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How long will Apple do 60 Hz in their US $800 base models of iPhone? @MKBHD
Smart marketing strategy ? More profits? Check iPhone sales. Seems it doesn’t matter for most people.
If a $70 Tecno Spark Go1 can support a fast 120Hz screen, so can the iPhone16!!
#AppleEvent
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First game was SS/HG on the DS, played it with a couple local friends. It started as a very simple “Oh, you gotta trace the stylus back and forth on the touch screen,” to the rhythm of the Pokéball as it shook. But sometimes it wouldn’t work!! We were doing it perfectly, so our technique was clearly misled.
One of us had an idea—the Pokéball shaking is a good thing, it means you’re getting closer to a catch. “So why don’t we shake our DSs along with it!” that fool [approximately] said, dooming us all.
The moral of the story is that one of the screen’s hinges snapped on my DS within days of this development and made half the screen devolve into mysterious glowing lines
pokemon people I got a question: what was your urban legend for upping your capture rates? I was told after a ball was thrown hold down b
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Hello! I love your work 🥹 I hope you are well
Just wanna ask your thoughts on how the seventeen members would react to see you driving speed / you being fast on connected apps like ‘Find My’ heheheeheh
Thank you ❤️
a/n: thank u sweetie, i loved it!! im doing well!! <33 i hope i understood well.. like a gearhead girlfriend?... made w/ luv ❤️
WARNINGS: mentions of breakig the speed limit
seungcheol: “yo yo yo, slow the fuck down, we ain’t tryna die today!!” he’s literally shouting through the app, and you could almost see him gripping the imaginary 'oh shit' handle in the backseat. he loves you, but he’s lowkey shitting bricks rn, “bruh, this ain't fast & furious... i swear if we crash, it’s on you.”
jeonghan: sigh “baby, why you gotta be like this?” he’s too cool to actually panic, but you can feel him judging the fuck outta you. he’ll make you feel like the most irresponsible person alive while also making it clear he’s kinda impressed. “next time, let me drive so we don’t both end up with speeding tickets… but like… you kinda look hot doing it though, not gonna lie.” he’s smirking on the other side of the screen.
joshua: “ok but like… are we trying to break a record or what?” he’s nervous but trying to stay calm, but you can tell he’s clutching his pearls behind that smooth tone. “maybe, uh, we could slow down just a tiny bit? just a suggestion...” definitely trying not to freak out completely, but he’s one bad swerve from straight-up praying.
jun’s all for it, honestly. he’s got his phone up to show the speedometer on his end, clearly thriving. “you wanna hit 120? bet, i’m down, let’s fucking go!” jun’s just living it, probably snapping selfies like it’s no big deal while the car’s shaking at 90 mph.
hoshi: “wait—WAIT! y/n, no no NO, what the hell?? slow down before i shit my pants.” he close his eyes, dramatic as fuck, genuinely convinced y’all are about to fly off the highway. nearly crying as he clutches his phone. “i got shit to do tomorrow!! i can’t die today, not like this!”
wonwoo’s just... chillin’. he doesn’t really say much at first. just sends a simple, “you good?” text. he’s the only one calm in this whole situation. when you don’t respond right away, he hits you with, “bet you won’t keep up with the guy in the ferrari tho...” and you’re like, oh shit. he’s egging you on. he's vibing with the chaos, but lowkey wants to see how far you'll take it.
woozi: “y/n, you better chill the fuck out.” straight-up scolding you. no fluff, just pure frustration. jihoon’s too rational for this speed demon shit, and he’s already calculating how much the damn fine’s gonna be if you get caught. “if you crash, you better hope i’m not in the car, ‘cause i ain’t helping your ass.” classic jihoon—pissed, but still kinda impressed at your audacity.
seokmin: “YO, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!” pure panic in his voice,like he’s watching a horror movie. “do you wanna give me a heart attack? holy shit!!” he’s basically pleading with you at this point, full-on hands shaking, worried sick like a damn mother hen. “i’m way too pretty to die like this, please, for the love of god, just slow down.”
mingyu: WELL THIS MAN HAVE LICENSE FOR IT, no fear at all. “you drive like a fucking beast, lemme hop in the car next time.” he’s fully living for the thrill, no reservations whatsoever. he’s gassing you up like no one would. adrenaline junkie.
minghao’s already over it. deadpan as fuck. “why you gotta stress me like this? i’m way too zen for this shit.”
seungkwan: “OKAY STOP! STOP! i didn’t sign up for this kinda trauma. you tryna die young, huh?!” yelling in the app for you to pull over before he passes out from sheer anxiety. “i’m never getting in a car with you ever again, swear on my life.”
vernon: “i mean, if we crash, we crash. kinda sick though, right?” no panic, no complaints, just lowkey impressed. “but like… how fast can you actually go?”
chan: “y/n, this isn’t a fucking video game!” poor baby is stressed out, clenching his fists like his life’s on the line. “i can’t do this. my heart can’t handle this. you tryna give me a heart attack?!” genuinely scared shitless. “you really gotta slow down before i fucking pass out in the toilet bro”
#seventeen reactions#seventeen imagines#seventeen headcanons#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#seventeen agnst#seungcheol x reader#yoon jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#hoshi x reader#dino x reder#minghao x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#jun x reader#mingyu x reader#seokmin x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#chan x reader
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Terror fans will be like "yeah I'm doing a watchthrough focusing only on this one character and ignoring everyone else except for when someone interacts with the character" and the character in question will be a background character's background character whose face is never fully shown and who has no lines and only 120 seconds of screen time
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Helloo! I saw your request open so I thought to myself let's ask something bout shoyoo!! I want to see how shoyo looks like in ur cute writing hehe, So may I ask for hinata shoyo with anything domestic related? I would love to live in a world where he's my husband. SORRY FOR THEBLONG ASK I hope you're alright with it, have a great day!
late nights
character: shoyo hinata
word count: 707
warning(s): soft husband!hinata, might be slightly ooc but idc, fluff
content: hinata’s new training schedule makes for long days, and you, as his biggest fan, try to wait up for him. does it work? (it doesn’t.)
a/n: MY SWEET ANON!!! i’m so sorry i’m answering this so late—writer’s block was eating me alive pls forgive me. in return, here’s some sweet shoyo <3
Everyone knew Hinata Shoyo was a hard worker—he put blood, sweat, and tears into his sport, gave 100% effort into everything he did. So when he was chosen to represent the Japan Men’s National Volleyball Team in the Olympics, he knew he had to start giving 120% daily. Even earlier mornings, later nights, longer practice days—he took it all in strides, just honored to be afforded this monumental opportunity as a pro-player.
His muscles ached from practice, his hair still damp from the quick locker-room shower. It began curling slightly at the ends as occasional droplets of water fell onto his shirt. A tired sigh left his lips as he opened the door to his humble little one-bedroom apartment.
He quietly entered and slipped off his shoes, the only noise in the apartment being the ticking of the clock. Though in his peripheral, he noticed a light on in the main room—were you still awake??
Entering the living room, the TV had Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” on the screen, and a bowl of what used to be popcorn—only a couple kernels left—sat on the table. He rounded the corner to find you lying on the couch, sleeping soundly, despite the bright TV casting a glow on your face.
Taking in the sight of you, he suddenly felt his cheeks grow hot. You were sporting one of his MSBY shirts—even now, he always reverted into a goofy, lovesick boy at the smallest actions and in the most innocent moments. A simple little kiss? His cheeks are scarlet. You whispering a soft I love you every night before bed? The tips of his ears burn. Just looking at him with a small smile and hearts in your eyes? With a stutter, he’d turn so red that you wouldn’t help but laugh.
By the state of your uncomfortable position on the couch, it was obvious you tried to stay awake to see his return, and his heart ached at the thought. He wished he could stay with you every day and never leave the comfort of your arms.
But of course, you understood the importance of this new adventure—you’d never want to get in way of his dreams. You knew just how hard your husband worked for this very moment, and here it was, staring him in the face and holding out a welcoming hand.
Hinata knelt down, his face level with yours as he studied your sleeping face. Your mouth was slightly parted, causing you to have the softest snore that he found so adorable. Your face was slightly smushed in one of the throw pillows that you picked out. He couldn’t help but smile as he reached a gentle hand to your face, gently tucking some hair behind your ear.
“Wakey wakey,” he whispered as he intertwined his fingers with yours and lightly squeezed your hand. Your eyes barely cracked open, and you let out a soft whine from the awkward position now leaving a crick in your back.
After blinking a couple times and making out some striking orange hair, you mumbled out a soft, “Sho?”
He smiled, his eyes soft with love. “Hey there, sunshine. C’mere,” he scooped you up and carried you like you were weightless, “let’s get you to bed.” You nuzzled into his neck, smelling the subtle citrus scent of his body wash. In the mere seconds it took to walk from the couch to your shared bed, Hinata figured you slipped back into dreamland again. While tucking you into bed, his voice was low and soothing as he whispered how he missed you, how he loved you.
Slipping between the bedsheets, his eyes caught your sleepy gaze. Turns out, you were awake. “I’m sorry I’m home so late,” he whispered, his fingers carding through your hair, “Go on back to sleep, pretty girl. I love you.”
With the moonlight slipping through the curtains, Hinata saw your cheek meet his wrist as you leaned into his touch. You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his skin and mumbling, “Just glad you’re here now. I love you.”
And with that last declaration of unconditional love, Hinata fell asleep knowing he could do absolutely anything, so long as he had you by his side.
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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.
#hinata#hinata shoyo#hinata x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#hinata shouyou x reader#hinata shouyou fluff#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#hinata fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fluff#hinata shōyō#hinata shoyo fluff#hinata haikyuu#haikyuu drabbles#hinata shoyo haikyuu#hq x reader#haikyuu fic#hq fluff#haikyuu!!#hinata shouyou#hinata shoyo x you#haikyuu requests#olympics#gooo shoyo!!#hinata shoyo you are the standard.#my sunshine boy <3#bokutoko fics#bokutoko requests
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So I was watching the latest video from chad chad (female youtuber, love her) and she was explaining a new trend to film and bully service workers into giving them bigger food portions. In order to showcase how ridiculous this is, she made a male youtuber make her a sandwich and she bullied him the entire time. Seeing a woman talk down to a man making her a sandwich helped my mental health, I was feeling way better after experiencing this. I was already happy.
But! Then he tried to explain that he is not a NPC; he's a 3-dimensional person, he has children for gods sake! And on the screen there was a message 'Can't make a turkey sandwich, but can make a baby make it make sense' and this just sent me to another level. We need this, lets do this, every male who took it upon himself to make babies without having basic culinary skills, shame, shame them all. Make it a new standard they need to be able to complete 120 basic home chores before they're allowed even an attempt at making a baby. This is where the world needs to go they need to be shamed mercilessly for lacking even one household skill lets do it!!!!!
#women on youtube doing their job correctly#i would say doing gods work but i consider women gods already#chad chad#radical feminism#i need to boost chad chat in my female youtubers post#shes hilarious and based
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warning(s) pure angst, jjk chapter 120 SPOILERS
arguments with kento are always the worst.
you’ve learned over the years that you’d probably prefer it if he would just scream back when he’s mad rather than being dead silent.
because when he’s angry, he doesn’t speak. he just gives you space to cool off, then he always makes sure to kiss you before you sleep. a way to let you know that tomorrow is a new day and he still loves you the same even if things are heated; that you can always talk it out with him.
you hate it because he always, always apologizes first even if it’s your fault sometimes, but you always appreciated his way of communicating. it’s as if he would rather take the jab every time than have you mad at him.
however, he couldn’t do so that day— october 31, 2018. he had to go to shibuya and left with tension between the two of you. you don’t even remember what exactly you argued about— all you recall was that it ended with you both saying something that could’ve easily passed as unforgivable, words specifically chosen to wound each other’s feelings.
and as per, kento gave you your space and left with you having the last word.
except you never got that good night’s kiss.
when news reached you, you didn’t even react. how could you? the last words you said to him was “then leave already,” with the coldest, meanest tone you’ve ever spoken to him in.
you just stared at the wall for what seemed like days. people were calling you non stop, but your phone was turned off. you hadn’t even left your shared bedroom. the comforter still had his scent on it and you’re afraid that it’ll disappear if you get up for even a minute and then his passing will feel real.
it wasn’t until ino stopped by to drop off his cellphone— one of the only traces he left that night— that you did something else besides laying down. you stared at kento’s scuffed lock screen, sitting at the dim dining room table.
his wallpaper was a photo of you. he took it while you were eating in the very place you’re sitting in right now and you begged him for days to delete it. he insisted that you looked pretty so you let him be. he’d always been like that, so stern with others but he had such a soft spot for you.
you knew his password because it was your anniversary date, then the messaging app opened as soon as you punched the numbers in. it’s your chat, the last conversation you had on there was him asking if you wanted to eat outside because he was free the next morning and you obliged. that was the night before you had an argument the next day and lunch plans were cancelled.
he had an unsent message— all typed out, but he never pressed the send button for some reason.
he was apologizing for hurting you.
he said that he knows it’s been tough for you these days and how he should’ve seen the signs sooner instead of thinking everything’s okay.
then he apologized again for not being able to kiss you goodnight, and for being a shitty husband that couldn’t tend to his wife’s needs.
the message concluded with “i miss you, my precious girl. make sure to eat and sleep well, i’ll make it up to you soon.”
kento’s death hadn’t hit your reality until those words on the screen registered in your mind. your dry, pale lips from barely drinking water trembled, eyes welled up in tears for the first time since you found out. so many different emotions crashed over you in such little time, your chest felt tight and you let go of his phone, clattering onto the wooden table.
“then leave already,” replayed in your mind over and over and the way his face turned pale from your harsh words. with how things turned out, it almost sounded like you were sending him on death’s row and it made you feel like you’re responsible somehow.
guilt loomed over you like a stormy cloud for making him feel like he wasn’t good enough for you and you wonder how different the future might’ve turned out if you’ve at least gave him a hug before he left.
if you could’ve just set your pride aside and kissed him goodbye like he does with you before you sleep.
and if he still loved you the same at his final moments.
#yikes#why am i feeling guilty lolol#mentally preparing myself when it gets animated#might not be accurate to the plot but tbh idc#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk angst#nanami angst#kento nanami#nanami kento angst
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Pride Backlighting Tutorial
A few people have shown interest in replicating the pride backlighting I did, so hey, here’s a quick tutorial below the cut.
Enjoy, and happy Pride Month. 🏳️🌈
STEP 1 — SETUP
First thing you’ll want to do is find a suitably dark background to bounce the light off of. I use the White Screen housing item dyed Soot Black, available from the Housing Merchant or Apartment Merchant in any of the housing zones for 3000 gil.
I line up 2-3 of them for coverage, but one will do if you're trying to be frugal.
If you don’t have an apartment or an FC room to use, try asking friends, FC mates, or even folks you share a Discord server with. You might even find someone who already has a studio space set up and is willing to let you use it!
Lighting in your studio space should be 0 (though you might have success at 1 as well), so make sure to adjust that or ask the studio owner if they can make that change before you start posing.
STEP 2 — GPOSE
Position your character(s) just a little ways back from the edge of the screen. You want some space between them and the screen so that the lighting can float there without casting a weird circle on the wall.
Hop into /gpose and bump up the “Manual brightness adjustment” to about 120 or whatever level allows you to see your character well enough to pose them. Pose to your heart's content.
STEP 3 — LIGHTS
Here’s the fun part. In the Light tab of the Gpose menu, switch all of your Light sources to Type 1, which has the shortest falloff radius (meaning it doesn't reach as far as Type 2 or 3). I also set all of my lights to one strong color to differentiate them while I worked on lighting—red, green, and blue, all maxed out at 255 (for now).
Swing your camera (still on all default settings) around to your character’s back and up above their head a little ways. This is where Light 1 (red) will go.
Now pan your camera down at about mid-back height and set Light 2 (green) there.
Pan your camera down one last time until you have a nice shot of your character’s butt and set Light 3 (blue).
Spin your camera back around and enjoy this nice little macaw-colored gradient.
STEP 4 — CAMERA
Set your camera angle.
The way FFIXV’s lighting works is partially dependent on how much light is in a shot. It will adjust a lot like your eyes do when you’re entering a dark room from a bright room, or vice versa. Your zoom level and camera angle are going to directly affect the lighting, so set this before you start messing with light strength and color. Sometimes this means weaker lighting will actually light your character better.
I ended up bringing my lights down to around ~160 and boosted the "Manual brightness adjustment" up quite a bit to get lighting I was happier with.
For a straightforward vertical shot, I like to have my Field of View (FOV) at 200 and of course my rotation is set to 90. Zoom in or out as needed. Remember to save your camera angle if you plan to pan around and fix things!
STEP 5 — COLOR
Make it ~queer~.
Take your flag of choice and pick out 2-3 “main” hues. Generally these will be the strongest hues in the flag, if not the only ones. Some flags, like the Pride/Progress/Intersex-Inclusive flag itself, are difficult to replicate for the sheer number of colors that are in it. You can loosely represent a rainbow with some adjustment to the RGB colors, if you’re determined to have a whole rainbow in there.
Shader Note: I recommend picking a shader preset that doesn’t mess too much with color so that colors are represented correctly. You may need to adjust light strength and “Manual brightness adjustment” to be compatible with your preset of choice. Bloom will also heavily affect the way your colors are showing up, so you may need to tone down the bloom FX or toggle it off entirely. This all depends on your preset, however.
If you’re not into RGB math, here are some cheat sheets! Not every flag is represented here of course, but I tried to cover as many colors as I could so that you could grab a color from another flag as needed! Please note that colors will need some adjustment for your own screenshot, presets, and preferences.
And that’s it, y’all! 🏳️🌈
(Open this image up in a new tab for more detail.)
These were taken using a heavily customized shader for that nice glowy effect.
#ffxiv#ffxiv screenshots#[ ooc ]#[ tutorials ]#i didn't actually have a tutorial tag but#now i do#enjoy ❤️
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Paper Rings [Part 5/10 | Paige Bueckers]
paige bueckers x fem!reader
summary: the morning after
a/n: i love making people cry so some pretty angsty stuff up ahead 😁 forgive me for turning paige into a slight asshole
word count: 1.8k
masterlist w/ all parts
FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR AGO
The green LED light on Paige’s alarm clock blinked 3:07 AM. Paige had been up for the past two hours. Tossing and turning seemed like the right phrase, but she didn’t want to wake you, so all the turmoil stayed inside her head.
A burst of warmth ran through her body and flooded her senses whenever she looked at you. You were curled up against her side, lightly snoring. You looked so soft in the moonlight, and Paige wanted to take a photo of you like this and ingrain it inside her brain. But her mind’s been running non stop for the past 120 minutes, overcome with regret over what you two had just done.
Paige had always known of her tendencies. She wouldn’t call herself a player, because she never intentionally led girls on. She always made it clear to her one night stands what they were - a hookup, with no strings attached. But some girls never seemed to get it. Every so often there would be someone who got attached to Paige after just one night together and ended up leaving her apartment in tears, cursing her name. She hated when that happened, hated seeing them cry.
So she vowed to herself never to sleep with you. Not because she didn’t want you, because God knows how many sleepless nights she spent in this very bed, dreaming about the pink of your lips and the curve of your hips. But because she knew how complicated things would get. Your friendship was the one thing that had remained stable in Paige’s life the past few years. There mere thought of losing you made her heart pound and head throb.
So Paige had stayed strong. Never mind all those moments where her hands had lingered on your waist a little too long, or the fact that the wallpaper of her lock screen and home screen were both pictures with you, or the fact that you were the only person pinned on her messages app besides her family. She knew she couldn’t have you.
Paige brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, letting the pad of her thumb trail down your cheek. You stirred in your sleep, a smile drifting faintly across your lips, and shifted closer to her, burying your face in her abdomen. And in that moment, Paige realized two things.
#1. She was in love with you. Yeah, she’d always loved you as a friend. You were thoughtful and supportive, a best friend a person could ask for. But beyond that, you made her feel seen. To you, Paige wasn’t just a basketball player or a pretty face. You had broken through her barriers and made the effort to know her on every level, and that was what Paige in love with you.
#2. She didn’t deserve you. Paige thought back to all those times she’d canceled on movie nights because somehow she’d ended up again at the bar with her teammates, flirting with pretty girls while the prettiest girl sat alone in her room. Or when she’d briefly dated Anna, who had apparently been cold to you for their entire relationship, always making snide comments when Paige wasn’t around. But you had saw how happy Paige was (but not as happy as she was whenever she was with you), and had kept silent, not wanting to ruin Paige’s relationship. And even though Paige had broken up with Anna as soon as she’d found out about her behavior, she couldn’t quiet the voices in her head blaming her for letting someone treat you like that. You were the best person in the world, Paige thought. And you deserve someone who can give you all of that. Not me.
So after having come to those two conclusions, Paige knew what she had to do.
——————————-
You woke up in a daze. Checking your phone, you realized it was only 8 AM. Tired, you slumped back into the pilllow. The events of last night only came back to you when you moved the sheets of Paige’s bed and saw your bra.
You couldn’t help but smile as memories of fisted sheets, shaking legs, and hands intertwined in each other’s hairs came flooding back. You pressed your fingers to your lips, the lips that Paige had kissed over and over again just hours before. You and Paige had slept together, and everything had felt so right. And god, that was the best head you’d ever gotten.
Getting up, you heard clattering in the kitchen and footsteps outside. Assuming it was Paige, you didn’t bother to cover up when the door swung open, but your mouth fell open when you came face to face with Azzi.
“Oh my god!” Azzi shrieked. Both of you stared at each other for a second before you grabbed the comforter off Paige’s bed to cover your body. “Get out, get out, get out!” you yelled.
Azzi slammed the door. Heart beating fast, you rushed to find your clothes. “Did I just see what I thought I saw?” Azzi yelled from the other side of the door.
“Azzi Fudd, I will smack you,” you yelled back as you started to pull on your jeans.
“Did you and Paige sleep together?” She screamed. “Oh my god, she’ll kill me if she finds out I walked in on you like this.”
You fiddled with the buttons on your jeans. “That’s why we’re gonna keep this a secret. You’re not gonna tell anyone we slept together.”
“What?! But now Aaliyah and Nika owe me twenty dollars,” she complained.
You tugged on your shirt. “I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just tell me that three of our closest friends made a bet on us sleeping together.” You opened the door and glared at a sheepish Azzi. “Now where the hell is Paige?”
“I dunno. I heard her leaving an hour ago. I thought I was home alone. You scared the shit out of me,” Azzi side eyed your sex and bed hair, and you ran your hand through it, trying to make it look less messy. “So, how was it?” Azzi leaned towards you with a sly smirk on her face. “Was it good?”
“Oh my god, Azzi.” You pushed her out of the way and grabbed your purse from the couch. “I’m leaving. You better keep your mouth shut.”
“No promises!” Azzi called after you, cackling as you left the apartment.
—————————
5 DAYS LATER
“Open the fucking door, Bueckers.” You rapped on the door of Paige’s apartment, impatiently tapping your foot as you waited.
After you heard noises from inside but she still refused to open the door, you knocked even harder. “I know you’re in there, asshole. Azzi told me you’ve been in here the entire day.”
Finally the door swung open, and I laid eyes on Paige for the first time since we’d slept together 5 days ago. Her hair was in a messy low bun, and she was wearing her grey UConn sweatpants and a sports bra. You ignored the blush that rose from your neck from seeing her bare abdomen, all sculpted and taut, and instead glared at her.
“What the fuck, Paige? You haven’t responded to any of my texts and calls in the last week. Are you seriously ghosting me?” You pushed past her into the apartment.
Paige stared at you, still not saying anything. The last five days had been hell. You knew that sleeping with your best friend would change things. It would be awkward, and unsure, but you and Paige have always been able to figure everything out. So you didn’t expect for her to drop all communication with you, leaving you alone in bed the morning after and then ignoring all your attempts to talk to her after.
Paige smirked at you, but it wasn’t tantalizing and seductive like the last time you saw her. It was sharp, calculated, like she knew something that you didn’t. “Damn, I was that good, wasn’t I?”
“Paige, I need you to be serious right now.” Your voice was rising in pitch, your frustration showing. “We need to talk about us.”
Paige folded her arms, and she had never looked so distant. “What is there to talk about?”
You pushed her, not hard, but enough for her to stumble back. “Okay, so you fucked your best friend, and now you don’t even wanna talk about it?”
Paige swallowed, and she looked away. “We lost in the Final Four that night.”
“Yeah, so?” Your face was flushed red with anger, and you felt hot all over. “What’s that gotta do with anything?”
She turned back to look at you. Her face was impassive now, and you wondered at who this girl in front of you was. It seemed like you didn’t even know her, this version of Paige. “It was a tough game,” she said curtly. “I needed to blow off some steam, and you were there.”
I needed to blow off some steam, and you were there.
You physically recoiled. Those words resounded in your mind, ricocheting from every corner, repeating itself until you went numb. You tasted something bitter in your mouth, a confirmation of what you had been worrying yourself sick about 24/7 for the past several days. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
Paige regarded you coolly. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you thought that night was a declaration of love or something. I mean yeah, you weren’t bad for your first time, but it was just sex.”
A jumble of something terrible and bitter began brewing in your stomach. It was a mixture of anger, and horror, and shock and pain, threatening to spill over. You didn’t know whether you wanted to sob or throw up. That night you had basically admitted to Paige that you had wanted her for so long but…had you been so foolish to believe that she actually liked you back?
“You’re really nothing but a slut, huh,” you scoffed. You felt like a dagger was stabbing you, brutally piercing you in the heart as those words were spit from your mouth, but you were so angry, so furious, you couldn’t stop. “You don’t care about anything but getting laid. You’re so fucking shallow.”
For a moment, you thought you saw hurt flash through Paige’s eyes. But she quickly recovered, and her face turned stony again. “I’m not the one who was like a little fan girl, so desperate that you jumped on me as soon as I gave you the chance.” Her lip curled.
We, whatever we were, were over, and we both knew it. We were throwing out insults, maiming each other in an attempt to mollify our own hurt. We were drowning, and you knew it, god you knew it, your lungs felt on fire and you felt like you were losing everything in my life all at once. And you were too weak to stop it. Too cowardly to apologize, to take all your words back, to tell her you loved her so much, that you would be willing to stay friends and only friends and ignore the fact that you were heads over heels for her, just so she would stay in your life and you could go back to what you were before you made the most stupid decision of your lives.
But none of that came out. Instead, you said words that you didn’t mean.
“Don’t talk to me ever again, Bueckers. I fucking hate you.”
“Gladly.”
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The Raven
Sylus x gn!Reader (more fem coded)
Can be read as a prequel to Lap Dog or as a standalone. (There are inconsistencies when read as a prequel.)
I love them, your honor. I just love the idea of Sylus with a badass partner that he knows can take care of themself. I spent all morning doing nothing but writing this and now my head hurts ;-; worth it
Warnings: violence, injury, implied/reference torture, selectively mute reader, flirting, drinking, alcohol
Word Count: 3,569
Main Masterlist
Love and Deepspace Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form
First Meeting:
A name in whispers spreads around auctions and black market galas. The hush is a silent, fearful reverie for the one who owns it. A prayer to their godhood. It crops up more and more, stoking the flames of curiosity.
The Raven.
Sylus has spent hours trying to dig up scraps of information about this fascinating newcomer, a testament to their ability to stay secret. Usually, he can have everything there is to know about a person in a few minutes or less, down to the second they were born and their favorite places to frequent. It was easy, child’s play. So to come up with mere scraps of speculative guesses at best, it draws him in deeper. The only thing he can find for certain is the protocore purchased by them almost three months ago.
He has an invitation for the next auction before it even becomes announced to other interested parties.
The products on display are boring. He glances at each one, but there’s nothing interesting about them at all. Instead, his attention is focused on the potential buyers who browse each selection like they’re in search of a fine wine. Most of them linger for a second or two, then walk to the next. Others place starting bids. But one person does neither. They stand in front of a red protocore, staring it down like they’re dedicated to studying its every intricacy.
It’s the same kind of protocore the Raven purchased months ago.
He flags down a bid assistant. “Ten million on the red protocore,” he says.
The assistant looks down at her datapad. “I’m sorry, sir. The highest bid on it currently stands at 12 million.”
He smirks. “Double it.”
“Right away, sir.”
He watches the stranger from afar. The assistant nearby cautiously walks to their side. They don’t look up or react at all as he speaks to them. The assistant stops speaking. Sylus holds his breath.
Play the game, won’t you? he thinks.
The stranger’s hand gestures for the datapad. The assistant hands it over. They study the screen, before slowly turning, scanning the crowd. Their eyes land firmly on Sylus. He doesn’t budge or falter, doesn’t react to being “caught”.
They grin slightly as they tap at the screen, then look up. The assistant next to him clears her throat. “Excuse me, sir? The bid has gone up to 120 million.”
They raised the bid by 5 times. They are playing the game.
“Two hundred.”
They look back at the tablet. Press a couple keys and look up. The assistant by them is antsy, but politely stands to the side.
“It’s at 249 million, sir.”
He tilts his head. They smile. “Two-fifty.”
They glance at the screen and hand the tablet back to the assistant. They calmly turn around, looking at the 250 million red protocore. He passes the assistant his black card. She scans it quickly and hands it back with a bow.
He crosses the bidding floor to stand beside the stranger. “How would you like it wrapped?” he asks.
You look up at him, sly and mischievous in the red glow. You tap your earlobe.
He chuckles. “Earrings, then.” He looks at the protocore. Now that he’s up close, he can see for certain that there is nothing unique about it whatsoever. It hasn’t been altered and it’s not especially rare, not when compared to the rest. He wonders what you see in it. “And how should I have them delivered to you, Raven?”
You tilt your head, like you’re surprised to hear him know that name. But you just smile, shake your head, and walk away. He doesn’t follow. He wonders what game you’re stringing him into.
-
Second Meeting:
It’s not an auction he sees you in next, but a gala. You’re dressed in a rich red color, black feathers accentuating your shoulders and drawing in the eyes of other attendees. You pay none of them any mind. You stand on a mezzanine, idly sipping from a glass and watching all the little people below. You spot him first.
He grabs a glass of wine for himself as he joins you. It’s smooth and rich, if not overly floral.
You lean against the railing as he approaches, expectant. He smirks as he pulls a box from his inner coat pocket and passes it over. You set your glass on the railing to open it. Inside the black box is a pair of earrings. Golden wire cradles the protocore fragments delicately, like a hand around a throat threatening to squeeze. You smile.
“I trust they’re to your liking?”
You hold the open box out to him and he holds it in one hand. You pull out one earring and hold it up to the light of the elaborate chandelier above. It shimmers and shines. Red light glimmers on your face. You immediately slide it in place, adjusting by feel until it sits right. You take the other from the box and do the same. They make you look regal.
“Beautiful,” he compliments softly. You smile and take a sip of your drink. He closes the box and tucks it back into his pocket. “Are you here for business?”
You nod and look back down over the banister. He steps closer and joins you, looking over to try seeing what you’re searching for. It’s his fault for letting his guard down when he feels your hand pluck his phone from his pocket. You lean your back against the railing again, screen faced away from him as you type.
He chuckles at your misdirection, crossing his arms as he leans over to see what you’re doing. You’ve unlocked his phone with no issues and scroll calmly through his contacts, reading the numbers carefully as you search. “What are you looking for?” he wonders softly. You smile, but don’t look at him.
You glance over your shoulder to the ground floor, then back to the phone. You open a new message and type in a number he doesn’t recognize. He scans the words as you quickly type them out.
My partner for the evening is interested in the guns you claim to have hidden away here. Care to show them around?
“Is your trade in assassination, Raven?” he muses. You tilt your head. “Or, perhaps, information?”
You grin up at him at that. A response comes in.
Who is this?
You roll your eyes. From the way you searched his contacts earlier, you must have a multitude of numbers and names cataloged in your head; the thought of someone seemingly high profile not knowing whose phone this belongs to must bore you.
Sylus.
Oh, Mr. Sylus, of course! My sincere apologies!
Meet me in the garden. Statue of Venus. 10 minutes.
You pass the phone back over to him. “Already using my name to open doors.”
You smirk. You drain the rest of your glass and push yourself from the railing. He offers you his arm without needing to be asked. You pat his arm when you take it, as though praising him for it. You walk together to the garden, neither leading nor following. Silent equals.
-
Third Meeting:
He received a message a week later from an unknown number.
Deal proposal: you help me negotiate with a client and I’ll give you information on your competitors.
What information do you have that I couldn’t get anywhere else?
I have a crate of their supplies, blueprints detailing their alterations, and their sketches for their next model.
Sylus chuckles.
You must have stolen it straight from the horse’s mouth.
Deal?
He mulls it over for a minute.
Where are we meeting?
-
His motorcycle growls as he weaves it through the N109 Zone to the outskirts of Linkon City. His destination is an old shipyard. From a distance, he can see the worn, forgotten ships that line the docks, rusted and beyond repair. You stand at the land-end of one, staring out at the array of ships as you wait. It’s the first time he’s seen you dressed so casually.
A gun is obviously strapped to your thigh.
He pulls up and kills the engine. You don’t bother watching as he removes his helmet and leaves it on the leather seat. He steps up next to you. “Which one is she in?”
There’s no use pretending you’re still waiting for your prey to show up. You smirk. He follows you down the lineup to an abandoned ferry. Out of date cars line the hold, vintage, soon to be antiques.
You lead him up to one of the passenger floors, where plastic seats have been broken off metal bases or crumpled beyond use. There’s only one that’s occupied.
Your “client” is tied up solidly with a length of steel wire. Power tools nearby point to your methods of tightening the wire around her wrists and ankles. More wire dangles in loose curls around her body, her arms, legs, neck. A cluster of car batteries from several of the models below sits nearby with jumper cables and rubber gloves. Two rubber mats have been neatly laid out; one for him and one for you, just in case.
He chuckles darkly at the sight. The last time he witnessed your methods, they were improvised with the surrounding materials available to you - garden shears being your favored tool for the evening. While these materials have been primarily gathered from here, he can see the planning behind it, the precautions you’ve taken and measures you’ve met to ensure this transaction goes according to plan. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”
You don’t react to his words. Your face is neutral, unresponsive. It’s like witnessing a switch being flipped.
You step around the woman, flicking the loose wire around her neck as you do.
It’s going to be a long night.
-
Fourth Meeting:
Masquerade tonight. Join me.
Sylus takes apart and cleans his gun carefully, ritualistically.
His phone has been silent for hours since he sent the message. He has no reason to demand your time or attention, certainly not when you seem to be actively working to retrieve intel from all over the N109 Zone and Linkon City.
He wipes the old oil and gunpowder burns off with a rag, diligently getting in between the nooks and crannies. His brow is pinched, eyes sharp with focus. He turns the piece in the light, searching for any spots of improvement. Then he reapplies fresh gun oil, massaging it into place.
His phone buzzes. He glances at it.
Incentivize me.
He chuckles. He sets the piece down among the array of parts, a puzzle he’s quite familiar with by now. In less than 10 seconds, everything has been put back together. The gun sits weightily in his hand as he flips it around, admiring his work.
He sets it aside like a toy he’s grown tired of and picks up his phone.
I have a deal I want to propose. In person.
You’ve got my interest, but that’s not enough incentive for me to join you. What else will you offer, aside from the deal?
Dinner, and another item of jewelry to match the earrings.
A few minutes pass. He reaches for another gun to take apart and maintain.
I’ll see you there.
-
His mask is perfectly tailored to his face, formed and decorated to resemble a crow. The inky black feathers contrast with his white hair and suit. Wearing white is certainly a branch out from his usual tastes, but it prevents the ensemble from being drowned out.
He scans the crowd of people with a discerning eye. With no idea what outfit or mask you’ll choose to disguise yourself in tonight, he scans everyone with a similar build to you in search of that dangerous aura you exude. He doesn’t have to look hard, when someone enters and everyone gives them a wide berth.
You wear the protocore earrings he gifted you before to match the intricate white and red ensemble you wear. Your mask is also red and gold, white raven feathers fanning out like a crown upon your head. People awe at you as you seamlessly glide into the party proper. He watches as you look around, searching for him amongst the sea of paper faces.
Sylus crosses the marble floor to you. “I don’t think you needed the incentive,” he teases. You look up at him and a secret smile, tilting your head coyly to ask what he means. “It takes longer than a few hours to have an entire outfit tailored.”
Your grin widens. He hit the nail right on the head. You were planning to come all along, but you managed to squeeze a free dinner out of him. He looked forward to it. But for now, he offers his hand and leads you to a quieter area of the party. It’s you who pulls him onto a balcony, shutting the french doors behind you both. You lean against the railing once more, not letting go of his hand until he’s standing in front of you.
He gets a sense of deja vu as he pulls another jewelry box from his coat pocket. The box is thin and narrow. He holds it while you open the lid.
Inside, resting delicately on red velvet, is a black choker. The centerpiece is a red protocore, just as the one used for your earrings. Golden feathers circle the red jewel. You smile and pull out a box as well.
He searches your face for answers he won’t find as he opens the lid with one hand. Inside the small box is a set of studded earrings. Red protocore jewels gleam back at him, held in place with gold detailing. He smiles.
You turn around, glancing at him expectantly over your shoulder. He takes the choker from the box and nimbly lays it across your neck, clasping it in the back. When you turn back around, it rests beautifully against the hollow of your throat. His eyes linger for a moment longer as he takes in the sight.
You tap his chin and his eyes are drawn to yours once more, framed in your fierce raven mask. You grab the collar of his shirt and gently pull him down to your height. Your fingers on his chin turn his face to the side.
He listens to your soft breathing as you gently place one stud into the lobe of his ear. He wonders how long you’ve known that his ears were pierced. He doesn’t frequently wear earrings.
You turn his head again. Your fingers are precise, the sign of a professional. He shoots you a look when you playfully blow against his ear. You smile. Once you’ve finished, he stands back up to his full height.
“You look radiant,” he tells you, voice hushed, like this is a secret only you can know. You touch his chest, conveying the same message to him as you feel the silky fabric. “Would you care to dance with me?”
Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head, questioning him. He chuckles.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten about my proposal.” He takes the box from your hand, setting both on the railing. “You can dance and talk business, can’t you?”
You stare at his offered hand for a moment. Then, you take it. He leads you back inside and toward the ballroom, where dozens of guests have taken up partners and move as a unit through a waltz. He leads you toward the center, within a gap. Less prying ears on his business this way.
You rest your hand on his shoulder. His finds your waist easily. He leads you through the dance. You’re only a few steps in when he ducks his head to whisper in your ear.
“Now, for my offer…” He pulls you in closer, keeping you from accidentally bumping into someone as an intoxicated pair stumbles. “Work with me. The information you’ve been interested in revolves around protocores, correct?”
You glance at him.
He grins. “I have an advantage in position; I can help you find the information you seek, and the people that have it. You’ve used my name once already. Imagine how many more doors would open for you.”
You consider his offer as it stands. Your current sources can only get you so far, he’s right about that. And with Onychinus’s position as a dealer in all sorts of trades, you could find information across a wider network.
“Interested?” You tap on his shoulder twice. “Good. I ask for your skills and resources in return. You’ve been able to get past my competitors’ lines easier than I can. So I propose a quid pro quo: You get the information I want, and I get you the information you want. Sound fair?”
You tap him three times. You want more information.
“The deal ends whenever you want it to,” he says, as if he can read your mind. “I won’t throw you away, I promise you that. You’re more valuable to me than you realize.”
You run the offer through your head. Information for information, with an oath not to throw you under the bus. It really is an equal trade, a transaction of loyalty. You grab his collar again, leaning up to whisper into his own ear. “Deal.”
The sound sends electricity down his spine. He stands back up to his full height, both of you smiling at the agreement you’ve just made as you dance. Once the song ends, he takes your hand to lead you to dinner.
You’re almost free from the dance floor when a hand grabs you and tugs you away from Sylus.
A man dressed in a rather mundane tuxedo and mediocre animal mask holds your hips, lower than his hands should be. “Hey, darling. How about sparing a dance for me, huh?”
You pry yourself from his hands, glancing him up and down, studying him with a precision he should be terrified of. He just thinks you’re checking him out. You quickly turn to smile at Sylus. It’s sweet, reassuring, and doesn’t match the fire burning in your eyes. He lets your hand go.
You turn back to the man and hold out your hand to him, silently accepting his offer for a dance. He takes it, and your smile drops.
You grab his fingers in a death grip and push back, hard, forcing his fingers as far back as they’ll willingly go. His arm contorts oddly to compensate, straining his wrist. “Ah! What the fuck are you doing?!”
People back away from you, the man, and Sylus. The music dies on a discordant note.
He tries to grab your wrist and pull you off, but you grab his instead and pull him to the floor, never letting go of his fingers as you twist his arm behind his back. He lands on his hand and knees, gasping in pain as you push his fingers back further. The tendons begin to burn and creak, desperately trying to keep his fingers in place.
“Help! Get them off of me! They’re gonna break my fucking fingers! Do something!”
Sylus chuckles darkly at the display. Your face has remained impassive since your little trick, but your intentions are clear. “You’re making things worse for yourself,” he chides, amusement dripping from every word. He glances at the security that come rushing from the doors. In a second, all of them are wrapped up in black and red tendrils, mouths covered and arms pinned by their sides.
The man screams as a loud crack shocks through the room. The crowd murmurs. Some of them have to leave before they lose their lunch. One person faints.
“YOU CRAZY FUCKER- AHH!”
Another crack.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, EH? MONEY, I GOT MONEY!”
A third. Few people look on with as much grim satisfaction as you and Sylus, even if you didn’t show just how much fun you were having teaching this man a lesson.
“You’ve only got two fingers left. I suggest you make them count,” Sylus chimes in.
The man’s tears stream down his face uncontrollably, saliva and snot dripping from his face onto the polished marble floor. His whole body shudders with agony. His free hand clutches at the ground helplessly, barely able to keep himself from falling face first into his own mess.
His next cry rips from his throat like a child, high pitched and desperate. You only press the next finger back threateningly. “PLEASE! I-I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! PLEASE, STOP! PLE-EA-ASE!”
You hold the tension a second longer, before finally releasing him. He collapses, heaving as he finally bends his arm back to normal. Three of his fingers are red and swollen, hanging limply. One swells around a gold ring until it looks like it’ll pop.
You sigh as you fix your clothes, brushing invisible dust off and adjusting the fabric. You look at Sylus. He waves his hand and the security guards are released. They don’t move, too scared to get anywhere near you.
You step around the man and toward the exit. The crowd parts for you. An unconscious body is dragged by its feet out of your way for fear of upsetting you further. Sylus walks beside you and takes your hand once more in his.
“Where would you like to go for dinner?”
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope
#fanfic#fanfiction#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#lnds#lnds x reader#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader
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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 — 4.1k+
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 — angst, spoilers (ch. 30, 90, 111, & 120), pet names, character death, reader finds out she’s pregnant (he already knows though 😭), other characters are mentioned, he interacts with her from afterlife.
he knows it, that his life is coming to an end.
his fight with the cursed spirit jogo left him badly injured with half his body burned, and the damage done is far beyond repair, even for someone like shoko. the pain radiating throughout his entire body is excruciating, and he’s tired. so tired. all he wants to do is sit down and rest, close his eyes and leave this unfair world behind, but he can’t just yet. he has to keep pushing onwards, there are still so many transfigured humans and cursed spirits to exorcize and kill.
does he have to keep going? the short answer is no.
he’s not even particularly fond of this job in the first place, but since he chose this line of work, it’s his obligation to see it through.
on top of that, with gojo being sealed away in the prison realm and all, that puts the burden on a lot of the younger sorcerers. in his eyes, children shouldn’t have to bear such a heavy load, especially since they’ll have to go against higher grade curses that are out of their league that they have no business dealing with. as long as he’s still there and is able to fight, he’s going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening. or at least lessen the amount they have to exorcize.
walking down the desolate underground tunnels of shibuya station feels eerie, the blood stained walls being a haunting reminder of just how much evil kenjaku has unleashed in such a short period of time. he doesn’t hesitate to exorcize anything that crosses his path that has no place in this world during his descent towards the lower level of the station.
though everytime he lifts his undamaged arm to wield his blade and kill another monster it hurts terribly. most people wouldn’t have even survived what he did, sustaining third and fourth degree burns over half their body, but nanami is strong. his strength coupled with his willpower to kill as many monsters as he can before his body ultimately shuts down is what drives him.
in the distance, he can hear the moans and groans of what he believes to be transfigured humans, and it sounds like a lot of them. he could turn around now and let his students and fellow sorcerers handle the rest of this, while he goes to a nearby hospital and lets them fix him up to the best of their ability before returning back home to you, but he can’t bring himself to do something as selfish as that.
he’s going to die tonight, there’s no doubt in his mind about it. the uncertainty of not knowing what waits for him in the afterlife isn’t what worries him, it’s knowing he has to leave you behind.
miles away in another district, you sit by yourself on the big, leather couch in the living room of you and kento’s house. the movie you put on to pass the time as you wait for your fiancé to finish his late night mission is boring you, and although you try to stay awake, you find yourself nodding off every so often. the minutes on the clock feel like they’re passing by agonizingly slow and you want nothing more than to feel the strong embrace of nanami’s arms wrapped around you once again.
speaking of which, shouldn’t he be on his way back soon?
no sooner than the thought crosses your mind does the soft buzzing and the light emitting from your phone screen on the cushion beside you catch your attention and you eagerly rush to pick it up. you take a minute to admire the poster picture you set for nanami, the picture being the time he let you wash and braid his hair, and you smile. you couldn’t ask for a better man.
you don’t want to keep him waiting though, so you tear your eyes away from the photo and clear your throat before hitting the button to answer the phone.
“ken! have you left work? are you on your way back yet?!” your bright, cheery voice would usually cause a big grin spread across nanami’s face, but this time a sorrowful smile is plastered on his face instead.
he won’t be coming.
nanami softly chuckles, focusing on ways to keep his voice neutral and calm before he speaks so you can’t sense the fear, devastation, anger, and every other emotion he feels as he talks to his precious girl for the last time. “no…”, nanami hesitates, thinking of a way to put it, but there’s really no easy way to say it. “i won’t be coming home tonight.” he sighs.
your smile fades and turns into a slight frown. “oh.. what’s going on in shibuya is really that bad?” you ask, playing with the hem of one of his shirts that you’ve stolen.
“yes. it’s bigger than any of us expected. i’m so sorry, sweetheart.” another long pause follows and your heart begins to race, there’s something else he’s not telling you.
kento has never been a man who hesitates or has trouble finding the right words. in all the years you’ve known him, he’s never been one to beat around the bush, he’s always been straightforward and direct. for him to have trouble finding the words and not knowing what to say is unheard of, and it worries you.
“baby, what’s wrong? what aren’t you telling me? and why are apologizing, it’s not your fault.”
nanami remains quiet for the next few seconds as he looks for the courage to tell you everything, that this is the last time you’ll hear his voice.
“i don’t think i’ll be returning home.. ever.” and that’s when his voice cracks, uttering the words that no jujutsu sorcerer ever wants to tell their family or their partner. at least he has the chance to say goodbye though, some sorcerers aren’t even that lucky.
“i need to stay in shibuya to fight. i love you, more than you’ll ever know, and i hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.”
your mind goes blank. did you really hear what you think you heard? did nanami really just say what you think he did?
you stay silent on the other end of the phone, not sure what to say. “ken.. what are you saying? what do you mean you won’t be back?!” you laugh in disbelief as your eyes begin to water.
the world you created with kento is starting to shatter around you.
“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know? i’m blessed to have been able to spend these past years with you. thank you for opening yourself up to me and allowing me to be able to share your life with you. i’m sorry i have to leave you so soon. i planned on spending the rest of my life with you. i wanted to grow old with you”
hot tears flow out of your eyes and stream down your face and chin where they fall and stain nanami’s shirt. some manage to seep into the corners of your mouth, their salty taste colliding with your taste buds. you’ve never noticed how salty tears really are until now.
you cover your mouth with your hand to mask the flood of sobs coming from you, but it’s not going to take long before your cries grow far too loud to be masked.
“i knew i should’ve left this damn job sooner.” nanami’s brows draw together in anger and frustration at himself for having to place you in such a position. “i never planned on doing this forever. it’s dangerous and i planned to leave when i found the right person, that person being you, but i didn’t leave soon enough. now look where it got me. i’m so sorry, you don’t deserve this.”
“nanami please stop.” denial is hitting you hard, there’s no way this can be real. you can still vividly recall the warm spring afternoon a few months ago when he got down on one knee and proposed to you. that was the day that sealed your fate, you were going to be with this man for the rest of your life.
now he’s suddenly being taken away from you.
could this be some sort of sick joke someone put him up to? no, even as much as you wish it was, you know it’s not. kento would never do something as cruel as this to you, much less let another person put him up to it.
“you have all my passwords to any documents you might need to access, if there’s anything you can’t find, it’ll be in the top drawer of the desk in the office, don’t forget that, okay? you have the numbers to my bank account and cards, but it shouldn’t take life insurance long to pay out.”
“this isn’t funny, stop it.” by this point you’re violently sobbing and your eyes are getting redder by the minute. nothing feels real anymore. the thud of your heart pounding in your chest fills your ears, and you think it might just explode any time now. a single tear rolls down nanami’s face, then another one follows, and another until he’s crying with you.
he inhales, taking a shaky breath and trying to regain his composure, but fails. “you remember when we were planning to have our honeymoon in malaysia? i want you to still go. do you understand? do it for me, okay love?”
the wails that exit your mouth are gut-wrenching. each one sounds like it’s filled with more heartache than the previous one as they increase in volume as they echo through nanami’s side of the phone. he has to physically take the phone away from his ear, but even as he holds the phone down next to his thigh your loud cries can still be heard.
you don’t have to say it because the anguish in your cries speak for themself, telling kento “don’t leave me.” it breaks his heart, he would do anything to prevent having to hurt you like this but it’s too late now. he wipes away his tears with the back of his fully fleshed hand before bringing his phone back up to his ear to speak.
“you can throw away my books in the office, or you can read them and keep them if you want. i know you don’t really care much about that kind of stuff anyways though,” nanami laughs lightheartedly. a sharp pain tears through his chest and he silently winces at the pain something as small as laughing causes him. but that’s okay, he’ll only have to endure the pain a little while longer.
“i have one more thing to tell you before i have to go.”
you don’t catch what he said, your weeping drowns his voice out, only catching his words here and there. yet, you don’t miss the sternness of his voice calling your name, and you subconsciously quiet down a little.
“listen to me. i want you to be happy. don’t live your life constantly thinking of me and what could have been. do you understand?”
you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. silence follows on your end now.
“answer me. do you think you can do that for me?” nanami asks, remnants of his authoritative tone seeping through.
a small, almost inaudible “yes”, croaks from your throat, accompanied by more sobs.
“find a new partner, love again, start a new family. i want to see you flourish, darling. just..” nanami lets out a sigh before he continues. “just make sure the guy treats you right, or he’ll have to deal with the ghost of your ex. i can still beat his ass as a ghost. oh, and do all the things you want to do. you’re special, and i know you’ll succeed in whatever you choose.”
“kento don’t leave me! please don’t leave me! i don’t want anyone else!” you tightly clutch his shirt that you’re wearing as you beg and plead with him not to leave you. he wishes he could come give you one last hug, or a kiss before he leaves, but he has a job to finish.
“whatever you choose to do, be happy. do what brings you joy, pretty girl. you won’t be able to see me, but i’ll always be there right next to you, supporting you. you’ll feel my presence and know i’m there. don’t come over here joining me too soon either, okay baby?”
nanami debates on whether to mention this or not, but he decides it’s best to, he doesn’t want you to think he died without knowing. “my baby girl is gonna be as pretty as her mother. don’t you worry about a thing, everything is gonna be fine. i love you.”
his words come in one ear and out the other, it’s like you hear him, but you’re really not grasping his words. you’re trying to force your voice out to say something else and you’re finally able to. “ken? nanami?!” it’s too late now though, he’s already hung up and you find that out once you take the phone away from your ear.
on the other side of the city, nanami slips his phone back into his pocket after trying to send you a video. the reception has suddenly gotten bad down there and he tried multiple times to send it, but it’s taking forever to send, so he can only pray that it reaches you somehow.
the facade he put on and maintained fairly well while talking to you of being calm and collected, was his way to try to make his death not as hard on you. he’s found peace in knowing his time is almost up and he hopes that can help as you come to terms later.
now, reality is crashing down on him once again and he tilts his head back, slowly closing his eyes as more tears rush out. memories run through his mind of all the times he’s shared with you; good times and bad times, intimate and playful ones, happy and sad ones. why does he have to leave? he’s finally happy for once in his life and now he has to leave the most important person in his life behind for a shitty, unfair job?
nanami catches himself, he can’t think like this. he can’t die with regrets or bad thoughts, so he chooses to simply be thankful for all the wonderful memories he was able to share with you and that he gets to reminisce over during his final moments. although he won’t be able to physically see his daughter grow up, he’ll be watching from above.
he takes a moment to collect himself then continues walking down the dark tunnel, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls being the only sound to be heard until he reaches the end. nanami turns and walks down the stairs, immediately being met with multiple transfigured humans just like he thought. his grip on his weapon tightens and he gets a running start at the monsters, catching them by surprise.
they surround him within seconds and with his blade, he slashes through as many at one time as he can, all while dodging attacks from the others he has yet to kill.
nanami is so tired. it feels like his body will give out on him at any second. he just wants to rest. with each transfigured human he slices through, the image of him walking down the beach with the sun beaming down on his face gets clearer and clearer. it won’t be much longer now.
he tries to catch his breath as he watches the last and final monster fall to the ground. he lets the dull blade slip out of his hand and drops to his knees. suddenly he feels a cold hand on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open. “good job, i didn’t expect you to finish them all off,” a cocky voice says from behind him.
mahito.
nanami would be able to tell that voice from anywhere. the cursed spirit, mahito, is one he’s had multiple encounters with, the one worst being when he got trapped in the cursed spirits domain and nearly died.
they say the third time’s charm and in this case it is. under normal circumstances it wouldn’t take a single touch from mahito for him to be able to transfigure nanami’s soul, but because he’s so badly injured and weak, this one touch is all it takes.
the footsteps of a person running can be heard, the sound of their feet getting closer by the second until the person reaches the stairs. the person rounds the corner and is met with a heartbreaking sight.
“n-nanamin?” the voice calls out.
it’s yuji.
there’s nothing kentoi can do to prevent the child from witnessing his death. he feels horrible. yuji is about to see his mentor die right before his eyes and nanami isn’t sure how it will affect him, hell it might even scar the poor boy for life. the only thing he can do is give yuji some encouraging last words. nanami turns the uncharred side of his head towards yuji and smiles. “itadori, please have ino take my belongings back to my wife. will you take it from here? i know you can handle it, you’re strong.”
a wave of calmness and peace washes over nanami as he closes his eyes. a bright light surrounds him and his old friend, yu haibara, from high school emerges from it, extending his hand out to nanami as he makes the transition to the other side. “welcome friend, what are you doing over here so soon?”
those are the last words that leave nanami’s mouth before his upper body explodes into pieces as mahito stands and happily watches.
the horrific scene will forever be engraved into yuji’s mind.
an indescribable feeling rushes over you, one that’s unfamiliar. you’re not sure what it is, but you don’t ever want to sense that feeling again. it’s the moment you realize your everything is gone.
the night sky shines less bright as the light from a dying star burns until it flickers out completely. nanami kento is dead.
you’ve lost count of how many days have passed since kento left you. the days have started to run together and everything’s been a blur, you can barely even remember your own name.
you often find yourself staring at his blood stained watch that lays on the coffee table, one of a few items that ino personally returned to you; kento’s watch, his weapon, and his phone.
the playback of past events involving kento are constantly unfolding in front of you. when you look at the front door, you can see him coming home from a long day at work, undoing his tie and taking his shoes off. sometimes you see him in the kitchen wearing the apron you bought him. or when you pass by his office, you can see him sitting in his chair with a book in his hand. everytime you see him, he’s always see-through, it's never like it’s actually him in the flesh, and you’re not really sure what to think. you know it’s probably your mind’s way of coping and it doesn’t frighten you, but you’re not sure if it’s doing more harm than good.
students from jujutsu high and other sorcerers have both stopped by to try to comfort you in your time of grieving, including nanami’s favorite student, ino, who shares candid memories of nanami. you truly appreciate them, you really do, but unless any of them could bring nanami back, you would rather just be left alone to mourn.
more days pass and you notice your period has yet to come and that you don’t have much of an appetite, but you don’t pay it much attention, attributing it to being everything you’ve been going through the past few weeks. for some reason, you accidentally let it slip out during a conversation with shoko and she suggests you go to the doctor. you’re reluctant at first, believing it’s just late and it’ll come back sooner or later once your emotions are back in line, but you trust her and take her up on her advice.
the next day, ijichi drives you to your doctor and you explain the situation very briefly. they perform some bloodwork and run a few tests on you, one of which is a pregnancy test that you find completely unnecessary and silly, but you do what needs to be done for the sake of this to all be over with.
the results come back particularly fast for the pregnancy test and the doctor tells you you’re expecting.
expecting..? expecting what?
you must have not heard right, so you ask her to repeat it. “you’re pregnant, there’s a fetus inside you. i’m very sorry about the timing, but congratulations.” tears start to fall and the doctor sits a box of tissues down beside you as she softly pats you on the back.
the car ride back to the house is quiet like usual. except this time it’s quiet for a different reason as thoughts, worries, and questions invade your brain. ijichi helps you out of the car and you thank him for the ride. you slowly make your way up the steps to the house, still not believing you’re going to be a mother. you clumsily fumble with the keys to unlock the door, and take your shoes off before you walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter with a hand on your tummy.
how are you going to take care of a baby by yourself?
your vision becomes blurry with tears, which isn’t out of the ordinary considering everything that has happened these past few weeks. this was nanami’s dream, to start a family. you close your eyes and let the waterworks flow. all kinds of different emotions rush through your body as you cry for the life he won’t get to experience.
your phone buzzes and you wipe your tears before taking it out of your purse, not bothering to check the notification screen to see who or what it came from. instead, you open your messages to tell shoko the news when you notice a blue dot next to someone’s contact, you have an unopened message.
when you glance up at the sender’s name, it’s no other than nanami. you check the time and the date and see it was sent a few minutes ago, that must’ve been the reason your phone went off.
but he’s been dead for what, two weeks now? how is that even possible? you turn your attention over to the coffee table where his phone also lays with the other items ino gave you. you haven’t been able to bring yourself to charge his phone and it’s been dead for close to two weeks as well. all the more reason this gives you chills.
you’re not sure whether to open the message and view the attachment or not. what will you find? your curiosity outweighs everything else, plus it’s supposedly from kento, it can’t be anything bad.
you open the message and it’s a video. you turn your volume up and press play. nanami comes into frame and begins to talk, “hi baby, i just wanted to say i love you. i want you to listen to this whenever you feel lonely. and you’re going to be a great mommy to our daughter.” then the video ends. his hair is down, he looks tired, and he has a few scratches on his face but he still looks as handsome as ever. you notice he only shows one side of his face, but you don’t pay it any attention. you’re just glad you get to see one final image of him.
your fingers caress his face through the screen, and you smile. “i don’t know how i’ll do this without but–“, you instantly freeze. something just touched you.
there’s no other way to explain it, but it feels like a hand just softly pressed against your stomach. no one else is here, could you be going crazy? or could it possibly be…
“tell my baby girl all about me, okay mama?”
his voice.
it was like he was right next to you. you quickly look up and turn your head to the side where the voice came from, but no one’s there of course.
nanami told you not to worry about anything, that he would always be with you. he’s a man that always stayed true to his word, and even in death he doesn’t change.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ❀ — this is my first time writing a full angst fic so if i had to suffer while writing this y’all have to suffer too 😭. but he’ll always be my man idgaf and gege will pay for killing him off. also let me know if you’d like me add which episodes the spoilers are in too and not just which chapters. feedback is appreciated as always!! thank you for reading mwah.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk drabbles#jjk imagines#jjk fanfic#jjk x y/n#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x black reader#anime x reader#anime x black!reader#x fem reader#fem reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader
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A man with a magic remote using it to make his stuck up local barista into a needy bimbo
Enough is enough.
From a young age, you have always been brought up believing being polite got you places; saying thank you, holding doors open for people, and making guests feel welcome are part of a basic human decency you assumed everyone practiced.
Until you met Alice.
You had met in high school, back when you was a little rounder in the belly and cheeks. She had always turned her nose up at you, snarking some cruel comment on your appearance, or how slow you were. You never understood why--after all, you had always been nice to her--but maybe that was just what hot, popular blondes did to "science losers" like you.
But nearly ten years later, this loser was ready for his revenge.
Sitting at the corner table of the local coffee joint, you watch her plug away at the cash register as she rings customers up. Seductive, green eyes, wide hips, and full, perky breasts that jiggle a little bit when she walked. You watch the way she flashed that beauty-pageant smile that somehow manages to let people know she was better than them.
But over the last few months, you found a way to make it all come crashing down on her.
You train the wrist-mounted device you'd spent months perfecting on her. "Alice Saintfield. IQ 135, but 34DD," it flashes on the screen.
Just as she speaks to the next customer, you twist the dial to the right. Immediately, her white blouse strains to keep her overflowing bossoms contained. A pink flush creeps across her face as she notices her customer staring slack-jawed at her suddenly massive breasts. Quite a few of the patrons murmur, some pointing at her.
She blinks a few times. "Wha..."
"Alice Saintfield. IQ 120, but 34GG."
You smirk. So it begins.
You turn the dial more.
Alice lunges forward, the weight of her massive tits making her unsteady. All of the buttons on her blouse spatter the cash register as her breasts spill slightly outside the sides of her apron.
Much to your delight, she giggles. "Oopsies!" She jumps around excitedly, her massive mammaries swaying. Her hard, pink nipples play peekaboo from behind her apron wth ever jiggle as she makes her way to the staff break room.
You follow her over to a room with a small kitchen and a few tables. She stands in front of a large full-body mirror squeezing her breasts.
"Alice Saintfield. IQ 70, but 34K."
This time, before turning the dial the furthest it could go, you click a button on the device.
Her breasts swell immediately and spill out of her shirt completely. Now uncovered by an apron far too small, blue veins pulse through her pale breasts. They send what appears to be a needy ache to her swollen pink nipples.
Beads of milk appear at the tender teat, before they start dripping onto the small table below.
You smile down at her. But her eyes are wide, an unfamiliar sense of submission behind them. She waddles over to the plastic coffee cups, grabbing a handful of them before making her way to you. With each footstep, her breasts sway and slosh as tiny rivers of milk run down from her teats.
"Alice Saintfield. IQ 15, but 34P. Subject has reached peak breeding instance."
Your dick twitches. Hmm...
She holds out an empty coffee cup, blissfully unaware there is a little bit of drool dripping from her lip.
You take the cup, unsure.
Hoisting her bare breast up for you to see, she tilts her head to one side.
"Moo?" she asks before biting her lip. "Moooo?"
Milk me?
You take her massive teat in your hand and squeeze, aiming into the coffee cup you held in your hand. Milk spurts out, drenching your hand in warm liquid. Alice moans from the release as you notice the unmilked breast has a steadier stream dripping from it.
"Moo!" Alice gasps. It's then you notice how drenched her panties are. She rubs against the side of her hand, and the motion makes her massive milkers slosh. "Moooo..."
Your device is perfect; not only is she full of milk, the bitch NEEDS to breed.
You cock swells against the tightness of your pants. It hadn't really been a part of your plan to impregnate her, but as she unzips your pants and uses both her tiny hands to work away at your cock, you realize the idea turns you on.
Plus, wasn't it even better revenge on her knowing you not only made her tits massive, but you also pumped her full of your "loser" cum?
Your shirt is soaked from the milk leaking from her full breasts that she rubs against your chest.
"Moo... Moo..." She stops rubbing, and instead sits on the table and spreads her legs. Her miniskirt does little to hide her soaked underwear. She squeezes her breasts, letting a massive spray soak her hands.
"Are you in heat, dumb little cow?"
"Moooo..." she moaned.
You pulled the drenched thong to the side to shove your throbbing member inside her. Her internal juices tantalize your dick, making it throb. One, two, three--you lose count of how many pumps before--
Just as you ejaculate, Alice bounces herself on you, sloshing her giant tits around and as she pleasures herself on your release.
Finally, she lets out a breathless sigh before snuggling with your face resting on a breast. She led your head to one of her dripping teats, and you happily accept it into your mouth.
Blissful peace coursed through your veins as you suckle at her breast, content.
---
🐮❤️
#breast expansion#lactation kink tw#tw lactation kink#massive breasts#smut#huge natural melons#huge cleavage#mommy milkers#writing#big tiddy committee#submisive and breedable#breeding k1nk
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Wooyoung: The Boxing Match
!!mentions of nsfw!! 18+ !! do NOT interact if you’re not comfortable with smut!! thank you for the fun request!! pls feel free to send more, as this was really creative and interesting to figure out!! if you’re interested, i have a hongjoong ver. smut, san ver. smut, mingi ver. smut, yunho ver. smut, jongho ver. smut and i will have more up soon and updated here as i finish the requests!!
“Fuck,” Wooyoung irritatingly threw his training towel over his forehead as he took a swig of his water bottle, avoiding the large screen in front of him as it repeatedly flashed the final results of tonight’s boxing match.
Kim Yugyeom v. Jung Wooyoung
12 Rounds @ Olympic Gymnast Arena
Scorecard: 112-110 | 110-110 | 120-107
Wooyoung crushed his water bottle and tossed it into a trash can, making his way to the backstage locker room as his team trailed behind him, patting him down with more towels and offering him more water.
It goes without saying that the boy was beyond pissed at his performance tonight. He sat alone at a bench and asked for space with a few minutes to cool down, to which his team deliberately agreed.
“Wooyoung,” Yugyeom walks up to the boy and pats his opponent’s back, “you did well tonight. You’re getting so much better, don’t beat yourself over the results.”
I won’t beat myself up over it ‘cause you already did me that favor, Wooyoung curses quietly to himself, nodding at his winning opponent.
“Thanks. You did well,” he says, wanting to add more, though he knew nothing appropriate would come out of his mouth if he kept talking. He was too angry, felt too dispirited, and most definitely wanted to wipe the nasty smirk off Yugyeom’s face.
As soon as Yugyeom walked out of the locker room, Wooyoung lunged himself forward and punched a wall pad in resentment.
“FUCK,” he shouted, ripping his handwraps off with immense aggravation and wanting nothing more than to go home and take a long, quiet shower.
—
Scorching drops of hot water splashed against Wooyoung’s bare back as he attempted to relax under the steaming shower. His efforts were to no avail, as every time he closed his eyes he was met with the burning image of Yugyeom’s villainous simper in the boxing ring.
Of course, Yugyeom had been training far longer than Wooyoung, and even though Wooyoung’s growth and training with 1-on-1 opponents had made him a promising candidate against Yugyeom in a match, his stamina wasn’t nearly enduring at the level he’d hoped for during the last few rounds of their fight. It seemed as though Yugyeom’s stamina had strengthened towards the end, a skill or tactic that Wooyoung couldn’t yet wrap his head around.
Fuck this, Wooyoung turns his body towards the shower head, wanting to clear his mind off tonight’s events instead.
He outstretches one hand to lean against the white tile wall in front of him, hunching over to wrap the other around his meat.
—
You turn the key to Wooyoung’s apartment, hoping he’d be home by now. The last thing you wanted to do was remind him of tonight’s result, as you knew how much the sport meant to him. So, you intended to approach him cautiously so as to not trigger his disappointment.
“Wooyoung?” You walk through the apartment, but most of the lights are out.
Maybe he’s asleep, you think, placing a pint of his favorite ice cream inside the freezer. You start making your way to his room, but the lights in there are also out.
The only light effusing faintly through the room was coming from the restroom, and you could hear the sounds of the running shower echoing from behind the slightly-opened door.
Oh, he’s home, then, you think, almost smiling before realizing that there were more sounds coming from inside the restroom than just the running shower head.
Soft moans and grunts emitted from deep within Wooyoung’s throat, and you placed an ear closer to the door to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in there with him.
What am I doing? He wouldn’t cheat on me—
OOF!!
Wooyoung lets out a startled shriek as you stumble into the restroom floor, falling flat on your face after having tripped over some folded jeans and a belt in the dark.
“I’M SO SORRY,” you scramble back to your feet, lunging for the door and slamming it shut behind you.
“Babe? When’d you get here?” Wooyoung yells from inside as he turns off the shower head, wrapping a loose towel around his waist.
“I only just got here,” you say, hugging your knees as you crouched on the floor against the restroom door.
Behind you, Wooyoung opens the door and a hot cloud of steam emerges from behind him.
“What are you doing here so late!?” he smiles for the first time all night, pulling you up and hugging you from behind. “Shouldn’t you be home and asleep right now?”
Damp drops of his wet hair soak your cheek and shirt collar as he buries his head into your shoulder, planting soft and wet kisses against your neck.
“I couldn’t not see you tonight,” you say quietly.
“Right,” Wooyoung pauses, lifting his head back in a scoff as the unpleasant reminder of tonight’s match crosses his mind. “That fucker’s good, I can’t deny it.”
You felt Wooyoung shiver slightly as the steamed warmth of the restroom had begun to slowly fade away.
"Uhm, why don't you go ahead and finish your shower? Get your mind off things."
"Okay," he huffs, "but you're coming with me."
—
Wooyoung, ever so gently, cranks up the heated water temperature and throws a water-safe lubing tube aside before turning his body around to face you. His wet hair falls over his forehead, his eyes darkening in desperation at the sight of your naked body leaning against the wall.
He wraps his hands slowly around your waist, leaning his face in closer as he begins caressing his lips gently against yours. He trails his teeth slowly to your bottom lip, nibbling ever so slightly as the water progressively got warmer and warmer behind him.
You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head back as he trails kisses all over you. Soft gasps begin escaping your lips as you feel him lean his body weight against you, pinning your back further against the wall as his hardened cock poked itself between your thighs. You clutched onto the horizontal shower handle as Wooyoung carefully lifted you over it, groping your ass with both hands as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
For a few moments, you both remained comfortably in this position whilst making out longer, letting the hot water pour against your bodies as more and more steam fogged the air around you. You'd closed your eyes and let yourself be immersed by the feeling of his hot lips fighting to dominate yours, his tongue tracing and circling inside and around your mouth. He traced one hand against the outline of your ass to your waist, massaging his fingers gently around your nipple. You gasped at the sudden feel of his soft fingertips against your breasts, and your continuous soft moans only further hardened his already-erect cock.
He smiled into your mouth as he began gliding his hand back down to your abdomen, nudging gently against your clit as your moans progressively became more and more desperate for him.
"I might've not been able to win my boxing match," he whispers, "but I'll sure as hell make sure I dominate the fuck out of this one."
He pulls his fingers away from your clit and begins aligning his dick carefully with your entrance. You let out soft moans as the boy begins thrusting himself into you, experimenting with different speeds as your despairing cries begged for more. You clawed your fingernails deep into his back as the boy recklessly fucked you over and over, your insides heating up as the sounds of his desperate moans greeted your ears. The size of his cock was enough to make you want to scream at him to stop, but he just felt too fucking good pounding away like this when he was angry that you wouldn't dare yourself to give in.
"Fuck," he groans, lifting one of your legs up and over his shoulder as you safely clutched most of your weight against the shower handles. The boy tried desperately to hold in his grunts and groans, but with each deepening thrust, he kept flashing the stupid grin of Yugyeom's face in his mind, irking his anger more and more as he took it out on you. This resulted in a heated, rough fucking-session, and each impending whimper and scream from your mouth only made him want to push further.
In a sudden instant, he pulled out, making you whimper in slight frustration thinking he'd finished. But fuck no, he wasn't anywhere near done.
You switch positions, and now your body is turned at one end of the shower facing away from him, his hands wrapped around your stomach and your lower back as he breathes heavily into your ear.
"Bend for me," is all he says as you obediently hunch yourself forward, placing both your arms against the tub's edges as you feel his body weight leaning into your ass.
Once he's realigned to your entrance again, he assumes his reckless fucking as he starts hitting it from the back. With both hands groped tightly against your hips, the boy holds nothing back as he fucks into you at full throttle.
He's really fucking pissed. Also, you feel really fucking good as your velvety walls lurch around his throbbing cock.
"Fuck, babe," you whimper, holding back from letting your knees give in completely the moment he finds your G-spot. "Stay right there, fuck me right there."
The tempered boy starts panting harder with each deepening thrust, closing his eyes as his dampened bangs rocked back and forth against his forehead. He could feel the heated rush of pumping blood overwhelming every cell of his throbbing member. He leaned one arm forward against the wall, the other still wrapped tightly against your ass.
You let out a final, pleasurable cry as your boyfriend triggers a hot, gratifying orgasm, your knees buckling in place as you bent and rested your face over your folded arms against the tub's edge. His groans were not far from yours as he concentrated on reaching his climax next. Finally, his knees weaken at the feel of his cum shooting through and out of your walls, a final victory that he could satisfyingly consider bringing home for the night.
"Fuck," he says, pulling you up as you rested your head against his shoulder, hot water splashing delightfully against your bodies.
"You're good at fucking people up," you smile as he bends over to leave hot, gentle kisses over your gaped mouth.
"Nah," he smiles, "I'm just good at fucking you."
—
One gentler shower later, you both cuddled under Wooyoung's covers feeling fresher and more satisfied after the night's better outcomes.
"Wooyoung?" you look up under your hair towel as he leaves gentle kisses against your forehead. "Would you ever have a re-match with Yugyeom?"
"Hmm," he smiles, toying with a finger gently against your stomach, "I don't know yet."
"I think you should," you declare.
"I don't always have to win. I have to learn to accept defeat, too," he smiles.
"Oh," you say, intertwining your fingers around his. "I hope you lose a lot more, then."
"Why would you say that?" he furrows his brows in annoyance.
"Because I like the way you fuck me when you're mad," you smirk.
"Believe me," he giggles, sinking his face into your neck, "I'll try not to lose too many matches to keep you safe, then."
You both soon fell asleep, Wooyoung satisfied with the thought that at the very least, there was one thing that even a great boxer like Yugyeom couldn't ever take away from him.
You.
#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#wooyoung#ateez wooyoung#ateez wooyoung smut#wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung smut#Hongjoong smut#Hongjoong#Mingi smut#Mingi#jongho smut#jongho#Ateez san#Ateez san smut#Ateez yunho smut#ateez yunho#ateez yeosang#ateez seonghwa#ateez scenarios#wooyoung imagines#wooyoung oneshots#ateez wooyoung oneshots#ateez wooyoung fanfic
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The Vampyres--The Bones and Blood of the Book
Good news! I’m not dead and the book isn’t either! Just shambling slowly through the wasteland of the publication process. It’s been a bit since I last waved this bloody morsel around. So, consider this a progress report on the state of the novella, the prospective publishing options, and a few other questions that have been bouncing around in the inbox.
EDIT:
I have a website now! For some reason.
It's See Arcane Scribbles.
Smaller Edit:
Got a Spotify too for story soundtrack goodness:
COVERS
First things first—and the first part of a finished book is the cover. Here are some mockups I’ve been juggling, starting with the original placeholder. They’re far from perfect, but I’m proud of what I managed with a fairly skinny graphic art skill set.
FINISHING, FORMAT, AND FINANCE*
*(OR, THE HEADACHENING)
Copyright: Technically speaking, you have the copyright to your own writing once you put it to paper or screen. But this is somehow a different thing from a legally-binding registered copyright, which everyone declares is a must-have if you want your work to be protected with more than a non-textual trust-fall exercise, hoping nobody steals your work and runs.
That said, electronic registration with the copyright office is $65, or $45 to register one work by one author.
ISBN: I only recently learned the words behind this acronym. ‘International Standard Book Number.’ It’s the ID on a book that marks it as unique and helps commercial booksellers and libraries circulate it. Each iteration of a book—paperback, digital, hardcover, new editions, et cetera—has its own ISBN. When you’re publishing on your own, you purchase ISBNs through a service called Bowker.
One book/version’s ISBN costs $125.
There are better bargains the higher the number of books and/or versions you go, starting at a bulk of 10 books for $295. But as I only have the one (1) skinny novella on the table, that’s a no-go. Which begs the question of how many ISBNs are in store for this little monster. It depends on how many formats I go with.
eBook: The quickest and most cost-efficient option across the board for any self-publication service. Short, sweet, no printing pains of trim sizes or distribution costs or formatting, oh my. Nice.
Paperback VS Hardcover: …But I am now and forever a sucker for physical media. Even though it’s a teeny brochure of a thing, I want to hold a physical copy of The Vampyres in my hands! So bad! And every service I’ve looked through has stated the obvious: Hardcover costs more than paperback. My heart won’t break if I have to stick with paperback to spare everyone’s wallets—hardcovers are pricy in both directions!—but I am a little torn. Especially as physical size might affect the price too.
Here we have two of my favorite quick reads, an anthology of Poe stories and Clive Barker’s novella, The Hellbound Heart.
The Poe book is a clothbound hardcover. 6.5 x 4.5 inches, a bit over 120 pages.
The Hellbound Heart is roughly 8 x 5 inches (about standard for a novella), at 164 pages. But unlike Poe, it looks like Barker took some liberties with the spacing and font size.
Standard size dimensions cost less than unique cuts, which means that whether paperback or hardcover, I sadly have to say goodbye to the petite palm-sized edition I was hoping for. On the upside, good news to us crap-vision readers—the font’s going to get H U G E in order to make the book more than a pamphlet with delusions of grandeur.
Audiobook: The fact is, my voice is not up to the task of reciting anything with appropriate gravitas and I think we’ve all been spoiled by @re-dracula and assorted other podcasts’ skill in orating. I don’t have the cash to hire a professional and I’m not about to accept anyone’s freebie offers. I won’t pickpocket friends for their talent. If an audio version ever comes along for any story of mine it’ll be down the road when it proves worth the format’s effort and cost.
REVIEWS (and a Foreword!)
It was the best of times (People reading the thing! Commenting on the thing! Good good good—), it was the worst of times (The Mortifying Ordeal of People Reading and Commenting on the Thing). Time for what every advice site declares a book absolutely must have the moment it’s thrust into the wild.
Reviews, reviews, reviews.
I’ve already bitten several bullets and passed copies out to a handful of fellow scribblers to scrutinize, their reviews destined to be hung up like literary gold stars on their bookselling site of choice, my own included. Now comes my preliminary grovel to readers en masse to please drop a review, a comment, a blurb of any shape or size where you can once The Vampyres drops. I’ve already gotten some early comments that have consisted mostly of screaming. Screams also count as a review.
As an aside, there are two folks in particular who I reached out to who exist in the stratosphere of Coolest People in the Vampiric Lit scene. They promptly exploded me into disbelieving giblets when they told me, yes, they’d be happy to read my little story and offer up a review and a foreword for the book respectively.
I’m not sure what the decorum here is, but for safety (and surprise’s) sake, I’ll not name names. But they are names I’ve been happy to come across for the past two years while neck deep in the undead book club. I’m infinitely grateful to both of them and am waiting on pins, needles, stakes and kukri blades by my inbox so I can pin their words up inside the book itself.
FUTURE SCRIBBLING
To get one of the biggest questions out of the way, let’s talk about Barking Harker.
My very own object lesson on sunk cost fallacy.
I wrote my way through a goddamn cinderblock of text without even grazing the finish line of the first section of the story. A story made of so many convoluted triple-decker layers of subplots and side characters that it had the structural integrity of a monolithic Nature Valley granola bar, just waiting to fall apart under its own weight. Such is the hubris and curse of too-many-words-itis. The Vampyres remains a miraculous fluke, jotted down during an overdue break from BH’s slog. Not just because I tripped and fell into finishing the story, but because it’s comparatively compact! Brevity at last!
For those still craving the assorted gothic and ghoulish promises of the initial novel idea, don’t worry, those aren’t going anywhere. I’ve just crumbled the metaphorical bloodstained granola by my own hand and have done the sane thing of parsing out the various subplots to become the foundations of their own stories. Which they really should have been from the get-go. Insert 100+ clown emojis here.
On that note, I am turning into WIPs Georg over here. Good god.
I hesitate to throw myself all-in again and make promises of X Story that may leave me spinning my mental wheels or ballooning the plot out into a behemoth that can’t be steered back on course. Even so, here’s a peek at a few ideas I currently have on the brain.
So.
Not exactly lacking for stories. It’s just a matter of seeing which of them breaks ahead of the herd and squeezes out into the publication ether first.
LAST BIT
Blah, blah, requisite reminder that I have a Ko-Fi where you can donate a buck or commission my best attempt at art, blah. Any pennies are a help.
But I’m betting very few of you came around here for my doodles. Somehow, a good amount of people tripped into this pit with me because you enjoy the rambles and horrors I’ve written over the years. Maybe some of you will even buy my book once it’s out. And you, there, on the other side of the screen—you’re reading this right now. You made it all the way to the bottom of this pile of exposition just because you wanted to. So, thank you.
Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for reading before and reading what’s to come. Thank you for giving me the confidence to even consider shouldering my own work out into the wider world.
Thank you.
P.S. If you want to re-read the preview, go here!
#this one is a Big Boy#the vampyres#my writing#my art#horror#the vampyre#dracula#barking harker#Spotify
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I keep talking about this, and I don't care that I've kept repeating it. Okay, so... Undertale's murder route has a max kill count of 120 (with a minimum of 101).
The minimum comes from 20+16+18+40, +7 bosses. The maximum comes from the possibility of a multi enemy encounters being your last for each area, plus the fact that minibosses can be encountered even after the kill counter is exhausted.
120 kills...
This screenshot alone has more than 100 monster souls, I think. The animation has 10 souls per each circle of monster souls. There could definitely be thousands of souls within Asriel, ...and then there's the fact that the screen fades to white and stuff like that.
And then there's something in the Mettaton EX fight...
The RATINGS number can get to 12000+. 12000+ is the max number to have that'd end the fight.
"OOH, LOOK AT THESE RATINGS!!! THIS IS THE MOST VIEWERS I'VE EVER HAD!!!"
this is the VIEWER COUNT THE UNDERGROUND HAS 12000+ MONSTERS
The fact that the Underground has 12000+ monsters, yet the route where your goal is to basically kill everyone has a max kill count of 120...
It means that you've only killed less than a percent of the monster population.
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