#Just something interesting to consider I think
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The thing is the idea that “fun” and “literary criticism” are two things totally separate from each other, especially in fandom, is funny considering fandom dwellers are obsessed with what they think “death of the author” means because it makes them feel smarter about shipping or having headcanons. Many pretentiously invoke some basic concepts of literary criticism where those ideas don’t apply in support of their fanfuck and then act like someone else is the snob if they’re like…
Yes, all of you in the notes writing this whole post off just because it’s kinda bitchy, I am such a monster for making the general point that there’s a widespread misconception about what it means that “art is open to interpretation.” Which is just true. In a silly meme format that doesn’t allow for much nuance.
If you’re going to bring up ideas like authorial intent and art being open to interpretation, that is presenting your perspective as interpretation, not just a headcanon. And if there’s to be any kind of informal “peer review” to make discussions more productive, interesting, and inspirational as I love that fandom discussion can be, we should be able to give counter-arguments to consider. There’s a polite way to do this ofc, but I don’t feel like being polite about someone’s argument if its general attitude is something like “if you see this thing in canon differently you’re stupid/homophobic/a rape apologist/a supporter of the author’s wrongs etc.”). Often people reblog my meta posts with tags like “I don’t agree with this one part but…” and it drives me crazy that they don’t explain themselves because of course I could be totally overlooking some things and be wrong. Disagree with me! But tell me what your basis is in canon for thinking that!
Not “Only my reading of canon is correct” or “Interpretations are subjective and all valid” but a secret third thing, “More than one interpretation can be valid but there’s a reason your English teacher had you cite quotes and examples in your papers, you have to have a strong argument that your interpretation is actually supported by the text or it is just wrong and I’m fine with telling you it’s wrong, actually.”
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hi!! if you’re interested , i’m currently obsessed with old man joel on viagra fics and feel like you could make it art
may i please request old man joel w a little blue pill and overstim 🙏
thank u ur amazing mwah
thanks for the request! sorry it took a while!
Little Blue
Pairing: Old!Joel Miller x reader
Summary: Joel takes a little blue pill and starts to notice all the little blue things.
Warnings: 18+ please, AU no cordyceps, viagra, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation, INTENSE overstimulation, pet names, pussy pronouns, spanking, hair grabbing, a little bit of humiliation, BIG age gap(56 and 19)
Word Count: 2.1k
Wanna read something specific for Joel Miller? Send me a request!!
There was something ridiculously beautiful about being as needy as you had been recently. You constantly were dropping to your knees in front of Joel, running your fingers up and down his thick thighs. You would fiddle with his zipper while you looked up at him, innocently needing him. You had been begging for Joel’s cock Every. Single. Day. and Joel was struggling to keep up. It was a lovely problem to have, Joel wasn’t going to complain about having a gorgeous nineteen year old on your knees in front of him, asking to suck him off.
But at fifty-six years old, Joel wasn’t as spry as he used to be but he wanted to be ready to give you what you needed as much as he could. Today had been especially difficult for him, you wore a a little blue bow in your hair and ran your fingers up and down his thigh under the table while you ate dinner together. He knew exactly what you wanted, you weren’t exactly subtle. Joel reached down and took your fingers, he squeezed them and then pushed your hand away, trying to not feel bad about the sad look on your face, but Joel wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep up tonight considering that morning you had insisted on sucking his cock.
He brought your fingers up to his lips and kissed your knuckles.
“Don’t you like the way I rub your leg, Joel?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, the little blue bow in your hair bobbing. Joel let out a huff,
“I do, babygirl. I just-you know i’m an old man,” He admitted, feeling a little bad that he had to admit that. You bit your lip, looking up at him,
“I like that about you,” You giggled and he smiled,
“I know, but I aint…I ain’t able to give ya all ya need sometimes,” He said regretfully. You pursed your lips and sighed,
“I am a little needy,” You mumbled, looking down in your lap, feeling a little guilty that you had been begging for his cock so often. Joel hated that he had to reject you but he wasn’t sure he was able to give you the hard fucking you deserved. That was when he remembered a specific pill bottle in his medicine cabinet. He had never felt like he needed them but then his doctor found out he had started dating again so he let him write a prescription for him. Now the pills were sitting in his medicine cabinet just waiting for a moment like this.
“it’s okay, babe, if you clear the table I’ll do the dishes in a second,” He said. You nodded, leaned over, kissed him and then got up. Joel went into the bathroom, you had a blue bra hanging on the back of the door. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over it while he shut the door. He went to the cabinet, opening it and wondering if he was really about to do this. He felt a little humiliated but then he remembered the way your fingers had felt on his thigh, and how you always looked up at him when you were on your knees in front of him. That was enough to spur him on to take out the medicine bottle, tap out a little blue pill and throw it back.
Joel went back into the kitchen then and worked on the dishes, taking his time and listening to you in the living room, you had the TV on and he imagined the way you looked lying on the couch. By the time he was done it had been almost a half hour and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the bra on the back the door of the bathroom your hand on his thigh and how much you had needed him recently. He went into the living room and saw you, lying on your stomach on the couch, facing away from him, looking at a magazine and only half paying attention to the television that was on.
The little blue bow in your hair shifted as he you shook our your hair, and Joel noticed with a jolt just below where his belt buckle dug into his belly, that you had matched the bow in your hair to your little undies. They were peaking out from underneath your short skirt. Fuck. You were naughty. It was like everything you did was designed to try and turn him on. You needed it so much that you matched your hair accessories to your undies and left bras out in the bathroom to constantly remind him that you were wet, horny, needy.
Joel walked over to the couch and reached down and rubbed your lower back, his hand traveling down to your ass and squeezing.
“Oh hi,” You said innocently, glancing back. Joel swept his hand up over your ass, brushing your skirt up. You giggled and wiggled your ass.
Joel grabbed the waistband of your undies and tugged up, causing the little blue undies to slip between your ass cheeks. You lifted your hips up, pressing your knees into the couch. “atta girl, show off your sweet ass,” Joel said as he moved behind you more, looking down at your undies tightening over your already slightly swollen pussy lips. You glanced over your shoulder at him and he smiled a devilish smile, his finger trailing down from the curve of your ass to your clothed sex. “Ya been so needy recently, haven’t ya, darlin?” He asked as he stroked your lips up and down, his other hand tightening on the underwear he was holding in a tight wedgie. You let out a little moan,
“Oh! Yes…yes. I just want your cock.” You sighed, pressing your hips back towards his fingers.
“Mhm, you’re a filthy girl, aint ya?” He asked with a laugh. He could feel his cock hardening in his pants, he made a point to thank the little blue pill gods for the help. You nodded. “Say it back to me,” Joel commanded.
“I’m a filthy girl, Joel,” you moaned. Joel released your undies to smack your asscheek, hard.
“That’s right,” he growled. “Always tryin’ to get my cock. Always suckin’ me dry and still needing more.” Joel put his knee down on the couch behind you. His fingers rubbed over your underwear, feeling them getting wetter, the more he rubbed. You nodded. “Use your words, babygirl, ya need this cock to make ya feel good, don’t ya?” He asked.
“Yes! Joel! I need your cock,” You whined. Joel unbuckled his belt and started to pull his pants down, needing to release his already throbbing cock. When he managed to get his pants and underwear down, you were shoving yourself back into him, practically begging for it to be fucked into you. Joel’s big hand came down hard against your ass again, making you yelp.
“I’ll give ya whatcha need, darlin’. Pull your underwear down.” He reached down and started to stroke his cock in his hand, up and down. You reached back and tucked your thumbs into your undies and started to pull them down, Joel watched as your little blue undies slipped out of your ass and then down, showing off your puffy, excited, wet pussy lips. Joel let out a little moan, his hand still rubbing over his impossibly hard dick.
“That’s righ’, little girl, show her off to me. I wanna watch myself fuck into her,” He groaned and then you got your undies all the way down, they fell to your knees. “Spread yourself out for me, I wanna see her open up.” The filthy words that were spilling out of Joel’s mouth made your cunt clench on nothing. You couldn’t believe he was up for another round after that morning when he spilled his load all over your face. You reached back farther, your face pressing into the cushion of the couch as you pulled your asscheeks apart, making your pussy open for his prying eyes.
Joel couldn’t wait any longer, her cunt was glistening with wetness and opening in such a pretty way. He notched himself against your hole, “You keep her open for me, naughty girl, you’re going to take all of him in that pretty cunt.” He said.
“Yes! Please!” You moaned and then you felt his cock plunge into you all the way. It felt like you were being split in two in the best possible way. “Oh fuck,” You moaned, still holding yourself open while Joel fucked his stiff manhood into you. Joel marveled at the way you accepted him into your hole. He could see your cunt gripping him as he pushed himself deep inside of you and then pulled back. Every time he tugged back, you babbled about needing him more and more.
Joel leaned over your back, his front pressed into you and he grabbed the hair on the back of your head, right below the little blue bow tied into your hair. He pulled you up, so you were sitting up on your knees, pressed back into him. He worked his hips up into you, feeling you tighten around him. One of Joel’s hands stayed in your hair, the other wrapped around your front and his fingers found your clit, tracing his finger over it. You moaned,
“Joel! I’m going to come if you-“
“Good,” He growled. “You’re so filthy and horny, you’re going to come over and over for me.” He growled into your ear. You whimpered and you could feel your orgasm take over you suddenly, it was like the second he had added his finger swirling around your clit you had been plunged into such intense pleasure that you couldn’t hold off. You shook against him moaning and rutting yourself back into him. As you came down, Joel didn’t stop. His finger kept swirling around your swollen clitoris as he pumped his hips into you, his big cock slamming against your cervix over and over.
Your cunt contracted as he forced himself inside of you. Your body was shaking with the pleasure and you squirmed, trying to get away from the intensity of it.
“I-I can’t…! Joel! I- Oh god!” You sobbed out as he pinched your clit, massaging you through the overstimulation.
“You’re goin’ to take it, darlin’, you’ve been needin’ it so bad and your old man is goin’ to give it to ya until ya can’t take it anymore,” He growled into your cheek. Joel could feel the soft silk of your little blue hair bow against his fingers as he held your hair. Your clit was so swollen and over used that he could easily pinch it and stroke it while he fucked his hips up into you. His own orgasm was close but thanks to his own little blue something, he was still rock hard inside of you. Your legs were shaking and the next orgasm was going to be one that burned through you, it felt like it would destroy you. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle it,
“I can’t, I can’t! I can’t! Joel! I’m…it’s hurting! Oh please! Please!” It was burning and aching and the orgasm was being ripped form you and despite the hurt form overstimulation, you needed the orgasm to overtake you.
“That’s right, lil girl, you fuckin’ come again.” He growled into your air, he bit down on your neck and you cried out while your orgasm seemed to rip through you.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you were struggling to breathe as Joel stroked your clit through your next orgasm but he still didn’t stop, stroking you over and over while his hips beat their unforgiving pattern against you. He wanted to stroke your overstimulated clit through his own orgasm. You were fucked dumb and moaning weakly as he pumped himself deeper and deeper into you.
“That’s my girl, that’s my filthy girl, fuck! I’m goin’ to come all over your insides,” Joel released your hair and his fingers on your clit as his own orgasm burst over him. You collapsed forward onto the couch, shaking, shuddering and sobbing while he fucked himself into you through his own orgasm. When he pulled out, he watched his own creamy spend start to leak out of your abused hole. His finger stroked down against your hole, pushing his come back inside of you. You moaned weakly as he replaced your little blue undies over your pulsing cunt.
“You fulfilled yet, darlin?” he asked. You moaned into the couch cushions. He stroked down your back and into your hair, his fingers twisting around the little blue ribbon in your hair. “Pretty girl, you just needed a little extra, didnt ya?” He smirked. You nodded weakly and Joel resolved to take that little blue pill more often.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel tlou#pedro pascal#pedro pascal cinematic universe#writing#joel miller headcanons#joel snippets
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Professional-Hwang Jun-ho
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The sharp night wind sweeps through the alleys of Seoul as you walk briskly toward the squad car parked behind the police precinct. The lit cigarette between your fingers burns slowly, while you watch the neon lights reflect in the dirty puddles. You've always been like this—cold, distant, untouchable. Not because you like it, but because it's necessary. In this world, showing weakness means you're done for.
"Are you planning to ignore me forever?"
Hwang Jun-ho’s deep voice cuts through the silence. He’s leaning against the car door, arms crossed, that piercing gaze studying you like he can read every secret you keep.
"Interesting attempt," you reply with a mocking half-smile, flicking away the cigarette and crushing it under your boot. "But you should know I’m not the type to get easily distracted."
"Could’ve fooled me, considering you were the one who asked for my help on this case." His voice drops lower now, almost a whisper, like he's daring you.
You don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You’re the best detective on the narcotics squad, and you don’t have time for stupid games. But him… he's different. Stubborn. Sharp. Suspiciously attuned to your every move.
"Don’t mistake work for something else, Jun-ho." You step closer, locking eyes with him. You're near enough to catch his scent a mix of coffee and prefume. "I’m not one of those women who fall at your feet."
He smirks, that smirk that makes you want to either punch him or kiss him—and that’s the problem. Because Hwang Jun-ho is dangerous. Not just as a colleague, but as a man. Because he sees past your mask, senses the cracks in your icy walls.
"I know," he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his face just inches from yours. "And that’s exactly why I like you."
Your breath catches for a second. You shouldn’t let him get this close. You shouldn’t allow him to see that beneath all this armor, there’s something fragile. But it’s too late.
Because deep down, you already know.You’re screwed.
“Come on now, we have work to do” you say coldly as you put your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket.
Jun-ho chuckles, the sound almost like a throaty purr that wraps around your senses. He pushes off the car, closing the distance between you in a few effortless strides. His lips curve into the kind of smirk that says he knows exactly what effect he's having on you."Always business first, huh?"
You cross your arms looking at him seriously. “Are you seriously trying to waste time when we have something important to do?”
Jun-ho raises a mocking eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. He knows you’re trying to hold your ground, to keep up appearances. But the spark in his eyes suggests otherwise. “Waste time? No, never. I just happen to believe multitasking is a skill.”He takes another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And a little distraction now and then isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Detective.”
You try to maintain your composure, but the way he says those words,a hint of mockery, yet filled with a deeper meaning,makes your heart flutter betraying your stoicism. “We have a suspect to tail.” Your tone is sharp, but it does nothing to diminish the heat radiating between you. Jun-ho simply smiles, a smirk that feels almost predatory. He leans in, his breath whispering against your ear.
“I know a thing or two about tailing,” he murmurs, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “But I was thinking of a different kind of tailing.”You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, despite your best efforts to contain it. You clear your throat, attempting to regain control. This man is too damn confident.
“Focus, Jun-ho,” you snap, trying to keep things professional. “This isn't a joke. Our case is serious.”
He straightens up, a hint of mockery still lingering in his smirk. “Oh, I am focused,” he says, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “But I can't help but notice you're a little... distracted.”You glower at him, knowing damn well he sees straight through you. He's pushing your buttons, enjoying watching you squirm.
Jun-ho leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours. He reaches up, tracing a finger lightly along your cheek. You try to swat his hand away, but he catches it effortlessly, holding onto it. His thumb grazes over your knuckles, the gentle touch sending electric sparks through your veins."You’re cute when you’re irritated," he murmurs, amusement glittering in his eyes. "But I prefer the look on your face when you’re flustered."
"Let. Me. Go." The words come out in an irritated hiss, but it does nothing to dispel the tension hanging in the air. Instead, it just makes Jun-ho's smirk widen.He leans even closer, his body almost touching yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, his breaths mingling with your own. “No.”
His answer sends a shiver down your spine, but you try to hide it. Even as his touch ignites a fire beneath your skin, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten under your skin. You try to pull your hand away, but his grip tightens. He steps even closer, his breath warm on your neck. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest, pounding against your ribcage as if it’s desperate to break free. You’re a detective, for crying out loud. You’re supposed to be strong, aloof. But here you are, struggling to keep your cool while your colleague,your friend,is driving you insane.
"What's the matter, Detective?" His voice is a soft purr, his body pressed against yours now. He knows he's pushing all the right buttons, knows he's getting exactly the reaction he wanted. "Can't handle a little distraction?"His free hand drifts up to your chin, tilting your face towards his. His gaze is intense, almost predatory. You feel like prey.
"We have a case to solve" you repeated, trying to maintain your cool facade, but you didn't seem very convinced by what you were saying. You were hating yourself for being so weak, you're not like that. You've always been cold and closed.
"Oh, come on," Jun-ho whispers, his fingers tracing a path down your jawline, "we both know work isn’t the only thing on your mind right now."He’s so damn infuriatingly smug. You’re trying to keep your cool, to keep things professional, but he’s making it impossible. Every look, every touch feels like it’s designed to unravel your defenses.
"You're reading too much into things," you manage to respond, though your voice lacks the usual conviction. Jun-ho gives you a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours."Am I?" He murmurs, his breath now hot on your ear. "Or am I just seeing what’s right in front of me?"He's too close, too confident, and it's driving you crazy. Your heart is pounding like a drum, a maddening rhythm that's threatening to drown out your rational thoughts.
Jun-ho senses your internal battle. He steps even closer, his body now flush against yours. You can feel the heat of him, the subtle pressure as he pins you against the car."Just admit it," he whispers, his voice low and intense, "you're not thinking about the case right now. You're thinking about me."
“I hate you so much right now,” you whisper, looking at his lips. Jun-ho's smirk widens, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of satisfaction and arrogance. He knows he's got you right where he wants you, and he's reveling in it.
“You don’t hate me,” he murmurs, his voice lowering into a sultry purr. “You just hate that you can’t resist me.” With a swift motion, he captures your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up towards his. He's so close now that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. He leans in, his lips skimming the shell of your ear.
"Admit it," he whispers, his breath hot on your skin. “You want me just as much as I want you. Stop fighting it. Let yourself go." The urge to surrender is strong, but you stubbornly cling to the last vestiges of your composure. You can't let him win so easily. You're not some helpless damsel in distress.
You push against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. "You're cocky, you know that?" Jun-ho chuckles at the feeble attempt to regain control, catching your wrists in his hands. "And you love it," he retorts, his grip tightening slightly. "Admit it. My cocky attitude drives you crazy."
You hate that he knows he's right. His arrogant confidence is infuriating, but it's also strangely alluring. It's as if he knows exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you crumble."You're a jerk," you mutter, but the lack of conviction in your voice betrays you.
"Mmhmm." That cocky smirk again. He's enjoying this far too much. He takes a step closer, his body now pressed against yours. You can feel the solid planes of his chest against your back, the heat of him seeping through your clothes."You can call me all the names you want, but I know the truth," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jawline. "You're craving this just as much as I am."
The speed and ease with which he pins you against the car takes your breath away. In an instant, you're backed up against the cold metal, your wrists caught in his firm grip. Jun-ho's body presses against yours, his hands pinning your wrists above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy. Every part of you is hyper-aware of his presence:the heat of his body, the strength in his grip, the spicy scent of his cologne. His gaze is intense, his eyes dark with a desire that's making your heart race."You’re so stubborn," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. "You just can't help but push my buttons, can you?"
He leans in, his lips brushing against the hollow of your neck. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine. His breath is hot on your skin, making you feel strangely vulnerable."You know I have a weakness for stubbornness," he whispers, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "But you're really testing my patience."
You try to stay composed, to act like his touch doesn't affect you, but it's a losing battle. Your body betrays you, melting into his touch, seeking more. With a low chuckle, Jun-ho notices the change in your demeanor."You can act tough all you want," he murmurs, his lips now on your jawline, "but I can feel the way your pulse quickens when I touch you."
Jun-ho's gaze locks with yours, his eyes studying your conflicted expression. He's enjoying this,the way you're fighting to hide your feelings, the way your eyes betray your true emotions. He lets out a low chuckle, his grip on your wrists loosening slightly."You're struggling, aren't you?" He murmurs, his lips hovering just millimeters from your own. "Trying to decide whether you want to punch me or kiss me."
His words hit too close to the truth. The mix of anger and desire bubbling inside you is driving you crazy. You want to push him away, to tell him to back off. But the way he's looking at you,with that arrogant smirk and those intense, dark eyes,makes it damn near impossible to resist.
His lips capture yours with an intensity that takes you by surprise. The kiss is hard and hungry, his mouth claiming yours as if he's been craving this moment. He's still pinning you down, his body pressed against yours, his grip on your wrists now loose but possessive.He deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, and your resistance falter.
You kiss back and moan softly as you cling to him. Your response emboldens him, his kiss growing more possessive, more intense. He releases your wrists, his hands now roaming over your body, exploring every curve with an expert touch. He knows exactly how to drive you crazy.He breaks the kiss, his lips leaving yours to trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. His hands slip under your shirt, his touch searing against your bare flesh.
You moan softly. “Jun-ho,” you whisper, holding onto him. Jun-ho responds to the sound of his name coming from your lips, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He continues his assault on your neck, his tongue grazing the sensitive skin below your ear.
"Say my name again," he whispers, his voice huskier than before. "Louder."
You try to cling to your remaining shreds of control, but your resolve is crumbling under his touch. The way he's commanding you, the way he's making you feel, it's all too intoxicating.You let out another soft moan, his name tumbling from your lips. "Jun-ho." It almost sounds like a plea.
Jun-ho lets out a possessive growl, the sound low and primal. He captures your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more desperate. His hands explore your body with fervor, slipping beneath your shirt to touch skin. His touch is electric, setting your senses ablaze.
He grabs your waist, hoisting you onto the hood of the car with ease. He steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours, trapping you in his embrace. The heat between you is palpable, the tension almost unbearable. Jun-ho's hands slide down your thighs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck once more. "You have no idea the things you do to me," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with desire.
His lips move lower, towards your collarbone, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the way. You're melting under his touch, unable to resist the fire he's igniting within you. His hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he's trying to brand you as his.
The sharp crackle of the radio breaks through the heated atmosphere, jolting both of you back to reality. Jun-ho's eyes dart towards the sound, his gaze sharpening. He mutters a curse under his breath.He looks back at you, conflicted. He's clearly torn between duty and desire, the moment shattered by the reminder of their job.
You give him one last kiss and walk away to the car. "You drive" you say, adjusting your jacket and returning to your detached attitude.
Jun-ho watches you as you compose yourself, his eyes still dark with unspoken desire. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment as you put up your detached and professional front again. But he knows that the moment has passed, that the job takes precedence now.
He takes a deep breath, composing himself, and heads to the driver's seat. "Right. Let's focus on the target," he says, his voice cool and business-like.
#hwang jun ho x you#hwang jun ho smut#hwang jun ho x reader#hwang jun ho#hwang jun ho x y/n#hwang junho#hwang junho x you#hwang jun ho imagine#squid game imagines#squid game x y/n#squid game x fem!reader#squid game x oc#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game jun ho#jun ho x reader#jun ho squid game
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perv!matt x innocent!reader♡
pt.7 ❤︎ vibe
part 6 is here
masterlist is here
warnings: this contains sexual content, but it is all consensual! mutual masturbation, use of sex toys, phone sex, pure filth.
w/c: 3011
matt’s call comes in right on time as you’ve made yourself comfortable in bed. next to you lays the vibe toy that matt bought for you at the sex shop. last night he had called you to apologize for going ghost for a week and decided to come up with the deal that he’d use the toy on you to make it up to you. you agreed because this piqued your interest, and you were curious if he was actually going to go through with it. matt was very shy, reserved, and not like any other guy that you have been around, but that wasn’t a bad thing. you weren’t sure what the two of you were and what it is that you were doing, but you always just told yourself a little fun won’t hurt.
“hello?” you answered your phone with your airpods in your ear, making sure to be prepared so that you had both of your hands free. knowing that this was actually going to happen, and matt was going to be in control of when and how you cum was already turning you on and making your heartbeat rapidly in your chest from excitement and nerves rolling through you.
“hey, pretty.” matt’s voice comes through on the other end, followed by some shuffling which you assumed was him getting himself settled into bed. “how was your day?”
you leaned your head back against the pillow, your eyes closing as you vividly try to remember your day, which was a complete blur. “i had a super early shift at the coffee shop and then i had to study for my exams next week, so that’s pretty much it.” you let out a pathetic laugh because well, that’s how you felt considering your day was very much noneventful. “how about you?”
“i ran some errands and then filmed a video with nick and chris. nick is editing it and it’s going up on friday.” you hear a soft laugh come from the other end. “it was just a car video where we talk about the most out of pocket, dumbest shit ever.”
“i’ve seen all of your videos. mainly because sometimes i’ve sat with nick as he would edit them to keep him company. you guys are hilarious.” your tone was gentle, your one hand playing with the bow on your pajama shorts.
matt lets out another laugh on the other end. “well, that means a lot coming from you. thank you, doll.” he paused for a moment, a deep breath exhaling from his chest and out past his lips. “so, do we still have a deal?”
your cheeks suddenly felt warm at the sudden switch in conversation. you were surprised that he brought it up almost immediately, but you weren’t complaining. that was the whole reason he was calling you tonight. “of course we do.” you say shyly, moving your hand over to grab the vibe toy, tracing it with your index finger before holding it in the palm of your hand. “i have it in my hand right now.”
“okay, so i did some research.” he laughs softly. “i have the app on my phone so once you turn it on, i’ll get to control it however i want.”
you don’t know why you were suddenly so nervous. it was your idea in the first place to buy it when you went to the sex shop. you were intrigued and thought it would be fun to explore and do something different. you felt comfortable with matt, even if you weren’t sure on your true feelings for him. “oh, you did your research huh? look at you, smart little thing.”
“hey, for good reason.” he let out another laugh, a deep breath exhaling from his chest and out past his lips. “i was a little nervous, not gonna lie, but it’s all i’ve been able to think about.” he admitted honestly with a bit of shyness evident in his tone. you could imagine him now, in his bed, probably extremely flustered and hard as he imagined what you looked like in this very moment and how he probably wished it was him touching you instead.
“confident and a risk taker? the girls should be lining up at your door begging you to touch them.” a soft giggle emits from your lips at your own words, although for some reason the thought of other girls finding interest in matt made the pit of your stomach feel funny, almost like you were jealous and you didn’t like that. not at all.
“i’m good.” he said almost immediately, a laugh leaving his lips. “i only want to touch one girl and one girl only.”
his words made your cheeks warm, the pink, rosy tint creeping up against your cheeks. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you feel special as if you were the only girl that even existed in the entire world. “is that so?” you weren’t sure how to reply to him, so your response was very nonchalant.
“i mean, i’m about to control how and when she orgasms, so yes.”
your cheeks only turn a darker shade of red at his words, your chest beating rapidly in your chest at the feeling of the electricity sparking throughout your veins. he couldn’t see you, but he knew you were getting flustered. he knew you very well, even if you didn’t realize it. “okay, so i just put it in my underwear?”
“yeah, pretty. let me know when it’s in and i’ll turn it on, okay? i’ll start it off slow, i promise.” his words were reassuring enough to make you feel comfortable, although you were still slightly nervous.
you took in a shaky breath before placing the small vibe into your underwear and making sure your underwear is compressed against the material tightly enough so that you can feel every bit of intensity when he decides to turn it on. “okay.” you spoke in a soft whisper, another breath falling from your lips. “it’s in.”
“atta girl.” his words sent a shudder down your spine and butterflies to roam in the pit of your tummy. you hadn’t realized the effect matt was having on you lately and even though you weren’t complaining about it, it still left you confused yet intrigued for more.
suddenly, you felt a vibration against your now soaked clit through the fabric of your thin lacy underwear, the vibe toy buzzing to life as the sensation immediately caused you to let out a soft gasp. the thing was tiny, but mighty. “holy s-shit.” you stammered on your words, your legs spreading out onto the bed to get into a more comfortable position.
matt was in full, utter control on the other end. who knew just from a simple app and the touch of his fingers against his phone screen that he’d be the one in control of making you feel good and how intense it becomes without even physically being there. of course, he’d love to be there for real, but this would have to do, for now of course. “how’s it feel, hm?” he cooed on the other end of the phone, his fingers working their magic against the app as he traced lines up and down onto the app while it being on the lowest setting.
“f-feels good.” you stuttered out your words, a delicate moan emitting from your lips as you feel the vibe toy vibrating against your core and immediately coating the toy with your slick arousal. “so wet.” you moaned out, the head throwing back against the pillow.
you heard matt let out a shaky breath on the other end. “i bet you’re soaked. i wish i was there to do instead. do you think you can handle a little more?”
another moan escapes your lips, moving one of your hands up to your breast through the fabric of your tank top and giving it a gentle squeeze, the pad of your thumb caressing against your hardened nipple. “y-yes.” you stammered, a shaky breath falling from your lips. you spread your legs further onto the bed, your eyes immediately widening as you suddenly felt the vibrating sensation grow more intense against your aching, soaking wet pussy. “fuck, matt!” you cried out, the vibration hitting your clit perfectly as you push your hips up into the vibe toy to continue feeling every bit of intensity rolling through you.
he was clearly having fun getting to be in control of the intensity levels and figuring out how much you can actually handle. “sound so pretty f’me, doll. love it when you say my name.”
his words and the feeling of the vibrations against your soaking wet clit was a sensation that you never truly experienced before. soft moans and heavy breaths escaped your lips, and you knew he could hear every single one of these sounds over the phone because he elicited a satisfied groan from his lips. he loved hearing you and knowing that he was the one in control of how you were truly feeling in that moment. he could turn it off, raise the level, or lower it at any given moment. he’d never tease you though; especially when he had you in the palm of his hand.
your face was flushed, and your head was thrown back against the pillows, your hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat glistening against your skin and pooling into your hairline. your heartbeat rapidly in your chest from the sensations rolling throughout your body. your pussy was throbbing and sopping wet and just when you thought the intensity was already high, he played around with the levels and increased it another notch.
you immediately let out an immediate moan at the intensity level of the buzzing against your swollen nub, gasping as it continued to press against your bundle of nerves. “oh fuck!” you cried out in pleasure, moving your hand over to your own breast underneath your tank top and began to pinch your own hardened nipple and kneading your breast in your hand. “k-keep going.” you stuttered out, heavy breaths falling from your lips. “n-not gonna last.”
he’s loving every second of this. hearing your pretty sounds and knowing that he’s the one responsible for them just turned him on even more. even just from his bedroom to yours, you were putty in his hands, and he couldn’t get enough.
his own cock was throbbing immensely against the fabric of his boxers as he laid there with a wet patch forming at the center, his hand working his magic on his phone while his other hand slid down to begin tugging off his boxers to allow his hardening cock to spring free. he hissed quietly through clenched teeth due to the cold air hitting his sensitive cock. the tip of his cock was flushed pink and leaking pre-cum. he was glad he decided to use his airpods so he could have a free hand to touch himself while still being able to be in control of the app on his phone.
“fuck.” matt grunted out at the feeling of his own hand against his hardened cock as it began to twitch against his palm. he’s never done something like this before, and neither have you and it was something he’d never forget. he’d replay this memory over and over again in the back of his mind, especially when he touched himself to the thought of you.
he’s gotten a taste of you, but fuck, he wanted you to have a taste of him in return one day.
you hear the sounds he’s making on the other end and you begin to wonder if he’s touching himself too. the vibration against you is so intense that your legs begin to tremble, and fire starts coursing throughout your veins to signal that your orgasm was approaching. “fuck, matt.” you moaned out as your hand massages your breast, your fingers pinching your hardened nipple and rolls it between your fingertips. “i’m g-gonna cum.”
matt groaned in satisfaction at your words as he continued to pump his fist against his own rock-hard cock as it twitches in his hand, his thumb circling along the tip each time he moves his hand up. “fuck, you gonna cum f’me, pretty girl? such a good girl.” he let out a couple grunts, his other hand continuing to play around with the levels on the app as the vibe vibrates intensely against your swollen clit. he picked up speed within his own fist and pumped his cock furiously, a string of groans falling from the back of his throat.
hearing his words and the feeling of the toy vibrating against your clit sends you over the edge. your eyes fall shut with your head thrown against the pillow. a string of moans and profanities leave your lips, fire coursing throughout your veins and you feel heat pooling in your tummy as you let go fully. “fuck, matt! i’m cumming!” you moan out in ecstasy, your body shakes, your legs tremble as you cum hard all around the vibrating toy, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body and straight to your aching core.
the vibrations roll against you as you moan through your orgasm, letting it consume and control your entire body. matt whispers praises in your ear over the phone, telling you that you did so good and sound so beautiful. you recover from your intense high a minute later, pulling the vibe out of your panties and placing it next to you on the bed. your breathing is labored, your heart racing rapidly in your chest from the intense orgasm you just encountered.
“fuck.” matt grunted out on the other end. “did so good f’me. wish i was there to take care of you. how do you feel?” he eventually closed out the app once he knew you couldn’t handle anymore and placed his phone down onto the bed next to him.
your legs are still shaking as you close them and pull your blanket over your body, your head hitting the pillow comfortably again as you try to calm yourself down. your limbs felt weak, your body growing tired. “i feel amazing. thank you, matt.” your cheeks and chest were flushed as you let out a soft giggle. “what about you? are you touching yourself for me?”
you hear shuffling against the other end, followed by string of moans falling from his lips. “y-yeah, doll. i can’t help it. got me so turned on, fuck.” his words make you moan all over again, butterflies roaming in your tummy at the sound of him. he sounded so pretty, and you wondered what he looked like when he was touching himself, or if you were there to do it for him instead.
“can i help?” you ask innocently, biting gently onto your bottom lip. there was something about the fact that he was turned on and touching himself to the thought of you that made you feel so special, so warm inside and you were starting to get hooked on that feeling.
“please? i’m so fucking hard.” matt said bluntly, a soft whine emitting from his lips as he continued to fist his own cock, the pad of his thumb swiping across the pre-cum and lathering it against the entire shaft. his cock was twitching immensely in his hand as he throws his head back, hissing through his teeth at the sensation.
your center was throbbing still from the intense vibrations that were against you. you let out a few shaky breaths, your heart still racing in your chest from the anticipation. “of course. i bet you’re so hard just from hearing me cum, aren’t you?”
he let out a guttural groan in response to your words, his fist pumping his cock a bit faster now, his head thrown onto the pillow behind him. he was already so close, his chest heaving up and down with fire coursing throughout his veins. “i’m always so hard because of you, doll. fuck, the things you do to me. s-so close.”
his words made your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink and immediately feel warm to touch as you lifted your hand against your cheek before placing your fingers between your messy locks. yo could feel your heart beating even faster. “matt.. fuck. are you gonna cum for me? just imagine i was there, my hand around your cock, or my mouth. you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
matt groans against the other end, his hand moving faster against his aching hard cock. you could hear his breathing becoming heavier by the second with a string of moans leaving his lips. “fuck, doll. i’m gonna cum. shit, i-“
he cums, hard. all over his fist and stomach, a string of groans and profanities fall from his lips as his mind is consumed of thoughts of you and your beautiful voice on the other end of the call. his chest heaves up and down as he tries to calm down from his high and all you could do is lay there and imagine what he looks like when he cums and how pretty he looks and what he would taste like. “fuck, matt. that was.. wow.”
matt laughs on the other end, his breathing still slightly labored as he tries to recover from his intense orgasm. “thanks for keeping your end of the deal, pretty. that was fucking incredible.”
“thank you for helping me and buying it for me. maybe we can do it again sometime.” you smile as you twirl a strand of your hair around with your finger. you couldn’t help but smile at his words and how things felt so natural when you were talking with him. no matter what you two talked about, things just felt comfortable.
“maybe next time it can be in person, and we can touch each other for real.”
how could you say no to that?
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thank you so much for reading! if you wanna chat about perv!matt x innocent!reader, or if you have any ideas for me just send them to my inbox. love you guys!
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TLDR: Obviously the article is right that none of this should drive people to fascism. But it is an anti intellectual exercise in letting capitalism off the hook.
I recommend the book The Righteous Mind, for reasons people don't pressure their own best interests (though I don't agree with its ultimate ideological conclusions), and the Contrapoints videos on J. K. Rowling and Envy, for resentment politics, reactionary movements, and cruelty. If you want something well articulated and that has sources. And you know what? Caliban and the Witch. Good points about many related topics.
Statista is always questionable, because they actively hide their own sources (exit polel) and I didn't see the described exit poll numbers in widely reported data.
https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2024-elections/exit-polls
https://www.cnn.com/election/2024/exit-polls/national-results/general/president/0
There's also stuff that just doesn't seem to be sourced?
While I would argue living paycheck to paycheck is voluntary after a certain income, and it may be technically true that "most" Americans don't live paycheck to paycheck, it's a little silly to act like it's made up when it is still ~ a quarter.
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/paycheck-to-paycheck-definition/
Also not sure what they mean by saying the median American has savings. How much? According to who? Again, ~ a quarter have less than $1000 saved.
Newsweek is not the most solid source, and their source is paywalled. Everywhere else I see says the question
https://bankingjournal.aba.com/2024/08/survey-one-in-four-americans-have-less-than-1000-in-savings/
I also don't see evidence the "average" American thinks Democrats are liberal. This article says it's 47%.
https://www.newsweek.com/democrats-liberal-voters-poll-1829683
https://mediabiasfactcheck.com/newsweek/
Newsweek isn't the most solid, and the other sources I see describe the question more as asking if the party is liberal, not "too" liberal, meaning that people who are saying it is may see it as a negative or a positive. A slim majority of Democrats consider themselves liberal as of 2020 (this seems to have been the furthest left option).
https://www.americansurveycenter.org/short-reads/more-americans-view-the-democratic-party-as-liberal/
https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2020/01/17/liberals-make-up-largest-share-of-democratic-voters/
Median household income (unsourced) seems to be correct.
https://www.census.gov/library/publications/2024/demo/p60-282.html
I can't find a 2024 source for the median income of Trump voters. In 2016, it was $72,000, and median US income was $56,000, at least according to this article, which links its source a little below, but that link unfortunately seems to be dead. Median was $61,000 for Clinton and Sanders in that election.
https://www.ft.com/content/6de668c7-64e9-4196-b2c5-9ceca966fe3f
Comparing this to global income without describing how the comparison is done is not even a factual claim, it's baseless rhetoric.
https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-us-recovery-from-covid-19-in-international-comparison/
It's not clear who the article thinks is the US's peer, or in what specific way we've recovered fast, so I'm going to pull up global info on economic recovery from covid.
This seems to be true, and I suspect due to similar pricing, this article in fact have lightly plagiarized Brookings by not citing it was their source.
If I'm reading this article correctly, we have recovered to pre-Covid, but not pre-recession, numbers.
As for wages keeping up with inflation, this seems to be somewhat true at absolute best. They've been rising, but adjusted for inflation, they're just kind of keeping up.
https://www.nbcnews.com/business/economy/inflation-higher-biden-rising-pay-makes-rcna158569
https://www.epi.org/publication/charting-wage-stagnation/
UK job seeker pay numbers are approximately correct, but they're not compared to the US, which is ridiculous. It is also important to note that in the UK, you might get any number of other benefits and support as well. I won't approximate these numbers, and I'm not approximating the numbers for SNAP either. The US pays anywhere from $10 to $974 (though this source isn't the best), depending on which state you're in, and how rich you were before. I can't imagine someone getting $10 thinking £71.70 is "preposterously low." Maybe they only spoke to rich Americans. Unemployment lasts 12-26 weeks, depending on the state. Job seekers lasts 26 weeks.
https://www.gov.uk/jobseekers-allowance
https://www.gov.uk/browse/benefits
https://www.gov.uk/jobseekers-allowance/eligibility
https://worldpopulationreview.com/state-rankings/unemployment-benefits-by-state
https://www.cbpp.org/research/economy/how-many-weeks-of-unemployment-compensation-are-available
https://www.cbpp.org/research/economy/how-many-weeks-of-unemployment-compensation-are-available
Many US stages still have a minimum wage of $7.25, because that is the federal wage. The minimum wage in the UK is more complicated, but it is currently £11.44 naturally for workers over 21. Their exceptions include trainees and prisoners. Ours include tipped workers (though the employer must make up tips to the minimum wage), some trainees, and people with disabilities, who can be paid by calculating what fraction of a non-disabled person they're worth. Neither country requires minimum wage for prisoners.
In the UK, you also get free healthcare, and if you do have to go out of pocket, my experience has been that you pay much, much less. There are more comprehensive comparisons out there, but I personally paid £80 for a drug that in the US costs $775.
https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/minimum-wage/state
https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/minimum-wage/faq
https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/fact-sheets/39-14c-subminimum-wage
https://www.gov.uk/national-minimum-wage-rates
https://www.gov.uk/national-minimum-wage/who-gets-the-minimum-wage
The average barista makes $15.23 (~31,67.00y) They earn approximately the same in the UK at £12.30 ($15.28 as of Feb 11, '25), (~£25,584y, or $31,700y as of Feb 11, '25). As for doctors general practitioners are paid $152,649 in the US, and £73,791 in the UK. A massive difference, yes, but not barista money in either case.
https://www.indeed.com/career/barista/salaries
https://uk.indeed.com/career/barista/salaries
https://www.indeed.com/career/general-practitioner/salaries
https://uk.indeed.com/career-advice/pay-salary/how-much-does-a-doctor-make
Ironically, saying that Americans are bad because we're soft is kind of fascist.
It's true Americans don't care very much about economic inequality as much as other factors.
https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2020/01/09/most-americans-say-there-is-too-much-economic-inequality-in-the-u-s-but-fewer-than-half-call-it-a-top-priority/
The article then cites a podcast, which has no obvious credentials or citations. The host says in the about they have an MA in political philosophy.
https://www.politicalphilosophypodcast.com/about
There are plenty of people who discuss this reactionary tendency, so this is strange as an only source, but I am not going to listen to it right now to find out if it's appealing to any particular biases. Here, there's even a podcast as a source, and it both names the expert interviewed and cites where it got its information. In writing. On the page.
https://www.vox.com/future-perfect-podcast/386100/2024-election-trump-republican-party-reactionary
In 2023, 36.8 million people, or 11.1% off the US, lived below the federal poverty line.
https://www.census.gov/newsroom/stories/poverty-awareness-month.html
Yes, incumbents have been doing badly.
https://apnews.com/article/global-elections-2024-incumbents-defeated-c80fbd4e667de86fe08aac025b333f95
In early '24, 72% of Americans felt they were doing okay financially.
https://www.npr.org/2024/05/22/1252712615/prices-americans-concern-economy-inflation-expenses
Yes, the economy is not in recession, because a recession hasn't been declared. There is money being made. "The top 10% richest households owning 93% of this public equity wealth." A recession is the way to describe the economy being bad that most people know. The term for when the economy is good, but only for the rich, I'm pretty sure that's just called capitalism. People aren't stupid for thinking the economy is bad. For most people, it is.
https://www.forbes.com/sites/dereksaul/2024/05/22/no-were-not-in-a-recession-but-heres-why-many-americans-feel-like-we-are/
https://www.businessinsider.com/personal-finance/investing/are-we-in-a-recession
https://www.cnbc.com/2019/12/11/americans-say-strong-economy-only-helping-the-rich.html
Describing reactionary politics as reactionary is not taking away agency from regressive movements, and that is a baffling thing to assert. It doesn't make being a regressive and a fascist not the person's own responsibility. Being a reactionary is a political stance you can choose not to take.
Being reactionary does not necessarily refer to overall goals, but it is easy to see how certain goals are selected at a given moment as a reaction to civil rights. This is the basics of examining a moral panic. These reactive tactics are tools actively manipulated for the underlying project and ideal of regression.
https://www.britannica.com/topic/reactionary-movement
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/pops.12983
https://tcf.org/content/report/the-politics-of-moral-panics/
I have no idea how to fact check this unsourced and vague claim about gendering the political parties. It seems possible, but I didn't see anything actually talking about it. There is a gender voting gap.
https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-growing-gender-gap-among-young-people/
What socialist left? Who? What did they say?
Wikipedia has Umberto Eco's famous definition /g list of traits. Including the contempt for the weak I called out in this very article. Regressiveism is also a key identifying factor. It's actually the entire first two. Appeals to populism as well.
The second link is the whole essay.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ur-Fascism?wprov=sfla1
https://archive.org/details/umberto-eco-ur-fascism
Pretending the current rise of fascism isn't part of a pattern is so anti-intellectual it might as well be propaganda.
https://vcresearch.berkeley.edu/news/fascism-shattered-europe-century-ago-and-historians-hear-echoes-today-us
The US may not like socialism, not they may also not know what it is. Supporting socialist policy but saying you hate socialism is a sign of being uninformed, not that socialism is doomed. It may be. Just price it better. 20% of the US thinks autocracy would be a good system, and 12% think the same about military rule. Only 82% of the US even likes democracy, and 49% percent for unexpected experts. They would rather have an unelected expert than an autocrat, but not by as much as one might hope. 36% of the US sees socialism positively, compared to capitalism at 57%. That's being down, but I think we'd all agree the pro autocracy wave has a chance.
https://www.pewresearch.org/global/2024/02/28/attitudes-toward-different-types-of-government-systems/
https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2022/09/19/modest-declines-in-positive-views-of-socialism-and-capitalism-in-u-s/
It seems like the argument is "Americans are selfish and entitled and don't deserve what we have, much less more equality" which is baffling from someone who just said socialism is unappealing. "You get what you get and you don't get upset" isn't a good lesson to teach children. It's certainly not radical progressive praxis.
Conflating delivery drivers with minimum wage workers with doctors is blatantly dishonest. "Currently, $7.09 per hour is the average pay for a food delivery worker in NYC." It's going up to $19.96, which is $41,516. IF you live in NYC. I believe this is part of graduated minimum wage pay raises that are now being applied to these workers. Elsewhere, delivery drivers may make much less.
Seems like autocratic contempt can be a historical pattern, and not "just stuff that happens." I wonder why that is. It's certainly not explained or sourced.
Oh it is just propaganda. Are they claiming that liberalism makes you immune to that?
"Balancing individualism and social obligation in careful tension immunizes the ideology’s adherents to the worst pathologies of prosperity. A rich liberal is often a preposterous creature; vain, overly impressed by their own intellect, affected in their politics, and more than a little hypocritical. But they are still light years away from the enthusiastic ignorance, performative cruelty, and zealous nihilism that await us in liberalism's absence."
Who was it who said people are becoming conservative not because they want to be rich but because they want to be mean? That shit was spot on
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The questions I ask myself, roughly in this order, to interpret any* tarot spread:
How did the cards appear? Because I shuffle for jumpers, it matters whether cards pop from the deck together. They form pairs (or groups) which have stronger connections to each other than other cards in the spread.
What types of cards are on the field? Majors? Minors? All numerical cards? Court cards? What suits? What numbers? This is where I consider the raw, memorized meaning of individual cards and the archetypes they represent.
Are there obvious patterns or cadences in the order? Think like poetry, ABAB or AABB, but with the types of cards. In a hand of five, it's interesting if the order is Major-Minor-Major-Minor-Major. Or maybe the cards are in a descending numerical order, Nine-Eight-Seven-Six-Five. Or, perhaps Nine-Eight-Six-Five-Four -- the jump in the pattern matters.
Are there repeating numbers or suits? Repetition strengthens the significance of a number's or suit's meaning.
Are there repeating motifs in the card art? Again, repetition strengthens the significance. This includes colors, background details, people, animals, and so forth.
Where are figures in the art looking? Are they looking at other cards? At each other? Away from each other? The direction of figures' attention directs where that card's focus might be.
Is there a cohesion or flow in the spread, or is it interrupted and disorganized? Some spreads flow smoothly left to right, while others show disruption and a lack of coherency. This question looks a the spread as a whole again after all other questions have been asked to consider all elements together.
Does it make sense? Do the cards answer the question being asked? How do they apply? Is there something missing? Is there a deeper meaning to delve into? Do I need clarifiers? Do I need to try again with new cards? Can I explain these cards to the querent and have them understand my meaning?
And then I write out my analysis! There's obviously more to it than this, with a ton of nuance at every step, and I could probably write a whole essay about any individual part of this... and I probably still will, honestly. (And I started to, then decided to just write up a little list instead, lmao.)
*May not work for some tarot spreads, depending on the style.
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FLUENT IN YOU WILLIAM EKLUND
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Summary :: William starts teaching you Swedish phrases
Warnings :: none
Word count :: 4.7k
It all started as a seemingly casual moment—a quiet afternoon, the two of you lounging together after a morning practice. William had been chatting with his teammates, speaking to them in Swedish, and you found yourself listening more intently than usual. You’d always had a soft spot for languages—how each one had its own rhythm, its own flow—but Swedish? It was different. You’d never really considered it before, but as the conversation continued, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to understand it. The way the words flowed from William’s lips, smooth and melodic, almost felt like music. You’d never really thought about how beautiful Swedish sounded before.
Your curiosity got the best of you. You’d been quiet, listening for a while, but you finally spoke up, breaking the spell that the conversation had cast. “Hey, I’ve got to ask—what exactly are you saying?” you asked, not sure what had prompted you to speak, but the fascination had taken hold. “It sounds so different… What does it mean?”
William glanced over at you, his grin widening slightly. It was that signature smile of his—playful and mischievous, as if he knew exactly what was coming next. He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your interest. “You want to know what we’re saying?” he asked, his voice teasing. “Well, I can tell you, but I have a better idea.”
You furrowed your brow, confused. “What do you mean?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in return.
Without missing a beat, William’s eyes sparkled with that characteristic mischievous glint. “Do you want me to teach you some Swedish?” he asked, the suggestion so sudden and effortless, it caught you off guard. “I promise, it’ll be fun. And I can teach you some useful phrases.”
You chuckled, still unsure of whether he was serious. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a whole new language,” you replied, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Swedish sounds so complicated. I mean, I can barely handle English half the time.” You let out a small sigh, almost as if you were talking yourself out of it. The thought of trying to tackle a completely new language, especially one as intricate as Swedish, was intimidating.
William’s grin didn’t falter in the slightest. If anything, it widened, like he was savoring the challenge of convincing you. “It’s not complicated, I promise,” he said, his tone full of certainty, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world. “And I’ll make it easy for you. Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher. Think of it like learning a secret language, just for us.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, and despite your initial hesitations, there was something about his offer that intrigued you. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was the way he said it, the twinkle in his eyes, the warmth in his voice. He made it sound like a game, something fun and lighthearted, a little adventure just for the two of you.
The idea of learning something new, especially with him by your side, felt appealing. Plus, the thought of sharing this private thing with him, something just between you and him, made it feel like an invitation to something deeper. You smiled, realizing you couldn’t resist the temptation.
“Alright,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “But don’t make fun of me when I mess up.”
William raised his hands in mock defense. “No promises there,” he teased, his grin turning even more mischievous. “But I’ll try to be nice.”
And that’s how you ended up here, sitting on his couch with a notebook in hand and a pen between your fingers, ready for your first lesson.
The afternoon sunlight poured through the window, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. The warmth of the light seemed to fill the space, adding to the quiet comfort of the moment. The living room felt peaceful, almost like a little bubble of calm in the midst of the day’s hustle. You sat on the couch, a notebook open on your lap, nervously clutching a pen, and tried to calm the fluttering in your chest.
Beside you, William seemed effortlessly at ease. His posture was relaxed, his legs stretched out, one arm resting casually along the back of the couch. The look on his face was one of someone who was completely comfortable in this setting, like a natural teacher with no hint of tension or hesitation. You, on the other hand, felt like a beginner in every sense of the word. The thought of speaking a new language, especially one you had never even considered before, made your nerves spike.
Still, you had agreed to this—you were here, ready to learn—and there was no one better than William to guide you through it. He had a way of making things feel effortless, even when you were still fumbling with the basics. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was meant to be fun, that you were here with him and that you didn’t need to be perfect. You were ready to dive in.
“So,” William said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts, his tone light and warm. He reached for his phone, swiping through a few screens as he set it aside, clearly preparing for the lesson. “Let’s start with the basics. Something simple to begin with.”
You nodded, feeling a little more relaxed now that he was diving in, and you could focus on the task ahead instead of your racing thoughts. “Okay, I’m all ears,” you said, managing a small smile, trying to settle your nerves. “Hit me with it.”
He shifted slightly, facing you fully now, his eyes soft with amusement and that familiar playfulness that always made you feel at ease. “Alright, here’s where we start,” he said with a small smirk. “‘I love you.’”
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected phrase. The seriousness of it made your heart skip a beat. “Wait… what?” you asked, chuckling nervously, hoping to brush off the sudden rush of heat that rose to your cheeks. “We’re starting with ‘I love you’?”
William’s grin only grew wider, a playful gleam dancing in his eyes. It was the kind of grin that you knew all too well—one that promised both mischief and something deeper. “Why not?” he replied, his voice light but earnest. “It’s essential, don’t you think? And, I’ll teach you how to say it properly so you can tell me in my language.”
Your mouth parted in surprise, a laugh escaping you at how bold he was being. “You’re really starting with that, huh?” you said, trying to mask the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his words.
William didn’t miss a beat. He simply nodded, his expression softening slightly, though that mischievous smile never quite left. “Yep. You’ve got to know how to say it, especially if I’m going to teach you this secret language.” His tone became quieter, almost a little more serious. “You’ll want to know how to tell me.”
His words struck you in a way that you didn’t expect. Something about the way he said it, the warmth in his voice and the sincerity in his gaze, made the simple sentence carry far more weight than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t just a language lesson anymore—it was something personal, something shared. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, and it wasn’t just from the sunlight streaming in through the window.
William cleared his throat and then spoke the phrase slowly, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. “Jag älskar dig,” he said gently, as if offering you a glimpse into something meaningful and intimate. He repeated it again, his voice soft but firm, emphasizing each syllable, letting the words linger between you. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your every reaction, as if he were both teaching and sharing something important at the same time.
You swallowed, focusing intently on his pronunciation, trying to absorb the foreign sounds and make them your own. “Yahg… ehl-skar deeg?” you said, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar sounds, your voice a little unsure.
William didn’t laugh or make you feel embarrassed, though. Instead, his eyes softened with pride, and he offered a small nod of approval. “Close,” he said, his voice warm and patient. “You’ve got the right idea. Let’s try again, but slower this time.”
You took a deep breath, your heart still fluttering in your chest but feeling more determined now. You wanted to get it right, to do this properly, for him, for yourself. You repeated the words again, more slowly this time, focusing on the rhythm and the softness of the syllables. “Jag älskar dig.”
When you finished, you glanced up at William, your eyes meeting his. The pride in his expression made your heart swell. He was watching you so closely, his gaze soft yet filled with affection. “Perfect,” he exclaimed, his voice sincere, lighting up with warmth. “That’s it. You’re a natural.”
A laugh escaped you, the sound both relieved and a little awestruck. It wasn’t just that you’d gotten the pronunciation right—it was the way William had looked at you. His words weren’t just about the lesson. There was something in his eyes, a deeper meaning behind the praise, and it made the flutter in your chest return with a force that left you speechless. It was as if he was genuinely proud of you, not just for speaking a foreign language, but for being there with him, sharing this experience together. You couldn’t help but feel like you were learning more than just Swedish in that moment.
You gave him a small, shy smile. “I didn’t think I’d be saying ‘I love you’ so soon,” you teased, though the words felt strangely significant in your mouth, like they carried more weight than you expected.
William’s grin softened, his eyes locking with yours as he gave a small, almost intimate shrug. “I think you needed to learn it. You’ll use it one day, I’m sure of it,” he said, his tone quieter now, as if the moment was more than just about the words. There was something deeper there, a silent acknowledgment that this lesson was a bridge between the two of you—a connection built on shared words, shared meaning.
With the first phrase under your belt, William’s playful side began to surface. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and the lesson lightened. You no longer felt the pressure to be perfect with your pronunciation, and you both started to enjoy the learning process more. Each time you stumbled over a word, William would smile and encourage you, never making you feel self-conscious. Instead, his laughter would fill the room, and the entire lesson felt less like work and more like a fun game.
“Okay, now for something really important,” William said, a mischievous gleam lighting up his eyes as he leaned toward you, clearly about to spring something unexpected on you.
You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”
William’s grin widened, if possible. “I’m going to teach you something every person should know.”
You chuckled, leaning back slightly, not sure if he was being serious. “What’s that?”
He gave you an exaggerated serious look before breaking into a grin. “It’s ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, what?” you asked, your voice filled with both confusion and amusement. “Are you serious?”
William’s grin only grew, and you could tell from the playful twinkle in his eyes that he was definitely messing with you. “Yes. This is a vital sentence,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “You never know when you might need to tell someone your cat is wearing a crown.”
You stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was truly serious or if this was just part of his playful charm. “You’re kidding, right?” you asked, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all.
He shook his head with mock indignation, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Nope, not kidding. This is real knowledge. You have to be prepared for anything.” He raised an eyebrow in playful challenge. “Min katt har en krona.”
You stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. The phrase was entirely new to you, the sounds unfamiliar, and you didn’t immediately know how to translate it. William gave you a moment to digest the words, and when he saw your slightly confused expression, he added with a wink, “It means ‘My cat is wearing a crown.’”
You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, your mind processing the absurdity of the phrase he was teaching you. “Wait… so that’s what we’re learning? Really?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Absolutely. It’s important to know. Imagine a situation where you need to tell someone that your cat is wearing a crown and you don’t know how. What then?”
You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’m not sure when this situation would ever come up, but okay. If you say so…”
“Try it,” he encouraged, clearly having far too much fun with this. “Say it, and you’ll be ready for anything.”
Still laughing, you focused on the phrase, trying to repeat it, though you were struggling to get the pronunciation right. You said, “Min katt har en… krona?”
It wasn’t perfect, but you gave it your best shot. The sounds felt strange on your tongue, and you could feel yourself stumbling over some of the unfamiliar words, but you didn’t mind. William’s face lit up when he heard it, and he burst into laughter, clearly delighted by your attempt.
“Perfect! That was great!” he said, clearly entertained by how seriously you’d tried to say it. “Now, you’re ready for anything.”
You laughed with him, shaking your head at the silliness of it all. “I’m glad I’m prepared to tell someone my cat is wearing a crown,” you said, still amused at how absurd the entire lesson was. “I feel so much more… equipped for life now.”
“Exactly!” William said, still chuckling. “You never know when it’ll come in handy, right?”
You both laughed together, the sound of it filling the room and making you feel more at ease than you had been when the lesson first started. The tension that had come with trying to master the new language had faded, replaced by a lightness, a sense of ease, as the lesson turned into a shared joke between the two of you. The whole thing felt so carefree—no pressure, no expectation, just the joy of being in this moment together, laughing and learning at the same time.
As the laughter settled down, you glanced up at William, your heart lighter than it had been all day. You realized that this wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about something deeper. The way he made the lesson feel personal, how he’d managed to turn an absurd sentence into a moment of connection, was more meaningful than you realized.
You smiled, looking at him with appreciation. “Thanks for the lesson. You definitely know how to make it fun,” you said, feeling genuinely happy with how things had gone.
William gave you a warm smile, his eyes softening with affection. “Anytime,” he said, his voice quieter now, filled with warmth. “I’ll always make sure you’re ready, no matter what.”
As the lesson went on, the initial nerves you had felt started to melt away completely. William’s presence beside you was steady and reassuring, his focus entirely on you. There was something incredibly calming about the way he interacted with you—no rush, no judgment, just the quiet encouragement of someone who genuinely wanted you to succeed. Each phrase you learned, each new word you mastered, felt like a small victory, and with every accomplishment, you felt more connected to the language and, surprisingly, to William himself.
The words were still unfamiliar on your tongue, the sounds sometimes difficult to wrap your mouth around, but every time you stumbled, William was there with a smile and a gentle correction. He never made you feel self-conscious about your mistakes. Instead, he made each misstep feel like a part of the learning process, something to laugh about together rather than a failure. His encouragement felt like a soft anchor in the sea of newness, and with every word you said, you felt more at home in his presence.
But then, just as you were beginning to settle into the rhythm of the lesson, something shifted. William’s tone, which had been light and playful, softened. His usual teasing smile faded into something more sincere, more intimate. His eyes, which had always been warm and inviting, became even more focused, and there was a quiet intensity behind his gaze that made you pause. You looked up at him, suddenly aware of how close you both were on the couch, the space between you feeling smaller than before.
“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice quieter now. There was a tenderness in his words that you hadn’t noticed before. His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a flutter in your chest, something deeper than the simple joy of learning. “Now, let me teach you something I really want you to know.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his tone. You couldn’t tell whether he was still talking about the lesson or if there was something more in the words he was about to say. It felt like this was no longer just about Swedish—there was something unspoken, something in the air between you that made everything feel different.
You looked up at him, your voice soft as you asked, “What is it?”
He paused, as if carefully considering his next words. When he spoke again, his voice was even more gentle, almost like he was sharing a secret with you, something that mattered deeply. “It’s Du gör mig lycklig,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that felt intimate, personal. His eyes softened, and the intensity in them grew, making your pulse quicken. “It means ‘You make me happy.’”
You repeated the phrase after him, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to absorb the new sounds. “Du gör mig lycklig.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, but they were beautiful in their simplicity. And as you said them, something about their meaning sank deeper into your chest—more than just the translation, more than the language itself. The weight of the phrase, the truth in it, settled in the quiet space between you.
William’s smile returned, but it was different this time. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was something warmer, more tender, as if he was allowing you to see a side of him that was rarely exposed. He nodded at you in approval, his eyes full of affection. “Perfect,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You make me happy too, you know?”
Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his words hitting you harder than you expected. The phrase—Du gör mig lycklig—suddenly felt like more than just words. It felt like a declaration, a shared moment of truth between you two. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish; it was about the way William was making you feel. It was about the way his words reached you, deeper than you had expected, and how they seemed to confirm something you hadn’t fully realized until now: that he truly cared about you, not just as a student, but as something more.
You looked into his eyes, the words carrying more weight than just the language itself. It wasn’t just about learning Swedish—it was about the way he was making you feel.
The lesson continued, but it was clear that something had shifted in the air between you. The words you were learning, the phrases you were repeating, had begun to feel more significant, more personal. As William guided you through each new phrase, there was an unspoken understanding building between the two of you. It wasn’t just about the language anymore—it was about something deeper, something more intimate. With every word, you found yourself drawn closer to him, and each time he smiled at you, each encouraging glance, made your heart beat just a little faster.
The afternoon light cast a warm glow over the room, the soft golden beams drifting through the windows, wrapping around you both in a quiet embrace. The room felt still, the world outside fading away as you focused entirely on William and the lesson that had taken on a new depth. You felt his presence next to you more than ever—the way he was so attuned to you, how his every word seemed to draw you closer. The distance between you, both physically and emotionally, seemed to shrink with each passing minute.
William’s voice softened, no longer the lighthearted tone of a teacher, but something deeper, more meaningful. He moved just a little closer, his eyes locking with yours, and there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure what it was, but you could feel the change, the moment that you both seemed to cross a line into something more.
“I think you’re ready for the final lesson,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though the words were meant just for you. The air between you both seemed to thicken, the tension building in a way that had nothing to do with the language itself. “This one is very important.”
Your breath hitched at the softness in his tone, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. You couldn’t help the way your heart began to race a little faster, the quiet anticipation settling in your veins. “What’s that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, though you tried to keep it steady.
William’s lips curled into a smile, one that seemed to carry all the warmth and affection he had for you. Slowly, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice lowering even more as he spoke the words. “It’s Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” he said gently, his words lingering in the air, their meaning settling over you like a soft blanket. “It means, ‘I’m so happy you’re here with me.’”
You repeated the phrase after him, the words feeling both foreign and incredibly meaningful. “Jag är så glad att du är här med mig.” The words felt like a promise, like something more than just a translation. As you said them, you felt them resonate deeply within you, a quiet acknowledgment of how much this moment, this connection, meant to you.
William’s eyes softened as he listened to you, the smile on his face turning tender. He nodded slowly, his pride clear in the way he looked at you. “You’re really getting it now,” he said, his voice thick with meaning, as though the words carried more weight than they ever had before.
You could feel William’s gaze on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seemed to vanish—there was nothing but him, his eyes locked onto yours with a softness that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you blurred, the faint hum of the room fading into nothingness as the space between you seemed to shrink. The warmth of the sunlight still filled the room, but it felt like it had settled around you both, enveloping you in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.
William’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a hint of something deeper in them that made your breath catch. He reached out slowly, as if the very act was deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. His hand, warm and steady, gently cupped your cheek, the touch light but firm, grounding you in the present. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, and it was as though the whole world had stopped moving. Every other thought, every lingering doubt, disappeared in the wake of his touch. His hand on your cheek felt like an unspoken invitation, a promise without words—inviting you closer, drawing you into a space where the world beyond didn’t matter.
Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat thudding louder as you held his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away. It felt like an electric charge in the air, a current of something that you both couldn’t deny. The closeness between you seemed to grow with every breath, the space between you becoming smaller and smaller, and it was impossible to ignore the heat that flared between you. Every inch of your body seemed to lean into him, drawn in by the quiet force of his presence.
“Jag är så glad att du är här med mig,” William whispered, his voice lower now, soft like velvet, a careful, deliberate sweetness in the way the words left his lips. The phrase, one you had just learned, felt even more powerful in that moment as he repeated it, the quiet intensity in his voice carrying a depth that took you by surprise. You could feel the sincerity behind the words, the warmth of them, as they seemed to hang in the air between you.
Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. He leaned in closer, and everything inside you felt like it was suspended in time—your heart, your breath, the very air itself. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, soft and warm, each inhale and exhale blending together as the distance between you vanished entirely. It was as though your bodies were pulling toward one another, as if you were being drawn into a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that this was where you were meant to be.
And then, the moment stretched out, just a fraction longer before he closed the distance, his lips brushing gently against yours. The kiss was slow, soft—a tender exploration that felt more like a conversation than a gesture. His lips were warm, almost impossibly soft against yours, as though he was savoring the moment as much as you were. The kiss wasn’t rushed, there was no urgency—just the quiet, intimate connection between the two of you, full of meaning and unspoken words.
Each second of the kiss felt like it held everything—the lessons, the laughter, the connection you had been building over time. It was as though this kiss was the culmination of everything that had come before it, all of those little moments of vulnerability, those shared smiles and glances, now woven together into something undeniable. His lips were so gentle against yours, the sweetness of the kiss lingering even after he pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours.
For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that—close, your foreheads touching, your hearts still racing in time with one another. The softness of his breath brushed against your skin, and the space between you both was filled with a quiet intimacy that made everything else feel distant, unimportant. There was only him, only this moment, and it felt like everything in the world had led you to this.
When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his eyes fluttering open and meeting yours, you were both breathing softly, as if the world had slowed down to a gentle pace. You couldn’t find the words at first. Your chest felt tight, your heart still beating faster than normal, and everything in you was full of warmth—of something more than just the kiss, more than the lesson. It was something that lingered in the space between you, something that felt unspoken yet understood completely.
“I’m so glad you’re here with me, too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, and it felt like the words had been there, waiting to be said. You realized then that it wasn’t just about the Swedish phrase anymore—it was about the truth you had found in each other, the connection that had deepened without either of you needing to say anything more.
William smiled, his eyes warm and full of affection as he met your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything more, but the way his fingers brushed against your cheek, the way he pulled you just a little closer, spoke volumes. “Always,” he said softly, his voice rich with meaning. “You’re always welcome here, älskling (darling). Always.”
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please do bballplayer!yujin x cheerleader!reader. i love your fics so muchhhhg😚😚
SMACK THAT ──── ahn yujin.
── ( 🏀 ) in a world where cheerleaders and athletes are seen as allies, your world turns upside down when a heated clash with the stunning captain of the women's basketball team, ahn yujin, ignites a fiery passion that threatens to turn rivalry into something much wilder that leaves you questioning your loyalties—and igniting a burning desire that neither of you can resist.
pairing. bratty dom!basketball player!ahn yujin x sub!cheerleader!fem reader
warning(s). cum eating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, semi exhibitionism, squirting.
word count. 5,5k
the move was a whirlwind. boxes overflowing with your life were crammed into the back of your parents’ car, the goodbye hugs from your friends lingered in the air, and the endless miles of highway blurred into a monotonous landscape. new house, new neighborhood, new faces — it was all a bit overwhelming. but the biggest hurdle, the one that filled you with a quiet dread, was the new school.
surprisingly, it wasn’t the social apocalypse you’d envisioned. your classmates were… tolerable. the teachers seemed genuinely invested in their subjects. the school itself was modern and well–equipped. the problem, as always, was sports. or rather, the mandatory sports selection. unlike your old school, where PE was a shared misery endured by all, here you had to choose a specific athletic activity. a cold sweat prickled your skin. this was your everest.
you didn’t even like sports. what could you do? in elementary school your classmates always hated teaming up with you because you had no interest in participating in class or playing the silliest sports and games.
you’d always been the kid picked last. the clumsy one. the one who tripped over air and whose athletic contributions usually involved apologizing profusely. elementary school recess was a blur of mortification, the crushing weight of your teammates’ disappointment a constant companion. the thought of reliving those days made your stomach churn.
lunchtimes became a minefield of awkward conversation and forced smiles. afternoons were spent strategically avoiding the gym, the fields, anywhere remotely athletic. you were a ghost, flitting through the hallways, desperate for a safe haven in a world that seemed obsessed with athleticism.
during lunch on your third day, you sought refuge in the near–empty classroom during recess, hunched over your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you texted yizhuo, your best friend from your old school. you typed furiously, lamenting your predicament: “it’s literally sports or nothing. what am i supposed to do, zhuo? fake an injury for the entire year?”
suddenly, as you waited for her reply, a shadow fell across your phone screen. you looked up to see a girl standing before you, a beacon of bright red hair and an even brighter smile. she was tall, with a lithe, athletic build, and an almost cartoonishly cute bunny smile.
“hey.” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “i’m yuna. me and the girls… we saw you’ve been having a little trouble figuring out the whole sports thing.”
you shifted uncomfortably, feeling your cheeks flush. “yeah, you could say that.”
yuna’s smile widened. “so, listen. well, we might have a solution. the cheerleading team is thinking about opening auditions to add a new member this year, and we thought… well, we thought you might be interested. it’s kind of a secret right now, but we thought you might be interested. before everyone else finds out and the tryouts are even harder.”
cheerleading? you blinked, completely taken aback. you? a cheerleader? you’d never considered cheerleading. the idea seemed so absurd, so utterly out of character, that you almost laughed. it wasn’t exactly graceful, but maybe, just maybe, it was something you could do. but the desperation in your heart outweighed the absurdity. any port in a storm, right?
“i… i don’t know, yuna.” you stammered. “i’m not exactly known for my athleticism.”
yuna waved a dismissive hand. “don’t worry about that.” yuna said, her voice reassuring. “we can teach you everything. just… give it a try?”
what did you have to lose? at least this was better than the embarrassment of fumbling your way through a soccer game or, heaven forbid, trying to dribble a basketball.
you looked into her bright eyes, saw the genuine kindness there, and something inside you cracked. “okay…” you breathed. “okay, i’ll try.”
yuna squealed with delight, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. “great! c’mon, the girls are waiting!”
she practically dragged you across the campus, her energy infectious. you ended up on the sidelines of the university’s athletic fields, next to the basketball court. a group of girls was laughing and chatting amongst themselves.
“guys, this is… umh…” yuna trailed off, realizing she hadn’t actually asked your name.
“it’s (y/n).” you supplied, feeling your cheeks flush.
“okay, (y/n)–ssi. this is chaewon, karina, and wonyoung.” yuna beamed, gesturing to each girl in turn. they all greeted you with warm smiles and polite introductions, instantly making you feel more at ease.
yuna introduced them with a flourish: chaewon, all boundless energy and infectious enthusiasm; karina, radiating warmth and a mischievous glint in her eyes; and wonyoung, with her quiet confidence and elegant demeanor. they welcomed you with genuine smiles and polite introductions, making you feel instantly at ease.
“sometimes other girls join for practices.” yuna continued, “but the four of us are usually the main cheerleaders during the games.”
“welcome to the cheerleading squad where there's free entertainment.” chaewon joked.
as if on cue, a chorus of giggles erupted from the bleachers overlooking the basketball court. you glanced over to see a group of girls huddled together, their eyes fixed on your group. even from a distance, you could sense their amusement.
wonyoung rolled her eyes. “ugh, it’s them. don’t mind them.” she said dismissively. “that’s the basketball team.”
yuna, who followed wonyoung’s gaze almost immediately, can’t help but let out a scoff at the sight of the basketball team, sweeping them with her gaze in the dirtiest way: you wouldn’t lie, if she did the same thing to you, you probably would have peed your pants and fainted from embarrassment right then and there. “they think they’re so cool.”
you looked closer. you didn’t recognize any of them, which wasn’t surprising, given you were still practically a stranger. but they certainly looked like they belonged: athletic builds, confident swagger, and an air of effortless cool. they weren’t all dressed in athletic wear — some wore their school uniforms, others casual clothing.
then you noticed something else. two girls with short, dark hair were playfully shoving the shoulders of a taller girl with wide, puppy–dog eyes who was wearing her cap backwards. smirks danced on their faces as two other girls murmured things to the other three.
and then they looked at you. a not–so–disguised look, filled with a mixture of amusement and something you couldn’y quite place. you felt your stomach clench.
wonyoung scoffed. “yeah.” she muttered, “typical losers.” she proceeded to give you a rundown of the team: kazuha, ryujin, yujin, yunjin, and a girl nicknamed “winter.”, whose real name was minjeong, but apparently only her close friends used it. she painted them as the stereotypical jocks, surrounded by adoring admirers, whose lives revolved around basketball and popularity.
“they’re like the typical frat boys or playboys in the movies, you know?” yuna added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “except, you know, girls.”
the way wonyoung and yuna talked about them, trading gossip and inside jokes, made it clear that this wasn’t just casual observation. there was a history there, a rivalry, maybe even a touch of… something else.
karina, sensing your unease, stepped forward with a warm smile. “don’t worry about them. we’re happy to have you. hey, why don’t you join us later? the school gym will be free, and you can show us what you’ve got.” her tone was casual, but the intensity in her gaze made it clear: they wanted you. not just on the team, but… well, you weren’t sure what else.
and so it was. that afternoon, you found yourself in the echoing expanse of the school gym, attempting to contort your body into positions it hadn’t seen since… well, never. the girls patiently guided you through stretches, jumps, and basic tumbling, their encouragement a welcome balm to your self–consciousness. after testing your skills and flexibility, the four girls welcomed you into the team with open arms.
of course, since you were still a newbie, they told you that at first it would be better if you were not the one who was the “flyer” (the athlete who is lifted into the air during a stunt or pyramid) when they did the group stunts, putting yourself together with another of the girls as “bases” (the athletes that hold the flyer or “top girl” in the air during the stunt) until you gained enough confidence to take on the more challenging role, but in this case, wonyoung and yuna would be the main ones that would catch you, since they were the ones with more training and experience than the other two, they knowing how to grab or hold you when you didn’t have much experience or confidence.
cheerleading practice quickly became the highlight of your day. the girls were supportive and encouraging, and you found yourself enjoying the challenge of learning new skills. you even started to feel… dare you say it… athletic?
practices quickly became routine, a bizarre mix of grueling physical exertion and surprisingly fun camaraderie. you learned to trust your teammates, to rely on their strength and support, both literally and figuratively. you even started to enjoy the challenge, the feeling of pushing your body beyond its perceived limits.
the basketball team, however, remained a constant, and unwelcome, presence. karina explained that since the cheerleaders preferred to train outside on the basketball court because it was better than the stinky gym, so it was obvious that you would see the basketball players around here.
their behavior was bizarre. you felt like they were like perverts, wearing their stupid jerseys and basketball pants along with those backwards caps, having smirks or shit–eating grins and seemed to be enjoying themselves every time the cheerleaders practiced. you caught them smirking and exchanging knowing glances, like they were in on some private joke.
yujin’s gaze, in particular, made you uneasy. you always felt her eyes on you, burning a hole in your back. whenever you were the flyer, you could hear her teammates cheering her on, clapping her back, and pushing her shoulders towards the basket. whenever you looked over your shoulder at her or turned around you saw her eyes quickly move from your ass to your face, grinning or biting her lip to avoid a smirk, her grin a mix of amusement and… something else you couldn’t quite decipher.
one night, you were at a party, trying to navigate the crowded dance floor, when a ridiculously handsome guy approached you. he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass.
“hey.” he said, his eyes sparkling. “my friend wants to kiss you.”
you felt a jolt of surprise, followed by a surge of nervous excitement. he gestured behind you, stepping aside so you could see who his friend was. your smile faltered. the excitement evaporated.
standing a few feet away, surrounded by a gaggle of friends and the ubiquitous basketball team, was yujin. she’s smiling even with her eyes, holding a can of beer while the other idiots chant her name and push her by the shoulders between them, pushing her forward, the backward cap casting a shadow over her eyes.
that cap, that oversized hoodie, those baggy jeans, those beat–up converse sneakers… suddenly, you found yourself noticing the curve of her jaw, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the confident swagger in her posture.
wait a minute…were you drooling over ahn yujin? your own consciousness shook you back to reality. it couldn’t be, could it?
you glared at the well–meaning messenger and abruptly turned away, heading back to your group of friends. but even over the noise of the party, you could hear the sound of your name being called, followed by a wave of raucous laughter.
the air crackled with nervous energy. you straightened your new cheer uniform, the fabric feeling stiff and unfamiliar against your skin. the basketball game was about to start, a cacophony of cheers and shouts already echoing from the stands. you were still new to this whole cheerleading thing, still trying to memorize the routines, still acutely aware of yujin’s persistent gaze.
as you made your way to the court, practically vibrating with apprehension, a familiar figure blocked your path. ahn yujin, radiating cocky confidence, stood grinning in front of you. her backwards cap cast a shadow over her mischievous eyes, which sparkled with amusement.
“well, well, look who it is…” she drawled, her voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine against your will. “hey there, cheerleader. heard you’re heading in. gonna cheer me on, huh?”
you crossed your arms, trying to project an air of indifference you definitely didn’t feel. “don’t flatter yourself. i’m here to support the team, not you specifically.”
yujin chuckled, a sound that was somehow both infuriating and strangely appealing. “sure you are. but i know you’ve been thinking about me. a lot, probably.”
“in your dreams.” you scoffed, but your cheeks betrayed you with a telltale flush.
“oh, i have plenty of dreams.” yujin said, her eyes gleaming suggestively. “and you’re in most of them. wearing that little skirt, too.”
“okay, pervert alert.” you muttered, rolling your eyes. although you tried to avoid it, your cheeks slowly began to turn a reddish color. you hated how she could easily have an effect on you.
yujin laughed, undeterred. “listen, about that kiss…”
it doesn’t take long for your brain to work to understand what she’s talking about. of course, that kiss that her friend asked you for at that party — honestly, you thought they were just joking around and looking to annoy and piss someone off to pass the time, but knowing yujin’s reputation, you knew she wasn’t entirely joking.
“don’t even start.” you snapped. “i don’t owe you anything.”
“oh, i think you do.” she chuckled, her voice low and teasing. “you love playing hard to get; i admire that about you.”
“c’mon~...” she persisted, stepping closer. “why don’t we make it interesting? a little wager, maybe?”
you raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “what kind of wager?”
“if we win today, you’ll give me a kiss. a real one. aand if we lose…” she paused, leaning in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “... i’ll stop bothering you. completely. no more staring, no more teasing, no more showing up at cheer practice just to make you blush. deal?”
the offer was tempting, ridiculously tempting. the thought of yujin’s attention, her constant presence, finally fading away was almost a relief. but the idea of actually kissing her… despite the annoyance, the frustration, the undeniable fact that she was a major pain in the ass, a thrill shot through you.
the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “you’re on.” you tried to sound confident, but you were sure your voice quivered slightly. “and if you cheat, i get to pick your punishment.” you added, a smirk playing on your lips.
yujin grinned, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “deal. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
“fine.” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “but don’t expect me to pucker up. you’re going down.”
“we’ll see about that.” yujin whispered, her grin widening as she turned and jogged towards the court. “see you after the game, babe.”
you watched her go, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d just made a bet with the biggest flirt in school, a bet that could end with you kissing her or, blissfully, never having to deal with her again.
the game was a blur of squeaking sneakers, bouncing balls, and roaring crowds. you tried to focus on the cheer routines, but your eyes kept drifting back to yujin. she played with an intensity that was mesmerizing, a raw energy that crackled in the air. every time yujin made a perfect shot, which was often, she’d blow a kiss in your direction, her eyes sparkling with triumph.
and then, it happened. the final buzzer sounded, the score displayed in bright, unforgiving numbers on the scoreboard. they had won. and not just won, but dominated. yujin, MVP, was grinning triumphantly, her gaze locked on you.
your stomach dropped. you had lost. you owed yujin a kiss.
fueled by a mixture of anger and mortification, you practically stormed toward the locker room after the game, yujin hot on your heels.
you slammed the locker room door behind you, breathing heavily. you leaned against it, trying to calm your racing heart.
then, the door creaked open. yujin sauntered in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “running away?” she teased, easily catching up to you. “i thought you were the feisty type.”
“shut up, ahn.” you snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “you wouldn’t stop annoying me and now what? are you happy for winning?”
she grinned, thoroughly enjoying your anger. “extremely, yes.” she admitted, taking a step closer.
"this is ridiculous.” you protested, crossing your arms. “it was just a stupid bet.”
“a bet is a bet.” yujin said, stepping closer. “and i won fair and square.”
“you cheated somehow, i know it.” you accused, your voice rising slightly.
yujin laughed, shaking her head. “jealous much? I'm just that good, baby.”
“don’t call me baby.” you snapped, your cheeks burning.
“why not?” yujin teased, closing the distance between you. “you like it when i call you that.”
“i do not!” you retorted, but the lie hung in the air between you.
yujin stopped right in front of you, her gaze intense. “you’re so cute when you’re angry.” she murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.
you glared at her, your fists clenched. “i’m not kissing you.”
“oh, i think you are.” she whispered, her voice laced with playful challenge. “unless you’re going to chicken out?”
that was all it took. you grabbed her by the collar of her jersey and pulled her in. your lips crashed together in a kiss that was far more heated and desperate than you had anticipated. you were angry, frustrated, and caught up in a moment of reckless abandon.
yujin moaned softly, her hand cupping your face as she deepened the kiss. your own arms reached up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. the kiss was electric, a rush of heat and sensation that made your head spin.
you lost yourself in her, the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against yours. her hands moved down your back, pulling you impossibly closer, and you gasped against her mouth.
the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. you felt your own body responding, your need for her growing with each passing second. her hands slipped under your cheerleading top, tracing the curve of your waist, and you moaned against her lips.
you were both breathless, desperate. you wanted more, needed more.
yujin pulled back slightly, her chest heaving as her eyes, dark with desire, looked into yours. “i still have a few minutes before my post–game interview, do you want to...?”
“just fuck me already, yujin.”
the locker room was dimly lit and empty, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the distant echo of cheers from the basketball court outside. yujin backed you up against the wall, caging you in with her arms on either side of your head. she leaned in until her lips were a mere whisper from yours, her breath hot against your skin.
“this will be your way of paying me back for taking so long to give me what you owed me.” she breathed, before capturing your mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. her lips moved demandingly against yours, her tongue delving past your teeth to explore the warm cavern of your mouth. yujin kissed like she did everything else — with wild, reckless abandon.
one hand slid up to tangle in your hair combed in a half ponytail, tugging lightly as she deepened the kiss, while the other gripped your hip, pulling your body flush against the hard planes of her own. you could feel every inch of her lithe, toned physique pressed against you, from her plush breasts to the lean muscles of her stomach and thighs.
yujin broke the kiss with a soft, wicked laugh, smirking down at your undoubtedly kiss–swollen lips and dazed expression. she licked her lips, tasting you on them. “fuck, you taste even better than i thought you would.” she praised, her voice a low, seductive rasp. “i’m going to have so much fun ruining you, baby.”
“just—... try not to mess up my uniform too much. you know, my team will suspect things if they see me leaving here in a bad state with you.”
obviously. both the cheerleading team and the basketball team, as soon as the game ended, you two headed to the dresses in the blink of an eye. of course, your initial intentions were clearly not to be alone to fuck the girl who was always trying to piss you off on purpose by flirting with you… maybe in part yes, but you wouldn't admit it out loud!
yujin threw her head back and laughed, a rich, throaty sound that echoed off the locker room walls. she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with amusement and lust. her hand slid from your hip to your ass, giving it a firm, possessive squeeze.
“oh, baby, don’t worry about your cute cheerleader outfit. i’ll make sure you're presentable enough for your squad...eventually.” she purred, her voice dripping with wicked promise. “but first, i’m going to mess you up in ways you’ve never been messed up before.”
with that declaration, yujin crashed her lips back onto yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. her tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating you, claiming you. she kissed you like she owned you, like you belonged to her.
yujin’s hands slid under your cheerleading top, pushing it up and over your chest. she broke the kiss just long enough to yank the garment off over your head and toss it carelessly to the side. her fingers found your breasts, palming the soft mounds, feeling the stiff peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.
yujin attacked your neck with bites and kisses, sucking dark marks into your skin. her teeth grazed your pulse point, and she licked over it, feeling it jump beneath her tongue. one hand slid down your stomach to the waistband of your cheer shorts, slipping inside to cup your mound.
“you’re already so fucking wet, aren’t you?” yujin breathed against your neck, her fingers rubbing your clothed slit, feeling the dampness seeping through. she nipped at your earlobe and whispered. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll take good care of this cute pussy… once i’m done playing with it.”
she punctuated her words by shoving your cheer shorts and panties down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. cool air hit your heated skin, but it was quickly replaced by the scorching heat of yujin’s fingers as they pushed between your legs and found your naked, dripping sex.
yujin groaned softly against your neck as she felt your slick folds, your arousal coating her fingers. she circled your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck forward, seeking more of that delicious friction.
“that’t it, baby. grind on my fingers just like that.” yujin encouraged, her voice with a low, seductive murmur. she slid one long finger inside your tight heat, feeling your walls clench around the intrusion. she pumped it slowly, shallowly, teasing you with the promise of more.
her other hand pushed down the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air. yujin’s mouth found your nipple, drawing it into her hot mouth and suckling greedily. she licked and bit at the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
yujin added a second finger, pumping them faster, harder, curling them to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. her palm pressed against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with the plunging of her fingers.
she could feel your body tensing, your muscles tightening as your orgasm approached. yujin knew your body better than you knew it yourself. she could feel the fluttering of your walls, the way your breathing grew ragged and shallow.
just as you were about to tumble over the edge, yujin pulled her fingers out of you and stepped back. she brought her soaked fingers to her mouth, sucking your essence from them with a moan of appreciation.
“fuck, you taste divine.” yujin praised, her eyes dark and hungry as she looked at your disheveled, desperate form. she licked her lips, savoring your flavor.
the sudden emptiness inside you made you open your eyes. rilting your head still against the wall behind you, you look at her with half–lidded eyes, still somewhat shaken from your near–orgasm. “why did you stop?”
yujin smirked at your breathless, frustrated question. she could see the desperation in your eyes, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. she loved reducing you to this state of need, knowing that she held the power to give you the pleasure you craved… or deny it.
“shhh, baby. patience.” yujin cooed, trailing her fingers teasingly along your inner thigh, staying maddeningly far from your aching core. “i stopped because i want to taste you. i want to bury my face between your thighs and devour this sweet cunt until you’re screaming my name.”
yujin gripped your thighs, pushing them further apart as she sank to her knees before you. she looked up at you through sooty lashes and with a wicked and hungry grin, her dark eyes filled with lust and promise with a gaze intense and hungry. her hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further apart, opening you up to her eagerly exploring mouth. without breaking eye contact, she leaned in, her breath ghosting over your dripping folds.
“you smell incredible… and i bet you taste even better.” yujin murmured, inhaling deeply. her fingers spread your lips, exposing your glistening pink flesh to her appreciative gaze. “i can’t wait to taste you, baby. i’m going to eat this pretty pussy until you’re begging me to stop… and then i’ll keep going.”
with those words, yujin dove in, burying her face between your thighs. her tongue, hot and slick, dragged up your slit in one long, slow lick. she moaned at the first taste of your arousal, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.
yujin licked and sucked at your folds, her mouth covering your slit entirely as she lapped at your essence. she focused her attention on your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves with single–minded focus. her tongue flicked and circled, teasing out more of your delectable juices. yujin pushed your thighs further apart, burying her face deeper into your cunt, eating you out like a starving woman.
as she ate you out, yujin’s hands gripped your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling you harder against her mouth. she consumed you like a woman starved, like she needed your taste to survive.
yujin paused briefly to hook one of your legs over her shoulder, having your thigh over her shoulder and your leg resting on her back, opening you up even more to her hungry mouth. she licked her lips at the sight of your glistening, dripping folds, now fully exposed and vulnerable to her teasing ministrations.
“look at this pretty pussy, all wet and ready for me…” yujin purred, running a single finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat. she brought her finger to her mouth, sucking your essence off with a moan of appreciation. “you taste even better than i imagined, baby. i could eat this sweet cunt for hours.”
with that declaration, yujin dove back in, burying her face between your thighs. she licked and sucked at your clit with reckless abandon, spurred on by your desperate moans and the way your body squirmed against her. one hand reached up to pinch and tug at your nipple, rolling the stiff peak between her fingers.
yujin could feel your walls fluttering, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. she knew you were close, and she wanted to taste your release, to feel your cum coating her tongue as you screamed her name.
she focused her attention on your entrance, plunging her tongue deep inside your tight channel. she fucked you with her tongue, thrusting in and out, feeling your velvet walls clench and grip at the slick muscle. at the same time, she rubbed your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you flying over the edge.
determined to give you more, she slid three fingers inside your dripping sex, pumping them in time with the thrusts of her tongue. she curled them, rubbing that special spot inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. yujin could feel your walls starting to flutter, your body trembling with impending ecstasy.
“yes, that’s it baby. come for me.” yujin urged, her voice muffled against your sex. she looked up at you, her dark eyes blazing with lust and hunger as she gazed at your face, watching your every expression. she wanted to see your beautiful face as you lost yourself to the pleasure she was giving you.
with a final, hard suck to your clit and a deep thrust of her fingers, yujin pushed you over the precipice. she felt your pussy clench down hard on her fingers, your walls spasming and fluttering as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.
your cries of ecstasy filled the locker room as you came undone, your fingers gripping yujin’s hair, holding her in place as she rode out the aftershocks of your release. yujin just moaned against your sex, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, drawing out your high.
yujin could feel your body stiffening, your muscles pulling taut as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. she didn’t let up, continuing to thrust her tongue and fingersdeep inside your spasming cunt, fucking you through your intense orgasm. your essence gushed out, flooding yujin’s mouth and chin as she lapped it up greedily.
finally, after long, blissful moments, your body went limp, your leg slipping from yujin’s shoulder as you slumped back against the wall. yujin slowly pulled away, sitting back on her heels and looking up at you with a self–satisfied smirk.
yujin licked her lips, savoring the taste of your release that still lingered in her mouth. she took a moment to admire her handiwork — your chest heaving, your skin flushed, your hair a wild mess around your face. you looked thoroughly debauched, and yujin felt an intense sense of pride at being the one to reduce you to this state.
rising to her feet, yujin leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered. “that was so hot. watching you come undone on my tongue, feeling your pussy spasm and gush all over my face... i could get addicted to making you scream like that.”
she nipped at your earlobe before trailing her lips down the column of your throat, sucking a dark mark into the sensitive skin. her hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft mounds. she could feel your heart pounding beneath your ribcage, still racing from the intensity of your orgasm.
yujin’s fingers found your nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. she could feel them harden even further under her touch, your body responding eagerly to her ministrations. she smiled against your skin, knowing that she could easily work you up to another peak.
yujin pulled back slightly, glancing at her smartwatch and cursing under her breath. she had lost track of time, too caught up in pleasuring you to pay attention to the ticking seconds. reluctantly, she released your breasts and stepped away, straightening her clothes and running her fingers through her disheveled hair.
“shit, i can’t believe it, but i’m going to be late for my post–game interview if i don’t hurry.” yujin muttered, grabbing her phone from where she had tossed it earlier. she shot you a wicked grin, her eyes glinting with unspent lust. “rain check on the rest of our fun, baby. i promise, next time i won’t let anything interrupt me wrecking this sexy little body of yours.”
yujin leaned in for one last searing kiss, plundering your mouth with her tongue. she nipped at your bottom lip before pulling away and giving your ass a firm smack. “think of me when you’re getting ready for your cheer game later. i hope the next time you touch yourself you imagine it’s my fingers buried deep in this tight cunt, and if you’re good enough, you can pick me up after my training with my team, i wouldn’t mind a fuck after playing.”
she purred, delivering one last filthy promise before turning and sauntering towards the door.
with a final wink thrown over her shoulder, yujin disappeared through the locker room door, leaving you alone and desperately aroused, already craving her touch once more. you knew it wouldn’t be the last time she left you in such a state — yujin always got what she wanted, and right now, she wanted you.
#yujin#yujin x fem reader#yujin x reader#yujin smut#ahn yujin#ahn yujin x fem reader#ahn yujin x reader#ahn yujin smut#ive#ive x fem reader#ive x reader#ive smut
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Honestly, this connects with a lot of previous analysis I've done on Starscream's character:
Firstly, I don't think this is the first time in Decepticon history that he's 'gone rogue', so to speak. Megatron just doesn't come after him because he knows Starscream will be back (as most abusive relationships are, Starscream finds it hard to leave, since he defines so much of himself with Megatron--four million years of intertwined history, I think is a long, long time). The thing is, Starscream also knows he'll come back, too. Because that's how it is, isn't it? But then he loses his T-Cog to Silas, and all of a sudden, the usual routine of 'defect, wait a bit, come back with something good for the Decepticons' has been disturbed, and Starscream's terrified.
Now consider this: Starscream is a Seeker, and Seekers are generally accepted to be communal creatures. This might be a bit of my own headcanon coming in, but Starscream doesn't have anyone for the majority of season 2, and after a certain point, he doesn't have his wings, either (another thing Seekers identify themselves with, and given the way Starscream expresses himself through them, they are an intrinsic part of him that was almost lost with the loss of his t-cog). Both things he defines himself with--his wings and those surrounding him--are gone, so what does he define himself with now?
Obviously the cause he's been fighting on the side of for four million years, right? He defines himself with Megatron, the mech who has been such a core part of his life for those years, right? So much of what Starscream does is rooted in Megatron's approval, so really, it wasn't too big a push over the edge that made him become loyal, so to speak. (Personally, I think that Megatron saving him in the cave wasn't even too big of a catalyst. It was something that might've gotten Starscream loyal for 2-3 weeks at most, but having it as the first step? Followed by everything else in season 2? Yeah.)
Now, when he goes back to the Decepticons (because he ain't going to the Autobots, who are his literal ideological enemies and whose kin he basically killed in spades) Megatron basically gives him his wings back. I cannot stress this enough, he gives Starscream his t-cog back, and now that this t-cog (and therefore his ability to fly) has been defined with Megatron, what is Starscream now, if not in Megatron's debt? Already did he pledge loyalty (with the cave as the catalyst, and everything else following), now he's genuinely on Megatron's side.
Now, that's not to say that Megatron doesn't have his own thing going on. I'm pretty sure he has no idea what he did to Starscream. I'm pretty sure he still takes Starscream to be the treacherous wretch he's been for the past four million years, because it's hard to rid oneself of such stereotypes or impressions, especially when you're not there to see the character development for it. I'm not justifying Megatron in his treatment of Starscream, nor am I justifying Starscream in his a-holery, but it's a whole mess of loyalty and terrible mental states that I find so absurdly interesting. More analysis later, maybe. I'm tired. Need to write an essay or whatever.
I’ll always be obsessed with the fact that Predaking would’ve 100% killed Megatron here if Starscream didn’t intervene using one of his missiles.
Starscream saved his life. He literally saved Megatron (the person who physically abused him and psychologically broke him), even when he had nothing to truly gain from it.
Sure, you could make the argument that Starscream just didn’t want Predaking to turn on him after he killed Megatron.
But the thing is…
This is a genuine look of concern. And he never showed any signs of betrayal or any ambition to usurp him in Season Three. Plus, he was genuinely distraught when Megatron was stabbed by Bumblebee during the show’s finale.
And how does Megatron repay him for rescuing him? He doesn’t. He just shoves him to the side, even when Starscream moved out of his way beforehand.
If you look closely, you can even see the slight expression of fear on his face.
It’s such a subtle detail, but literally says so much.
#transformers#analysis of Starscream's character#tfp#starscream#my baby#my stupid diva of a baby#mm I love picking apart my characters to see what makes them tick#well#I use the term 'my characters' relatively...#maccadam#transformers: prime#megatron#tfp starscream#tfp megatron#character analysis
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Everyone in the campus knew that you two hated each other, always competing over everything, so everyone already knew very well that you two would never get along with each other, like ever, the chance of that happening is rarer than winning the lottery.
They were right about that, of course, you two did hate each other, but one thing that they don’t know is about the sinful secret that you two keep for yourselves.
In the privacy of the student council office, that only you two can freely access, a heavy atmosphere in the room seems almost suffocating. You were working on some papers when he suddenly said something. “Don’t you think that these papers that you just approved are not really up to standards?”
You shot up a glare at him, annoyed by his complaint…again, “I know what I’m doing, and the papers are good enough, considering they’re just a new organization.”
“Oh really? Because to me, it looks like you’re just going easy on them ‘cause of that one guy in that little, pesky organization.” He said, his tone playful and teasing, but there was something different about it.
You raised an eyebrow at him as you decided to rile him up a bit. “So what? Jealous?” You said as you gave him a smug grin to get more reaction out of him, “He’s an…interesting guy, and he’s really cute, so you know, maybe I’ll ask him to be my friend.”
You could see how his jaw tightened and his fists clenching as the papers that he was holding were getting crumpled a bit. You were about to say something more, just to get a bit more reaction, when he finally stood up from his chair and walked over to you, his tall frame looming over you as he held on both armrests on either of your sides, locking you in place.
“You want to say that again?” He said in a low whisper as he stared down at you intensely, one of his hand coming up to rest shamelessly on your thigh, squeezing it possessively as he smirk at you, his tone a mock hurt as he spoke, “And here I thought we have something special, we do though, don't we?”
“Perhaps, I’ve been the soft getting soft, letting you run your mouth easily and talk to other men outside of your duties when I’ve clearly made it clear that you’re mine.” he whispered as his fingers climbed up higher, his hand teasing your inner thigh as he spread them apart a bit, revealing a healed scar on her inner thigh. On her skin, his initials were carved, his smirk grew wider as he saw it clearly etched on your skin, a clear reminder of his possession over you.
“What a naughty girl you’ve become,hm? Or maybe you’re just trying to get my attention, that’s why you’ve been whoring yourself around, right? You want me to remind you again who you belong to, right?” He took a step back, unbuckling his belt while keeping his gaze on you, his eyes filled with lust and desire, holding all the dirty things that he’d do to you. He took his belt off and secured your wrists with it, tightening it around both of your wrists as he walked off to take something from his bag. And when he came back, he presented an array of sex toys on the table in front of her.
“Take your pick, sweetheart.” He said playfully with a dark smirk as he leaned in close to her ear to whisper. “Whatever you pick first though, I’m going to take my time with you, we’re going to use every single one of them, and when you’re all spent and dripping wet from your own cum, I’ll be using my cock to wake you up again, and trust me, I won’t be letting you go until I’m fully satisfied, and you know how my appetite is, especially for you.”
✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧
a/n: Ngl, this one sounds really cringe for me :')) but I'm pushing through, cause I'm ovulating rn and that's the best way for me to get this horny side out of me XD enjoy tho
#aste writes#fanfic#x reader#fanfiction#mha bakugou#mha headcanons#bnha#jujustu kaisen#mha fluff#jjk x reader#jjk smut#nagi smut#smut#blue lock smut#dabi smut#female reader#ftm ns/fw#aot#aot x reader#levi aot#aot fanfiction#attack on titan#aot headcanons#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#boyfriend
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The last game
Chishiya x reader
Summary: A carefree girl earns Chishiya’s respect through her charm and unpredictability in a deadly game.
Word count: 741
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I knew he was trouble the first time I saw him—tall, cool, and looking like he could read my mind. But I didn’t mind. Honestly, I liked the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to figure out. I’m not dumb, but I guess I don’t exactly come off as the smartest person in the room, either. That’s fine, though. I don’t need to be brainy to keep up with him.
Chishiya’s the kind of guy who doesn’t waste words. He says exactly what he means, and when he smiles, it’s like he already knows something you don’t. He’s a little scary, but I like it. He has this way of making everything feel like a game—a game I don’t always understand, but I play along.
He usually leaves me out of the really dangerous stuff, the mind games and the strategy talk. He knows I’m not good with that—hell, half the time I don’t even get what’s going on. But he doesn’t mind. Or at least, he never shows it.
It was during one of those endless nights when the games seemed to drag on forever that I found myself sitting beside him in a dark corner of the building. Everyone else was fighting, plotting, scheming. But me? I was just… existing. Trying to look cute. Trying to make him smile.
He didn’t look at me, not at first. His eyes were focused on the game screen, his mind already miles ahead, analyzing the next move. I was used to it by now, the way he just… tuned me out when things were important. It didn’t bother me.
But when I shifted and bumped his shoulder, he looked up, those sharp eyes locking onto mine.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his voice low, like he was testing something.
I smiled, my fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. “Just thinking… about us, I guess.”
Chishiya didn’t react right away. His gaze lingered, as if trying to decipher what I meant. But I didn’t care. I liked being mysterious sometimes. I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t always predictable.
“Thinking about what?” he asked.
“About how I can make you smile,” I said with a grin, leaning a little closer.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that your strategy?”
I shrugged, flipping my hair and making sure he caught the way I looked at him. “I guess you could say that.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His lips quirked up into a half-smile, the kind of smile that made you wonder if he was mocking you or just playing a game you didn’t quite understand.
“You know, I’ve been watching you,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not as dumb as you seem.”
I laughed, brushing it off. “Hey, I’m not stupid. I just like to have fun.”
His smile turned a little more genuine, and it made my heart race. “Fun can be dangerous,” he said, but there was a softness in his voice that didn’t match his usual cold tone.
I blinked at him. “Is that why you like me? ‘Cause I’m dangerous?”
He tilted his head, considering the question. “You’re not dangerous. But you’re unpredictable. And that makes things interesting.”
The next day, things went south. As usual, the game was twisted and brutal. The other players were ruthless, fighting for their lives in the most twisted ways. I kept close to Chishiya, though. He was my shield, my secret weapon. Not because he wanted to protect me, but because I kept him entertained. I had a feeling he liked keeping me close for the challenge, for the puzzle I presented.
“You’re not like the others,” he said when we managed to hide away from the chaos. “You don’t try to fight. You just… let things happen.”
I smiled, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t need to fight to win, babe. I have other ways.”
He studied me for a moment, that unreadable expression on his face. “You really think that?”
I nodded, proud of myself. “Of course. I have my charm.”
Chishiya’s lips twitched into a smirk, but there was something different about it now. He wasn’t laughing at me, not anymore. It was like he finally understood me. He knew I wasn’t just a dumb girl in a messed-up game. I was a player, too, in my own way.
And for the first time, I thought maybe, just maybe, he respected me. Not for my brain, but for the way I played the game.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said, turning to leave.
I watched him go, my heart fluttering for reasons I didn’t fully understand. I was smart enough to know that with Chishiya, I was always one step behind—but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to play. And if that meant being the unpredictable, carefree girl who kept him intrigued, then so be it.
Because in the end, that was the game we were both playing.
#Alice in borderland#alice in borderland x you#alice in borderland x reader#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya alice in borderland#aib chishiya#chishiya x reader#chishiya x you#chishiya shuntaro x reader#chishiya aib#aib x reader
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@lamentationsofalonelypotato
Yayyyy!! Welcome about the 1940s train, my friend!! I know how much you share my love of historical fiction/AU. 😘
Here we go -- diving into your lovely amazing comments. 😎
Right off the bat we get the classic and hilarious brother dynamic between the two of them. And of course, Dean being Dean. He just couldn't resist. 🙄 Not to mention the fact that Sam literally gave Dean a list of things to do in NYC other than bother him 😂
Lolll we gotta get into that first, right? I thought the best way to set the scene would be to establish the bro relationship here -- how this version of Sam and Dean are exactly the same...and how they're a bit different. 😬 (exactly on that list! lmfao)
I love this little bit of world-building, because right off the bat you are introducing little things that will divide Sam and Dean. It builds the scene, shapes the characters, and introduces the idea that, yes both men enlisted, but at the same time there are other sides/fronts to the war and those experiences shaped these two men in different ways. I also like that you made them be in different places in the military, because their personalities are so different and it fits that Dean was the one who saw combat and has a little bit of shell-shock, but then you see Sam who is able to keep a stable job and merges well into the hustle and bustle of NYC.
Thank youuuuu I was hoping someone would pick up on all of this. 😭😭 I thought it would be interesting to apply Sam's intelligence literally in Intelligence. It was an interesting and necessary facet of the war. Without the spies and Intelligence efforts on the Allied side, we wouldn't have won the war.
But in this story, it would also provide that contrast with how Sam experienced the war and how Dean did, with him being what we think of when we think of a soldier, coming out of all of this with shell shock and more than a few scars -> something the movies of the '40s tended to gloss over. 🥲
"He'd met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn't seen a lady like you in quite some time." I'm dying with this line. I love it so much. Oh boy... I already feel like this fic is going to destroy me in the best way.
AGAIN - another line I hoped someone would enjoy. 💗 Dean's been messing around with a lot of "girls," but this here's a lady. 😘
Aww Sam 😭 I'm also dying that Dean walked her home, my word, what a man.
Sam's a Good Man, but so is Dean, in a more obvious flirtatious gesture of chivalry guy kind of way. 😅
You don't gotta ask what it's like sweet pea, you're gonna be out there soon enough with a ring on your left hand that actually MEANS SOMETHING to the man who gave it to you (DEAN)!
Ooooh girl, not you already getting red hot with your theories. 😜
Girl please be curious for all of us 🤣 But I will say I like that she still upholds her side of the marriage even though her husband is literally a human trash can filled with Raccoons. As Dean put it earlier, she's a lady.
Oh yeah, gotta have that spark of attraction, noticing those bowlegs!
And yes, that morality and how seriously she takes her vows is something that's still very much at the crux of this story, especially considering the times, where as a whole the nation had more religious and/or traditional values around marriage. Even though, obvious, adultery has been around since the beginning of time lmao. 🫠
Also I love that you made her a nurse and that she and Dean were in the same area, so they're able to connect on that level, and it's not just Dean being flirty. I think that giving the reader that particular background also will help her navigate how to help Dean, if she's seen other soldiers with shell-shock and PTSD.
Aw thank you!! They have some common ground, literally, even if they were in Normandy at different points during the war. And you're right, her being nurse is going to be a key character element going forward, with Dean and Michael.
Oh my sweet goodness she's the best. Did she stutter?! I think not!
Right?! That's def her mic drop moment! loll 🎙️
You know what Mike, if you keep talking you're gonna regret it. Your wife might be a lady, but Dean isn't. And Dean will go full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass while you're asleep for doing the twisted tango with another woman!! 😡🤣
LMFAO not Lorena Bobbitt!!!!! I'm deceasedddd. 💀💀💀
Alex this chapter was amazing! I can see how much research and hard work you put into it my talented friend! I can't wait to see what else is in store for Dean and this reader 🥰
Aww thank you, my lovely Lee. 🥹 Part 2 is about to drop tomorrow, so you'll see very soon!! (Or whenever you get to it lol) 💕
BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.
AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜
Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic
Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald
Word Count: 3.9K
Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits
✨ Series Masterlist
🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist
Part 1: Legal Grounds
November 2, 1945
Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.
Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom
What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.
Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.
He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.
Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.
“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.
Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.
Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.
“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”
He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.
He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.
“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”
Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”
Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.
Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.
It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.
Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.
Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.
Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut.
“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”
Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.
Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.
“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.
“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”
“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”
“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”
“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.
“All right. Come with me, please.”
You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.
Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.
You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”
He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.
“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”
You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.
“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”
Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”
Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.
“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said.
“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”
You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.
“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.
To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.
“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.
“Michael. Michael Milligan.”
“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?”
Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap.
“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.
Once again, there was a pregnant pause.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once.
“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”
Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.
You sighed. “What kind of proof?”
“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said.
You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”
“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks.
You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”
You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly.
“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.
“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”
Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”
Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.
“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”
You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.
“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”
Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.
“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”
Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.
“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”
He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.
“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”
Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.
You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.
Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.
“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.
Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.
“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”
“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.
“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.
“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.
“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”
Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.
You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”
“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.
You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.
“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”
The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.
“The Army,” he replied.
“Your rank?”
“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”
You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.
“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”
You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.
Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.
Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.
Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.
“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.
You shot him a look, reading between his lines.
“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”
Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.
“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.
“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.
“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”
“You’d presume right.”
Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”
“Lawrence?”
“Kansas.”
“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”
Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”
You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.
“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.
Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”
“Why not?” you asked.
“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.
You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.
Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.
But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.
Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.
“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”
Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”
You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”
Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.
“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”
“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”
A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.
“Dean,” you said.
In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.
“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.
Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.
“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.
His brows furrowed. “Do what?”
“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.”
It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.
“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.”
You stopped him from leaving with just your voice.
“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”
Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”
This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.
“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.
He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.
With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.
That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff.
This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.
“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.
You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so.
“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”
“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”
With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.
“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.
“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly.
“Hmm. No real loss there then.”
Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.”
Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner.
“Excuse me?”
You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.
Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.”
He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.
When did this become your life?
AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅
And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘
Next Time:
Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…
“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”
Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.
“Wanna go to the club tonight?”
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PLEASPELALEPLARE SAY THAT YOU PLAY IN DOL??? I NEED HEADCANONS FOR THAT BITCHES ASAP WITH MALE TOP READER BECAUSE I FIXKUNG HATE FEM READERS ONE AAAAAAHADHHRHSS (SORRY I'M NOT ENGLISH BUT PLEASE)
Damn, imagine if we were mermaids and you had a dick with spikes, and I had a vagina like the Mariana Trench and ... (quotes from my husband day I adore him)
MASTERLIST is here.
#a.n. : see how desperate the person is? Gotta satisfy them, or their uterus/dick will explode and it will be my fault. Never thought I'd get a DoL request, but fuck yeah. Please give me more DoL requests.
Characters: School Love Interests (you're here), Other Love Interests (coming soon)
!!Warnings: switch!top!gn!reader (male leaned, although options with vaginas and penises are mentioned and reader is they/them and he like two times), bottom!characters (there are both cis and trans versions here, since I headcanon some of them as such, tho pronounces are he/him), honestly there are too many of them, considering the game itself is built. So the are below all the characters. Whitney's part has a bottom!reader clause, but it's marked so you don't have to read it (my husband extraterrestrialized this and I said hell yeah), reader is the player.
Kylar the Loner.
!!Warnings: pregnancy, size difference, mention of kidnapping, bondage, role playing, dirty talk, smells, underwear stealing, humping, mention of full body pillow, erotic drawing, he is delulu yandere.
My sweet cupcake, what can I say about you, honestly... It seems to me that he definitely should have a kink for the difference in size. Like, even with the smallest player's physique, he's still only a little taller??? And considering that with the biggest player, he looks like Thumbelina, you can't say that he doesn't. This guy was definitely fantasizing about how a player would pin him to something with this huge body (or a small body too, you'll be stronger than this guy anyway, it seems to me... If he's not hysterical, of course, hehe).
His hygiene definitely improved after he met the player. Like, just to impress them and not look like a mess (he's still a mess). So he definitely has a fucking jungle in his pants. And he's quite comfortable with it, although if you ask him to remove them, then of course he will. But yes. The tough, black jungle is right there. He's VERY hairy.
Uh, if we're going to talk about penis size, then it seems to me that he has an amazingly large penis for his height. Would I say about 7.3 inches? It's also curved to the left, because that's how I feel. If we're talking about pussy, I think it's surprisingly pale compared to the rest of his body, and he has a surprisingly large clitoris on his own. And if you're a genius like me and you're choosing tirs for a male character, then fuck, he's got a C-cup (there's a lot that could be hiding under his hoodie, lol).
Definitely the most talkative during sex. He's also whiny, especially the first time he loses his virginity (and especially if the player is also a virgin). Fuck, the king of dirty talk!!! It may be very strange, nasty and focused on how you impregnate him (or vise versa), but no one could talk to you like that, he could write you a fanfiction while riding on your dick and at the same time manage to hack into the Pentagon and brew spicy noodles and would not see any problems in it.
I think he has sensitive ears. Do you know this dialogue where he says that the player's ears are not as sensitive as in his dream??? Usually dreams reflect reality (I don't believe in this heresy, but I need a reason), therefore someone must have sensitive ears and it's definitely him, if not the player. I can just imagine how he would twitch and blush if you could bite his ear and whisper something there.
An unequivocal fetish for smells. Are you saying he's stealing the player's underwear for nothing??? Absolutely not. I doubt very much that he uses it on his genitals, as he thinks that the smell will be erased sooner, so he practically suffocates himself in the fabric, inhaling this smell. Even if the player smells like grandma, or absolutely disgusting like garbage, or like something sickly sweet right up to the point of getting sick in the head, it's still the best smell in the world (as long as it's not the smell of someone else's sperm).
Role-playing games??? This guy literally played some kind of wedding with us after the kidnapping. He was also literally acting in a skit (even if not in the role he wanted). He would definitely be a fan of this thing. And would especially love something old-fashioned or fantasy!! Type vampire × human, aristocrat × servant, vampire × werewolf. And something else where the player's attention will be completely on him, as well as in the dominant plan (he likes it when the player takes control, come on), such as policeman × criminal, concubine × king, husband × husband/wife (these two were invented by my hubby, lol still true).
He definitely has something to do with bondage (you can't say no, this guy literally tied up a player in his basement and rode on their dick/fucked them and whatever else). And he would definitely like to be tied up by a player, especially if the player is already many times stronger and could break him like a match. Although it's fucking nice for him to keep himself in power, too.
He would definitely like the same things that his partner would like. It doesn't matter how dangerous or vile it may be (without examples, everyone has their own degree of understanding of this). But fuck, seriously. You could say, like, "listen, I want to have sex in a swamp that's probably home to fifteen thousand different deadly bacteria, but you'd look too fucking sexy in mud," and he wouldn't hear anything except the part after the "but."
He would have loved humping. It doesn't matter what it is. Are you telling me that this person has a full-height player's pillow and he has never rubbed against it??? And didn't attach a dildo/flashlight to it??? Fuck, absolutely not. He'd love to rub his genitals against something, especially if it's not a player's thing, just so he can imagine how their skin would feel under them and all that.
He would cum in seconds (in my game, he cums in just two or three actions from the player????). Seriously, he would cum even without stimulation in the initial stages, just from the voice or from the overly sexy look of the player in front of him. His poor virgin brain would just explode.
He loves to draw a player in erotic poses or situations (canonically) and show them this. And then play it back, especially if the player himself reduces it by saying, like, "Oh, it looks sexy. Do you want to repeat it?" He will literally melt into a puddle.
Would never admit it, but he loves it when a player kisses/licks/strokes his scars, bruises and scratches. He doesn't find these parts of himself attractive, so what if his partner did it?.. Ka-sploosh!
And finally, the strange headcanon! I think he has a birthmark somewhere that slightly resembles the silhouette of a player... To make him believe even more in fate, love at first sight, and all that.
Sydney (nevermind which).
!!Warnings: body writing, mention of body fluids, reading as erotic event, size difference, hair pulling, pregnancy, cum on the face, semi public sex, sex in clothes, mention of mythical creatures, sadomaso kinda, wax.
So. Let's talk about Sydney as a whole, since his "personalities" differ only in their overall "emancipation"!
An unequivocal one hundred percent fetish for writing on the body, canonical, yes. But why doesn't anyone talk about it? No one wants such a handsome man to write all sorts of things on them??? Absolutely anything, because he would have written anything if the player had asked politely. And I would let him write anything on me if I were you, I'll be honest, especially those stupid emoticons. >:(
Not exactly sexy, but intimate! If a player had a lot of tattoos, they would definitely like to paint them over, like coloring books for children. I thought it was cute, so let it be here.
Canonically loves the taller player, so... The library, his desk, the evening, the two of you, he's sitting on the counter, you're pressing him against it, pawing him, kissing him, it doesn't matter what you do there, as long as he clings to you, while staring at you with those beautiful amber eyes.
Incredibly caring after sex, when he gets used to it all. He will definitely make sure that the player is satisfied and has finished as much as he wanted, he will definitely hug and praise the player if they need to, feed or drink the player if necessary and wash too. He will absolutely fall in love three times more if they do it in return.
During sex? Even better. The guy would definitely bring you to orgasm with his mouth/fingers/toys/friction, that is, without penetration, at least once. Unambiguous additional stimulation if you need it and when he learns your erogenous points. One hundred percent praise to any side of your body if you find it unattractive.
He loves it when they cum on his face. Anyone with glasses likes it when they cum on their face, I said so (I know it's hard to rub it off afterwards, but anyway). Especially at the beginning, after he loses his virginity and he gives head to the player and when they finally cum, he blushes so incredibly hard from it. He probably cries a little too when he realizes that he's going to make the player cum.
He's not a fan of dirty talk in my opinion, especially early Sydney, but he would love it if a player whispered something to him about the future. That is, giving him a hint about something long-term, even if you whispered to him that he was going to get pregnant, even though he was a cis man, it would still be sweet.
I came up with the idea of a fetish, the name of which I don't remember, but fuck... Imagine reading books during sex??? Especially in terms of roles??? Especially if you both get in each other's way while reading your piece??? It's hot. He definitely likes it, especially since he has a pleasant voice, it should be good.
So, let's talk about genitals! The penis is definitely not too outstanding, since the guy has spent in a chastity belt practically all life so about 5 inches. If we're talking about pussy, then definitely tiny labia and the same tiny clitoris. If we talk about tits... A-cup? Maybe a B-cup? They're small but not tiny.
He definitely doesn't bother with his hair much, because before his relationship with the player, he literally wore iron underpants, lol. But he adheres to hygiene absolutely, and his hair is also completely shaved off after the start of the relationship.
I think he likes being pulled by his hair. Not much. They just tilt his head back during penetration, hold his hair during kissing/oral sex, and just stroke his head.
A canonical masochist, albeit a hidden one. Plus, he's a sadist. So.... Listen to me. Wax. I fucking want to drip something on this guy's body or have him do it, it doesn't matter. He would tremble so much, trying not to show how much he liked it, even though he was absolutely flowing during the process from a pleasant mixture of pain and pleasure.
Theoretically speaking, he would agree to a lot as long as it's not too traumatic, too public and as long as it doesn't contain any bodily fluids other than saliva and semen (he canonically despises blood... And everything else, yes).
And of course, his canonical pregnancy kink (why does everyone in this game want a baby, I'm crying, except Avery of course). Definitely, his pupils will turn into hearts if one of you can get pregnant (if not, then I think it will be easy to convince him that this is possible, because he is a very stupidly smart person).
Sex in clothes??? For some reason, it seems to me that he would like to look at the outlines of the player's body or at his own if they were in front of a mirror, for example. Just imagine what's underneath those layers of fabric, even if he's seen it all many times.
Semi-public sex. And no, not just the canonical library and the mall (I'm still disappointed that he can't be fucked somewhere on the beach or in a temple, not under certain conditions). He would worry that someone would see you, try to be incredibly quiet, cling to you as if you were the only thing holding him in life.
By the way, he's probably the quietest of the four. Most of time he just breathe heavily, maybe he whisper prayers or something about how well he feel. It's quite difficult to get full-fledged moans out of him.
Well, it's a strange hedcanon for my favorites... Would you definitely think of the player as some kind of mythical creature? It doesn't matter if it's sexy or not, just the fact that his brain slides to the player's body in the form of some vampire, ending with some nonsense with tentacles, and then realizing arousal and hoping that the player will enter the library today sounds funny.
Robin the Orphan.
!!Warnings: forest sex, bathroom sex, mutual masturbation, cockwarming, nipple play, voyeurism, mention of bruises.
It will probably be the most difficult, because he is very... A controversial character. I love him, but he fucking annoys me sometimes. Does a guy literally get offended if he loses a game or if a player pushes him away when trying to have sex with high confidence??? He's sweet, but what the fuck is that. I'm still taking his debt on myself though, considering he's probably the most adequate of them all.
Well, it doesn't matter. Let's start with the food kink? The guy is poor in his own way. So imagine if he ever sees a player's body strewn with even the cheapest snacks or sweets. The guy will literally explode on the spot. Even if it's just plain whipped cream.
Mmm, also role-playing games. These silly dialogues where we talk about the characters of some video game that they both play gave me this idea, especially considering that they mean each other there. So of course the captain player will fuck this elf or whoever it is.
He's definitely a voyeur. It doesn't matter if he's watching or if he's being watched (only by the player, of course). It just relaxes to some extent, and the trust, and just taking the shackles off those cheap clothes on him.
He has a habit of biting the player's genitals when he gives them oral sex. He doesn't quite bite, but he chews, touches it lightly with his teeth. I'm not sure how it feels on a vagina, but on a dick? For me personally, it feels good, especially if that little bitch giggles at it.
The quietest during sex. He canonically doesn't even speak during it, lol (hopefully he'll learn one day). He probably just buries his face in the player's shoulder, hugging them, or buries his face in a pillow and just enjoys the sensations, breathing heavily.
I feel like he would really hate to sit still during this. That is, he would not be able to stay in the same position for a long time, or would not be able to tolerate for a long time if, for example, you rubbed against each other for several minutes without doing anything else. He would constantly try to turn you over or do something else.
A huge fan of jerking off. Mutual jerking off especially! He loves to put his feet on the player's hips while they rub their cocks against each other. He would have finished as quickly as possible from this. (This also works if you don't have a dick or he doesn't have a dick; he or you could get your dick lost on another's vagina, or scrissoring, of course)
A fan of outdoor sex!! I love the picnic event in the game, so... He will feed you deliciously (sandwiches with tea), and then he will throw you on the blanket and do whatever you want together. He just loves all this scenic beauty of forests, lakes and just vegetation everywhere.
Cockwarming... During the game... It would calm him down! He feels your cock inside him (or vice versa), feels this warmth, fullness, you are next to him and for some reason the game becomes easier and for some strange reason he becomes focused.
So, the genitals... The penis is definitely bent down, the head is very thick, the penis itself is thin, about 5.7 inches in size. If we're talking about a pussy, it's quite ordinary, but he would have large labia and a mole on them. Little tits... B-cup. Unambiguous. And he would also have very attractive puffy nipples.
And speaking of nipples. I think they're pretty damn sensitive. He loves when a player's fingers or tongue are on his boobs, squeezing the muscles there, and then squeezing those rosebuds, causing him a familiar knot in his stomach.
His pubic hair is fine. They are not particularly neat, but they are trimmed, he more than observes hygiene, everything is fine there. And his hair is surprisingly soft there, so everything is fine!!
The idea came up right now about strangulation. In my opinion, he would have liked it if the player had held his neck while they were doing this (maybe squeezed if Robin was completely relaxed). Although this kink will immediately disappear if he survives the abduction that occurs if you do not take on Robin's debt.
Sex in the bathroom!! I really like this scene. And Robin, too. He sees you completely naked, just for him, surrounded by water and foam, while you wash each other, fuck, and then wash each other again. Well, what could be better?
Loves body-to-body sex. Well, for example, where you or he are lying on top of each other or where you are hugging and your bodies are almost one hundred percent touching. It brings him the necessary and incredible comfort.
One more small clarification about voyeurism. The idea came up now that he would like it if a player watched him finger himself/jerk off. He would have come from this at the speed of light or faster (with high confidence, though, he would have put on a show at the same time).
He loves it when a player leaves light bruises of their hands. No hickeys or bites. It's the handprints. He finds them very attractive and a sign that the player fucking wanted him so much that they couldn't control their grip (your back would say the same thing about him lol).
And the strange headcanon, of course! He probably read some silly facts in history textbooks and asked the player to repeat them. And the player read the facts from biology... And of course they repeated them too! Not meiosis and mitosis, of course, and certainly not budding, but it's also an exciting activity with a cardio load!!
Whitney the Bully.
!!Warnings: size difference, praise kink, humiliation kink, riding, face sitting, mention of tattoos and piercings, fetish on virginity (?), maths (trust me, it's sexy), oral sex, mention of sex toys, BDSM, home porn, nudes.
My favorite cruel blonde is here, and we'll start big, of course. He would probably agree to any adventure that the player would suggest (it's kind of like even canon). Do you want to make him up and crossdress him? Please do it. Do you want to hug him or literally squeeze him like a plush toy in public? Oh, go on. But he will definitely fuck the life out of you afterwards.
He probably doesn't have an absolutely strict "no". If you want something, you'll get it, with his permission, of course. Starting with a threesome, ending with the strangest, most horrible, disgusting scene you can imagine.
There is a hidden kink for praise. He will necessarily blush too much if a player sincerely praises him during sex (especially if it is something external, given that he is not sure about his appearance). It will only make his actions faster, but damn it, he'll like it and it's obvious.
A hidden romantic somewhere in the depths of his soul. He would sincerely enjoy the most ordinary vanilla sex from time to time (VERY rarely), where both of you just relax and fuck lying on the bed while he hugs one of his plush toys.
He is literally "the best sucker" in the game. He literally has an oral fixation. And probably a tongue piercing, because it's hot and suits him very well. Would give you such a wildly pleasant blowjob / cunnilingus/ rimming that your legs would then shake for a few more minutes.
Although he loves it when you do it. Even if you're a total virgin and absolutely don't know how to suck dick/eat pussy, he'll just love your enthusiasm for it. If you're lucky, he'll even cum from it or try on the role of a teacher and teach you where to put your tongue, fingers, where it's better to press, how and so on.
Face sitting!!! I want him to strangle me with his hips, my God.... Absolutely enjoys the sight of your face sinking between his thighs and would absolutely not mind drowning between yours, even if you are many times heavier/bigger (he is the epitome of the meme "he sat on my face and broke my neck").
Loves to hold grab the player by the waist. In non-intimate moments, his hand is most likely there (or on the player's ass lol). In intimate moments, he mostly grabs the sides / stomach of the player, because he likes him. It doesn't matter if you're overweight, if you're chiseled like an Adonis, or if it's just a waistline, he loves it.
He definitely has a thing for people with piercings or tattoos. Especially if they are intimate. That is, the piercings of the navel, penis / pussy / ass, nipples, tongue. Or tattoos on the lower back, ass, chest, genitals (and there are such things, yes).
He is the most unashamed LI, because he would do it anywhere, anytime, he absolutely does not care who is there and who is not there, he must do it. The player looks too sweet to resist.
The genitals!! The cock is very thick, VERY THICK. Although by itself it is slightly above average, maybe about 6.2 inches. The pussy is very beautiful (yes, I think he has an attractive pussy, but what?), probably a small clitoris. Tits... Either A-cup or D-cup, there is no between.
Hair... I don't think he has a lot of hair there in general, and he doesn't take much care of it, although he shaves it off when it becomes uncomfortable. But his hygiene is impeccable (do you have any idea how many people he fucks?).
Of course, everyone understands perfectly well that he has a kink for humiliating the player. But imagine what would happen if he praised them. It's just that one day it would slip out that the player is a "good boy" at a certain point in their sex and the player would come out of surprise (sorry, funny). He would use it later, very rarely, but so accurately.
Virgins turn him on. Or just people who don't know anything about sex. Well, more precisely, a player, he would hardly fuck with someone for one night who doesn't know what they're doing at all. So he's really turned on by all this, these pathetic attempts, these first successes, these first reactions and results, well, fucking sweet.
(Bottom!reader) My husband came up with a trick. You know, if he has a vagina (no matter what gender he is), he always wears a strap-on, or almost always. He has a huge collection of them, which he stole canonically from a sex shop and damn it, sooner or later he uses them.
Absolutely loves to ride a dick. Especially if the penis is huge or tiny. It just gives him a sense of some kind of pleasant satisfaction that he can hold onto something so huge or something so small, while still getting pleasure and delivering it in return.
A teaser to the core. He will play with your nipples, genitals, erogenous zones, will constantly kiss you, leave marks, rub against you, but will not give you what you needed until you take it yourself or start begging him.
I think he's a BDSM fan. Especially the dom/sub aspects, because he just loves to bend the player to his will, and of course he loves it even more if the player does it himself. If he's in love, he can switch roles if you want, he's not picky, but he'll still be bossy one way or another.
Uh, he'd be a fan of home videos. He would never show them to anyone, because they are only for his eyes, he just likes to watch them from time to time. Or your photos too, when you cum, fuck him or something like that.
He would love it if the player had a huge ass. He absolutely loves kneading it between his fingers, watching as it takes the shape of his palms. Would constantly slap it at any convenient or inconvenient moment.
A hidden kink for the size difference? He loves his partners bigger and taller. He likes to bend them to his feet, keeping the player on a leash (literally or not), even if they are high-rise compared to him.
And of course our favorite category. He loves to ask the player questions from time to time during sex, especially if they are barely thinking and the questions jump from "2+2?" to "find the minimum of the function y=x²-563x-89=0". Of course, he punishes the player in some way if they answer incorrectly, even if they understand that they will answer incorrectly. But if by some miracle they guess, then he will fulfill some of their requests.
#top male reader#seme male reader#a!writes.#dom male reader#sub character#dol x male reader#dol x reader#degress of lewdity#dol whitney#dol sydney#dol kylar#dol robin#male reader#x male reader#whitney the bully#sydney the faithful#sydney the fallen#kylar the loner#robin the orphan#dol#whitney x reader#Sydney x reader#kylar x reader#Robin x reader#dol headcanons#degress of lewdity headcanons#whitney dol#sydney dol#kylar dol#robin dol
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i love ur thanos stories, you wrote him so in character !! could you do a fanfic where he meets reader in the games and she’s kind of weird ? like she’s very calm and unfazed by everything and people avoid her because she asks strange questions and just seems to be in her own world completely ? i think the contrast of thanos being loud and himself with a reader with this personality would be cute :)
UNFAZED
parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader
warnings: typical squid game stuff, death, blood, swearing, dark humor.
The first time Thanos noticed you, he thought you were beautiful.
The second time, he thought you were insane.
It was during Red Light, Green Light. People were screaming, blood splattering the ground, bodies dropping like flies—and there you were, standing still, watching it all like it was mildly interesting.
He was running past you when he heard you mumble, “I wonder how many people have died in the exact spot we’re standing in.”
What the fuck?
He nearly tripped.
Who the hell thought about that in a situation like this? Most people were crying, praying, or pissing themselves. But you? You tilted your head, staring at the bloodied ground like you were considering something deeply philosophical.
Then the music played, and you walked forward, completely unbothered, hands in your pockets.
Thanos couldn’t stop looking at you.
When he finally made it to the finish line, panting and cursing, he turned his head—and there you were, still strolling like you had all the time in the world, like people weren’t being gunned down behind you.
When the last gunshot rang out, signaling the game was over, Thanos exhaled, shaking his head. But his eyes found you again, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes.
Then you smiled.
And Thanos—who never shut up, who always had something to say—just stood there, stunned, watching as you turned and walked away like none of this meant a damn thing to you.
Yeah.
He had to talk to you.
After Red Light, Green Light
People were avoiding you.
Not just steering clear, but actively avoiding you—whispering, sneaking glances, looking at you like you were something unnatural.
Which, honestly, wasn’t surprising.
Not after what you said.
Some guy had been crying over his dead friend, shaking his body, begging him to wake up. And you? You just crouched beside him, tilted your head, and said:
“It’s kind of poetic, don’t you think? He died reaching for the finish line but never made it. It’s like a metaphor for his whole life.”
The guy had turned white.
People started moving away from you immediately after that, muttering about how you were crazy or fucking cursed.
You didn’t mind. It gave you more space.
Ever intrigued, Thanos sauntered over and dropped down beside you, settling in like he’d known you forever. You barely acknowledged him, offering only a slow, dreamy smile—like you hadn’t just survived a massacre, like you weren’t trapped in a death game. Like none of this even phased you.
“So,” he said, smirking. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a fucked-up place like this?”
You blinked at him.
Then, completely serious, you said, “Did you know you can tell how long a body has been dead based on the color of the blood pooling in their limbs?”
Thanos stared.
What. The. Fuck.
You continued, tilting your head. “I was watching earlier. Some of them turned pale faster than others. Which means they probably had worse circulation before they died. It makes you wonder about their medical history.”
Thanos opened his mouth. Then closed it.
He had flirted with a lot of women in his life. And every single one of them—without fail—either blushed, giggled, or played along.
But you?
You were talking about corpse discoloration.
He had no idea how to respond to that.
“…Right.” He cleared his throat, regrouping. “Anyway, you’re cute. You should stick with me—I’ll keep you safe.”
You hummed. “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?”
Thanos choked.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“I—I mean—” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No.”
“I doubt that,” you said easily, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Your pupils are kind of weirdly dilated. And you’re talking fast. Stimulants, probably.”
Thanos didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended.
“I like you,” he decided. “You’re fun.”
You didn’t reply.
Thanos let out a laugh—sharp and amused, because he wasn’t used to being ignored, much less dismissed so easily.
“I’m Thanos,” he said, leaning in slightly, his usual confidence slipping back into place. “What’s your name?”
“Y/N,” you replied, tilting your head. “And you?”
He blinked.
“Thanos. I just told you that.”
“Oh.” You shrugged, entirely unbothered. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Thanos stared at you, torn between laughing and being personally offended. Most people hung on his every word, eager for his attention, desperate to impress him. But you? You couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.
He grinned.
“I think I love you,” he said, half-joking.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied easily, pulling your knees to your chest. “We’re in a life-or-death situation. Your emotions are probably just heightened due to adrenaline.”
Thanos let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’re really something, you know that?”
You just blinked at him, as if the thought had never crossed your mind.
He studied you for a long moment, taking in the dreamy, far-off look in your eyes, the way you seemed almost bored despite the chaos surrounding you. He had met a lot of people in his life—liars, manipulators, people who pretended to be something they weren’t. But you?
You weren’t faking it.
You were just… like this.
Untouchable.
Unshaken.
Unfazed.
And fuck, he was fascinated.
“So, Y/N,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
You hummed, considering. “The same thing as you, I suppose.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
You turned to look at him, your gaze slow and lazy, like you were looking straight through him.
“Surviving.”
Thanos couldn’t help the way his grin widened at your response, the sharpness in your tone only making him more intrigued. You didn’t say things like that to impress, or even to challenge. It was just… matter of fact. A simple observation that had him leaning in closer, drawn to that calm, detached confidence you wore like armor.
“Surviving, huh?” He repeated, more to himself than to you. “I like that answer.”
You didn’t smile back, but there was a small flicker in your eyes—a brief moment where it almost seemed like you might’ve been amused. He could see it, hidden just beneath the surface of that indifferent expression.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” you said, voice matter-of-fact. “We’re all just waiting for our turn.”
His smile faded for a second. It wasn’t lost on him that you were right. No one in the game was truly safe. He couldn’t shake the idea that your calmness wasn’t just for show, though. You were waiting for your turn, but there was no fear in your eyes.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re too concerned about it,” he noted, crossing his arms. “Most people would be scared, running around like headless chickens. But you? You’re just… here.”
“You’re right,” you said softly, your voice still far too calm for the circumstances. “I guess I’m not scared. Not yet.”
Thanos tilted his head, studying you more closely now. “What’s your deal, huh? You’re not like everyone else in here.”
You blinked, giving him a look that could only be described as mildly curious. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
He shrugged, not exactly answering your question but also not denying it. “Maybe.”
You didn’t respond right away, but there was a beat of silence, a moment where the two of you were left alone in your own thoughts, the rest of the chaos going on around you completely irrelevant.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me,” you said after a while, almost absently. “I’m just aware of things… most people choose to ignore.”
“And what do you think they’re ignoring?”
“Their own mortality.” You leaned back against the cold wall, staring ahead. “Everyone acts like they’re invincible until they’re not. But me?” You looked at him then, your gaze cool but steady. “I’ve already accepted that I’m not. That’s why I don’t react. I don’t have time for it.”
Thanos blinked, the intensity of your words hitting him harder than he expected. He wasn’t sure why, but that calm, grounded air you had around you was starting to do something to him. It was like you were speaking a truth he hadn’t been ready to hear, or maybe didn’t even want to.
“You’re one strange person, Y/N,” he said with a half-smile, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or be genuinely intrigued by what you just said. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you before.”
You didn’t reply immediately, letting the silence hang between you two. But the corners of your mouth twitched, just for a second, like you almost wanted to laugh. Or maybe it was just another strange quirk he didn’t understand.
“You’ll figure it out soon enough, Thanos,” you finally said, using his name with that same strange casualness you used for everything. “Everyone does, eventually.”
He wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise, but Thanos found himself leaning forward slightly, captivated.
“Maybe,” he said, voice softening, his usual bravado slipping for just a moment. “But, uh, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily, are you?”
You glanced at him with that same blank expression, your eyes unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Thanos felt his pulse quicken, that feeling he got when things were starting to shift. There was something about you that got under his skin, something that made him want to figure you out—whether you wanted him to or not. You were like a puzzle, one he didn’t know how to solve, but hell if he wasn’t going to try.
“Good,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on you, Y/N.”
He wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own safety or hers, but for the first time since the game started, he wasn’t thinking about the other players or how to win. All he cared about was you—this strange, unfazed person who didn’t blink at the carnage around her, but still somehow seemed to have a grip on what was really going on.
For now, though, Thanos would be your friend. But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he tried to get closer.
He couldn’t stop himself.
#choi su bong#choi su bong x reader#thanos x reader#thanos#choi su bong fluff#thanos fluff#player 230 x reader#player 230#player 230 fluff#squid game
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hi!! I had an idea for a funny/ prank type fic for frat boy jaehyun!! It’s that one trend where the girl talks about getting a wax appointment (or some other appointment) after a really long time and plays it off as a guy waxes her which usually gets the significant other really confused thinking “a guy waxes you..?” I HOPE U KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😭😭 have a good day💞💞
anoooooon!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS IDEA!!!!
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ what do you mean, he? ⋆⭒˚.⋆
(cw: f!reader, TikTok trend, profanity sugestive, Jaehyun is such a fucking loser (affectionate) in this)
where the girl talks about getting a wax appointment (or some other appointment) after a really long time and plays it off as a guy waxes her which usually gets the significant other really confused thinking “a guy waxes you..?”
"Oh baby!" You sing as you push that door open to Fratboy!Jaehyun's room.
It's a handful of days before his birthday now and all week you've been doing the prep you need for a very romantic and heated night with your own Valentine Boy. You'd gotten your nails done, been doing face masks, done a few hair masks, gotten your eyebrows done, and finally today, "guess who got her coochie waxed!"
Your exclamation is met with a "hell yeah!" from down the hall and a flushed Jaehyun scrambling away from his desk to shut the door behind you.
"Ok, love the news, love the mental image, but what did we say about announcing things like that around here?" Jaehyun asks with rosy cheeks.
"But you guys talk about your dicks and balls all the time, why can't you hear about my coochie?"
"Trust me Sweets, I want to hear about her day and night, but I don't want everyone else to hear about her," Jaehyun chuckles while pressing a kiss on your cheek.
You throw yourself onto his bed, turning to watch him settle back into his chair. He rubs your calf softly, "how was it?"
"Hurt like a bitch, but I'm getting used to it. Ash is pretty good about soothing the pain and has good tips for aftercare and all that," you explain.
"Ash? Didn't you used to go to a Jane or something?"
You smile at him, finding it endearing that he listens to what others would consider to be useless details, "yeah, but Jane is on maternity leave, so now I'm seeing Ash. He's good too—"
"He?!" Jaehyun exclaims with his eyes wide with shock.
"Um, yes, he. Is that a problem?" You ask with a confused tilt of your head.
"A guy waxes you, Sweetheart?"
"What is so confusing about this? Yes, my waxer, Ash, is a guy." You state, still not understanding what his incessant questioning is about.
"Sweetheart, another guy is looking at your... lady bits. Like all up and intimate up there while you're probably like spread eagle and showing yourself to him. Shouldn't you only be like that for me?" He asks, speaking slowly and softly in the hopes that you'll understand his point of view better now.
You roll your eyes and push his hand off your leg, "Ash is a 50 something year old gay man who is married and talks about the recipes he most recently made while he's ripping hair out of my 'lady bits'. Can I make it any more clear that he's not interested and more importantly, I'm not either!"
You stand from the bed, throwing your hands up as you continue, "I mean, hello! I got waxed for you! For your birthday! Duh!"
"You know I don't need you to do anything like that. I'm sorry Sweetheart," Jaehyun apologizes, grabbing your hips and tugging you closer to him until he can nuzzle his head against your stomach, "I just went a little crazy thinking about another guy looking at my girl..."
"Your girl? Jae, guys look at me all the time—" you say with a look of confusion until you're interrupted by a single finger against your lips.
"Not you, my girl," Jaehyun mumbles, dragging his finger down from your lips to the waistband of your pants, "her my girl."
You push his head away with a scoff, "oh fuck off, Jaehyun. Coochie privileges revoked until your birthday."
"Damn..."
#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#nct#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct x reader#nct drabbles#nct blurbs#fratboy!jaehyun#frat!jaehyun#frat!nct#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun scenarios
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It doesn’t feel like Aziraphale and Crowley are the jealous type. For centuries—perhaps even longer—they’ve automatically formed a unique, exclusive alliance, an unspoken understanding that “us” comes above all else.
I know some fics explore Crowley getting jealous over Aziraphale and Oscar Wilde (which is adorable, and I don’t mean to criticize that), but I just don’t think they’d ever be truly bothered by the presence of other people. If Aziraphale takes an interest in an exceptional human, Crowley’s reaction would more likely be the same as with Shakespeare: “Oh, you like this human? Alright, whatever, I’ll do a little miracle to make him famous. My treat.” To these two ancient supernatural beings, interesting humans are just part of their long-running games and amusements. As for the other angels and demons, they cared even less. When a naked man showed up in Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley just said, “Is it something I can help you with?” And when Aziraphale mentioned Jim, Crowley was really confused before saying, Do we know a Jim?
Aziraphale is the same way—Crowley’s car is “our car,” and the life Crowley has carefully carved for himself is something Aziraphale instinctively considers ���ourselves.” Because whether they admit it or not, the idea of someone else coming between them does not exist in their reality.
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