to spend more time with her.

They strolled to the ramen shop, the low hum of the city providing a comfortable backdrop. As they took their seats, Sakurako started talking about her early days as an actress, how she’d gone through hundreds of auditions, each rejection a stepping stone that had finally led her to roles like the one she was playing now. Dino listened, nodding and asking questions, genuinely curious about her journey.

“And what about you?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand as she looked across the table at him. “What’s your story? How’d you end up on set today?”

Dino chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not exactly a trained actor, that’s for sure. I just came to meet Sachi, honestly. Then, the next thing I knew, the director’s throwing me into costume and calling me ‘King.’ It’s surreal, but… kind of amazing too.”

“I have to say, you pulled it off really well,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “It didn’t seem like it was your first time on camera. There was this… natural intensity to you.”

Dino shifted slightly, the compliment hitting harder than he’d expected. “Thanks. I guess I just imagined myself in the role and let go of everything else. But you make it sound like it was something special.”

She looked at him earnestly, nodding. “It was. You really brought something unique to the character, even in such a short time.”

Just then, their bowls of ramen arrived, and they both eagerly dove in, the warmth of the broth adding to the cozy atmosphere between them. For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable silence, exchanging small smiles across the table.

After they’d finished, Sakurako leaned back, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have to admit, it’s kind of refreshing spending time with someone who didn’t expect to be here. Sometimes, the industry can make you feel… boxed in. Like you’re always playing a part.”

Dino nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s why I think I’ve never really considered acting as a career. You know, that fear of losing yourself in a role or feeling like you’re just… wearing a mask all the time.”

Sakurako’s gaze softened as she looked at him. “But isn’t it kind of freeing, too? You get to step outside of yourself and see the world through someone else’s eyes. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Dino smiled, realizing how much he was starting to appreciate her perspective. “When you put it that way, it sounds kind of amazing.”

Sakurako seemed to take a deep breath before speaking again, her voice a little more tentative this time. “So… would you do it again? You know, acting?”

Dino considered her question, his gaze drifting to the street outside as he thought about the thrill of embodying King, of becoming something larger than life. But as he glanced back at her, he realized that a big part of his answer came down to moments like this—connecting, learning, finding something meaningful in someone else’s company.

“Yeah,” he said finally, meeting her eyes. “I think I would.”

There was a charged pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Sakurako bit her lip, her gaze flicking down for just a moment before she looked back up at him. “I’m glad to hear that, Dino. And… I’m glad we met, even if it was by chance.”

Dino’s heart raced as he felt the pull between them grow stronger, and before he could second-guess himself, he reached across the table, his hand brushing gently against hers.

Sakurako’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she smiled, her fingers curling around his.

They stayed like that, hands intertwined, in the soft glow of the ramen shop, a silent promise forming between them—of more shared moments, of untold stories, and perhaps, of something even deeper than either of them had imagined. When Dino looked at her though her eyes held a hunger that unlocked a door in him that held a unique ferocity to it. Sakurako found this look intense but it unlocked a part of her she didn't know she had.

She felt a warmth in her abdomen as her body rebelled against her, and the two found themselves in a torrid kiss. After they finished up at the restaurant the couple raced to Dino’s “apartment” As soon as he closed the door they were all over each other. Dino started Kissing Rako but as the heat intensified between them he found himself and his mouth hovering around her neck kissing. Rako felt the burning sensation in her abdomen reach a fever pitch, then ripped her shirt off and yelled “fuck me while you suck my tits,” Rako moaned as Dino latched onto her breast as she slowly stripped Dino of his.

“Fuck you like my tits,”

“Oh fuck your tongue feels so good,”

“I can feel you throbbing,”

“Fuck put it in” Sakurako heaved as Dino buried his cock inside of her. Dino flips Sakurako over and relentlessly starts spanking her ass as he watches it jiggle while he pounds her. Rako moans.

“Fuck! Your cock is tearing my insides up, keep going.” Rako says in between moans. Dino nods as he yanks Rako up and brings her in for another kiss Rako finds her tongue invading Dino’s mouth causing Dino to bite then tip gently. Rako moaned as Dino's hands wandered her chest and ass as he continued to pound her. "Fuck." she moans as his rod digs into her cavern.

"keep going." Rako demands, and Dino speeds up causing Sakurako to cum.

"Oh fuck" she repeats as Dino reduces her to a fuck doll while he chases his release. As her mind turns to mush all she can focus on is how his cock is warping her insides to his girth.

"Fuck use me." Sakurako moans as she nears another climax. Dino continues to ravage Rako until cums inside her causing to have another orgasm. The two bask in the afterglow before Sakurako gets up.

"Okay so what are we?" she asks pointedly

Dino shrugs and says, " I am not sure. Since...Well this is the farthest I have ever gone with a girl before."

Sakurako's eyes widened then she said, "You were a virgin?"

Dino nods and apologizes for any sloppiness that might have occurred. Sakurako dismisses his reservations at once. The couple falls asleep shortly after that little chat.

The next morning, Dino stirred awake, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through his curtains. He glanced over to find Sakurako still curled up beside him, her hair slightly tousled and a peaceful expression on her face. With a soft smile, he gently shifted, careful not to wake her as he got ready. A short while later, she joined him, rubbing sleep from her eyes as they got ready to head out.

Together, they made their way to Mrs. Okubo’s place, where Dino waited as Sakurako dashed inside to change into some new clothes for the day Hi. After a few minutes, she rejoined him, looking bright and refreshed. They wandered through the streets, eventually stopping at a cozy breakfast spot where they shared a simple but satisfying meal of miso soup, grilled fish, and rice.

As they ate, they chatted about their plans for the day, the ease between them growing more natural and playful. Sakurako found herself laughing at Dino’s quick wit and warm sense of humor, and Dino couldn’t help but be charmed by her genuine, grounded nature.

Soon enough, they arrived at the studio, where Sachika was waiting with an expectant grin. She took one look at the two of them and smirked. “Well, well, if it isn’t the lovebirds,” she teased, crossing her arms and giving them a knowing look.

Sakurako rolled her eyes, but a faint blush crept over her cheeks. “It’s way too early for your dramatics, Sachi.”

Dino chuckled, giving Sachi a small salute. “Morning, Captain.”

Sachi laughed and then motioned for them to follow her. “Alright, come on, Mr. ‘Dragon.’ Let’s get you geared up for the season.” She led them down the hallway to wardrobe, where a team of costume designers and assistants were waiting with Dino’s outfits and gear for his character. He tried on several costumes, each one tailored to fit the image of “King,” the powerful, slightly unpredictable character he’d be playing.

Sakurako couldn’t help but admire him as he stepped out in each new costume, her eyes trailing over the details of his outfits, the way they accentuated his imposing presence. She gave him tips on adjusting his movements in the heavier armor and offered a quiet but encouraging thumbs-up whenever he seemed unsure. Sachi watched the two of them with an amused smile, clearly enjoying the chemistry that had blossomed between them.

In between costume changes, Sachi leaned over to Dino with a raised brow. “So, how long are you in Japan for, anyway?”

“Oh, one year,” he replied casually as he adjusted the cuff on a dark, regal-looking jacket.

“One year?” Sakurako glanced over in surprise, unable to hide her curiosity. “Did you get work out here?”

“Nope, it’s just an extended vacation,” he explained, a small smile playing on his lips. “I write comic books and have five graphic novels that sold decently back in the States, so now I have the chance to take it easy for a bit.”

Sakurako blinked, her mouth slightly open in surprise, while Sachika just let out a low whistle. “Huh, there’s always something new with you, isn’t there?” Sakurako remarked, clearly impressed.

Dino shrugged, giving a modest grin. “It’s been a fun ride. I like telling stories that mean something to people, you know? And hey, if it means I get to hang out in Japan for a year, even better.”

Sachika grinned, giving Sakurako a knowing look. “Sounds like you two are going to have a very interesting year.”

“Don’t start, Sachi,” Sakurako warned, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. She turned back to Dino, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So what kind of stories do you write? I mean, if you’re here for a whole year, we might as well get to know the guy under the Rider suit.”

Dino chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Well, it’s mostly action and fantasy. I love exploring character journeys, like what people go through when faced with really tough choices. My latest one was about a hero who doesn’t realize he’s being manipulated by the very people he thought were his allies.”

Sachika nudged Sakurako, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Sounds like your kind of story, Rako. You love that deep, emotional stuff.”

“Hey, I can appreciate a good story arc!” Sakurako protested, laughing as she lightly shoved Sachi.

As they shared another laugh, Dino felt a warmth in his chest, realizing just how comfortable he’d become around them. And as he looked at Sakurako, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this “extended vacation” might be the best decision he’d ever made.

Later that afternoon, as the three of them wrapped up for the day and headed out of the studio, Sachika was practically bouncing with excitement, her face lit up with a mischievous smile.

“Hey, you two!” she called, catching up to Dino and Sakurako. They turned to see her grinning like she was up to something.

“What’s up, Sachi?” Sakurako asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“So,” Sachi began, drawing out the word as she rocked on her heels, “how would you two feel about going to a Le Sserafim concert with me?”

Dino raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wait, you’re serious? Like Le Sserafim Le Sserafim?”

Sachi nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I got tickets from Sakura herself—she’s an old friend of mine from a few years back.” She leaned in closer, her tone conspiratorial. “I was going to go with a few other people, but they bailed last minute, so I figured, why not take you two lovebirds?”

Sakurako flushed, rolling her eyes at the nickname, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, that does sound pretty fun,” she admitted, glancing over at Dino. “What do you think?”

Dino grinned, giving Sachi a thumbs-up. “Sure Why Not?”

“Perfect!” Sachi clapped her hands together, practically giddy. “It’ll be a blast. I’ll meet you two at the concert venue later, yeah?”

That evening, the trio found themselves standing in the packed crowd of the concert hall, surrounded by the buzz of anticipation as fans cheered, holding light sticks and banners for Le Sserafim. Dino glanced around, taking it all in, the energy of the crowd already getting him pumped. Beside him, Sakurako looked equally thrilled, her eyes bright as she took in the atmosphere.

As the lights dimmed, the stage lit up with vibrant colors, and Le Sserafim appeared, the crowd erupting in cheers. The music started, the bass thumping through the floor, and Dino found himself getting swept up in the energy.

Halfway through the show, Sachi nudged them both, leaning in to shout over the music, “Come on, you two! Dance with me!”

Sakurako laughed, letting herself get pulled into the rhythm of the music, and Dino joined in, moving to the beat alongside her. As they danced, Sakurako shot Dino a playful grin, grabbing his hand to spin him around. He laughed, spinning her back, and they found themselves locked in a gaze that felt electric, the flashing lights of the concert amplifying the spark between them.

The music shifted to a slower beat, and without thinking, Dino placed his hands on her waist as she rested hers on his shoulders, swaying with him in time. They danced close, neither of them pulling away, and the unspoken tension between them grew with every beat. Sakurako’s cheeks were flushed, and she bit her lip, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re pretty smooth, you know that?” she teased, looking up at him.

Dino grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’ve got my moments.”

As the song ended and the stage lights dimmed, the two pulled back, still caught up in each other’s presence. Sachi watched from the side, looking thoroughly amused as she leaned over and whispered, “I knew you two would hit it off.”

After the concert, Sachi led them backstage, where they met up with Le Sserafim. Sakura greeted Sachi with a big hug, her smile warm as she introduced the group. Kazuha’s eyes lit up as she spotted Dino, recognizing him instantly.

“Dino! It’s been a while since Coachella!” Kazuha said, her eyes bright with excitement.

Dino grinned, giving her a quick hug. “Kazuha! Good to see you again! I didn’t know you’d remember me.”

“Are you kidding? You’re unforgettable,” she laughed, nudging him.

Sakurako’s gaze flicked between Dino and Kazuha, her brow furrowing slightly as she watched the easy rapport between them. Trying not to look too obvious, she settled herself beside Dino on the couch, crossing her legs and subtly placing her hand on his, her fingers gently tracing small circles on the back of his hand. The gesture was quiet but unmistakably possessive, her silent way of making her claim.

Dino glanced down, feeling the soft touch of her fingers, and when he looked back up, he caught her gaze, a smile tugging at his lips. Kazuha seemed to notice too, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile, clearly amused by Sakurako’s subtle display.

Sachi chuckled, nudging Sakurako. “Guess you’ve got your claws in him already, huh?”

Sakurako just gave a small, satisfied smile, glancing sideways at Dino. “Maybe,” she replied, her tone light yet undeniably pleased.

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, sharing stories, and laughing over past experiences. The connection between Dino and Sakurako was unmistakable, and even with Kazuha’s friendly teasing, it was clear to everyone that Sakurako’s quiet claim was solid and unshakable. As they headed out that night, Sakurako and Dino walked side-by-side, a comfortable silence settling between them, both feeling that something special had quietly but firmly taken root.

"So do you wanna be together ?" Rako asked hesitantly.

Dino smiled and said, "Sure Why Not?"

[terramythos]

I Score FFXIV Fishing Titles (based on how fucking cool or fun they sound).

Note: I am NOT including titles that you can earn on any Disciple of the Hand job; this is only for titles you HAVE to be a fisher in order to earn. Also, sorry if I missed any of them LMAO.

FISHER NATION... there's way more fishing titles than I thought, so grab your rod and get ready to cast! 🎣🎣🎣

‘Of the Irresistible Lure’, from “I Caught That VIII”- Catch and record discovery of 1,460 unique fish.

6/10. I mean this one is OK, any title that can drop ‘Irresistible’ in there has something going for it. It’s just not a compelling title to me when there’s so much cooler sounding shit to pick from. And if you’ve gotten this title, you for sure have access to those cooler ones.

‘Master Fisher’, from “The One That Didn’t Get Away IV” - Catch 10,000 large-sized fish.

3/10. Come the fuck on, man. At least in the English-speaking client, everyone is going to be thinking about “Master Baiter” and missed opportunities. Even without that context this one is pretty boring. And considering how fishing mechanics work, how does catching 10k large fish imply mastery of any sort? That’s probably the most boring achievement to get in fishing.

‘Meadowcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: La Noscea” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: La Noscea” achievements.

8/10. This one is pretty good, and it’s one of the oldest fishing titles in the game. There’s two others that are very similar. The use of ‘caster’ for fishing is funny, but also applicable for the combat part of the game. Unfortunately this and the other two are a huge grindy pain in the ass to get. ‘Meadow’ is a little dull to me though.

‘Forestcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: Black Shroud” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: Black Shroud” achievements.

7/10. I don’t think “Forestcaster” rolls off the tongue as well as the other two achievements. Kind of boring if I’m being fully honest, but I’m sure there are characters who can use this title to great effect.

‘Desertcaster’, from “A Fisher’s Life for Me: Thanalan” - Obtain all five “Good Things Come to Those Who Bait: Thanalan” achievements.

10/10. This shit sounds so fucking cool to me, I might even actually get this title despite the grind. ‘Desert’ goes way harder than the other two from this achievement series, IMO.

‘Master Caster’, from “Go Big or Go Home IX” - Catch 100 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during A Realm Reborn, Heavensward, or Stormblood.

8/10. Master Fisher wishes it was this cool. The clever rhyme calls to mind FISHER NATION poetry, which helps this one a lot. The only reason it ranks so low is because….

‘Grandmaster Caster’, from “Go Big or Go Home IX” - Catch 204 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during A Realm Reborn, Heavensward, or Stormblood.

10/10. Automatically overshadows the previous entry, and for good reason: this one takes some real fuckin’ effort to get. I’m so happy to have finally gotten this title. It’s extremely funny to wear it when playing a ranged magical job. Also, ‘Grandmaster’ makes me feel like a chess champion or something.

‘Lord/Lady of Far Waters’, from “Go Big Far from Home V” - Catch 45 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during Shadowbringers.

11/10. God this one is so fucking cool we are hard-locked into this title for the forseeable future once I actually earn it (currently 43/45). I think this is my favorite fishing title? It’s so unique and powerful…. Nobody does it like her.

‘Big Fish’, from “No River Wide Enough” - Obtain the achievements “Go Big or Go Home XVI” and “Go Big Far From Home V”.

4/10. Can I be real with you. Whose idea was it to make the achievement for earning BOTH of its strong predecessors so fucking boring by comparison? This is definitely a flex title, but one I will not be wearing for more than like 20 seconds for some screenshots. This one gets points for reminding me of the movie of the same name, which was Pretty Good (TM).

‘Wavewalker’, from “Go Big Till the End” - Catch 40 different varieties of big fish in areas explored during Endwalker.

6/10. Listen, I get what this is going for. It’s a play on Endwalker. The thing is, Wavewalker just doesn’t evoke anything special to me. I think of regular surfing. I think of weird new-age crystal people projecting onto the astral plane, but in the most boring pseudoscientific way possible. I think about some kind of maneuver the audience might do during a concert. Just kind of mundane to me.

‘The Final Fish’, from “Fish Fear Me” - Obtain the achievements “No River Wide Enough” and “Go Big Till the End III.”

7/10. The sequel to ‘Big Fish’ sucks a little bit less, but it’s still not super special to me. I might wear this one a little longer when I get it. At least we have a play on Final Fantasy with this one. I would feel less boring wearing this one than some of the other entries on this list. To be honest I think "Fish Fear Me" would have been a cooler title instead of making that the achievement name.

‘Rod of the Firmament’, from “Skyward Rod III” - Earn 500,000 points toward your skyward score as a fisher.

8/10. You can make so many dick jokes with this one. A solid (heh) title, no notes, we appreciate this.

‘The Nest’s Own Fisher’, from “The Height of Angling” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the second phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

3/10. Man what is this even going for? The only real connection that comes to mind is a fishing bird or something. How do I use this? It gets a couple points for novelty since it’s unlike other fishing titles, but that’s it. Especially considering the next one does it better.

‘Featherfall’s Finest Fisher’, from “Fishers of a Feather” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the third phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

7/10. We’re getting somewhere with this one; we got the alliteration going, ‘Featherfall’ sounds cool as fuck. Probably not a title I’d use but it’s way more appealing than the previous.

‘The Risensung Fisher’, from “An Ode to Angling” - As a fisher, submit 300 artisanal seafood items for the fourth phase of the Ishgardian restoration.

5/10. Aaaand back down again. I know it’s a play on Dragonsong but “Risensung” just sounds awkward to me. It just does not work for me, too awkward and weird. But at least it’s better than the first of these.

‘World-class Troller’, from “On a Boat V” - Earn a cumulative total of 3,000,000 points while ocean fishing.

9/10. This title is perfect for silly little geese who do a little bit of trolling now and then. What kind of trolling? Well, that is simply for you to decide…. I knock off a point because this doesn’t scream ‘fishing title’ to me. But it IS a fun title nevertheless.

‘Ocean Fisher’, from “No More Fish in the Sea III” - Score at least 16,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

4/10. Yaaaawn. It’s giving ‘Master Fisher’ energy. At least this one makes me think of the ocean and not Master Baiting. But man what a generic title. Who gives a shit. Why would this be your pick ever?

‘Master of the Sea’, from “No More Fish in the Sea IV” - Score at least 20,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

9/10. WAY better than its predecessor. It’s not quite ‘Lord of Far Waters’ but it scratches a similar itch to me. There’s so many cool ways to use this one in terms of character, glam, etc. A strong pick for sure.

‘Doom of the Deep’, from “Near, Far, Wherever Fish Are III” - Score at least 16,000 points during a single ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

10/10. Cool as FUCK. Very little can stand up to this one. The alliteration, etc… it’s so foreboding and badass. My only complaint is it’s a little too easy to get for such a cool title, IMO… but that doesn’t hurt it in the rankings.

‘Octopus Traveler’, from “What Did Octopodes Do to You?” - Earn the “Octopus Travelers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

8/10. Octopath Traveler gamers probably love this one. I guess it’s a little funny since that’s also a Square Enix property. I’m mostly giving it an 8 out of a sense of obligation considering. Also, octopodes are cool as fuck.

‘Shark Hunter’, from “What Did Sharks Do to You?” - Earn the “Certifiable Shark Hunters” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

1/10. Shark hunting sucks IRL and I hate that this reminds me of that :( A sad title. Maybe you can make it work for a really elaborate Jaws cosplay but that’s stretching it.

‘Jellyfish Fanatic’, from “What Did Jellyfish Do to You?” - Earn the “Jelled Together” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

6/10. This probably goes hard for jellyfish fans. IDK, I think jellyfish are fine, pretty cool organisms, but I wouldn’t personally consider myself a fanatic, so I don’t really get it.

‘Sea Dragoon’, from “What Did Seadragons Do to You?” - Earn the “Maritime Dragonslayers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

7/10. Big title if you’re a Dragoon main— it’s a fun pun and everything. But also I feel there are cooler Dragoon titles to pick from, even a cooler fishing one, so it’s a little mediocre. It’s fine, whatever.

‘Balloon Catcher’, from “What Did Balloons Do to You?” - Earn the “Balloon Catchers” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

2/10. Balloon Catcher. Balloon Catcher? This is dire. This is bad. Keep this one away from me. Anti-cool if I’m being fully honest. Balloon Catcher… at least it’s not Shark Hunter, I suppose.

‘Deadliest Catcher’, from “What Did Crabs Do to You?” - Earn the “Crab Boat Crew” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

8/10. Like, the title itself is fine, pretty good even, but it does not scream “fisher” to me in a way that matters. I know it’s a play on The Deadliest Catch, but it simply doesn’t wow me. It does score pretty high for general badassery.

‘Manta Maniac’, from “What Did Mantas Do to You?” - Earn the “Sticking it to the Manta” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Indigo route.

7/10. This is super similar to Jellyfish Fanatic, but this gets an extra point for the alliteration. I also personally like manta rays more than jellyfish. Sorry, jellyfish fans.

‘Sea Comber’, from “What Did Shellfish Do to You?” - Earn the “Maximum Mussel” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

2/10. Bro this suuuuucks. We’re fuckin’ combing? Inherently it’s not as bad as fucking ‘Balloon Catcher’, but it scores the same because HOW COULD YOU NOT DO A PLAY ON SHELLFISH/SELFISH FOR THIS. Fuck you. This sucks ass.

‘Squidzure Dragoon’, from “What Did Squid Do to You?” - Earn the “Squid Squadron” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

9/10. Definitely the cooler Dragoon fishing title (it’s weird it happened twice). Absolutely brilliant pun, and it’s an iconic enough play on ‘Azure Dragoon’ that people will recognize it from the main story. No notes, great title.

‘Shrimp Mariner’, from “What Did Shrimp Do to You?” - Earn the “Shrimp Smorgasbord” bonus during an ocean fishing voyage on the Ruby route.

3/10. And back to the depths. What are we even going for here? This is stupid. There’s nothing cool about this. At least it’s a little more fishing related, I guess? I hate it less than the other 2s? Not a vote of confidence, I’ll say.

‘Otherworld Angler’, from “Live Long and Prospero” - Complete the quest “Morsel of the Deep.”

8/10. The poor man’s ‘Lord of Far Waters’. It’s a cool title and inherently provides the context behind it, which is impressive. It’s from Shadowbringers, after all. If you don’t have other cool fishing titles at your disposal, this is a pretty easy one to get. But as someone with cooler titles, this isn’t one I’ll be using.

‘Erudite Angler’, from “Sufficient Data” - Complete the quest “Pastures New.”

5/10. This is basically the Endwalker version of the previous title, and it doesn’t excite me. It’s just not as cool. I will say that this quest is basically the ‘this will negatively affect the trout population’ meme put into quest form. It’s hilarious and I recommend doing it. The title is just a mediocre reward for it.

‘Of Countless Catches’, from “Forever Fancy” - Complete the quest “An Odd Fish Odyssey.”

7/10. Love the alliteration on this one, which is the Dawntrail version of the previous two. I like that we angled away from Angler and into some new naming territory. To be honest, I think this should have been the title for the ‘Master Fisher’ achievement, but it is what it is.

‘The Ambitious Angler’, from “I Like Big Fish and I Cannot Lie” - Complete the quest “The Beast of Brewer’s Beacon.”

6/10. I didn’t even know this title existed??? I only found it scrolling through achievements. It’s just from a random ARR fishing side quest? Wild. Anyway this is fine. Maybe I’ll go get it. But there’s SO many cooler titles. This might be good for someone just starting their fishing journey.

[charlieslimeciclereal]

criminally low number considering the amount of thumbnails they're... um.. featured in. together.

[ganondoodle]

kind of expected that the ability breakdown wouldnt get that much traction (especially on twitter bc if it doesnt do well in the first few hours it might as well be dead) but what i didnt need to wake up to was looking at my twitter notifications and thinking there was a long comment on it at first but then i read it and it turned out to be some guy having dug up one of my old totk tweets where i talked about how zelda was treated-

and if a quote retweet with a thread attached already starts with "this entitled brat didnt understand that zelda was being a history nerd by being in the past and getting to experience it herself" with two screenshots attached of the end of totk with zelda staring at the cam all uwu (which has ??? to do with their point??) i dont even want to know what else was in that thread

if thats how the majority of the fandom is then im even less surprised that nintendy doesnt even have to try to write anything good :I

ah yes, i am a game nerd, and by putting me in a game where i stand around doing puppy dog eyes while being shoved around by NPCs is me being a game nerd OBVIOSULY

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 10: Whomp That Sucker (Where's My Girl)

A good time!!! That's the first thing I associate with this album. It's one of the earlier ones I've heard too and I was certainly a big fan of it from the very start. Not only that, but I think it was a bit of a groundbreaking point in my experience as a new Sparks fan, since I was trying to figure out where to go next and this was a good plunge somewhere in the midst of it all that proved that no matter where you go, you're going to get something special! And after a couple more months (I mean, it's been a bit over a year since that first listen already! How time flies) it still holds up in my personal rankings. Soooo well. Definitely very special to me!

I think it's safe to say by now that between the pair of Whomp and Angst I'll always stay partial to Whomp. The latter seems to be much more popular among fans, and I can understand that, but something about Whomp speaks to me much more. Both are fun, energetic new-wavey albums, still in the realm of rock but with some cool use of synths that would soon become even more important and a core element of the music. Still though, I think Whomp is more PURE fun - between many hilarious lyrics and the overall playful and lighthearted nature of it, I don't think it's possible to listen to this one and not feel even a little bit happier afterwards.

I especially love the whole atmosphere of it, what I call the spacey / sparkly synth, that gives it a little bit of an outer space feel, much moreso than the actual album called In Outer Space (but i'd better not get ahead of myself yet when it comes to that one, lol). This album really feels sparkly and even glittery to me in a weird way, and unexplainably, this all reminds me of like, sweets and chocolates like those cosmic brownies or daim candy?? That's what this album would taste like to me! Sweet and a little extra and always a good little treat. Damn, and now I want to try a cosmic brownie.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

I don't even have that many personal favourites from this album even though I really really love it as a whole!! I guess it's a bit of a Propaganda situation, where there isn't that many super big standouts compared to the rest of the tracks, they're all just very cool and I mostly don't have that much to say about them individually, they're all just!! So fun!! (I mean, ok, Suzie Safety might be the only one here that I don't care about all that much. I'm sorry, Suzie.) So this is more of a Moments list than anything

I Married A Martian: mostly I'm just incredibly charmed by the story here

Where's My Girl: AARGHHH!!! WAAUUGHGH!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!! SO MUCH!!!! The closest I can come to describing the feeling here is something like... song you heard a couple times when you were very young, enough that you remember how it goes when you hear it again, but can't recall it on the spot otherwise, and you forget about the song's existence until you hear it again after all those years and are hit by the biggest wave of nostalgia and longing for the past that you've ever experienced in your life. All that despite me never hearing this song until last year. Or is there just something I'm not aware of... Anyway, this was one of those rare and treasured moments of THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR!! *MY* MUSIC!! Needless to say, this song stayed on repeat countless of times and I will never get over how awesome this guitar solo is. And again, the spacey synth!!

Upstairs: upstAAAAAAirs!!! upstAAAAAAirs!!!

Don't Shoot Me: big fan of the whole thing but I'm especially charmed by the little high-pitched "shoot!"s and such in the background, and "WHO'S HEEE???"

The Willys: the song itself isn't even my fav but the PHYSICALLY! MENTALLY! MORALLY! part is always very chuckle-worthy. That's the wondrous humour I'm talking about here

That's Not Nastassia: Sparks songs with uncomfortably long endings my beloved... can also be pretty hilarious under the right circumstances (like listening to the vinyl of this album with my dad and watching his reaction). And can't forget how cool the transition into the last song is

[designernishiki]

okay but. why does it seem like 24 year old majima’s ridden a horse before. why does he talk like he has Experience. what is this lost lore

[neverendingford]

[broke-on-books]

Here is my finals board btw

It has everything you need for finals week, aka reminders for my actual finals, spider man, motivational poetry (unspeakable suffering edition), the comics vers of that one Twitter post, macroeconomics formulas, Batgirl, a sticker my gramma gave me, and motivational quote (again)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Crazy to me that people want to cast sorceries in Elden Ring without the staff. You simply do not have a wizard's temperament.

[ranvwoop]

for aforementioned gem au. fusions. techno is known to be Good At It. he's awesome at pretending to be put together enough. He can put aside whatever is going on for the task at hand. (there is, also, an aspect of being A Means To An End but he says he doesn't need to worry about that until it bubbles over and he does have to worry about that.). Phil + Techno are called Watermelon Malachite and they have this absolutely down.

Ranboo is the opposite end of the spectrum and he is awful at it. They try sometimes. Phil tries to teach him and Techno tries to teach him and I'm not sure if Tubbo is a gem but if he was they try because it's #Romantic (and Tommy says c'mon man it's easy, don't you trust me, ohh wait you just fuse with Tubbo don't you). He can't do it. It simply does not take.

Until Ranboo gets poofed for wayyy too long and they put his gems in his room. He is NOT coming out. (He is afraid because of identity reasons. Experiments analogous). Eventually Phil and Techno are like ... .... he's not like Dead are they. So they try fusing w/ him as a last resort (As shown is possible in EP Change your mind, for some reason)

Except now Technoblade is stuck in Ranboo's subconscious as well . He has to talk and coax him out, heartfelt conversation which is absolutely the strong suit of both parties,

and my long and convoluted explanation for why No ranboo doesn't fuse. but also peerpress fusion is a very fancy Eudialyte (That exists consciously for a whole 3 minutes of Hey! That's neat! before becoming unstable and unconsciously for an undetermined amount of time facedown on ranboo's floor)

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[a-book-of-creatures]

I think I stumbled upon some kind of ichthyological forbidden knowledge. Opened up a book of names that were never meant to be read.

You've probably heard of "can-opener smoothdream", right? It's practically a meme by now.

But the thing is, it's a deep-sea fish. And deep-sea fish have historically not had English names because nobody drops them into the conversation over a hot cuppa. Sure, there's generic stuff like hatchetfish and barreleye, but when you want to refer to the actual fish you're probably saying such euphonious phrases as Diretmus argenteus, Sternoptyx diaphana, or maybe even Opisthoproctus soleatus.

So whence "can-opener smoothdream"? Certainly no non-ichthyologist has ever used that name. It's not even a direct translation of the scientific name Chaenophryne longiceps - that would be "long-headed gape-toad". Which to me is even cooler than "can-opener smoothdream".

But I digress. The "dream" bit comes from the anglerfish family Oneirodidae, from oneiros, "dream", because those marvelous fishes look like they came out of a dream (Pietsch, 2009).

Note that Pietsch (2009), more or less the anglerfish bible, uses English names at the genus level only. So Chaenophryne is the smoothhead dreamers genus but no mention is made of "can-opener smoothdreams". So no luck there.

Wikipedia, root cause of a lot of misinformation, has this to say.

"Longhead dreamer" is a far more accurate name. And in fact, despite Wikipedia prioritizing "can-opener smoothdream" (because it's funny?), the links listed use "longhead dreamer" and "smoothhead dreamer" as the name and "can-opener smoothdream" as an alternative.

So. Again. Where did "can-opener smoothdream" come from?

The answer, as it turns out, lies with McAllister (1990).

In the book A List of the Fishes of Canada, ichthyologist D. E. McAllister sought out to list every single fish known to Canadian waters, providing both an English and a French name.

And when there wasn't an English name, like for most deep-sea fishes, he arbitrarily gave them a name. And his names "differ in many instances from the widely accepted names" (Holm, 1998)

This had varying results. This is his name for one of the netdevil anglerfishes.

The humpback anglerfish or blackdevil anglerfish becomes a werewolf (????).

This one is just confusing.

The white-spotted lanternfish or Rafinesque's lanternfish instead becomes...

And most embarrassingly, the Mediterranean spiderfish gets saddled with something that "violates the tenet of good taste" (Holm, 1998).

This then is the original source of "can-opener smoothdream". It was invented by an ichthyologist in 1990, and has seen little to no use outside of how bizarre the name is.

Maybe McAllister's goofier names will catch on. Who knows? They certainly aren't very popular in the scientific community though.

References

Holm, E. (1998) Encyclopedia of Canadian Fishes (review). The Canadian Field-Naturalist, 112, p. 174-175.

McAllister, D. E. (1990) A List of the Fishes of Canada. National Museum of Natural Sciences, Ottawa.

Pietsch, T. W. (2009) Oceanic Anglerfishes: Extraordinary Diversity in the Deep Sea. University of California Press, Berkeley.

[bunnis-monsters]

I hope I'm not too late! For the 5K event (congratulations btw!!! You deserve all of them ^^), could my request be of a merman pod finding reader and deciding she needs to be their mate/breeding partner? I guess it'd be kind of a similar situation with the cow/bull hybrids?? I'm not sure how it'd go, but It can be as sfw or nsfw as you want (I deeply apologize if this exceeds 1k words. Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to). Thank you in advance! ^^

A/N: my requests and commissions are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commission wait list is open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited, so get on the waitlist while you still can~

Warning: dubcon, breeding, virginity loss

It had been a normal day out on the water for you, swimming and splashing around in a small cove near your home.

Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for you, it was the spot where a pod of mermen spent their breeding season, relaxing and eating there before going out to try and find a suitable mate.

As you got ready to get out and go grab a snack from your cooler, you felt someone’s eyes on you…

When you turned to look, a head quickly dipped back under the water, and you felt your blood run cold when you spotted several dark shapes swimming in your direction.

Of course you immediately swam for the shore, afraid of it being a shark or some underwater predator. You were alone out there, and if you were eaten no one would ever even know.

Before you could stand to start wading through the now waist deep water, something grabbed your ankle, pulling you under.

You cursed yourself for not bringing your goggles, unable to open your eyes under the stinging, salty sea water.

You prepared for some kind of attack, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful… but nothing happened. Your body was gently lifted out of the water, and you felt something cool and smooth rubbing against your cheek… and your belly… and pretty much every part of your skin.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by strange creatures, half human and half fish. They all were nuzzling their cheeks unto your flesh, some giving you soft licks as if inspecting you.

After thoroughly looking over you, they all began purring and trilling, some cooing as they set you on your feet. Getting a better look at them, you realized they were all handsome, and were all smiling as they surrounded you.

“A female in our cove? What luck!”

You were surprised when one of the creatures spoke, even more surprised when another responded with soft trills and clicks.

“Yes, she is quite warm… and so soft!”

The feeling of cool scales rubbing against your thigh made you yelp. One of their tails was curling around you, keeping you close and still.

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”

They all flinched when you raised your voice, their fins perking up. Some looked at you curiously, while some seemed a bit annoyed or afraid.

“Mmm? We’re preparing to breed with you. It’s not often a female is so close to our cove while it’s mating season.”

You nearly fainted, this was all too much. First you were having to accept the fact that mermen were real, which was hard enough by itself.

Now, these mermen that you just learned actually existed wanted to breed with you.

Another merman pressed against your back, letting out a soft coo as something sticky and hard slipped and rubbed between your thighs.

There was one in front of you as your thighs were fucked from behind. He examined your bathing suit, talking his head and pulling at the fabric curiously.

“Something to cover your mating slit? Perhaps human females are more cunning than I thought…”

He seemed to view the fabric as a separate layer of skin, his weighed fingers moving to trace over your clothed pussy.

The merman’s eyes went wide, and his finge red pressed against your clothed hole. “Warm… so warm…”

The feeling of his cool, webbed fingers moving over your warm pussy made you shiver and buck your hips uncontrollably. This made the merman purr in delight.

“Y-you can remove it… it’s clothing,” you said, panting softly. Honestly, it had been so long since you’ve really pleasured yourself, and you desperately wanted to get fucked stupid.

Your bathing suit was unceremoniously ripped off, and the pod gathered around you.

There were whines and hisses, each merman fighting over who got to breed you first.

It was finally settled that they would go from smallest to largest. A merman, a bit younger than the rest approached you shyly. He was excited, this would be his first time breeding!

He chirped at you, giving you puppy dog eyes as his cock bobbed up and down in need. It seemed this one couldn’t speak, possibly being new to human speech.

“Go on, just inhale her scent and your instincts will take over,” one of the merman said, encouraging the other as he placed a hand on your thigh.

His face buried itself in his neck, and as soon as he inhaled your scent his body stiffened and pressed against you.

The feeling of his cock struggling to find your hole, rubbing against you desperately made your heart throb. This merman was too cute!

You loved your hand down, the man letting out a nervous yet aroused trill when you helped to guide his cock to your entrance.

“There you go, baby… r-right there…”

He nuzzled his cheek against yours, the flesh slightly rough against your soft skin.

The second he sunk his cock into your cunt, he let out a groan, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you roughly.

You but your lip, trying not to make too much noise. The other merman moved in closer to watch, and they all seemed to communicate with the one mating with you.

“Warm? You said she’s warm there?”

“Oh… cum already, I want a turn!”

The first merman came, relaxing against you as your pussy was filled with his cum. The next was eager to get a feeling of your pussy, pushing the other out of the way before pushing in.

“Nngh… w-warm…” he gasped out, his body hands trembling as they grasped your plump hips.

None of them were used to fucking into something so soft and warm, mermaid were usually cold and rough… but god you were the complete opposite.

It was a breeding frenzy after that, each desperate to get their turn fucking that fat, warm pussy of yours. The sound of wet squelching and shameful moans and cries echoing through the cove.

After each had a turn, they returned you to the shore, leaving you with a freshly caught fish before they left to go hunt.

“We’ll be back by nightfall, mate!”

“Don’t enter the water until we’re home! We don’t want our scents attracting other competing males!”

They waved to you as they swam away… and you were looking forward the summer with your new pod of mates.

part 2? might make a little series based off this concept where you meet each merman and get to know them!

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila

[rafeandonlyrafe]

favorite girl to see

words: 700

warnings: implied sex, cart girl!reader, soft!rafe, fluffy

“hey boys.” you grin as you greet them all, but your eye is on one boy in particular.

“there's my favorite girl to see.” rafe smiles, quickly putting his putter back in his golf bag.

you roll your eyes despite your cheeks blushing. “you just like me because i bring you drinks.”

“nope.” rafe shakes his head, walking closer to you as you stay sat in the cart, worried your knees would buckle if you tried to stand up with his full attention on you. “otherwise id say that to all the cart girls.”

“mmm, and you don't?” you raise your eyebrows.

“absolutely not.” rafe scoffs like it's a ridiculous notion.

“what'll it be for you today?” you ask rafe, standing carefully and rounding the golf cart to the drinks area, opening up the cooler, expecting to grab him a high noon or white claw like usual.

“just a water, actually.” rafe turns to look at his friend he's golfing with. you don't even glance away from rafes perfectly chiseled features. “anything for you top?”

“im good.”

“one water it is.” you dig out a bottle from the melting ice, taking a towel and drying off the sides so you don't have a wet drink to rafe.

“so kind.” he coos, reaching into his wallet.

“rafe-” you sigh, already knowing what is coming as he pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

“nope.” rafe says, stuffing the bill into your hand. “take it. a tip for my favorite girl to see.”

“the water is like five bucks, this is a ridiculous tip.” you state, always trying to argue against the way rafe tips you, knowing you'll end up conceding and taking it. 

“well, if it makes you feel better about it, there is something else you can do for me.”

“hm?” you question as rafe pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, and then hands it to you.

“put your number in.”

-- 6 months later --

you look around the golf course, having taken a later shift instead of the early one you're used to. you're getting out on the green much later than normal, trying to spot your regulars, one in particular.

you put your cart into drive the moment you see him, skipping by any other groups who may be trying to buy something. you'll loop back later to get their orders, but your sole focus is on one man.

“rafe.” you hop out your cart, giving a quick look around before jumping into his open arms, knowing while employee member relationships are technically against the rules, rafe could pull a few strings if anyone ever tattled on you.

“my girl.” rafes smile is infectious, especially as his hands drop down to squeeze your ass over your skirt, pulling your hips right up against his. “you're here late.”

“let's just say someone kept me up late last night.” you giggle, pressing a kiss to rafes lips, knowing he's the reason you had to switch shifts this morning.

rafe deepens the kiss, one hand coming to the back of your neck to keep you close as his mouth covers yours, lips and tongue gliding against each other.

“babe-” you sigh, pulling away.

“yeah, i know.” rafe steps away, knowing you only allow so much pda when you're at work.

it's one of the reasons rafe tried to convince you to quit many times, insisting you didn't need to work now that you had him, but you like picking up a few hours every week.

“what can i get you?” you ask, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the cart.

“another kiss.” rafe smiles. you roll your eyes and press a quick peck to his lips.

“and to drink?”

“gatorade, i guess.” rafe shrugs. “im also kinda tired from last night.”

you don't miss the wink that he gives you as you fish out his drink.

rafe grabs his wallet from his back pocket as you let out a groan, knowing what is to come, his tipping habits not changing one bit despite being together.

“what?” rafe says, handing you the large bill, knowing he'll take you shopping later to spend it. “i want to make sure you give better service to me than any of these old bastards.”

“speaking of service-” you get on your tiptoes and whisper into rafes ear. “meet me in the employee break room in 30?”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[gutsby]

If You Like Piña Coladas

Pairing: Neighbor!Joel x Reader

Summary: You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Foodplay (i.e., Joel fucks you with a fruit popsicle). Girthy, unspecified age gap. Mentions of blood.

Note: Loosely inspired by ‘Escape (The Piña Colada Song)’ by Rupert Holmes…minus the part about mutual infidelity LOL

Word count: 8.0k

Joel Miller had been on his own for too long.

The least you could get him was a date. Or even just laid.

Likes: Long walks on the beach

Actually…he hadn’t seen a coastline in ten years, at least. You backspaced slowly and then lowered Joel’s phone.

What did that old grump like to do, anyway?

In all the years you’d been living next door to Mr. Miller, you hadn’t seen him take pleasure in much of anything besides mowing his lawn, rolling his eyes, and screaming like a fiend alongside your dad at whatever game was on.

Likes: College football. Quality time with friends :-)

Nope. Corny as fuck. Backbackbackback.

You wiggled your thumbs over the keyboard in muted concentration. You knew you didn’t have much longer. Joel was currently engrossed in one of the three things he loved most—mowing long, careful rows through his backyard—and you were supposed to be watching the season finale of the Mandalorian while he did. That had been the pretext of your visit, anyway. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d stepped outside and a little under thirty since you’d let your curiosity get the better of you and seized his phone, so you figured he’d be back soon.

You had to think of something witty, and do it quick.

Feeling inspiration strike a second later, you typed:

Likes: Piña Coladas. Getting caught in the rain. Making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape.

Perfect. Easy. Everybody loved that song in the ‘70s.

Having thus put the finishing touch on Joel’s profile, you leaned back and let out a contented sigh. You scrolled. Flicked through photo after photo of your very own hand-picked selection and smiled, feeling proud.

You’d started him off strong and suave with a picture from Tommy’s wedding, wearing a tux that fit him well. Then a cool, casual snap of him at a brewery. A photo taken out on the lake, life jacket snug and showing off a sliver of his broad, bare chest. Then a picture of him at your graduation—you made sure to crop yourself out—followed by a candid shot of him playing dress-up with his niece. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all the yet-unknown, lovely folks of Hinge would eat this shit up.

You set the radius to 100 miles. Beefed up the age range and gender preferences to include virtually every living soul over 30, tweaked a few more prompts to be cooler, then scrolled through his newly-minted profile. Again.

Oh, and— shit, wait.

Quickly, you toggled to the phone’s settings and disabled all notifications for Hinge. Then you grabbed the app and wrestled it somewhere deep within all the utilities ones that no one ever used. This had to stay hidden for now.

And, just as you stretched your thumb to make a couple last changes to his page, the back door thundered open.

Joel stumbled in, half-hunched. Rubbing his face with a towel and treading slow, heavy steps through the living room. With your heart about to burst from your throat and your impulses blown to shit, you panicked and crammed his phone in your shorts—like, in them.

Joel’s phone was just then settling above the groove of your ass when the man collapsed on the loveseat across the room. Instinctively, you drew your legs to your chest as Joel groaned and pulled the towel away from his face.

“The beast is at it again,” he declared, expression grim.

Before you could ask who ‘beast’ might be, he clarified:

“Marlene’s shit-for-brains labradoodle won’t quit diggin’ holes under my fence. Whole thing’s gonna fall if he—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had to tune out the rest of what he said; your butt squirmed against the sofa as your neighbor’s phone traveled perilously down and took partial lodging between your cheeks. Then stuck.

There was no way you were getting caught like this. One stray phone call or text and you would have the world’s most jarring ringtone buzzing straight up your ass. And a very uncomfortable conversation with Joel, to be sure.

So, while he droned on about the chaos being wrought by the paws of old Sparky, you nodded to the window.

“Aw shit, Mr. Miller…did he just…dig up another?” You feigned surprise as you stared over Joel’s shoulder at a hole that didn’t even exist. Then, when he’d jumped to his feet and growled ‘No fuuuuuckin’ shot’ as he made his way over to the window, you acted fast and pulled the phone out of your ass and stuck the old, cracked thing on top of the coffee table where it’d been last and stood.

Before he could see—or say—anything else, you seized your own phone and made a swift beeline for the door.

Shouting over your shoulder, probably sounding like a fucking lunatic but not particularly caring either way:

“DAD’SCALLINGMEGOTTAGOMISTERMILLERBYE.”

And you left. You had no desire to explain your baseless, bullshit observation or why his phone was currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat from your butt.

You’d never seen so many roses in your life.

Joel Miller could legitimately give the whole Bachelor franchise a run for its money with all the goddamn virtual flowers he’d been getting from his Hinge admirers.

It’d been a week before you’d finally gotten the chance to abduct his phone again and check his ‘likes’ for yourself. Honestly, you hadn’t been expecting much—Joel was hot, but more so in a niche-ish sort of DILF-sexy way. You figured he’d be more of an acquired taste, really.

Once you’d scrolled through just over a hundred different messages, you realized at once how wrong you were.

‘GNAWING at the bars of my enclosure.’

‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry, I mean, Daddy?’

‘Need you in a way that is concerning to feminism.’

‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.’

And that was truly just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the wild, chaotic, and horny messages Joel had received over the last week. You couldn’t believe it.

You got to firing off responses as fast as you could. Sitting cross-legged on the back porch while your dad, Joel, Tommy, and a dozen other neighbors were busy grilling burgers and soaking up as much sun as possible.

The only other person who hadn’t joined them was Tess.

She peered over your shoulder and fought back a laugh.

“That man is a fuckin’ menace to society, I swear.”

“No, we’re a menace to society. All about team effort,” you corrected her as you typed up a lightning-quick ‘Hey ;-)’ to each message, fingers moving fast.

“He doesn’t even know you’re doing this!”

“He will soon enough,” you mumbled. Grinning. Then, “Mission’s not over until that old man gets his dick wet.”

You’d probably made it through seventy or so replies and got to go back-and-forth with a couple hot prospects by the time you heard footsteps trailing up the steps—heavy ones that you instantly recognized as Joel’s. Without another word, you exited the app, turned the phone off, and chucked it to Tess, who placed it discreetly onto the porch railing where Joel had left it.

That phone really should have had a passcode on it.

Two weeks later, it did.

You saw it as soon as you’d slid your thumb up the screen in the comfort of Joel’s living room—over at his place pretending to be watching your Star Wars spin-off again—and you felt your heart jump up in your throat.

Your passcode is required to enable Face ID.

Since when the fuck did your neighbor have a passcode? Or even know how to make Face ID a thing? Or use it?

These questions and a dozen more were thrumming through your skull when you heard the screech of the back door once again. This time, instead of taking his sweet time on his yard work, Joel had only been gone five minutes. You swallowed a scream and did that dumb, reflexive thing you had before: shoved his phone in your shorts and thrust yourself back into the couch.

Practically shaking when Joel stepped into the room.

Of course, he wasn’t sweaty. His shirt wasn’t smudged with flecks of dirt or swaths of green from the grass outdoors, nor were his Wranglers the slightest bit muddied. He was perfectly clean in a plain white tee, jeans, and boots. You couldn’t help but notice how tight the short sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps, and then you realized it was because his arms were crossed.

Joel regarded you with a look as long and as careful as the rows he was supposed to be mowing out in the middle of his backyard right now, and he let out a breath.

“Guess what,” he said.

“What?” you squeaked.

Your eyes widened without meaning to, and when Joel plopped down on the sofa beside you, you felt a shiver pulse through your body. Joel stretched his big, wide, denim-clad legs out as he leaned back, and you had to force yourself not to jump when his knee struck yours.

“I’ve gotta brush up on my Gen Z lingo,” he announced.

Wh— okay? What the fuck?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, and feeling the slightest twinge of relief at this declaration, Joel started to tug something out of his pocket. It took you several seconds to see it, then a couple more just to work out what it was, then Joel was squeezing it. Flipping it open.

An old Motorola Razr? When did he get that?

“See, I, uh— met a girl last week,” Joel resumed, plainly careless in the way he fingered the thing in his grip.

Your chest tightened. Had he really?

“She’s a little on the…younger side. You might know her.”

Oh shit. Was Joel banging one of your friends?

You swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue. You pretended not to notice when he flipped the phone open and left it that way—starting to thumb through the keys to do something on it. You fought the urge to take a look.

To distract yourself, you watched his face instead. It was lax.

“She said somethin’ kinda funny last night, and I—” Joel paused to let out a breath of a laugh, and you nearly broke down to steal a glance at what he was looking at.

Narrowly, you resisted. And it was a lucky thing, too—the next thing you knew, Joel’s gaze was fixed right on you.

“Y’know what she said to me?” he asked.

“What?”

Joel blinked. You probably should’ve heard the click of a little button on the phone he was holding, but you didn’t.

You did feel the vibration of another phone under your ass a second later, though. That one was unmistakable.

That one was Joel’s.

Out of one more stupid, senseless instinct, you coughed. Loud. Like the momentary scratch in your throat might reasonably mask the sound and sensation of a small hunk of metal buzzing between your butt and the couch.

It didn’t, of course. You sat and stared at Joel as it rang.

Slowly, he brought the Razr to his ear. At one corner of his mouth, you could discern the first inklings of a smirk.

“Wanna answer that?” he hummed, nodding to your rear.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

You weren’t sure how you even had the strength to do it, but you reached back and plucked his phone out of your shorts. With your gaze still stuck to his, you answered it. Put it to your own ear out of habit—and a little bit of fear.

“Hello?” you said, stupidly.

“Hey.”

The second you heard Joel’s voice rumble out beside you on the couch and across the line, your heart dropped. Ironclad confirmation of all you didn’t want to believe.

You squeezed his phone even tighter and sincerely hoped the man couldn’t hear the wild, erratic beat of your heart as it throbbed and thudded in your chest. The noise was almost too loud for you to hear anything else, too fast-paced and frantic to discern another word until:

“Can you tell me what a ‘Hinge DILF’ is, darlin��?”

You rose to your feet, scarcely even realizing it.

You had to get off of that couch, had to get away from him and come clean, as calmly as you possibly could. The phone fell out of your grasp just as he ended the call.

“Shit— Mr. Miller— I-I-I-I can explain.”

Swiftly, suddenly, Joel recovered his phone from the floor. He set the other device aside and propped his feet on the coffee table, lounging a little more comfortably now that he could scroll the phone at his leisure. Before he did, though, he made a point to wipe the screen.

“Nothin’ I love more than ass sweat on my phone.”

Your cheeks heated to a thousand degrees.

You wished the ground below your feet would open up and swallow you whole. It was like you were floating somewhere over your own body, unable to move or speak. From this vantage point, and still paralyzed with fear, you could see Joel opening Hinge on his phone.

“Crazy how long the stuff sticks,” he mused aloud, starting to peruse his likes, “When you got up and high-tailed it outta my place that first day, I thought I must’ve been seein’ things—what with how wet my phone was.”

You would’ve closed your eyes in utter resignation if you’d had the strength. Joel had known this entire time.

The old man continued to scroll, cavalier as ever.

“I figured ya might’ve been havin’ some…personal time of your own on my phone—maybe your old man blocked PornHub on the home WiFi or somethin’—but then I kept diggin’ around…” As Joel spoke, his actions seemed to mirror his words, and he was really scoping out the app. Combing through profiles and roses and streams of old messages that you had sent, then shrugged to himself.

“…and all I found added up to jackshit,” he concluded.

This time, you managed to meet his gaze when he looked back up, but really, you hardly saw him at all.

Joel was smiling.

“I did see a text, though.”

He waved his phone, where a few messages were visible, though not legible, to you. You didn’t try to read them.

“‘Welcome to Hinge! Reply ‘C’ to confirm your phone number and get started,’” Joel rattled the first one off.

Of course you’d forgotten to delete the fucking text.

“And I know my memory’s all but gone to shit, but I didn’t remember ever replying ‘C’ myself, so then—”

“It was a joke,” you choked out, cutting him off.

Joel cocked a brow. He leaned even further back in his seat and crossed his feet. You were already vomiting words before he could attempt to get one out himself.

“N-Not a funny joke,” you clarified, voice shaking, “Fuckin’ stupid as shit, I just wanted to see— y’know— me and Tess were talkin’ ‘bout how hard it must be…in your…in your fifties— it’s just hard finding somebody.”

Joel didn’t know what you were trying to say, and his face showed it. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“So you think my sex life is a joke?” Mr. Miller quipped.

“NO!”

You hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. You quieted down:

“No. I didn’t…no. I just wanted to see who would…”

“…wanna fuck me?” he finished, blunt as ever.

If your face had been hot before, surely it was about to burst into flames right now. You didn’t get like this—not around Joel Miller, not around anybody—but here you were, chest constricting with humiliation and shame, wishing you were anywhere in the world but the place you were, and Mr. Miller was smiling, he was still smiling, and it was all you could do to just stand there and…stare.

And wince when tears started to prick at your waterline.

As if this day couldn’t get any more mortifying, you were actually crying in front of your neighbor, nose stinging and beginning to leak. Stupid, stuttered gasps leaving your lungs like you’d just learned to breathe yesterday, vision blurring the man in front of you and then dimming, momentarily, as you brought your hands up to your eyes and tried to shield this wretched display from his view.

You paced a couple hasty, blind steps away. You pressed the heels of your palms so hard into your sockets that stars started to dance behind your lids and a pain began to stab your brain. You continued to sob. It was just then dawning on you that you’d have to make a run for it now and never set foot near this man’s property again. You’d have to lock yourself away, never get to go to a barbecue again, probably face a restraining order from Joel and—

“FUCK!” you shrieked.

With all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, you tumbled over Joel’s end table and took a nosedive into the floor. Your hands had no choice but to fly out in front of you in an effort to break your fall, and of course, they had to land on a lone, stray beer bottle on the ground.

One lovely little container of Corona Extra went splintering under the weight of your whole body, and briefly, before the thing exploded beneath your palm, you swore you could’ve heard a tiny, self-righteous voice:

‘¡La Vida Más Fina!’

Fuck you, Corona.

You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. Even if the bottle had managed to roll far enough to nick just the edge of your hand, slicing a minuscule strip of skin beneath your thumb, you still wanted to cry even harder. You looked pathetic, crumpled up beside this man’s couch with your wrist pinched between your fingers and your tears paving two steady streams down your cheeks. Hedged in by a field of shattered glass, you cast a look around yourself and whimpered. Then cursed. And cried.

You heard the shards around you crackle and snap even more when a pair of boots stepped in and crushed them.

Joel made easy work of your deadweight frame—your body hanging limply in his grip as he hoisted you up to your feet. Your vision was still as bleary as it had ever been, nose running and stinging and still struggling to take in breaths, but Mr. Miller’s hold was steady. He guided you into the kitchen and straight over to the sink.

Water ran. Wounds stung. A couple more sobs clawed out of your throat while Joel held your hand under the faucet, dabbed a paper towel across your hand to dry it off, then disappeared, momentarily, to retrieve what you assumed would be a first aid kit from the other room.

Instead, Mr. Miller returned with a fifth of Maker’s Mark. You eyed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and grimaced.

“N-Nuh-uh,” you blubbered, emphatic, “No way, man.”

“Uh, yes way, man,” Joel mimicked your voice, nose scrunching for dramatic effect as he elevated the pitch, “Like, you totally need this antiseptic so you don’t die.”

“I don’t s-sound like that!”

“I don’t so-o-und like that!”

Of course your neighbor couldn’t be assed to show an ounce of compassion to another person for more than two minutes. He drew closer with the whiskey. When he grabbed your wrist, you huffed and shook your head.

“That’s gonna hurt. I don’t want it.”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river.”

Though as soon as he’d said it, the man winced a little. Maybe that had been a bit too harsh. You sniffled hard.

“Fuck you, Miller— I-I was doin’ you a favor!” you spat.

Tears and snot becoming the fuel for part of your newfound indignation, you shot Joel a look and scowled. You wrenched your hand out of his grip and made a point to rebuff the bottle of liquor as you moved back, shaking your head again. Mr. Miller stood there and watched you.

“Only time you ever leave this fuckin’ house is when you’re hangin’ out with my dad or your brother, you haven’t got shit else to do around here but mow that fuckass lawn and jerk off— I was tryin’ to help you out! Get you laid like any normal guy would like, but no, no— you’ve gotta go and be the world’s biggest ASSHOLE about it, just like you are with everything else. I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you were and weren’t remorseful at all.

You were sorry you’d gotten caught, ate shit over a side table and got your palm fucked up by a bottle of beer.

You weren’t as sorry that Joel seemed to be regarding you as a joke now—something to tease and poke fun at. Trying to pour his makeshift disinfectant over your cut and force you to obey his orders because you were just too dumb to figure it out yourself, then mock your voice.

Then watch you with tightly knit brows, eyes scanning your face with a skepticism that was almost palpable.

Condescending old fuck.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that?” you seethed. Emotions running high—and humiliation momentarily usurped by anger—you stared him down and dared him to speak. You didn’t care what he thought of you now.

If it had been in your interest to care, you probably would’ve looked a little harder at what the man’s body language was communicating to you in the meantime. What his mouth was evidently loath to say, his hands and feet hardly displayed the same reticence: he set the bottle aside and stepped closer to you. He stared back.

It wasn’t until he’d approached near enough, had closed the space between your body and his with barely more than an inch or two to spare, and glowered down at you, face frozen with a frown, that your brain got the hint that he might not be the type to chicken out. Or back down.

He reached behind you and opened a cabinet.

“A favor,” Joel echoed, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to replicate your intonation as he said it.

He’d just marginally checked his douchebag predilection, was closing the cabinet door beside your head and was starting to rock back on his heels, when a little cylindrical glass swung low in your line of vision. Joel held the tumbler loosely, then lifted it and pointed with his pinky.

“You,” he said, accusing, “fuckin’ suck at those—favors.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight of a slight, impish smile just then starting to frame the sides of his mouth. The featherlight grip he kept fastened on the glass, the ease of his stance, even the jab of that stupid, rough finger, still pointing at you, all bordered on nauseating. You fixed him with a pitiless look as he leaned in again.

And when his knuckles brushed your side, you tried not to flinch. You arrested his gaze without a word and let the smug, sun-tanned, sweet-as-shit-pie son of a bitch have his fill ogling you back and closing in on the bottle.

“What? Having half the tri-county population on Hinge ready to suck you off isn’t really your style?” you jeered.

Joel popped the cap and poured his drink. He shrugged.

“They ain’t you.”

As casual as if he’d just told you the weather forecast for the week ahead, his favorite place to eat, or the mundane specs on a construction project he’d been saddled with for months. Nothing of note. Nothing unknown. Just a routine admission of truth that sent your head reeling.

“You wh— w— well that’s—” you stammered, equal parts astonishment and exasperation as he continued to feed you steady, unrelenting doses of that look: “GROSS!”

You were standing stock-still, forced to watch that blip of a grin morph into a full smirk, slowly. He had to be joking.

“You are…fucked in the head, Miller. That’s not funny.”

Now you were the one pointing. Joel was drinking.

“—and I’d never in a million years even think—”

The side of your palm began to throb. It bled.

Blood was trickling down your wrist, roaring like thunder in your skull as your heart thudded away, impatient.

Impatient.

Impatient, impatient, impleeeeeeeeease fuck me, Joel, PLEASE!

Your libido a filthy, rotten traitor to all the rest of your better sense, you continued to stand there and suffocate on words like something akin to acid reflux in the throat. Your thighs snapped together, your back collapsed with equal force against the rigid set of cabinets behind it, and slowly, almost excruciating this time, you felt the pulse between your legs give way to a bout of warmth.

That cockhungry slut governing your bodily functions was actually getting wet for this asshole, and you were powerless to the effects of her wily, DILF-lusting ways.

“Gross,” you uttered out loud, again, reflexively—face overlaid with a look of horror as the heat began to pool.

And, as though the man had been endowed with the gift of infrared vision, or else just an external thermostat to gauge how hot you’d gotten between your two sweating legs, Joel brightened. His gaze flirted down to that soft, unseasonably tepid spot with a knowing look and then—

“Gross,” he parroted back. The smile behind his eyes said he wasn’t disgusted at all, just teasing some more.

When he pinched your wrist to get back to the business of blotting out blood with a paper towel, he kept that smug look painted across his creased, ancient face.

“‘S’that why ya made a Hinge for me? ‘Cause I’m gross?” Mr. Miller applied pressure to the still-bleeding cut, then directed your other hand to hold the paper towel in place.

You shook your head.

“No,” you started, trying not to wince before he turned. Again, the man ambled out of the kitchen, only to come back momentarily—finally—with a long-awaited bandaid.

“I mean…yeah, you’re a perv, but that’s beside the point.”

Joel exhaled a little harder through his nose. He pressed the underside of your palm again, ensuring the bloodflow had stopped, then swapped the napkin for the bandage. The adhesive might’ve been in place for two seconds before he was retreating again; this time, to the fridge.

“Then what was the point?”

Joel yanked one door open. You glanced over your shoulder to the one that led out to the back porch.

The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to go.

Go.

GO!

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure why you’d decided to make Joel the profile in the first place. Your curiosity, for one thing, had been one hell of a persuasive motivator to getting you scrolling on Joel’s behalf, but why did you care one way or another if your neighbor was drowning in pussy or enduring Sahara desert-levels of dick deprivation at his big age? It sure as fuck wasn’t your business to care, and nothing about Joel Miller had ever intrigued you consistently enough to venture an inquiry about his personal life before, so…

“Why?”

Joel was looming overhead again, the force of his presence like a fist through your chest. In an effort to steady your breaths, you turned your gaze away from his.

“I should go.” You couldn’t have dodged his last question more clumsily, or pathetically, if you’d tried, “It’s…late.”

Outside, the midday sun was still high in the sky, and there was nowhere in the world you had to be, Joel knew.

“Okay,” he said at length.

Then he leaned in closer and held something out.

“At least take one for the road, alright?”

And he was smiling, almost kind.

You looked down and—shit.

There it was, clear as day: a creamy piña colada popsicle.

The sneaky, conceited motherfucker had remembered what you’d written in his dating profile. You winced.

You accepted the cocktail popsicle without a word.

‘Thanks’ or ‘You’re a fucking pig, Miller’ likely would’ve sufficed for a farewell on any account, but by then, you were far too shell-shocked—and frankly, incredulous—of everything that had just transpired over the course of the last thirty minutes. You didn’t thank Mr. Miller, nor insult him by likening him to swine or any other thing; you left.

Your feet carried you fast out of his house.

Down the steps of his back porch, across pristine, power-washed concrete, past seemingly endless beds of hibiscus blossoms, marigolds, cape plumbago, and those god-awful periwinkle plants—who the fuck enjoyed gardening in a heatwave, anyway?—you practically sprinted away in a fugue state until the toes of your shoes hit the edge of your lawn, then you stopped.

“FUCK!”

You’d forgotten your phone.

It felt as though your body were turning in slow motion, and for a second, you seriously considered abandoning the device altogether and begging your dad for another. Then you set your sights on the wide, uninviting exterior of the back of your neighbor’s house, the place you’d just been hauling ass to escape, and almost rolled your eyes.

Joel was leaning back against the frame of his open back door, arms crossed, expression smug as he watched you.

It was extraordinarily difficult to throw a half-decent punch at a man while wielding a popsicle in your hand.

“Give it back!” you barked.

“Give what back?” Joel grinned, easily side-stepping what struck him as neither a punch nor a slap—in fact, the hit never struck him at all. He laughed as it missed.

“You know what.”

Of course, you’d gone back. Of course, Joel had tried to play dumb and pretend like you’d never left your phone behind at all. And of course, he hadn’t budged until you’d threatened to shove your left foot so far up his ass his dentist would be picking toes out of his teeth for weeks.

‘Violent little thing, ain’t ya?’ Joel had replied, chuckling.

Then, when he’d attempted to brush you aside with a patronizing wave of his hand and an admonition to run on back to daddy and quit buggin’ me, all bets were off. You’d aimed right for center mass and nearly dropped your frozen treat with how hard you’d shoved his chest.

That was how the conversation had started.

That was how the so-called ‘altercation’ had come to be—Joel easily swatting you off and indulging you no further than to chuckle and laugh and taunt you like an older brother who was faced with a sibling half his size—and all the while, your injured hand was throbbing again. White, sticky rivers of melted popsicle now trickled down your wrist instead of blood, and you were just as pissed.

“Listen—” Joel began, catching a fist meant for his face.

“Gimme my fuckin’ phone, Miller!”

“—you—”

“Can go to hell.”

“—owe me.”

“Owe you?!”

You stopped. Your weak, one-handed assault was halted just long enough to peer into Joel’s eyes, and the gaze that met yours was solid. Sincere as you’d ever seen it and blinking slow as the chocolate browns of his irises moved lower over you. Whether they were drinking you in, sizing you up, or merely plotting your demise by calculated turns, you could have been no more certain, or prepared to hear, what came out of his mouth next:

“Wanted to do me a favor, didn’t ya? C’mere.”

And the next thing you knew—or felt—was one thick finger hooking into your belt loops. One swift tug in his direction, another light push toward the old wood railing to your side, and then more fingers crowding in, crawling over, seizing the coarse denim material and pulling hard like the thing was the single most annoying impediment.

“Take these off,” Joel grunted.

You were too stunned to move. Even breathing felt like a chore, every last sense elevated to impossible heights, it wasn’t surprising at all when Joel just went and did it all himself. In a blink, your shorts were yanked down and then dropped to your ankles, your legs guided backward in shuffled steps, and then, nearly tripping in the fabric at your feet, you fell back, ass smacking the flat railing. You winced at the warm, knotty texture of the cedar beneath you and, out of habit, shot the old man a look.

Joel cocked a brow in response, likely already knowing what that glare from you was intended to convey, and instead of giving voice to any words himself, just sank.

Lower and lower and lower, until his knees were the only things holding him upright on the floor before you and his hands were pressing—melting—into your thighs.

Audibly, his kneecaps cracked.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

While Mr. Miller’s mouth moved dangerously close to a place you should’ve been appalled to see him go, all you felt capable of doing in that absurd moment, it seemed, was laugh. You gripped the thick white column beside you, scooted back slightly until you were in a comfier seated position, then snagged your lower lip between your teeth to contain the sound, but it was of no use.

Joel was both drooling and scowling between your legs.

“That funny, huh?” he managed in a low, ragged breath, “Sound’a some crackin’ joints on a man as old as me?”

“Yeah,” you said. Smug, for once.

Admittedly, any other normal person in your position would’ve been concerned with about a million different, more pressing issues—namely, your neighbor and dad’s best friend sticking his face between your legs—but really, after all the frivolity, commotion, and fucking insane behavior the two of you that day, it was like your brain had logged off and left the body to its own devices.

You didn’t mind that for right now.

When Joel’s tongue grazed the space between the cusp of your panties and inner thigh, you really didn’t mind.

Fuck it. If this was the favor he’d wanted after all, so be it.

As if reconsidering the foray of his mouth for the time being, Joel tilted back a little: just far enough to get his hands on your underwear and start tearing those down your hips too. One short, hot puff of air from his lips was a bliss unto itself, and your knees instinctively kicked up. With the thin white fabric barely halfway down one calf, you hooked your ankle over Joel’s shoulder and cursed.

“My daddy’s gonna kill you for this, Mr. Miller.”

And, for what felt like the thousandth time, Joel smiled.

Bigger this time, as if to show he didn’t really care at all what the man next door was liable to say or do about his present endeavor as long as he got to stay. You let him.

He pressed a kiss to your slick, puffy lips and hummed.

“Fine by me.”

Without another word the tip of the man’s tongue glided up the length of your slit and curled in, drawing your arousal between his lips in a hungry sort of kiss, and then sank even deeper. Going nose-deep in just one go, the old man looked positively obscene burying his face so far inside; his features alone a cruel, unseemly sort of fixture between legs as smooth and supple and warm as yours—how did a man so many years your senior get to be so lucky?—and somewhere further, in the darkest recesses of your mind, the sight sparked desire. A hunger, really.

Seeing that silver, stubbled chin getting drenched in your wetness, the weathered lines of his face growing even deeper with each new movement of his tongue, the strain in his neck with muscles that were firm and taut and so visibly aged with decades and decades of life—

You adored it.

A man Joel’s age never looked more out of place and still somehow perfectly fit for the space between your thighs.

You lowered the hand that was cradling your popsicle, braced your weight against the railing with the other, and then pressed on either side of his skull with your legs, quiet moans tumbling one after the next off your tongue.

“‘S’all for me?” Joel breathed, licking and suckling kisses along your clit, “This sweet, needy pussy’s all mine?”

“All yours.”

You scarcely recognized the sound of your own voice. Your legs were shaking. Though you loved to see him make you come undone, piece-by-piece, you also couldn’t bring yourself to stare a second longer, stimulation too great and his tongue too good.

If he kept going at a rate like this, you’d have no choice but to cum, and you didn’t want to be done just yet. Or ever. You refocused your gaze to look down and tell him as much, when your mouth fell open around a gasp, rather than words, and the weight in your hand fell away.

Swiftly, Joel took the popsicle in his own grasp and slid it down to the vicinity of his lips and tongue, now grinning.

The thing was half-melted by now, having sufficiently soaked half your forearm and leaving a vague, sugary aroma in its wake, but it was still intact. Still unlicked—unlike you—and still perfectly cool and light and long. The off-white hue was almost taunting in the way it winked and caught rays of the sunlight shining behind you, and as the man slid it even lower, you jumped back.

“Joel,” you hissed.

“What?” he hummed.

“That’s not—” You blinked, swallowing a moan.

“Not what?”

One warm, callused hand pressed the tip of the frozen thing to your bundle of nerves—the first contact it had had since Joel’s tongue—and you let out a low whine.

Even after all that time in the sun, the popsicle seared your soft, wet, aching parts with a biting cold you’d never thought possible. It sent waves of a strange, trembling pleasure coursing through your lower half and left your head with no choice but to moan. And fist Joel’s hair in a vice-like grip when he angled the wooden stick lower.

Suddenly, the white, sticky head slipped from your clit to the rim of your yet-untouched entrance, and that made your muscles leap to attention once again. You cursed.

“Not what, honey?” Joel pressed, with affection—and as he did, sank the tip of the popsicle deeper inside you.

“Th— that’s not—” You were shaking your head, racking your brain for any trace of the English language and failing miserably, “Not…doesn’t…g-go there, fuck.”

Joel sank the pretty, dribbling popsicle another inch inside your pussy and sucked a whistle through his teeth. If your senses weren’t as raw and utterly shot as they were, you likely would’ve seen the expression on his face transform from one of pleasure and amusement to awe, eyes darkening at the sight of your hole opening wider.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he cooed, voice low.

Another couple soft utterances of ‘Joel,’ and your legs only parted wider. Free to grip his hair, the railing, the column beside you, or just the insides of your own palm as the icy sensation sank inwards and into your body, you whimpered. Your hips, instinctively, bucked toward the source, and you heard Joel’s groan join your sounds.

He withdrew his new toy just far enough to make you mewl for him again, then drove it deeper. With the friction of that, a stream of white went trickling out.

Joel couldn’t help himself; he flattened his tongue against the stream and licked you clean from the spot where he’d split you open to the cusp of your clit. He circled that place over and over, worked the object in his hand even further inside and back out again, then, getting a taste of your arousal with the white, wet, sticky-sweet juices starting to mix together, he moaned.

It was a guttural sound, something just shy of the ‘feral’ demarcation but at least ten steps ahead of desperate. You relished the gruff, throaty sound reverberating from his lips to your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around it and for him, and were just about to throw your head back and grind your hips even harder when it stopped.

Joel stopped. He started to get up.

Quickly for him, but slow as molasses from your point of view, the man straightened from his place on the hard wooden floor and expelled a breath. His chest heaved, and his torso twisted to one side, momentarily, to get the strain out of his back as best he could. From where you sat, the spattering of grey in his beard seemed to glisten even brighter with the sheen of your arousal now sticking in it. He wiped his chin and reached in between your legs.

“Got any favors left in ya, sweet pea?” he smirked.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t sound like a question at all, and didn’t appear to be intended that way, as the next second had Joel pulling the largely-spent popsicle out of your slick and straight into your mouth. He didn’t inquire whether he could push it down on your tongue and make you taste your own cunt on the thin wooden stick, but the smile on your lips assured him that was fine by you.

Nor did he ask for your permission to flip you around, bend you over his porch railing, and take your hips in his hands. You were still sucking down the last traces of sugar and citrus and a vaguely tangy taste when you felt the head of something else prod your soft, wet folds.

Much bigger—and warmer—than the thing that had breached you before, Joel nudged at your hole with the tip of his cock, coated the head of it in light, gentle circles, and sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to ask, and you didn’t need to answer; he just parted your walls with the force of one steadying thrust, and the pulse of that sharp, dizzying pleasure was back in an instant.

Shared this time, and manifesting in sounds from you and Joel alike: you gritting the stick between your teeth and managing muffled cries of his name and whatever expletives you could scream, Joel with ragged breaths.

For a man who ostensibly hadn’t fucked since the Clinton administration, he was off to a pretty good start.

Joel gripped your hip even tighter and started to saw his cock in and out of your dripping, pliant hole, his other fist finding purchase in your hair for more leverage. His thrusts were shallow enough at first to get you used to the new stretch, and you could feel him making space in a way no man’s girth ever had before. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it had come to settle into a mix of guilt, rigid composure, and pussydrunk pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured behind you. Then, groaning, “Good fuckin’ girl, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that.”

You felt a slap on the ass and the speed of his thrusts pick up in turn. Your mouth fell open in a moan, and the stick on your tongue almost slipped out of place when, shortly, Joel leaned over your body and pulled you back. He snagged the popsicle stick between his teeth just in time to get your back flush with his front—in perfect position to get fucked against the nearest column.

Breaths coming out in short, ragged grunts in your ear, Joel teased the side of your face with the stick, then nudged it back in your mouth. You sucked it softly.

“One more favor, baby?” he panted against your cheek.

You nodded, not knowing what it was but that you wanted to be the one giving it. Joel pulsed inside you.

With every stab of his cock, every string of your wet, messy, combined arousals making the most profane noises imaginable between your body and his, you were squeezing him tighter and teetering on release. Joel’s hand snaked down between your legs, and just as the head of his cock nudged against that spot, you keened.

“Any favor?” Joel groaned and nipped at your earlobe.

The heft of his stomach and chest made for a warm, sturdy place to start rocking your hips, greying peach fuzz at the base of his belly a small comfort as you writhed against his body and whined that you’d do anything, anything he wanted, as long as he let you cum.

Joel’s middle finger found your clit, and you nearly screamed at the welt of pleasure coming to a head. Again, the popsicle stick tumbled out, but neither one of you could be bothered to try and keep it in this time.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

The man behind you didn’t even attempt to conceal his grin as he leaned closer, hugging your body to his while he circled your clit and fucked you harder, lips straying every now and then to press a kiss on your shoulder. He plunged his cock deeper and was met with a squeezing, leaking mess trickling down his length and onto his balls, growing louder with each new wet slap against your ass. The old man was a tease, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

“Wanna fill you up,” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside?” you murmured.

You were barely able to tilt your chin to him, but when you did, he held it—made you look him in the eyes and, for once, give your unequivocal permission to do it then.

And you did.

You were startled to find Joel’s lips crashing against yours in the next second, mouth overwhelmed with the remains of your own taste, his tongue, and a series of relentless, hammering thrusts. It was only a matter of moments, then, before your resolve gave way and his followed suit, and the waves of pleasure between you both manifested in ropes of sticky, hot cum painting your walls. Joel held you closer, as though needing to feel his seed as he fucked you through it, groaning when he felt it start to move with each sharp, stuttered thrust.

You panted in his mouth coming down. You kissed him back. You almost couldn’t believe the sensation between your legs, soon to come dripping out and undoubtedly bound to make a mess all over the floor of Joel’s porch.

Equally unbelievable was the fact that you’d just fucked your neighbor in broad daylight, outside, with Marlene’s house directly to your left and your own on the right.

You stared out at the sprawling expanse in front of you—Joel’s impeccably kempt yard, one of the reasons why you were standing where you were just then—and, as you’d found yourself before, you felt the urge to laugh.

Not on account of Joel’s old, ailing knees, this time.

Clearly, the man still trying to catch his breath behind you suspected that that might’ve been the case, though, because you felt him shift his weight and grunt, lightly.

“What’s so funny? My knees crack when I cum, too?”

You could feel the smallest of scowls start to take shape, muted momentarily with kisses that he pressed on your cheek, and others, still more teasing, down your neck.

You let him, unfazed and still giggling. Then pointing.

It seemed Joel was loath to detach his lips from your neck—or his cock from the place he’d just stuffed full—but when you lifted your finger to indicate a direction toward the side of his backyard, his senses perked up.

There, along the white picket fence between his yard and Marlene’s, was the furry, merciless, lawn-destroying labradoodle that had been plaguing Joel’s life for years.

The man was out of you in an instant. He yanked his jeans up even quicker, tucking his dick back, clumsily, into its place in a fit of rage, then cupping his hands:

“WILL YOU FUCK THE HELL OFF, SPARKY?!”

[gynoidgearhead]

It feels deeply weird to be doing this, but I am steadily losing it in my current living situation.

I have no job, no degree, no savings, no transportation, and severely compromised privacy. I am located in a suburb of Phoenix where high temperatures and urban sprawl make it very difficult to get anywhere without a car. Exactly zero of these things have gotten better in the last five years; several have gotten worse.

Without outside intervention, I am now further away from independence than ever.

The situation with my parents is... complicated. While my parents are supportive of me being transgender, and have up to now paid my basic living expenses with few conditions, my father has expressed vehemently over the past year that he wants me out of here as soon as possible. My father is abrasive to both me and my mother, and placating him is getting increasingly difficult. Though he hasn't done it recently, he has also thrown things at me in the past, and I have been sleeping with my door locked for most of the time I have been moved back in with my parents.

I am autistic and have some pretty serious mental health problems, including lifelong OCD and general anxiety. I have been having panic attacks semi-regularly for the past two and a half years. My dad is pretty impatient with me for being autistic, and my mom continuously tries to flatten the dynamic between the two of us as having both of us be equally at fault, often even in the next breath after admitting she can't deal with my dad either.

I'm trying. I am doing literally everything I can to balance keeping my parents satisfied against me not wanting to die. I wouldn't be asking for help if I thought I could handle my current situation.

To anyone who donates, thank you all in advance; and please don't donate if it's going to compromise your own safety.

It's go time.

My fiancee, aka, my queer anarchist wife with whom I do not have legal unity yet, is currently living in an abusive situation that I haven't been able to extricate her from for internet lesbian reasons.

Please reblog this, and if you can spare even a few dollars every little bit will help us to get her away from that, into some newer, safer accomodations, where we can stay together until everyone in our little queer caravan is all ready to pack up our things and move north together.