#delay the games and make better experiences

[tj-crochets]

okay crafting is probably delayed again I possibly overdid it today and had another flareup of Weird Bad but it did not result in Unexpected Floor Time this time so I think I'm getting better?

[after-witch]

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you. 

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters. 

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess. 

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.” 

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal. 

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?” 

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room. 

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips. 

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse. 

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel. 

“Then show me.” 

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke. 

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts. 

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?” 

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.” 

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

--

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair. 

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning. 

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say. 

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.” 

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains. 

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles. 

“Don’t.” 

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again. 

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.” 

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.” 

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward. 

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up. 

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches  in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable. 

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!” 

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end. 

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them. 

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you. 

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

[predestinatos]

we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!”  “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

 “And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

[pinkponyglitter]

Dating Emily Prentiss Headcanons ᝰ.ᐟ

notes; this is silly, but i was reeeally bored and didn’t feel good enough to write anything else. also tumblr is acting up, and it pisses me off. btw, i did it for fun, so please don’t be pressed about it.

some of those are nsfw. you are responsible for your own media consumption. minors do not interact !!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she loooves to use pet names, especially the ones like; my love, gorgeous, angel, sweet/pretty girl. she doesn’t really like to be called anything other than emily or em. pet names are a must, but not when it comes to her. they’re reserved for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she absolutely adores you. she is your biggest supporter in literally everything, and she is showing you off every chance she gets.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she doesn’t like to talk about her emotions, and she’s also not really good at it. she’s trying really hard for you, and she’s doing much better than before. she still has some days, when she just stuck in her head — but if there’s someone who can help her, it’s you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ physical touch is her love language. she absolutely devours intimacy. showering together, you sleeping on top of her chest. small stolen kisses when you’re at the office, sliding her hands into your jean’s pockets. brief touches. anything that keeps her close to you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ gifts, good restaurants and date nights. she always make sure to have at least two date nights in a month. she has money and she loves to spoil you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you always ask her if she has games on her phone, and that makes her absolutely feral — you know she doesn’t, but her reaction is always so funny and ridiculously exaggerated that you can’t stop yourself.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ “are you sure?” she always asks. even if she knows that your answer is “yes”. she needs to hear it every single time.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ cooking together — she’s obsessed with it, even if she’s not the best at cooking it’s fun to experiment with you. she often ends up calling rossi for help, and you always laugh at her trying to explain what went wrong.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sometimes you just read together. you take one of your books, she takes of of hers and snuggling up with each other you have quiet time. you often break the silence to comment on something, and she’s more than happy to discuss it with you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ salsa classes! you didn’t want to, but she dragged you there, and at first you were super grumpy about that. everything changed when you saw her actually invested — you decided that you can make a foul of yourself from time to time, to see her smile. it’s worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she’s absolutely the worst at texting people back. you always remind her to keep you updated, especially when she’s away. she forgets a lot, or just sends you thumb emoji in response.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ showing weakness is the end of the world for her. she doesn’t understand why someone like you, would put up with someone as broken as her. so when she needs help, she hesitate to ask. after a while you start to catch up pretty quickly — she doesn’t need to ask anymore, you just know. it’s much easier for her to just receive.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she’s insecure about her scars. when you started dating, she delayed sleeping with you for as long as she could. sometimes you catch her touching her scars, just tracing on top of them with her finger. you always remind her that it doesn’t define her.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she was the one to say ‘i love you’ first. it caught you off guard, as she said that while you were crying — you were having a bad day, and she didn’t hesitate to fix it. she was whispering small affirmations into your ear, holding you close and the words just slipped out of her mouth.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she always compliments the smallest things. things that people don’t usually notice, or they just don’t care enough to compliment them. sometimes it’s the lipstick you use, sometimes it’s your hair, new perfume, new jewelry. something. anything. it’s like she can’t stop herself, so she finds the smallest things.

nsfw;

⊹ ࣪ ˖ slow mornings on days off equals morning sex. slow, tender, sweet — something different than you both are into normally, but both of you absolutely love it. in most cases you end in the shower afterwards, and that usually ends with another round.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she’s a dom. she doesn’t give up the power easily, so when she does you always make sure to give her everything you have in you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ she is absolutely obsessed with you calling her mommy. at first it kind of started as a joke, but then you decided to use the mommy card when you were really desperate, and surprisingly it worked — you never went back.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ hickeys are a routine, you almost always have at least one somewhere on your body. although, it’s never in a place that people can see, she does it for you and herself. only.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ office sex happens more often than you intend. you both know that you probably shouldn’t. hell, you shouldn’t. period. somehow you end up fucking in her office a lot. she loves to throw you on her desk, and fuck the attitude you give her at work out of you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you wearing her clothes is a huge turn on for her. if she could, she would climb the walls every single time you wore something of hers.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ getting you off is more than enough. she enjoys your body, the small gasps and moans. every sound you make is music to her ears. they way you shiver and squirm under her touch. it’s the best reward.

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

[subbmissivesuccubus]

R-V (Renngoku X Fem!ReaderX Uzui)

Part 4 of my A-Z Series <3 <3 <3

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it makes you happy, the two men are willing to try whatever you want atleast once. If they try it and didn't like it, they'll let you know but they can atleast say they gave it a fair shot. Of course, they won't compromise on their hard limits so you won't get them to be submissive for you but, they do enjoy it when you take the lead, being more assertive in your affection towards them. If there are any kinks, role-plays, toys or any general change in your sex life that you want to attempt, they're always ready to try it out for you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You thought you had good stamina thanks to your life as a demon slayer. With your breathing techniques and rigorous training, your durability in bed also improved and you can even delay your orgasm using your breathing skills if you so choose. But you quickly realized your endurance was nothing compared to your two lovers. To be fair, you had to please both of them, but even so, their stamina was no joke. Perhaps it came with being hashira's as the control they had over their bodies and breathing was much better than yours. They could fuck you for hours and not show signs of slowing down, their cocks still erect despite dumping numerous loads inside you. And just like you, they can also delay their climax, edging themselves as they indulge in your body, loving your whines of frustration as they make you cum over and over again (you even challenged them once- telling them that you will use your breathing techniques to not orgasm no matter what they do to you. How wrong you were. Not even your breathing techniques could defeat their skills in the bedroom) without giving you the satisfaction of filling you up with their seed. They absolutely loved breaking you down into a sobbing, slobbering mess, eyes rolled to the back of your head and body convulsing from all the pleasure so having the stamina to get you to that point was pretty handy. Of course, things would have been a lot more difficult for everybody if you were a regular, non demon slaying person who'd have to clock out after a few rounds. But you're strong enough to take it <3 another reason why they adore you so much.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At the time that they live in, sex toys are limited to just things one can insert inside themselves or objects used to clamp onto things. While Rangoku isn't one to use toys- the man thinking that two cocks to stuff into your pretty holes is enough- Uzui loves them. There's something about plunging a wooden cock inside you over and over again, giving him a perfect view of your red face, sweat dripping down your brow as you whined at the feeling, without being distracted by his own pleasure. His favorite though, and Rengoku agrees this is nice as well, is to use clamps on your nipples. Your little squeal of pain as your nipples are harshly pinched by a clamp, your sensitive bud squeezed tightly instantly makes his cock hard. Attach those clamps with a couple of chains and Uzui will pull on them as he fucks you, the threat of the clamps getting tugged off your nipples making your pussy tighten around his cock.

If you're really bratty and naughty, he might just use a clamp on your poor little clit...yikes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Both of the men love to tease you and it's simultaneously amazing yet exhausting. Rengoku enjoys teasing you with words, whispering naughty things to you at inappropriate times to get you hot and bothered. Out shopping? Hanging out with friends? Before an important meeting? "I can't wait until we get home, my love. Oh, the things I want to do to your body~" "You're such a pretty little girl, you know that? And you'll look even prettier on your knees, sucking my cock~" "Mind your attitude or I might just have to throw you over my knee and punish your ass. You think I won't do it in front of your friends?"

Uzui is much more handsy with his teasing but, of course, he's a man of a filthy tongue and is capable of reducing you brain to mush with a few words. His favorite is to tease you with some gropes and touches, especially in public. Your beet red face after he lightly tapped your ass while you walked is something he enjoys immensely. Unlike Rengoku who'll take you as soon as you get privacy, Uzui will continue to tease, riling you up even more. "Such a desperate princess, aren't you? What's with that look on your face? Is you pussy already wet and desperate for me? All I did was lightly touch you, sweetheart. If you want my cock, you're going to have to earn it."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Uzui let's out these growls from deep within his chest, the sound making your pussy clench around his cock. He also has a habit of letting out breathy laughs, especially when he's gotten you fucked out and cock drunk. He looks down at you, hair matted to his sweaty forehead with a cocky smirk on his face as he laughs at your expression, the sound making your body shudder. Uzui is one to indulge in dirty talk however so his moans are mixed with his filthy, filthy words: "Look at you- fuck- poor baby~ Crying all over my mmm- my cock. Does it feel good honey? Hmm? My fat cock- fuck yes- splitting your tiny pussy open? Hahaha- fuck- Ooo~ You're such a fucking slut for us- I love it~"

Rengoku is more vocal when he feels pleasure, his moans sounding heavenly. There was something about seeing his face red and eyebrows furrowed, mouth open as he moans in pleasure, your pussy squeezing his cock so deliciously. He'll hug you close as he fucks you, moaning directly into your ear which makes you feel so lightheaded you're surprised you haven't passed out. "So good- so good. Darling- your pussy- ah- ah- fuck- feels so good~""Good girl. good girl. Ah yes- fuck that's tight- just relax baby. Let me- oh god- let me fuck this ass~"

Your head always feels loopy and overstimulated thanks to the sex, but couple their noises while they fuck you? You need a two day break to recover. While individually they might not be the most vocal- when they fuck you together, perhaps fueled with the desire to have your attention be focused on them, they don't bite down their moans and groans and growls. The worst (or best?) is when they're double stuffing you, one cock in your pussy with the other in your ass as they both take an ear to moan into, making your brain short-wire as your assaulted by pleasure and their heavenly voices and moans.

[getvalentined]

Decomposition Versus Dissolution: The Breakdown of Bodies in Final Fantasy VII

Warnings for discussion of death, dead bodies, and the desecration thereof, as well as references to digestive and gastrointestinal processes including illness. Features images of dead fictional characters and spoilers for basically the entire Compilation.

This is something I've been chewing on for quite a while, and this post is a bit of a doozy because of detailed examples cited to indicate support for this interpretation. It doesn't work 100% of the time, but it's consistent enough that I'm comfortable personally accepting it as accurate enough, and talking with @skadren about it earlier gave me the impetus to finally organize it well enough to put out into the public sphere. Consider this my personal standard model of Gaian decomposition—if and when we get a better canonical explanation, I'll take it, but for now this works for me, so maybe it'll work for you too!

In the world of Final Fantasy VII, there are four possible outcomes after the death of an animal lifeform:

Decomposition – Organic breakdown of physical remains over time after death, as seen in the real world.

Dissolution – The energetic breakdown of physical remains at the moment of death.

Delayed Dissolution – The sudden energetic breakdown of physical remains at some point after the moment of death, prior to the onset of traditional decomposition.

Rejection – Cases in which the remains neither decompose nor dissolve, physical remains left intact and energetic remains unabsorbed by the Lifestream.

Floral and fungal life appear to be subject only to decomposition, while the outcomes for native microbial and viral lifeforms are unknown. This piece considers all fiends, even those with characteristics similar to floral lifeforms, to be animals, although it's more likely that fiends in-universe comprise their own unique clade on the tree of life.

There's very little information within canonical lore to even directly imply the determining factors for any given outcome, but we can gain insight on these factors by noting when and where a given outcome occurs.

We do have to accept that some instances are based entirely on game mechanics rather than on any lore, as sometimes the field needs to be cleared in order to maintain the gameplay experience, but the fact that we see all of these in cutscenes through the series make it clear that it isn't only a game mechanic.

Based on known instances, prerequisites appear to be as follows:

Decomposition occurs in lifeforms with no or low mako exposure, or with a unique connection to the planet. These remains are able to rot naturally, as that's the most effective way for their remains to feed Gaia's life cycle, helping to "feed" the planet physically as well as energetically. If we consider the reabsorption of living things in terms of digestion, this would be equivalent to consumption of a so-called "whole food." We can assume this is the case based on the existence of livestock within the FF7 universe, and the known canonical instances of this outcome:

• Ifalna – body dissected by Hojo. (source: FF7R)

• Seto – body petrified and intact in Cosmo Canyon (source: OG, FF7R, OTWTAS)

• Aerith Gainsborough – body put to rest in water. (source: OG, AC)

• Dyne – body buried by Dio. (source: FF7R)

• Melphie Kusakabe – body found by Sonon. (source: FF7R)

• Kalm and Nibelheim locals – bodies used in experimentation. (source: OG, BC)

• North Corel and Gongaga locals – bodies buried by other residents. (source: OG, FF7R)

• Wutaian NPCs – bodies found outside Nibel Reactor. (source: FF7R)

• Rhadoran NPCs – bodies buried by Sephiroth. (source: FF7EC)

• Mr. and Mrs. Rhapsodos – bodies buried by Genesis. (source: CCFF7)

• Unnamed Turks – bodies buried by Genesis. (source: CCFF7)

• Most non-fiend animals – The presence of meat makes this pretty obvious. (source: OG, FF7R)

Dissolution occurs in lifeforms with moderate to high mako exposure, presumably due to energetic destabilization at the point of death rendering the remains much easier for the planet to reabsorb. Following the same digestion comparison as above, this is similar to the human body's accelerated processing of refined sugars as compared to raw sugars or whole foods. This also appears to occur based on the will of the planet, but the these cases are extremely rare, with only one known occurrence.

We can assume this is accurate based on the following known instances:

• Grimoire Valentine – body began to dissolve while still alive but actively dying, disintegrating entirely at the moment of death. May be a special case due to cause of death. (source: DCFF7)

• Lazard Deusericus – body dissolved at the moment of death. (source: CCFF7)

• Secondary Project G Subjects – bodies most often seen to dissolve at the moment of death in both gameplay and cutscenes, except in rare cases discussed below. (source: CCFF7, DCFF7)

• Midgar locals – implied by the dramatic lack of corpses following the Sector 7 plate drop. (source: FF7R)

• Shinra employees – implied by the dramatic lack of corpses following Zack's last stand, as well as the presence of equipment but no bodies in Nero's training room. (source: OG, CCFF7, FF7R)

• Various fiends – shown to occur in both gameplay and cutscenes. (source: CCFF7, DCFF7, FF7R, FF7EC)

• Kadaj – body began to dissolve while still alive but actively dying. Dissolution appears to have been based on the will of the planet rather than energetic instability. (source: AC)

Delayed dissolution occurs when the remains have been subject to certain types or levels of energetic corruption, even when paired with high levels of mako exposure. This appears to occur either due to an inability for the planet to reabsorb the remains immediately, or because of a partial rejection from the Lifestream.

Energetic corruption in the world of FF7 is stored in the Void and eventually consumed by Chaos, as shown in Dirge of Cerberus; it's safe to assume that these delays occur due to Chaos being more or less unavailable during the course of known canon, having been removed from its post in the mid-1970s and hosted in Vincent Valentine's body in the early 1980s. This explains the growing pollution of the Lifestream during the course of canon, as the planet's primary filtration system is missing or damaged until after Omega's premature awakening, but the energy in question is still compatible with the Lifestream to a high enough degree to eventually be reabsorbed.

Following the digestion metaphor established earlier, this would be similar to eating heavily processed or partially spoiled food with a damaged gut biome, leading to slow digestion, discomfort, and eventual illness.

These cases are slightly more difficult to confirm, but are proven to occur via cutscenes and narrative in the following instances:

• Zack Fair – body persisted long enough for Cloud to collect himself and leave after a year of catatonia, but neither present at later visits to the location nor indicated in any source to have been recovered following his last stand. Shown to have been "taken" by Angeal, although this may have been strictly thematic. (source: OG, CCFF7)

• Angeal Hewley – confirmed by Hojo's statement via mission brief that his body was not recovered, in spite of having persisted after death in Modeoheim. (source: CCFF7)

• Gillian Hewley – unconfirmed but presumable based on the persistence of her body during the razing of Banora and the delayed dissolution of all primary and some secondary Project G subjects. (source: CCFF7, FF7EC)

• Professor Hojo – as shown in the screenshot at the top of this section. (source: DCFF7)

• Lucrecia Crescent – indicated by her body's persistence even as her energetic remains have been slowly eroded by the Lifestream over time, even after her initial rejection from the Lifestream similar to discussion below. (source: OG, DCFF7)

• Secondary Project G Subjects – most notably a handful of Copies from both Genesis and Angeal. This may be based on their manner of death, as Copies killed in the presence of Sephiroth seem to persist for a time, while those killed elsewhere do not. (source: CCFF7)

• DeepGround SOLDIERS – shown to leave corpses persistently enough for Nero to play with them in order to scare his opponents, but indicated to eventually dissolve based on the presence of damaged gear but lack of corpses in Nero's training room. (source: DCFF7, FF7R)

• Various fiends – shown to occur in gameplay and cutscenes. (source: CCFF7, FF7R, FF7EC)

• Various NPCs – energetically only, shown to be incapable of disseminating into the Lifestream after death due to some polluting action or affect applied during life. Should not be confused with rejection, discussed below, as the energetic remains of these lifeforms will eventually dissolve properly. (source: DCFF7, OTWTAS)

Rejection is the most rare outcome following death, at least with regard to physical bodies; energetic rejection is slightly more common by volume, but only because of one very large group energetically rejected by the Lifestream at a point several thousand years pre-canon.

Rejection is only indicated to occur for one of two reasons:

Incompatibility with the Lifestream itself.

The will of the planet based on necessity.

In cases of incompatibility, it's similar to the concept of mixing oil and water, two materials that will always eventually separate if not subjected to a chemical change to allow incorporation. With regards to the will of the planet, this occurs when the subject in question is integral to the continued functioning of the planet itself, and can't be allowed to remain physically decomposed or to energetically disseminate. To complete the metaphor of consumption and digestion, rejection via incompatibility would be instances of eating materials that can't be digested and should be ejected from the body, while rejection due to planetary processes is similar to swallowing something important and intentionally inducing vomiting in order to reclaim the item in question.

There are only six known cases of complete rejection, and one population-wide case of strictly energetic rejection:

• Jenova – complete rejection, body in usable condition with will intact even thousands of years after death. Remains persist in usable condition even years after destruction of main portion just prior to Meteorfall. Rejection appears to be caused by incompatibility due to extraterrestrial origin, as most individuals with Jenova infection, even severe cases, are eventually capable of dissolution to some degree. (source: OG, AC, FF7R)

• Sephiroth – complete rejection, body mostly intact and will fully intact five years after his death in the Nibelheim Incident, with will remaining energetically active even after final destruction of body. Body also capable of being reconstituted based on force of will. Rejection presumed to be caused by incompatibility due to Jenova's extraterrestrial origins. (source: OG, AC, FF7R, OTWTAS)

• Vincent Valentine – complete rejection, body regenerates and reconstitutes after death on multiple occasions. Originally serving as host to Chaos—a Weapon—the powers bestowed by this role persist even after its consciousness returns to the planet, proven by Vincent's return to form in Chaos' cave following complete physiological destruction during his last stand to stop Omega. This repeated rejection from the Lifestream, both physically and energetically, implies Vincent's position postcanon is that of Chaos' successor, not its container, rendering him integral to planetary processes. (source: OG, AC, DCFF7, OTWTAS)

• Cloud Strife – complete rejection, rejected from the Lifestream and healed of mortal wounds and illness multiple times. Rather than being due to incompatibility based on his S-cell infection, Cloud's rejections being fairly gentle—similar to Vincent's—seems to imply he's integral to planetary processes, presumably due to his unique ability to subdue Sephiroth. (source: OG, AC)

• Nero the Sable – complete rejection, body reconstitutes in the Void upon death while will and energetic remains persist on multiple occasions. Genetic relation to Chaos through use of corrupted mako in his conception presumably lead to him being viewed as equally integral to planetary processes, even if this may not be the case. (source: FF7DC, FF7R)

• Weiss the Immaculate – complete rejection, body persists even after death with will intact in spite of assumptions to the contrary and canonical complete energetic purity. Rejection appears to be due to his position as vessel of Omega, another Weapon, which renders him integral to planetary processes in much the same way as Vincent Valentine. (source: FF7DC)

• The Gi – energetic rejection only, affecting the entire species, although some bodies appear to still be intact in Cosmo Canyon for use in merit trials; possibly reconstituted through force of will, but more likely maintained by locals for cultural reasons. Rejection is due to incompatibility with the Lifestream, as the Gi are extraterrestrial lifeforms much like Jenova. (source: FF7R)

Again, there are instances that go against this interpretation, although those primarily take place in gameplay rather than in cutscenes or narrative, lending credence to the concept that these exceptions are based on game mechanics rather than lore.

If you read this far and this speaks to you, great! I'm glad I was able to shed some light on this particularly confusing fictional subject! If you read this far and this doesn't speak to you, that's also fine! Implications within canon don't necessarily make a particular interpretation the canonical one, after all.

Either way, thank you so much for lending me your time—I hope it was an enjoyable read, if nothing else.

Source Key: OG - Final Fantasy VII (1997) | AC - Advent Children (2005) + Complete (2009) | BC - Before Crisis (2004) | DCFF7 - Dirge of Cerberus (2006) | CCFF7 - Crisis Core (2007) + Reunion (2022) | FF7R - Final Fantasy VII Remake (2020) + Rebirth (2024) | FF7EC - Ever Crisis (2023) | OTWTAS - On The Way To A Smile (2004, 2009)

[strawberryblue-blog]

please do the fc barcelona boys (fermin, lamine, hector, pedri, marc) with a volleyball player gf plsspslpssplsps im on my knees begging

Volleyball player girlfriend

—FC Barcelona.

summary: How would they react to having a girlfriend who plays volleyball?

warnings: none. cute, soft.

#SEXYNOTE: I apologize for the delay. I've already started classes again and i'm picking up the pace.

I hope the person who asked for this enjoyed it. Thank you very much, love you 💝

Fermin Lopez.

He was very surprised when you told him you play volleyball, it's a sport he really likes so he would go to see you every game. Even if he has training or concentration he will do his best to come and watch you play.

He will want you to teach him all about the sport, he will listen attentively and try to play with you. He is very supportive and proud that you are so good and especially that you don't give up when you lose.

On the volleyball court, he follows you with his eyes every move you make. The determination in his eyes and the grace with which you move around the court fills you with admiration. Every point in your favor is a shared victory that strengthens the connection between you, making you appreciate your passion for the game even more.

Lamine Yamal.

He was so happy that you invited him to a game as a first date. He loves any sport and watching you play volleyball was like a crush for him. He loves that you are as passionate about something as he is about football.

He would take you to every practice, he would even stay and watch you for support. He would go to your games, buy your jersey, bet on your team, be your number one fan and be proud of your talent and skill.

As he watch the volleyball game, Lamine feel a mixture of nerves and excitement. Every time you serve well or defend skillfully, he experiences a surge of joy for you. The intensity of the match seems to mirror your own emotions, creating a unique bond between the sport and the connection you share with him.

Hector Fort.

He would be so excited to go to your games, he would be in number one fan mode. He loves to support you no matter how much you have to travel to other places, if he has the day off he will definitely drive to you.

He is not a good player but he would play with you all afternoon even if you kicked his ass. You guys have fun playing, watching games, supporting each other. He loves that you have a passion like he does and that you both can enjoy each other in every sport.

As he immerses himself in the world of volleyball, he becomes your most fervent spectator. Every time you connect with the ball, he feels a special throbbing in his heart. The emotion and effort you put into every play not only fills him with pride but also reinforces the complicity you share.

Pedri Gonzalez.

Actually that's how you met, he went to a game with the boys and it was like love at first sight, apart from the talent and good attitude you had on the field.

He's just another fan, he always tries to encourage you, he goes to every game or watches them on TV, he wears your jersey, he would come to see you with his whole family. He is a proud boyfriend and admires you for your warmth and discipline.

From the stands, he watches in admiration as his girlfriend rises to the challenge on the court. Every serve, every block, every point, awakens in him a mixture of emotion and unconditional support. His attention is reflected in your every move, creating a special bond between his love for the sport and you.

Marc Guiu.

He thought it was so cool when you told him you played volleyball. He had never met anyone who would play any other sport besides football and he really found it interesting.

He would play with you and be very competitive, he knows that way you can train better and get better. He would definitely go to your games, wear your jerseys and be the proud boyfriend posting pictures and everything about you playing and cheering you on.

He is always in the stands, watching in admiration as his girlfriend dominates the volleyball court. Every graceful move and every powerful attack awakens in him an irrepressible pride. His support reflected in every serve and the joy in his eyes as he celebrates a point make you feel lucky to have him by your side.

[elicathebunny]

🏹𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄.

🖤 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

𝑰. 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭-𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬?

𝑰𝑰. 𝑾𝑯𝒀 𝑫𝑶 𝑾𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬?

𝑰𝑰𝑰. 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑫𝑶 𝑾𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭-𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫?

𝑰𝑽. 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫.

🖤 𝐈. 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄?

Self-discipline: the ability to control one's feelings and overcome one's weaknesses.

e.g. waking up early, making your bed every day, working out consistently, being on time, etc...

🖤 𝐈𝐈. 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄?

Unclear Goals

Motivation Issues

Fear of Failure

Distractions

Instant Gratification

Perfectionism

Burnout

Lack of Accountability

External Validation

Inconsistent Habits

Impulsive Behavior

🖤𝑰𝑰𝑰. 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑫𝑶 𝑾𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭-𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫?

Set smart goals: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-Bound

Start small and build up over time: "For example, if your ultimate goal is to run five miles without stopping, set an initial goal of running a quarter mile without stopping." This helps with burnout and gets you used to doing difficult things by starting relatively easily.

The 5-second rule: When you have a thought or feeling, act within 5 seconds before your brain starts rationalising and talking you out.

Create a routine: Set up a daily schedule that aligns with your goals. Having a routine helps build consistency, making it easier to stay disciplined over time.

Embrace Failure: Don't fear mistakes. Instead, view them as valuable learning experiences. Analyse what went wrong, adjust your approach and move forward stronger. Don't beat yourself up for bad days, use those days as a reference for what you can do better and what not to repeat again. Don't give up after a few tries, keep going and fall in love with the process.

Minimise Distractions: Identify activities or environments that distract you. Minimising these distractions creates a focused space for you to work on your goals and reduces procrastination.

Make your goals visible: Make a vision board out of them, make them your wallpaper, stick them on your fridge, blue tack them to your walls, put pictures around your mirror and write them down in a place where you can clearly see them to remind yourself constantly of what you want.

Prioritise Tasks: Learn to prioritise tasks based on their importance and impact on your goals. This helps you allocate your time and energy efficiently.

Pushing through: Sometimes we don't like or want to do the things that are good for us. In these situations, you honestly have to choose between getting closer to your goal or staying where you are now. Imagine yourself in the next 6 months if you stay consistent, or are you going to just keep dreaming and waste another year?

Knowing your limits: Knowing how far you need to push yourself and when to stop is necessary. You don't want to overdo this process. Giving yourself goals that are so far out of reach before doing things to narrow the gaps will make you give up.

Practice Delayed Gratification: Train yourself to resist immediate rewards for the sake of long-term benefits. This skill is fundamental to maintaining discipline, especially when faced with tempting shortcuts. "An example of delayed gratification is a parent asking a child to clean up their room or finish their homework before the child can play video games."

🖤𝑰𝑽. 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑫.

Set Realistic Goals: Ensure your goals are achievable and realistic. Unrealistic expectations can lead to frustration and a decline in discipline. Although it is still good to aim big, aiming big without connecting the dots on how you will get there will leave you confused and might lead you to give up.

Celebrate Small Wins: Acknowledge and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small. This positive reinforcement keeps you motivated and on track.

Review and Adjust: Regularly assess your progress and be willing to adjust your approach. Flexibility is key to overcoming challenges and staying disciplined in the long run.

Visual Reminders: Keep your goals visible. Create visual reminders or vision boards to reinforce your commitment and consistent action.

Establish a Routine: Stick to a daily routine that incorporates your goals. Consistency builds habits, and habits are the foundation of discipline.

Stay Accountable: Share your goals with someone who can provide support and hold you accountable. This could be a friend, family member, or mentor.

Prioritise Self-Care: Ensure you're taking care of your physical and mental well-being. A healthy, balanced lifestyle contributes to sustained discipline.

Learn from Setbacks: Instead of seeing setbacks as failures, view them as learning opportunities. Understand what went wrong and use it as insight for improvement.

Avoid Overcommitting: Be mindful of your limitations. Overcommitting can lead to burnout and a decline in discipline. Focus on quality rather than quantity.

Stay Intrinsically Motivated: Cultivate internal motivation by reminding yourself of the intrinsic benefits of your goals. Connect emotionally with your objectives.

Embody your potential.

xoxo 💋 @elicathebunny

[xylax]

Gamedev vs life

Hi I wanted to thank fans/players for patience regarding markings. I am grateful beyond belief how basically entire playerbase was so nice about it all. I got so touched, because I was so scared to disappoint you all. Thank you so much. <3

I am working hard to make up for the delay, I am very sorry it came to that point, I am very ashamed I underestimated amount of work vs manpower, and encouraged to start the encounters before everything was ready, thinking "Of course it's gonna be ready". But it's not 2018 anymore. It's not 1400 files per stage, it's ~3000, totalling 18.000 files for Jaglions... Plus - lot of things happened. Almost entire staff team got sick or experienced very difficult life news that impacted progress. However, I will talk about my situation, as this is my blog.

This month, I have finally been diagnosed with osteoarthritis. It's been an issue for years, but in last 2 years it significally affected quality of my life - this was final drop in sea of needs to get an extra lion files artist in late 2023.

In June this year I suffered a joint inflammation that made me unable to walk. My fingers bend sideways, are stiff and painful. I did receive a steroid treatment but it was not enough to affect the knee, however my fingers feel a bit better, which is nice for drawing! I also received prescription for a painkiller that works better with joints - which is a nice change from just ketoprofen I've been taking. I have more appointments set to see what treatments I can get.

I have to address that it has been affecting my work, and with this, how players experience the game I work on. It is unfair that it affects the enjoyment of the game, and we want to do everything to remedy this.

An artist who already has been with us for years just received a new contract to help us with lion files, and we are looking into getting another decor artist (we're reviewing the portfolio right now!), making us potentially get 3 new artists this year alone. I hope this will help with improving quality and tempo of the game growth. I think Wolvden gets a lot more diversity in artists and a lot less stages/files currently, so it's not an issue yet - however I hope the way we work on Lioden which is always so time-consuming will also positively impact Wolvden in future, as it grows.

Thank you again for your patience with me, DMs with support and stern feedback - I appreciate everything, always. I want this game to be so much fun and to always be pleasure to look at.

Also, fuck genAI, as always. o7

[mxlissaliss]

Happy Mother's Day ft. Hades, Poseidon and Adam (RoR)

Notes: Just some headcanons of your sweet self choosing thoughtful gifts for your momma with the company of your dad, yippee. A bit too long, perhaps.

• That's it, and Happy Mother's Day y'all!

☠️ Hades

-These kinds of events were considerably insignificant for the Gods. They were immortal beings that have existed for eons, entire lifetimes of knowledge and infinite experience.

- Not for Hades, though, because both he and Persephone were so in love with you the moment you were born that, all of a sudden, counting the days started to make sense.

- Every year for Mother's Day, both you and Hades would work together to get Persephone a ton of presents that you knew she'd love.

- However, this year things went a little differently.

- There you were, walking through your private garden, meticulously picking different flowers for a beautiful bouquet you wanted to make for her, going through each one to examine it carefully. Your fingers inspected the petals, their texture, their color, how they smelled… Oh, and that was just a little detail. A servant behind you was carrying at least six bags filled with jewelry, perfumes, sweets and even more flowery gifts for you angel of a mother!

- And guess what, out of all those presents, your father had only chosen two. The rest of the contents inside those bags remained a mystery to him because an emergency meeting delayed his arrival to the shopping spree, and you already had those bags when he made an appearance.

- Speaking of your father, he was standing a few meters away from you, observing from afar. To say that he was shocked would have been an understatement.

- He was FLABBERGASTED because how in all of Helheim did you manage to outthink him when it came to choosing gifts? And for his beloved wife, no less?! Nonsense! He married Persephone eons ago and knew her better than anyone else, he was absolutely sure! So, uh…

- How the hell did you think of all those other gifts?

- Alright, you were as witty and thoughtful as him, that much he knew. His chest would swell with a warm feeling of pride whenever you managed to beat him at a chess game, or hold a discussion about usually difficult-to-talk-about subjects without stuttering at all.

- He also knew that you guys had similar taste for an awful lot of things, such as music, art, colors, decoration, literature, history, and so on. But even so, how could you possibly think so quickly about this huge amount of things for your mother when he couldn't?

- Wait, no, he was not going to act like a competitive idiot with his daughter. After all, he had promised Persephone last night to take her out for a fancy dinner, then an intimate walk through Helheim and, lastly, some fun time alone in their bedchambers.

- Still! Did you get the advantage because he was too focused on his endless workload that he somehow neglected a part of this special day for his beloved? Or was he finally getting old and doomed to be beat from now on by his own youngling?

- Oh, the sheer horror…

“Papaaa, is someone home?” You waved your hand before his eyes with a raised eyebrow, not knowing why your father seemed so out of it for a moment there. That was uncharacteristic of him.

Hades blinked a couple of times and sighed heavily, before cracking his serious expression with a proud smirk that made you smile, “It seems that you have surpassed your old man this year with the presents. Good to see, my child.”

You stared at him for a minute or two, before waving a dismissive hand with slightly colored cheeks, “Oh, no, none of that. You just wrote down the list of gifts for this year and left it unattended on your desk. Cerberus brought it to me last night thinking that it was a list of chores, and I came to realize after reading it that most of your ideas were the same as my own. Crazy, isn't it?”

- Oh, so that was it. He had to laugh loudly at that because it was so simple it became a joke.

- By the time you made it home, Persephone barely had a chance to speak before you jumped straight into her arms, grinning widely.

- Hades followed behind, handing her half of the gifts while you gave her the other half.

- In the end, the majority of the gifts you chose were the same ones he wanted to buy first, which earned you a hearty laugh and some head pats.

- Cerberus, of course, also received his well-deserved snuggles and belly rubs. What a good hellhound.

- While your mother opened her presents in delight, you recalled your father's words earlier today on the way home.

“It seems that we had the same ideas, huh? Well, let's just say that it all came from your wallet this year… Next time, though, it will be my treat.”

🌊 Poseidon

- Mother's Day? Gifts? Dinner date? What the heck were you even saying?

- Your father was known for a lot of things, but if you ever had to list the most important ones, you'd go with: first of all, a very busy man; second, a serious, powerful deity that rules his domain with an iron fist. Never doubts, never stutters and won't ever stand for any kind of bullshit; and third, an a*hole.

- You loved him, you really did, and you knew it was mutual. Out of all his offspring, you were the only one that he openly cared for (Triton also made it into that list, but not nearly as close as you).

- You also knew that he loved Amphitrite despite his apparent inability to show it. It was difficult to understand until you reached a more mature age, but even so, you couldn't help but wonder why out of all his brothers, your father was the worst when it came to being affectionate.

- This God could be so stubborn and irrational sometimes, he immediately declined all the offers you did without time for explanations.

- Nevertheless, all you had to do was use your ridiculously adorable and convincing puppy-dog-eyes to get him to go shopping for gifts with you a day before the occasion.

- The things is, presents have become an almost insignificant thing for your father, and you couldn't blame him for it, in a way.

- Wealthy like no other, feared and respected by every single deity out there, it was tacit that anything and everything would get straight into his hands should he ever ask for it. So… Choosing gifts for Amphitrite was not easy because it probably didn't even cross his mind. He could get her anything she wanted, whenever she wanted, so what was the point of doing it for a specific day?

- On your side, you had very good ideas and got a rather large selection of gifts for your beloved mother. She wasn't all that complicated to please, really. Handmade details and useful presents were her favorite, and you already had those prepared months back in your chambers.

- But your father was having a rather… Difficult time with this entire ordeal. You could say it was almost comical to see him glaring at a necklace made of blue pearls, as if it would burn from his gaze alone.

- Though, more than disgust or contempt, it was a look of condescension.

“Papa,” you approached him with a little smile, trying not to laugh at his expression, “I can tell you're having a hard time choosing something for mom… Need any help?”

- No response, he simply scoffed and turned around, leaving you alone with the servants at the boutique.

- Whatever, you kind of expected a reaction of sorts so you just shrugged it off and continued to look around for more presents. Your mother deserved to be spoiled, and everything was going as planned.

- Except for one little surprise you definitely did not foresee for the night; your father, sitting at his desk with a painfully focused expression as he inserted a new pearl in the thin, delicate and almost invisible silk threads. The gems gleamed with a soft blue light, but they also had this purple tone to them that turned pink at a certain angle. It was so beautiful…

- Wait, was he making a necklace? Ooooh, so that was it. He was glaring at the jewelry earlier today because he thought he could do better than that. Typical move from your tyrant of a father.

- But what made for a truly heartwarming sight was the tiny hint of a smile on his otherwise stoic face when he finished the necklet and held it up against the moonlight that entered through the skylight, and how he made sure to set it down gently inside a small gift-box that he grabbed from a drawer.

- Once again, you simply smiled and quietly leaned against the doorframe, not making a sound as to not disrupt his little moment.

- You immediately knew that your mother was going to be elated to receive a handmade gift from her usually cold husband.

- … Well, even if you knew that he was most likely going to deny the love allegations and hide it all behind a predictable “doing it out of pride and not because he knew that his wife liked handcrafted details” bullshit argument.

- The gift was what mattered, anyways!

🍃 Adam

- Quite the opposite from the other two, your father was even more excited than you at the prospect of Mother's Day.

- He loved Eve so dearly that any excuse to spoil her rotten with riches and gifts was valid. And you thought the same, because your sweet mother deserved it.

- However, Adam always ended up making it feel like a competition, which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that he's always loved to rub it on your face every time he felt like he won.

- But this year? You wouldn’t let it happen again. You had enough!

- You grabbed your bag, your absurdly long list titled “present ideas for mama Eve A.K.A. Best Mama Ever” and headed out.

- … Welp.

- Time skip to six hours later, you had practically run through almost every single store your could find, and always came out with at least two items.

- Purse? Empty. List? Overdone. Brain? Fried? Blood circulation? Cut short because of all the heavy bags you were carrying. What's it called? Yeah, a successful shopping trip.

- Life was all sparkles, birds chirping and smiles, until…

“What?! You did not just get all of that for your mother!” That was your father's voice, and much to your utter surprise, he was holding lesser amount of items in his own arms (barely two or three bags less than you, actually).

“Papa! Do you need help carrying th-“ you paused, taking a few seconds to process the sight in front of you before an almost wicked smirk formed on your face. “Hah! I win, you old man! Time is up and I got mama the most things!”

- Adam was visibly irked by your mockery, but you were right, time was up because Eve was probably home waiting for the two of you, and taking extra time to get her more stuff would only allow you to go home to her faster. Crap.

- … You guessed right again. A race, which ended up in a tie after you both slammed the front doors open at the same time and with the same intensity (insanity).

“Mama!”

“My love!”

- At the sound of your voices, Eve came downstairs immediately. She was getting ready to go out after Cain and Abel suggested to go out for dinner, to celebrate the special day as a family.

- And oh, how beautiful she looked with her long, blonde hair styled up with soft curls, wearing a mesmerizing emerald green dress, and her angelic smile that always managed to outshine the sun itself.

- Your mother was the most beautiful woman in the universe, and both you and your father sighed contently at the sight of her.

“You are finally home! I was starting to get worried wh- ah!” Before Eve could continue, you shoved a flower bouquet in her arms while Adam quickly stood behind his wife, holding up her hair momentarily to put on a beautiful necklace with a leaf charm on her snow-white neck.

- Just like that, twenty more minutes passed, with you and your father practically burying your mom under her gifts one by one, until she had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The two of you looked so comically concentrated on the gifts that all Eve could was grin warmly while being showered with your gentle (not really) affections.

- The sound of her laugh was enough to snap you out of your little trance, and seeing Eve so happy, overwhelmed with joy, you two finally toned it down a bit.

- In the end, you looked up at your dad and laughed in sync, not caring anymore about your silly little competition. At least, not for the time being. All that mattered was that your mother was happy and ready to enjoy a fancy meal and some quality time in family.

- Next year, though, you were definitely going to crush that old man of yours.

[saerins]

─── 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.7k | content: angst, an alternate ending for this fic: whole

notes: for @veraberaxx who requested for this !! i know some of you guys would’ve stayed with nagi okay <3 he’s such a precious one here

summary: sae rarely knows what he’s doing when he comes to you. and sometimes, by the time he figures it out, it’s all way too late and you’re too far gone.

sae remembers you better than he can make sense of. you, and every little thing you do.

how you overcook your eggs in the morning when he’s on video call with you. how you make his bad days so much better without even having to try because you’re the only person in the world who can make him laugh. how your hands feel against his cheeks when you’re admiring him in that cute way you do.

god, he misses you. and he’s never been able to understand why people constantly feel the need to be around each other physically until now.

a conversation that was supposed to be a pastime haunts him.

“you sure it’s what’s best for her though?”

sae blinked, having no clue what his captain was even alluding to. “what are you talking about?”

his captain sighed, leaning back against the door, crossing his arms. “i mean, she’s probably waiting for you right? to go home?”

of course you are. you’re always waiting for him. what was his captain going on about?

“are you ever going to?”

is he?

he finds himself stuck; he’s not sure. there’s the part of him that yearns for you, that wants you around, that wants to live somewhere where you can be by his side.

“i mean, i could ask her to move with me.” it was a valid option, right?

his captain shook his head. “dude, then what happens if you break up? she’ll have uprooted her whole damn life for you, moved away to some faraway place.”

it was something he couldn’t find a response to. and maybe now he’s regretting not having more experience in this field because what’s he supposed to do? he wants you, yes. he wants to make this work, yes.

but can he? he doesn’t fucking know.

sae’s horrible at this.

how does he do this? how can he speak normally to you after all the thinking he’s done? he wants to be with you, really. but how can he be when you’re so far away? when he doesn’t know when or if he’ll come back?

“sae, you there?”

he’s pulled back into the present when you call his name. he can’t even remember what you were talking about before he zoned out.

“yeah, sorry i’m here, was just tired,” he offers, aware that he’s been tired a lot lately. but you keep believing him, maybe because he is but not in the way you think.

physically, yes maybe. but it’s not something he can’t tolerate. but mentally? it’s the biggest toll he’s ever taken. and as much as he doesn’t want to, maybe he can’t keep doing this to you. can’t keep stringing you along with him, with his unsureness and his doubts.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

fuck, this is way harder than he thought it’d be. hearing your voice crack is enough to make him lose his mind. which is why he does this swiftly, can’t have you swaying his heart when he’s made up his mind.

maybe he should’ve chosen a better timing to break up with you than in the locker room right before his next game. it’s stupid, yeah, but he knows if he doesn’t get it done now he’s just going to delay it until he doesn’t even want to do it anymore.

sae’s phone vibrates right after he hangs up, and he feels his heart breaking into pieces reading your message.

you don’t want me anymore, sae?

he does. he really does. but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with this, with himself, with you. he really wants to keep you forever, but he can’t.

maybe it’s pathetic. and maybe it’s an excuse. but maybe if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.

he hopes it will be.

it’s stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s so fucking stupid.

sae does it anyway.

he types nagi seishiro into the stupid google search because just who is this guy, anyway? he’s a little peeved about having your stories with him pop up all the time.

“just don’t watch it, stupid.”

“fuck off, rin.”

as if it was that easy.

scores of articles pop up in his phone, all relating to how nagi seishiro is soccer’s next top genius or upcoming star player. sae feels a scowl on his face as he presses into one of the article headers—nagi seishiro, bachelor no more?

and there it is, a picture of you and nagi walking down the street, hand in hand and sae wants to kill himself right now. nobody else is supposed to be intimate with you like that, and he had thought he knew what he was signing up for when he broke up with you so evidently he thought wrong.

but he isn’t given any time to heal a broken heart, and he thinks he deserves it anyway because it’s his fault that the both of you are where you are in the first place, so maybe he’ll just have to keep on living like this, with half his heart displaced and his devotion always wavering.

sae’s almost sure he can keep this game up—this game of ignoring your existence. it’s the only way he’ll make it out of this alive. but one day he’s bound to slip up.

and that happens to be tonight, when he’s tipsy and forlorn.

your number’s the first one he calls as he sits on his balcony, admiring the view that’s pretty lacklustre without you in it. barely five rings and you pick up.

but it’s not your voice.

“hello?”

by his guesses, it’s nagi. sae has to look at the clock on his phone. it’s 10pm in spain, which means it’s 5am in japan—and nagi’s the one picking up your calls?

“um—”

sae’s rehearsed countless situations of what he might say when you picked up depending on your reaction, but how was he supposed to know someone else was going to pick up?

what the fuck is he supposed to say to your boyfriend?

“oh,” nagi says, voice fading away slightly before coming back. “you’re itoshi sae.”

“yeah.”

“y/n’s washing up right now,” nagi tells him, carefree. “want me to tell her to call you back?”

“no, that’s fine.” because there’s no need for that. because sae’s going to dig himself a hole and lay in it. you probably won’t be able to reach him.

nagi says okay, and sae thinks he’s about to hang up when he hears him ask a question, “do you still love her or something?”

“no.”

nagi hums, “you’re a terrible liar. why would you be calling her at this timing then?”

“wrong number.”

“still terrible.”

“okay bye.”

“wait—” nagi calls out just before sae hangs up and he pauses for a while. sae can hear you humming in the background before you fade away again. it’s torture, really.

“what do you want?” sae sighs. he’s tipsy and in no mood to talk to anyone but you.

cruel, cruel world.

“if you’re not done with her,” nagi sighs too, because both of them would rather be talking to you than each other. “maybe you should tell her.”

sae’s just a little taken aback because why is your boyfriend telling your ex to talk to you with such intentions?

“don’t get me wrong, i’m taking better care of her than you ever did,” nagi says, getting on sae’s nerves, “but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.”

sae feels his heart dropping to the ground.

“i’d like to tell her that you’re so in love with her that you’re still calling her at 5am, but i’m not gonna.”

“you’re weird.”

“maybe,” nagi compromises, “but at least i’m not the stupid one who let her go.”

after a long pause, nagi resumes, “it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.”

and then all sae can hear is the dial tone, and all he can feel is misery.

sae didn’t realise what nagi meant by it being too late if he didn’t speak up soon. that’s why he’s now running across the airport like a madman, it’s why everyone and everything drowns into the background, like they’re half-muted and swirling together.

in his bid to forget you, he’s been avoiding going on social media at all. he’s gone complete radio silence on everyone except for his teammates. he’s been so far less of himself that even his own brother is tired of trying to reach out to him.

it’s been several months since then.

maybe it’s a cruel joke that’s playing on him now; the day he comes back online, the day he decides to take nagi’s stupid advice—you’re already engaged to him.

you’re about to become mrs nagi soon and sae’s really never going to forgive himself.

it’s funny how easily the realisation comes to him; how he can never get over you, how he should’ve never pushed you away. he wants your good morning texts and your goodnight kisses, your bad cooking because he’s worse at it. your laugh, he wants to hear it next to his ear while you’re both about to fall asleep. everything about you—he wants it.

and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing right now, he’s running on pure adrenaline. he’s not even dressed for a wedding—not in his black sweater and black slacks. but fuck this, he thinks, stealing a cab from someone else, he just needs to see you. has to.

it’ll be too late soon if you don’t speak up.

nagi was long ready to propose to you. he probably already had a ring by the time sae got up the guts to call you.

it’s 1pm and he doesn’t even know if you’ve said your vows yet. he can’t remember anything rin told him over the phone and now his brother isn’t even picking up. nobody’s posting anything online either, fuck.

doesn’t help that his cab driver’s a foul mouth with an equally foul temper.

“could you drive faster?”

“oh sure, why don’t i just tell all the traffic lights to make way for little prince over here?”

sae sinks into the seat. today is really not his day, but he’ll screw the universe before he lets it tell him that he shouldn’t be doing this.

it’s 1.23pm by the time sae reaches the church, and the tall black doors never looked more intimidating. it looms over him, and he’s almost afraid to open it. but he has nothing more to lose except for you—so he opens the double doors anyway, runs down the corridors until he’s at the right hall; and it’s too loud the way he flings the doors open, the way the silence rings in his head when everyone in the room turns to face him.

sae’s only looking at you though, and even from this distance he can see your gaze fixed on him—like how everyone else’s is—and then the hushed whispers start to come but he doesn’t care for that. he catches rin in the crowd too, wide-eyed and with that what the fuck are you doing stare.

it’s clear that sae has no clue what he’s doing, why else would he be crashing a wedding he wasn’t even invited to? but his gaze turns back to you and sae freezes in the middle of the aisle, cheeks and nose red from the cold and he can see the sorrow in your eyes as you hold nagi’s hands.

sae opens his mouth until he catches you shaking your head, and then he stops. that’s when you break his heart to save him the further humiliation.

you turn back to nagi and smile the sweetest sae’s ever seen you smile.

“i do.”

sae would’ve already gone home if rin hadn’t stopped him. he would’ve been on the first flight back to spain by now but instead he’s here, at your wedding reception, entertaining rin’s friends.

“not my friends,” he grumbles, but it sure seems like it.

entertaining these guys isn’t his first choice, but he supposes it’s much better than watching the videos they’re playing of you and nagi’s time together up until now.

“hey, can i borrow him for a while, you guys?”

it’s cruel how you ask him to follow you, how you invite him to the dance floor. how he has to put his hand on your waist and know that it’s not leading to anything more, that you’re not his and you never will be.

“so, what do i owe the pleasure of you gatecrashing my wedding?”

you look beautiful. you smell pretty. you’re everything he wants.

sae doesn’t answer. you already know it anyway.

“sei told me,” you say, still not looking at him. “about how you called at 5am that one time.”

“oh, did he now.”

“mhm,” you nod your head and sae catches a whiff of your shampoo. his favourite. everything about you is his favourite. “you know, i wanted it to be you.”

sae looks confused and you chuckle, and god how he’s missed hearing that. “i dreamed of us being the ones to say i do, for a long time actually.”

he doesn’t know what to make of this, doesn’t know why you’re telling him all of this. he especially doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s the same for him.

“lucky for you it’s not me, then,” he chokes out, looking across the room at nagi, who nods at him. sae thinks that at least you ended up with someone who really seems to care about you.

you laugh nervously, “yeah, lucky me.” you’re soft, like you’re not convinced, but sae knows better than that. you’d never go through with it if you weren’t sure.

but she thinks you hate her. and i really don’t like to see her sad.

“i don’t, by the way.”

for the first time now, you look at him. “huh?”

“i don’t hate you, i never did,” sae explains, painfully aware that this is neither the time nor place but he doesn’t think he’ll ever see you or talk to you again so it’s now or never.

and you smile, and he loves that. loves you.

“how’s he treating you?”

“sei?” you turn to look at your husband, grinning from ear to ear when you see that isagi and reo are messing about with him. “he’s perfect.”

sae begs to differ. you are, that’s all he knows.

“good then.”

“what, are you planning to beat him up if i said no?”

“no,” sae scoffs. “but i’d steal you away.”

for a moment, your head lays on his chest and the way his heart beats brings you back to the present, to the fact that sae is someone from the past and he should stay there.

“so what now, itoshi sae?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him, an invisible line drawn between the both of you.

sae shrugs, and he knows what time it is. “back to spain, back to soccer, i guess.”

no longer back to you.

he now has an answer to his captain’s question.

“i’ll see you around, itoshi sae.” (you think you’d still have to watch his games when he plays because seishiro watches them. even if he says it’s a little disturbing that the one doing so well is your ex-boyfriend.)

“are you ever going to?”

no, he can’t go home anymore. it doesn’t exist.

sae nods. and he manages one last smile, a subtle one, a soft one, the one you’re so familiar with, the one you’ve been missing all this time. you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling.

sae remembers you, and every little thing you do. especially how you manage to slip away from him, the only love he ever knew.

“sayonara, y/n.”

[markrosewater]

I seem to always find lots and lots of discourse about block sets. Two sides of the same argument every time.

Side 1 says something like:"I hate all these random sets, I miss block sets."

To which, Side 2 says; "Well block sets never sold as well at the end, players attention span's are better suited for one and done blocks."

My problem with this response is that it essentially ignores the initial statement. Rather than clarifying what they mean, they assume and answer.

Personally, I miss block sets, but ONLY from a story perspective.

Basically, do sets exactly the same as you're doing now. Draft is better now than blocks were, standard with Foundations sounds fantastic. The only thing I'd like to see is a set of setup, and a set of payoff.

MKM was a set based on a murder mystery with the big twist ending basically included in the release, as an example. It could've benefitted from a real, but delayed, payoff. Set up the consequences for each suspect, then reveal and give different consequences that were hinted at in other ways. Bam. Improved.

The last time we visited New Phyrexia, it was a block, I remember ubiquitous speculation over how the story would wrap up. There were factions events at local game stores, branded posters and packs for the factions at play, etc. I had a friend get the New Phyrexian emblem tattooed on themselves. The story felt *Important* and so much less divorced from magic than it does today.

Usually, in my experience, when someone asks for blocks, they're asking for the story to matter. There are lots of mechanically interesting card games out there, and mechanics are only part of what makes magic, magic!

All I would ask is that writers get the opportunity to do setups and payoffs with magic's evolving story with multiple sers, and that story related sets have *some* play synergies. They don't need to share mechanical themes just to share story themes, but it would be a nice little florish if they had mechanical synchronisets,

Hell, a REALLY good idea (in my opinion) would be to do these sets in a different order than the old method. Modern fantasy novels swap POV characters and follow different stories. Why not set up multiple stories in a row, then start to alternate resolving an older, established plot line, and then starting a new one or swapping to another established one. This really gives players time to get interested and speculate (and making the story FEEL present will likely also boost novels and comics numbers, etc., if you need a monetary reasoning.)

What do you think Mark?

We already do a lot of what you’re asking. Each Magic “year” does have a larger connected story, often with different POV characters.

[lightning-chicken]

prime empire au where the superstar rockin jay that the ninja meet acts like jay, thinks like jay, but fundamentally isn’t jay. ssrj is an npc, a decoy built by unigami to stop the ninja from searching for the real jay (who’s being used as a glorified battery) within the game.

of course, to make ssrj the perfect clone, even he doesn’t realise he’s an npc. he thinks he’s the real jay, and his ‘powers’ are fragments of the real jay’s lightning. even’s though ssrj’s memories of his life outside the game feel like they’re photographs, with himself behind the camera, not in the moment - all his memories are like that, so isn’t that what memories are supposed to feel like? 

ssrj is the ideal jay - a little bit too much like jay, perfect in the sense that he’s what the ninja (and everyone else) assume what jay is like. ssrj is jay without his deepest insecurities and darkest experiences, and therefore he’s jay without everything that makes him jay.

eventually, the ninja beat the game, and ‘defeat’ unigami - if unigami can make a digital clone of jay, faking his own destruction is laughably easy, especially when he’s got the element of lightning strengthening him. and yes, i said destruction - ssrj never had those doubts about his past, so why would he share them with unigami? 

ssrj and the other ninja continue their lives, blissfully unaware whilst the real jay is left to rot inside prime empire as unigami regains his strength. 

and if nya notices something slightly different about her yang, something slightly off about his smile or the delay when he’s reminiscing - well, she still died in prime empire, and the last time that happened jay changed. and if this change seems to be for the better, why should she complain?

[chishiyasleftnut]

Hi!

I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!

Can I request a (funny) valentines day gone a bit wrong smut?

Hi there (｡♥‿♥｡) Happy (early) Valentine’s Day! I’ve learned that I really enjoy doing these seasonal fics haha, so thank you for suggesting it!

As for other requests: I am working on them! My semester has started and I’m still working on an exam from the last semester, so my schedule is PACKED. I will get to them, though!

Delayed Valentine's

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: Smut. Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: Chishiya wants to surprise fem!reader with something special for Valentine’s Day, but his plans don’t go as expected.

2434 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

If there was one thing Chishiya didn’t have a lot of experience with, it was romance. Sure, he was a pretty good flirter, charming anyone he set his mind out to charm, but this was different; this was you. He had already ‘charmed’ you. You were his, through and through, and had been so consistently for a while now, long enough that he even dared to call it love.

Even though showing love was completely new territory for him, it didn’t mean that he didn’t try. No, Chishiya had decided to try very hard, and seeing as Valentine’s Day was coming up, the timing couldn’t be better.

He knew that he could go the easy route: buy some roses, put on some sensual music, and make a romantic dinner just for the two of you, but that was almost too easy. You had probably had other boyfriends in the past who did that, so he knew he had to up his game. Simple wasn’t good enough, not when it came to you.

After researching online, he came up with the perfect plan: a romantic getaway. Just you, him, beautiful scenery, and no responsibilities. From what he could gather online, this was something that women loved, so he was pretty sure you would too. Then the organisation began: booking tickets to Okinawa, finding a beautiful and luxurious hotel, researching good restaurants in the area, and calling your boss to convince them to let you take a few days off. Luckily, it all went smoothly. The day prior he packed both of your bags with all the necessities and a few gifts. This would be great, he thought.

You didn’t learn of the plan until the night before and even then, he kept it annoyingly vague. You walked into your shared apartment wrapped in various winter garments to keep you warm in the cold, Tokyo February weather. Chishiya greeted you at the entrance, leaned against the wall.

“We’re going somewhere tomorrow.”

“What, after work?” you asked sounding both surprised and happy. You were well aware that tomorrow was Valentines Day but didn’t expect Chishiya to remember (or care).

“No,” he said with a smirk. “You’re not going to work. We’re going to the airport at 7am.”

You were just about to argue - you couldn’t just skip work, what was he thinking? - when he pulled you closer, his lips grazing your forehead.

“I have sorted everything out, don’t worry,” he whispered. “Just trust me.”

-----------

7am the next morning you were hauled into a taxi, still half asleep while Chishiya and the taxi driver loaded the trunk with your luggage. For the entire drive, Chishiya sat beside you with an arm around you, kissing your temple and whispering into your ear about how he was going to spoil you for the entire trip.

To your surprise, Chishiya was likewise as cuddly the entire way through airport security, despite him otherwise seldomly participating in PDA. His hand rarely left your waist, only letting you go to pass through the metal detector and immediately touching you again once he joined you on the other side.

Due to Chishiya’s perfectionism, you had plenty of time to peruse the various airport stores before it was time to board the plane, looking at everything from perfumes to tacky souvenirs. Every time you tried to make a purchase, Chishiya would pull out his credit card before you even had a chance to pay yourself. He was taking Valentine’s Day seriously, it seemed, but you obviously weren’t complaining. It was nice being pampered.

Having finished your shopping, Chishiya led you to a nearby flight board to check what gate you had to proceed to.

“Ah fuck,” you heard him mumble. Curiously you followed his line of sight and noticed the big, red letters saying DELAYED displayed next to your flight number.

“That’s okay,” you quickly said to calm Chishiya down. “It’s probably just a little bit late.”

Oh boy were you wrong.

10 minutes turned into 30, which before you knew it had turned into 4 hours spent on uncomfortable metal airport seats. Chishiya looked particularly tense, his leg anxiously bouncing, and his jaw clenched - perhaps because his well-throughout plan was crumbling before his eyes and he wasn’t entirely sure how to remedy the situation.

This was definitely not how either of you wanted to spend Valentine’s Day. The day was supposed to be spent at a beach resort with a fruity drink in hand, not at Haneda Airport’s terminal 1. But here you were, facing two choices: either you went home and cancelled the rather expensive trip, or you stayed waiting at the gate for God knows how long.

It was clear to you that it was those two choices that Chishiya was internally trying to make sense of. If you left now, he could drive you to a spa somewhere and then maybe get you dinner after. That wouldn’t be a bad plan, but it would mean wasting a ton of money on non-refundable plane tickets and hotel reservations.

Chishiya groaned and leaned back on the uncomfortable chair. He rarely outwardly showed displeasure like that, but you couldn’t blame him. With his hand in yours, you began drawing circles on his palm with your thumb. The contact seemed to calm him down somewhat, his leg slowly quieting down and his jaw unclenching.

“It could be worse, you know?” you said softly, trying to make him feel better.

“How could it possibly be worse?” he sighed with closed eyes.

“I don’t know... Godzilla could be wrecking the airport? I could be pregnant? A lot of things could make it worse!”

Chishiya slowly opened his eyes to look at you like you were insane.

“Ah yes, the well-known, very realistic situation of a giant, radioactive lizard ruining our Valentine’s Day plans.” he said dryly. “As for the pregnancy thing: don’t even say it. You’ll jinx it and we’ll be stuck changing diapers for the next few years.”

His tone shut you up immediately. Normally he would at least chuckle a bit at your nonsensical words, but it didn’t seem like he had the spoons for humour right now. Unsure what else to do, you continued to draw circles on his palm until he closed his eyes again. 

You felt bad knowing that he had tried so hard to make you feel loved, just for everything to go wrong. At this point you didn’t even care about the trip to Okinawa, you just wanted him to feel as happy as he had intended to make you feel. The least you could do was make him relax a bit. And that’s when you had a lightbulb moment, causing you to lean in closer to him, your breath tickling his skin as you whispered.

“Let’s go to the bathroom.”

The blonde turned to look at you. Although he knew what your intentions were, he was still confused as to why you were suddenly in the mood for public sex. Surely failed plans wouldn’t get you in the mood.

“Come on,” you repeated with a smile, standing up and pulling Chishiya with you towards the nearest accessible bathroom.

Once inside, you locked the door and turned to look at Chishiya who still looked quite confused albeit now also a tad amused.

“May I ask why you’ve pulled me into a handicap stall?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and the faintest smile on his lips.

“Well 1) I’m terribly bored,” you laughed, causing Chishiya’s grin to widen too. “And 2) I can see how tense you are about this entire thing not going as you envisioned. I just want to tell you that it’s okay. I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm,” you hummed and nodded. “It was very sweet of you to plan all of this. So, thank you.”

With two confident steps, you walked closer to your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in close to him. Without even thinking, Chishiya’s hands found their way around your waist, squeezing you slightly.

“Let’s just forget about the plane for a minute and celebrate Valentine’s Day anyway. What do you say?”

Chishiya didn’t respond with words, but the smile on his lips as he leaned in to close the small gap between you told you all you had to know: he was finally relaxing.

Your lips met in an at first tender kiss, completely transporting the both of you to another universe - one that wasn’t an ambiguously clean airport bathroom. The only thing you felt was Chishiya’s soft lips on yours and his strong hands squeezing around your waist. Your lips parted, begging for Chishiya to explore you fully which he did.

All you could feel, hear, smell, and taste was him as he took over every single one of your senses. He backed you towards the wall, pressing you up against it with his own body. His hands moved from your waist to roam around your body, going up and down the natural valleys of your curves and traversing every inch of you.

With his body pressed up against yours you couldn’t help but feel his hardening length prodding your abdomen, only getting harder and harder the more skin his hands covered. Swiftly, he hiked up your skirt and slid his hand down your underwear causing you to gasp at the sudden sensation.

Your arms tightened around his neck as Chishiya began circling your clit, making you wetter and wetter with each orbit. Instinctively, you felt him grind up against your body to provide any sort of relief from the uncomfortably tight tent that was forming in his pants.

Unwilling to wait longer than he had to, Chishiya quickly pulled down your underwear, letting them slide down your body until they reached the floor where you stepped out of them. With full access to you, he likewise as rapidly dropped his own pants to the floor, pulled one of your legs up around his waist, and teasingly ran his tip up and down your wet folds, coating both him and you in your arousal.

“You’re already so wet for me” he murmured smugly, satisfied with your bodily response to his touch. His words sent fire straight to your core, making you whimper for his touch.

“Please” you whispered breathlessly into his ear, pleading to feel him fully.

Chishiya didn’t waste even a second before he sunk his fat tip into your entrance, pushing his entirety into you until he bottomed out and pressed up against your cervix. His body twitched and his breath turned shaky as he got used to the feeling of your tight, wet walls hugging him, simultaneously begging him to stay right where he was and to begin fucking you.

And he did just that. With rhythmic movements he repeatedly thrusted in and out of you, sending both of you to heaven with every plunge his dick made into your wet core. The sounds of your moans and whimpers echoed through the tiled walls of the bathroom, the only other sound being that of skin hitting skin.

With your fingers intertwined in his blonde locks, and his fingertips strongly digging into the fat on your hips, you immediately became one with one-another, transforming into a single being whose only purpose in life was pleasure - and it was certainly succeeding at that task.

“I want to see that pretty ass of yours” Chishiya growled into your ear before pulling out of you and leaving you feeling terribly empty.

The emptiness didn’t last long, though. Chishiya swiftly spun you around and lead you towards the sink, pushing your upper body over the cold porcelain.

With both hands firmly on the sink to stabilise you, you made eye contact with Chishiya in the mirror as he lined himself up at your entrance and immediately pushed in, fucking into you so good that your vision went blurry. The pleasure made it so that you didn’t even notice that he leaned down over you, positioning his mouth right next to your ear.

“God, I love you,” he half whispered, half groaned.

You wanted to reply, to tell him ‘I love you’ back, but nothing intelligible came out of your mouth. Chishiya, as always, found both humour and pride in the condition you were in.

“Mm, what’s that darling?” he purred smugly. “Use your words.”

“L-love you t-t-too” you finally stammered out.

“Good girl.”

Chishiya fully stood up again allowing for deeper thrusts, effectively hitting your cervix each time. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure, making you crave more in the moment despite knowing you’ll regret the roughness later.

“Mmph, m’close,” you mewled as your core tightened around Chishiya. “Don’t stop.”

Before you knew it, one of Chishiya’s hand has snaked from your hip and down in between your legs, aiding along the rapidly approaching orgasm by playing with the needy bud.

You came hard; so hard that Chishiya had to cover your mouth with his free hand to not attract unwanted attention from the rest of the airport. Chishiya came not long after, his hips stuttering until he half-collapsed down over you as he spurted his seed deep into you, his shaky breath dancing against your sweaty skin.

For a moment you both stayed in that position, too fucked out to do anything else. Chishiya was the first to come out of the trance-like state, kissing you on the cheek to awake you too before he stood up and got dressed again. You followed suit shortly after, putting on your still damp underwear to cover your core, which was dripping with both of your arousal.

With his hand around your waist, Chishiya led you back out to the waiting section by your gate. There, you were both greeted by a welcomed sight.

“Seems like boarding is in 10 minutes,” Chishiya commented casually as if he hadn’t spent the last 4 or so hours on stressing about the delayed flight. Perhaps the sex had helped to calm his nerves a bit.

“Thank God,” you exclaimed with a chuckle before sitting down and going through your bags to find your passport and boarding pass. “We’ve waited ages.”

Chishiya chuckled too, happy that you didn’t seem to mind too much that his otherwise lovely Valentine’s Day plan hadn’t worked out as he envisioned it. He helped you find the documents, holding the both of yours in his hands. To show his gratitude for your carefree approach to the entire situation, he gently placed a kiss on the forehead before whispering.

“You’re going to love the hotel.”

[hey-august]

B, G, K, R, S, Y For the alphabet!

I absolutely love your head canons for buggy!!! 💗

Sorry if this is a lot!

Ahhh, thank you!! Sorry for the delay with these! I had Too Much Fun writing them out! (NSFW Alphabet here)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Buggy himself, he’s most apt to admit that he likes his hands. They’re the hands of a pirate and a performer. Calloused and agile. Plus he has a thing for nail care and finds it soothing to apply a layer of lacquer in whatever color he’s feeling at the moment. The pop of color really stands out when his hand is wrapped around a thick cock. Or digging into a dripping hole. Fuck, and seeing how many fingers he can fit? Yup, definitely a favorite of his. For his partner, it’s their smile. Aw, sweet. Of course he loves to make them laugh. To see their joy radiate up to their eyes. Even the sad, somber smile they offer the clown in his moments of vulnerability brings him a bit of peace. But there are two specific smiles that knock Buggy head over hills. That pump blood to his cock and leave him feral. First, is the soft breathy smile that slips out when his partner is on top. When his partner pauses to let Buggy’s dick nestle into place, they let out the most dreamy sigh and smile. And Buggy is in heaven. The second smile is when their face is coated in cum. Pearls clinging to their eyelashes, dripping down their cheeks, mixing with the spit on their outstretched tongue. The moment they risk getting jizz in their eyes, just to look up at Buggy and smile gratefully, all he wants to do is paint them again.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Buggy the Clown is a goofy fucker. He never stops talking. He always has shit to say. At first, it was a defense mechanism. All the humor and shenanigans kept the real feelings away. How could things get serious if he treated everything like a joke? If people saw a clown, then he’d give them a clown. “Lick it like a candy apple.” “Fuck, you could swallow swords in my show with a throat like that.” “C’mon, I wanna see you juggle these balls in your mouth.” (“I may not be a lion tamer, but I am pussy tamer.”) It dies down over time, but never goes away entirely. Buggy will never pass up an opportunity to invite his partner to the circus tent in his pants.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Mirror sex results in the best performances. Buggy rarely feels more like a star than when he’s watching his own lewd faces in the mirror while getting fucked. And Buggy is more than happy to take a backstage position when his partner is in the spotlight. Watching himself disappear into his partner, telling them to keep their eyes open, to move so he has a better view of the show - it strokes his ego hard and fast. But back to Buggy bent over in front of the mirror and drooling. There was one time his partner pushed the clown’s face against the cold silver and said to give himself a little kiss. What. The. Fuck. Licking and kissing the mirror and getting it dirty with spit and tears gave Buggy the most mind-blanking orgasm he’s ever had. In that moment, which stretched into eternity, he was a filthy fuck doll and more than okay with it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, but hear me out. Buggy’s interest in experimenting is driven by his image. Pirates swap stories and Buggy has all the best stories. Of course he does, he’s the greatest. And he’s done soooo many things. Really! Getting his dick sucked in a crowded restaurant - check. Stealing a chick from her boyfriend and fucking her in the bar bathroom - check. Then getting a blowjob from the boyfriend - check. Believe it or not, they all had a threesome afterwards and it lasted for days. Look, he still has the rope marks to prove it. Did that all happen? Abso-fucking-lutely. Really? Well…yeah. Sorta. Maybe some of it happened after the told the story. Buggy is a big believer in turning lies into truth. So yeah, Buggy will take risks to live in the reality he creates over stale beer. But he’s also down to experiment so he has more shit to talk about and prove he’s the best.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

If he could, Buggy would go until he passes out. How long that takes depends on how stressed he is, if he actually did any work during the day, how much he’s had to drink, and how good of a dicking it is. But this guy will hump and grind until he’s teary and whining. Until his balls are so empty that there’s almost nothing left to release except a few pathetic drops of mostly-clear liquid. Hands grabbing at the sheets and his partner, practically begging for more while his pretty eyes can’t stay open for more than a second. No, no, no, no, no, he swears he can keep going. Please, please don’t stop.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

There are ups and downs, but let’s talk about the ups. There are times when Buggy is revved and ready to go at a moment’s notice. His pupils dilate and his pants get tight when his partner is near. Any chance he gets, Buggy is whispering (loudly) in their ear about finding somewhere more secluded. If they do slink away, it’s a quickie that’s composed of a handful of sloppy thrusts and the pirate is satiated for all of a few minutes before he’s groping their ass again. It’s a problem, really. For everyone with eyes and ears.