#BUT IT TURNS OUT THE ONE CONTRIBUTION I HAD WAS THE SOLUTION

[general-kalani]

Have at least three fc's considered I'll do a poll on them tomorrow. Back home now yeah but I am. Fucked LMFAO.

I forgot how much I hate puzzles---

[desertdragon]

This shit is so ass I just want it to be over

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[shlonguru]

Lucifer x Fem!Reader - White Party in the Lust Ring

Pairing : Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader (Alastor's sister)

Summary : Being Alastor's little sister can have its perks, but if you're fighting with him it can push you close to certain unexpected people.

Warning : 18+, Smut, oral, creampie, teasing, overstimulation, cunnilingus, daddy issues, daddy kink (shocker), edging, praise kink.

Word count : 5029 words (oml it keeps getting worse)

My hyperfixation on Lucifer is far from over (help) but I have received some requests that all contributed to this smut so I'm sorry that I couldn't reply to one specific request but I would like to thank you all. I hope you all enjoy~ Once again I want to thank @wipmoop for their amazing artwork for the cover! If you wanna check out the uncensored version of the cover, it'll be up on their page soon, they're genuinely awesome, check them out with love ♥ Shlonguru out! o/

~ At the Hazbin Hotel ~

Life was hard being Alastor’s little sister. He might have been very good at protecting you but he made sure your freedom was limited in return. In fact, you weren’t even sure if he protected you because he cared about you or because he was territorial. And he was hard to bargain with. You were living with him amongst others at the Hazbin Hotel and were more than bored during your days until you were offered a job working as Lucifer’s assistant. The only reason Alastor didn’t make a fuss about you working there, despite him absolutely hating Lucifer’s guts, was because Lucifer was powerful enough to make sure you were safe at all times.

This morning, you had just been in a fight. Some of your friends had invited you to a fun night out and Alastor had noticed you packing more than usual on your way to Lucifer’s. He had noticed as he walked by your room.

“Aren’t you packing a little heavy today?” He inquired.

You rolled your eyes already knowing what was coming.

“Yeah, my friends are going out in the Lust Ring tonight, so I packed another outfit and other stuff so I can change before I join them.” You replied.

“The Lust Ring? I don’t think so, dear. Do you want to end up like Angel Dust, with an Overlord owning your soul?” He calmly replied.

“Yeah, you’re right! Which is why I have the perfect solution for that, how about I don’t sell my soul to anyone? That should do it I think.” You stated snarkily, zipping up your bag.

“I’ve already explained to you that it isn’t that simple and that you have more value to the eyes of most people in hell than you seem to realize.” He countered, slightly losing his cool.

“Listen, I’m a fully grown adult, I know how to take care of myself.” You calmly tried to explain.

“You might be a grown adult, but you are not nearly as strong as you would need to be to take care of yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, knowing he had made a good point.

“Huh… So, what do you want me to do exactly? Rot here for the rest of eternity? No, I’m going out.” You started making your way out of the hotel when he snapped his fingers, making your bag teleport next to him.

You angrily walked back and grabbed it again.

“Stop that, will you? I said I’m going out!” You walked away only for him to snap his fingers again, repeating the same process.

You turned around red of anger. “You’re gonna make me late to work!” You shouted.

“You’re lucky I let you work for this minikin at all.” He replied defiantly.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, flipping him the finger and leaving, slamming the hotel’s door behind you and choosing to abandon your bag.

~ At Lucifer’s Tower ~

You got along with your boss really well, you both were very cheerful beings and your personalities just clicked, he had offered you the job of assistant because he was “having a hard time handling all of his important business”. You knew by now that he was actually just working on his ducks so much that he was never able to handle the rest of his business on time. He had also offered you the job when he saw how bored you were at the hotel, that and your common trait of fighting with Alastor almost every time you were in the same room. You enjoyed working for him and he was very grateful to have you.

You arrived at Lucifer’s tower a little late, but it wasn’t unusual for you. Lucifer was busy designing a new duck in his office when he heard you arrive and came to greet you.

“Hello y/n!” How are we doing in this fine morning?” He smiled, always happy to see you.

“Hello Sir, I’m ok.” You replied in an irritated tone, the difference with your usual cheerful self, alarming Lucifer.

“What’s up? You seem like, super down.” He questioned.

“Yeah, I got into a fight with Al.” You replied coldly, removing your coat and hanging it.

“Oh, that bastard, it’s like he can’t start his day if he hasn’t ruined someone else’s.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of Alastor.

“Right? That asshole...” You let out.

“What did he do this time?” He crossed his arms, resting his shoulder against the wall near you.

“My friends are going out tonight in the Lust Ring and they invited me, but he won’t let me go cause he’s afraid I’m gonna end up in danger. Fuck, I can’t do anything. Hell is literally filled with bad people, I can’t just stay locked up forever.” You whined.

“Wait, you frequent the Lust Ring?” He asked curiously. You looked at him and noticed a hint of red on his face.

“I would like to! But he won’t let me!” You moaned. “Why? Is that surprising?” You added.

“No…” He looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I guess I had never seen you under that light before.” He smiled. “But you are a bad bitch, so it’s not too surprising.” He finished.

Lucifer paused, looking away, kind of hesitant.

“What if I accompanied you? That way, he couldn’t say he’s afraid you’d end up in danger, you’d be with the strongest being of Hell~” He offered in a self-assured tone.   

“Really? You’d do that?” Your eyes sparkled at the offer.

“Sure! it’s been a while since I came by and said hi to Ozzie anyways.” He chuckled.

You paused for a second and remembered you had left without your bag.

“I left all of my clothes and stuff at the hotel though.” You sighed.

“I’ll get someone to go get your stuff for you, how does that sound?” He smiled.

“You’re the best!” You cheered excitedly hugging him. He smiled and hugged you back.

“Is there a theme to this party?” He asked.

“It’s a white party.” You smiled.

“Not very surprising of the Lust Ring if you ask me.” He stated.

You nodded and proceeded with your day, your mood back its usual merry self.

By the end of the day, you had gotten your bag back and had gotten ready at Lucifer’s place.

He was waiting in his living room for you to finish getting ready in the guest room. The blonde demon was wearing an all-white suit made perfectly for him.

He saw you come out of the room and looked like he had stopped breathing.

You were wearing a white dress that was perfectly balanced between cute and sexy, the contrast with your crimson mane was sumptuous. You had done your make-up for the party, a black smokey, making your usually ethereal ruby eyes look fierce.

“You like it?” You smiled, showing off your outfit.

“Oh damn…” He wiped his forehead, looking warm as he ventilated himself with his hand as he stood up. “You’re hot!” He blurted, catching himself and putting his hand over his mouth. “I mean, not that you usually aren’t, trust me I love your work outfits, you look very preppy it’s great, but you look, I mean, sexy!” He looked embarrassed at how surprised he was.

“Thank you?” You questioned. “Indeed, I wouldn’t wear that to work.” You chuckled. “It wouldn’t be very convenient don’t you think?” You teased, walking up to him. You were close in height, but you still won by a few inches.

“Right! Oh lord land me strength…” He muttered to himself.

“What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing! Let’s go!” He handed you his arm and you left together for the party.

~ At the White Party ~

You arrived at the party, it was huge, everything was screaming lust, and the whole venue was gorgeous. As you walked in, Lucifer spotted Asmodeus, with whom he had fun reconnecting with Asmodeus and even introduced the two of you.

“And this is y/n!” He introduced you after chatting for a while.

“Oh, is this your girl?” Ozzie asked boldly.

You unintentionally blushed and smiled to hide it.

“No…” He replied much more flushed than you. “She’s my assistant.” He added.

“You mean your assistant in bed, right? Cause you two got that chemistry if you know what I mean, it’s like, hard not to notice.” Ozzie continued, noticing how awkward you had both become, making him smirk.

“Stop it Ozzie! I told you it’s not like that.” Added Lucifer seriously before turning to you awkwardly. “Sorry about that y/n.”

“Yeah okay, Luci, then welcome to the Lust Ring to you and your totally-just-platonic-friend then.” He smiled mischievously before leading you to your VIP zone with your group of friends.

You and your friends enjoyed the party, and so did Lucifer. You danced with him, drank with him, in fact, you were all feeling tipsy and at this point acted much more casual with him than you thought possible, though he still made sure you didn’t go overboard. In fact, he had had way more than you but looked completely unaffected, however. You had noticed you two were getting closer and closer as the night went on. You enjoyed grinding against him and he enjoyed it just as much, as well as showing off his own dance moves. And after a few hours, you both sat down at your booth.

“Wow Luci! Thank you so much for tonight you sure know how to party!” You thanked him.

“Thanks! It’s been a while, but it seems like you don’t forget good habits.” He smiled.

“I can’t believe my dickhead of a brother would keep me from experiencing all of this.”

“I mean he sure is a dickhead, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s fair that he doesn’t want anything bad happening to you.” He replied calmly.

“Well, I guess it depends on what you consider a bad thing?” You smiled teasingly at him.

“What do you mean?” He asked tilting his head slightly.

“Let’s just say I’m sure there are things he wouldn’t want happening to me that I wouldn’t consider bad in the slightest.” You looked at Lucifer intently getting a little closer.

“Oh yeah?” He said a smile forming in the corner of his mouth. “Such as what?” He leaned towards you slightly raising an eyebrow.

You took your opportunity and leaned in, pressing your lips against his, surprising him slightly but he immediately reciprocated, running his fingers through your hair. He pulled you slightly closer to him and you rested your hands against his chest. After a moment he started kissing you deeper, getting greedier by the seconds. He placed a hand on your cheek, and you felt his tongue slide in your mouth and your whole body became warm from the inside. You shared this deep kiss for what felt like hours but had probably been minutes before you slowly pulled away, your half-lidded eyes looking at Lucifer with nothing but lust.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, or I won’t be able to restrain myself.” He said looking back at you, gently holding your chin up, looking as lustful as you did.

You laid your hand on his thigh, squeezing it softly and earning a groan from him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want y/n?” He asked one last time. “Our relationship might never be the same.”

You looked him dead in the eyes. “Fuck our old relationship.” You smiled.

He smiled back. “Alright, then.”

And with that he deployed his six wings and took off, surprising you and holding you princess style. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and looked at him, you could tell from the serious and determined look on his face that he meant business.

You started kissing and sucking on his neck, making him shudder lightly.

“Hold on y/n, I’m going as fast as I can, but if you distract me, it’s only going to take longer.” He pleaded.

“I’m just trying to keep myself busy…” You whispered, licking his earlobe, making his flight pattern weaker.

“Okay, enjoy yourself, I’ll make sure to not restrain myself later…” He added, still looking ahead.

“I would hate it if you did.” You countered, reaching down, and placing your hand on his crotch. His pants were as tight as they could get and what was underneath was throbbing. He immediately stopped mid-flight, making you yelp in surprise.

“Now you’ve done it y/n.” He changed positions, wrapping your legs around him, pressing his crotch against yours and moving his hands to your ass. He proceeded to kiss you deeply, moaning softly as he felt your soft lips against his. You melted into the kiss, feeling how wet your own crotch had gotten already. He pulled out after a moment and looked deep into your eyes, you could see the desire burning in his eyes, though he managed to keep himself more composed than you.

“As much as I’d love to display such an amazing show to all of Hell, it is not really my style.” He smiled. “So, you’re going to be a good girl and behave so I can get us where we need to be.” He looked at you seriously.

You nodded.

“Good.” He smiled, before going ahead and moving you back to princess style as he continued forward.

~ Back at Lucifer's Tower ~

It was hard, but you had managed to keep your hands to yourself for the remaining 2 minutes of the flight.

Lucifer landed through his huge panoramic windows that were left open into his bedroom at the top of his tower.

You had never been into his personal bedroom, mostly just his office, but it was beautiful. The red theme was very elegant, and his Caesar size bed looked incredibly comfortable. You walked inside amazed at how luxurious everything looked.

“Y/n?” You heard from behind you.

You turned around only to be faced with Lucifer’s glowing figure, lit from behind by the moonlight. He had a plotting look on his face, a devilish smile perfectly formed on his confident face. He was calmly walking towards you, rolling up his sleeves.

“I hope you had fun with your little mid-flight teasing…” He fake-chuckled then sighed. “…because it’s time to take responsibility.” The smile was still there but his expression was much more serious.

You didn’t move, you just waited for him to walk up to you. When he reached you, he grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you softly at first. You kissed him back, but the kiss quickly turned into a much more heated one. You kept kissing as you stepped towards his bed, you removed his jacket from him, and he unzipped your dress as he approached the bed.

Your dress fell to the ground, exposing your white laced lingerie. As soon as your dress hit the ground you had found yourself with your legs wrapped around his hips once more, his hands holding you up effortlessly as you made out. You reached the bed, and he laid you on it. He took a good look at your figure, your expression, your curves, your hair.

“Stunning.” He whispered.

“You’re not bad yourself.” You smiled.

“Thanks!” He exclaimed, removing his shirt and exposing his fit figure. You stared just long enough for him to start smirking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Nope.” You answered truthfully.

He giggled.

“You’re funny, now get ready.”

You hadn’t had time to realize what he meant when you felt your thighs get lifted and spread with enough force to surprise you. You didn’t have time to vocally question what was happening that you felt your panties being pushed to the side and Lucifer give a slow lick to all of your womanhood, making you moan louder than you were comfortable with. You rapidly pressed your hands on your mouth. As soon as you had done so you heard him.

“Nuh huh~” He hummed.

“What?” You questioned looking down at Lucifer buried between your thighs, though not doing anything to you anymore.

“Remove those hands and let me hear it.” He looked playful and serious.

You slowly removed your hands, and he immediately went back to his business, licking you thoroughly, you could tell not only did he know what he was doing but he was also greatly enjoying himself while doing so. It was like he could feel your pleasure, giving him the ability to always adjust perfectly. You felt his tongue enter you and go deeper than you thought possible. Your moans were getting louder, he knew what spots were the most sensitive, and he teased them, building your pleasure. He loved the control he had over how you were feeling, he ate you out as tenderly and as roughly as you needed to turn you into a moaning mess, grabbing at the sheets. Every time he felt you get closer, he started teasing another spot, building your frustration alongside your pleasure. It drove you insane and soon enough you found yourself pleading with him to let you come.

“Luci please!” You implored.

“Yes, what is it love?” He asked innocently, playing coy.

“Come on please, stop teasing me.” You pleaded.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He smiled, enjoying the situation to the fullest. “What do you want me to do?” He added.

“Luci please let me come!” You begged; any ounce of pride you had having left your body at this point.

Lucifer got visibly aroused at those words, his eyes turning red for an instant as he went back at it, passionately eating you out and making you come the next moment, unleashing all your pent-up pleasure as your back arched into the leg-shaking orgasm. You moaned his name loudly as you melted into the mattress. You could feel him smile as he finished enjoying you.

You were catching your breath and recovering as Lucifer started kissing up your body, your stomach, chest then neck. That’s when you heard him speak softly.

“That’s for teasing me.” He looked into your eyes before landing a soft kiss on your lips.

You were too astounded to talk back.

At this point his crotch was pressing against yours and he looked more excited than ever.

“Good start now let’s get a little more serious.” He grinned before flipping the both of you making you straddle him as he laid back. You realized at this moment just how much he had planned for you tonight.

“Hmm…we won’t need that.” He snapped his finger making any remnants of clothes either of you wore vanish, exposing your breasts to him for the first time. His eyes devoured you as you felt a false sense of control back. You rested your hands on his chest, pressing your breasts together.

“Is everything okay?” You asked with a teasing tone.

“Nope.” He replied, realizing what you were doing. You grabbed his hand and pressed it against your breast.

“Want some of that, Daddy?” You sneered.

He squeezed your breast in a way that sent jolt in all your body, letting a moan escape your mouth, you face immediately flushing.

“Oh, what was that?” He smirked then proceeded to fondle your breasts again, making you feel weak as you moaned.

“I don’t understand how you do this!” You whined.

“Do what?” He said as he did it again, sending jolts up your body.

“You’re not using dirty tricks on me, are you?” You asked skeptically.

He looked at you and laughed audibly, before composing himself and propping himself up with one hand, placing his mouth next to your ear.

“No y/n, I’m just that good.” He declared confidently. Your face went crimson as you felt embarrassed and tried to hold your moans in as he continued teasing your now rock-hard nipple.

“I mean, besides the fact that I’m pretty confident in my own skill, that must surely mean that we are particularly compatible, don’t you think?” He asked nonchalantly.

You nodded, trying your best not to get lost in the pleasure this tease was inflicting upon you.

Your eyes widened lightly as you realized that your clothes having now been removed from the equation, your private parts were now directly in contact, you used that to your advantage and softly grinded against his shaft, earning a loud moan from him, surprising the both of you.

“I guess you’re right.” You smiled from the corner of your mouth.

He grinned lightly blushing before grabbing your waist and flipping you around as if you were a feather. You were still on top of him but you had now found yourself in a 69, your crotch inches from his face and his throbbing member right in front of you. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was proud of it.

You didn’t want to give him time to take control, so you grabbed the base of his shaft and took his tip in your mouth. You heard him groan as you swirled your tongue around it before giving his cock a hungry lick from the bottom up.

“Easy there, we have all night.” He cheerfully declared, panting softly.

You ignored him and kept enjoying yourself, savoring him like a lollipop.

“I see how it’s- gonna be.” He exclaimed; you could feel him struggling to fake his composure.

In one movement he pulled you even closer to his face and spread your pussy before passionately starting to eat you out again. You quickly felt weak, you pulled his cock out of your mouth, letting a long moan escape as a trail of saliva still linked your mouth to his head.

“Take it easy, I wouldn’t want you to choke~” He taunted.

“Don’t worry about me, this is nothing.” You replied with conviction.

You proceeded to lower your mouth on his cock all the way to the base, his whole member tickling more than the entrance of your throat.

“Oh god-“You had taken him by surprise, forcing an intense moan out of him, as he gripped the sheets tightly, pausing his own activity.

“Oh dear, you might wanna slow down a little.” He gasped.

You had him and you knew it, you moved in swift motions, your tongue wrapped around his shaft, hitting all the way down each time as you felt his body contract and his dick pulsate more and more.

“Holy shit y/n wait, I’m gonna- “He moaned as you felt his cum explode your mouth. This surprised you as you had been so focused on getting back at him, but you swallowed everything. Enjoying every bit of it, sucking him dry, or so you thought.

You finished swallowing and peeked at him, his head laying on the mattress as he caught his breath. He noticed you and grinned through his panting. “Nice play Y/n, impressive even, I hope you had fun.”

“I very much did, thank you.” You replied cheekily.

“Cause now it’s my turn.” He announced. You immediately felt two fingers enter your hole. He voluntarily pressed hard against your G-spot, the sensation so intense you screamed in pleasure. He grabbed your thigh tightly with one hand and fingered you relentlessly with the other. The pleasure overwhelming as you helplessly melted into it.

“Luci…please-“ You attempted but were cut.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He continued. You grabbed his thigh tightly as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Come on go ahead, come for me.” He groaned, his calm and sarcastic demeanor replaced progressively by a heated passion. You tried your best to resist but it was pointless. You turned around, catching a glimpse of him, and were caught off guard, witnessing his horns out and his eyes red while he looked like he was intensely enjoying himself. He pulled out his fingers and proceeded to eat you with all his might, his tongue hitting your spot just right to make you climax against his mouth as he savored all of it.

He finished enjoying himself while you recuperated from it all. When you peeked at him again, he had gone back to his usual self.

“Do you often get all red and…horny, I guess?” You asked.

He flipped you around, pressing you against his chest, face to face.

“What was that? Oh, you mean my horns and stuff? Only when I get heated. Do you not like it? Cause I can try to tone it down.” He asked, a worried look on his face.

“No, I like that I get you heated…” You looked away, a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

He smiled softly. He cupped your face then kissed you tenderly.

“You do have that effect on me.”

You felt his member back to its throbbing state. You kissed him deeply yet delicately before looking at him seductively.

“Luci, time for the main course don’t you think?” You rubbed your soaked entrance against his hard member. “I’m at my limit.” You begged.

Having witnessed his previous reactions, you weren’t surprised when you felt his member grow even bigger after you had pronounced those words.

“Good because I’m also reaching my limit.” He answered.

You felt his tip press against your entrance and slide all the way in as you both melted into each other, a deep sigh of relief escaping your mouths.

“Holy-…you feel so good.” He groaned. He sat up, setting you both in a lotus position before resting his hands on your hips and starting to thrust. The pleasure felt so visceral you both moved cautiously as if trying to not come too fast, but without noticing, you both picked up the pace, panting and moaning filling the air. Your hands were gripping his shoulders tightly as you rocked your hips. One of his hands had migrated to your ass, squeezing your cheek tightly and the other was fondling your breast. You cupped his face and kissed him deeply, playing with his tongue as you felt his member twitch inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair while kissing him and noticed him moan more as you did so.

Soon, the position wasn’t allowing him to move as freely as he desired and he was now standing on his knees, holding both of your ass cheeks tightly as he pounded into you. You were panting heavily as you felt it coming once again.

“Coming already?” He teased, his own panting giving away how he also felt.

You nodded no, not very convincingly. He took that as a challenge and precisely hit your G-spot repeatedly until you came, whimpering and your grip weakening.

“Good thing you’re not coming dear.” He kissed your neck, slightly sucking on it leaving a hickey.

This position had become too much for you, so he laid you flat on your stomach.

“You’re hanging there Y/n?” He asked eagerly.

“Of course!” You replied enthusiastically, it felt like your stamina was bottomless for all this pleasure.

“Good.” He replied. You felt him enter you again hungrily from behind, his body hovering over yours as he held both of your wrists, pinning them down onto the bed. Each thrust forcing a louder moan out of you. It was like the more he fucked you, the easier it became for him to make you come. His moans had also become deeper as he kept thrusting, your own increasing tightness making it harder for him. He moved his hands to your hips and dug his nails into you, allowing him a better control as he thrusted even deeper than before. You held the sheets tightly as you tried your best to match his movements, both feeding off each other’s building pleasure.

“Y/n.” You heard from behind.

You tried turning around to tell him you felt yourself getting closer when you felt his lips roughly take yours. He could’ve sent you over the edge with that kiss alone, but he also thrusted deeper than he ever had at the same time, you could only lean into the kiss as you felt the two of you come simultaneously.

As soon as the wave had finished washing over you, you collapsed on the bed, and he collapsed on top of you. He quickly caught himself though, rolling next to you and pulling you into his arms. You both relaxed for a moment, holding each other.

“Oh, my lord, that was amazing!” You heard him speak first. You turned to him, and he was smiling at you.

“It really was.” You calmly replied.

“I told you I was confident in my skill.” He smiled turning from tender to confident as he traced his finger over your body.

“I guess it was alright.” You declared.

The silence following made you look up, only to be met with a devastated look on his face.

“I’m joking!” You added, feeling bad about your joke.

“Ah! I knew that!” He fake-laughed awkwardly trying to look confident. You laughed at how cute he looked.

You pecked his lips.

You cuddled for a while before you heard a buzzing sound.

“My phone! It must still be in my dress.” You reached your dress, covering yourself with the sheet of the bed, grabbing your phone then heading back to the bed.

You checked your phone and noticed 20 missed calls.

“Huh, fuck him.” You both exclaimed at the same time before staring at each other in surprise and bursting out laughing.

You heard another buzz and was expecting it from your phone, but no new notifications had appeared.

Lucifer grabbed his phone and started laughing nervously.

“What is it?” You inquired.

“That’s, hmm…” He showed you a message that read:

From 'Ozzie 🍆💦' : I saw you took off early with your totally-just-platonic-friend. How’s the banging? 😏🍑

You stared at it for a second then you both exchanged a look and blinked, before bursting out laughing this time even harder.

~ The End ~

[msschemmenti]

problem solved

jemily x reader

prompt: reader’s roommate is literally the worst but jj and emily have a simple solution for their third.

a/n: my roommate SUCKS and im a doormat when it comes to living situations so i need the outlet.

“where are you right now?” jj asked down the phone as she and emily drove through some deserted town in arizona. they’d been out in the dry heat for two days now and they were more than ready to go home. it didn’t particularly help that they’d just officially had a rather positive change in their relationship three weeks ago. having to jet off just days after such a big transition was proving to be a bit jarring. the sort of domestic bliss they’d found themselves living in was disrupted and neither of them liked it one bit.

“i’m sitting on a park bench. i can’t rant and rave like this in the apartment.” y/n sighed heavily down the phone.

jj pulled the phone from her ear to check the time and quickly moved it back to scold the younger woman. “it’s almost 8pm there, you shouldn’t be sitting on a park bench alone right now.”

emily scoffs in irritation, “put her on speaker.”

jj puts y/n on speaker and turns the phone in emily’s direction, “baby you’re on speaker now.”

“why are you sitting on a park bench alone at night?” emily interrogates.

“because i can’t openly complain in my apartment if my roommate is there. the walls are thin.” y/n explained again, feeling her frustration building as it got darker outside.

“well get to talking because i need you safely inside within the next 30 minutes.” emily prompted turning her attention back to the road.

“my roommate is literally the worst,” y/n groaned into the phone, slouching against the bench. “remember the whole getting another kitten without telling me thing, and the flea infestation thing, and the her girlfriend basically living here and using everything and not contributing to anything thing…” y/n listed.

the older women answered affirmatively, waiting to hear about the craziness of their girlfriend’s roommate this time. “my friend just called to let me know that my roommate was fired for playing hookie one too many times.”

“what?!” emily was the first to react. outrage festering at the surface.

“exactly! mind you, she’s not told me anything at all. so let’s see how long it takes her to mention something to me. it’s not like i don’t have bills of my own to pay— i can’t exactly afford this place on my own. if that was the case i wouldn’t have needed a roommate. and on top of that, they’ve got people over already and i could smell the weed from the parking lot. which is literally against the lease! why can’t they just eat an edible like the rest of us. also the illegal kitty they didn’t notify the office about. oh and also also don’t even get me started on the testing positive for—“ y/n ranted, frustration turning to anger.

jj, the self-appointed calm of the relationship, cut through the ranting in a calming voice. “baby, i hear you loud and clear. but can you take a deep breath for me.” she smiled hearing the younger woman huff but follow her instructions. she let her gaze shift to emily and shook her head, “you too emily.”

as both of her girlfriends took deep breaths, jj continued, “now that we’ve all calmed down a bit, let’s think of solutions. temporary ones or permanent ones. have you talked to your roommate about anything?”

“yes, and i mean at this point i feel like im wasting my breath.”

“when is your lease up? sometimes your landlord will let you out early. with a fee of course but we can deal with that later.” emily asked.

“i still have 5 months left. and trust me i’ve read the lease front and back and it’s going to cost me an arm and a leg to get out of this thing early.”

“well as i said we’ll handle that later.” emily mumbled pointedly. y/n groaned, already gearing up to refuse their help.

“why don’t you go stay at our place?” jj suggested quickly.

“but aren’t you in arizona?” y/n asked in confusion.

“yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go stay at our apartment. does it?” jj asked in her own confusion.

“yes it does. don’t you think it’d be weird for me to be in your space while y’all are away on a case?”

“no i don’t think it’d be weird. you’ve come over loads of times before. our space is just as much your space as it is ours.” emily replied.

“i don’t know em. i only officially became your girlfriend three weeks ago. if we’re looking at the traditional relationship timeline, we’re no where near the girlfriend staying in your apartment while you’re away.” y/n rambled.

“sweetheart, if we’re measuring our relationship in the traditional relationship timeline we were off before we even began.” jj reminded with a chuckle.

“yeah love, i don’t think casually sleeping together for months is how the traditional relationship timeline starts.” emily snorts. “plus, in sleeping together for months before officially becoming a couple, you’ve spent more nights in our apartment than your own at this point.”

“okay well.” y/n said quietly in defeat.

“exactly, you know where the key is and you know the security code. i want you to go pack your essentials and then head to our place.” emily spoke, letting some authority slip into her voice.

it had the desired response. “fine.” y/n groaned in exasperation. “but only because it’s getting dark and you know i can’t argue when you get all dom mommy on me.”

both emily and jj dissolve into laughter and y/n smiled sweetly as she made her way out of the park. once the older women quieted down jj spoke up casually, “call us when you get back to the apartment. and when we get back we’ll get you your own key.”

“my own key? you can’t say that so casually when you’re in arizona chasing a serial killer.”

“why does my location matter, when i get back i’ll say it just as casually as i said it now.” jj teased.

“i’ll even clean out part of my shoe closet when we get back so you can start keeping some things at the apartment as opposed to packing a bag everytime you come over.” emily added.

“cleaning out your shoe closet? your personal shoe vault. footwear heaven. just say you’re in love with me already.” y/n replied dramatically.

“i could, but i doubt you’d accept it since we’re in arizona chasing a serial killer.” emily chuckled.

“and you’d be right.” y/n nodded, settling into the seat of her car. “i’m in the car— heading to my place and then your place for the night.”

“the week.” jj corrected.

“for the week. i’ll call you when i get there. satisfied?”

“very. and we’ll deal with your lease when we get back.” emily said definitively. no room for argument.

“now drive safe— we’ll talk later.”

“okay,” y/n drawled slowly. “thank you.”

both women smiled softly, knowing the younger woman really struggled accepting help. “anytime, baby.”

[liillyliilly]

Halo

oikawa tooru x reader words; 10249 synopsis; He'd always been in love with her, it just took her a long time to feel the same.

When Oikawa was sixteen, she was eighteen.

“I swear you have a halo, just look at the way the sun curls itself around the edges of your hair. You have a halo around you.” She sat next to Oikawa and used her hands to create an imitation of a camera or frame that focused on how the sun backlit Oikawa.

The greenery of the hill they were pausing at, resting from a walk, was vibrant. The breeze filtered through the blades of grass and made a scent of earth linger around them. A setting sun was the backdrop of their conversation, she used it to flatter him.

He was so annoyed with her when she did that, his ambition was overwhelming for those around him but it never scared her off from him.

He wonders when that would change. It was a thought that remained; when would he cross a line and she would view his hunger as repulsive instead of laudable?

Oikawa scoffs, “You may think I’m an angel, but in reality, I’m just a drop in the ocean. Nothing special. One amongst many.”

“But just being counted among those many is still special. If the ocean didn’t have millions of small drops contributing and doing their part it wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

He bites his tongue. His deflections never worked on her.

She was older than him by two years, and she was best friends with his older sister. Oikawa also claimed her as a best friend.

Despite her being the younger of the duo, she was an outstanding example of poise and maturity in contrast to his older sister who was more like him, rash and immature. Oikawa could care less for his older sister’s other friends, but he loved it when she would come around. She could turn any moment into something special and memorable for him.

The halo moment with her happened when he started high school, while she was beginning the end of her journey in high school as a third-year student. His sister had already moved out and was living with her fiance.

While it was annoying that the older Oikawa sibling had asked her to watch over him, he didn’t mind her walking him to school in the mornings and her waiting at his volleyball practices to take him back home. She would always do homework or sit outside the gym and read with her headphones on.

“Let’s keep going, your mom is making katsu curry tonight.” She brushes off some grass from her school uniform, reaching out a hand for Oikawa to take so she can pull him up from the ground. He did have a halo in her eyes.

He tugs her back down, so she’s almost in his lap, “Ten more minutes.”

He likes it when she’s close to him. He’s sixteen, but he hopes that she could see beyond that. He hopes she doesn’t make this year the year she gets a boyfriend. She’s gone on dates with younger guys before, albeit, only one year younger than her. Maybe she’d make an exception for a two-year gap.

She takes her hand back from him and shoves him playfully. “You have five minutes and then we need to go.” He nods his head, staring at the mountain range that sits nearby.

She sighed, and laid back onto the ground, hands behind her head and legs crossed over each other. Her eyes were closed and she was soaking in the way the air cooled down slowly but surely as each second passed and night overtook day.

Oikawa tilted his head, resting his temple against folded arms that were lying on his knees that he had pulled up close to his chest. He just watched her.

When he was seven, she was nine. He’d felt ill when he heard that she’d be going camping instead of coming over to his house to spend time with his sister for an entire week. Just the thought of her being gone was agonizing.

That’s why during family dinner he declares a plan.

“I’m going to ask her to run away with me. It’s the only solution.” His face is covered in food and his mouth is full of mashed potatoes.

The older sister spits out her apple juice and laughs loudly. The mom chuckles from behind her napkin. She reaches over and touches Oikawa’s arm, “Honey, she’ll be gone for a week, and then back to keep playing for the rest of the summer break.”

Oikawa drags his hand down his face and complains. “That’s too long.”

His sister perks up and starts picking a fight with him, “You just want her not to leave so you can keep staring at her when she comes over here.” She makes a kissing face and puts her hands on her cheeks.

He turns red, calling for his mom to see what his sister is doing to him. Oikawa’s mom spent most of that week counting down the days until the soothing presence of a nine-year-old girl returned from camping in the woods.

Oikawa had spiraled down to the depths of volleyball sooner rather than later.

If he wanted to be the best, then he’d need to work harder than everyone else. Hours poured into practice, studying, focusing his lens on only volleyball.

In his second year of high school, he sustained a knee injury. He bottled it in. For a sport that was meant to be so much fun, he was in agony over his incapabilities at that moment. You play a sport for fun, you enjoy something for the love of it. If that was the case then why did he feel so utterly destroyed?

It wouldn’t be a problem, but when his mom took him to the doctor, the doctor said it was a stress fracture. He’d been playing too intensively for too long and would need a few months of recovery if he wanted to play the rest of the season. The antiseptic environment struck him as unloving. Medicine never understood the reality of sports, the deep driving passion that wasn’t bound by science.

Even if he couldn’t do serves or jumps, he could still run. He could still stay up late watching games of his opponents. He could still linger around practices and work on his tosses. He broke some rules and did receiving practices as well. But he made sure to take Mondays off, he only did low-intensive workouts on Mondays, long walks, and extensive stretching.

Maybe it was his fault for being addicted to volleyball.

His mom called her over one night when he refused to respond to his mom’s requests for him to go to sleep. She was at college now, her first year. She enjoyed what she was studying, and she liked that she had freedom. There was still a sense of responsibility for Oikawa Tooru that she carried.

Her best friend was married now and had given birth to Takeru who was growing up faster than expected.

When she got the call asking if there was anything she could do or say to get Oikawa out of his funk, she drove over and told the worried mom to go to bed, and that she could handle it.

Could she handle him, could she mitigate the tension in his soul? She knew that Oikawa loved volleyball and that his injury had made him bitter. When his actions began to worry others though, she drew a line there. Nothing was worth the hurt of worrying.

She knocked on his door, but he didn’t respond. She opened the door, and saw him at his desk, pen in hand taking notes of a volleyball video. It was of him playing against a rival school, each time he saw something he didn’t like he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gritted his teeth.

She picked up his desk clock. Lightly beginning her approach to tell him to back down from his focus, “You never seem to look at the clock anymore, it’s nearly two in the morning. Tooru, you’re going to make yourself sick with all the time you spend watching those videos.” She tried to get him to look at the timekeeper in her hand. He pushed it away and she set it back on the counter.

The prodding she performed struck a cord in him.

“I can’t practice? I can’t analyze games? Do you want me to be a bad volleyball player?” Oikawa set the pen down, rubbing his eyes which felt dry and strained. The words he intended to come out as inquisitive came out accusingly instead.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. You need to incorporate more moderation into your life. This obsessive hyperfixation on the gap between your dreams and current reality is driving you to the brink.” She rubbed a hand on his shoulder, trying to lull him away from the desk and towards his bed.

There was no use in focusing so intensely on the gaps between desire and truth. She thought he would see reason. She wanted him to understand that he needed to recover more fully before diving back into volleyball. There was nothing more important to her than helping him find out that life isn’t built upon strenuous achievement to get to the end, because the goal line was always being moved. How could Oikawa expect to get anything accomplished if the footing he was gaining would keep changing?

Oikawa slinks away, pulling his chair closer to the desk, and his face closer to the screen, “It’s the dreamer and reality face-off. And I’m losing. I’m losing and you can’t see it.”

She leans over and shuts his laptop, he spins around to her with a scowl. She puts her hands on each of the arms on his chair, boxing him in with her surrounding him from all sides.

“You are losing. You’re losing yourself. Tooru, you’re losing because you aren’t taking a step back to enjoy life right now. You think you’re losing, but no one else is playing this game with you.” She moves a hand and points to his bed, “Get out of this chair and go to bed, you dumbass.”

He feels bad that she’s here instead of in her bed sleeping. Her hair was messy and riddled with tiredness, her clothes were pajamas with a jacket over the top.

She was wearing the sandals that she got during a trip his family had taken that she went along with. When she was busy splashing around in the ocean with his big sister, he sat on a towel watching the way the water made her glow from the sun’s reflection on her skin. If only he’d gotten in the water instead of playing by himself and tossing volleyballs into the air, trying to reach the sunlight from his place in the sand.

He mumbles an agreement to her request, going to his bathroom to brush his teeth while she watches from the doorframe.

Clambering into his bed, Oikawa wraps himself in his blankets and ignores the way his body tenses up at first, but slowly eases into laying down on his bed.

There wasn’t a move from her to leave his room quite yet, but she was yawning. When she made a step forward, she stumbled a little.

He leaned up and spoke, “Can you even drive?”

Swallowing, she replies, “I’ll probably just sleep in my car, I thought I wasn’t that tired when I drove over here.” Another yawn she tries to muffle is released.

Oikawa grabs a pillow that was wedged in between his bed and the wall that it was against. He moves closer to the wall, trying to make room for her.

“Just stay.” With me.

She purses her lips. He’s still a child. He may be seventeen but he’s a child and he doesn’t know what he wants, that was her thought process. She was nineteen, she had to be the realistic one, a girl who didn’t give any kind of fake chance or inclination that would reciprocate feelings.

“I’ll see you later, Tooru. Don’t cause any more problems for your mom.”

She leaves, and he’s sitting up in his bed, hands curled up in his sheets, watching her leave.

It’s almost like she’s always the one to leave, she’s the one who puts the distance that he despises. He feels reduced to a kid. Like he’s a child that needs to be coddled and watched over. Although, he supposes his behavior did warrant a need for a babysitter.

When he was fourteen, she was sixteen. Blossoming into a young woman might have gone under the radar when it was his sister, but when it was her, he couldn’t think of anything else.

How could he think of anything else when she was right there sitting on the sidewalk making chalk drawings in a tank top and shorts? Her thighs had streaks of blue over them, and the legs of her shorts had handprints from where she rubbed off the excess chalk dust.

“Oi, Tooru! Come look at this!” She waved her hand so he’d move from his place on the porch to where she was sitting on the pavement. That’s when he noticed she’d accidentally gotten chalk handprints on the sides of her chest, standing out against the black spaghetti strap tank top. After he saw the chalk marks, naturally his eyes scanned the rest of her chest.

He almost chokes on his saliva, sticking his feet onto the panels of the front porch. “I, um, I’m good right where I am actually.” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and he silently prayed that his body would relax instead of shooting hot rushing blood through his body. He leaned back into the bench, trying to sink into it.

His sister knew better than that though, “Oh really? But she really wants you.” His sister had to have been pure evil, “She wants you to come over.” The slight pause between ‘come’ and ‘over’ went unnoticed by her but Oikawa hung onto the words like monkey bars.

“No, I’m sure I’m good.” He lets out a blase whistle, trying to think of anything but her body.

She throws him a thumbs up, “Sounds good.” When she goes back to drawing, her best friend leans into her ear. The laugh Oikawa’s sister lets out shocks his focus back to the pair of them.

Her eyes were darting anywhere but him and she was using a hand to slightly cover her face, using her other hand to bring the front of her top up a little more. He could’ve passed away from mortification right then and there.

When the pair of friends finally came back into the house, and Oikawa was playing video games with Iwaizumi who had come over, his ears were burning. She leaned into the living room to see what game they were playing, giving her input on the game, “Mario Kart is the best.” Her little chuckles at the way Iwaizumi was goading Oikawa had him addicted.

She laughed when Oikawa spun out of the track from spending just a little too much time looking at her rather than the screen.

Iwaizumi had left the house after an hour or so, and Oikawa’s sister was taking her turn in the tub. She was staying the night for a sleepover, waiting in the living room. Oikawa had forgotten to clean up the controllers so his mom told him to go clean up the TV area, only to be faced with her playing on her flip phone in the center of the couch.

He tried to pivot to avoid any more embarrassing exchanges between the two of them, but she told him to freeze where he was.

“Sit down.” She patted the space next to her.

Sitting down, he attempted to leave a huge canyon width of space.

She cleared her throat, “It’s okay that you think I’m attractive. Don’t be ashamed at all, it's perfectly fine and natural. As much as your sister does tease you, don’t let it make you feel gross or anything.”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned a little. The fact that they were even having this conversation made him want to go back in time and tell his parents to never have kids.

“You’re cute.” She ruffled his hair.

He blinked a few times and felt confidence flood in. “You think I’m cute?”

“Sure, you got pretty eyes and your hair is always super soft.” She crossed her legs, still messing with his hair as he slowly reclined on the couch.

Oikawa figures he’d been teased enough for one day, so it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little flirty back. “I think you should always have your hands in my hair. Feels like heaven.”

Her laughs run around his head before settling into his heart. “I’ll see what I can do about that then.”

“Great, that way I don’t have to ask you. You can just see me and know I want you to run your hands through my soft hair by default.” He wiggled his head a little from side to side, amplifying his attempt at charisma.

She just smiled at him in response.

Repressed feelings and self-loathing were most likely why his next fit was so soon after she had first pried him away from his screen during his second year. It was now nearing the end of his second year, and his injury had mostly recovered, it would never be the same knee, but it would function close to regularly again.

Much too late at night, once again, she’s knocking on his bedroom door, and he’s watching volleyball. Her voice is scratchy from a concert she attended the day before, with some guy who liked the same music as her. Oikawa never understood why people would want to date those who had the same music tastes. Maybe it was because he didn’t care all that much for music.

Iwaizumi was a music lover, and Oikawa just listened to whatever Iwaizumi played. Oikawa liked her music though. It was usually the sad kind of piano music. Her other favorite type of music was the kind of music that screams out into the universe and declares, no, demands, a presence.

She sounded scared. “Tooru. Open the door. I can hear your counterclock ticking. I’m listening to the ticking of the clock and I can’t hear you at all.” She wonders if he had escaped out the window to make stupid and rash teenage mistakes.

He sighed deeply, hoping she would hear that. She does. Oikawa had failed to make it to Nationals yet again, he had spent too much time this year working for his team to make it.

Ushijima had gone up to him and told him that Oikawa would have a better chance at making it further if he’d joined a different school. Ushijima knew nothing. Oikawa knew he was a good player, but why did every attempt to advance become reduced to another failure? Oikawa wanted to win with his team, with Iwaizumi, Takahiro, and Matsukawa. They were his team and Oikawa wanted to provide them an opportunity unlike any other.

It was an insult that Ushijima presented. The conditional offer to conceptualize the fact that Oikawa was not enough to bring his team through the games to a victory. That he couldn’t magically make a chance for them to fight on the main stage at Nationals. Ushijima had essentially told Oikawa that Oikawa was a talentless, worthless player, and if he wanted to win then he would’ve needed to join a team that could win with or without him. Oikawa was an inconsequential factor in the game of volleyball.

At least, that was how Oikawa interpreted the discussion with Ushijima after the tournament.

He’d have to work harder, he reasoned.

The door isn’t locked, so she finally enters. It isn’t quite as late as midnight, but it’s dark outside and the shadows slink into his room through the window. The moon casts a light in the center of his room.

He’s not sure if he’s crying or not. He’s cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey.” She scrutinizes his face, she can’t determine if she sees tears or if it's just the reminiscence of fear on his face. He makes a noise of acknowledgment. She sits on the corner of his bed.

He pours out his thoughts. The conversation with Ushijima, the way he feels his team looked at him, the way he hated his knee for being a physical reminder of his lack of talent.

She puts a hand on his face, guiding him to look at her.

“Do I see tears? Or is it just that the fear dwelling within you is making an annoying appearance again?” He shakes his head and uses his hand to wipe away at his face in case there are tears. Her thumb traces the bridge of his nose.

Anyone could tell that he seemed scared. But it was a deeper worry than just scared, it was a deep-rooted fear of lacking the abilities to be a good volleyball player. The ego he held close to his lungs was shattering and leaving shards, affecting his breathing.

He knew his internal locus of control wasn’t enough. He wanted to control more than was within his ability. Oikawa wanted the world on his shoulders, but he could barely balance it with open hands.

His chest starts to heave again, and his bottom lip wavers. She tries to shush him, but he lets out a strangled sob. Pulling him into her, she runs a hand on his head, soothing him by running her hand through his hair. She just keeps saying his name, pressing light kisses to the top of his head. The front of her shirt was covered in wet spots from how he had his face in her neck.

Shakily, he brings her into his lap, wraps his arms around her, and hugs her tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses her with his whole heart, bumping their noses into each other. He kisses with too much force, but it conveys all the feelings he has. Love, pain, turmoil, affection.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He leans in again, but she puts a hand on his chest, putting space between them.

Patting his head, she tells him that she has to go back home. She thought that he just needed to get the kiss out of his system and that it didn’t mean anything.

When she pulls out of the driveway he yells into his pillow. His mom comes into his room and sees him hugging himself. Oikawa’s mom decides to leave well enough alone. She had only come to check on him again because Oikawa’s mom had asked, but it was all dependent on Oikawa and how he took what she said or did.

They never talk about the kiss in person. Oikawa thinks about it every day. It crosses her mind frequently enough to warrant a quick rant to Oikawa’s sister, replacing Oikawa with a differently named seventeen-year-old boy who used her as an emotional crutch.

In response to the rant, Oikawa’s sister had told her to let the boy off gently and to ghost him.

How could she ghost Oikawa Tooru though? Especially when he texted her and kept saying he was sorry for what he did and that all he wants is for them to be friends again.

She devours her pride and accepts his offer. They could be friends. Oikawa didn’t want just friendliness, he wanted love. He wanted her love.

When he was fifteen, she was seventeen. A third year in middle school, Oikawa had settled into the personality that he crafted. He wanted to be everything that a girl would like, charming, suave, and flippant. He wanted to be everything he thought she would like.

If it wasn’t for that annoying first-year genius, then Oikawa definitely would have had a chance to see if he could finally have a shot with her. Not necessarily ready to date her, but sensing if he at least was on a roster list for her.

She came to most of the games if she wasn’t busy with her part-time job or with schoolwork. He recalls how he had tossed her one of his backup Kitagawa Daiichi jerseys, with the captain’s mark and a shining number one on the front and back. He told her that if she was going to come to the games, she might as well show off who she was going to watch play.

She had said that the jersey would make it seem like she attended the junior high instead of her actual high school, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter. But each game that she went to, her wearing that jersey demonstrated how much it did matter to him. Beaming at her when he finally caught her eyes in the stands.

Oftentimes, Oikawa’s mom needed her to pick up Oikawa after practice since his older sister was out with her boyfriend. She didn’t mind going to Kitagawa Daiichi to pick him up since she liked the route to drive there. Covered in trees and a smooth straight road where she could go just a little over the speed limit and no cops cared enough to make her slow down.

Waiting at the entrance, she saw Oikawa cleaning up the gym. A black-haired boy had turned the corner and bumped into her.

“Ah, sorry.” He stood awkwardly like there was a ruler against his back preventing him from slouching at all.

“It’s all good!” She noticed his uniform, “You’re on this team aren’t you? What position are you?”

“I’m a setter.” Instinctively, the boy tries out a smile, it doesn’t look quite legitimate, but she dismisses the strangeness of it. He gives her his name, Kageyama Tobio. He questions her, “Who are you?”

She explains her relationship to Oikawa, being his older sister’s best friend. “Although, I’m another sister to him at this point.”

“A sister?” Kageyama makes a slightly bitter face, “You’re not blood-related though right?”

“No, no, just friends. But I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Ahh, that’s why he was talking to Iwaizumi-san about what to get you for White Day.”

Furrowing an eyebrow, she thinks out loud, “I didn’t get him anything for Valentine’s Day this year though?”

Oikawa had rushed over once he saw Kageyama with her, shoving the mop into the closet and quickly getting to them. The floor was still wet though, so when she heard a thud and a string of curses, turning her head she saw Oikawa rubbing his back with a scrunched-up face.

She waved Kageyama off, going to Oikawa and crouching down next to him.

“Tooru, I think the floor is still wet.”

“No, really?” The words are laced with sarcasm. She giggles a little before giving him a hand, he takes it and stands up, still rubbing his backside.

As they made their way to her car, an old beater car that she had made into her dream car of sorts, she asked Oikawa what he was going to do on March 14th. Checking her review mirrors, and messing with the keychains she had hanging from the mirror, she backed the car up so she could get onto the main road.

“March 14th?” Oikawa faked dumb. “Nothing is happening on March 14th.” He folds his arms and settles into his seat. He wonders what Kageyama had told her during their conversation and if that had anything to do with her questioning his White Day plans.

“Okay good, I’ll be with Ito that day, so don’t have anything in mind.”

Oikawa grimaced. Ito Yuuta went to a different school than Aoba Johsai but was still way too involved in her life for Oikawa’s liking. His sister had shown Oikawa photos of Ito and her together at various hangouts.

“Ito Yuuta? The one that smells like he drowned in a forest?”

“Is that what she said he smells like? Yes, he does smell like evergreens. However, you betcha I love the smell of trees. He’s yummy.” She didn’t realize that she had begun to discuss someone she was interested in with someone who was extremely interested in her. “And his hair? Ugh, the way he gels it has me nearly weak in the knees.”

She pulled into his driveway, waiting for Oikawa to hop out. He didn’t.

“Tooru, we’re at your house?”

“Don’t leave yet, I have something for you.” Oikawa exits the car but keeps the door open so she can’t reverse.

He tossed a small box at her, and she barely caught it in her hands. She tugged at the small white ribbon on top of the blue box. “Wait!” She looked at him, “Don’t open it yet. Open it when you get home, okay?”

After he shut her car door and went to his room, he bounced his knee and waited for a text message from her.

Inside the white box was a card of course, but also a bracelet. It was a thin chain, with several charms attached to it. She picked up the card, and on the front was a legend of sorts, describing what each charm was for.

A key represented his wish for her to always have security and safety. A book charm was to show that he thought she was super smart. Her favorite charm though was the star, because he intended for it to mean how much she shined in his eyes.

The inside contents of the card were short, just about how glad he was to have her in his life. The other drafts of the card had been continually vetoed by Iwaizumi. Stealing poetry from Shakespeare would not have gotten the right emotion across. And confessing that he thought about her all the time would’ve come off as too stalker-ish. The best option Iwaizumi said was to go with the K.I.S.S method. And the K.I.S.S methodology went as follows, ‘Keep it simple, stupid.’

(tooru, thank you for the present.)

He saw that she was typing, and another message was loading.

(it’s sweet that you thought of getting me this for white day.)

He bit at the inside of his mouth. She had sent a photo of her holding up a peace sign, her wrist had the the bracelet on display.

(love you! 💛)

He sighed, falling back onto his bed. He wondered how embarrassing it would be if anyone knew he was fifteen and still kicked his feet a little to physically convey his blend of elation and how much fondness he had for her.

He hadn’t officially given her a White Day present, because he gave her the gift on March 12th. Which he thought was probably better than any sort of White Day gift. His present was special because of his simple desire to get her something rather than the bracelet being for a yearning for her to reciprocate something like a White Day confession.

The third year of high school was supposed to be his year. He bounced back from his second-year depression, using the time off of school to hone his skills, to practice being perfect. He felt as if he was close to attaining the perfection he aimed for. He still loses out on a chance to get to the Nationals. Losing to Karasuno in a devastatingly close game.

During the game, she saw him land on his bad knee and she almost jumped out of her seat. After the game, and watching how all the third years were struggling to hold back their tears, or the way that Oikawa harshly slapped Iwaizumi’s back to get him to line up, she appreciated volleyball just a little more.

When Oikawa threw his white kneepad into a garbage bin unceremoniously, she held back any comments or questions. His kneepad being thrown away was the end of a chapter for him. His mom got after him for throwing away a perfectly good kneepad, but she just gently put a hand on Oikawa’s mom’s shoulder and made an expression to not push the kneepad incident further. It’s not until a month after that loss to Karasuno that Oikawa and her get into an argument.

At the dinner party his parents throw annually Oikawa sneaks a glass of beer and sips it outside on the balcony. People chatter inside the house, talking about how much Takeru has grown up and what a lovely couple Oikawa’s sister and her husband are.

She comes out to the balcony to escape the adults asking her about her life. Too many questions about boys, books, and her future for her to have a settled stomach. Outdoor air always calmed her stomach down.

“Tooru, being naughty are you?” She puts a finger on the rim of his red plastic cup. He turns his head away to hide his blush. She just laughs a little in response.

“Are you ready to be done with high school?” She asks. Leaning over the railing, her hands clasp onto each other. Elbows splayed out on the metal railing, and Oikawa copies her so that his elbow is touching hers.

“I think so.” He answers. Oikawa takes a drink from his cup, the starchiness coating his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll be going away after graduation. Argentina.”

He wants her to ask him to not go.

“That’s amazing! Tooru, I’m so glad that you’ve found a path to follow.” Her smile betrays the way her stomach can hardly take the news. She’s just the friend of his older sister, she’s just someone who watches out for him. Why would he, a brilliant person, ever halt his destiny for her?

“Yeah, I’ll be playing for a team that I think could be fun.”

She forces another smile.

He forces a smile back. But then he gets upset. Why should he have to pretend like everything is fine? He thinks she deserves to know how he feels.

“You know, I’d be more fun if you were there too. With me.”

“You’re funny, did you know that?” She fakes a laugh, “Me in Argentina? I hate summers here, imagine how I’d react to the weather in Argentina.”

“You’d adapt. You always do.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

He turns to her, putting the hand that wasn’t holding his drink on her hip. She tries to detach from him, but he just grips her tighter, linking a finger through her jean loop and tugging her into him closer. He loves it when she’s close to him. She relaxes into the hold he has on her.

“I want to offer you so much more than just kindness.”

Biting on her lip, it was her turn to move her face away from his stare, hiding the way her eyes kept flickering across his face and landing on his lips.

She wasn’t unaware that Oikawa felt something towards her, but she diminished his feelings as a crush that kids have on older girls. Each time they met, she realized that that wasn’t the truth. He saw her and she didn’t appreciate the way that he would look at her. He looked at her like she was his lifeline.

“I think your sister is calling for me.” Oikawa’s sister was in her old room putting her son to sleep.

Oikawa kept pulling her into him, their hips fully touching now. He ran a hand over her arm, from her elbow to her wrist. “You can’t keep avoiding me.” It’s a tone that is lightly sing-song but also carries a grittiness.

She hadn’t been around his house as frequently as of late. Using school or work as an excuse to not watch movies or let him try to teach her volleyball again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She wriggled, trying to escape him but not putting much effort into her withdrawal.

“Don’t lie.” His tone now balances on the edge of a knife, one side was a typical cheeky silly tone, and the other was an abrasively tormented tone.

“I’m not interested in you like that, Tooru.” It was a last-ditch attempt to see how far he was willing to go. How close he was going to come to ripping apart their fragile friendship. She didn’t have any sewing materials left in store to repair what was going to occur.

He swallows thickly, eyes searing into hers. “You’re being mean.” His tone had fallen over and landed flat on the tormented side.

He lets the words sting her, not softening their blow. Oikawa wonders if she’s lying or telling the truth. It was a fine line between whether he should urge the issue to finally crack her shell or if she was being honest and she was totally out of his reach.

Managing to finally break away from the way Oikawa lured her in, she went into the main kitchen that opened into the living room where everyone was making conversation. He downs the rest of his alcohol and tosses the plastic cup into the outdoor trash can.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many more drinks he steals from the kitchen, watching her talk to people and gently touch shoulders in acknowledgment and understanding.

The moment Oikawa accidentally and drunkenly breaks a vase with zinnias, primroses, and calla lilies, his parents shut down the party. His sister heads out, asking her best friend if she needs a ride home. She says that she’s good, she’ll enjoy the February blossoms on a walk home.

Oikawa’s mom asks if she’ll check on Oikawa before she leaves. She says she doesn’t know if that would be a good idea, but Oikawa’s mom begs to differ. As it turns out, when she was outside the house, talking to her best friend, Oikawa hit his hand against the concrete wall of his house. His mom had bandaged most of the scrapes, but she couldn’t do anything about the way his eyes seemed empty.

She wonders if his aversion to her right now had anything to do with his earlier confession and her adamant rejection. Or if his anger is all due to his volleyball woes. She reasons that it ultimately has to be the loss to Karasuno.

“You’re letting yourself get bothered? You’re letting this moment tick you off and you go and punch a wall?” She’s knocking harder on his door. “Get off your ass and face me.”

“Go away.”

“You’re falling down a path that I can’t save you from. Tooru, listen to me please.” He doesn’t respond. She hears the ticking of the clock in his room from where she sits outside his bedroom door, her head resting against the wood.

On the other side of the door, he’s hugging his legs on his bed, his face on top of his knees as he glares at the doorknob where the lock is turned. His stubborn, obstinate, unyielding pride prevents him from getting up and opening the door so he can cry everything out and so she can hold him. He just wants her to hold him.

This fit isn’t about volleyball anymore, it’s about them. She knows it. The way that he sealed her into his life and now that she wants to be unstitched. He feels wounded.

She investigates. “Are you ready for whatever you’ll go through throughout your life? People will probe you, instigate you, and deride you infinitely worse than what I’ve ever said to you.” People will be able to say they love you and I can’t.

He opens the door, “No one will ever hurt me more than you hurt me. You hold so much more power over me than anyone else,” He waves his hand that’s wrapped in white cloth to emphasize his point. “You make me feel like this. Like every emotion is dialed to one hundred.”

“I can’t choose how you feel. I can’t make you feel anything.” She pokes him in the chest. “You’re a child and you’re acting like it too, get over your facade and get over your surface-level crush on me. You don’t know me and don’t you ever pretend like you do.”

He raises his hand, she reacts with a flinch. He finished the motion, he was going to run his hand through his hair. His stomach drops and he realizes that she just thought he was going to slap her.

It's a whisper of, “I’d never hurt you.”

He backs into his room, wanting to disappear from the exchange. The argument ended there.

“I know, I just reacted, it’s okay.” Hearing his barely audible whimpers, she crosses the threshold of his door. A suitcase is half-filled in the corner, with clothes hanging out of the case. A book on speaking Spanish is on top of his laptop.

The silence is cut with the shuffles of their feet on his carpet and intermittent sniffles.

His chest tightens, short releases of air paired with overzealous inhales. “I miss you even when you’re around. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” She sits on his bed, and he curls into her side, rubbing his nose on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My words failed me, I’m a liar. Tooru, you know me better than my family does.”

He kisses her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hot breath is on the side of her face.

“I need you to let me go. I’m not your person.” She wishes she was, but she felt like she just wasn’t.

Oikawa can’t help the crack in his voice, “Why do you get to decide that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“To me you do, you have all my answers.”

They begin to cry at the same time.

He replicates what he remembers her doing to him so many times. Caressing her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head repeatedly. She seems so much smaller than him nowadays. He’s been six feet tall for a while now but only when she began to seem removed did he realize that he’s bigger than her.

“Tooru.”

He mutters in response. They had begun to lay in his bed, with Oikawa pulling blankets up to cover the both of them, his arm encasing her waist and keeping her close to him. His ceiling fan kept spinning overhead. He had his head on the pillow and wanted her to just release the stiffness in her body and soften into his touch.

“Tooru?” She tries to sit up, but he’s tired of that and refuses to let her go. She faces him, twisting around in the embrace. Both their heads are on pillows now, he keeps his eyes closed. “I want you to know that I do love you.”

He raises his eyebrows in wariness, unsure of where she’s taking her words.

“I love you but I can’t be what you want. I can be a sister figure, I can be a best friend, I can be someone you can talk to, but I cannot be a lover.”

Oikawa wanted to hug her tighter, but he was already leaving imprints on her waist that were sure to leave light bruises and tenderness the next day. All he can say in response is a hum.

As soon as Oikawa had fallen asleep, she left.

The dreamer and reality face-off was Oikawa’s least favorite thing. The way that he could dream all he wanted, but reality failed to match those expectations. People always say that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams, but where’s the beauty in knowing that your future is sullied because of being born in the wrong year? For being born in the wrong life this time. For being born as the person she wasn’t going to end up with.

The spring after his graduation, Oikawa was messing around with her. He had to have been. Their fight at the dinner party weighed on them, but more so on her.

She wonders if she made the right choice. Her feelings had flipped on her and she knew it. Instead of pushing him away due to her unease about the age difference, she pushed him away because she was afraid of how deeply she would fall.

All the times her friends had teased her about being a cradle-robber, or a cougar for having such a smitten boy around her, she had let those comments get to her. It was ironic, the same hyperfixation that Oikawa had for volleyball was matched in her hyperfixation on the way she was older than him and tried to always act like it too.

Oikawa decided to stay persistent. He knew that she still appreciated that quality about him. He wanted to put his ambition to good use.

He lounged without a shirt around his sister’s place when she was there to visit. He’d caught her looking at him once, or three times, and the way he could see her begin to play with her fingers, wringing them out was more than enough for him to embrace a level of confidence he hadn’t shown to her before. He was on the older end of eighteen, she was on the cusp of twenty into twenty-one.

She had been looking at pictures, trying to avoid where Oikawa took up space in the living room. It had been ten minutes since his sister had left and she hadn’t said anything to him, not even a greeting. He did not appreciate that.

If she was so insistent on being anything to him but a lover, then he would treat her like that.

Wrapping arms around her may have been the breaking point, but he committed to the final blow, “Hey best friend.” She rattled out a titter, but any move she made would result in her brushing against the bare skin of his arms, or his chest, or worst-case his stomach.

He rests his chin on her shoulder, “Oh wait, you wanted to be called sister yeah?”

She gritted her teeth, still trying to decode a breakaway moment. Oikawa’s sister was stuck in traffic from picking up some fast food. Takeru was at daycare, the husband was at work. It would be just Oikawa and her for another twenty minutes or so. She hoped he wouldn’t be so insistent to keep touching her for the entire duration until his older sister returned.

“My name works perfectly fine Oikawa.”

He turns her around, still grasping her, “Oikawa?” He tisks, sliding his hands from her back to her waist. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

Within her shoes, she kept wiggling her toes uncomfortably.

“I know your name, and you know mine,” He lowers his voice, “So use my name.”

Shaking her head she closes her eyes.

“C’mon, it’s just two syllables. Too-ru. Your turn.”

Adamantly she leaned away from where she could feel his breath, increasing the span between them.

“Sisters and brothers use each other's given names.” He tightens his hold, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her waist still. He leveraged his lack of a shirt to see how close he could get, knowing she didn’t want to touch him. She’d let him get away with slipping around her while she stayed frozen in place.

“Stop it! We are not related!” She opened her eyes and stomped her foot a little. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide.

“Good. Never wanted you as a sister anyway.” He wanted her in extremely not sisterly ways.

“Tooru quit it.”

“Why? Isn’t this what best friends do? They tease, they taunt, they play.” Oikawa grips her face, smushing it gently in his left hand. He smiles at her. His grip was so delicate but his touch was heated.

The best response had to have been dishing up what he was serving. So she slid her hand over his chest, resting on his pectoral. He could feel the vein in his neck pulsing. He drops his hold on her and takes a step back, his calf hitting the coffee table. Her step forward to him is calculated.

He wishes he was wearing his shirt now.

“We can play whatever you want Tooru.”

He stutters.

“How cute.” She pinches his cheek, then puts her hand back on his chest.

The door handle turns and she drops her hand, fixing her shirt a little from where Oikawa had grabbed at her. Oikawa doesn’t even notice her move to pick up a book and scan through the pages in the far corner of the living room.

Oikawa’s sister had bags of greasy food and she jutted out her hip, “I got the good stuff.” His sister scans the room, “Put a shirt on. Is it too hot in here? You’re red from the ears down.”

“I’m good.”

“Weirdo.” Oikawa’s sister rolls her eyes at him, “Now, let’s eat.”

Their dynamic bounced between them. Oikawa pushing and pulling in various directions, while she tried her best to stay still. He did settle down, calming his nerves.

Could say he did everything if he didn’t give one last attempt for her heart?

He’s twenty now, and she’s twenty-two. He asked if she would go on a car ride with him. She agreed. Piling snacks and drinks into her passenger side, she asked where they would be going. He sidetracks.

They end up at a beach, far along the coastline. There’s a rocky platform, but they crawl down to the sandy area, where the water laps up the seashells trying to bring them home to the cold ocean.

He postponed Argentina for two years. One month was left on his pause before going where he knew he needed to be. His club would only wait so long for him before his spot would be filled.

He sits on the large towel he brought. She’s picking through seashells, squatting by the water.

An idea runs through his head. He doesn’t let it die out. He’s just a kid after all.

He pushes her into the water with a laugh, she splashes him by lifting her cupped hands and dumping salty water over his head. He catches her by the torso, but she manages an escape and starts going further into the water, he just follows after her.

They shiver as they stand both waist-deep in the ocean. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and her teeth chatter but it doesn’t detract from the way she’s smiling.

Oikawa swims closer to her. There’s maybe an inch between them. He lays all his cards on the table when he holds her face in his hands. Goosebumps riddle the expanse of their bodies.

“Since I can’t have you in this life, I want just one more memory with you.” A shiver runs through her. Oikawa continues, “So before I leave, I need you to promise that we’ll find each other in the next life regardless of who we are?”

“We’ll find each other, in every life. Just like how we found each other in this one.” She’s quiet, but he can hear her perfectly. She’s trying to make herself seem older with her words, more mature. She grasping onto straws making it seem like she isn’t wrecked by what he’s asking.

She moves her fingers through the water, he takes his hands away from her face so he can position her hands onto his shoulders. He goes back to cupping her face. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets their bodies mold against each other.

Their clothes are soaked through, her long sleeve is getting stretched out from the waves. Sweatpants absorb the icy water and stick to their legs. His shirt is clinging to him and leaving an exact outline of his torso.

Oikawa’s a little choked up but he wants her to know what he’s thinking so he gets the words out. “Promise we’ll end up together in the next life?” He moves his head so their foreheads are touching.

“How we are right now, again?” She splays her fingers, intertwining the hair at his nape between each finger, he shudders from the contact.

“No. Like we were meant to be. Like we were made for each other. I want to find us as lovers.”

She lets the weight of her head fall into his hands and he lets out a short muted sigh of relief at how the tip of her nose hits his.

“Okay.”

His eyes flicker to her lips, she notices. He brings his head down a little, “Just once? Once where you kiss back?”

She’s softer with how she kisses than he is. She’s more experienced, but she goes slower than Oikawa expects. It’s just pecks, and he wants more. When he licks her bottom lip, it’s salty from the ocean, but he thinks she tastes perfect. He can’t help the way that he moans into the kiss or the way he grabs her thighs and makes them wrap around his hips.

It’s all in the way she’s the first one to slide her tongue into his mouth slightly.

He wants to consume each noise she makes. He hardly notices the way he runs out of breath when he starts moving from her lips to her jaw and then back to her mouth. When she backs her head away, his head keeps coming to follow hers, trailing her lips with his.

Pressing a hand right below his neck, her fingers touching his shoulderbone, she makes distance between them so she can force Oikawa to pause and get some air.

“I lied.” Oikawa’s eyes are blown out, pupils dark and filling in his irises. She purses her lips, and she goes to loosen the way her legs are around him, but he holds her where he wants her. Legs still around him. “I lied because I know I can’t wait until our next life. I need you in this life, and all the other ones.”

She goes to speak, but he keeps going. “I’ll make it work, I’ll make everything work out the way it should. I just want you to say yes. I want you to want to say yes. I need you to say yes to me because I don’t think my soul could take anything less than your entirety.”

He pauses and she opens her mouth again, Oikawa doesn’t know when to stop and the words rush out, “One more- I’ll be quick.” He steals an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue over hers.

She rolls her eyes, and Oikawa steals another peck on her lips.

“Okay, two more.” He shrugs a little, “I’m not any sort of genius, yet, but I know that I was meant to be yours. Maybe I knew it when I was seven, maybe I knew it when you shoved that stupid counterclock in my asinine face and told me to go to bed. But I know it.”

The sun officially setting made the water so much colder, so she tucked her head into his neck, “I love everything you’re saying right now but I’m freezing.”

“You love what I’m saying?”

“I’m cold Tooru. Focus please.” He lets out a sound of understanding. It’s cute how she waddles out of the water, but he realizes he’s probably doing the same side to side penguin walk.

He picks up the towel and waves it out so the sand gets off the fibers, then he wraps it around her shoulders. He’s hugging her from behind and pressing small kisses to the side of her face. Attempting to get back up to the car with him attached like a koala is difficult but not impossible.

The engine of the car is running, and he fidgets with the heater. He has a tic where he’ll mess with the amount of air blowing, then the level of heat, and then go back to the amount of air. Each knob he twists changes the temperature until he finally settles on a lull of heat.

Her head is resting against the window, getting slightly rocked by the movement of the car on the road. The towel was still wrapped around her. Oikawa had found another one in the trunk and had it wrapped around his waist, he had forgone a shirt since the heater was working just right and he didn’t want a wet t-shirt on anymore.

“I meant what I said you know.” Oikawa had one hand on the wheel and one hand on her armrest. “I’m going to make everything work out the way it needs to work out.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m yours now.” Oikawa lets his smug smile roam on his face.

“Mine? No title? Not boyfriend?”

Oikawa moves the hand from the armrest onto her thigh, “The title I’m settling for is husband or soulmate. Take your pick. I’ll propose soon, don’t worry angel.”

She tilts her head up and laughs. He rubs his thumb over her knee.

In contrast to the way his hair had a halo in the sun, she had a halo made of stars and the moon. Instead of creating an outline of her hair, the night sky embedded itself and adorned her. Rather than trying to amplify her, the moon and stars realized she naturally had a halo around her and wanted to say congratulations by shining through her rather than on her.

Although she declines the first four proposals, she accepts the one right before he leaves. Oikawa would never tell her but he was relieved that she accepted, he couldn’t handle the idea of him not being around and her getting moved in on by some other guy- despite her telling him consistently that she would turn other guys down.

The ring didn’t act like a perfect deterrent, but it made him feel secure. He liked that she wore all the stuff he got her on the same hand, his ring and his bracelet from way long ago.

Oikawa sends her a new jersey almost every month, with his signature across the front near his player number. He also sends all sorts of knick-knacks he finds in Argentina. He makes a point of calling when she’s eating lunch, and he’s about to go to bed so that she doesn’t have to stay awake to answer his calls. His mom and sister get annoyed that he spends hours talking to her but only minutes talking to them. He tells them that true love takes precedence over family.

She has to chastise him to get him to actually stay on call with his mom for longer than thirty minutes.

They fight a few times about where to live. He wins the argument and she moves to Argentina once she officially graduates college.

An apartment filled with her stuff and his stuff side by side makes him giddy. But he especially gets excited with the fact that he gets the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, and she gets the side furthest away from the bedroom door.

Sometimes he’ll stay up much too late, his back against the headboard of their bed watching volleyball videos.

“Tooru, go to bed.” She nuzzles against her pillow a little more, her back towards him as she tries to avoid the light of the laptop screen on his legs.

“One more video.” He clicks on a replay of a match that goes all the way to five sets with commentary during each timeout instead of the video cutting to the next play.

When he chuckles a little, she turns over and shuts the laptop. “Bedtime.” She makes a fake sleeping sound. Oikawa sets the laptop on his side table, turning the table light off.

She lifts her head so Oikawa can put his arm under her head. She presses a kiss to his bicep.

“What’s the clock say?”

He slings his leg over her torso and puts his other arm across her stomach.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” She clicks her tongue and he fixes his response. “It’s 23:14.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth. When she doesn’t say anything, he gives her a real kiss. Still no response and he licks the length of her jaw to her chin. She lets out a small din of disgust.

“Fine! Goodnight Tooru.”

He whines a little.

She groans. She sits up a little and leans over him, ruining the positioning she had spent minutes working on. She rests the length of her arms on either side of his head, her face right above his.

One of her hands begins to play with his hair, which begins to twirl around her fingers, softly grazing her palm. He uses his arm to force her back down so that her chest is pressed to his, he lets out a coo to express gratification when her weight is on top of him.

“I love you, my pretty boy.” She kisses his cheek, “Handsome, intelligent, angelic, slightly egotistical-” He nips her bottom lip. “I love you, goodnight, I’ll be here in the morning.”

He’s living his dream. There’s no difference between his dreams and reality now. No gaps to fight against. Only a pair of invisible halos for the rest of their lives.

[cuntdestroyer3000]

Godless

moodboard not meant to be a physical description of reader, just her vibes/clothes

western au! dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!prostitute!reader playlist part two here

My contribution to dead dove December hehehe. I love dead doves so I'm very happy to participate! @romana-after-dark

Summary: You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

word count: ~5.6k

DARK, dead dove: minors dni!! rough smut, prostitution, reader gets called a whore, sexual slavery, being bought/sold, angst, being owned and considered property, descriptions of men being violent with each other, Joel is possessive and very dominant, reader is very submissive, stockholm syndrome. dubcon, reader obeys but she doesn't have a choice. It's only gonna get darker from here mamas. Unprotected sex, STDs don’t exist in this universe, yeehaw. No use of y/n

A/N: Prepare for light old timey language. Yeehaw shit, in my heart I am a wild west man. Also I have no fucking idea what kind of money they used in the wild west so I just wrote gold coins lmao. Reader doesn't necessarily have a specific accent but she talks like an old timey western person, reader is just a girl in the world, god bless her. set in old west California LAWLESS LAND CALI WAS CRAZY BACK THEN BRUH

-

You tried to even your breathing as you hurriedly did your makeup, slapping your powder onto your face frantically. The other girls scurried around you, the collective energy was tense and you all shared a feeling of anxiety that was rising as the minutes ticked on.

The bar always went into a frenzy whenever Joel Miller and his men rode through town. You hadn’t been working here for that long but you’d already been here long enough for their visits. His men were animals, every girl dreaded it when they came to the brothel.

Joel and his men are shameless, getting drunk in the saloon and picking fights, riding through town and plundering all the folks living there, demanding "payments" in the form of money, food, jewelry, anything they could find that was worth taking. Payments that the people of your town made so that he would let them keep living there. He made it clear that we could wipe out the whole town if he wanted to, leaving you a people without anything. And that's if he left you all alive.

-

You hadn’t been living in the town that long. After your father died, you set off west with a man who you thought had loved you. Things had fallen out with him when you finally reached California, and he had left you all alone in this scary new world.

Luckily the people of the town had taken you in, but your shelter and safety came at a price. When you arrived, you had nowhere to live, no money, nothing.

The town brothel seemed like the only solution. You had a place to live, a job, a community. You made peace with having to let men defile you. Most of them were nice enough and your pimp took good care of all of you.

This world was cruel, you did what you needed to do to get by.

-

You adjusted your breasts where they sat in your low cut dress, pushed up by your corset. You fixed your hair and adjusted the garter on your stockings.

“Well at least we look nice.” A voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts.

You turned and tried to muster a smile for your friend, Anna-Leigh, who was pinning up her blonde curls.

She clocked your fear and reached out her hand to take yours. You couldn’t look at her because if you did you’d cry, and you couldn’t afford to smudge the black pigment you’d put on your eyelashes.

“I know you don’t want to, honey.” She said softly, “But we’ve gone through this before.” Her southern accent never failed to soothe you.

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

“They’re gonna do what they always do, we just gotta deal with it and then they leave.” She said firmly.

“And if they really give us trouble, Mr. Polk will put a stop to it right quick.” 

You nodded a little more confidently, remembering that your pimp, Mr. Polk kept a gun on his hip every hour of the day.

No longer able to delay the inevitable, you took a deep breath, and followed your friend and the other girls out of the vanity area and down to the saloon.

-

Walking down the stairs, you analyze the chaotic scene. You’ve managed to understand how to navigate it so as to not cause any trouble. Keep your head down, be a good girl, let them do what they want and then they leave. Your pimp paid you all extra whenever Joel's men came through. Sometimes he’d give you all new dresses, it does make you feel better but it does little to ease the aching between your legs that persists whenever he and his men visit.

You all disperse and walk among the crowd. Usually most girls will immediately go and talk a man up but now you all just stand around awkwardly, letting men approach you and take you upstairs, or just take you right down here.

You’re taken upstairs a few times by a few different men. And later on, you’re sitting in a very drunk man’s lap down in the saloon with your breasts out, smoking a cigarette. He's playing a poker game and slowly losing everything.

Your eyes scan your surroundings: men brawling, naked women bent over, their legs splayed open. The usual.

Through the clamor around you, you can feel his eyes on you.

Joel Miller.

You'd seen him before, and his cold gaze had made your skin crawl.

You knew he was dangerous and you’d heard the stories about him. You’d never talked to him, only seen him when he came by. After making his rounds through the town, he’d just sit at the bar and drink as his men ran wild. To your knowledge, he didn’t even have sex with any of the girls.

You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel his eyes on you through the thick haze of smoke. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome, weathered from the desert sun. His soft brown hair was laced with gray, just like his short scruffy beard. He looked like could've been a man that was kind, if it wasn't for the dead stare in his eyes. Meeting his eyes you could see how cold blooded he was, how merciless.

After a while, Joel instructed his men to gather everything up. The barkeep and your pimp seemed like they couldn’t wait to get rid of them, their regulars bloodied and slumped over, the bar a mess.

You were pulling the top of your dress back over your breasts when you spotted Joel speaking to your pimp, who was looking distressed. Your stomach churned. That couldn’t be good.

You were on your way up the stairs when you heard your name being called, panic flooded your system.

You turned, frozen. Your heart was pounding as the other girls ran by you.

Anna-Leigh tugged your arm, "C'mon!"

You turned and the only thing you could do was shake your head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

Your pimp, growing impatient, walked up the stairs and grabbed your elbow, dragging you down.

"I know y'don't want to." He grumbled, "But I'm not bein' given much of'a choice."

Your feet dragged on the wood as you struggled to catch your footing. Did Joel suddenly decide he wanted to fuck you? Mr. Polk yanked you over to him.

Joel's broad form towered over you as you approached. You felt small under his gaze, you'd never been this close to him before. You took in his scent of desert dirt and sweat. His broad shoulders, hulking biceps and soft stomach stretched his stained white button down. The fringe on his cowhide jacket swayed as he took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his graying curls.

You stood looking up at him, eyes wide. He looked down at you without a hint of warmth and grabbed your arm roughly, spinning you around.

You gasped at his touch and anticipated to be bent over and have your skirt hiked up. Instead he just looked at you and turned you back to face him. He made an approving grunt and nodded his head.

"Yeah." His voice was deep and gruff, "This one."

He reached into his bag on the bar and pulled out a sack that he let fall open, gold coins falling out all over the counter.

You started to feel sick.

"Give you this for her." He said casually.

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

"What?" That felt like all you could say, "N-no."

You turned to see Anna-Leigh and the other girls staring at you. Your friend looked just as terrified as you felt. Tears freed themselves from your eyes.

"God damnit girl I said go get your fucking things." Mr. Polk yelled and gave you a shake. You looked at Joel who simply nodded his head up, as if telling you to go upstairs.

You sniffled and ran up the stairs, your sobs breaking through as you graced the landing and echoing as you flung yourself into your room.

-

You hiccuped as you threw your few belongings into a suitcase, everything blurred as you cried.

You were only able to get a few items packed before you broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

You suddenly felt the arms of your friend wrapping around you as other girls gathered around you, all stroking and hugging you.

You blinked back tears and tried to speak but you couldn’t. They just held you as you all cried. There wasn’t really anything they could say to make things better anyway.

You gasped and shuddered, trying to catch your breath. Anna-Leigh took your face in her hands,

“It’s okay, baby, breathe.” She said, tears falling down her face as well. You shook your head and kept crying.

Your pimp appeared in the doorway, looking mournful as he held his hat in his hands.

“How dare you!” Anna-Leigh screamed at him from where she held you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down, “It’s either her or they take all a’you. Destroy the bar, hell maybe even the whole town.”

You cried harder, realizing that there was truly no way out of this. If you didn’t go with Joel, you’d be damning your sisters. You let out a final anguished cry before you got up shakily and continued to pack your things. You went down to the bar which was quiet, the men all watching with bated breath.

Mr. Polk escorted you down and you walked over to Joel again, whose smirk made you nauseous. You looked down at the floor as one of his men took your bag from you.

“Alright sweetheart.” Your pimp murmured, “You be good for Mr. Miller now.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

It hit you again that you were really leaving and you started sobbing again.

“No please!” You begged your pimp, “Don’t let him take me please!”

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

“I ain’t got time for this girl!” He sneered and ripped you away.

“No…” you cried as he dragged you along.

Anna-Leigh ran up and hugged you one last time. Joel let her, but made an irritated noise and squeezed you painfully when she took too long.

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

“You can do this.” She said, her voice breaking, “You’re gonna be strong.”

You hiccuped and shook your head,

“Be strong ok?” She nodded at you as Joel finally wrenched you away.

“That’s enough!” He barked, “I’ve already been mighty patient with you folks. Stop fuckin’ testing me!”

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

You could only cry harder as he dragged you outside. He picked you up and set you on his horse, untying its reigns from the post. 

“Hey!” You heard a voice call out and turned on the horse to see one of your drunken regulars, stumbling towards you,

“Thas’ my favorite whore!” He slurred, “My favorite fuckin’ whore, y’can’t-“ he hiccuped and stumbled. The people of the town shuffled out of their houses to watch the action.

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

“That’s your favorite whore, huh?” He asked, standing over him. He rolled him over with the toe of his boot.

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

Joel didn’t really know why but white hot rage shot through him. He inhaled sharply and stomped on the man’s face, hard. He heard you gasp from the back of his horse which only ignited him further.

“She’s my fuckin’ whore now!” He yelled and spat in his face.

Fueled by rage and power, he turned to his right hand with an idea.

“Get me the rope, John.”

The man writhed on the ground, moaning and clutching his face. Joel approached the back of his horse with the rope, making you shuffle back in fear.

“Relax darlin’ this ain’t for you.” He breathed and tied the end of it to the saddle. Then, he turned to the man and bent down, tying the rope around his hands above his head.

You watched in shock and heard people around you, whispering.

“Alright!” Joel said after he was done. He got up onto the horse in front of you.

“Hold on baby.” He said softly and you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his middle.

Adrenaline coursed through him at the thought of the freedom of the mountains, of riding out of this stupid town with a pretty girl on his horse and a worthless drunk at his mercy. He turned to see John, who was giving him a knowing smile, the one he always gave him before they rode.

“Let’s ride.” Joel said, his voice gravelly like the desert sand. Before you could blink, they urged their horses onward and took off at high speed. You couldn’t help but let out a little scream as you startled and grabbed at him.

Your noise of shock was substituted by the agonized screams of the man being pulled by Joel’s horse. Begging and crying just like you had earlier.

You turned and watched the town get smaller, Anna-Leigh stood at the front of the crowd and gave you a pitiful wave. You looked down and saw the bloody body of the man.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned back around, whimpering as you buried your face in Joel’s broad back.

Your tears stained his jacket as you rode away from the place that you had made your home. Towards a terrifying, shackled future.

-

As you journeyed on, you sat behind Joel on his horse, your hands clinging to his weathered leather jacket. His silence only made you more uneasy.

You feared for what the future held, gone was the stability of the brothel, the protection of your pimp. You were in a lawless land with a man who answered to no one. You’d heard the stories about Joel Miller, about the things he’d done.

You didn’t know how he’d treat a woman, if he’d be rough or gentle. Or if he’d throw you to his men. That was what you were the most afraid of.

You traveled for hours, eventually setting up camp as the sun began to set. As the air grew colder, Joel passed you a thick blanket to wrap around yourself. You sat in front of the fire with him as his men kept themselves occupied.

You brooded as you stared into the fire. You were still kind of in shock. This man had taken you away from everything, your life was gone. You didn't know if you were ever going to see your friends again.

You didn't realize, when you'd started spreading your legs for men, that this could happen. That you could be bought and sold like cattle.

You were scared for life with this godless outlaw. You didn't even know where you'd be living. Would you just sleep out in the desert like this? Would you spend the rest of your days being pounded by vicious men into the hard, dry earth?

"Want ‘sum meat?" Joel's gruff voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him apprehensively. He held out a piece of dried meat, offering it to you.

"Go on."

You slowly took it from him and took a bite like a scared wild animal. It was pretty good.

"Thank you." You said softly.

Joel looked satisfied with your response, you were both quiet for a while longer until you finally couldn't help yourself.

“Is this uh…” You spoke and he looked over to you, the fire casting sharp shadows across his handsome features.

“Is this how you normally live?” You finally asked, hoping you weren’t being disrespectful.

Joel shook his head after a moment.

“We’re travelin’ now.” He said, “but we got a place, nice and comfortable for a lady.”

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

“Thank you sir.” You wished you didn’t sound so scared, “I was just curious.”

“S’alright.” He grumbled out and began focusing on whittling a piece of wood.

-

The journey was hard but you tried your best to keep up. Joel never raised his voice at you, he didn’t really talk to you all that much in general. He hadn’t even touched you yet either. It seemed he was focused on getting everyone home.

His strength and capability drew you to him, but he still scared you.

After days of traveling, you finally reached where he and his men lived; a small grouping of cabins a mile or so away from a small village. It was just as well, since the sun was beginning to set over the horizon.

You still weren't sure what to think. Joel has been gentlemanly towards you so far. He still scared you though. His smoldering silence made you more uneasy than any unsavory man you'd ever encountered. He kept all his cards concealed, barely spoke, only when he needed to. His calm felt like that which preceded a storm, he commanded respect.

You didn't know what to expect from him.

You entered one of the larger cabins with Joel. It was nice, modest, and smelled of carpentry and tobacco. He set down his lantern on one of the wooden tables and dropped your things down with a slight groan.

His men unloaded everything, then they all nodded at each other and all left, closing the door and leaving you with Joel.

He moved purposefully, picking up wood from a corner and moving to the fireplace.

"Need to get a fire goin'." You heard his deep voice in the near darkness. The shadows thrown on his broad back made him seem even larger than he already was.

You didn't move, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him mad.

After a fire was crackling he moved towards you silently, the wood creaking under his heavy footsteps. You resisted the urge to shrink away from him.

He was so close to you now, right in front of you.

"You were a real good girl on that trip." He said, his gravelly voice soft, the sound immediately went to your cunt and you were shocked at how aroused you suddenly became. 

You weren't sure what to say, you kept your eyes down, your hands behind your back.

He held your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

"You need to keep bein' good." He said, his tone a warning, "You don't cause any fuckin' trouble, you do what I say."

You felt breathless, the feeling of his hand on your face setting you on fire.

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

He smiled softly, "Good girl." He said gently and, to your shock, leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little.

"Remember," His voice was still soft and velvety, "I own you now." He gripped the back of your neck tightly, "That means you're mine and I decide what to do with you."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. You wanted to cry. You never liked being a prostitute, but at least at the brothel you were free, not a man's property. At least, you thought you'd been.

But Joel had paid for you fair and square. You were his now.

You whimpered a little at the thought and he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back,

"Answer me when I talk to you girl." He spat.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry!" you choked out.

Seeming satisfied, he let go and patted your cheek, then moved away. It felt like you could finally breathe.

"I'm gonna get us some supper ," He said, "You stay here, make yourself at home."

With that he was gone. You stood in the single room cabin, your heart rate finally slowing down.

You looked around, the place was big enough, it felt cozy. There were some old chairs by the fire with a small handcrafted table in front of them.

The other side of the room had a big soft looking bed, then there was an area to the right with pots, pans and other things for cooking. Besides a small room off to the side with a basin of water and a cracked mirror, that was it.

It wasn't much, but it was nice. It felt normal. There were blankets everywhere. Cotton, knitted, animal hide, what have you.

It all made you feel a little better, but not by that much.

Joel came back in and gathered fixings for dinner. He had you both sit in front of the fire outside along with his other men. You all sat on logs gathered round. His men were boisterous and shameless as usual, but they only did so much as leer at you.

The food was pretty good, and you appreciated the hot meal.

When you shivered a little bit, Joel slipped off his fringe jacket and put it around your shoulders. You looked up at him and couldn't help but smile a little. How sweet, how...considerate.

He looked down at you, and smiled back. The wrinkles around his brown eyes became more pronounced, making his normally dead piercing gaze softer, kinder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

-

After dinner was done, you both returned to his cabin. He cleaned up as you got comfortable, changing into a long, off the shoulder white cotton dress that held your breasts nicely.

You settled into his bed. It smelled like wood, tobacco, whiskey, him. The blankets and pillows were soft and you tucked your legs up, opening your diary. Beginning a new entry, you didn't even know where to start. Your entries were definitely going to get more interesting.

You wrote for a while before you heard a man enter the cabin. Looking up, you saw Joel and began to stand up but he put up a hand, stopping you.

You watched him walk over to the fire, his knees creaking a little as he bent down and threw a fresh log in. 

He sighed and slumped back in one of the chairs, kicking off his boots, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

You observed him for a while, his beautiful hooked nose illuminated by the firelight, his hair looked soft, his tough expression relaxed a bit.

You finally lost interest and returned to your diary, desperately trying to explain to it how you came to be in this situation.

Joel took swigs from his flask and worked on his whittling as you wrote. He liked the peacefulness, he liked that there was a pretty girl in his bed. You had come with him so easily, been so obedient. Sure, you'd been upset initially, but he hadn’t expected you not to be.

You'd been good, so far. You followed his orders and you were thankful for all the things that he gave you.

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

-

You had already covered two pages in writing when he called your name.

You sat up quickly and set your diary on his bed, slid off and walked across the wooden floor until you were in front of him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, your heart pounding slightly.

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

The command caught you off guard and you froze for a moment.

“I-what?”

“Take off. Your dress.” He repeated flatly, “Wanna take a look at what’s mine.”

His words both made your stomach hurt and your pussy ache. It felt like your feet and hands were going numb.

You took him in, his hard stare, the yearning and darkness in his eyes. You realized you had been fooled earlier tonight by his chivalry.

You swallowed and nodded, you were used to this business. You took a deep breath and untied the top of your dress, letting the bodice fall loosely around your chest. You gathered the fabric and pulled it over your head. You weren't wearing any undergarments so as your white dress billowed to the ground, you were left completely naked for him.

You heard him make a noise of approval and he nodded, smiling.

"Knew you were a good girl."

He eyed you up and down. His gaze made goosebumps erupt on your skin, causing your nipples to harden as he examined you. He stayed in his chair, his legs spread. You could see his bulge straining against his jeans.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your cunt...maybe Joel Miller would be gentle with you?

He finally stood up. Looming over you, he ran his large, rough hands over your arms, then your stomach and finally, up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, Joel chuckled softly,

"I know baby," He rasped, "You've been waitin’ so long, been so patient."

You nodded quickly, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your complete submissiveness to him was due to his power, but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for this strong, terrifying man to take you.

"Go get on the bed for me."

"Yes sir." You said softly and he let out an almost inaudible groan. You walked over to the bed and laid on your back, immediately spreading your legs.

Joel laughed a little and shook his head as though in disbelief,

"Damn, I picked the right fuckin’ girl didn't I?"

-

He sat on the bed beside you as you lay, your pussy still on display for him, your arms on either side of your head.

Completely his, ready to be taken by him. It kind of shocked you that you had surrendered and accepted this role so quickly. But then again, you didn't have much of a choice, this was the easy way.

"Damn." He sighed as he let his eyes fall over you. He took his time touching you, slowly playing with you. You let your eyes flutter shut as you let him explore you, taking in his newest possession.

He touched you everywhere, except where you needed him most. You squirmed and whimpered, moving your hips to get his fingers anywhere near your wet cunt.

Joel quickly landed a harsh spank on your pussy and you cried out.

"Cut that shit out." He growled, "You're gonn' take what I give you and be a grateful little whore."

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

"I'm-I'm gonna be a grateful little whore."

"Thas' right."

His thick fingers dragged through your dripping cunt and you let out a moan. He drew closer to you, inhaling the dizzying scent of your arousal and spreading your slickness up to your clit.

"Joel..." You whined and rolled your hips against his fingers.

"Good girl," He said huskily, "Jus like that."

He moved his fingers faster and you moaned and arched your back. No man had ever taken his time with you in this way.

You felt the pleasure wash over you and you let your moans echo around the cabin freely. You'd learned it wasn't a bad thing to be loud, your old pimp had always told you it was good advertising.

After taking in your reaction to that, Joel shifted his focus and curiously buried two thick fingers into your cunt. You moaned and gasped at the way he stretched you, it felt fucking amazing.

"Joel!" You cried out and rocked your hips in time with his hand. Following his movements and somehow doing exactly what he wanted.

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

He pulled his fingers out of you without warning and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

Joel got on his knees on the bed, towering over you. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock.

You audibly gasped when you took in the sight of it and he laughed a little.

"What? Not expectin’ me to be this big?"

"I-no-sir I didn't-I mean-" You stuttered.

"S'alright sweetheart." He murmured, "You wanna touch me?"

You stared at his thick manhood. You had no idea how fucking big it was, you reached your hand out and wrapped it around him, your fingers just meeting each other around his girth.

Oh fuck.

You whined and pumped his length, spitting on it and letting it spread over him.

His cock was beautiful, powerful and imposing, resting rock hard and heavy between his strong thighs. His balls hung heavy, his dark hair running wild up to his round stomach.

You sighed, contentedly.

Joel smirked, his large hand resting on the side of your head, cradling you as your hand worked him.

You looked up at him submissively, your eyelashes fluttering. Joel moaned at the way you pleaded for him without even saying anything. You were like a siren. He'd known you were the one the minute he saw you down in that saloon.

He suddenly pushed you back, roughly. Making you yelp out in surprise as your head hit the soft pillows. He looked at you hungrily and grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you landed on your stomach, bouncing up off the bed a little.

He yanked your hips up so you were on your knees, grunting and breathing heavily. You moaned and arched your back, spreading yourself for him.

You felt the head of his cock swipe through your folds and your heart raced with anticipation. He took a sharp inhale before slamming into your cunt with a snarl.

"FUCK!" You cried out, not expecting the sudden burn or stretch. Even with how wet you were, his massive cock split you open.

You gasped and whined as Joel kept himself buried in your pussy, groaning as he rocked his hips, getting harder and more forceful.

You let yourself become undone by him and he started sliding out and slamming into you more, getting faster and more enthusiastic.

He grunted and breathed heavily through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. He threw his head back, using his grip on your hips to move you and fuck your pussy. The way you moaned and screamed for him only spurred him further, abusing your cunt.

He was in control. He bought you, he owned you, you were his whore. Forever.

"Oh fuck!" He groaned, gasping as those thoughts brought him even closer, along with the squeeze of your cunt.

You couldn't even speak, your face was pressed into the pillow as you cried and drooled. You'd lost track of how many times you'd come, just letting yourself be used by him at this point. You couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Joel leaned over and put a paw-like hand over the back of your head, crushing your face into the bed as he leaned over. Putting his weight on you, he used that to fuck you even harder.

Your cries were muffled and you almost couldn't breathe. Joel's thrusts became sloppier and you heard his breathing turn into desperate moaning. He finally came, thick ropes of cum shooting directly into you making you gasp and moan. The men at the brothel were never allowed to cum in you. If a girl got pregnant, she either got it taken care of or she was out.

But you were Joel's now. And Joel was the one who decided what happened to you.

He fucked his cum into you more, causing it to spurt out. Then he pulled back, you took a deep breath and relaxed onto the bed, his cock still keeping you plugged up.

"That's right baby." He murmured, "Good girl."

You let out a beautiful whine, your cunt tightening around his cock as he stroked your hair away from your face.

He sighed as he knelt over your limp form, his cock still keeping his seed in you.

You didn't move, When he finally eased out of you gently, you winced and cried out at the loss.

"I know, I know." He said softly, petting your hair.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped at your cunt, getting most of the mess cleaned up. When he decided that was good, he eased your hips down and turned you over.

You wriggled into a comfortable position, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling up at him shyly.

He smiled at you again, the same one he'd given you at dinner. His normally cold eyes looked warm and safe.

You slipped your hands up around his neck, your eyes falling down to his lips under his scruffy beard.

He ran the rough pad of his thumb over your cheekbone,

"Such a good little whore." He said softly, then he leaned down and kissed you.

His lips weren't pressed against yours for that long but it still sparked electricity through you.

He pulled away and breathed out a laugh, "Alright, let's try an' get some sleep now."

"Yes sir." You said softly.

He put out the fire and the lantern and stripped off his pants before getting under the covers with you. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his softening cock pressing against your ass.

He buried his nose in your hair, each hand covering your tits, keeping them warm.

You nuzzled into his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been held like this. You turned around and buried your face in his hairy chest. 

You had…liked that. You really liked it. You knew how wrong this all was. You knew that to him you were just a whore, his property, but…maybe you could make peace with that? Maybe Joel Miller would be a good owner.

You hated that you were even thinking that.

His large hand rested on your back, holding you close to him as your exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

-

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

This is my first Joel fic AND my first dead dove fic which I didn’t think I’d be able to write but I had sm fun writing this!! Thank you to @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark and all the girlies with their scary Joels who inspired me🖤

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

[limabean42]

𖦹 Anxiety realizing she has a crush on you 𖦹

Reader is implied to be one of the original emotions

-

• When Anxiety first saw you in headquarters she was taken aback at how much she liked you

• She had observed the rest of the emotions as well as you and even admired Joy from afar but she wasn't expecting you to look so good in person

• While introducing herself to you she was a stuttering mess. Everyone brushed it off since she was Anxiety after all, but she knew it was illogical to behave this way for no reason

• She brushed it off and continued her plan for Riley's life and we all know how that went

• After her planned failed and everything was sound again she had more time to reflect on her own feelings

• Sitting in her chair looking at you made her heart speed up so she was quick to look away

• She couldn't look away for long though, especially if you were in control of the panel. She liked seeing you in action, contributing in bettering Riley's life

• Her free time in the massage chair meant she could theorize about reasons why she could feel this way around you and no one else

• As hard as she tried to wrap her head around these feelings she just couldn't crack this case or even think of a solution

• She just liked you a lot for no reason it seemed. You looked good to her physically and mentally and it drove her nuts, not because the feeling was unwelcomed specifically but because she was a problem solver

• If she can't solve problems who was she? How could she take care of Riley? How could she be a useful emotion at all?

• Even if it had been months since she took control of headquarters and gave Riley a panic attack she still felt a little guilty and a bit useless. She didn't want to hurt anyone anymore but it seemed that was all she could do right

• Since she admired Joy so much she decided enough was enough and she needed to talk to her about this before she had a panic attack

• Once describing the feeling in her stomach and chest, Joy smirked and knew exactly what the issue was

• Joy told her that it sounded like she had a crush on you

• Anxiety felt annoyed with herself for not realizing this on her own as it seems so obvious now. How would she know though? She only got here a few months ago

• The word crush didn't terrify her but it did make her anxious

• How would her crush on you affect Riley? Would it impose on Riley's life in a negative way?

• Joy told her to calm down and not overthink it and suggested telling you for her own sanity

• She took a deep breath and decided to face the music by confessing privately

• "y/n? Hey, can I talk to you privately really quick" she smiled nervously

• You agreed and you both walked to the window to see all the islands

• She started out by looking out the window as a distraction from her nerves. She took a deep breath and turned to you

• "I think I have a crush on you" she quickly followed up by ranting, "I don't know exactly what that entails or what it means for me or you or the future or anyone else but it's definitely there and occupying a lot of thinking time so I decided to tell you before I cause more trouble for everyone like I did before. I'm really sorry if this is really sudden for you and if you don't feel the same that's fine this is just mostly for me I mean I don't know if I can even be in a relationship as an emotion plus I just got here and should probably not rush into anything but I feel better now saying all this."

• You just kinda stood there shocked waiting for her to finish ranting everything out of her system. You were happy she felt better and happy that she confessed because you felt the same

• "I like you too" you said smiling, "we don't have to rush things. I don't know how this will affect Riley either but it's worth a shot. Whenever you're ready to be together I'll be here waiting."

• Anxiety couldn't have hoped for a better response. She was so happy she squealed and walked up to hug you

• After realizing what she just did she quickly let go of you and chuckled nervously

• "Thanks for understanding. Could we possibly spend more time together? I mean when neither of us are needed at the panel?"

• You agreed excitedly, happy to be close to her finally

•After that you both walked back to her chair and sat on it together. While you chatted Anxiety glanced toward the panel to find Joy smiling and giving her a thumbs up

• Anxiety melted into the chair and smiled contently while continuing your conversation

-

Thank you for reading <3

[rileyslibrary]

“You need to.”

“Need is a strong word, soldier; I need water, food, and sleep.” He states and points at the bunny costume you’re holding. “Now, this, I don’t need to do.”

“Come on, Lt., do it for the kids!” You beg.

He looks out the window at the funfair outside. Christmas, Easter, and Halloween festivities are held yearly at the local park, and the military base is expected to contribute somehow. Things like cooking and baking for example, or helping with the construction of the rides, and assisting with the general operations, were a few of the tasks you had to undertake. Apart from the famous egg hunt, the community has organized a variety of other activities this year, including egg and spoon races, potato sack races, and pony rides.

“Why don’t you put it on then if you care so much about the kids?”

“I’m on face-painting duty.”

“Why can’t I do the face-painting?” He asks, pointing at his black-painted, camouflaged eyes.

“We talked about this, Lt.,” you say and extend the costume to him, “you were the chosen one.”

The phrase ‘the chosen one’ was an exaggerated one but, in some ways, accurate. A few days before such events, the base held a raffle to determine who would perform as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. This year’s ‘lucky’ winner happened to be Ghost. You never did that for Halloween though, since there wasn’t an official ‘mascot’ apart from the pumpkins, and according to the Captain, “you were all monsters anyway.”

“I bet Soap planned all this,” he snaps, pointing to the fair outside, “I bet he rigged the raffle and wrote my name on every single ticket: Riley, Riley, Riley, Ri-”

He stops upon hearing your long sigh. “Soap would never do something like that,” you shake your head.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, peering out the window again. “Where is he anyway?”

“He’s helping the kids at the shooting gallery,” you admit and quickly regret it.

“I’d be great at teaching kids how to aim!” he yells, raising both hands, “why does he get to do that?”

“You’d be the star of the show, Ghost!” you encourage him as you wiggle the suit. “The Easter Bunny!”

“I don’t want to be a star, soldier,” he snaps, shooing the costume away, “plus, I hate dressing up.”

“Um, Lt., sir?”

“Hm?”

“You’re wearing a mask with a skull on.” You murmur, raising your brows.

“That’s for a different reason, and you know it.” He stiffens and narrows his eyes at you.

You must come up with a solution quickly. There’s no way to persuade an grown ass man, especially a frightening one like Ghost, to dress up in a fluffy costume and cosplay as an imaginary character if he doesn’t want to.

“You can’t go outside with that cover of yours, especially on Easter,” you explain. “Now, this, on the other hand, comes with a full mask on...” You say and lift the bunny costume by the shoulders.

He groans and rolls his eyes. That’s his way of contemplating the idea.

You shrug and look at the costume. “I’d consider it a deal, to be honest.”

He looks at the costume, then back at you, takes the costume from your hands without saying a word, and goes to the toilet to get changed.

A short while later, he returns, this time in the form of a 6.5-foot-tall, fluffy, white bunny with pink ears. His hands—or rather, his paws—are hidden in the costume’s pockets, and he diverts his masked face away from you.

You swallow your laughter and nod vigorously in response.

“So, what do I do now?” he asks defensively. 

“Just act like the Easter Bunny.”

His ears and whiskers wiggle as he turns to face you. “How does the Easter Bunny act, soldier?”

That’s an excellent question. See, the Easter Bunny is cheerful and quite energetic. Ghost, on the other hand... well, let’s just say he’s doing a pretty good job on Halloween at the House of Horrors.

“J-just wave at the kids, Lt.,”  you shrug and hand him a basket full of Cadbury creme eggs, “and blow the occasional kiss.”

“Like this?” he asks naively and pats the mask’s buck teeth with his paw.

“Yes sir,” you reply, looking down at the floor to hide your smile, “exactly like this.”

[midnightfantasiez]

Pineapple Slice | Octoberfest Day 4

➺ Pairing - one-night stand!Changmin x fem!reader

➺ Drink - Mimosa with a shot of vodka (aka one-night stand!au x public sex)

➺ Summary - All you wanted was to just drink the night away and forget about all of your problems, but what if someone offers you something much better than alcohol? Would you be able to reject the offer?

➺ Word Count - 1,881

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is pretty much drunk, messy makeouts, petnames (sweetheart, baby), dirty talk, hickeys, blowjob, cum tasting, public sex (which is also kinda rough-ish), unprotected p in v, hair pulling, reader digs her nails into Changmin's back 🫣

➺ Author’s note - hehe it's my turn for my contribution to our octoberfest collab!! surprise surprise this is written for my lovely @sungbeam / @beamtori happiest birthday 妹 i love you to the moon and back 😚❤️ this is also inspired by baekhyun's song so i highly suggest listening to it while reading this 🤭 (also hi hello @kyaroscuro 😙)

��� Taglist - @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @snowflakewhispers @h0mebody-heaven @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle (join my permanent taglist here!)

➺ OctoberFest Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The sounds of the blaring music coming out from the speakers of the club were now beginning to annoy the fuck out of you instead of making you go high a couple of hours prior.

It has been a pretty rough week at work, and you needed a change of environment after being glued to your computer screen from 8 a.m. to 6 a.m. throughout the week. So you figured it wouldn’t hurt to visit a newly opened club just a few blocks from your apartment. 

Seoul was a bustling city, after all, so it’s without a doubt that the nightlife here is pretty wild and can last till sunrise the next day. It wasn’t something you were particularly fond of at the beginning since you grew up by the beach, but you figured that you had to accept it if you wanted to survive in the big city. 

Naturally, the club slowly became a place of comfort for you every once in a while after your co-workers introduced you to the party scene. You used to be terrified of even entering such places, but over time, you have loosened up and enjoyed the feeling of getting high once in a while—especially after a hectic week at work. 

Instead of calling your regulars up for company, you challenged yourself by going to the club alone. As much as you love your friends, there are also times when you rather enjoy your little alone time by yourself and take in everything that has happened throughout the week.

So off you went as you grabbed one of your jackets hanging by the doorstep, and you quickly made your way into the club by showing your ID. It was one of the largest ones you’ve been to, and it would’ve been a lie to say that you were slightly overwhelmed being in such places all alone.

Thinking of the best solution to calm your nerves, you head straight for the bar—order a cup of mimosa with a splash of vodka and almost chugging it down with a single gulp. Once the alcohol hit your systems, you knew that there was no turning back before you started ordering a couple more drinks to last throughout the night. 

Before you finally came to your senses, the bartender had to step in to stop you in your tracks—worrying that the amount of alcohol in your system would eventually bring out the opposite effect that you were planning to have. Frustrated, you snatched the bottle of vodka in his hand before slamming down a massive chunk of dollar bills onto the counter before you decided that it was good to get some fresh air at this point. 

Eventually, you didn’t end up too far from the club, where you spotted a dimly lit alleyway where you could lean back against the wall and drink to your heart's content. You couldn’t care less if people were passing by and were giving you looks—you just needed some time alone. 

Right before you were about to hit the halfway mark of drinking the vodka, a hand suddenly extended out from the side and grabbed your wrist—the figure slowly moving up close to you so that the one sole light source in the alleyway shone upon their faces, revealing a seemingly rather tall and good looking man. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s wise for you to finish that entire bottle like that. You’re going to have a horrible hangover after this,” he spoke firmly, his hand now wrapping over the bottle to try to take it away from your hands.

“Who are you, and why do you care? Leave me the hell alone! I can do whatever I want~” You slurred, slowly getting all worked up as the alcohol was taking control of your consciousness. 

But it seemed as if the man wasn’t going to give up easily, and he yanked the bottle away from your hands and placed it far up above his head, causing you to jump up and down, trying to reach for your liquor. 

“Stop it! Give it back to me!” You argued as you continued jumping before you realised that you accidentally stepped on the male’s shoe before falling straight into his embrace—his other free hand now wrapping around your waist. 

Your legs immediately go numb when you whiff the perfume he is wearing—a hint of vanilla with a mix of peony, which also happens to be one of your favourites. Unbeknownst to you, you slowly buried your face in the crook of his neck, your heavy breathing hitting the surface of his skin. 

The male was slightly taken aback by that sight, but he finally reassured you by caressing your hair a little bit before trying to pull you away so that he could talk to you face to face. “Let me escort you home, hmm? You’re better at crashing straight down onto the bed in your current state.” 

However, you refused to budge. “No~ I still can drink! I wanna drink!” 

The male shook his head for a while, seemingly trying to come up with something that could help distract you for a bit before he felt something on his pants. 

Or rather, his dick. 

The moment he looked down, your hands were slowly caressing his bulge as you looked at him full of lust. It was definitely the alcohol that made you feel this way, not to mention that invigorating scent of his that just made you want to have him. 

In the blink of an eye, you dove right in and crash your lips against his, moving your tongue around messily. The moment you felt his lips against yours, you knew you would not return home anytime soon. There was this pineapple scent on his lips—possibly from the liquor he had before crashing into you, or it was some sort of flavoured lip balm he had put on for the night.

Either way, it made you crave more, and you began to move your lips around messily before the male overpowered you by refuting back the same action. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart.” 

Without warning, he immediately pushed you to the walls of the alleyway before kissing you feverishly. He quickly pulled your collar down to expose that little part of your skin before he moved down to lick your sensitive spot. The moans slowly filled the alleyway and eventually the quiet night, and you did the same by unzipping his pants to dive your hands into his pants to feel him raw. 

“You like what you feel, baby? Do you wanna taste it?” The male smirked in between his kisses.

“Y-Yes, p-please I want it so bad, umm-”

“Ji Changmin, but just call me Changmin will do sweetheart,” he huffed before taking in a deep breath to continue unbuttoning your shirt to reveal your bra. 

As the tension in the air grew, you immediately bent down to pull out his full length before shoving it all into your throat. It hurt a little when you felt his cock tugging at the back of your throat, but the taste of it was what kept you going. 

His precum that was oozing out slightly from his tip tasted exactly like pineapples, just like the one on his lips that you had kissed earlier. And god, this was so much better than the vodka you were chugging down minutes ago. 

“It tastes good, doesn’t it? Much better than all of the alcohol you had consumed for the night, huh?” Changmin groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair to push your head deeper, making sure you wouldn’t put any of his liquids to waste.

“Mhm-mhm…” You responded to his comment as you tried to keep your mouth as wide open as you possibly could—god, you wished you could suck on this delicious cock all day long. 

With a few more jerks, you were beginning to feel more of his cum oozing out before you knew that he was close. So you decided to quicken the pace before he eventually gave in to release everything into your mouth, and you made sure to swallow every single drop of them before standing back up to wipe the excess off your lips. 

“God…you taste so sweet, Changmin…W-What’s your secret?” You asked while catching your breath.

“Would you like to find out?” He asked with a sly smile on his face before pinning you against the wall once more to lift one of your legs and pull your underwear aside to rub his dripping cock at your entrance. “Tell me how good I taste, baby. Give it to me one more time.” 

You rolled your eyes back the moment he pushed his whole length inside of you, tearing your tight walls apart. As he slowly quickened up the pace, you slammed one of your hands up against the wall as you wrapped your fingers around the concrete—the adrenaline rushing through your veins with the stimulation you were feeling with the alcohol and having sex with him at the same time.

“God! You’re so fucking good, Changmin!” You screamed as every push he made just made you crave more—the pain was now the least of your worries as you both went on for minutes. 

“You want it deeper? Do you think you can handle all of it?” He challenged with a smirk on his face.

“Y-Yes! Give it all to me!” 

“You like how sweet I taste, sweetheart?”

“Very! Ugh, harder. Harder! Changmin!” 

God, what a mess you’ve been for tonight. 

But this sight of you was a blessing to his eyes, and he was going to make sure you remember every inch of his cock and how it feels throughout your thick, sensitive walls. Most importantly, he was going to ensure that you were going to remember his taste forever.

“Hngh- I’m gonna cum, baby-” Changmin groans.

“Cum all of it for me, do it inside-” You pleaded as you placed your other hand onto his shoulders—your fingers digging deep into his skin. 

With a simple scoff that came out from his mouth, Changmin did a few more hard and deep thrusts before ejecting all of his warm, sweet liquid into you, having the excess ones drip down onto the floor as you both moaned out loud together at the same time. 

When you came down from your high, Changmin leaned in to give you a soft, gentle peck on the lips before he moved some strands of your hair that had fallen onto your face throughout that tremendous workout you both had. “So, do you still want your vodka, sweetheart?”

“Not anymore, now that I’ve tried something better,” you replied breathlessly as you rested one of your fingers on his chest, drawing circles to tease him for a bit. 

“Something tells me you want to stay, and you haven’t got enough of the sweet juices out of me, huh?” He chuckled. 

You simply just give him a teasing smile before you turn your back against him and bend down to rest against the walls as your hand reaches behind for his dripping cock to adjust it to your entrance once more.

“It’s all your fault that I got lost in your sweetness, Ji Changmin.” 

[jupitersswiftie]

THE ALCHEMY - PROLOGUE

prohero! deku x popstar! reader

(slight prohero! kiribaku x reader)

How many times could she pace her dorm room? How deep could her finger nails dig into her skin? Was she even allowed to cry at such a situation?

Y/n L/n found herself in the predicament of a lifetime. One that many daydreamed of. Her stress levels were, safe to say, off the charts. Her mind was racing, still in heavy disbelief that this was reality. The tension in her room was thick. Everyone could feel it.

“I, just, I. .I don’t know what to do, you guys!” Y/n worried aloud to her friend group, her voice more exasperated with each syllable.

Katsuki Bakugo was visibly growing agitated as he watched his girlfriend fret over something with such an obvious solution. Eijiro Kirishima watched his friend with worried eyes, hating to see her so upset. Denki Kaminari and Mina Ashido simply appeared bored as they knew precisely what she was to do. Hanta Sero was slightly confused as he had arrived late to the emergency bakusquad meeting in Y/n’s dorm room.

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Sero piped up, taking a cautious seat on Y/n’s lavender couch next to Kirishima.

Denki swiped on his phone, his expression and tone as monotone as ever. “She got a record deal and she’s debating whether she should drop out of the hero course and take it or whether she should stay and be a hero.”

Sero’s eyes widened with excitement before he turned to Y/n’s distressed state and scoffed, “Easy, take the deal.”

To Y/n’s close friends and family, this was a ridiculous ultimatum Y/n was giving herself. Even in the top hero school, Y/n lived and breathed for music. She would play guitar until her fingers bled and piano until her fingers cramped so heavily it was difficult to write the next day. She would abruptly leave conversations to take a quick voice note on her phone as she had just gotten a lyric or melody that she simply couldn’t forget. She had a whole mini studio in her room a lot like Jiro and Denki. She would stay up at night with them collaborating more times than they all care to admit.

While she was a good student, she evidently prioritized her artistry over her coursework and hero work. Yet, what beat her passion for music was the fact that her work was actually good. Class 1-A could not get enough of her music. They all eagerly awaited her melodies. Even the most monotone of the bunch enjoyed her work. Some even connected to her words on a deep level.

To her friends and family her purpose in life was painfully obvious. She was made for music.

Yet, Y/n was clearly second guessing herself.

Being at UA was an honor and a privilege to say the least. She decided to enter the hero course because she wanted to help people. She wanted to make a difference. She came from a long line of heroes and the impact that they made on the world was astonishing. She wanted to contribute in some way. She couldn’t leave people astray all because she had a silly dream.

She took a deep breath, hoping to communicate her viewpoint. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple!” She dragged her hand through her hair. “Yes, I absolutely love music and, yes, I would absolutely internally regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t take the deal. But, people would kill to have my spot here at UA right now. We only have a year left before we graduate and I don’t want to be selfish. Why would I spend my life writing words and melodies when I could be saving people?!”

Her final sentence was Bakugo’s final straw. He stood up from her bed and grabbed her face gently but firmly. “Now, you’re gonna listen to me, Y/n. Cut the shit. You know what you fuckin’ need to do. You’re not being selfish or whatever the hell you think that you are being by taking this deal. People don’t just need physical saving. They need it emotionally too . Your music will impact people in ways you’re being too damn closed minded to dream of. So take the fuckin deal and see what the school can accommodate. Got it?”

The silence in the room was loud. The bakusquad simply stared at the couple as Y/n peered up at her boyfriend, looking directly into his fiery, ruby eyes. They screamed confidence. Confidence in her.

She gently placed her hands atop of his and she mumbled in soft agreement, “Okay.”

An almost unnoticeable smile formed on Bakugo’s lips. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. You hear me?” He whispered gently gazing into her glossy eyes. He pressed a firm, reassuring kiss to her lips before pulling her right up against him in a tight hug.

The moment between the couple was a rare but sweet sight for the bakusquad as they weren’t usually too keen on pda. They would hold hands at times and occasionally snuggle up on the couch with one another. Denki even caught a few chaste kisses every now and then. Yet, they had never seen a moment so intimate shared between the two.

To Y/n, as Bakugo held her in his arms, the background faded. She knew that everything was going to be okay. She knew that she was making the right decision. As long as she had him, everything would always be okay.

While they were wrapped up in one another and the sweet moment of victory, they failed to notice was Kirishima’s angsty but loving gaze upon them. His stomach swirled with mixed, bittersweet emotion. Oh, how he loved them both so dearly. He longed to be a part of them. To share in this moment. To hold them close, pepper kisses across both of their faces, and celebrate Y/n’s much deserved success.

But, he knew that it would never be possible.

Not in this life.

When it was time for everyone to leave, he left the couple behind with much hesitation. What if he ran back in there? What if he told them everything? Then where would they stand?

He ultimately brushed the temptation off. Just as he always did. He walked slowly back to his dorm, his heart ached with each beat. He silently hoped that if he walked slow enough Y/n’s door would open and he would hear them call for him. They would invite him to join their celebration. But that moment never came. Instead, he heard their private laughter as he turned the corner towards his room.

He couldn’t help the tear that fell down his cheek. He wiped it quickly thinking to himself, ‘How unmanly.’

Months passed and much had changed. Y/n L/n was a quick rising new star that the world could not get enough of. UA had surprisingly been extremely accommodating to her situation. Denki and Mina theorized that it was because Principal Nezu and All Might were quite huge (but closeted) fans of her work and longed to see her graduate from their institution. They provided her with portable academic work for when she was on the road and only required that she keep her hero license up to date while she attended UA. She could pop in and out of in person schooling as she needed.

When Y/n was gone, Bakugo found himself mostly at Kirishima’s side. They were best friends after all. They spared, played video games, and had developed the more recent habit of deep late night chats. These chats were a dangerous game. They both knew it. Kirishima cautiously danced around the fact that he was actively in love with him and his girlfriend. While Bakugo internally wrestled with the fact that he was indeed developing feelings for his shark toothed best friend. All while he was dating the woman of his dreams.

How messed up could he be?

The amount of times that the truth had nearly came out was frightening. Oh, how they knew they were playing with fire. But fire is comforting if you don’t get too close. Right?

[ethereange]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

reluctance sparks something genuine; satoru is threatened to be kicked off his team, so he turns to you.

contains: college!au, satoru gojo x reader, satoru is like a popular jock, reader kinda dates around, college is american-based, but theres some japanese social influence, satoru plays basketball bc yes, texting (but not like a normal smau format idk ull see)

wc - 1.4k

part 1 // part 2 // part 3?

"i've done all i can do for you, but there are no exceptions. not even you, gojo."

satoru leaned back into the cushions of his chair, relaxing his arms as they folded comfortably across his chest. his stare never once broke from the eyes behind rectangular sunglasses. if anyone walked into the office, they would think he was oddly casual despite his situation.

and that would be the truth. the golden plaque gleaming on the wall from last year’s championship spoke for his contributions. satoru was not one to be intimidated when he knew his worth. he knew he was the exception.

"you're aware that you should've been on suspension from any games and practices up until now?"

"yeah? why was i not, yaga?" satoru quizzed back.

"coach yaga," he corrected. "because i've been doing all i can to keep your ass on the court. just because you can ball doesn’t mean you always deserve to. if your grade drops any lower, you're done."

that was a new one.

regardless of the past four times satoru was called into this very room with the same threat of "raise your grades or else", he hasn't toed this close to the line yet.

"whadd'ya mean i'm done? they're not just gonna-"

yaga sighed. "you'll be kicked off the team, and your scholarship will be revoked."

satoru stood up straight.

"as of now, you'll be on suspension. no training, games, nothing," coach stated. "you can..."

"...only help yourself now, is what he said," satoru scoffed. he was currently splayed across his shared couch, half-empty soda can in hand as he ran down the whole situation. "what the hell'm i supposed to do?"

"maybe you should look for a tutor again," shoko suggested, perched on the windowsill as she let her cigarette smoke flow out.

satoru sighed dramatically. "i'm not gonna pay some random. last time i tried they treated it like a date and never even looked at my books." he grimaced at the memory.

"do you even know anyone smart?" suguru poked, earning an eye roll from the other.

"of course i do," he replied, "a bunch of our teammates can handle themselves. they're just… busy with the practices i should be going to. is there any chance you guys could help at all?"

suguru and shoko shared a look. "honestly, i'm not much better off than you are. i still have training, and even though yaga’s not on my ass as much as yours, i’m not sure if i’ll be much help."

satoru turned to the brunette with a pleading expression- to which she let out a short, airy laugh. “you should know i cheated on almost all my exams. plus they’re mostly for pre-med.”

he deflated, lip jutting out in a pout as he stared dejectedly at the ceiling. he wracked his brain for a solution, for someone who was both smarter and had enough time to help him. but for someone as well-known as satoru, his social circle was mostly limited to his team and the other two in the room. college basketball did not leave much time for socializing.

"sorry to break it off, but i agreed to give yuji a ride to practice, and he's all the way at the dorms," suguru cut the silence as he rose to his feet.

"he doesn't have a car?" satoru queried. he would rather have his friends here to brainstorm answers to his problem.

suguru chuckled, "no, he doesn't have a license either. told me he's failed his test twice already."

satoru let out a little snort at that; he could vividly picture the freshman swerving a car recklessly. "alright, i'll let you go i guess," he responded. "you still gotta help me later, though."

"i think i'll head out, too," shoko announced, putting out the rest of her cig.

"you too?" satoru groaned.

she nodded. "i've got to meet up with my friend downtown."

"any chance they're smart? or know anyone smart? do i know them?" he questioned, a hopeful tilt in his voice.

she stared off in thought, letting out a huff before answering. "she's pretty smart. not like a nerd, but she's better than me," she paused. "her schedule's a bit... unpredictable, though. i think you've met her a couple times... probably at nobara's party."

satoru perked up. "that's good enough for me."

you sipped your drink as your phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the table. you felt your heart jump a little at the implication of the sound, picking up your device to check the notification.

but your spirits sagged a little when it was, in fact, not who you wanted it to be. instead, it was an unknown number, asking if it was you.

your eyebrows quirked, intrigued. shoko had left just previously to use the restroom, leaving you alone temporarily at the cafe table. you typed back a response.

you yes, this is her who is this?

XXX-XXX-XXXX gojo satoru

you blinked in surprise. gojo satoru? the newest basketball phenom, the one who girls and guys alike swooned over? yeah, there was no way he was texting you. you're not even sure if you've had a proper conversation with him before. maybe shoko had been gone for too long and decided to play with you.

you very funny who is this actually? and how'd you get my number?

XXX-XXX-XXXX wdym shoko gave me ur number

okay, now it was obvious. you were about to march over to the bathroom to confront your friend when she plopped down in her seat across from you.

"funny, shoko. i know it's you, though. when did you get a second number?" you asked.

she gave you a quizzical stare. "what the hell are you talking about?"

you rolled your eyes and faced your screen at her. she furrowed her eyebrows, before they relaxed as she laughed, "nope, that's satoru."

"you're joking," you gaped. "why would he text me? and why did you give him my number?" she shrugged and turned your phone back to you.

XXX-XXX-XXXX could u do me a favor

you sighed, giving shoko a last look before you replied.

you depends what it is, but try me

gojo satoru do you tutor

your fingers paused as confusion coursed your brain. shoko was indifferent, scrolling on her own cell and popping a french fry in her mouth.

you not really... i mean i'll help my friends out with studying but it's not like i get paid

gojo satoru ok perfect youll get paid

you you want me to tutor you?

gojo satoru yeah

you were boggled at his straight-forwardness. gojo was not known for being serious, about anything, really. maybe the exception was basketball, but even then...

you if you don't mind me asking why do you need a tutor? also why me specifically, i'm not the greatest student?

gojo satoru uhh id appreciate it if u didnt let it out the bag

you sure, i wont

gojo satoru ill get kicked off the team if i dont get grades up ur like the last person ik who can prob help

your confusion only grew more. how could he be doing so bad he was threatened his roster spot? and how were you the last person when he was ridiculously popular? you were certain people would help him for free, as long as they were in his proximity.

you as flattered as i am, i doubt that

gojo satoru yeah well its the truth so can u help me out

you flipped your phone around, sliding it over to shoko. "what do you think?" you sighed.

she scrolled over the texts. "i mean, he's my friend. and he's kinda on his last straw. and he usually doesn't text so bluntly. i'm not saying i'm pressuring you to say yes, but he does have money," she answered seriously. you laughed, and she continued, "it would really help him. maybe check it off with your boyfriend, first?"

your eyes fell to the glowing screen, staring at the upside-down messages. "it'll be fine. it's not like he texts me enough to care about it anyway," you admitted, slumping back in your chair. she scooted the phone back to you.

you sure, why not unfortunately i can't let the team lose their previous freshman of the year

gojo satoru thats an accomplishment btw but thank u this means a lot

you ofc, its not a huge deal to me

you sighed. not exactly how you planned this outing with shoko to end up. but maybe tutoring could help you with your own studying while you review topics with him. with gojo satoru.

gojo satoru so ru free tmrw

[aoxizu]

i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

[underwaterbanshee]

I'm just going to say it.

I love how unbalanced the first half of the final battle turned out to be simply because it highlights how important a tool failure is to becoming a full person able to contribute meaningfully to the team.

The Rat Grinders have level twenty abilities but no practical experience using them because they haven't failed in any of their adventuring. Jace or Porter has taken the danger away from the onset of every encounter and just given them the experience and so they don't know how to work the battlefield.

It isn't even about the number of times the Bad Kids have died and come back or tripped over their own feet. Fabian and Fig both got separated from group and had really bad things happen to them during Sophomore Year that resulted in encounters where they were out of spells, abilities, strength, you name it, and had to problem solve creatively until they could get out of really dangerous situations.

I'm not going to list the miracles of Saint Kristen Chilis Applebees because this post would just never end but her miracles were always the result of something failing and her seeking a creative solution.

Riz might not get caught swiping student files now but he was caught sneaking around Hell and compromised a Celestial Undercover Op by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Gorgug has been told he'll never be smart enough his entire life. How many times did he fail with his tech checks in Freshman and Sophomore year before he got to reroll his intelligence stat block?

Adaine, who became elven oracle at fourteen, who had panic attacks all through Freshman year until someone told her she wasn't her anxiety and had a mental illness that could be medicated.

Failure is important because it teaches us how to solve problems and to take that away from children--teenagers especially--who are in the cusp of adulthood, will have consequences.

And in a world where teenagers are the ones going on adventures and saving the world--those consequences are terrifying.

So much of this season (inside and out) has been about fair, unfair, and what exactly do children owe the world that takes advantage of them and at what point do teenagers become complicit in the harm they are perpetuating. I don't think there is a perfect, nuanced answer that will satisfy everyone.

But I do think, we need to let our teenagers fail, and that somewhere, between the Bad Kids and the Rat Grinders, there is a way to do it so the world doesn't end because Arthur Auegfort decided not to return on the second day of school.

[gardenschedule]

Quotes about the Lennon-Mccartney rivalry & John's insecurity

A long one!!

Pre-fame

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

"It was uncanny. He could play and sing in a way that none of us could, including John," Eric Griffiths recalls. "He had such confidence, he gave a performance. It was natural. We couldn't get enough of it. It was a real eye-opener." After listening to Paul play, John recalled, "I had thought to myself, 'He's as good as me.' Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen? It went through my head that I'd have to keep him in line if I let him join [the band]. But he was good, so he was worth having. He also looked like Elvis. I dug him."

Bob Spitz, The Beatles: The Biography, 2005

Mimi remained resolutely unimpressed by anything her nephew composed with his ‘little friend’. ‘John would say, “We’ve got this song, Mimi, do you want to hear it?”’ she recalled. ‘And I would say, “Certainly not… front porch, John Lennon, front porch.”’ What she overheard that clearly wasn’t ‘caterwauling’ became another way of discomfiting John. ‘[He] got very upset with me when I mentioned one night that I thought Paul was the better guitar player. That set him off, banging away on his own guitar. There was quite a bit of rivalry going on there.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

Friends looked to Paul to control the damage, but it was beyond even his know-how. When John “went off like that,” Paul usually waited for the storm to pass or humored John to keep him from turning up the heat. And unbeknownst to Paul, some considered his presence in these situations more problem than solution. “It was obvious that John had big reservations about Paul, too,” says Hague, who absorbed his friend’s harangues during their drinking binges. “Even then, there was great jealousy there. He was all too aware of Paul’s talent and wanted to be as good and grand himself. After a while, you could see it, plain as day: the subtle body language or remarks that flew between them. He wasn’t about to let someone like Paul McCartney pull his strings.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

Yesterday

Barrow describes an incident from 1965 where McCartney ran through a dress rehearsal of “Yesterday” for a live evening performance on Blackpool Night Out. “Beatles Book editor Johnny Dean sat in the stalls close to comperes Mike and Bernie Winters and the other three Beatles, and watched Paul in solitary rehearsal on the stage, singing the song to his own guitar accompaniment. At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment.” The nasty remark from John was said to upset Paul for several hours afterwards.

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment. He made no secret of the fact that he thought ‘Yesterday’ was a slice of sentimental rubbish, and this led to several heated exchanges between John and Paul in the privacy of the group’s dressing room after the rehearsal.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

Following Paul's rendition of 'Yesterday', a comedy link was rehearsed for when the others reappeared on stage: John clutched a plastic bouquet of flowers which came away as Paul accepted them, leaving him holding only the bottom stems. As if to further puncture any pompous formality, John announced "Thank you Ringo, that was wonderful." "The Beatles were in a terrific mood..." Sean O'Mahony wrote in his editorial (Beatles Book #26), "laughing and gagging their way through rehearsals as though they were preparing for a private Beatle People Telly Show for the fan club rather than a national networked performance to millions of viewers." However, he now remembers a charged atmosphere at Blackpool that day after Lennon sarcastically roared "Thank you, Paul, that was bloody crap!" following McCartney's debut of the song during the afternoon rehearsal. If there was any tension it was swiftly diffused as Bryce's photographs reveal the two relaxed and joking in each other's company. Paul and John rode back to London together in comfort that night in Lennon's new black Phantom V Rolls-Royce.

Looking Through You: The Beatles Book Monthly Photo Archive

Throughout the Beatles’ 1965 summer concert tour of North America, Paul avoided doing the number on stage, partly in order to avoid further unpleasant conflict with John [and partly because nobody would be able to hear it in open air stadiums full of screaming fans]. it was the danger of giving added strength to the ‘Paul is leaving’ rumour that helped to prevent ‘Yesterday’ from being released there and then as a single in the UK. As Paul knows, it could have been a smash hit at home as well as all over the world but it would have annoyed the rest of the group, and their hostility in such circumstances would have caused him a lot of personal grief which he didn’t need.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

"John came to my loft and he was all excited," Smith recalls. "He said, 'I think I finally wrote a song with as good a melody as Yesterday.' Yesterday drove him crazy. People'd say, 'Thank you for writing Yesterday, a beautiful song...' He was always civil, but it drove him nuts."Sat at Smith's piano, Lennon revealed a title - Imagine - but only a smattering of lyrics. For the rest he sang "scrambled eggs" - just as McCartney had when inspired to write Yesterday. "He played it through and asked me what I thought. 'It's beautiful.' 'But is it as good as Yesterday?' 'They're impossible to compare.' So he played it again. And again. And he said, 'You'll see, it's just as good as Yesterday."

Howard Smith (DJ), interview w/ Danny Eccleston for Mojo: The Lennon tapes. (July, 2013)

After a particularly heavy session with the lawyers (he was also fighting deportation) Lennon would flop into his music room, pick up a guitar and tear into a primal-scream version of ‘Yesterday’. Sometimes he tried a little writing of his own. Usually he just sank further into the one Beatles song he never quite got over. Friends would find him sitting in the dark, lost in Paul’s ballad.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

PAUL: [laughs; mock-indignant] No. The worst thing for John was, that he didn’t write ‘Yesterday’, I wrote ‘Yesterday’, and he used to get really quite miffed, because he’d be in New York and he’d go into a restaurant, and the pianist would go du-du-du… [sings tune of ‘Yesterday’] And he’d go, “Oh… [grumbling] It’s Paul’s.”

September 19th, 2019: On BBC Newsnight

“Once we were in a Mexican restaurant, in a back room. We’d just been to see the musical Lenny, about Lenny Bruce. In the main room John spotted this strolling guitar player, which used to be standard in Mexican restaurants. He turned to me and said, “Howard, in five minutes that guitar player is gonna come in, stand next to me and play Yesterday. And sure enough, it wasn’t even three minutes. We had hardly settled down, and the guy came in and played Yesterday, a ridiculous over-the-top version. And I said, ‘John, that really does happen to you everywhere…’ And he said: ‘Everywhere.’ It drove him nuts.”

2013 Mojo article

Well, it’s difficult to choose the favourite. It’s one of my favourites. You look at your songs and kinda look to see which of the ones you think are maybe the best constructed and stuff… I think ‘Yesterday’, if it wasn’t so successful, might be my favourite. But, you know, you get that thing when something is just so successful… people often don’t want to do ‘the big one’ that everyone wants them to do. They kind of shy away from it. So… ‘Here, There and Everywhere’ with ‘Yesterday’ as a close second.

Paul McCartney, interviewed by Scott Muni (16 October 1984).

Here are Paul and John sparring in the dressing room following the remark that John made while they were rehearsing for their Blackpool Night Out TV show in August '65. The sparring between John and Paul continued while they were getting ready for the final recording. John and Paul continue their heated discussion with George as piggy-in-the-middle. The two-handed gesture clearly reveals the mood John was in, but Ringo and Brian still refused to join in the argument. Ringo poured himself a fizzy drink before the final show but John clearly decided he needed something a bit stronger before they went into the television studio.

228 of The Beatles Book Monthly Magazine - John and Paul’s argument after the Blackpool Night Out rehearsal

We never released Yesterday' as a single because we didn't think it fitted our image. In fact it was one of our most successful songs. "Michelle' we didn't want to release as a single. They might have been perceived as Paul McCartney singles and maybe John wasn't too keen on that.

The Beatles Recording Sessions The Official Abbey Road Studio Session Notes, 1962–1970

Productivity

But I was still under the false impression that – still felt, every now and then – Brian would come up and say, “It’s time to record,” or, “It’s time to do this.” And Paul started doing that. “Now we’re gonna make a movie. Now we’re gonna make a record.” And, uh, he assumed that if he didn’t call us, nobody would ever make a record. But it’s since shown that we’ve managed quite well to make records on time. [Now] I don’t have any schedule – I just think, “Now, I’ll make it,” you know. But those days, Paul would say, well, now he felt like it, and suddenly I’d have to whip out twenty songs. He would come in with about twenty good songs and say, “We’ll record next Friday.” And I suddenly had to write a stack of songs, like – [Sgt] Pepper was like that. And Magical Mystery Tour was another one of them.

September 5th, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

SHEFF: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— JOHN: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty-five kids and about twenty million records out—how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

You’d already have 5 or 6 songs so I’d think fuck it, I cant keep up with that. So I didn’t bother, you know, and I thought I don’t really care whether I was on it or not, I convinced myself it didn’t matter. And so for a period if you didn’t invite me to be on an album personally, if you three didn’t say ‘write some more songs because we like your work’, I wasn’t going to fight. There was no point in turning em out, I didn’t have the energy to turn them out and get them on an album as well.

John Lennon, MMT sessions

“John did not let Yoko’s foot-dragging slow him down. He kept working on the album, refining songs and coming up with new ones. He joked that he was becoming more and more like Paul McCartney, whose prodigious musical output had sometimes been a source of friction in their relationship. John wondered if Yoko might be feeling intimidated by his current period of fertility, just as he had once been intimidated by Paul’s greater musical productivity. Still, John kept up the pressure on Yoko over the phone, playing her his songs and encouraging her to play hers for him.”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

“He next expressed concern that Yoko was not giving the album her undivided attention because of the many ‘distractions’ she faced in New York, and even made a snide reference to her being surrounded by ‘useless sycophants.’ He again likened their situation to his old songwriting partnership with Paul McCartney, who had always been the more prolific writer and had frequently prodded John to come up with new material. ‘Paul never stopped working,’ John said with grudging admiration. ‘We’d finish one album and I’d go off and get stoned and forget about writing new stuff, but he’d start working on new material right away, and as soon as he had enough songs he’d want to begin recording again. I would have to scramble to come up with songs of my own. I wrote some of my best songs under that kind of pressure.’”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

We only spoke briefly about Paul and his comments at the time were, 'Yeah, well, you know, that's just Paul.' I think John was deeply hurt by their differences and the fact that their partnership wasn't a partnership. He felt the competition with Paul who would come in with 15 songs and want to record them all. John told me, 'I don't want to be in, you know, "Paul & the Beatles". I don't want to be a sideman for Paul. It's not what I want to do anymore.'

David Cassidy on John from Could it be forever? -My Story

Fear of abandonment

I was sort of answering him here, asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ – meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

Paul McCartney, on “Dear Friend”. In The Lyrics (2021).

JOHN: [Paul] even recorded that all by himself in the other room, that’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d – he’d made the whole record. Him drumming, him playing the piano, him singing. Just because – it was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that, but he couldn’t – couldn’t – maybe he couldn’t make the break from The Beatles, I don’t know what it was. But you know, I enjoyed the track. But we’re all, I’m sure – I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when he’d knock something off without… involving us, you know? But that’s just the way it was then.

August, 1980: interview with Playboy writer David Sheff

He is the least independent Beatle, leaning upon the group’s strength as a source for his own fundamental security.

Profile of John written by Tony Barrow (Beatles Press Officer) and published in March of 1968.

During the spring of 1968, John was as confused, lonely, and unhappy as I'd seen him in years. Though his relationship with the other Beatles was still free of serious strain, he was seeing increasingly less of Paul and George, both of whom were now pursuing independent lives and interests of their own.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

Insecurities

If you notice, in the early days the majority of singles—in the movies and everything—were mine. And then only when I became self-conscious and inhibited, and maybe the astrology wasn’t right, did Paul start dominating the group a little too much for my liking. But in the early period, obviously, I’m dominating the group. I did practically every single with my voice except for “Love Me Do.” Either my song, or my voice, or both.

David Sheff - All We Are Saying, The Last Major Interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono

Do I want him back, Paul? … [D]o I want it back, whatever it is, enough? Then if it is, you know, I’ve had to smother my ego for you, and I’ve had to smother me jealousy for you to carry on, for whatever reasons there is.

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

I’ll tell you a story about John. He often used to wake up in the middle of the night and ask me, ‘Why do people cover Paul’s songs so much, but never mine?’ I used to tell him, ‘It’s because you are a talented songwriter. You don’t just rhyme June with spoon. And you are a very good singer – lots of people would be too afraid to cover one of your songs.’ Then I would make him a cup of tea, and he would be okay. I just miss that sort of moment that we had.

Yoko Ono, Q Magazine Awards. (October 10th, 2005)

“[John] was much misunderstood but mostly through his own fault. He put up his brick wall of sheer bravado to screen off a chronic fear of inadequacy.”

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

“Most people in Britain think I’m somebody who won the pools, you know,” he says drily, drawing on a Gauloise. “Won the pools and married a Hawaiian dancer or actress somewhere. Whereas in the States, we’re treated like artists. Which we are! Or anywhere else for that matter,” he added. “But here, it’s like, the lad who knew Paul, got a lucky break, won the pools and married the actress.”

John Lennon, Melody Maker’s Oct 2nd 1971 issue. (no wonder he was so upset by Too Many People if he internalized the concept of 'a lucky break' this much...)

It was Paul who showed John how to play chords properly, instead of banjo chords, which were all John knew. I think John was quite defensive when he realised that through much of his "career" with the Quarrymen, he had been playing two-fingered banjo chords on a guitar. The thought was tempered by the fact that nobody had noticed. John once told me, "Only that fookin' McCartney sussed me out. I love him, but he's such a good musician I could kill him."

Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours: My Life With The Beatles, 2005

INT: In this song, in the “I Found Out”, “I seen through junkies, I been through it all, I seen religion from Jesus to Paul.” Now a lot of people are wondering which Paul you were talking about? JOHN: (Chuckle) Whichever one you want to mention. I think the Beatles were a kind of religion. And that uh, Paul manifest or, sort of, I can’t think of the word you know — epitomized, the Beatles and the kind of things that–the kind of hero image more than the rest of us in a way. Like he was more popular with the kids, girls and things like that. So it’s in that way it’s Paul. But it’s also the other Paul, who screwed up whatever Jesus said, that one… It’s a double entendre you know, for all the fanatics who like to play things backwards and hear words of wisdom which nobody ever thought of…

WABC-FM New York, Howard Smith interviews John and Yoko (December 12, 1970).

JOHN: I expected… just a little more, you know. I mean, because if Paul and I are sort of disagreeing, and I feel weak, I think he must feel strong, you know. That’s in an argument. Uh, not that we’ve had much physical argument, you know – more a mental, like when we’re talking— But you would expect the opposition. So called. So I was just surprised, you know. And, uh, I was glad too. [laughs; hesitating] I thought, yeah, I – you know. I suddenly re– got it all in perspective, you know.

Rolling Stone December 8th, 1970

SCHOENBERGER: How is it for an 11-year-old boy to have John Lennon as a father? JOHN: It must be hell. SCHOENBERGER: Does he talk about that to you? JOHN: No, because he is a Beatle fan. I mean, what do you expect? I think he likes Paul better than me… I have the funny feeling he wishes Paul was his Dad. But unfortunately he got me…

John Lennon, interview w/ Francis Schoenberger. (Spring, 1975)

SHERIDAN: I guess he realised somewhere along the way, “Well, I’ve got to do something other than just be a rock ‘n’ roll musician if I want to impress the whole world.” He never saw himself as a very good singer, for instance. INTERVIEWER: Really? SHERIDAN: No. He never saw himself as comparable to Paul McCartney, even. Which, you know, he was playing with a guy, writing songs with a guy whom he thought was better than he was in many ways. So he had this immense ego and this immense sort of – it was like a motor in him that had to go to new lengths and reach new heights in order to impress someody or the whole world or whatever. I think the peace movement – maybe he invented it, I don’t know.

2003: Tony Sheridan

We all went through a depression after Maharishi and Brian died; it wasn’t really to do with Maharishi, it was just that period. I was really going through the “What’s it all about?” type thing – this songwriting is nothing, it’s pointless, and I’m no good, I’m not talented, and I’m shitty, and I couldn’t do anything but be a Beatle. What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods. I was just about coming out of it around Maharishi, even though Brian had died – that knocked us back again. Well, it knocked me back.

John Lennon, interview w/ Barry Miles, (partially) unpublished. (September 23rd, 1969)

We’d be cutting a record and he’d say, “Yeah, I remember trying to do this part in ‘Penny Lane’. I couldn’t play it and I got so pissed because Paul could always learn things so fast.”

Andy Newmark (drummer), interview w/ Rick Mattingly for Modern Drummer. (February, 1984)

When John’s first solo album Plastic Ono Band was released I went down to Tittenhurst Park several times. Sometimes, in reaction to the general dismay over the Beatles’ break up, he would ask rhetorical, and I thought slightly absurd, questions such as “Why should I work with Paul McCartney when I can work with Yoko or Frank Zappa?”, or became irritated when I happened to say “Paul has a good voice”. “He has a high voice,” John snapped back. At others, however, he would admit to an admiration for some of Paul’s songs.

Ray Connolly (journalist), Evening Standard: John... ‘performing flea’ or ‘crutch for the world’s social lepers’. (December 10th, 1970) c/o Ray Connolly, The Beatles Archive. (2011)

“His [John] moods were particularly vacillating when he talked about Paul McCartney. While he might be scornful of Paul’s romantic musical streak on one day, on another he would be insisting, ‘Paul and me were the Beatles. We wrote the songs’ – putting down, by inference, the contributions of Ringo and George. He knew how good Paul was, but he couldn’t hide a rivalry and jealous streak that nibbled away at him. ‘Paul has a good voice,’ I once commented as we were discussing singers. ‘He has a high voice,’ came his instant correction.

Ray Connolly, The Sunday Times Magazine: John Lennon, Yoko and Me. (December 9, 2018)

I was wondering whether the relationship had kind of snapped. I believe it was always there. He was very jealous and so was I and it was all stupidity on the surface.”

Paul (Record Mirror, April 1982).

Paul was the one Beatle who posed any challenge to John’s authority and preeminence within the group. Much as John might have found it easier to handle those who—like George and Ringo—seemed to take it for granted that he was the king of the castle, Paul was the only one he considered more or less his equal. John particularly admired and respected—yet at the same time slightly resented—Paul’s independence, his self-discipline, and his all-round musical facility: all qualities in which John felt relatively lacking.

Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life. (1983)

He grew even more paranoid as the acid took effect, and Derek Taylor ended up sitting by him till well after daybreak. In an attempt to rebuild John's shattered ego, he persuaded him to recount his entire life story, from early childhood onwards. Derek even went through every Lennon-McCartney song, line by line, to demonstrate to John the extraordinary scope of his contribution to the Beatles* music. By the time John and I finally left, John's spirits had been lifted considerably.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

“Bit by bit over a two-year period, I had destroyed me ego. I didn’t believe I could do anything. I just was nothing. I was shit… and she (Yoko) made me realize that I was me and that it’s all right. That was it; I started fighting again, being a loudmouth again and saying, “I can do this. Fuck it. This is what I want,” you know. “I want it, and don’t put me down.”

Rolling Stone

"John's complaint to Paul was actually an attempt to get his songs on to albums without the usual democratic vetting by the others, as the conversation between John and Paul recorded by Anthony Fawcett in September 1969 reveals. John tells Paul: If you look back on the Beatles' albums, good or bad or whatever you think of "em, you'll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it's you! For no other reason than you worked it like that. Now when we get into a studio I don't want to go through games with you to get space on the album, you know. I don't want to go through a little manoeuvering or whatever level it's on. I gave up fighting for an Aside or fighting for time. I just thought, well, I'm content to put 'Walrus" on the "B" side when I think it's much better ... I didn't have the energy or the nervous type of thing to push it, you know. So I relaxed a bit nobody else relaxed, you didn't relax in that way. So gradually I was submerging. Paul protested that he had tried to allow space on albums for John's songs, only to find that John hadn't written any. John explained, "There was no point in turning 'em out. I couldn't, didn't have the energy to turn 'em out and get 'em on as well." He then told Paul how he wanted it to be in the future: "When we get in the studio I don't care how we do it but I don't want to think about equal time. I just want it known I'm allowed to put four songs on the album, whatever happens."

Many Years from Now

Everyone settled down in their seats. Paul McCartney tried to make peace with Chris. Chris said, “Paul sat by me and said, ‘Come on, Chris, let’s be friends….’ “I said, ‘Paul, just get away from me, I don’t want nothing to do with you guys. You know, you pissed me off!” As for Lennon, Chris recalled, “John? I guess he was a wise guy. But I got the sense that, I shouldn’t say this, that he was jealous of who I was or what I did. I don’t know what his problem was, but I didn’t like it too much.”

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BRAWL BETWEEN JOHN LENNON AND CHRIS MONTEZ IN 1963! EXCLUSIVE!

Lifestyle

I introduced Yoko to John through my own interest in the avant-garde. John wasn’t avant-garde till later. Then John became wildly avant-garde because he was so fucking constricted living out in Weybridge. He’d come into London and say, ‘What’ve you been doing, man, what have you been doing?’ and I’d say, ‘What’ve you been doing?’ ‘Well, watching telly, smoking pot.’ ‘I went out last night and saw Luciano Berio at the Italian Embassy, that was quite cool. I’ve got this new Stockhausen record, check this out. We went down Robert [Fraser]’s, got this sculpture, it was great, dig this. Wow, Paolozzi, great …’ I think John actually said, ‘I’m fucking jealous of you, man’ – he just needed to get out of Weybridge. It wasn’t his wife’s fault, she just didn’t understand how free he needed to be.

Paul McCartney, c/o Jonathon Green, Days in the Life. (1988)

Living in the Asher house gave me the base and the freedom and the independence. That, alongside all the other things, because I wasn’t married to Jane. I was pretty free. I remember John very much envying me. He said, ‘Well, if you go out with another girl, what does Jane think?’ and I said, 'Well, I don’t care what she thinks, we’re not married. We’ve got a perfectly sensible relationship.’ He was well jealous of that, because at this time he couldn’t do that, he was married with Cynthia and with a lot of energy bursting to get out. He’d tried to give Cynthia the traditional thing, but you kind of knew he couldn’t. There were cracks appearing but he could only paste them over by staying at home and getting very wrecked.

Paul McCartney, Many Years from Now

In the beginning, art was what we talked about. [John] told me he thought he was like [surrealist painter René] Magritte. Why? Because, you know, you have the image of Magritte with the bowler hat and the suit, looking very square, but really his work was very surreal and far out. John was living in suburbia, and he was very embarrassed about that, because he felt as if he was not very hip. When he invited me to his house the first time, the first thing he said when I got there was, “I think of myself as Magritte.”

Yoko Ono, New York Times: An exhibition of drawings celebrates Lennon at 64. (October 7th, 2004)

“I was never in the London scene in the 60’s whereas George and Paul be going around to everybody’s sessions, playing with everybody. I never played anywhere without the Beatles. I never jammed around with people at all. Q: Loyalty, or just didn’t interest you? A: No, just shyness, insecurity, and ah, I couldn’t go in a session and play like George plays; you know I have limited vocabulary on the guitar and piano, so what could I do going in with Cream, or whatever they were doing in those days.”

John Lennon interview

The musician countered the perception of Lennon as the only artistic Beatle, asserting his own powerful avant-garde influence on Sgt. Pepper. “I’m not trying to say it was all me, but I do think John’s avant-garde period later was really to give himself a go at what he’d seen me having a go at.”

Paul Du Noyer, The Paul McCartney World Tour Booklet: 1989–1990 (New York: EMAP Metro, 1989)

Women

“Have you noticed that it’s always men with moustaches and beards who ask me for my autograph?” I said I hadn’t but that I’d watch out in future and, sure enough, it seemed he was right. Only men with moustaches and beards asked John for his autograph. “It was always the same,” he said. “Me and George got the guys with beards wanting to know the meaning of life, while Paul and Ringo got the women!” Inevitably, perhaps, a short while later a girl came to ask John for his autograph. Much to our amusement, though doubtless to her amazement, John grabbed her around the waist and sat her down on his knee. “Where are you now McCartney?” he shouted. “I’ve got a girl at last.””

Chris Charlesworth (journalist), Rock’s Backpages: Memories of John Lennon. (2001)

“I idolized John. He was the big guy in the chip shop. I was the little guy. As I matured and grew up, I started sharing in things with him. I got up to his level. I wrote songs as he did and sometimes they were as good as his. We grew to be equals. It made him insecure. He always was, really. He was insecure with women. You know, he told me when he first met Yoko not to make a play for her.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the mirror I looked dreadfully pale and drawn. I still couldn’t believe it. John would never be there again. I kept getting flashbacks to when he was young and awkward. He liked women, but was always a bit uncomfortable, a bit nervous in their company – always a man’s man. Paul was beautiful – still is – and I know John thought, ‘God, with him around, I don’t stand a chance.’ It’s one of those things young lads have to put up with. They’re all dead worried about whether or not they’re going to get the girls, and John, as a teenager, saw Paul as his rival. That made him moody, but it was his moodiness that gave the songs they wrote together an edge. When he was four, John had been abandoned by his dad, deserted by his mum and brought up by his Auntie Mimi. He’d always felt rejected, but that gave his writing depth, a darkness. Paul was the counterbalance, the light. You could see this in Paul’s eyes and the girls just tumbled in and were washed away. What John never really appreciated was that he, too, had charisma, and that women did think he was sexy.

Cilla Black, What’s It All About. (2003)

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

Paul, September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

That’s typical Paul [wanting me to stay inside the George V Hotel with the band instead of going out by myself to see Paris]. It’s just so silly of me to stay at the hotel. It’s just that he’s so insecure. For instance, he keeps saying he’s not interested in the future, but he must be because he says it so often. The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish, it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy. Of course, it’s the trouble with all boys. When I first met [the Beatles], I liked them all. Then, when I found out that I liked Paul more, the others became angry with me.

Jane Asher, c/o Michael Braun, Love Me Do!: The Beatles’ Progress. (1964)

"Q: "Now that Paul is the only bachelor Beatle, do you find that the girls gravitate more to him than they do to the rest of you fellas? How do you feel about that?" JOHN: "They always did!" RINGO: "Yeah." PAUL: "Well, the thing that we found... We found after all this business, of all the buttons that say 'I love Ringo,' "I love John,' John's were outselling everyone's." JOHN: "A rather distinctive Beatle." PAUL: "A distinctive Beatle.""

Press conference, New York, August 22, 1966

JOHN: Well, uh… [distracted] There was a lot of – [inaudible] I suppose, but I was so full of myself then, I didn’t give a shit what he did. HILBURN: Full of what? JOHN: Full of meself. Centered, in other words. So I just— HILBURN: So in a sense, you weren’t comparing as much as you might have— JOHN: [matter-of-fact] There’s no comparison for me. ‘Cause we’re— HILBURN: You mean comparing artistically, or you mean comparing sales-wise and stuff? JOHN: Oh, sales-wise, forget it. He always had more fans than me, in the Cavern… So there’s no comparison on that level. And on the other level, I don’t think it counts. I think it’s like comparing… I don’t know, Magritte and, er – Picasso, if you want to put it on that level. Or whatever. How can you compare it?

October 10th, 1980 (Hit Factory, New York)

The same popularity, meaning Paul was always more popular than the rest of us, was going down in the dance halls in Liverpool so it didn’t cause any big surprise. I mean the kids saw him, the girls would go ooh, you know, right away.

John Lennon on The Tomorrow Show – 04/08/1975

Breakup/post breakup

"There was amazing competition between us and we both thrived on it. In terms of music, you cannot beat a bit of competition. Of course, there's times when it hurts, and it's inevitably going to reach a stage where it's hard to live with. Sooner or later, it's going to burn itself out. I think that's what happened at the end of The Beatles.

Paul - Uncut, July 2004

I felt sad, you know. I also felt that film was set up by Paul, for Paul. That’s one of the main reasons the Beatles ended, you know, cause... I can’t speak for George but I pretty damn well know. We got fed up with being sidemen for Paul, after Brian died that’s what began to happen and the camera work was set up to show Paul and not to show anybody else and that’s how I felt about it. And on top of that, the people who cut it, cut it as Paul is god and we’re just lying around.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

Though thinking of Paul caused John pain, he could never get McCartney out of his head; Paul’s music was everywhere, and it always made him jealous, even the songs he enjoyed. In Bermuda, John was listening to all kinds of things on the radio, not just the Muzak and classical he listened to in New York. Coming Up, Paul’s hit single from McCartney II, was unavoidable. Every time he tuned in the BBC or one of the local stations, there it was. It began to drive John crackers; every word of the song was addressed directly to him. Ultimately, he came to admire it and draw inspiration from it.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

At that moment, John was at his most unpredictable. Suddenly his fears that his money was going to be taken away from him, that he was going to be cheated, that he had to have as much money as possible, had all come into play. This was also John’s way of resisting the reality that the Beatles were officially about to come to end, and that Paul was about to prevail.

Loving John, MAY PANG (1983)

“The funny part is that I let him get away with it for so long. You know, I used to dread it when he was in town, but I never had the sense to go out to the island or just not answer the door. He’d come striding in with a guitar under one arm and Linda under the other, asking me what was new, knowing nothing was new. Then he’d always ask if I’d heard his latest, which I usually hadn’t. The guitar was so we could sing together, but that was never going to happen. I’d just tell him that I was really busy being a father. He must have seen through that because he’s a father many times over and that certainly doesn’t tie him down. It wasn’t till I told him that I was real busy that if he wanted to see me he’d have to call first that he got the message to leave off. I have your tarot advice to thank for that.”

John Green, Dakota Days. (1983)

COSTAS: if somebody didn’t, mixed in with it all, genuinely love somebody, genuinely care about their feelings about them, they wouldn’t go to the lengths, in whatever strange way, that John did to lash back at you! They wouldn’t hold a pig on the cover to parody you holding a sheep in ‘RAM’! They wouldn’t, you know, call your stuff rubbish and write ‘How Do You Sleep’. They wouldn’t do it! PAUL: Oh, I think that’s right. I think that’s right. He was- he was very hurt, there were people turning him against me. It was his way of defending himself. He was- he was quite pissed off about the ‘McCartney bandwagon’ as he once called it, you know? [mimicking John] ‘Oh, bloody- he’s gettin’ on all the telly, he’s sellin’ records!’ Yeah, he was- he was a jealous guy! But I understood that! That was John! You love it or you leave it! And I stuck with it for many, many years!

Paul McCartney, Interviewed by Bob Costa, 1991.

It was a weird time. The people who were managing us were whispering in our ears and trying to turn us against each other and it became like a feuding family. In the end, I think John had some tough breaks. He used to say, ‘Everyone is on the McCartney bandwagon.’ He wrote ‘I’m Just A Jealous Guy’ and he said that the song was about me. So I think it was just some kind of jealousy. I had to try and forgive John because I sort of knew where he was coming from. I knew that he was trying to get rid of the Beatles in order to say to Yoko, ‘Look, I’ve even given that up for you. I’m ready to devote myself to you and to the avant-garde.’ I don’t know if it’s true. One thing I’m really glad about is that I didn’t answer him back. It’s very difficult to do that when someone is attacking you. But I would have felt sick as a dog now if I had.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Diane de Dubovay for Playgirl. (February, 1985)

PAUL: He was into heroin, and – see, which I hadn’t realised [the extent of] till just now. It’s all [starting to click a bit] in my brain. I was just figuring, oh, there’s John, my buddy, and he’s turning on me, ’cause he perceives that I’m... “McCartney bandwagon,” he once said to me. “Oh, they’re all on the McCartney bandwagon.” And to me, I was just releasing a record, okay. So you can call it the McCartney bandwagon, but it’s no harm. It’s no more than anyone else does when they put out a record. And yet things like that were hurting him, and looking back on it now I just think that it’s a bit sad really.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Lennon’s jealousy of McCartney continued throughout the rest of his life. Lennon’s staff at the Dakota, where he spent his final years, attest to frequent tirades about his former partner. In his personal journals, Lennon wrote about Paul “almost every day” according to author Robert Rosen, who read the diaries in 1981 after they were stolen by Dakota employee Fred Seaman. When asked, in 2010, about the most disturbing takeaway of the diaries, Rosen replied “That’s easy. His jealousy of Paul, his love of money and his obsession with the occult.”

Robert Rosen

RR:��Obviously I knew about the rivalry with McCartney, and the jealousy, but I think the extent of it...how often he thought about McCartney, and how jealous he was...I found that pretty shocking. I found it shocking that he was so into money. And the emphasis that was put on the occult was pretty shocking. The extent that they got into it.

An Interview with Robert Rosen

On one McCartney photo, Lennon scribbled the words, “I’m always perfect” as coming from McCartney’s mouth. He drew a Hitler-style moustache on another photo of McCartney. In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.”

Associated Press: Lennon’s resentment of McCartney reflected in book notes. (July 20th, 1986)

So we went through a lot of those problems. But the nice thing was afterwards each one of them in turn very, very quietly and very briefly said, ‘Oh, thanks for that.’ That was about all I ever heard about it. But again, John turned it round. He said, ‘But you’re always right, aren’t you?’ See, there was always this thing. I mean, it seemed crazy for me because I thought the idea was to try and get it right, you know. It was quite surprising to find that if you did get it right, people could then turn that one around and say: ‘But you’re always right aren’t you?’ It’s like moving the goal posts.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

So, here we sit, watching the mighty Dylan and the mighty McCartney and the mighty Jagger slide down the mountain, blood and mud in their nails. Well, that’s the way the world is, ha ha ha, that’s the way the world is, oh yes. The difference between now and a couple of years back is that whenever there was a new thing out by any of the aforesaid, I used to feel a sense of panic and competition. And now, I just feel like even the last few months it’s changed. I would send out for their albums or something just to hear it. There doesn’t seem any point now. Let’s take a break. How do we break? Just put it off. Still, even now, talking about them or thinking about them is still really being involved in it, because the ultimate dissociation would be not even to know they had an album out! [laughs] But now at least I get pleasure in it instead of panic. The main pleasure being of course that it’s all a load of shit. So I suppose I’ll always feel competitive with them, because they were from that same generation, but when I hear something like “Pop Muzik” by Robin Scott or the Blondie single, I really enjoy it, you know. I don’t feel competitive about it.

Lennon audio diaries

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

We agreed that if the press got hold of this record we’d pull the plug on it. I’d tell the musicians that John wasn’t sure if he could do it. He was very, very insecure. He didn’t think he had it anymore, you know. He thought he was too old, he just couldn’t write, he couldn’t sing, he couldn’t play, nothing. It took a while.

Jack Douglas on working with John Lennon on Double Fantasy.

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

Klein, on his first meeting with John: “I thought John was losing confidence in himself, and I really didn’t know who had written exactly what, so I couldn’t give John the encouragement he needed. If Paul was really the main factor in the making of records — I mean, if things were really going to fall apart without him — I needed to know that and be able to deal with it. It turned out, of course, that John had written most of the stuff. He’d forgotten a lot of what he’d contributed … John wrote … 60 or 70 percent of Eleanor Rigby. He just didn’t remember till I sat down and had him sort through it all … Everybody thought McCartney was the genius songwriter who did it all by himself and it wasn’t true.”

Allen Klein, Playboy: A candid conversation with the embattled manager of the Beatles. (November, 1971)

Few people disagreed, however, that McCartney always cared deeply about Lennon’s opinion of him. He was still insecure enough on this point to invite Andy Peebles, the Radio 1 DJ who interviewed John the weekend before his death, to join him early on the morning of 10 December. Peebles went to AIR, where he found Paul both ‘deeply shocked [and] obsessed about what John and Yoko had said about him.’ An irony not lost on Peebles, among others, was that Lennon himself had repeatedly tried to find out what Paul had thought of Double Fantasy. “For public consumption,” says another of his final interviewers, “John seemed not to care. The fact that he mentioned McCartney’s name on average ten times an hour suggests otherwise … The strong feeling was that Paul and Yoko were the only two people in the world whose approval he gave a toss for.” Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

He became so jealous in the end. You know he wouldn’t let me even touch his baby. He got really crazy with jealousy at times.

Paul McCartney, “off the record” conversation with Hunter Davies. (May 3rd, 1981)

“If you do two LPs there might be a little change!” John laughs. “But until then I don’t mind. When she wants the A side, that’s when we start fighting.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: Yoko Ono and her sixteen-track voice. (March 18th, 1971)

John as a solo artist didn’t sell a lot of albums compared to Paul McCartney. That bothered him. So did the adulation that Paul received when he’d go out on the road, which was all rightfully deserved, in my opinion. 

Friends, Forever: Elliot Mintz On His Decade With John And Yoko

Paul's competitiveness

“My role in [Tug of War] was to goad Paul a bit. I think when he and John Lennon split up, he missed John’s goading enormously. It’s almost like they collaborated by means of competition. John would often say cruel things to Paul and Paul would come back and say, ‘I’ll show him what I can do,’ and Paul could be equally cruel to John and then John would come up with something. Despite the love they had for each other, they would still egg each other on in a funny kind of way. I think Paul missed that spur.”

George Martin, interview w/ Paul Grein for Billboard: Martin/McCartney ‘Tug’ team scores. (February 2nd, 1983)

SMITH: Were you closer to any one of them than the others? GEORGE M.: Not really – certainly not in those days, no. Gradually, as things changed, then they went into their little spheres and they became much more – the rivalry between John and Paul became much more marked. So they were never great cooperators. They were never great – they were never Rodgers and Hart. They never collaborated in the sense of sitting down to write a song together. One would have the idea for a song, and take the other guy and say, “Look, I need your help here on this line, can you give it to me?” And that was the way they collaborated. And generally speaking their songs were pitched against each other, [in the sense of] “Well, you’ve written that, hey, listen to mine,” so it was a competitive collaboration. And it was valuable nonetheless, because – in fact Paul misses it terribly now. He misses that spark of John being rude to him and saying, “You can’t write that, Paul, that’s awful,” you know. He needs that. And only John could say that most effectively.

October 22nd, 1986: George Martin

"Paul McCartney was the most competitive person I've ever met. John [Lennon] wasn't competitive. He just thought everyone else was s-h-*-t."

Ray Davies

TV GUIDE: At the time of Wings, how competitive were you with your former Beatles band mates? PAUL: Really competitive. I don’t think any of us would have ever admitted it. I know we would listen to what each other was doing and [think], “Oh, my God, that’s good.” I know for a fact John did once with [my] song ‘Coming Up’. It was on a documentary, I think, about John, where his recording manager at the time said John listened to it and went, “Oh, I’ll have to go back to work.” I found that a very nice fact that I egged John into doing something.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Lisa Bernhard and Steven Reddicliffe for TV Guide: Listen to what the man says. (May 1st, 2001)

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Could you possibly do head canons or a fanfic of Ghostface! Keigo(Hawks) x reader?

You have free creative control to what would happen and stuff like that (I just think the idea would be interesting) but you don’t have to do it if your not comfortable.

(Also I love your work)

Thank you so much!! (I"M BACK BITCHES FR THIS TIME! Also this is my very late Kinktober contribution because college is kicking my ass rn)

He would wait until a day you knew he wouldn’t be home.

“Kei, I promise, it’s alright."

Your boyfriend whined into the receiver. “Yeah, but we had plans tonight."

“And sitting in front of the tv with a bowl of candy and some Jordan Peele movies tomorrow night will be just as lovely.” You reply. “Besides, you gotta protect us from all the toilet-papering teens terrorizing the city tonight.”

“Hardy-har. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love you.”

“I love you back.”

Preferably at a time when your other emotions were likely to overwhelm any idea of his plans.

Setting the phone down, you allowed your body to slouch into a sigh, one final act of disappointment that you didn’t want your boyfriend to see.

While one could argue that you were technically used to his fluctuating schedule, it still didn’t make it any less disheartening when he was called in last minute on holidays. Of course, you didn’t let him know that.

Then he'd play with you just a bit, letting your sense of anxiety spike just the slightest by leaving the overhead skylight ajar.

Had he really left it open?

“Dumbass,” you muttered with a grin, quickly standing up to grab a ladder.

A chill rattled through your spine as you climbed, fall wind blowing through your hair and poking goosebumps in your skin as you pulled the window closed, making sure to lock it before wandering into the kitchen for an after-dinner snack.

A bowl of cereal was always an easy solution, especially when it was accompanied by a spooky flick and a comfortable bar seat at the counter.

Your phone would ring at exactly midnight, a voice he knew you'd find familiar, yet still unable to place, would answer.

Unknown Number.

"Hello?"

"Hey there," the voice was masculine and deep, like the sound had been covered with a sheet of gravel before being released.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"Oh, come on, don't you recognize me?"

"Uh, no. I think you might have the wrong number."

"No, I don't." Silence followed for a few moments, just enough for a touch of unease to stir in your gut. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You gotta have a favorite. I know you like them."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you're watching one right now."

He also knew how well you liked horror films, how easily you would recognize the reference and think of the surprise call as a prank. Then he'd make sure to get your heart beating once more.

"I also know your boyfriend left the window open on his way out. That's dangerous, dontcha think? Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone with the door locked?"

"What do you want?" Fear shook your vocal cords, the question coming out in a ridiculously less forceful manner than you would've liked.

"You."

Being the over-protective boyfriend he was, you had been taught how to react to a situation like this beforehand. That just meant he had to move quickly, sliding a hand over your mouth to smother a scream and prying the phone from your fingers before you could even think of calling for help.

"Calm down, sweetheart." The masked figure tossed the voice changer away, black fabric tickling the rim of your ear. "I've got ya."

Keigo was thoughtful. He'd give you a moment of realization, and another to stop struggling, before forcefully turning you around and lifting you on top of the counter, one hand encasing both of your wrists and the other toying with the end of your sleep-shorts.

Eyes widening in shook, you took in the white mask in front of you. Lifeless black eyes and a horrifyingly exaggerated mouth, one that left the expression into one of pure terror for eternity. The dark fabric surrounding it just exaggerated that pristine look, one of perfectly untouched cartilage.

Still, despite its velvety presence, you recognized the hands poking out from the robe. Bronze skin kissed by years in the sun, interrupted by the lines of scars that you had spent countless nights running your fingers over.

The hands were warm, just as they always were, as they slid over your thighs, forcing them open before sliding underneath the bottom hem of your pajamas.

He would watch you try not to moan as he brushed his thumb over your clit, caressing gentle circles over it before pushing a finger inside. The soft whimper he earned made his cock jump.

"That's right, gorgeous." The masked figure slid another digit in, undoubtedly smirking as he felt you clench around him.

"I wanna hear you scream."