#don’t let his enthusiasm fool you

[knockknockwhosthereartistism]

He’s just happy to be included

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N. 

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

--------------------------

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

[trustmypoison]

Seventeen with a crush

Genre: fluff

A/N: just a cute little thing I was thinking about.

Seungcheol

His air of confidence is so strong that it might be kind of unnerving at first. He knows what he likes and what he wants. If that’s you, you’ll know it. It’s all flirting and little excuses to be close to you. If you’re shy about it, watch him get kind of smug. But my personal favorite is that if you flirt back for even a moment, you’ll get to see the mask of confidence slip. Shy Seungcheol would be so cute and you’d live for turning the tables once he lets go of the confident facade. He’ll be surprisingly shy about confessing to you and it might be your turn to be a little smug.

Jeonghan

Swings wildly between being a total menace and super sweet. He’ll do something nice for you because he cares and is absolutely delighted if it flusters you. He might not try to resist the urge to pinch your cheeks and coo when blushing and can’t meet his eyes. Another one that will let you know he’s into you. Like I said, he enjoys your shyness, but if you work up the courage to be even half as bold as he is, he’ll be panicked and excited simultaneously. This stage will drag out for a long time only because he enjoys the anticipation of every interaction with you. When one of you finally confesses, I think there’s like a 75% chance he’ll be sweet and genuine about though.

Joshua

Total boyfriend material and he’ll let you know it. If you’re hanging out, he’s doing the little things like holding doors open for you, sliding out your chair, or placing his jacket over your lap if your wearing a skirt. It’s all genuine and sweet and thoughtful, but don’t let it fool you. He’s a menace as well with his little compliments and touches, loving your little reactions. I don’t think he’d let this phase go for so long so prepare for a super romantic first date.

Jun

You’ll know he’s into you simply because he makes it a point to be around you. All. The. Time. Once he gets over an initial bout of shyness, he’s a yapper. He wants to make you laugh. He wants your attention. He wants you to think about him as much as he thinks about you. There’s a quiet intensity about it that makes you swoon a bit if you think about it too hard. He might not initiate a lot of physical contact right away, but if you do he’ll totally melt. Be prepared to have him wrapped around your finger.

Hoshi

Initially super nervous. He knows he can be a bit much for some people and comes on really strong, so he holds back to test the waters. He’s really terrified of scaring you off. The more you react positively to his little jokes and touches, the more he’ll warm up. Good luck getting him off of you once he’s comfortable because he’ll be glued to your side, literally. His enthusiasm for anything to do with you is SO endearing. His members will be absolutely sick of you before they even meet you.

Wonwoo

The biggest flirt in the most understated way, if that makes sense? You leave some interactions with him and way later realize, wait, was he flirting with me??? He’s so chill about it that it takes you by surprise. Besides the flirting, you know he’s into you because he goes out of his way to talk to you. His interest in your thoughts, feelings, and interests warms you up so much, but the kicker for him is when you’re interested in what he has to say too. Phew, is he already half in love before he even asks you out.

Woozi

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I don’t think he’d be all that shy. Man loves romance judging by the songs he writes and has two fire signs confirmed in his big three. The thing is, he’s a little reserved about chasing you. Take it from a fellow fire sign, we have some rejection sensitivity. You’ll have to come to him, but you have his full attention once you do. He’s secretly going to be sickeningly sweet with you and I kind of see this crush ending without a formal moment of asking the other out. You guys just hang out one day and decide you’re together.

DK

Another one that swings wildly between two modes, but with Seokmin it’s being a full time comedian and the shyest baby you’ve ever seen. I think he loves love and I fear he might sometimes build it up in his head before he ever makes a single move. Be gentle at first, but once you reciprocate anything expect to never stop smiling. Let him be vulnerable and serious around you though and he’s yours.

Mingyu

How does it feel to have someone obsessed with you? When he’s hooked, he’s HOOKED. There will be no question that he’s into you because he checks all the boxes. Flirting, physical affection, active listening, doing little thoughtful favors for you. He’s trying to skip straight from boyfriend material to husband material. Please match his energy. The members might be sick of being around you two, but will probably urge you two to just get together already.

The8

You may never know unless he’s ready for you to know. You might even think he doesn’t like you at all, dare I say hates you, because he’s a bit stoic. But relax because this is him feeling out the situation. A vibe check is a must for him. If you pass that vibe check, he’ll be so subtle about hinting about it. It’s about the little things with him, but you still might be surprised when he admits that he likes you. Expect him to laugh at your wide eyed expression because he already knows you’re into him too. Otherwise, he would have never said anything.

Seungkwan

Talk about someone whose invested in your wellbeing from day one. One might think he’s nagging, but you know it’s because he cares and it warms you that he wants to know what you had for dinner or that you’ve had enough water today. Please, please, please thank him for his attention to detail because it will mean the world to him that you understand his intentions. A certified yapper. You’ll know all of the group gossip. I’m sorry, this has friends to lovers written all over it. It won’t be a surprise to anyone when you two end up together.

Vernon

Most people say he’s pretty aloof, but I think it’s an act. He’ll let you know he’s into you. He might have some weird approaches, like sending dozens of memes or TikToks a day, but it shows he’s thinking about you and trying to find reasons to reach out to you. Expect some deep, existential 3am conversations. I think he’s actually pretty soft and physically affectionate when it comes to you, though he’s careful not to cross any lines and might prefer that you initiate it just to be safe. Put him out of his misery. He wants you all over him so just make a move already.

Dino

Perhaps surprisingly bold about it. You’re kind of surprised by his attention being on you because, well… he’s him. He could have anyone he wants. But he’ll be laser focused, so sweet and attentive that it turns you to putty. You’re the one wrapped around his finger, but don’t worry, I don’t think he’d abuse that power. He prides himself on making you feel safe and comfortable. I know I’ve already said this, but please, match his energy. He’ll be asking you out in a heartbeat.

[4linos]

secretly yours

seo changbin x gn!reader

request: your boyfriend being surprised at a fan sign by you, his secret s/o.

wc: 1254

The fan sign event was in full swing, with the room vibrating with enthusiasm and energy as people waited in line to have their albums signed. Changbin, ever the professional, was fully immersed in his act, greeting fans and conversing with them as he signed their albums. He had no idea what was going to hit him.

However, Hyunjin did.

Leaning casually in his chair, Hyunjin was examining the crowd when he noticed a familiar face. His lips twisted into a knowing smirk as he noticed you and moved closer in line. You were cautious to act like any other fan, but Hyunjin wasn't fooled. He couldn't help but remember the moment he unintentionally discovered your relationship with Changbin.

That memory was still fresh:

Changbin had asked you to their dorm, assuming Hyunjin was not home. Hyunjin had arrived home early, only to discover you both seated on the couch, flustered. Changbin struggled to explain, before introducing you as his partner. After much pleading and promises, Hyunjin agreed to keep the relationship secret.

And now, here you were, standing in line like a regular fan, completely throwing Changbin off guard.

"Hey," Hyunjin leaned closer to Changbin, his voice low but teasing. "Look who decided to show up."

Changbin furrowed his brows, distracted. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin gestured subtly toward you, and Changbin followed his gaze. The second he spotted you, he froze, his hand mid-air as he tried to process what he was seeing. He choked slightly, quickly covering it with a cough, but the growing smile on his face was impossible to hide.

"You’re gonna give yourself away, idiot," Hyunjin muttered, stifling a laugh.

Changbin’s ears turned bright red as he attempted to play it cool, but his excitement betrayed him. He started fidgeting in his seat, his legs bouncing under the table, and his eyes kept darting back to you every few seconds.

"Relax," Hyunjin whispered, grinning. "You’ll see them in a minute."

"I’m so gonna kill them for this later," Changbin muttered, though the wide grin on his face said otherwise. He was both thrilled and nervous, eager for you to reach him but knowing he couldn’t act on his feelings in front of the fans.

Finally, it was your turn. As you stepped up to Changbin, he plastered on his best fan sign smile, though his sparkling eyes and the slight quiver in his voice gave him away.

"Hi," you said sweetly, sliding your album across the table.

"Hi," Changbin said, his voice lower than normal. As he accepted the album, his hands lingered on yours for an extra second. "What's your name?"

You gave him your name and played along like a committed fan. He nodded and wrote carefully, trying furiously to keep his hands steady. "So," he said casually, his smile wider than ever, "who's your favorite member?" You hesitated, faking profound concentration, before smiling mischievously.

"Hmm… probably Hyunjin."

Changbin's jaw fell as he stopped mid-signature and looked up at you with an exaggerated pout.

"Hyunjin?" he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief.

From his seat, Hyunjin burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the chaos. "I mean, I don’t blame them," he teased, earning a glare from Changbin.

"Really?" Changbin asked, leaning in a little closer to you, his lower lip jutting out adorably. He still hadn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re gonna do me like that?"

You giggled, pulling your hand away gently. "You’re all great," you said, trying to soothe him, though your teasing smile remained.

As you moved to the next member, you threw a quick wink over your shoulder at Changbin. His breath hitched, and his pout melted into a sheepish grin as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"You’re so whipped," Hyunjin teased quietly, nudging him.

"Shut up," Changbin muttered, though he couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you move down the line.

If only the fans knew just how much that one wink had him spiraling.

Changbin struggled to focus as the fan sign continued. His gaze kept straying to where you had sat in the crowd after meeting all of the members. You sat there like any other fan, yet the tiny smile on your face caused him to lose all composure.

"Changbin," Hyunjin murmured softly, prodding him with his elbow. "Huh? What?" Changbin was shocked, almost scribbling on the wrong page of an album. Hyunjin gave him a skeptical look. "You are staring. Again."

"I wasn't staring," Changbin answered defensively, despite his burning ears. He tried to concentrate on the fan in front of him, signing the album and spoke cordially, but as soon as they went on, his gaze returned to you like a magnet. Hyunjin sighed deeply and leaned closer. "You'll get caught if you keep acting like this. "At least pretend to look at the fans."

"I am looking at the fans," Changbin said, his lips curling into a grin as you noticed him staring. You tilted your head playfully, lifting an eyebrow, and he hastily lowered his head to hide his growing smile.

Hyunjin smirked and shook his head. "Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless."

Throughout the rest of the fan sign, Changbin kept stealing glimpses at you, his heart beating every time your eyes connected.

Hyunjin, who continued snapping his fingers in front of his face and clearing his throat loudly to bring him back to reality.

When the event was finally over, Changbin practically sprinted from his seat, eager to find you. He had to pretend to act casual, so he followed the other members backstage first, taking secret glances over his shoulder to make sure you were still there.

"You're so obvious," Hyunjin mocked after they were out of the fans' sight. "Shut up," Changbin replied, but his enthusiasm was too strong to argue properly.

As soon as he could, he snuck away from the group, pretending he needed something. Hyunjin gave him a knowing look, but said nothing and let him go.

You were waiting just outside the venue, resting against a wall with a smug smirk, when he appeared. The moment Changbin saw you, his entire face lit up. "You," he exclaimed his voice full with exaggerated frustration as he walked towards you. "Me," you answered innocently, tilting your head.

Before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a tight hug and buried his face against your neck. "Do you have any idea how hard it was not to just run to you the second I saw you?" You giggled and hugged him back. "I think you handled it pretty well, all things considered." He moved back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist. "You said that Hyunjin was your favorite, though. "That was simply cruel." You smirked and ran your hand through his hair. "I had to keep you on your toes." Changbin pouted, his bottom lip sticking out adorably. "I'm never letting you live that down."

"Is that so?" you teased, reaching in to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last second, catching your lips with his instead.

The kiss was brief but affectionate, his excited smile pressing against yours. "Better," he muttered, moving back just enough to look at you.

"But you're still explaining yourself later."

You giggled, pulling him toward the exit.

"C'mon, Mr. Jealous. Let's leave before someone catches us." As you walked out hand in hand,

Hyunjin's voice echoed a little behind you: "You two owe me for keeping this secret!"

//

asks are always open if you have a question, request, or concern!

[cherrylibby]

Tearful Promise

Tonight, the two of you sat on the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting flickering light over your faces. Takeout containers rested on your laps, but while Jake ate with his usual enthusiasm, your food remained untouched. You stabbed at it half-heartedly with your fork, your appetite long gone. Your mind was miles away, trapped in an endless loop of worries and unspoken fears.

Jake’s gaze drifted toward you, his sharp eyes catching the way your shoulders slumped and how your brow furrowed in thought. He set his container down on the coffee table and leaned closer, his hand reaching out to capture yours. His fingers, warm and steady, enveloped your trembling ones.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with concern. He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes scanning your face for answers.

You hesitated, forcing a tight smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Nothing, just tired,” you replied, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Jake wasn’t fooled. He knew you better than that—knew the little signs that something was eating away at you. His grip on your hand tightened, grounding you. “Sweetheart, don’t do that,” he said gently. “Talk to me. Please.”

His other hand rose to cup your cheek, the roughness of his palm grounding against your skin. His thumb moved in slow, soothing strokes as his eyes searched yours, full of unwavering tenderness. “Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help.”

The lump in your throat swelled until you could no longer hold it back. Tears blurred your vision as you finally admitted, “I’m scared.”

Jake’s breath caught, his heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in your voice. He didn’t need an explanation; he already knew. The looming deployment was a weight you both carried, but you bore it differently, quietly, until it crushed you.

You blinked, and the first tear slipped free, sliding down your cheek. “Five months, Jake,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “You’ll be gone for five months. I’ll be here... carrying this baby... and I don’t even know if you’ll come back.”

Your words hit him like a blow. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as sobs wracked your body. His hand slid up and down your back, his touch firm and reassuring despite the ache in his chest. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair. “Darlin’, I know it’s hard. I know it’s not fair, but I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to come home to you. To you and our baby. You mean everything to me.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-filled eyes locking with his. The love and guilt in his expression tore down the last of your walls, and you let the full weight of your fears spill out. “I can’t do this without you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to.”

Jake reached up, brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. His own eyes glistened now, the emotion he’d been holding back threatening to spill over. “You won’t have to,” he said fiercely. “You’re not alone in this, sweetheart. I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

His hand slid to the nape of your neck as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the overwhelming connection you shared. His lips moved against yours, speaking promises that words alone could never convey.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotion swirling within him. “More than anything. Always.”

And for the first time that night, you let yourself believe him, clinging to the hope that his love would be enough to carry you through the long, uncertain months ahead.

[monayen]

you said something about Nyon being one of the better head givers ... what about the rest of them ;3 ? maybe rank them PLZZZ - 🦋

Pussy Eatin' Headcannons (lol)

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - explicit afab reader, oral (f. recieving) / cunnilingus, biting / marking, fingering

a/n - oh this is everything to me thank you for this ask. also throwing in the ratmen and satoru because i errr uhh CAN DO WHAT I WANT. i actually had a bit of a hard time ranking them specifically as i feel like #6-4 can be interchangeable if you think hard enough. but this is about eatin' pussy so have ur own thoughts frens

(from worst to best)

Tied for last place: Ratmen 3-5

These guys likely wouldn’t even know what to do with a pussy in their face

They’re used to rushed quickies, as they’re always afraid of being caught

Way too fast and sloppy when eating you out, leaves a mess of your own wetness all on their faces

It won’t be all that satisfying, so don’t expect to cum anytime soon. Because of that, they'll probably tap out after a while

They definitely prefer receiving head over giving it—after all, they’ll finish much faster than you. A shame, really

8. Micheal Jr

Like Ratmen 3-5, he lacks the time and experience to properly eat you out. The only reason he ranks higher is his sheer enthusiasm to do so

He wants you to squeeze your thighs around his face and tug his hair

Still messy and too quick, but with the right training and time, he might actually be decent at it. But that won't ever happen

7. Nyen

Rarely gives you oral which automatically puts him at a low spot

Which might be for the best, considering he ends up using too much teeth most of the time. Like he has literally bitten your clit before :(

His hands will also dig painfully into your hips and sides when he grasps onto you, which could make it hard to focus on the already sorta uncomfortable head

Definitely prefers fucking your throat and he’s clear about that

6. Randal

The neediest head you’ll ever receive. Laps you up like a dog and leaves you a sweaty, sticky mess

Loves come swallowing and is determined to lick up every last drop of wetness that leaks out of you

The 69 position is a must for him. Fucking your face while his tongue curls inside of you? The best (aside from actually fucking you)

"Head for head?” is something that unironically leaves his mouth way too often

Genuinely cannot get enough of it. Tires you out and still will stretch out his tongue for another round

Enough that it can actually be exhausting to deal with his constant need for your pussy to be in his face

Also bites, duh

5. Sebastian

Reluctant at first, wouldn't have ever propositioned if you didn't

Not because he thought it was gross or weird, just nervous to perform poorly and make a fool of himself

His inexperience makes him a bit awkward and clumsy, but his earnest desire to please you makes up for his lack of skill

Actually not bad at all when he gets into it though. Let his nerves settle and he’ll eat it like he's starving (which he is)

Likes for you to sit on his face and grind against him. Listen to his shaky whimpers against your flesh as he struggles to breathe properly. Don’t worry, he likes it!

4. Robert

Doesn't have an exact preference for giving or receiving, so a nice plus!

Again, he just has the similar problem the rest of the ratmen have: lack of time / opportunity

Though inexperienced, he’s much neater and more patient than his ratmen counterparts—not that it’s saying much, but it’s still an improvement

Has a tendency to nibble and gnaw at your skin, can get a bit too enthusiastic about it sometimes (ouch!)

Give him multiple tries to learn where the clit is, how to combo his tongue and fingers, and how to find a proper rhythm and I think he’ll do quite well :)

3. Satoru

Similar to Randal in how he loves to eat you out. Practically lives for it

He wants to try every single position possible (which is more than you think) and learn all the things that make your thighs shake

Never stops talking, even with his mouth full—mumbles against you, breathless words garbling out as he showers you with praise. He just can’t help it, you taste too good to stay quiet!

Again, can end up being a bit too much to handle if you're sensitive

A lot more accommodating than Randal though, if you need a break, he'll let you. It can be tiring to be folded with your legs in the air as he sucks on your overstimulated clit. You sweet thing ^^

2. Luther

Very delicate. Almost far too careful, treating you like a five course meal

Every part of you is so precious to him so he makes sure his long fingers and sharp teeth won't ever hurt you

His tongue likes to move in slow, deliberate strokes, thumb rhythmically rubbing against your clit as firm hands grip along your inner thigh

His ability to focus on a specific task means he’ll be down there for a while, so just keep your legs steady on his shoulders, pet ♡

1. Nyon

Gives the best head.

Doesn't complain, doesn't wait for you to initiate, isn't too fast or slow, knows all the right spots and patterns

He picks up on what you like quickly. Incredibly attentive to your tastes, loves to see you melt and moan when he eats you out just right

Secretly prides himself on making you come just from his mouth. Why shouldn't he? He tries very hard for you, Родная<3

Gets so much satisfaction from giving. Fully devoted to making you feel good until you’re completely spent

He doesn’t tend to ask for anything in return, content enough with just settling his face between your thighs. Ignore that wet spot on his crotch… you just get him so excited when you tug at his hair!

[estellan0vella]

To Han Jisung’s Sheer, Unbridled Stupidity: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.1K

CW: Simp Jisung (he's down bad), Horny Jisung, Minho being a menace (standard), mentions of sex, No Nut November, reader making Jisung go through it, teasing, Minho and reader shenanigans General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I Part III

Rain hammers the windows, an unrelenting torrent that turns the world outside into a blur of grey streaks and rattles against the thin glass of Jisung’s room in the Alpha Phi house. The storm is angry, howling wind shaking the old frame of the window, thunder rolling like the earth is tearing itself apart. Inside, though, the room is a sanctuary, warm and alive, lit by the soft glow of Jisung’s desk lamp and the dim blue of the LED strips running haphazardly along the ceiling.

Million Dollar Baby pulses low from the Bluetooth speaker perched on a stack of textbooks Jisung will never read. The beat vibrates faintly through the cluttered room, mixing with the rhythm of the rain and the occasional sharp crack of thunder. 

You’re curled at his desk, the mirror in front of you streaked with fingerprints and old, faded smudges of eyeliner, slowly wiping your face clean of makeup. Each swipe of the cotton pad feels deliberate, calming. Your skin is bare now, the freckles you’ve always tried to ignore standing out starkly under the warm light.

Behind you, Jisung sprawls lazily on his unmade bed, his boxers riding low on his hips, the waistband crooked where he’s been shifting around. His messy silver hair sticks up in wild directions, and he looks as comfortable as someone with a hyperactive Staffordshire bull terrier puppy in their lap can be. Zak wriggles and squirms, tail going like a jackhammer as he attacks Jisung’s hands with relentless enthusiasm.

“Zak, you little shit, can you chill for, like, two fucking seconds?” Jisung groans, half-laughing as he tries to fend off the puppy’s relentless tongue. “I swear to God, he’s got no sense of boundaries.”

You glance at them through the mirror, a faint smile curling your lips. “He’s a puppy, Ji. What do you expect? He’s like a toddler on crack.”

“No, he’s a demon on fucking crack,” Jisung shoots back, wrestling Zak’s head away from his face. “Look at this little shit. He thinks he’s in charge.”

Zak, completely unbothered by the insult, barks sharply and lunges for Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung lets out an exaggerated yelp, flopping dramatically onto his back and letting the puppy clamber triumphantly onto his chest. “See? He’s already won. I’m fucking dead.”

You snort, turning back to the mirror to dab toner onto a fresh cotton pad. “You’re such a drama queen. Zak’s, like, a tenth your size.”

Jisung props himself up on one elbow, glaring at you through the chaos of his hair. “A tenth of my size but a hundred fucking times more chaotic. Don’t let his cute little face fool you. He’s a fucking menace.”

You glance back over your shoulder, watching as Zak starts gnawing on the hem of Jisung’s boxers. “Yeah, he’s a menace because you let him walk all over you. He’s got you wrapped around his little paw, and you fucking know it.”

“Bullshit,” Jisung says, but there’s no heat in his voice. His hand comes up to scratch behind Zak’s ears, and the puppy melts, flopping onto his side with a happy grunt. Jisung grins smugly, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “See? Total fucking alpha over here.”

You roll your eyes so hard you swear they might get stuck. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, turning back to your reflection. Your fingers work the toner into your skin and for a moment, the only sound is the music and the storm outside.

Jisung breaks the silence with a sudden, almost-too-loud, “Hey, you missed a spot.”

You whip around, narrowing your eyes at him. “Where?”

He points vaguely at your cheek, an innocent expression on his face. “Right there. No, wait, there. Actually, fuck, you should probably just start over.”

“Fuck you,” you say with no real venom, throwing the used cotton pad at his head. It lands on Zak instead, who sniffs at it curiously before deciding it’s not worth the effort.

“Rude,” Jisung says, grinning as he picks the pad off Zak’s back and tosses it onto the floor. “I’m trying to help here.”

“Your version of help is being a fucking asshole,” you retort, grabbing your serum. The glass bottle feels cool and solid in your hand, grounding you as you pat the liquid onto your cheeks.

Jisung watches you, his head tilted to one side like he’s trying to figure something out. “You know,” he says slowly, “I don’t get why you bother covering up all your freckles. They’re hot as fuck.”

You freeze mid-pat, blinking at him. “What?”

“Your freckles,” he repeats, propping himself up higher on the bed. Zak takes the opportunity to try and lick his face again, but Jisung dodges him expertly. “They’re like, I don’t know, constellations or some shit. Fucking unreal.”

A flush creeps up your neck, but you force yourself to keep working the serum into your skin. “You’re so fucking corny,” you mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Corny but right,” he shoots back, leaning down to kiss Zak’s head. The puppy wriggles happily, thumping his tail against Jisung’s thigh. “You’re like a walking fucking galaxy. It’s nuts.”

You groan, finally turning to face him. “Can you go one fucking minute without saying something completely ridiculous?”

“Nope,” he says easily, grinning at you. “It’s part of my charm.”

Zak barks, cutting through the moment like a knife, and you glance at him with a soft laugh. “Poor baby’s scared of the storm.”

“Scared?” Jisung scoffs, pulling Zak closer. “Nah, he’s just dramatic as fuck. Like me.”

“God help us,” you say under your breath as Jisung manages to get Zak to sit still in his lap for longer than two seconds.

“Victory,” Jisung says smugly, pressing a triumphant kiss to your temple. “Told you I’m the alpha.”

Jisung tilts his head back against the wall, his silver hair sticking up in wild, unkempt tufts. His eyes are half-lidded, following your every move as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Zak has finally settled on the bed beside him, chewing on one of Jisung’s socks with the kind of ferocity only a puppy can muster.

“We could pawn Zak off on Chan,” Jisung says suddenly, his voice cutting through the storm’s din. The teasing edge in his tone is unmistakable. “Or better yet, Minho. That fucker loves this little gremlin.”

You glance at him through the streaked mirror, your eyebrow arching. “Yeah, and why the fuck would we send my dog to Minho, of all people?”

“So we could Netflix and chill,” Jisung replies, his smirk spreading wide as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, as long as I don’t nut, it’s still fair game.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your moisturizer. “Because that worked out so fucking well last time, right? Minho was banging on the wall the whole fucking time.”

Jisung groans, dragging his hand down his face. “That cunt needs to get over himself. Like he doesn’t fuck loudly. I heard him and some Kappa Tau girl last week, and I’m still traumatized.”

You snort, trying not to laugh too hard as you dab cream onto your cheeks. “You know Minho would bury you alive for saying that.”

“Yeah, well, he can suck my dick until- Wait, no, he can’t.” Jisung pauses, the realization hitting mid-sentence. “Fuck. No Nut November is ruining my comebacks.”

You roll your eyes, biting back another laugh. “Tragic.”

Jisung grins, clearly refusing to let the moment go. “Fine, if Netflix is too risky, what about Disney Plus and eating puss?”

The words hit like a record scratch, and you freeze mid-pat, staring at him. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m an innovator,” he counters smugly. “Amazon Prime and sexy time? HBO Max and relax? Babe, I can do this all night.”

“You’re going to make me lose brain cells,” you mutter, turning back to the mirror and smearing moisturizer across your face with more force than necessary.

“Please, you love it,” Jisung says, practically purring. “You love how fucking clever I am.”

“Clever, my ass,” you retort. “You’re a walking shitpost with a good jawline.”

“And you’re the love of my life,” he shoots back smoothly. “Funny how that works.”

Before you can answer, a muffled voice echoes through the wall. “I swear to God, if you fuckers start again, I’m torching this house.”

You blink, startled, and Jisung immediately shouts back. “Shut up, Minho! No one asked for your fucking input!”

“Oh, I’m giving it anyway!” Minho yells. “Every time you so much as think about touching her, I hear it. The moaning, the spanking. Do you have any idea how thin these walls are?”

Jisung looks genuinely scandalized. “Spanking? You’re imagining shit now, man.”

“Oh, I’m imagining?!” Minho fires back. “You’re the one who kept me up until two in the fucking morning last week with your unholy fucking racket!”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting laid and you’re stuck cuddling your cats!” Jisung shouts, his voice dripping with smugness.

“Jealous? Of you? You couldn’t make me jealous if you paid me!” The venom in Minho’s tone is undercut by the sound of Zak barking, his tail thumping wildly against the bed.

Jisung turns to Zak, gesturing wildly. “See? Even the dog agrees you’re full of shit!”

Zak barks again, clearly thinking this is all one big game, and Jisung grins triumphantly. “That’s two against one, Minho!”

There’s silence for a beat, and then Minho’s door slams open. A moment later, he’s standing in Jisung’s doorway, his hair a mess, his face twisted into a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Zak immediately perks up, tail wagging so hard it’s practically a weapon.

“Fucking hell, I should’ve known better than to try reasoning with you,” Minho says, stalking into the room. “You’re like a fucking feral raccoon in human form.”

“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Jisung says brightly, clearly unfazed. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I’m about to beat the shit out of you, that’s what’s up,” Minho snaps, lunging for the bed. Zak jumps out of the way just in time as Minho tackles Jisung, both of them hitting the floor in a chaotic mess of limbs and curses.

“Minho, you fucking dick!” Jisung yells, laughing despite himself as Minho gets him in a loose headlock. “You’re gonna fucking kill me!”

“Good!” Minho barks, tightening his grip. “I’ll finally get some fucking sleep!”

Zak bounces around them, barking excitedly, his tail a blur of motion. You sit back in your chair, watching the chaos unfold with a look of mild amusement. “You know, sometimes I think you two are secretly dating,” you comment, winding another strand of hair into a roller.

Minho pauses mid-shove, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Wow, she knows. Guess we’re out now.”

“Busted,” Jisung wheezes from under him. “Sorry you had to find out this way, babe.”

You hum, leaning forward to inspect your reflection. “Makes sense. The sexual tension’s been unbearable for months.”

“Fuck off,” Minho grumbles, finally releasing Jisung and flopping onto his back. Zak takes the opportunity to pounce on him, licking his face like his life depends on it.

Jisung sits up, rubbing his neck with a wince. “Minho, since you’re already here, wanna take Zak for the night?”

“Fuck no,” Minho says immediately as he scratches behind Zak's ears. “But thanks for asking.”

“Coward,” Jisung mutters, collapsing back onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you with that familiar mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with trouble. “So… Disney Plus and eating puss?”

You throw a hair roller at his head.

The dim kitchen glows faintly under the yellow overhead light, the kind of low, uneven light that makes everything feel softer, less real. The storm outside has eased into a gentle drizzle, the sound of rain on the windows rhythmic and soothing.

You’re leaning against the counter, cradling a mug of tea that’s still too hot to drink, your fingers playing idly with the spoon inside it. The hum of the electric kettle lingers in the background, filling the quiet with something steady.

Jisung’s hoodie swallows you, the oversized fabric brushing your thighs, the sleeves pooled around your wrists. The faint smell of him lingers in the material, making you feel cocooned despite the chill of the kitchen tiles against your fuzzy-socked feet.

It’s stupidly late, probably close to three in the morning, but the house is finally quiet, and you needed this. The calm, the tea, the moment to yourself.

The creak of the old floorboards makes you glance over your shoulder. Minho materializes in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, looking half-asleep but still somehow put together in that effortless way that pisses you off.

His red hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, like he’s been wrestling with a pillow all night, and his sweatpants hang low on his hips, barely clinging there. He squints at you, his lips tugging into a crooked smirk.

“Holy shit,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep. “A fucking cryptid in her natural habitat.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to your tea. “Fuck off, Minho.”

“No, really,” he continues, stepping fully into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless on the tile. “I didn’t think anyone else was dumb enough to be awake at this hour, but here you fucking are. What’re you doing? Summoning demons? Making moon water?”

“Drinking tea,” you reply dryly, taking a careful sip. The liquid is still scalding, but you let the heat settle on your tongue, the warmth a small comfort.

“Tea,” Minho echoes, leaning against the counter next to you, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. “At three in the fucking morning. What are you, eighty?”

You give him a flat look. “You’re awake, too, asshole.”

“Yeah, because I’m plotting my victory,” he says, his smirk sharpening into something cocky. “Speaking of, you’re just the person I need.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, setting your mug down with a soft clink. “What’s it this time? Another fucking prank? Did you break something and need me to lie for you?”

Minho scoffs, waving a hand. “Please, I don’t need you to cover for me. I’ve never been caught in my life.”

You snort. “Right. I’m sure all those broken lamps were ‘ghosts.’”

“Exactly,” he says without missing a beat. Then his tone shifts, conspiratorial, as he leans closer. “But this? This is bigger. I need your help to make sure Jisung loses No Nut November.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “That’s what this is about?”

“Duh,” Minho replies, grinning. “You’ve got insider access. You’re practically a double agent. Think of the chaos we could cause.”

You arch a brow at him, unimpressed. “And why the fuck would I help you?”

“Because,” he says smoothly, his grin widening, “I’ll split the winnings with you. Four hundred bucks for each of us. Think about it. Easy money.”

“Easy money?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”

Minho presses a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. “You wound me, Y/N. I don’t need to scam you. I’m just here for the bragging rights.”

“Sure you are,” you say, picking up your tea again. “And what if Jisung finds out I’m helping you? You know he’s never gonna shut up about it.”

Minho shrugs, unbothered. “Let him whine. He’s already lost. You just have to speed up the inevitable.”

You take a long sip, letting the warmth of the tea settle in your chest. Minho watches you carefully, his red hair catching the dim light in uneven strands, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He’s serious, dead serious, but there’s that usual layer of smugness that makes you want to slap him and laugh at the same time.

“Fine,” you say finally, lowering your mug. “But if this backfires, you’re fucking dead.”

“Deal,” Minho says immediately, sticking out his hand. When you don’t take it, he drops it with a shrug. “You won’t regret this. Four hundred bucks and bragging rights. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And yet,” Minho counters, grinning like the cat that caught the fucking canary, “you always come through for me. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You groan, turning away from him to grab a tea bag from the box. “I’m starting to regret this already.”

“No, you’re not,” he says confidently, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. He crunches into it loudly, leaning casually against the counter as if he owns the place. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Fuck off, Minho,” you say again, but this time you’re smiling.

He winks at you, already backing out of the kitchen. “Remember, Y/N. Four hundred bucks. Don’t let me down.”

“Go to bed, you shithead,” you call after him, laughing softly as he disappears into the dark hallway.

The sound of his retreating footsteps fades, and you’re left alone in the quiet kitchen. The tea in your mug is cooling now, the faint hum of the kettle gone, replaced by the soft patter of rain on the windows. You shake your head to yourself, a small laugh escaping your lips.

You take another sip of tea, savouring the warmth, and let yourself imagine the absolute fucking disaster the next few weeks are bound to be.

Jisung slams his car door with more force than necessary, muttering a string of curses as his bag slides off his shoulder and hits the damp ground. “Fucking perfect,” he huffs, yanking it back up and trudging toward the Alpha Phi house.

The air is crisp, the remnants of last night’s storm lingering in the wet asphalt and the occasional dripping from the gutters. He doesn’t care. His head is pounding, his brain fried from a brutal day of back-to-back lectures, and the reminder email about his project deadline still burns in his inbox, taunting him.

Punching in the house code feels like an Olympic event, and the beep of the lock barely registers as he shoves the door open. Inside, chaos greets him like an old friend. Voices echo from the living room. Loud, competitive, definitely a FIFA match. Someone yells, “Fucking cheater!” and a loud thud follows. Jisung sighs, shaking his head as he drags himself toward the stairs.

“Home sweet fucking home,” he mutters under his breath, gripping the banister as he hauls himself up. His legs feel like lead, and all he wants is to collapse in his bed and sleep until finals are over or until the world ends, whichever comes first.

He reaches his room, pushing the door open, already yanking his sweatshirt over his head. The fabric catches on his silver hair, making it stick up even worse than usual, but he doesn’t care. He tosses it somewhere near his desk and looks up and freezes like a deer in headlights.

You’re on his bed, lying on your side, fast asleep. Your red lace-trimmed nightgown clings to your body like a second skin, the soft material pooling around your thighs. The thin straps barely sit on your shoulders, one having slipped down to reveal more skin than Jisung can handle looking at right now.

The dim light from his bedside lamp bathes you in a warm glow, catching on the curve of your collarbone, the dip of your waist, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Zak snores softly from his dog bed in the corner, blissfully unaware of Jisung’s internal crisis. The puppy’s legs twitch in his sleep, chasing whatever dream dogs have, and for a moment, Jisung envies the little shit. At least Zak doesn’t have to deal with the torture of you existing like this, looking like every wet dream Jisung’s ever had.

He closes the door as quietly as he can, leaning against it for support as his knees threaten to give out. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Okay, okay, get it together. You’re a grown-ass man. You’ve seen her in this before. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

But it is a big fucking deal, because it’s day eight of No Nut November, and his brain is turning to soup at the sight of you. He swallows hard, dragging his eyes away from you and staring at the ceiling instead.

“Feet,” he says to himself, trying to drown out the heat crawling up his neck. “Dirty, gross feet. Toenail fungus. Yeah. That’s disgusting. Uh… Chan’s sweaty gym towel. That’s nasty, right?”

The corner of his eye betrays him. He glances back at you, and it’s a fucking mistake. You shift slightly, your leg stretching out just enough for the lace trim of your nightgown to ride higher on your thigh. His mouth goes dry, and he bites his lip, hard enough to hurt.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, jagiya?” he whispers, dragging a hand down his face. “This is cruelty. Actual fucking cruelty.”

He starts pacing, his socked feet barely making a sound on the worn carpet. “Minho’s fucking smug face. Yeah, that’s gross. Him winning and rubbing it in my face forever. Fuck that guy. He’s not winning. I’m not losing to him. No fucking way.”

Zak shifts in his sleep, snorting softly, and Jisung glares at him like the puppy is in on the conspiracy. “Oh, sure, you get to sleep through this shit,” he mutters. “Meanwhile, I’m fighting for my goddamn life.”

His eyes flick back to you, again, because apparently, he’s a fucking masochist, and his pacing halts. The soft, steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair spills over his pillow like a halo, the gentle pout of your lips as you sleep. It’s too much. His heart pounds in his chest like a drum, and his jeans are officially too fucking tight.

“Fuck, no, no,” he mutters, resuming his pacing. “Chan’s unwashed jockstrap. Disgusting. So gross. Sweaty gym socks. That’s worse. Uh… Minho farting in his sleep. Fucking nightmare fuel.”

But nothing works. His mind keeps circling back to you, to the way you look so effortlessly perfect, so completely at ease in his bed. It’s infuriating. It’s torture. It’s everything he wants but can’t have, not for another twenty-two fucking days.

He collapses into his desk chair, spinning it away from the bed as if not looking at you will somehow solve his problem. Grabbing a pen, he starts scribbling nonsense on a blank page of his notebook, anything to keep his hands busy. “I’m an idiot. A horny fucking idiot.”

The sound of your soft breathing drifts to his ears again, and he freezes. Slowly, he turns his head, just in time to see you stretch slightly, the hem of your nightgown riding even higher. His grip on the pen tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“I’m fucked,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking fucked.”

And it’s only day eight.

It’s day eleven, and Jisung is hanging on by a fucking thread.

He’s at his desk, headphones on, his laptop open to a blank Google Doc labeled Final Project. The blinking cursor taunts him, mocking his inability to focus, but it’s not the assignment that’s frying his brain.

It’s you. Lying there on his bed like some goddess of temptation, draped in black lace and blissful fucking ignorance, or, more likely, deliberate fucking malice. Jisung isn’t sure which one he prefers.

You’re sprawled on your stomach, completely absorbed in a paperback, the cover bent at the spine from the way you’re gripping it. Your legs kick lazily behind you, bare feet flexing as you shift every so often, and the lace hot pants you’re wearing are clinging to your ass in a way that should be criminal. The matching bralette doesn’t help either, thin straps digging into your shoulders, highlighting the line of your collarbone, the delicate curves of your body.

Jisung steals another glance, his eleventh in two minutes, and swears under his breath, dragging his eyes back to his screen. He adjusts his chair, angling it slightly away from the bed in a vain attempt to save himself. But you’re still in his peripheral vision, all soft curves and casual perfection, and it’s like trying to ignore the sun.

Focus. Journalism. Deadlines. Anything but her fucking legs.

“So,” he says finally, clearing his throat in a desperate bid to distract himself. His voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse. “What’s the book about?”

Without looking up, you flip a page and reply nonchalantly, “This girl who goes to a BDSM club and meets a Dom. He’s training her to be a submissive. Felix said I’d like it.”

Jisung chokes on absolutely nothing, coughing as his brain short-circuits. He rubs the back of his neck, heat creeping up the collar of his hoodie. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Sounds, uh, educational.”

“It is,” you say, completely fucking unfazed as you turn another page. “Right now, they’re practising shibari.”

Jisung presses his palm against his crotch on instinct, trying to will his dick into submission. The word conjures up all the wrong memories, your wrists tied to the headboard with his belt, the soft ropes he’d run down your thighs one night while you begged him to do more. The image is so vivid it feels like he’s there, the sounds of your breathy moans echoing in his head.

“Great!” he blurts out, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “Love that for them. Very… artistic. Super… cultural.”

You hum in agreement, your tone casual, but there’s something in the faint tilt of your lips, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. Jisung’s grip tightens on his desk, his knuckles whitening as he fights the urge to look at you again.

“You okay over there?” you ask suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence like a fucking knife. When he looks up, you’re watching him, your gaze sharp and amused, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips.

“Me?” he squeaks. He clears his throat, forcing a weak laugh as he spins his chair to hide his crotch from view. “Totally fine. Just, uh, thinking about deadlines. Journalism stuff. You know, very serious, not at all horny things.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, clearly not buying a word of it. You shake your head slightly, returning to your book with that same faint smirk that’s driving him out of his goddamn mind.

Jisung stares at his screen, forcing his eyes to stay there, but it’s a losing battle. Every movement you make, the way your legs shift just enough to reveal more of your thighs, the way your back arches slightly when you adjust your position, it’s fucking torture. He can feel the sweat on his palms, the heat prickling at the back of his neck, and he swears if he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to lose the bet, the pot, and his fucking dignity.

“I, uh, need water,” he says abruptly, standing so quickly his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He bolts for the door, practically slamming it behind him, leaning back against it once he’s in the hallway.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, his body still on fire from the last ten minutes of torture.

“Jisung?” Your voice drifts faintly through the door, muffled but still teasing. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Totally fine!” he calls back, voice cracking again as he presses his hands to his overheated cheeks. “Just dehydrated! Gonna go hydrate!”

Your soft laugh floats through the wood, and he groans, pushing himself off the door to head for the kitchen. He needs water. Ice-cold water. And maybe an exorcism.

“Just nineteen fucking days,” he mutters to himself as he stalks down the hall. “You’ve got this. Don’t let her win. Don’t let her fucking win.”

But even as he reaches the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, the image of you sprawled across his bed, all lace and legs, refuses to leave his mind.

Nineteen days has never felt so fucking impossible.

The Alpha Phi house is eerily quiet as you pad downstairs, the faint creak of the stairs barely audible under the soft padding of your Winnie the Pooh slippers. The chill of the hardwood seeps through even their plush cushioning, but you ignore it, tugging the hem of your midnight blue nightgown down slightly. Not that it does much, the lace clings to your body like a second skin, the thigh-high slits swaying with every step. The cold doesn’t matter; the promise of tea and a few stolen moments of peace is worth it.

When you push open the kitchen door, the faint yellow light from the stove reveals a figure already waiting there. Minho leans casually against the counter, arms crossed, his red hair sticking up like he lost a fight with his pillow and didn’t bother fixing it.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a black hoodie, but the smirk plastered across his face gives him an aura of smug authority like he’s a villain in some low-budget spy film.

“Took you long enough,” he drawls, his voice soft but laced with amusement. “Thought you’d chickened out.”

You arch an eyebrow, stepping past him to the counter where the kettle waits. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve been lurking in the dark like some kind of horror movie villain.”

“Not lurking,” Minho corrects, pushing off the counter to sit on one of the stools at the island. “Strategizing. This is serious business.”

You fill the kettle with water, side-eyeing him. “Serious business? Are you starting a Ponzi scheme?”

“No,” he says, grinning. “Something better. Day eleven, Y/N. Four down, three more to go.”

You pause mid-pour, glancing over your shoulder. “Four? Already?”

“Changbin folded on day six. Hyunjin broke yesterday. Seungmin cracked this morning, and Jeongin, poor kid, lasted, like, ten seconds after that. Felix is next. I’ve been fucking with his algorithm so all he gets is porn ads. MILFs. Stepsisters. The works.” His grin widens, downright evil. “It’s only a matter of time.”

You laugh, flicking the kettle on and leaning against the counter. “You’re a menace. He’s gonna kill you.”

“Worth it,” Minho says smugly. “And Chan? He’s going down tonight.”

That catches your attention. Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cross your arms. “Chan? No fucking way. He’s supposed to be untouchable.”

Minho shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I called in a favour. His girlfriend’s helping me out. Dude’s toast.”

The kettle starts to hum, and you grab a mug, already smirking. “You’re like a goddamn Bond villain. What’s next? A cat and a monologue?”

Minho grins, resting his chin in his hand. “I’m saving the monologue for Jisung. He’s gonna break soon, thanks to you.”

You snort, grabbing a tea bag and dropping it into your mug. “He’s tougher than you think. I’ve been subtle, but he’s holding up.”

Minho’s smirk deepens. “Subtle, huh? That what you call lying in his bed reading BDSM erotica?”

Your lips twitch as you pour the boiling water into your mug. “Research,” you say, deadpan. “I’m helping him broaden his horizons.”

“Sure you are,” Minho drawls, drumming his fingers on the counter. “What’s the next phase of your master plan? Flashing him in Morse code?”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing against the chill of the room, and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Red lace lingerie,” you say casually, scrolling to the photo of the set you ordered. You slide the phone across the counter to him.

Minho picks it up, and his eyes widen. “Holy fuck.” He slaps the counter, grinning like a maniac. “Crotchless panties? You’re a fucking genius.”

“And lollipops,” you add, sipping your tea. “The good ones, cherry and strawberry"

Minho barks out a laugh, standing abruptly and pulling you into a tight hug. “Y/N, you magnificent, evil, sexy mastermind. I love you.”

You laugh against his shoulder, half-heartedly patting his back. “Okay, calm the fuck down. You’re gonna dislocate something.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, pulling back and holding your shoulders dramatically. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you agree, smirking. “But don’t celebrate yet. He’s stubborn.”

Minho’s grin sharpens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s a man. And all men fall eventually.”

“You sound like a poster for villainy,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and heading for the door.

“Thank you,” Minho calls after you, following close behind. “It’s my life’s work.”

As you both step into the darkened hallway, the quiet hum of the house around you, there’s a shared gleam of determination in your eyes. Jisung’s resolve is strong, sure. But between you and Minho? That resolve is doomed.

Day fifteen of No Nut November feels like a cruel joke, and Jisung is living it. He trudges into the Alpha Phi house, his bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, the faint drone of an investigative journalism podcast still playing in one ear.

He tugs out the earbuds as the warmth of the house envelopes him, the smell of takeout lingering faintly in the air. His stomach growls loudly, and he follows the sound of voices toward the kitchen, praying there’s something left in the fridge.

As he steps into the kitchen, he freezes.

You’re leaning against the counter, legs crossed casually, wearing one of his hoodies that swallows you whole and a pair of shorts so tiny they might as well not exist. But it’s not the shorts that make his breath catch, it’s the goddamn lollipop in your hand.

Cherry red, glossy as fuck, it glistens under the dim light of the kitchen as you bring it to your lips. Your cheeks hollow as you suck on it, and the slow pull as you let it slide free makes his brain short-circuit. The wet sound it makes when it leaves your mouth feels louder than it should, and Jisung can feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

Across from you, Minho leans against the kitchen island, gesturing wildly as he speaks. His voice is animated, the sharp contrast to your calm, deliberate movements only adding to Jisung’s torment.

“I’m telling you, Anthony’s arc in season two is what every rom-com wishes it could be,” Minho says, slicing through the air with one hand for emphasis. “The tension. The angst. The man is a fucking masterpiece of repressed emotions.”

You nod, twirling the lollipop between your fingers like it’s a goddamn performance art piece. “True, but Kate? She’s everything. The way she completely dismantles him? Perfect.”

Minho claps his hands together, pointing at you. “Exactly! She’s not just a love interest, she’s a fucking force of nature.”

“And Bridgerton’s not even my thing,” you add, rolling the lollipop over your tongue like you’re savouring every second. “But that season? Art.”

Jisung swallows hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He forces himself to move, heading toward the fridge like it’s his only lifeline, but every movement you make draws his eyes back to you. The way your lips purse, the subtle pop as the candy leaves your mouth, the faint glint of red on your tongue. It’s a sensory fucking overload.

“Jagiya,” he says, his voice rough, barely masking the tension simmering under the surface. “What’s going on in here?”

You glance up, all wide eyes and faux innocence, like you’re not killing him one suck at a time. “Just talking Bridgerton. Minho finally convinced me to binge it with him.”

“Changed her life,” Minho adds with an exaggerated nod. “Changed mine, too, honestly. You’ve gotta watch it, man.”

Jisung barely registers the words as he yanks open the fridge, desperate for a distraction. “Uh-huh,” he mutters, rummaging aimlessly. “I’ll… check it out.”

Before he can decide between the last sad slice of pizza and some questionable-looking noodles, chaos erupts from the living room.

“Zak’s got my fucking shoe!” Jeongin’s panicked voice echoes down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of paws skidding on hardwood and a low, playful growl.

“Shit,” Jisung curses, slamming the fridge shut and dropping his bag. “Not again.” He turns on his heel, bolting out of the kitchen. “Zak! No! Drop it, you little shit!”

As his shouts fade into the distance, you and Minho exchange a look, your lips twitching as you try to hold back your laughter. The moment the front door slams shut, Minho breaks first, his grin splitting wide.

“This is too fucking good,” he says, holding out a hand. You slap your palm against his in a victorious high-five.

“Too easy,” you agree, popping the lollipop back into your mouth with a slow swirl. “Fifteen days in, and the guy’s fucking unravelling.”

“Crotchless panties, lollipops, and Bridgerton,” Minho muses, shaking his head in admiration. “You’re a fucking evil genius.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you say, smirking as you lean back against the counter.

Minho leans closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You really think he’s gonna make it another fifteen days?”

“Not a fucking chance,” you reply with a laugh. “He’s hanging on by a thread.”

From down the hall, Jisung’s voice booms. “Zak! Get back here, you little asshole! Jeongin, fucking grab him!”

You and Minho dissolve into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen as you both lean against the counter, barely able to breathe. Zak’s playful barks and Jeongin’s exasperated shouts add to the cacophony, and you shake your head, already plotting the next step in the slow, delicious dismantling of Han Jisung’s self-control.

Minho grins, lifting an imaginary glass. “To the fall of Han Jisung. May it be dramatic and horny as fuck.”

You clink your lollipop against his raised hand like it’s a toast, laughing as the chaos continues in the background.

Day eighteen, and Jisung feels like he’s at war. With himself, with his body, with you. Especially you.

He sits at his desk, staring at the screen of his laptop, the cursor blinking accusingly at him from an unfinished article. The words on the page blur together, his focus long since obliterated by weeks of tension, frustration, and sheer stubborn determination to see this thing through. His head rests in his hands, fingers tugging at his silver hair as he groans softly.

The sound of running water from the bathroom shuts off, and a few seconds later, your voice carries through the partially open door. Soft, teasing, fucking lethal. “Jisung? Can you come here for a sec?”

His stomach tightens at the sound of your voice. He lifts his head slowly, blinking blearily at the bathroom door like it might bite him. “Yeah, jagiya,” he calls back, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and too much fantasizing. “What’s up?”

There’s a brief pause before you respond, your tone light but with that playful edge that makes his nerves fray. “Do I look okay in this?”

His chest tightens as alarm bells go off in his head. “What the fuck does she mean by this?” He swivels in his chair just as the bathroom door swings open, and his breath hitches violently in his throat.

You step into the room like a goddamn vision, leaning lazily against the doorframe, the silk of your red robe gleaming in the soft light. It’s barely tied, just loose enough to offer a maddening glimpse of what lies beneath. Red lace lingerie. The sheer fabric clings to you, teasing every curve, and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Almost.

But it’s not just the outfit. It’s the way you look at him, head tilted slightly, a small, knowing smile curling your lips. Like you’re perfectly aware of the chaos you’re causing. Like you’re daring him to do something about it.

“Fuck,” Jisung mutters under his breath, the word barely audible. His throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper, and his eyes flicker helplessly between your face and the barely-there lace. “Are those… Are those panties crotchless?”

You tilt your head, your smile widening, and his stomach clenches painfully. “Yep,” you say simply, popping the p like it’s a punchline.

He drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Jesus fucking Christ, jagiya.” His voice is strained, low, his usual wit nowhere to be found. “You’re fucking killing me.”

“Am I?” you reply, feigning innocence as your fingers brush the tie of the robe. You loosen it slightly, the silk parting just enough to make his dick throb painfully against the confines of his jeans. “You look a little tense.”

“Tense?” Jisung barks out a sharp laugh, but it sounds more like a gasp. “I’m fucking dying over here.”

You take a step closer, your bare feet making no sound on the floor. His chair creaks slightly as he leans back, as if putting more distance between you will save him. It doesn’t. “Remember,” you murmur, trailing a hand down the edge of your robe, “there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

He stares at you, his eyes wide, his jaw tight. “Eleven days,” he whispers, the words shaky. He nods, more to himself than to you, as if it’s a mantra. “Just eleven days left.”

“Only eleven,” you say sweetly, stepping close enough that he can smell the faint, intoxicating trace of your perfume.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his cheek lightly before you step past him like it’s nothing. He watches, completely frozen, as you walk to his bed, the silk of your robe swaying with each step, offering him maddening glimpses of lace and bare skin.

You climb onto the bed, tugging the blankets up around you like the fucking angel of temptation, and settle in with a soft sigh. Adjusting your eye mask, you mumble, “Goodnight, Ji,” like you didn’t just turn his entire world inside out.

Zak pads over from the corner, circling in his dog bed before flopping down with a contented snuffle. The room falls quiet again, save for the faint hum of the heater and the sound of your breathing, steady and soft.

Jisung doesn’t move. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at you as if you might disappear if he looks away. His chest heaves, his palms sweaty against the armrests of his chair. His jeans are too fucking tight, and his head feels like it’s filled with static.

“Twenty-nine days,” he mutters to himself, still staring at the bed. “I just have to make it eleven more days”

The words hang in the air, unchallenged, as he finally drags himself out of the chair and collapses face-first onto the bed next to you. His brain is too fried to catch the glaring error in his thoughts. November has thirty days.

It’s midnight on day twenty-one, and the Alpha Phi house is cloaked in stillness. The creaks and groans of the old floorboards echo faintly through the empty halls, a reminder of just how old and lived-in the building is. Upstairs, Jisung lies face down on his bed, the thin black eye mask he’s taken to wearing crooked over his face. His breaths are deep, steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the room.

But even in sleep, his body is tense, his hands clutching the edge of his blanket like a lifeline. His subconscious knows, just as his waking mind does, that you are his undoing. One slip, one more calculated move on your part, and he’s fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. The quiet hum of the heater mingles with the soft clink of mugs and the occasional burst of muffled laughter. You and Minho are stationed near the counter, shoulders nearly brushing as you conspire under the faint yellow light of the stove. You’re wearing one of Jisung’s hoodies, the oversized fabric hanging off one shoulder, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Casual, innocent. Except the glint in your eye betrays you.

Minho leans against the counter, his red hair dishevelled in a way that’s more chaotic than usual, his expression half-amused, half-exasperated. He stares into his mug like it holds the answer to life’s greatest mysteries. “Why the fuck isn’t he out yet?” he mutters, his voice pitched low but tinged with frustration. “It’s day twenty-one, for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen weaker men fold over less.”

You smirk, swirling the tea in your mug before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Because,” you say with a calmness that only fuels Minho’s disbelief, “I made him think there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

Minho’s head jerks up, his brows furrowed as the words register. He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. “Wait, what?”

You tilt your head, your grin widening. “He thinks November has twenty-nine days. He’s counting down to the thirtieth like it’s December first.”

For a beat, Minho says nothing, his lips parting slightly as the full weight of your scheming hits him. Then, he lets out a low, incredulous laugh, doubling over and clutching the edge of the counter. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he says, shaking his head. “A diabolical, evil little bitch. I love it.”

“Diabolical, sure. Evil? Maybe.” You shrug one shoulder, looking smug as you lean back against the counter. “But effective.”

Minho slaps his palm against the counter, laughter bubbling up again. “You’re telling me this poor bastard is going to count down to the thirtieth thinking he’s free, and instead he’s gonna…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely with his mug.

“Rail me into next week,” you finish for him, deadpan, the corners of your lips twitching. “Yep.”

Minho’s laughter explodes into the stillness, and he has to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound. His shoulders shake as he struggles to catch his breath. “Holy fucking shit,” he wheezes, wiping at his mouth. “You’re a monster.”

“A monster who gets results,” you counter, raising your mug in a mock toast. “Jisung’s gonna lose. We're getting our money. You're getting bragging rights. I’m getting railed. Everyone wins.”

“Except Jisung,” Minho points out, grinning wickedly.

You wave a hand dismissively. “He’ll get over it. And by get over it, I mean he’ll be too busy thanking me for the best night of his life to care.”

Minho leans back against the counter, clutching his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You’re fucking unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “We should get married. You, me, unstoppable force. Absolute chaos.”

You arch a brow, smirking. “The world would implode.”

“Worth it,” he shoots back without missing a beat. “We’d conquer everything. Political coups? Easy. Social manipulation? Please.”

“World domination?” you offer, tilting your mug toward him.

“To chaos,” Minho declares, his grin stretching wide.

“To schemes,” you reply, your voice laced with laughter.

The sound of your quiet chuckles mingles with the distant hum of the heater. Upstairs, Jisung shifts in his sleep, as if some part of him knows the forces conspiring against him. But for now, the house settles back into quiet. Only the faint glint of mischief in both your eyes hints at the storm still to come.

Jisung’s room is dark, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds, casting long, uneven shadows across the walls. The heater hums softly, and the faint tick-tock of the clock on the wall keeps a steady rhythm, mocking him with every passing second.

Jisung lies flat on his back, his body rigid, tension coiled tight as a spring. The black eye mask he usually relies on is shoved up onto his forehead, forgotten in his hyper-focused state. He stares at the glowing digits of his bedside clock, willing them to change, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself still.

11:59 PM.

He mutters under his breath, his fists clenching the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Come on, come on,” he whispers, his voice rough.

His eyes flick to you. You’re lying beside him, curled on your side, your face soft and peaceful in sleep. One of his oversized T-shirts swallows your body, but the hem has ridden up just enough to reveal the curve of your thighs, and the sight makes his throat dry. He has to look away, his fingers twitching against the blanket.

12:00 AM.

Jisung’s entire body tenses. He feels it like a shift in the air like he’s been released from some invisible chain, and all he can think about is you. The past twenty-nine days flash in his mind like a slideshow: the lingerie, the teasing and the lollipops.

12:01 AM.

The dam breaks.

He moves faster than he’s thought about it, the blanket thrown off in one swift motion as he straddles you, pinning you beneath him with an almost feral energy. You let out a startled gasp, your eyes fluttering open as his hands wrap around your wrists, pressing them firmly above your head.

“Hands up,” he says, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. His silver hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles, his chest heaving as he stares down at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, and his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’ve had your fun, jagiya. Now it’s my fucking turn.”

You blink up at him, your voice breathless and tinged with confusion. “Jisung? What—?”

“No talking,” he cuts you off, his voice a low rasp as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “It’s December. You’ve been fucking torturing me for four weeks, and I’ve waited long enough.”

Before you can say another word, his mouth finds your neck, hot and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He bites down, harder than usual, making you gasp as heat floods your body. His tongue flicks out to soothe the sting, but he doesn’t stop. He trails down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking until your skin blooms with colour.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. His fingers dig in, holding you in place as you instinctively arch beneath him. “Do you know how many nights I lay here, staring at you, trying not to lose my fucking mind?”

“Jisung-” you start, but the words dissolve into a sharp gasp as his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder. His lips are relentless, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and marks down your chest.

“You’re not allowed to talk. Not tonight, jagiya. Tonight, you’re mine.”

His hands roam beneath your shirt, sliding over your waist, his touch searing against your skin. The tension in his movements is almost frantic, a desperate edge to the way his fingers curl into your flesh. He lifts the hem of your shirt, his eyes flickering down to take in the soft curve of your stomach, the bare expanse of skin he’s been craving.

“You drove me fucking insane,” he mutters, his lips tracing along your jaw. “The lace. The lollipops.”

“Did I?”

Jisung freezes for a split second, his eyes narrowing as he pulls back to look at you. “Oh, you little fucking brat,” he says, his grip tightening on your wrists. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be begging right now.”

“Big words,” you murmur, your voice laced with amusement. “You sure you’ve got the stamina after four weeks?”

His jaw tightens, and he smirks down at you, his expression dark and dangerous. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of stamina, jagiya. I’m just deciding how long I want to make you wait.”

His words send a thrill down your spine, but you manage to keep your composure, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You better make it worth the wait, then.”

Jisung’s response is a low, guttural growl as he leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so demanding it steals the air from your lungs. His hands release your wrists to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, until the world around you fades into nothing.

Across the room, Zak lets out a soft snore, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just feet away.

And as Jisung pulls back to nip at your bottom lip, his voice rough with satisfaction, he mutters, “Twenty-nine days without sex. Never fucking again.”

You bite back a grin, your heart racing as he presses his forehead against yours, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats. He still doesn’t realize.

There’s one more day left.

The clock strikes three, the Alpha Phi house cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden beams. The world outside is pitch-black, the kind of stillness that feels like a held breath.

Upstairs, in the aftermath of chaos, Jisung is dead to the world, sprawled across the bed like a man utterly wrecked. His silver hair sticks to his forehead, his skin glistening faintly in the dim light from the bedside lamp. The sheets are tangled around his legs, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm so steady it almost feels mocking.

You, however, are not wrecked. Not completely, anyway. No, you’re moving, albeit gingerly, your limbs protesting with every step.

The oversized T-shirt you’ve thrown on hangs loosely over your frame, brushing against the constellation of hickies blooming across your neck and collarbones. His boxers sit low on your hips, the waistband twisted from how carelessly you pulled them on. You wince as you descend the stairs, your thighs trembling just enough to remind you of what the past three hours have cost you.

The kitchen light is already on when you step inside, a soft, golden glow casting long shadows across the room. Minho is leaning against the counter, a mug in hand, his red hair an absolute disaster. He looks up when you enter, his expression shifting instantly into a wicked grin.

“You’re alive,” he greets, his voice low and gleeful. “Barely, but alive.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, collapsing into a chair at the island. You let out a low groan, adjusting yourself with exaggerated care. The movement pulls another sharp wince from you, and Minho’s grin only widens.

“Oh, my God,” he says, his voice laced with mock horror as he gestures toward you with his mug. “You’re walking like a goddamn baby deer. Did he break you?”

You flip him off without looking, grabbing the steaming mug he slides toward you. “If I didn’t need this tea so badly, I’d throw it in your fucking face.”

Minho laughs, the sound sharp and unapologetic as he leans forward, inspecting you like a scientist examining a particularly amusing specimen. “You got absolutely mauled, didn’t you?” He gestures vaguely to your neck, his smirk bordering on obscene. “Holy shit. He really went for it.”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing your raw throat as you scowl. “He thinks it’s December first. He acted like he just got out of a fucking chastity belt.”

“Well,” Minho says, straightening up with a shrug. “Technically, he did. Self-imposed, but still.” He pauses, tilting his head as his eyes scan the array of purpling marks dotting your skin. “You look like you got in a fight with a vampire and lost.”

You sigh dramatically, rolling your head back to stare at the ceiling. “He was…enthusiastic.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “Enthusiastic? You’re walking funny, for Christ’s sake. What’d he do? Hit you with a jackhammer?”

You snort into your tea, shaking your head. “Three hours. Three. Hours. I should’ve negotiated hazard pay.”

Minho lets out a bark of laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth to keep it down. His eyes sparkle with unrestrained delight as he leans across the counter. “And you let him go the whole time, knowing there’s still one more day left. You’re a fucking menace.”

You shrug, smirking into your mug. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself.”

Minho groans, slumping against the counter like he’s personally offended. “You’re the worst person I know, and I love you for it.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” you shoot back, sticking your tongue out.

“True,” Minho admits, his grin sharp as ever. He raises his mug in a mock toast. “To chaos. And to you, the evil genius who turned No Nut November into a fucking art form.”

“To my poor vagina,” you mutter, clinking your mug against his.

“To your poor vagina,” he echoes solemnly, before breaking into laughter again. “But hey, at least we’re both four hundred dollars richer.”

“And he’s clueless,” you add, sipping your tea with a smirk. “He’s upstairs, probably dreaming about how he ‘won’ the month. Meanwhile, I’ve got a twenty-four-hour ticking time bomb.”

Minho shakes his head, his grin softening into something almost admiring. “You’re a fucking trooper. A lunatic, but a trooper.”

You groan as you adjust in your chair again, the ache in your thighs flaring up. “If I never move again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Hey, if he comes looking for round two, just scream for help,” Minho says, his tone half-serious. “I’ll grab a fire extinguisher.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “If he comes looking for round two, I’m throwing you at him. You can fend him off.”

“Deal,” Minho says. “But only after I tell him he lost.”

The two of you share a conspiratorial grin, the quiet kitchen filled with the warmth of shared victory. Upstairs, Jisung snores softly, blissfully unaware of the truth lurking in the shadows. Down here, you and Minho toast to his downfall, savoring every second of the calm before the final storm.

Morning light spills through the Alpha Phi kitchen window, painting everything in soft, golden hues. The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the muffled hum of the refrigerator.

Jisung shuffles in, his T-shirt rumpled from sleep, his silver hair sticking out at odd angles like he’s been wrestling his pillow all night. Zak trots at his heels, his tail wagging lazily as he sniffs around before padding to the back door.

Jisung yawns loudly, scratching the back of his head as he unlatches the door and lets Zak out into the garden. “Go on, buddy,” he mutters, his voice heavy with sleep. “Do your thing.”

The puppy bounds into the yard, and Jisung shuts the door with a soft click, turning toward the coffee machine like it’s his lifeline. He grabs a mug from the cabinet, barely registering Minho leaning against the counter, his red hair dishevelled and his grin obnoxiously wide.

“Morning, champ,” Minho greets, his tone thick with smug amusement.

Jisung blinks at him, his expression blank as his sleep-fogged brain processes the sound. “Morning,” he mumbles back, spooning coffee grounds into the machine. He leans heavily against the counter, waiting for the drip to start, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at nothing in particular.

Minho sips from his mug, watching him with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes. “Rough night?” he asks innocently, swirling the tea in his cup like he’s plotting something.

Jisung snorts, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “You could say that. She’s still out cold.”

Minho lets out a low whistle, setting his mug down with exaggerated care. “Oh, I bet she is,” he says, his voice practically dripping with innuendo. “You two were loud as fuck last night. Thought the walls were gonna cave in.”

Jisung’s face reddens further, and he glares weakly at Minho. “Could you not? It’s too early for your bullshit.”

Minho grins wider, pulling out his phone. “Oh, don’t worry. This is gonna wake you up real quick.” He taps the screen a few times before holding it up, his smirk downright wicked. “Check it out.”

Jisung squints at the screen, his brow furrowing. The bold numbers on the display are unmistakable. 30th of November. He stares, his mind moving sluggishly as he tries to make sense of it.

“Wait,” he says, his voice slow, thick with confusion. “That can’t be right. There’s… twenty-nine days in November, right? Leap year or something?”

Minho freezes, his grin widening into something feral before he bursts out laughing. The sound is sharp and sudden, echoing through the quiet kitchen as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. “Oh my fucking god,” he wheezes, sliding halfway down the counter. “You’re serious? Holy shit- When she said- I thought-”

Jisung frowns, his confusion giving way to irritation. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” he demands, his voice tinged with suspicion. “What’s so funny?”

Minho wipes tears from his eyes, taking a steadying breath before straightening up. He sets his phone down, shaking his head in disbelief. “You, dumbass,” he says, his voice still shaking with laughter. “You got played so fucking hard.”

Jisung crosses his arms, his frown deepening. “Played?” His voice rises with incredulity. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Minho leans closer, his grin pure chaos. “Your girlfriend,” he says, drawing out the words like he’s savouring them. “She fucking got you. All those little outfits, all the teasing, all the bullshit about November having twenty-nine days? That was all her plan.”

Jisung stares at him, his jaw slack as the pieces slowly fall into place. “No way,” he mutters, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t-”

“Oh, she would,” Minho interrupts gleefully. “And she did. And the best part? It wasn’t even my idea, all I wanted was for her to make you lose. She came up with the whole thing herself. I just sat back and watched her turn you into a horny fucking wreck.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, his face cycling through disbelief, frustration, and begrudging admiration. “So you’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that all those nights you two spent drinking tea in the kitchen were-”

“Exactly what you thought they were,” Minho says smugly. “Strategizing. She played you like a fucking fiddle.”

Jisung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are the absolute worst.”

“Don’t lie,” Minho counters, smirking as he picks up his mug again. “You love it. Besides, you’re not even mad, are you? Not after last night.”

Jisung glares at him, though his ears burn red. “I should be pissed.”

“But you’re not,” Minho says, leaning back against the counter with a satisfied sigh. “Because you had a fucking night. Admit it—she wrecked you just as much as you wrecked her.”

Jisung shakes his head, a reluctant laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe she did all that for you.”

“For us,” Minho corrects, his grin softening slightly. “She got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, and you got the ride of your fucking life. Everyone’s happy.”

Jisung pours his coffee, stirring in sugar and cream, and takes a long sip before sighing. “You’re right. I’m not mad. I’m impressed.” He glances at Minho, his eyes narrowing. “But you’re still a smug little shit.”

Minho raises his mug in a toast, his grin sharper than ever. “To evil geniuses. And to Y/N, the queen of playing the long game.”

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling as he clinks his mug against Minho’s.

The Alpha Phi house is buzzing with noise and energy, the lazy chaos of a Saturday afternoon after a night of absolute madness. The living room is packed with bodies, sprawled across couches, beanbags, and the carpet, half-eaten takeout containers scattered across the coffee table alongside cans of beer and soda. Someone’s playlist hums softly in the background, but the real noise comes from the laughter and shit-talking ricocheting around the room.

Jisung sits slumped in a beanbag chair, arms crossed, his silver hair still sticking out at wild angles from sleep. He’s been subjected to nonstop teasing for the past few hours, and his pout grows deeper with every passing second. Zak is curled up at his feet, snoozing contentedly, oblivious to the chaos Jisung is enduring.

The sound of shuffling steps draws everyone’s attention to the staircase. You appear, dressed in one of Jisung’s oversized shirts that barely grazes your thighs, a pair of his boxers peeking out underneath. Your eye mask sits pushed up into your messy hair, and your trusty Winnie the Pooh slippers complete the look. Hickies bloom across your neck and collarbones, vivid and unapologetic, like badges of honour.

As soon as you step into the living room, the house explodes.

Whistles, applause, and cheers erupt from every corner of the room. Changbin pounds his fists against the couch arm like he’s at a sports game, while Felix claps loudly, grinning like he just saw the winning goal. Minho practically howls, throwing his head back with laughter, and Jeongin is doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“There she is!” Minho shouts, his grin devilish as he gestures toward you. “The queen of fucking chaos! The woman who broke Han Jisung and made him think there were twenty-nine days in November!”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all the fucking worst,” he mutters, his voice muffled.

You yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle into the centre of the room. “Thank you, thank you,” you say. “I’d like to thank Jisung for not knowing how to use Google.”

Seungmin points at you, snickering. “Genius wasted on him,” he says, shaking his head. “Poor girl.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, sitting up straighter in his beanbag chair. “You’re all supposed to be on my side.”

“No one’s on your side, dumbass,” Chan says. “You fucked up.”

You laugh softly, shuffling toward the kitchen, only for Chan to intercept you with a steaming mug of coffee. He hands it to you with a wink. “For our resident mastermind.”

“Bless you,” you murmur, taking the mug and sinking into the couch with a sigh. The warmth of the coffee soothes your raw throat, and you lean back into the cushions, your body finally beginning to relax.

Felix sprawls on the floor, his head propped up on a throw pillow. “Honestly? Totally worth it,” he says, grinning. “The three hours of sex noises were a lot, but watching Jisung implode this morning made up for it.”

Jisung points an accusing finger at him, his cheeks red. “You lost to porn ads! You don’t get to talk!”

Felix raises a brow, unbothered. “At least I know how many days are in November, dumbass.”

Minho cackles, leaning forward to slap his knee. “Felix, I’m the one who fucked with your algorithm. Those ‘hot MILFs in your area’ ads? All me.”

Felix’s jaw drops. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You’re welcome,” Minho replies smugly. He turns his attention to Chan, smirking. “And you? Don’t act all superior. Your girlfriend took you out.”

Chan shrugs, completely unbothered. “She was wearing black lace. I'm just a man”

Minho dissolves into laughter, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. He counts out four crisp hundred-dollar bills and tosses them into your lap. “Your cut, mastermind.”

You grin, holding up the money like a trophy. “I’d like to thank Jisung’s inability to resist crotchless panties for this award and his inability to read a calendar,” you announce, earning another round of cheers and whistles.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jisung mutters, sinking deeper into his beanbag chair. “You’re all fucking traitors.”

Changbin leans forward, squinting at the marks on your neck. “What the fuck did you do to her, man? She looks like she got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner.”

Jeongin reaches over, poking a particularly dark hickey on your collarbone. “Does it hurt?”

You swat his hand away, laughing. “Not as much as my legs.”

Jisung smirks, leaning back with a hint of smugness returning to his face. “What can I say? I’m thorough.”

Felix groans dramatically, snatching a cold compress from the coffee table and pressing it to your neck. “Jisung, she looks like she got mauled by a fucking tiger.”

“Nah,” Minho says, his grin sharp. “Just a man who thought he’d escaped No Nut November.”

Jisung glares at him but can’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips. “I hate you all,” he says, though his tone is lighter than it should be.

“And we love you,” Minho shoots back, raising his mug in a toast. “To Han Jisung’s sheer, unbridled stupidity.”

You clink your mug against his, laughing as the room erupts once more into cheers.

Jisung remains slouched in the beanbag chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His silver hair is still a mess, and his pout deepens with every new “evil genius” compliment directed at you. The teasing isn’t letting up, and Minho, grinning like he’s won the lottery, is the ringleader.

“I’m telling you,” Hyunjin says. “If Y/N ever decides to quit her major, she should go into professional scheming. She’s fucking wasted on Jisung.”

“Hey!” Jisung sits up in his beanbag, pointing an accusing finger at Hyunjin. His pout deepens, and his glare is somewhere between half-hearted and genuinely offended. “You’re supposed to be my friends, you assholes!”

Jeongin, sprawled out on the floor with a throw pillow under his head, snickers loudly, stretching his legs out. “We are your friends. That’s why we’re making fun of you.”

“You walked into this, man,” Felix says, his tone almost pitying. “You let your girlfriend outsmart you for four weeks straight. How the fuck are we not supposed to make fun of you?”

“Because I didn’t let her outsmart me!” Jisung fires back, his voice climbing an octave in his frustration. “I didn’t know—” He cuts himself off, realizing mid-sentence how dumb he sounds, and slumps back into the beanbag with a loud groan. “Oh, fuck you guys.”

Hyunjin snickers, flicking a stray lock of hair out of his face. “It’s okay, Ji,” he says mockingly, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. “We’re just impressed that Y/N did it so flawlessly. She’s like the fucking Ocean’s Eleven of frat house fuckery. She's wasted on you"

“She’s wasted on me?” Jisung retorts, sitting up straighter again. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend to even try something like that with.”

“Oh, burn,” Felix mutters, grinning as Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharpening.

“Not jealous,” Hyunjin counters smoothly, his tone calm and cutting. “I’m just saying, if Y/N ever wants to stage a hostile takeover of, like, the world? I’d be her first investor.”

Chan nods, barely hiding his grin. “Honestly, Ji? I think we’re all a little scared of her now.”

“You should be,” Minho chimes in, lounging on the opposite couch with his legs stretched out. He tilts his head toward you, his smirk full of pride. “She’s terrifying. And brilliant. A dangerous combo.”

You take a slow sip of your coffee, glancing around the room with a small, satisfied smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, my fucking god, stop inflating her ego!”

“Too late,” Jeongin says, laughing as he sits up. “It’s already huge. And honestly? Deserved.”

“Fucking traitors,” Jisung mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like a sulking child. His silver hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, and his pout deepens as the laughter around him refuses to die down. Zak nudges Jisung’s leg with a cold, wet nose, his tail wagging furiously.

Jisung glances down, his expression softening slightly. “What? You need to go out?” he asks, his tone still tinged with exasperation.

Zak doesn’t bark, but his answer comes in the form of a wide, excited circle, his little body vibrating with uncontainable energy. Unfortunately, that energy is paired with something far less charming. As Zak zips around the room, a trail of golden piss sprays in his wake.

“Zak!” Jisung yells, sitting bolt upright as the puppy makes another lap, oblivious to the chaos he’s leaving behind. “No! No, no, no, stop!”

The room erupts into absolute pandemonium. Seungmin doubles over, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Hyunjin falls off the arm of the couch. Felix has to grip the side of the couch for support as he gasps for air, his face red from laughing so hard.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin chokes out, his voice high-pitched and wheezing. “Look at him go!”

“It’s like Fast and Furious: Puppy Piss Drift,” Changbin howls, barely managing to get the words out before another fit of laughter overtakes him.

You bury your face in your hands, your body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to catch your breath. “Jisung,” you manage between gasps, “this is your problem.”

Jisung groans, his head falling back in defeat. “This is your dog!” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You clean this shit up!”

Felix, still leaning against the couch arm, grins like the Cheshire Cat. “The poor girl can barely walk because you railed her for three hours last night, Jisung. You break the vagina? You clean the dog piss.”

“Facts,” Minho chimes in, his grin wicked as he sprawls across the opposite couch. “Do your fucking job, loser. Clean it up, piss boy.”

Jisung glares at Minho, muttering curses under his breath as he drags himself out of the beanbag chair. “You’re all assholes,” he grumbles, stomping toward the kitchen. He yanks a roll of paper towels and a bottle of antibacterial spray from the counter before stomping back into the living room, his expression pure misery.

Meanwhile, Chan scoops Zak up, cradling the wriggling puppy against his chest. “Come on, little guy,” he says soothingly, heading toward the back door. “Let’s go outside where peeing doesn’t make everyone hate you.”

Zak licks Chan’s chin in response, his tail wagging like he’s just won a prize.

Jisung crouches down, surveying the damage with a look of sheer horror. “Oh my god,” he says, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. “It’s everywhere. It’s in the fucking floorboards!”

This sets everyone off again. Minho nearly slides off his seat entirely, clutching at the armrest as he howls with laughter. “Scrub faster, piss boy!” he shouts, pointing at Jisung like a ringleader at a circus.

“Don’t forget the corners!” Jeongin adds, his grin so wide it looks painful. “You missed a spot near the couch.”

Hyunjin wipes tears from his eyes, his face flushed as he sits up from where he collapsed on the floor. “Just use the mop on your head,” he says, smirking. “That shit you call hair has to be good for something.”

Jisung pauses mid-scrub to glare at Hyunjin, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fury. “I hate all of you,” he mutters darkly, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward despite himself.

“You’re not even scrubbing hard enough,” Felix teases, leaning forward with a grin. “Put some fucking elbow grease into it. Come on, show us that stamina from last night.”

“Fuck you, Felix,” Jisung snaps, though his voice cracks slightly as laughter bubbles up unbidden. He shakes his head, muttering as he sprays more cleaner onto the floor. “You’re all dead to me. Every last one of you.”

“Aw, poor Jisung,” Chan says as he walks back into the room, Zak now happily sniffing a chew toy. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a proper memorial after you die of shame.”

“You guys are lucky I’m still in this frat,” Jisung grumbles. “Otherwise, I’d burn this whole place down.”

Minho cackles, throwing an arm over Jeongin’s shoulder as he leans back. “You’d probably set yourself on fire in the process, piss boy.”

“You’re all dead to me,” Jisung mutters, spraying the floor with enough antibacterial cleaner to kill any and all germs within a ten-mile radius. He furiously scrubs at the puddle Zak left behind with a handful of paper towels, his movements sharp and exaggerated. “This is the worst fucking day of my life. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, deceived me, made me believe there were twenty-nine days in November, I lost No Nut November to Minho of all people, and now I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up my girlfriend’s dog’s piss. On my hands and knees, scrubbing up puppy piss. What the actual fuck.”

The room erupts into fresh laughter, Minho practically rolling off the couch as he gasps for air. Hyunjin leans back against the armrest, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Jisung groans dramatically, spraying more cleaner onto the floor.

“Fuck all of you. I don’t deserve this. I should be in bed. But no, here I am, cleaning up Zak’s liquid fucking shame while you assholes laugh at my misery.”

Despite the grumbling, his eyes keep drifting toward you. You’re curled up on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, wearing his oversized T-shirt like it’s made just for you. Your head is thrown back in laughter, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes crinkle at the corners every time Minho cracks another joke. The sound of your laugh fills the room, soft but bright, and something warm curls in Jisung’s chest, cutting through his annoyance.

He catches himself smiling, and it pisses him off even more, but not enough to stop. Each time he glances at you, his lips twitch upward, betraying the fondness he’s trying to keep under wraps. By the time he’s scrubbing at the last of the mess, his grumbles have turned into soft chuckles, and his scowl has softened into something undeniably warm.

“Jagiya,” he calls out, his voice carrying a teasing edge now, his earlier frustration melting away. “You’re lucky I fucking love you.”

You glance over, your smile widening as your eyes meet his. Mischief sparkles in your gaze, and you tilt your head. “Oh, I know,” you reply smoothly, your tone as smug as it is sweet.

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling under his breath as he scrubs at the final streak. “Fucking worth it,” he mutters to himself, his grin lingering as he watches you laugh again. You’re glowing, surrounded by the teasing chaos, and the sight makes his chest ache in the best way.

“I say we just blame Jisung,” Seungmin pipes up from the armchair, his face blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If the house ends up smelling like piss forever, we just say Jisung lost his shit. Like, literally. Pissed everywhere in a fit of frustration.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, slapping the couch cushion beside him. “Yeah, like Jisung got so sexually frustrated during No Nut November that he just snapped. Whipped out his dick and started pissing on the floor.”

The room descends into chaos again, the laughter deafening as Minho gasps, “Marking his territory! Alpha Phi’s new mascot, Piss Boy!”

Felix doubles over, choking on his laughter. “Someone get him a leash! He and Zak can take turns on the fire hydrant.”

Jisung glares at them, his ears burning red. “You’re all fucking insane,” he says, throwing a crumpled paper towel at Felix, who barely dodges it.

“No, no, they’re right,” Changbin says, his grin wicked. “We just tell people Jisung got overwhelmed by the smell of sex in the house and decided to add his own.”

“Marking his territory,” Hyunjin repeats, wheezing. “God, I can’t breathe.”

Jisung huffs, sitting back on his heels and tossing the last paper towel into the trash bag. “You guys are seriously deranged.”

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. “Says the guy who just spent twenty minutes on his hands and knees cleaning piss. You’re our leader now, Piss Boy.”

The laughter continues, but Jisung’s attention drifts back to you. You’re doubled over, laughing so hard you can’t even form words, tears shining in your eyes. Despite the relentless teasing and the sheer absurdity of the situation, Jisung feels that same warmth bloom in his chest.

He sighs, pushing himself to his feet and tossing the cleaner back onto the counter and to wash his hands in the kitchen. “You’re all still assholes,” he mutters, walking over to plop down on the couch next to you. His arm loops lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close.

You lean into him, still giggling as you look up at him. “But you love us.”

He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Some more than others.”

This was supposed to come out at the end of November but got delayed so here it is now <3

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[verinarin]

The mission and how it teaches him the slight difference between protectiveness and possessiveness

(Dr. Ratio x Partner Fem! Reader)

Part One (￣^￣)ゞ - Part Three ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

This would be a trilogy so expect one more part

This is mainly spicy fluff as I like to call it (fluff with sexual tension ψ(｀∇´)ψ) The sum of this fic is… let’s watch Ratio lose his marbles over Reader gambling her life yet again !

comment what do you think about this part, it sorta motivates me lolololol (*⁰▿⁰*)

Support me on Ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

If someone could be an embodiment of both the path of erudition and nihility it would be you, because he couldn’t fathom how a person could be so strategic yet so careless at the same time

Your eyes glimmers with vexatious enthusiasm as the dealer distributes the cards, he shouldn’t have agreed to meet with the potential client in a casino of all places

“Don’t fool yourself, think before anything else,” he leans beside your ear, trying to at least guide you to not do anything heedless

“Veritas Ratio, don’t you worry we’re not here to gamble,” you smile as you glance at your cards

He audibly sighs as he leans back, his arms folded as he see your opponent in front of you, a well known casino owner in Penacony someone so powerful that the IPC would want in their pocket

You’re tasked to invest in said casino, no matter what choices you have to make in the future, you need to report back with satisfactory results

That’s something you never cease to succeed in, doubling the profits. While he is here to assure your safety while doing so and the legality of your methods, while the casino owner over there ogles all over your body, how disgusting…

“I’m here to extend my sincerest gratitude for setting the meeting for today,” you extend your hand for a handshake towards the man seating before you, which is reciprocated but you can’t help but to feel a little bit distraught over the firm handshake

“Now now it’s not a big deal really, so what does the IPC wants from me hmm?,” the man chuckles, his eyes glaring at you, like a predator stalking its prey

Ratio took notice of this, the man exudes a strange aura that he can’t seem to pinpoint, leering at you while seemingly unaware of him currently seating beside you

“Ah a man that gets right to the point, I like that ! Ratio if you don’t mind,” with that he nods as he took a briefcase filled with a hefty amount of credits

“We’re here to invest in your casino sir, to further aid us in widening our connections and intel pool,” Ratio opens the briefcase to reveal its contents for the casino owner to see and he doesn’t seem to be interested at the slightest

You study his micro-expressions and quickly state that everything is negotiable if credits doesn’t suit his taste, he smiles before revealing his true desire

“Well now I’m a casino owner and I have plenty of investments under my name, I need no more credits in my life, but well what I do need is a beauty like you,” hearing this a gear starts to move on your head, your eyes glints underneath the yellow light

Ratio on the other hand can’t believe in such fool existing, worse yet breathing in front of him with such mediocre want, if his sharp gaze could be considered blades, then this man already have his neck severed seconds ago

“A lady like me have a high price tag y’know ?,” you let out a small snicker as you fold your arms, a sudden soreness blooms on your thigh you struggle to keep your smile as you glance down to see Ratio’s hand digging itself into your thigh

You glance up to see his expression, it’s screaming ‘foolish girl are you seriously going to do what I think you’re going to do’

You forgot that Mr. Veritas Ratio over here also has a PhD in reading you, he knows very well you’re going to gamble away your life yet again

The casino owner notice quickly of the tension between you both and so he cuts straight towards his price “I’m willing to let you invest in my casino for 40% profit if you win sweetheart, but if you lose then you’re going to stay and be my personal doll,”

Before Ratio could even open his mouth to disapprove these moronic terms, you’re quick to give your own terms

“Now now as I say before I’m quite the expensive asset, if you want me to be your pretty little doll then I’m afraid you’re going to gamble more,” you pout your soft lips at the casino owner, successfully riling up both him and Ratio at the same time

“With a cute face like that, you’re making me want to gamble my life away,” he boisterously laugh

“Then please do !, if you win you’ll have me but if you lose you’re going to sell this casino of yours and the payment would be the amount of credits that’s inside that briefcase,” you quickly reply

The man scoffs before dimming the cigarette he was smoking “What makes a pretty little thing like you so confident about winning ?,”

“Let’s just say I have a winning streak these past days, now what do you say sir ?,” well that’s true to some extent Ratio needs to applaud your constant stream of luck but that doesn’t justify whatever this is

“I love that feisty attitude of yours, so let’s gamble !,” the casino owner seemed to be riled up by your confident nature

While Ratio is currently questioning how does his life leads to being stuck in here between two gambling maniacs with questionable intellect, his cover his face back with his alabaster head, not wanting to interact with this monstrosity of a situation

“Great !, Ratio please draft us a contract immediately, I can’t wait to start,” you turn your head to the side to reveal Ratio glaring at you, with that look of disapproval emanating from his person, well you can’t see his expression but you definitely feel it, like mentally and physically feel his disappointment…

“Of course excuse us sir, while we compose a fair contract,” Ratio took off his alabaster head before excusing himself outside the private room, dragging you with him

Before you could protest however, he shoves you towards the wall and pins you in place with his arms caging you in, holding you captive for as long as he deems fit to scold you

With one of his arm on top of your head and the other holding you in place by your waist you could hear his uneven breathing pattern accompanied by his rather intoxicating scent “Did I not make myself clear earlier, think before executing your task !,” he whispers beside your ear, his tone deep and demanding

At this point you wish for him to yell at you instead as per usual because being close to him like this makes your brain melt, especially after that incident an hour ago.

‘What’s with the sexual tension !!!?!’, you silently scream as you try to come out with an excuse, but your brain has failed to do so because it’s currently overheating

He’s grown impatient with the silence you gave, he uses his hand to gently force your face to look at him, forcing you to stop ignoring him. “I-i umm if I win this gamble y’know how profitable it’ll be right ahahaha,” you nervously mumble, your sentence was a bit jumbled because of him unnecessarily squeezing your whole face

His eyes stares dead into yours before asking one more question with that deep silky smooth voice he used earlier, “What if you fail to win ?, it’ll be a tremendous lost for the IPC and you’ll be gifting away yourself in a silver platter to a fool who doesn’t deserve you, not even worth your time,”

‘ASDHDJFHKSK,’ is the inaudible sound that internally plays inside your brain as you feel his thumb caressing your bottom lip. I mean sure the IPC would suffer quite the loss for losing one of its high rank employee but not tremendous loss and what’s with the last statement?!?, you feel like Ratio is threading on a thin line between being protective and possessive

“I live by ‘audaces fortuna iuvat’ and I’ll stick with it till the rest of my life Ratio, so please believe in my ability to win or at least try to be supportive of me,” you sternly reply

There it is, the fiery passion reflecting in your eyes that he oddly founds to be attractive

Well this whole ordeal goes against his way to conduct negotiations and he doesn’t like to admit that the stakes are pretty tolerable considering the reward. As much as he hates to admit it, you do have an unparalleled ability to gamble your way out of situations; scarily reminds him of a peculiar person back at the office

“It seems that you’re certain with your decision, once I draft this contract and send it to headquarters there’s no turning back and I can’t assist you in anyway,” he sighs as he puts both of his hand on your shoulder, insinuating the high pressure of this gamble

You already feel the pressure by his mere presence, but you won’t back down not when you already manage to lure that casino owner into a shitty gamble

“Draft the contract, I assure you by the end of this I’ll be taking the Casino’s land certificate,” you smile, with that he can’t help but to take a deep breath and sigh, that’s it there’s no going back now

“You can’t afford to lose, this is your freedom we’re talking about and you’re not a damn trophy he could flaunt,” he huffs as he now retracts his hands away

“Relax, if I don’t know you any better I might mistake this as you feeling a little bit too possessive over me,” you jokingly punch his arm

However his reply is no joke at all “Maybe I am, who knows it’s open to interpretation, but do note that I can’t afford to lose you too,”

“W-what for what possible reason?!?,” this man has a tendency to really keep you on your edge doesn’t he ?

“I have my own reasons and agenda, that I will not disclose at least not when you’re gambling your freedom away,” he sighs as he massage his temples

“Fine have it your way mister I’m soo morally ambiguous!,” you huff as you walk back towards the door, however he grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards his embrace,

“May fortune bless the bold,” he mumbles against the crown of your hair, his arm loops around your shoulder as, holding you close against his chest as he inhales your calming scent for the last time, you took this weirdly affectionate Ratio as a good sign of luck !

Since he usually hit your head with that ridiculously heavy codex instead-

“Stop worrying about this, you know that the chances of me winning is higher than that guy !,” you mutter against his broad chest before pushing him away and turn your heels toward the door

With a huge smile on your face you open the door to reveal decks of cards and poker chips waiting for you “Let’s gamble shall we ?,”

[temis-de-leon]

Dateables as Single Fathers

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon, gn!kid, Luke and gn!MC

Part 1

Main Masterlist

CW: nothing, I think? Correct me if you feel something should be warned, but I think we're good to go. Just like in the other one, these HCs explain the characters' relationships with their kids and a romantic interest in MC at the end.

.

Diavolo

This one has to be the most difficult situation out of all, considering his political position.

He either had a child outside of marriage, who I think would’ve been considered a bastard, or he had the next heir with his wife, who would’ve eventually become the queen of the Devildom beside him.

No matter the option, each one would have had significant consequences.

Fortunately for his country, he’s too respectful and responsible to fool around and risk the chance of leaving his offspring behind, so political marriage it is.

I already used the ‘mother died in childbirth’ reason for Lucifer’s HCs, but I can’t see any other explanation for Diavolo being a single father. Both of them would be loyal and committed to their partners and Diavolo has the additional duty of keeping a kingdom going.

Now, we could do some AUs that could explain the future queen’s absence, but that isn’t what this post is about, so let’s leave it at that.

In the end, Diavolo is left with a child that is deeply loved and well taken care of.

I think Beautiful Boy by John Lennon would describe their relationship perfectly.

Loving his kid is not his only priority; raising him is also as important. He’s a caring parent, very attentive, protective and stern when necessary.

Diavolo is too aware of their duties as royals and future monarchs but tries not to act on them. Since he is already preparing himself to become king, there’s no need for his kid to lose their freedom and their childhood.

However, as occupied as he is, he tries to put his work on hold each time the child calls for his attention. They drew themselves with him and Barbatos? Okay, let him set these documents aside so he can admire the drawing properly. They saw a cool bug outside? Say no more, he needs a break anyway. They had a nightmare? Maybe they should have a sleepover!

The kid just needs to be careful not to do many of those things in front of Barbatos. Otherwise, the butler would chastise both.

He’s highly proud of them when they dive into a friendship with you; seeing their eagerness and comfortability around your presence as a sign for keeping the student exchange program going.

Still, he finds the need to have a somewhat serious conversation with them about you, your purpose in the Devildom and your status as a human; the imbalance in power and biology that makes you both so different.

As time passes and his own friendship with you deepens, so do his feelings. He isn’t obvious about it, or at least he tries, but his kid inherited his observation skills and soon innocent suggestive comments are trailing behind him everywhere he goes.

The situation amuses him and makes his heart flutter with enthusiasm.

With encouragement like this, how could he not try to pursue you?

Barbatos

I like to think there’s some kind of errand boy roaming around the castle. Not necessarily a boy, but still a child doing a little bit of everything and helping whoever gives an order. They’re quick and cheeky, making the staff cheerier and less stressed about their chores, and Barbatos finds them surprisingly charming.

He doesn’t mind them running between his legs as long as they know when to stop and don’t hinder his work and, unlike the little Ds, that turns out to be what happens.

Barbatos tries not to get attached at first and a long time passes until he can’t deny the affection he feels for the little devil.

When I say long, I mean long.

Decades, even a couple of centuries, unable to ignore the lack of parental presence in the child’s life. They’re always in the castle, going from one point to another, talking to everyone and sticking to no one. The few moments they have to rest are spent with the prince’s butler, talking about their day with breathless excitement.

It’s a nice dynamic that Barbatos enjoys more and more with each passing day, but it isn’t until the rest of the staff informs him of every little thing the kid does that he finally realizes how deep he has fallen into the rabbit hole.

He is a father figure.

Again.

He isn’t complaining, not at all, but it still surprises him.

More time passes until he gathers the courage to ask Lord Diavolo for a room inside the castle for the child to sleep in. His cheeks are warm when he specifies he’d prefer if the room were close to his and the embarrassment only grows when the prince laughs out loud with excitement.

By the time you are introduced as the second human exchange student, everyone treats the kid as Barbatos’s and they even call him ‘father’ when they’re alone. Neither are ashamed of their mutual affection, but they’d rather keep it private.

The child likes to tease you harmlessly, joking around, asking pertinent questions under the disguise of childish innocence and appearing out of nowhere when you least expect it.

They won’t mind if you lightly reprimand them for their constant playful behaviour, that’s what their father does after all, but they’ll quickly love you if you joke back.

Either way, he likes to follow you around and Barbatos instantly notices. It piques his curiosity and warms his heart, but with how highly the child talks about you and how much you captivate him on your own, he starts to wonder if he should’ve pulled the kid away from you since the beginning.

His strong feelings for you are foreign, but not unwelcomed. He’s just too vigilant of all the possible outcomes.

Fortunately for you, for every doubt Barbatos has about these feelings, the child has a dozen reasons to make them stronger.

Solomon

How many wives did King Solomon have again? How many concubines? How many children out of all of those partners?

I’m not saying that any of those children succeeded in achieving immortality like him, I doubt that could’ve happened so early in his life, but outliving human partners doesn’t mean that Solomon chose to refuse to have any more partners at all.

I can see him entering a relationship with someone who has a longer lifespan and, regardless of that arrangement being casual or committed, having a child with them.

Maybe the other parent passed away, maybe they didn’t want to be in a relationship, maybe they tried and failed to stay together… who knows, you can choose your favourite. The conclusion here is that Solomon kept the child and raised them alone.

Feral child vibes, I fear.

As devious as their father and completely oblivious to it, they are too curious for their own good. Exploration and experimentation through trial and error are fairly common practices in the family and the only reason Solomon isn’t worried is because he’s sure nothing wrong will happen as long as he is there.

The kid may appear at the front door of their house with an eldritch horror-looking creature and Solomon would be like: ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’.

He knows introducing his child to a human infant is not the best of ideas. They would have to move places constantly due to their slow ageing to not raise suspicion and that would be completely unfair to the kid. They’re allowed to have permanent friends their age, after all, not a playmate turned into a babysitter or faceless companions that would disappear in their memories over time.

So they mostly engage with other immortal beings, like witches, demons and fellow sorcerers.

That saddens Solomon in a way; the human part he passed to his child is slowly dying due to lack of interaction.

This is why the human exchange program Diavolo proposes is so interesting to him.

Not only is he going to meet one of his kind in a world he easily moves around, but his child is also going to get the opportunity to be with another human in an environment they feel comfortable in.

It goes as well as you could expect.

Both of them are curious and eager to meet you, but at the beginning of your friendship it feels more like academic research. You stick to the brothers and their antics and they stick to the angels and their kindness.

If Luke is a Chihuahua, then Solomon’s kid is a thirteen-year-old delirious Yorkie.

As time passes and your friendship develops into something more genuine, Solomon can’t help but feel like he’s finally breathing fresh air after being locked in a cave for years.

His child still explores their surroundings, but there’s a new hope in their actions that he knows doesn’t come from him. It’s true childlike wonder and care towards their subject of study. An appreciation of life only a mortal would express.

You don’t understand how much you changed his child’s life.

And you don’t understand how much he loves you for it.

Simeon

I mean.

Luke.

He already is a single father in canon.

I don’t know how angels are born in the game, but they do grow up. Maybe Luke just spawned and was put under Simeon’s direct care, but there isn’t any mention of other parental figures in Luke’s life back in the Celestial Realm (although that may be due to the game being lazy with lore).

We know Michael is Luke’s hero, but not a father figure, so Simeon as a single father makes total sense.

A single mom who works two jobs and loves her kids and never stops.

Jk, jk…

But for real, though.

Simeon is thoughtful, affectionate, careful with Luke’s emotions and conscious about his need to mature and grow up. He treats him like a child, because that’s what he is, but tries not to infantilize him to not hurt his dignity.

While proud of Luke’s morals and golden heart, Simeon wants to make him see not everything is black and white and he’s allowed to have opinions that can differ from what they’ve been taught.

Some demons are good, some humans are consciously devious and some angels need to reevaluate their priorities.

It is a difficult task since Luke is certainly stubborn, but spending time in the Devildom is the perfect opportunity to prove that point.

Thankfully, your presence only helps Simeon change Luke’s judgemental thoughts. You are patient, easy-going and lighthearted and don’t get too stressed when the young angel refuses to reject his views on demons.

They both enjoy spending time with you because your soul is still kind and free of punishment, but for Simeon is much more than that.

He enjoys being with you because it feels natural and because knowing you feels like the greatest gift he has received in a very long time.

Believe him, Luke’s praises about you have nothing to do with the love he has for you. Those are just an additional bonus.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[themdera]

“George Clarke replied to your story” Part 2

1,897 words. Green circle. Red Circle. what’s the difference?

Two hours. That’s how long it had been since George had sent his reply, and you’d left him on read. It wasn’t a power move, exactly—you just needed time to calm down and think through your next step without overanalysing.

The group chat had been buzzing nonstop during those two hours, alternating between hyping you up and begging for updates.

“What’s the plan, bestie?”

“If you wait too long, he might think you’re playing hard to get. Actually… maybe that’s good?”

“Don’t reply yet. Let him sweat a little.”

But now, two hours later, you decided it was time. Nothing flashy, nothing over the top—just enough to keep things casual.

You opened his message again: “Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you finally typed out a response:

“This was from last week, just thought it was cute.”

Short. Sweet. Unbothered. You hit send before you could overthink it, tossing your phone onto the bed like it might catch fire.

Almost immediately, the group chat went off:

“Did you reply? What did you say?!”

“I swear if you don’t update us—”

You hit record on a voice note.

“I finally replied,” you said, pacing your room. “Just told him it was from last week and I thought it was cute. Nothing dramatic, nothing flirty. Totally normal, right?”

Your phone buzzed, cutting you off mid-sentence.

GeorgeClarkey replied …

“Oh my God, he’s replied already.” You scrambled to grab your phone, barely breathing as his message came through.

“Fair enough. Let me know next time you’re in London—I’ll take you somewhere even better. 😉”

You froze. What.

You hit the group chat with a new voice note, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“GUYS. He said, ‘Let me know next time you’re in London—I’ll take you somewhere even better.’ WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!”

The chat exploded.

“It means he’s asking you out, you fool!”

“George Clarke is flirting with you, Girl. Just accept it.”

“Please tell me you’re going to reply to this.”

And now, staring at his message, your heart pounding, you realised they might actually be right. Before overthinking got the better of you, you flipped back to the group chat, sending a voice note in a rushed whisper.

“Guys. I’m gonna tell him. That I, in fact, live in London.”

The chat immediately blew up:

“DO IT.”

“YES. FULL SEND.”

“This is the rom-com moment we’ve been waiting for.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm as you typed out the reply:

“Funny you say that… I do live in London.”

For a second, you hesitated, wondering if this was too direct. But no—George had basically invited himself into your plans. The ball was firmly in his court now. You hit send, tossing your phone onto the bed and letting out a deep breath.

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

“Wait, seriously?”

A pause. Then:

“Okay, so no excuses next time. Drinks on me.”

Your jaw dropped. You grabbed your phone and sent another voice note to the group chat, your voice practically shaking.

“GUYS. He just said, ‘No excuses next time. Drinks on me.’ WHAT DO I DO?!”

The replies came flying in.

“You say YES.”

“You plan your outfit. That’s what you do.”

“Oh, he’s serious-serious. This man is INTO YOU.”

And as you stared at George’s message, a small, uncontrollable smile crept onto your face. Maybe this plan of yours had worked a little too well.

Feeling the growing weight of the situation, you opened the group chat again, needing their input more than ever. This was spiraling way beyond what you’d anticipated.

You typed out your message quickly:

“Girls, you guys are crazy. What do I reply without sounding weird? Like, I’d not mind meeting him, but do i really want to date him.”

You hit send and stared at your phone, the uneasiness settling in your chest. Sure, George was funny, charming, and, admittedly, good-looking—but the idea of this turning into something romantic felt… off. You just weren’t sure if that’s what you wanted.

The responses came flying in:

“Why not just keep it casual? You don’t have to date him to meet him.”

“Yeah, just treat it like meeting a friend. No pressure.”

“You’re overthinking it, bestie. Just go for the vibes.”

One of your friends sent a voice note, her tone more grounded.

“Honestly, just be upfront with yourself. If you’re cool with meeting him but don’t want it to get flirty, just keep the energy casual. No need to lead him on or overthink every reply. It’s not that deep!”

You sighed, nodding to yourself. They were right. It didn’t have to be that serious. You could meet George without it being a big deal.

Finally, you typed back to him:

“Haha, no excuses then! Sounds fun—let me know when you’ve got a place in mind.”

It was light, easy, and gave you some control over the situation. You hit send, feeling a little more at ease.

Of course, the group chat was already lighting up with speculation, but you ignored it this time. Now it was up to George—and you weren’t going to overthink it.

With your phone plugged into the speaker and your good vibe playlist filling the bathroom, you got to work cleaning. The rhythmic sound of scrubbing tiles and the faint hum of the music felt oddly satisfying. You were halfway through wiping down the sink when the unmistakable opening of Mastermind by Taylor Swift started to play.

You froze, the lyrics hitting differently this time:

“What if I told you none of it was accidental?”

You stood there, sponge in hand, staring at your reflection in the mirror as the words sank in. The song’s sly, self-aware tone felt a little too on the nose.

“And now you’re mine, it was all by design…”

Your mind instantly wandered back to George. The thirst trap, the close friends list, the café post, leaving his message on read—all of it.

You blinked. Was I… masterminding this whole thing?

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. No, that wasn’t it. None of this had been intentional—at least, not at first. But still… hadn’t you leaned into it just a little? Played along, maybe even enjoyed the attention more than you’d admit?

The song continued, wrapping you up in its sly energy, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the absurdity of it all. You shook your head, tossing the sponge back into the bucket.

“Alright, Taylor, you’ve got a point,” you muttered to yourself.

As the song faded, you finished up cleaning, feeling strangely lighter. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the clean bathroom. Or maybe it was the realization that, mastermind or not, you could handle whatever came next.

After all, it was just George Clarke—and maybe, just maybe, you had a little more control over the situation than you thought.

Just as you were toweling off your hands and admiring your freshly cleaned bathroom, your phone buzzed on the counter.

You glanced at the screen, heart skipping when you saw the notification.

GeorgeClarkey: “I’m free tomorrow if that works? Then you can answer in person if it was for me or not 😉”

You stared at the message, suddenly hyper-aware of Mastermind still softly playing in the background, like it was narrating your life.

“What the hell,” you whispered to yourself. George Clarke wasn’t just playing along anymore—he was setting up a full-on meeting.

Grabbing your phone, you rushed to the group chat, sending a frantic voice note.

“Guys. He just said he’s free tomorrow. And he said—wait for it—‘Then you can answer in person if it was for me or not.’ With a wink emoji! What do I even do?!”

The replies came in rapid-fire.

“You go, obviously.”

“Okay, but do you actually want to meet him?”

“Bestie, he’s giving you the greenest light I’ve ever seen.”

You took a deep breath, trying to sort through your own thoughts. Did you want to meet him? Honestly… you kind of did. Not for anything serious, but out of sheer curiosity. After all, how many times did someone like George Clarke invite you out for drinks?

Still, the uneasiness lingered. You typed another message to the group chat.

“Okay, but what do I even say without it sounding like a date? I’m not trying to lead him on.”

A reply came in almost instantly:

“Keep it casual. Something like, ‘Tomorrow works, but only if you’re buying the first round 😉’ or ‘Only if you don’t take this too seriously.’ You can set the tone.”

You nodded to yourself, feeling a little more grounded. After a deep breath, you opened George’s message and typed:

“Tomorrow works. But if we’re doing this, you’re buying the first round. No excuses.”

You hovered for a second, then added:

“Also, don’t get your hopes up—I’m still deciding if it was for you. 😉”

You had hit send before you could overthink it. You heart was racing. Whatever this was. it was happening.

The notification buzzed almost immediately:

GeorgeClarkey: “Burr & Co, Camden tomorrow 11am. I’ll see you there.”

You blinked at the screen, reading it again just to be sure.

Holy Fuck. He’d actually done it. George Clarke had set a time, a place, and was expecting to meet you. Not as a fan, not as part of some YouTube bit, but as… well, you weren’t sure exactly what this was.

You stared at the message, the reality sinking in. Tomorrow morning, you’d be sitting across from George Clarke at some café in Camden, trying to act like you weren’t completely overwhelmed by the situation.

Scrambling, you switched back to the group chat and hit record on a voice note.

“Girls. Holy shit. He picked a place—Burr & Co in Camden—and said, ‘I’ll see you there.’ Like, this is actually happening. What do I even do now?!”

The chat erupted into sheer panic.

“SHUT UP. IT’S HAPPENING.”

“Oh my God, what are you wearing?!”

“Please tell me you’re going. You HAVE to go.”

“Act chill but also make sure you look amazing. Casual slay.”

You sank onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as their messages poured in. What were you even supposed to wear? What were you supposed to say? This wasn’t some casual run-in with a friend; this was George Clarke, a guy with millions of followers, who somehow found you and your close friends list intriguing enough to want to meet in person.

Another voice note: “Okay, but what if it’s weird? Or awkward? Or, like, he thinks I’m someone totally different than I am?”

“Stop overthinking! Just be yourself!”

“You’re cool, you’re funny, and he clearly likes you already. Just vibe.”

“Bestie, you have NOTHING to lose.”

They were right. You didn’t have to be anyone but yourself. And whether this turned into a funny story or something else entirely, you couldn’t deny that you were curious.

With a deep breath, you typed a final message to the group chat:

“Alright. I’m going. But if this goes horribly wrong, you all owe me drinks.”

And with that, you set your phone down, your nerves and excitement battling it out as you tried to figure out what on Gods green earth you’d wear to meet George Clarke at Burr & Co tomorrow morning.

———-

a/n - There will be a part 3.

please let me know if you wanna be tagged in part 3

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Her sweet peach

Roronoa Zoro x reader. NSFW!

This fic is the second in a trilogy that also includes His fourth sword and Their shared bliss.

*****

Peaches have long been your favourite fruit, ever since you begged your mother to buy one every time you accompanied at the market, to eat on the way home; the juicy, sweet taste filling your senses is still one of your life's small pleasures, enough to elicit a smile even in your darkest days.

Which is why you have been so happy to discover that the small, peaceful island your crew has just docked at is a horticulture centre, the favourable climate allowing the growing of a great number of fruits among which bananas, apples, plums… and peaches. 

The sun is shining, you’re free to enjoy an afternoon of rest since you’ve spent the morning helping Franky patch up the damages the Sunny had suffered after your last battle, and you have visited the nearby village to buy a few of the largest peaches you have ever seen.

This is living, you happily think to yourself as, clad in your favourite bikini, you lie on a beach chair, your sunglasses protecting your eyes from the sun’s rays. You're the only one among your friends who has chosen to spend the afternoon sunbathing on the deck, while the others take care of the ship or find other ways to occupy their time, which is why you expect to remain alone…

… until the sound of heavy footsteps, and the familiar clink of metal touching skin -specifically, of swords in their sheaths gently bumping against the leg of the man who carries them- announces the arrival of the person you have been thinking about more and more often, and deeply, over the last few weeks. 

“Hey.”

“Hi, Zoro.” you answer happily as you take off your sunglasses to observe, and admire, the tall figure of the swordsman now standing near your chair “Finished your training for the day?”

He nods, sweat glistening on his chest and shoulders; naked to the waist he's even a more attractive sight than usual, which is saying something, especially for someone who, like you, has had two months to appreciate Zoro’s beauty up close. 

You propose to take another chair so that the two of you can sunbathe together, but Zoro shakes his head, and sits on a corner of your chair, content in your company just like you are in his. You share a smile, not bothering to speak to express what you’re both thinking about. 

“You bought something at the market?” he asks, noticing the brown paper bag placed on the deck near you, from which you are picking a new fruit to enjoy; at this rate you’ll spoil your appetite for dinner, but you’re confident Sanji will forgive you.

“I did! These peaches are really delicious. Do you want one?”

Zoro smiles, amused by your enthusiasm; he has taken advantage of the closeness to start caressing your calf, the touch of his calloused hand moving up and down your skin both gentle and possessive. “Let’s share one.”

You do, taking turns in biting into the soft, fuzzy surface, until only the central stone remains and juice has dampened your fingers. “Wasn’t it good? I’ll have to go buy some more before we sail, they’ll last longer if I keep them in the fridge…”

“It was really good.” Zoro admits “Of course, I know an even better one.”

“Sorry?”

“I know of a peach that is sweeter and juicier than any other - than any other thing, really. I’ve never tasted it, but I just know it is delicious.”

You blink, staring at Zoro’s completely serious, even solemn, expression as you struggle to comprehend the meaning of his words. “What are you talking about? The seller at the market assured me this is the sweetest sort among the many cultivated here on the island.”

“I’m not talking about a variety of fruit; it’s a single, very special peach.”

“I… I don’t understand…”

But you should, after two months spent fooling around, one going on dates every time your ship docked at a new island or town, and exactly thirty-one days after the one you got to taste Zoro’s fourth sword for the first time. Yes, all things considered you should have expected this would happen, and that Zoro would find a way to settle the score between the two of you.

But no matter how clueless you are, this is the sort of surprise you can’t help but appreciate.

“You want me to show you?”

“I… guess so…” you answer, still confused -how can a particularly sweet, single peach exist? Even if such a distinction made sense, one should have to eat the fruit to judge it- and you see Zoro grin, the satisfied glint in his eyes expressing that he managed to get you exactly where he wanted you to be.

“Right…”

He moves slowly, with the sinuous and deliberate grace of a panther approaching his prey, as he stretches over you, swinging a leg over the beach chair and then resting his hands on the sides of the backrest. Soon his face is close enough to yours you’re breathing the same air, and there’s something in Zoro’s eyes, and in his smile, that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Zoro…”

“Let me taste you.” he murmurs, and a moment later he has pressed his lips to yours. 

You kiss avidly for a couple of minutes, but when you raise your hands to touch Zoro’s hair and face, he gently but resolutely moves them away. “Let me.” he mumbles, and a moment later you can feel his tongue caressing yours; you let him, pleasantly dizzy, but a sudden noise coming from underdeck makes you jump. “Wait…”

“Shh…” he murmurs, as his mouth descends towards your neck; you feel him gently bite the soft skin. His right hand descends on your body to cup your bikini-covered breast, the pad of his thumb gently stimulating your already hard nipple through the fabric. 

A moan erupts from your throat. Oh, God…! “Zoro, we can’t…”

“I say we can.”

“But the others… we’re on the deck, anyone could see…”

The island’s little port is empty, but Luffy and the others are nearby, busy working on the ship or going about their own business but free to step on deck any moment, through a door that is only a few steps to your right. You and Zoro have kept your relationship secret until now, mostly because you both feel the matter only concerns the two of you rather that the whole crew, and while you have nothing against telling your friends, you want to do it while you’re all gathered around the dinner table, not being surprised while you and Zoro make out. You should stop, and take this to one of the cabins like you’ve done so many times over the last two months…

“Zoro, please… we are completely in the open…” you murmur, sounding less urgent and resolved than you wish you did; Zoro knows neck kisses are your weak spot, and he’s mercilessly exploiting that knowledge against you… who, in turn, are starting to think that maybe it’s alright to take a few minutes for yourself, since the chance of being caught is after all negligible if you make it quick. You moan softly, the sweet torture of Zoro’s lips, teeth and tongue eliciting goosebumps on your skin as his hand caresses your chest; if he carries on like this he’ll suck a lovebite on your neck, which will be a pain to hide, but you can manage, and since the deck is silent you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this for a minute more… only a minute more…

… and then Zoro’s hand quickly pulls your bikini bra down, exposing your chest.

You jump - literally. “Zoro…!”

“God, you look so good…” 

“Zoro, we can’t… what has gotten into you?” you hiss, bewildered; he grins in response, his gaze unashamedly revelling in the sight in front of him. “As I said, I’m going to show you the sweetest peach in the world.” he explains “And you did say I had to return the favour, right?”

“... what?”

“That day in my cabin. When you… took care of my fourth sword.”

Despite his position of power, Zoro can’t help blushing as he mentions the moment you shared a month ago; the memory elicits a smile on your lips, followed by a surge of panic once his intentions finally become clear.

“You… you want to do it now? Here?”

“Well, I am in your debt, aren’t I? You said it yourself.” Zoro points out, his eyes still trained on your chest; it’s a sight he already had the chance to admire several times, but the naked, unashamed desire in his gaze is no less intense, and you have to admit it, it doesn’t leave you indifferent. At all “And there’s no time like the present, like they say.”

“I know, but… we could go under deck, make sure no one sees us…”

“No one can see us now. Now let me take care of you…”

He’s not forcing you to do anything, you are well aware; you could easily fix your bra, stand and walk away, either holding Zoro’s hand to find a safer place somewhere on the ship or on your own, after telling him you don’t feel comfortable with what he’s proposing and you’d rather wait for a more appropriate occasion.

You could do it; despite his enormous strength and occasional lack of social graces, Zoro is not a brute and would never pressure you to anything you’re not comfortable with; you know, and you love him for it, and remembering that you don’t want to be caught by one or more of your friends while you and Zoro fool around, especially not if you really end up doing what he’s suggesting, is harder and harder with any passing second…

What he is suggesting. God, you can feel your heart pounding at the mere thought.

You don’t openly say go on, but Zoro must see he has overcome your objections, because he grins and licks his lips in anticipation, like a man who sees an excellent meal served at his table… with the sole difference that in this case the thing he’s going to eat -or to eat out, as it happens- is not the delicious food Sanji prepares for the crew every day, but you. 

He kisses you again, deep and firm and passionate, intense like most of what he does is; you share a look, and suddenly you are completely unable to speak.

“Scream if you want; I like it.” Zoro invites you, and a moment later he has lowered his face to your chest and captured your nipple between his lips.

You don’t scream. You moan, and pant, and are forced to press a hand to your lips, but you don’t scream, your voice literally caught in your throat as Zoro plays with your chest, kissing, biting, sucking as if today were the last day of his life. “You have amazing tits, you know?” he murmurs into your skin “I’ve thought about this; I’ve dreamt of seeing them bounce as you move above me.”

The image his words are evoking is enough to make your head spin. You have thought about it as well, plenty of times in fact, the growing intimacy between you and Zoro naturally leading you to imagine and look forward to the day you’ll finally take your relationship to the next level. The fact that he envisions it with you on top is more than a little titillating, but right now… right now all you can think about is Zoro making good on his promise, and you feeling the kisses he’s placing on your chest on an even more delicate part of your body. 

Moving cautiously, you slip a hand behind your back to unclasp your bra; Zoro allows you to take it off, and then smiles up at you, aware that he has completely silenced your protests. He moves to sit on the bottom edge of the beach chair in order to have both of his hands free, and unclasps his swords from his belt to delicately place them on the deck next to him. A moment later he’s bent over you once more, his hands squeezing your breasts as he rubs his face against them. 

You lift your -slightly trembling- hand to caress Zoro’s hair, and this time he lets you, smiling into your skin. “Relax now.” he murmurs, and then his kisses start descending down your abdomen, soft, delicate pecks that leave a trail of fire behind them, the movement agonizingly slow. Torn between the impulse of telling him to hurry up because you can’t wait and the desire to savour any moment like a piece of delicious fruit, you are holding your breath by the time he reaches the hem of your bikini panties, and then… Zoro stops.

He stops, and you can feel him hold his breath for a moment, which immediately transforms the unhappy surge of frustration in your chest into worry.

“Are you alright?” you murmur, propping yourself up on your elbow to meet Zoro’s gaze “You don’t have to do it, you know.”

“I do want to do it.” he assures you, unsure like you’ve never seen him “It’s just… I want this to be good for you; I don’t even know what I have to do.”

“You really don’t?”

“I mean… I know the theory; putting it in practice is a different matter.” 

You can’t help but smile. “Zoro… you need to stop considering this thing between us a test or something you need to prove yourself worthy of. Would you have gotten angry if I had seriously asked you to stop?”

“Of course not. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unsaid secrets and shames. You can feel heat pool in your belly, your body already screaming with anticipation for what Zoro has promised, but rather than hurrying him you sit up, so that you’re face to face.

“Just what?” you gently invite him “What is it that worries you so much?”

“I’m not worried! But I was thinking that…” Zoro rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he confesses: “That you might decide to do it with someone else. With Sanji, or with some guy you meet on some island we stop at. You know, someone who knows more about this than I do.”

“Zoro…”

“It’s stupid, I know; let me try, I’m sure I can do it…”

“Of course you can; and I wouldn’t mind either way.” you assure him, taking his face in your hands “Zoro… I like you. Very, very much, and I’m not going to stop being with you simply because… because of this, first of all because you could never disappoint me, and second because sex is only one of the many things of you I’m attracted to.”

You sigh, well aware that lust is no longer the only reason why you are blushing; it’s way too early for you and Zoro to be talking about feelings, which is something you feel difficult and embarrassing in the best of cases, but the last thing you want is for him to think he owes you or that you might start looking at other men because he doesn’t immediately become the perfect lover. The poor man is still a virgin, for God’s sake!

“Now would be a good moment to tell me you also really like me, Zoro.”

“Of-of course I like you. For more than sex, that is.”

“And you wouldn’t do what you do with me with any other woman?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you.” you say, and smile as you lie back down on the chair “Now go on; take your time and listen to your intuition. Your body knows what to do already, even if your mind doesn’t.”

Zoro nods, finally relieved, and gets to work. You can’t take your eyes off him as he bends to kiss your stomach once more, and then your thighs, and then finally the centre of your pleasure, his kiss slow, lingering and almost lazy, that opens in a new smile when Zoro feels you tremble, your body already reacting to his passion.

“Lift.” he orders, and you comply, allowing him to hook his thumbs around the side of your panties, and then slide them down your legs.

You are now completely bare, naked as the day you were born, visible to any of your friends who might decide to step on the deck for whatever reason. You don’t think you could survive the shame, but right now all you can think and care about is Zoro, once more looming over you, almost fascinated as he admires your nudity.

“You are beautiful.” he murmurs, almost reverent, and you smile as you spread your legs, just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your wet, warm folds. 

“This is all for you.” you murmur “Please, Zoro, I need you; I need to feel you…”

He groans. “Fuck, (name)...”

You help him get comfortable with your heels resting on his thighs while Zoro leans forward and wraps his arms around your thighs; you share a last smile, and a moment later he’s kissing you for the first time, the warm touch of his mouth sending a shiver of pleasure through your body. You tremble, his name leaving your lips in a whimper as his kisses multiply, sweet and worshipful, and a moment later you can feel his tongue on you, the slow, intense drag over your pubic hair sending a new jolt of pleasure through you. 

“You’re not… shaved.” Zoro murmurs, not breaking the contact so that you can feel his words reverberating against your skin.

“I’m not; is that… a problem?” you ask, a vein of uncertainty appearing in the sea of your pleasure; none of your previous partners complained, but you know Zoro shaves regularly, which might mean that he prefers his women equally hairless “I’m sorry, if you want I can…”

“It’s fine. No, I mean, it’s perfect.” he quickly reassures you; you can’t see his face from your position, but you can hear the smile in his voice “I like you the way you are.”

Those words, and the hidden meaning Zoro is perhaps slipping into them, touch you deeper than you expected them to. I like you as you are too, you’d like to say, and you’re about to, but then, as he keeps kissing your pubis to his heart’s content and his hands run up and down your thighs, Zoro’s tongue inadvertently brushes against your centre, the touch quick, almost absentminded, but enough to make you scream - a sudden, uncontrolled cry while Zoro is forced to quickly grab your legs once more to keep you still.

“Down, you…”

“Zoro, please…”

“Please what?” he asks, his handsome face suddenly peeking up between your legs; despite his lack of experience he knows you are at his mercy and is clearly proud of it “What do you want, (name)? Use your words.”

“You prat…” you mumble, but there’s no bite behind the insult, and you can’t help but smile “I know I told you to go slow, but…”

“... not too slow?”

“Exactly.”

“As you wish.” Zoro says, but nevertheless, when he dives back between your legs, it takes him a few more, agonizing minutes to actually reach the part of your body that desperately needs his attention. Completely naked under the sun, your muscles made tense by desire, you hold your breath, praying for a moment, just a moment of respite from the lust burning in your belly, but Zoro is determined to take his revenge for the sweet torture you inflicted on him four weeks ago, and by the time he finally takes pity on you you’re practically crying with desire, begging the swordsman to face-fuck you, now, otherwise you’ll lose your mind…

And Zoro finally does.

“Oh… you’re so wet…” he whispers, almost amazed; you can feel his voice vibrate against your clit, and your whole body has a new spasm.

“And whose fault is that?” you ask, or rather try to, because emotion has stuck your voice in your throat, and once again, you feel him grin. You whimper, because while you’ve always hated being manhandled as if you were an object, you can’t help feeling even more aroused now that Zoro is the one doing it; in a complete reversal of your positions a month ago, when you took care of his needs, he is now completely dominating you, your poor body completely at his mercy, surrendered and begging for a relief he could easily deny you.

Fortunately, he doesn’t.

“What a sweet little peach.” Zoro murmurs; he’s licking, almost lapping at your core with abandon, the completely lurid sound fueling your lust “You… taste so sweet… so juicy… hmm, (name), I want to lick you dry…”

The hand you have pressed to your mouth is not enough to stifle the symphony of moans, pants and cries Zoro’s tongue tears from your throat; he has taken your advice to let his instincts guide him to heart, and quickly learns how to give you pleasure without the need for further instruction. He is really treating your pussy as if it were a delicious fruit, savouring and tasting it, unashamedly pushing you to the brink as he holds your body close.

You can already feel pleasure mounting inside you, the lust only partially sated by his ministrations, and no matter how sweet it would be to just let go and find your relief, you want this to last, because, as you told Zoro that day in your cabin, the longer you’ll force yourself to resist, the more pleasant it will be once you finally come. 

You sigh his name, and a moment later, behind you, a door slams; Zoro tenses, and “No!” you cry “Don’t stop…”

He laughs. “Not so worried about being caught now, are we?”

“Not anymore, no.” you admit, by now beyond blushing “Rather, I-I have to admit… I wouldn’t mind that.”

Zoro groans. “Shit, (name)…”

Being seen right now, in the state you are, Zoro eating you out as if his life depended on it, one of your friends - no, the whole crew witnessing such an intimate moment… the mere thought makes you tremble, and not in fear and shame. You arch your back, pressing yourself against Zoro, as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. 

“More.” you urge him, your voice reduced to a growl. You have lost all control of yourself and you are proud, rather than embarrassed, of it; proud, and grateful, for the sweet, generous man who is giving everything he has to gift you a moment you will remember forever “Zoro, I want - I need more. Make me come. Darling, make me scream.”

Another groan - raw, deep, visceral, almost animalistic, as if the one taking care of your pleasure weren’t a clever, steadfast young man but an animal, a savage beast forced to an enormous strain in order to maintain at least a modicum of control as he ravishes you, just a step away from losing control, from giving in to his basest instincts to own you…

And then he stops again.

Light-headed as you are, it takes you a moment to realise it, to feel the absence of Zoro’s kisses on your core, and then you frown, disappointed but not worried, thinking that maybe he just needed a moment to catch his breath or clean his face.

But then the seconds pass, and nothing happens; Zoro is still holding you by the legs, unmoving, his face still inches away while the tide inside you stills, unable to mount to its release. You are painfully, desperately stretched, muscles tense towards a liberatory reward the man in front of you could easily give but that you can’t reach without him; still lying, you roll your hips, hoping to cover the brief distance between you, but you can’t, Zoro’s hands still keeping you in place.

You lift yourself on your elbow, finally meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you ask, hoping to sound less frustrated than you are. You are almost there, dammit!

“Yeah, I’m good. I was just thinking…”

Zoro bites his lip; he’d have any reason to feel smug, but suddenly uncertainty is colouring his face. You can see traces of your fluid on his lips, a sight that has your hips spasm.

His mouth is no longer enough, you decide on that moment, no matter how sweet and passionate his kisses. You need more, more of him, all of him, body and heart and soul, like you need to give him yours - and you will soon, you are pretty confident Zoro would be glad to agree, but now you just need a minute more… you need to come, you need it desperately, otherwise you don’t know what will become of you…

“... are we a thing now?”

“... what?!”

“You said you don’t want to do this with anyone but me, and I don’t want anyone but you either.” Zoro reminds you; he’s focused on your conversation but otherwise perfectly calm and in control, as if he couldn’t care less about the poor, needy woman lying in front of him, out of her mind with lust and desperately needing to be fucked “Does this mean we are a couple? You know, since we’re exclusive… and we’ve been seeing each other for a while…”

“...”

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want… or if you need to think about it…”

“It’s not that.” you reassure him, amused despite your exasperation “You could have found a better moment to discuss it, that’s all; one doesn’t normally stop to talk while they’re in the middle of this. Zoro, I feel like I’m going to burst.”

“Oh! Uhm…” Zoro blinks, sincerely taken aback “Sorry, I didn’t think… I’ll finish now…”

“That would be nice, thank you. And Zoro?”

“Yes?”

You smile; you can’t help it. “And I’d love for us to be a couple.”

“... really?”

“Of course. The exclusive sort, of course.”

Zoro bites his lip, as if suddenly aware of his lack of timing and of the absurdity of the situation, but then he smiles, his eyes expressing all the joy he’s unable to voice. “That’s… good.”

“Very good, yes. Now would you mind making me come?”

Zoro hurries to nod, and then his face disappears between your legs once more; his new attack is immediately fiery, relentless even, as he quickly picks up the pace he had built until a moment ago, as if determined to make up for lost time. Relief fills you as your body finally finds the escape it was craving for; it feels like holding your breath for hours and then filling your lungs with clean, fresh air.

“I-I’m close.” you stammer, once more close to your breaking point; it’s never been like this for you, so intense, sweet and devoted despite its ardor, as if Zoro were channelling all his strength and his indomitable will, not against a foe or to fight for his life, but to give you pleasure, and to be a good partner for you “I’m almost… Zoro…”

He doesn’t answer, but he moans, and then does something so indescribably lurid with his tongue, that it pushes you over the brink; the tether inside you snaps, and then you’re coming, Zoro’s hands keeping you still as he eats you out, ravenous, passionate, hungry for you, for your sweet peach, angry and jealous enough he wants it, and you, all to himself.

You’ve got nothing against that, and you vow to make sure he knows it soon; your scream of pure pleasure fills the air as your body trembles, your nails digging into the flesh of Zoro’s shoulders keeping you from being swept away. 

Your orgasm is long, intense and absolutely sublime; he guides you through it, prolonging your pleasure as much as he can and then gently lowering your legs to the chair as you try to catch your breath. He places a last, sweet kiss on your belly and then stands -carefully; his legs look a bit wobbly- to come kneel again by your side.

“Are you alright?”

For a full minute all you can do is nod, and smile broadly. “I’m fine. And it was amazing, Zoro; thank you.”

“A-are you sure? I wasn’t sure… and then I stopped, like an idiot…”

You silence him with a finger to his lips; then you change your mind, and do it with your mouth, feeling pleasantly numb and yet wanting more. More of this; more of him. “It was perfect; you clearly are naturally talented in more than just swordsmanship.” you reassure him “Was it nice for you?”

“Very. I… I can't wait to do it again.” 

“And we will. And tonight we can look at the stars in the crow’s nest.”

“Sounds nice. We can drink the sakè we bought on the last island.”

It's nothing you haven’t done a thousand times already, but a large smile blossoms on your lips. “Yeah, fine.”

Zoro grins. He's been doing it more and more often recently, at least while the two of you are together; you had never noticed how lovely his smiles can be. “As I thought, you taste better than any peach in the world.”

“Well, thank you…”

You should probably cover yourself, since you're still naked and in plain sight, but you don't, and you don't care. Zoro rests his forehead against yours, and for a minute you remain still, enjoying the intimacy of a shared breath.

“So… it's official.” you comment after a while, feeling… not exactly shy, but a little trepidant “You're still in time to change your mind.”

“Why should I? I asked you, after all.”

“I know, but…”

“But nothing; I, err, don't really know what it means to be a b-boyfriend, but I promise I'll do my best.”

“Your best is enough.” you reassure him, and smile “And if not, once again, I can teach you.”

Zoro frowns. “Can you? How many other boyfriends have you had?”

“That's not what I meant, you dummy…”

You share a smile, laughing softly as your lips meet in the middle. 

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 6

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 6 - Restart

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.9k

AO3

Chapter 5

You walk into Quantico with a new sense of purpose after having drinks with Prentiss last night. The barrier that the section chief had built up with assumptions and unknowns had been removed and replaced with cautious optimism. That you can work with – a mutual understanding that you’re both on the same side, you meant no harm and were not a threat to the BAU. As it was a workday, you only shared another drink together but the two of you nursed them slowly.

As you still couldn’t say much about your past, you did elaborate on the high-speed pursuit that Tara hinted at.

“Yeah, so it all worked out. Dumb ass fell right into the spike strips. Took care of that quick once I got ‘em there,” you explain before taking another swallow of beer.

“They never learn.” Prentiss smiles and takes a sip as well. “But keeping pace with them was something else. No wonder they panicked.”

You smile. “Yep! Intel was good that they weren’t carrying much. They fired off a few rounds here and there to scare us off. Try and get me to fall back. They just never got the memo that the CIA Surveillance and Pursuit class was renamed cuz of me.” You raise your beer and wink at Prentiss. “Now affectionately known as the Maniac Chase Class.”

“Oh my god! That was you?” She laughs, shaking her head in amazement.

“Yeah. I gotta wee bit carried away on my third try.” You shrug coyly. “Really wanted to beat that record.”

“You demolished it.” She smirks. “And the car.”

“Which slid across the line for a new record,” you explain with pride and then pause for dramatic effect, holding your arms out, beer still in hand, “And … I walked away without a single injury.”

“See, that part I thought was all hype,” Emily admits and looks inquisitive.

“No, sadly. It helped I was young and dumb when I did it.” You say with introspective embarrassment. “I was so fucking stupid.”

She snorts with agreement while doing mental math. “Wait, how old were you when he recruited you?”

“Young,” you vaguely admit.

“But you joined before me,” she says, knowing you were aware of her records and nod that she was correct. “I joined late ’97 and everyone just naturally talked about the course like that.” You heard the implication. She meant that the nickname wasn’t a new idea and was trying to figure out how much longer you have been in the CIA before she joined.

You clear your throat in caution. “Leave it alone, Prentiss. I … I honestly can’t say anything more.” You grimace, knowing you already said too much.

Emily didn’t press for further information, but you knew she gleaned enough to make educated assumptions. You felt like a fool, letting your guard down like that, but the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. It felt … nice, being able to connect with someone new. That hadn’t happened since Rebecca.

You’ll need to keep your guard up since Prentiss reaffirmed that you would be a proper member of the BAU starting today. They would want to get to know you, and you them. You just have to remember to tone it down and not get carried away with enthusiasm. Keep Brian’s wisdom close to your heart that this is new to you and ground yourself. Don’t get swept away with emotions, like last night.

It was a late start at Quantico for you since you had to start at Langley. The stipend funds had been approved and your signature was needed on a lot of paperwork. Finance assured you that the money would be deposited into the BAU budget by the end of day. Prentiss would be able give Bailey the proverbial finger on Monday when she distributed the funds, pushing the unit into the green, leaving the penny pincher helpless with his mission to disband the BAU that way.

Prentiss had texted you that the team would be ready for you in the conference room discussing their current caseloads and leads and would wait for you, providing you that proper do over with them. You appreciated that and said as such in reply.

As you head off the elevator to the sixth floor, you felt a renewed sense of purpose and belonging. You even put a little more effort into your outfit, choosing a charcoal grey pants suit with a black sleeveless semi-spread polo collar, and comfy black work shoes with decent tread. You had your backpack on, holding the straps over your chest as you survey the area.

True to her word, the team was already in the conference room. Garcia happens to see you first and smiles big, giving you a quick, animated wave that caught Prentiss’ attention. She was standing and angles her body to the left to see who was there and visibly relaxes noticing it was you. The team follows her gaze as Prentiss gestures for you to join them.

JJ looks from Prentiss to Rossi, who was suspiciously smirking up at Emily. “And why are you smiley this morning?”

“Hm?” he looks over at her as Prentiss’ attention turns towards the exchange. “Oh, just delighted Whitlock can join us. Orientation’s a pain in the ass.”

He was equally relieved and surprised that Emily spoke to you as quickly as she did. Because of that, he wouldn’t press the orientation fib being told to the team.

“Man, I wish I had the short version like she did when I joined,” Luke grumbles playfully.

“Yeah, but you needed a lot of work honey, and honestly … still do, unlike our CIA cutie,” Garcia chides as you walk in.

“That my new rank?” you say with twinkling eyes and a brow raising to the group. “CIA cutie?”

The members collectively chuckle and laugh at the joke and as you look at Prentiss, she was fighting to keep her lips from curling upwards.

“No. Still a consultant.” Prentiss admits. She gestures to an empty seat between Tara and Garcia. “Please have a seat and we’ll get started.”

You nod and slip past Prentiss, sliding the backpack off your shoulders. You place it on the ground behind your chair and sit down. As you look at the BAU members starting back at you, you feel daunted. But you got this and look eagerly at Prentiss to kick this off.

“I know things have been hectic this week with all the changes and assignments and getting Whitlock up to speed on FBI protocols. She still has a few more items to go over, but I’m pulling her in since we can use all the help we can get,” Prentiss explains. “Garcia, mind getting Whitlock up to speed where we’re at?

Garcia immediately speaks up, almost bouncing on the seat at the chance. “You got it, Ma’am.”

Emily winces and presses her hand down towards Garcia. “What have I said about that?”

She smiles. “Not to call you Ma’am.”

“Please remember that.”

“You got it, Boss Ma’am.” Garcia says cheekily.

Emily sits down in a huff, and you have to cover your mouth to hide the smile on your face. The team did not hide their amusement at the banter.

“Anyway,” Garcia says and laces her fingers together before turning her hands inside out to crack them, “time for catch up!”

Her fingers dance across the keyboard and immediately your eyes go to screen depicting a U.S. map with sixteen dots. Each dot had a line that led to a description of the kill kit number, contents and the city and state of its location. Two of the dots are red, the others blue.

“We have recovered fourteen of the sixteen kill kits, no thanks to our firebug in holding right now. The two missing are from Indio, CA and Rockville, MD and your technological goddess is monitoring anything in the surrounding areas that sounds Sicariusy like.”

“How wide’s the radius?” you ask.

“Fifty,” she answers while you nod. “So far nothing’s pinged that shouts out, ‘I’m a Sicarius henchmen’. However, Mr. Dishonorably Discharged had a test kit that was really oooooold based on soil samples.”

“Five years isn’t that old,” JJ says.

“But the kits being activated by Sicarius, it is,” explains Rossi. “All the lockers we’ve found have new tech, supplies, chemicals …”

“Lab did confirm the soil samples from our kits are newer. So why give Green something older?” Prentiss asks the team.

“Maybe this one fit Green’s M.O. better?” Luke offers.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” says Rossi.

“What are you thinking, Dave?” urges Prentiss.

“That Green was set up?” you offer, looking between Prentiss and Rossi.

He half smiles, impressed, and points to you casually. “Kid’s good. That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe he was testing Green to see what he’d do. Confirm if he was truly loyal or not.”

“And either way, Sicarius would get what he wanted. A big explosion or expose Green for who he really is,” JJ says emphatically. “

“All right.” Prentiss takes a moment to digest this and addresses everyone. “Give me some options.”

Luke leans back and gestures to Garcia. “Green was the last to see his sister. So, we’re thinking a cognitive interview might help him remember any details of that night. Anything that could help him ID the guy that took her.”

“Good luck trying to get him to agree to it,” states Tara. “He has big problems with authority figures. He won’t cooperate unless he has good reason.”

“How’s not finding his sister’s killer a good reason?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s really pissed off.” Prentiss says as you raise a brow. “We took away his chance at catching Sicarius and enacting his revenge.”

“And he really doesn’t like that I’m a Fed again.” Garcia pouts with that admission. “He sent me all that info thinking I was still distanced from all of this.” She gestures wildly at the room.

Prentiss looks sympathetic. “But we have to try. Luke, I need you to talk to Green and get him to agree to the cognitive interview. JJ, keep watch on the exchange.” They both nod and she addresses Garcia. “Keep working on any leads that might help us find those missing kill kits. Whitlock, you’ll assist.”

You visibly perk up at the sound of your name and look thankful for a hands-on opportunity. Inwardly, you were doing backflips. Prentiss could feel you buzzing with internal excitement and chuckles. “Not like you can catch up on any paperwork you don’t have yet.”

Rossi and Tara groan while Luke and JJ share a smirk.

“Oh, don’t even,” admonishes Prentiss. “You both get to play catch up in between interviewing Green until a case comes in.”

Luke is silent, lowering his head in defeat as JJ frowns while pouting. “Aww.”

Now that the team had their assignments, Garcia was utterly giddy and squeals towards you. “Come Robin! To the Batcave!”

Garcia catches you up on everything over the next few hours. From the hidden message apps on the unsubs phones, to the discussion forums, and how Sicarius used this to gain followers so he could teach them the ways of being sadistic killers. She had identified the usernames of the unsubs and was able to find that they all chatted with Sicarius - User45125. They also learned about the different murder methods that matched up with the bodies found in the shipping container. Out of the lockers that are missing, the BAU believes that kits would contain methods to kill by acid and strangulation to match the last of the victims.

“I can’t trace any direct messaging, so that’s why all of this is based on the forum info me and JJ combed through,” Garcia says, ending her lengthy summation.

“What a sick fuck.” You shake your head in disgust. “Play with the first round of victims and pass all that fun on to his new friends who do it all over again.”

You were sitting to the left of Garcia, lightly turning the chair back and forth with a foot on the floor. To your delight, it didn’t bother her. It was a habit you developed over time to help you think. You look over the conversations that Sicarius had with the unsubs and Green. He definitely narrowed down the chosen ones based on their psychopathic thrills.

“How many are on this message board again?” you ask, gesturing at the screens.

“Over half a million. Which just…bleh!” Garcia pauses, shivering for dramatic effect, “Makes me feel all squicky that there are that many of them chatting in one spot. But I narrowed down the really, really, bad naughties to seventeen k.”

“Damn. Fucker’s been busy.” You go silent as you calculate options with the information the BAU had.

Garcia glances at you, seeing your eyes darting back and forth in concentration. “What’cha thinking there?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just … “ you pause, words softening, “a half formed thought. A possibility.” You turn towards Garcia. “Can you narrow the users further by who hasn’t been active in a few months? At least since Green last contacted Sicarius? Bonus if longer.”

She blinks rapidly at you and looks put out. “Can I?!” She then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Since you’re new, I will let that slight pass, but there is nothing I can’t do, missy.”

Except get your file, but you don’t need to know that!

“Apologies, M’Lady!” You smile, making sure to file that away to not offend the bubbly woman in the future. “If you would be so kind and continue working your magic?”

“And the lady shall be kind!” Garcia says with vigor and starts narrowing down the possibilities further.

The two of you work diligently over the next few hours. You guide Garcia with different traits to knock down the users into something manageable with the information that can be extracted from text. Emoji use, shorten expressions, length of posts, seeking knowledge and showboating instead of trying to engage in an emotional connection, aggressive language use, and interests.

“Here you go.” Garcia calls up a list of usernames that fit your specifications. “One-hundred and thirty-four.”

“Have any of those spoke to our guy at length? Something substantial?”

“Hm, yes!” She pulls those up.

That got you down to thirty-eight. “And how many of those appear to have contacted him through direct messaging?” You couldn’t know for sure but based on the flow of conversation and quality, there were hints.

She types quickly. “Ah, fourteen.” She shows you the names.

“List them by last known contact with him – earliest to latest.”

“Done.”

“Now pull up last few messages from each.”

“Also done.”

You read through them, ignoring the majority as you skim but there were a few that stood out.

Dark_Muse: Fucking cunt is finally gonna pay!!! Girls night is gonna end on a high!!!

_piouspisces: Woke up from a dream today. Hope it comes true. Just have to set up the right ingredients. Need advice on lacing paper. I have some ideas but need confirmation.

FlamePit23: The world only makes sense at sunrise and sunset. It’s when it looks like the world is set on fire. Beautiful.

You point to that last username. “Show me this one’s profile.”

Garcia clicks on it and reads. “’Nothing burns as bright as the rage inside you. Cultivate and embrace it. Keep it under your control’. Oh, they go on to say to never make any friends. That’s cheerful and lonely.”

“But they admitted to ‘nurturing others so I can take them off guard. Like my mother did to me when I was younger’ makes me think this one’s female,” you say while tapping the screen. “What’s the date and timestamp on the last message?”

“That would be … August 12, 2022 0550.”

You would bet that it was close to sunrise on that day when the user posted.

You pull your hand back to cup your chin in thought as Garcia looks oddly at you. “You know, I’ve been doing this a really, really long time, and I can usually predict where people are going with their data mining. But you? I have zilch of an idea because this makes no sense to me.”

You heard she was talking, but you weren’t listening. You were too focused on formulating a plan.

She puckers her lips in annoyance at being ignored and snaps her fingers twice in front of your face. “Hello?”

“Oh!” you say, jerking back into awareness. “I’m trying to come up with a crazy plan.”

“Please tell me this won’t result in you going AWOL again …” Prentiss had entered and neither of them had heard the door open.

You and Garcia share a look wondering if she even knocked as Prentiss walks in further expectantly. “Well?”

You sit back and reassure her. “Ah, no. Course not.”

“Wait. So, you really went AWOL?” Garcia asks curiously. “Did you serve before the CIA?”

“I didn’t serve.” You bit your lower lip and nod, coming to terms with what you can say. “I did some training with military personnel. All informal.”

You and the other four recruits had gone through training with the Green Berets, Navy Seals, and Delta Force. Something you couldn’t disclose as it technically never happened, hence, the informal part of your cover. You also are glad Garcia was distracted by that and didn’t ask you to elaborate on the AWOL matter.

Garcia whistles. “Wowzer.”

That made you smile. “A very simple, yet precise, way to put it.”

“A talent of hers for sure. But let’s get back to this crazy plan of yours,” insists Prentiss as she leans against the desk on the other side of Garcia.

“Again, it’s just the start of one but it could be a way to infiltrate Sicarius’ chosen ones without the need for vengeance to fuck things up.”

“You really say that word a lot,” notices Garcia.

“What?”

Garcia struggles by opening and closing her mouth like a fish to try and get the word out, but Prentiss beats her to it. “Fuck.”

“Huh?” You look at the section chief with confusion. “No thank you?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” She answers, speaking quickly as you fluster her with the insinuation, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

“What’s so funny?” she snaps.

“You!” you answer between cackles. “I knew what you meant.”

Garcia at least has the decency to look away while trying to fight off her own snickers as Prentiss takes a hand to her head to rub at her temples. “I swear to god, Whitlock …”

“Anyway …” you grin. “The idea is to chat him up with a username that is not entirely inactive but hasn’t been used in a bit. Think we found a prospect.”

Prentiss’ irritation with you changes to interest. “That so?”

Garcia nods. “Now that I know what the plan is, yes. I can do a deeper dive into this user and see what I can dig up.”

“Less is more, in this case,” you explain thoughtfully. “If we infiltrate this way, we gotta have enough info to be this user without him really knowing who this is. So, if you can find who they are, then we’re back to finding another. Because that means he would know their identity, too.”

Prentiss nods. “Do it. Green isn’t cooperating at all like Tara figured. He wouldn’t agree to the cognitive interview. Might as well see how this pans out while JJ tries to change Green’s mind.”

“On it, Boss Ma’am!” Garcia jests as she gets to work.

Prentiss looks up at the ceiling as if searching for patience, but as brown eyes come down, they focus on you. “Come with me and bring your stuff.”

“Sure thing.” You rise, grabbing your backpack but before you follow Prentiss, you squeeze Garcia’s shoulder. “This was nice. Working with you, that is.”

She tears her eyes away from the screen to look up at your soulful eyes. You really appreciated how Garcia jumped into working with you with fervor and not giving you the cold shoulder from earlier this week. “Aww, sweetie! Yes, we’ll keep working at it to make this idea blossom into a full blown plan!”

You smile so hard your cheeks hurt and stay that way until Garcia gets back to work. You then meet up with Prentiss to walk out together.

“Good first day.” It was an observation by the section chief.

“Yeah, it really was.” You were smiling again. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Her tone carries a mystique to it, and you become captivated while walking to the bullpen together. “But I owe you a proper thank you. Langley sent me the confirmation of funds.”

“I’ll behave.” Prentiss’ eyes widen when you say that. “I won’t start making it rain money at you in celebration.”

She chuckles. “So, you can control it?”

“Occasionally.”

“Good. Then I’ve no regrets in getting you something.”

That made you perk up. “You got me something?”

“Bit overdue, but …” Prentiss stops without warning at the first desk to the right when you enter the bullpen. “… it’s yours.”

You are befuddled as you shift your gaze from Prentiss to the desk and audibly gasp. Resting on top of it was your name on display as a consultant. “Wow.”

Pleased with your reaction, she nudges you with her elbow. “This is when you’re supposed to thank me.”

“Ah, right!” you laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck before looking to her with a radiant smile. “Thank you, Prentiss.”

Your response without jest disarms her like it did last night over drinks. Your gazes lock for several beats and you just stand there with sincere gratitude that she welcomed you as a member of the team.

She recovers quickly with a stiff nod and motions to your desk. “You’re welcome. When you’re done getting settled, get back to working on that angle with Garcia.”

“You got it.” You immediately round the desk, already slipping off your backpack to place on top of it as Prentiss heads to her office.

That felt really nice to say in your head. Your desk. When was the last time you had a desk with a name plate? Everything you did was covert up until now so flashing your name and credentials was the equivalent to placing a target on your back with a bright flashing sign that says, ‘Shoot me!’. The right people knew your name when on mission, but most of your identity was done under aliases and callsigns.

You take a quick inventory of what’s on the desk – laptop connected to dual monitors, keyboard and mouse, stacked plastic organizers, phone, stapler, black plastic pen holder that was empty.

Guess I’ll have to find supplies…

You pick up the stapler and click it, watching a used staple hit the desk. At least that was ready to go for all the paperwork you’ll be doing now. The team will be excited to hear that! You then pull out the chair to get acquainted with the drawers only to be shocked for the second time today.

Waiting for you on the chair was a six pack of Diet Coke bottles with a blue sticky note attached. You peel it off to read and immediately smile.

Welcome to the BAU, Whitlock.

EP

Chapter 7

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 5 (Batter up)

a/n: To clarify, I do not own the rights to any pictures or names used in this story, except for Sierra Riley. All other rights and names belong to the NFL and MLB. Additionally, some characters are inspired by the game MLB The Show 24, which includes fictional characters. The title of the book is inspired by the song "It's a Man's World" by James Brown and Betty Jean Newsome, for which I also do not own the rights. All rights are held by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. and Unichappell Music, Inc. Enjoy!

If you had told me 10 years ago that I would be playing for the Atlanta Braves, I would have told you. You're lying, but here I am. After the draft, I had to fly to Florida for spring training, and then when that was over, I flew to Atlanta to sign my rookie contract, which is $380k for my first year plus a 2 million signing bonus. Then fly to Cincinnati for my first game for the season. Safe to say I've had a crazy couple of weeks. 

Oh and how fitting that Joe is throwing out the first pitch since its Reds opening day.  So it's really true what they say. It does come full circle. 

I walked out from the clubhouse into the away dugout. I noticed Joe in the batter's box swinging a bat at baseballs as they fired out the shooter and must I say he looked damn good while doing it too. 

Ok, time I come clean about something. Do I have a crush on my best friend Joe Burrow? Yes. Am I scared to tell him? Yes. Why? because if I do I'm going to make a complete fool of myself and I just do not want to risk that and possibly losing a friend.  

But friends don't text each other every day for random things or have late-night phone conversions like they used to when they were in LSU together. To sum it up over the last couple of months Joe and I have slipped back into our old ways and not that I'm complaining I just wish we were more. 

I noticed Joe had finished and might as well say hello. I walked out towards home plate catching the tail end of his conversation “I'm so proud of her…to watch her play in college I knew she was big league bound and now she's here.” I heard Joe tell my teammate Austin Riley, a third baseman. 

“There's the woman of the hour!” I hear Ja’marr call out as I make my way toward the group, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves.

I shake my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Stop! I'm done crying for today,” I reply, my voice tinged with a slight whine, reflecting the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.

Ja’marr looks at me with a supportive smile. “How do you feel? Are you ready for this?” he asks, his eyes filled with genuine concern. I nod slowly, trying to muster a confident expression despite my jitters. “I feel ready; I’m just trying not to overthink everything,” I admit, forcing a nervous smile.

“Sis, you’ve got this in the bag!” Ja’marr encourages, his voice steady and reassuring. “Don’t let them cloud your mind—just play your heart out, like you do every time.” His words resonate with me, pushing back the self-doubt that threatens to creep in.

“Ri, you’ve worked your ass off for this moment,” Joe chimes in, giving me a playful nudge on my shoulder. “You’re going to absolutely kill it today! And we just happen to have front-row seats to witness your brilliance.” His enthusiasm and belief in me fill me with warmth and motivation.

Nodding, I accept their words with a grateful smile, feeling a rush of confidence. “Thanks, you guys! That really helps. But now I have to ask: what the hell is this?” I say, gesturing pointedly at the Cincinnati jerseys they are both proudly wearing. They burst into laughter, clearly thinking they could charm their way out of my noticing their blatant team allegiance.

“Hey it was a gift from them but believe me I would wore yours if I could” Ja'marr gives his excuse. I turn to Joe waiting for his.

“I'm from Ohio.” he gives the most obvious answer—typical Joe.

------

Against all odds, Joe delivered a flawless pitch after the pregame festivities and the stirring national anthem. I could feel the excitement coursing through me—this was my moment, my MLB debut.

As they called my name, I heard Joe and Ja’marr erupting with cheers from their private suite through the crowd their support only boosted my confidence and set the stage for what was about to happen.

I locked in my focus, ready to face the pitcher. He glanced at the runner on first, then turned his gaze to me and wound up for the throw.

The pitch came rushing straight at me! I instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. “One ball, no strikes.” But that wasn’t a mistake; he wanted to rattle me. Too bad for him—I’m not easily shaken. 

I reset myself, gripping the bat firmly, ready for the next challenge. The pitcher checked the runner again and delivered another pitch.

This time, he made a crucial misstep—an offspeed pitch! I saw it coming, and without hesitation, I swung with all my power. The crack of the bat was electric, and I sent that ball soaring out of the park. A home run on my very first hit! 2-0, baby! Now that’s how you make an unforgettable debut. 

-------

We won only by the skin of our teeth 5-4. I had just changed out of my away uniform into some sweets and a hoodie when I heard a knock on my locker room door. 

“It's open” I shout, not feeling like walking to the door. 

The door opens and Joe pops his head in “Hey can I come in?” 

I waved my hand “Yeah come on” 

 He steps in closing the door behind him “Getting ready to head out just wanted to say you looked great out there today” he compliments. 

“Thanks, I had to show off a bit, you know. Oh! I meant to give this back to you, but everything just happened so fast,” I said, remembering his chain that he gave to me to wear on Daft Night. But I never did give it back to him. If I remember right, I was in my gym bag. Bingo pulled it right out. 

I went to hand it back to him be he stopped me “Keep it Ri” 

 “Huh?” I said making sure I heard him right. This boy is crazy.

Joe cracked a little smile “Keep it...believe me I've got plenty”  

I looked at him to make sure he wasn't joking “You sure cause this is worth more than my signing bonus” I joked nervously.

He smiled and nodded his head “Yeah I'm sure think of it as an ‘I knew you would make it’s gift”.

I smiled “Ok no take takebacks Burrow,” I said putting back in my bag. 

“What are you doing when you leave here?” Joe asked suddenly. I shrugged my shoulders. “It's still early so I'm not really tired. Might just chill back at the hotel. Why what's up?” I answered taking a seat on the bench.

He looks at me for a second then slightly shakes his head. “Some friends of mine wanted to go out to eat and all but Ja'marr had to leave soo…” 

“You want me to go in his place?” I finished the sentence for him. 

This is not anything new. I went to a lot of Joe's events as his plus one back in LSU. And he did the same thing for me. 

“Yeah but if you want to call it a day I understand” he quickly says.

I shake my head with a laugh “No I'll go with you, Joe. Plus it would be nice to get a breather before tomorrow's game” I said, opening up my suitcase. 

“Give me a few to get changed and I'll be right out”

Joe raised his eyebrows “You really could go in what you have on” he said nonchalantly 

Is this boy out of his mind? “Joe I'm not hanging out around people I don't know in a hoodie and sweatpants,” I said looking at him all upside his head.

“Yes, you can cause one where only going to Texas Roadhouse. Two you just finished a hell of a baseball game and have a right to wear this. And if someone has a problem with it then we can go and have our own dinner” he says the confidence just flows out as he says it.

My stomach should have not tightened up but I just love how protective this man is. Biting my lip not knowing what to say except “Alright let's go”

-------

Joe was walking me up to my room after that impromptu hangout session with his friends which by the way all amazing. 

“Yeah I'm definitely paying for this tomorrow,” I said feeling like I was ready to pop. 

Joe gives out a small chuckle “Yeah that makes two of us”  

I give him this funny look “You got time to burn it off, Joe. I on the other hand have to play a game tomorrow” I said pulling out my keycard for my room. “Fair point Far point,” Joe said not disagreeing with me

Stopping in front of my room “This is me” I said turning to Joe “Thanks again for inviting me” I said suddenly nervous as I looked at him and his features pretty blue eyes, dirty blonde hair so silky you could run your fingers through it and not get tangled. To some it up this boy was fine. 

His voice knocked me out of my thoughts “No thank you for coming. I owe you one for this Ri” 

Yeah, a date.

“What’d you say” I saw Joe's eyebrows raise..Did I say that out loud could have sworn I said that in my head. 

“I didn't say anything,” I said quickly shaking my head trying to avoid this conversation at all costs.

“Nah, Nah you said something. What did you say?” he asked stepping a little closer. Looking the other way with a blush on my cheeks “I said a date” I repeat my words still not looking a him. 

He stood there with the biggest smirk on his face “I still didn't hear what you said say it again and this time” he paused to gently grab my chin “Look at me” 

Soaked absolutely Soked straight through.

Unable to move I said it again looking straight dead in his eyes “A date. You owe me a date” 

Joe nodded his head and let my chin go “That's what I thought you said” he said stepping away from me. “Ok, how about this. If you get to the World Series which I know you will I'll take you on a date” he said proposing a challenge or more like a bet. “Ok and if I don’t,” I said waiting for the catch no pun intended. 

“Then I still take you on the date’

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥

steve harrington/eddie munson for @steddiemicrofic’s april prompt: fool, 454 words. ft. steve harrington can cook/bake club rise !, eddie is greedy asf | M rating read on ao3

“Okay, taste this one for me.” 

“Steve, I feel sick…”

“One bite?” 

Eddie groans, folding himself over the kitchen island and resting his head in his arms. 

“I thought it was going to be amazing when you got into baking but we do this every weekend, and every weekend, I get a tummy ache.” 

He’s muffled but Steve can still make him out, and he sighs. 

“Well… don’t want you to get a tummy ache,” Steve decides, logical about it, if not also a little bit dejected. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to be my taste tester any more today.” 

Eddie sighs a sigh of relief as he sits up again, though he does have an apologetic pout settling on his lips. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“I’ll just have to be my own taste tester,” Steve says as he digs the spoon into the swirl of pink and white. 

He brings it to his mouth and lets his eyes flutter shut, moaning with all the enthusiasm he does when Eddie’s mouth is around his dick, maybe even more. Eddie’s not sure if that should offend him or not. Nonetheless, Steve’s reaction makes him perk up a little, and he curiously reaches towards the short glass tumbler the dessert’s been neatly presented in.

“Uh— maybe I could have a little taste…?”

Steve opens his eyes, immediately frowning. “No. You feel sick already, you said.” 

“Pretty please?” 

It makes Steve roll his eyes, but he slides the tumbler across the counter and hands Eddie his spoon to try it. One bite makes Eddie’s eyes widen. 

“Holy shit—babe, that’s delicious.” 

He’s quick to try another heaping spoonful. And another. Steve blinks at him as Eddie keeps ladling raspberries and cream into his mouth like they’re going out of style. 

“Why’s it called fool, anyways?” he asks through his mouthful, droplet of cream flying out. 

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s some English dessert, I found it in one of my mom’s cookbooks.” 

“Well, whoever named it is the fool because they should’ve called it, like, raspberry heaven or something more appropriate, holy shit.”

That makes Steve glow, pleased that it’s a hit. It’s a simple recipe but he added a couple little twists of his own to it; raspberry liqueur alongside the berries themselves, and a few drops of vanilla extract. He’s gathering dishes into the sink when he hears Eddie start complaining again—he could’ve timed it to the second. 

“I don’t feel well,” he whines.

“Who’s the fool now?” Steve says, peering over his shoulder as he waits for the water to warm up. “I told you not to eat it.” 

Eddie puts his face back down on the counter with a groan. “It was worth it.”

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

even heroes need someone to stand up for them

pair: Percy Jackson x reader

summary: y/n(she/her) gets protective when another camper tries to pick a fight with Percy, stepping in to defend him, much to his amusement

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

The camp was buzzing with activity as Percy and Y/N made their way to the archery field. They had just finished their sword-fighting training, and Percy had been excitedly talking about his latest move that he finally perfected. Y/N was listening with a smile, nodding along, even though she had seen the move a hundred times. She just liked watching him talk, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

As they approached the archery field, they noticed a group of campers gathered around, watching two boys argue. Y/N recognized one of them as Derek, a hot-headed Ares kid who was always looking for a fight. The other was a scrawny Hermes kid who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Come on, let’s just practice,” Percy said, trying to steer Y/N away from the scene.

But as they tried to walk past, Derek noticed them and sneered. “Well, if it isn’t the big hero, Percy Jackson,” Derek called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Percy stopped, turning to face Derek. “What’s your problem, Derek?” he asked, his tone even.

“My problem?” Derek laughed, stepping closer. “My problem is that you walk around here like you own the place, just because you’re Poseidon’s kid. Some of us actually have to work hard to get respect.”

Percy sighed, clearly not in the mood for Derek’s nonsense. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “What, you too good to fight me, Jackson? Scared you’ll lose?”

Y/N felt a surge of anger. Derek was always trying to prove himself, picking fights with anyone who he thought was weaker than him.

She could see Percy was trying to stay calm, but she knew how Derek’s taunts could get under his skin.

Without thinking, Y/N stepped forward, placing herself between Percy and Derek.

“Back off, Derek,” Y/N said firmly, her eyes flashing. “Percy doesn’t want to fight you, and you’re just making a fool of yourself.”

Derek looked surprised for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, look, Jackson’s got a little bodyguard now. What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Hit me with your purse?”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists. “How about I hit you with my sword?” she shot back. “Or are you too scared to fight someone who might actually beat you?”

The campers around them gasped, some of them snickering. Derek’s face turned red with anger, and he took a step forward, but Y/N didn’t back down. She stood her ground, her eyes locked on his.

Percy stepped up beside her, a grin spreading across his face. “Y/N, it’s okay,” he said softly, amusement clear in his voice. “I can handle this.”

“I know you can,” Y/N replied without taking her eyes off Derek. “But why should you have to? He’s just looking for a fight because he’s got nothing better to do.”

Derek glared at Y/N, but she didn’t flinch. Finally, he muttered something under his breath and turned away, shoving the Hermes kid out of his way as he stormed off.

The crowd began to disperse, some of the campers whispering to each other, impressed by how Y/N had stood up to Derek. Percy watched them go, then turned to Y/N with a smile.

“You know, I could’ve handled that,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. “I know. But sometimes, even heroes need someone to stand up for them.”

Percy chuckled. “You know, you’re kind of scary when you get all protective like that.”

Y/N smirked. “Good. Maybe now people will think twice before messing with you.”

Percy shook his head, still smiling. “Well, thanks. It was kind of nice, having you stand up for me.”

Y/N shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but Percy could see the warmth in her eyes. “Anytime, Jackson,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “What are friends for?”

Percy grinned and slung his arm over her shoulders as they walked toward the archery field. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think I’m the luckiest guy in camp.”

Y/N blushed, looking away to hide her smile. “Yeah, yeah, keep talking, Seaweed Brain. We’ve got arrows to shoot.”

[sunderingstars]

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ CHARACTER LINES ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, somewhat a character study, elation!sampo

— word count: 4.6k (oh my god i am insane. he makes me insane)

— overview: (as of 2.4) an analysis of sampo’s character dialogue outside of quests!

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ INTRO ⌝

I’m putting this here because I wasn’t sure where else to put it, I just wanted to point out that his character intro describes him as someone who “travels freely” between two places (in this case, the Overworld and Underworld, but could also apply to multiple states of being) as well as saying he “acts” like he is everyone’s friend (performance) and is “enthusiastically humorous” (very similar to “infectious enthusiasm”). Being good at bantering also seems very Elation-aligned. That’s all!

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ FIRST MEETING ⌝

Each character’s “first meeting” line is arguably one of their most important lines. Not only does it give you a baseline introduction to them and their personality, but it shows you how they present themselves to others (i.e. the aspects of themselves they choose to consciously, or unconsciously, emphasize when meeting someone). For Sampo, this includes all of the “perks” that come with knowing him. Business, chaperoning, conversation — these are all part of a “deal” to him, a transaction of knowing and being known.

I haven’t talked about this much in my previous analyses, but Sampo has a very specific mindset of viewing friendship as a commodity. This could easily be chalked up to his idea of business and transaction rubbing off on other parts of his life, but given the strange emphasis he places on “being friends” throughout his dialogue, I’m suspicious it might be more than that. It seems he either isn’t willing to or isn’t capable of seeing genuine human connection as any more than another deal, another façade to do business with. It may be his way of keeping people at arm’s length, or perhaps the Elation won’t let him view people as anything more than another joke, another transaction of language and Laughter to make at another’s expense. Whatever the case, he seems dead-set on including “friendship” in his package deal when doing business.

I also find it interesting how he isn’t wrong. For someone who has a penchant for distorting the truth on a whim, Sampo is, in fact, a “chaperone” and “problem-solving conversationalist.” (“Businessman” is a given, we all know how well that’s going for him given that he literally has an idle where he counts his big stacks of money.) Despite not really having to, Sampo goes out of his way on Penacony to take the Trailblazer around and show us the dream bubble — even if it’s not a “traditional” chaperone role, it’s clear he was trying to look out for us in his own way (same thing on Belobog with the smoke bombs). Additionally, he’s very adept at solving problems by sheer virtue of talking, as shown by being the archetype that’s able to talk himself out of a myriad of situations. So at the end of the day, I guess I’d have to agree with him: it is a pretty sweet deal.

However, arguably the most intriguing thing about this line is the meta aspect of it — the big picture of his selling point being multiple things “rolled into one.” I don’t want to read too much into it, but I can’t help but wonder if this “three-in-one” phrase refers to more than just his skills. After all, if a running theme of his character is being a businessman and a chaperone and a problem-solving conversationalist, who’s to say it doesn’t apply to him being a Masked Fool and an Emanator and an Aeon (or a part of one, or a creation of one, or an avatar of one — honestly, at this point I feel like we can mix and match). At the very least, it would match up with the rule of three. Food for thought!

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ GREETING & PARTING ⌝

The greeting here seems pretty standard — going into it assuming he’ll get paid, then waffling and thinking about backing out when he realizes he won’t. What’s notable here, however, is that he covers it up by stumbling out a “Not a problem!” and continuing on with us. I feel like this partially shows how much he values friendship (despite clearly still wanting a payout) while also not quite having enough spine to straight up say “no” to us. The only thing I’m not sure about is if the Trailblazer is special in this regard, or if Sampo would keep going with anyone else.

The parting is a bit more notable, especially the idea of “I’m not going anywhere.” It seems half-comforting, half-threat, like he’ll always be a constant in our lives, for better or for worse. In a way, he may be like a never-ending joke we just can’t get rid of no matter how hard we try. (Don’t worry Sampo, I would never think of getting rid of you 😌.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT SELF ⌝

This line, despite at first seeming like a joke, feels more personal the longer it goes on. The first “I’m an easygoing fella” seems like exactly the kind of thing a shady businessman would say when trying to drum up clients: “I’m personable,” “I look out for people,” “I’m a community man,” etc. However, by the time the line ends, it very much sounds like he’s referring to something specific. The idea of getting “pulled into everyone else’s business with nothing to show for it” sounds like a passive aggressive dig at something or someone we don’t have the specifics for. Especially with the “tsk” at the end and the repetition of “easygoing,” it almost seems like he’s trying to vent his frustration about being constantly pulled into things he doesn’t want to be a part of.

Now that we know he’s an “old timer” within the Masked Fools, this line of thinking makes sense — he’s left behind his mask, meaning he may have gotten tired and fed up with getting roped into the Fools’ shenanigans. With how exasperated he sounds in much of his Penacony dialogue, I’m not surprised he said something like this.

Going a step further, this could even apply to an Emanator being burnt out at having to deal with the Elation, or even Aha Themself feeling the constraints of a compulsory existence. I feel like Emanator or Silhouette theories would work better for this particular line, although it’s possible that Aha could achieve this level of genuine exasperation through split/dual/separate consciousness.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ CHAT: INTEL ⌝

Once again, Sampo shows how smart he is. He may be shady, yes, but he does know how to “maximize profit.” After hearing of Boothill’s run in with an Elation Emanator in 2.2, I can’t help but wonder if it was Sampo playing into this idea of selling information to multiple people — I definitely don’t think Boothill learning of the Emanator’s status was a coincidence, even if he says it was because he got it drunk. To me, this definitely reads as Sampo parceling out information in the right doses to the right people, “packaging” it in such a way that that person is none the wiser.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ HOBBIES, ANNOYANCES, & SOMETHING TO SHARE ⌝

Despite only being one line, “hobbies” sticks out to me as a potential revelation. First, there’s no mention of the passion or creativity often associated with hobbies, it’s just him stating what he believes — there’s no indication he actually enjoys it deep down (compulsory existence mayhaps). Secondly, “small talk brings big clients” shows how he focuses on the details and minutiae of the larger picture; he may not be one for flashy entrances like Sparkle (hell, his big entrance in Belobog was when he was literally surrounded by smoke) but he does know how to manipulate the odds to be in his favor. I also find “big clients” interesting. While it could just be a reference to his dealings on Belobog, I can’t help but wonder just how far this might extend. What kind of “big clients” has he brought in? Is he neglecting to mention that he’s a “big client” himself? Is he used to shmoozing in the big leagues? Only time will tell.

In comparison, the annoyance line is fairly standard. It’s a link to his shady side, the idea that he’s just a poor businessman, *sniffle,* and how could someone be so mean to such a nice fella? He’s operating in technicalities here, full well knowing why he’s considered a con-man but intentionally being obtuse about it. It is very endearing to me.

“Something to share” almost seems Robin-Hood-esque. At first, I thought he was talking about more “business” stuff, the idea of “sharing is caring, so you should share your money with me,” but the more I re-read the more I realized he’s probably getting at the wealth inequality in Belobog. He’s technically affiliated with the Underworld, after all, and his closest friends seem to be there too. Behind the fixation on profit and only doing things if it benefits him materially, there seems to also be a genuine want to share himself, to “make up the shortfall.” Even if the “sharing” isn’t coming from his own possessions, he still wants to get the Underworld the supplies and means to live comfortably, which is a surprisingly sweet sentiment. He has a heart in there, I swear.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ KNOWLEDGE ⌝

I feel like this line speaks for itself — the man is omniscient and he is toying with us. He knows way more than he’s letting on, even referencing the Astral Express as a “train” for shits and giggles. Your Elation is showing, king.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT SVAROG & CLARA ⌝

I don’t know what’s funnier: the implication that Sampo has tried to strike a deal with Svarog before, or the implication that he, Sampo “I can talk my way into and out of anything” Koski, failed. He was probably aware his conversationalism wouldn’t work on a machine like Svarog, but damn if he didn’t want to try anyways. I would pay good money to see that go down. Too bad Sampo exists in another universe and can’t haggle it out of me.

Alternatively, his line about Clara is pretty sweet. Referring to her as “our little girl” shows how he views himself as part of the Underworld — even if he came from beyond the sky, even if he integrated himself into Belobog for a larger purpose, he still cares. He sees himself as one of them. Behind the gaud and the glamor, we can begin to see that silhouette, that want for connection in the periphery, staying in the shadows because it’s afraid to step into the light. Yet, despite him even realizing it, he’s begun to integrate himself. Begun to see himself as more than just a means to an end, an instigator or a jokester or a clown. He has, in a sense, become part of the collective — a healthy collective, one big found family, and Clara is just one part of it. Beyond his knowing, he’s gone from “I” and “them” to “us.” To “we.” To “our.” (And he is also still eternally confused over how the hell to communicate with Svarog.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT NATASHA ⌝

I like how naturally he describes the progression of their relationship here. While it may not be entirely truthful or accurate (who knows with Sampo), it at least seems like he views his and Natasha’s friendship as an easy progression from one stage to the next. Despite it being transactional, it doesn’t really feel like a transaction, just an evolution of something whose seeds were already planted. It’s also notable that he started with medicine — not intel, not materialistic wealth like relics or Shield, but medicine. His first establishing relationship with Natasha was literally bringing her life-saving medicine. It really reminds me of how he saved the Trailblazer’s life in The Moles’ hide-and-seek daily mission; it’s the things he does in the shadows that really count, really show that he does, in fact, care. Despite what he tells you, he still wants to help. “You know how these things work” is also so funny because it’s like… no, no the Trailbalzer does not know how these things work. (Also, “arrived” in the Underworld? Interesting word choice, bestie.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT SEELE ⌝

I just think it’s really funny to imagine Sampo, either an Emanator or an Aeon or both, being constantly told off by some resistance fighter on a random snow planet. Like, Seele is really out here doing what 99% of beings can’t. (With Doll Theory, however, this is a bit… heartbreaking, especially “Can someone explain what I did to deserve her?” potentially hiding the deeper, more agonizing question of “Can someone explain what I did to deserve this?”. But I am choosing not to think about that right now for my own sanity.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT BRONYA ⌝

He really has no self-preservation when it comes to scoring big, does he? Despite how carefully methodical his endgame plans seem to be, his omniscience doesn’t stop him from throwing himself out there when he feels there’s something to be gained. It’s okay, Sampo, she’s nice. You don’t need to risk getting beat up just to talk to her, I’m sure you can arrange a meeting. (Also, I feel like this mirrors his “painful introduction” to the Trailbalzer at the beginning of the Belobog storyline — sure, Sampo had to put up with Dan Heng’s prodding and Gepard’s arrival, but he made the biggest score of all: getting to meet us. So, maybe it’s not just “throwing himself out there.” Maybe it’s all one big calculation on his part.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT THE LANDAUS ⌝

Gepard potentially triggering Sampo’s Elation instincts is hilarious to me. I’ll expand on it in a dedicated Sampard post, but it’s so in line with the Elation for Sampo, most likely a god in his own right, to find such catharsis in, what? Being chased around in the snow by a hot blonde guard? In terms of the wider universe, Gepard is literally just some guy. And yet here Sampo is, doing a little heehee haha and having the time of his life. It’s the little things, you know?

(On a more serious note, if we’re dealing with a Sampo who’s constantly felt like he has no control over his “enjoyment” of Elation — even a Silhouette or Doll Theory Sampo who is actively being harmed by “the joke” — then him gradually warming up to Gepard is surprisingly wholesome. Here he is, someone who has always found himself subject to Elation rather than naturally falling into it, finding a way to reclaim that enjoyment and find a genuine place for it within himself. Some sort of reconciliation, perhaps, a bit of happiness that’s his own and no one else’s, some part of a situation that he can control. The elation he feels here is not Elation, but rather a genuine feeling of connection, one not brought on suddenly by the punchline of a joke, but one that has gradually grown over time, matured, blossomed into something warm and real and comforting. Gepard has no idea, but he’s slowly mellowing out the “compulsory” of compulsory existence until it becomes nothing but a fading whisper. Anyways can you tell I love Sampard?)

I’m also interested in how Serval and Sampo used to be “good pals.” While Sampo’s idea of a “good pal” could be wildly off-base from what Serval experienced — with the likelihood that Sampo’s “we were besties” was Serval’s “he was an annoying guy who kept asking me for deals” — it makes sense to me that they might’ve gotten along at some point. Serval is a fairly casual and accepting person, so I could see her and Sampo being friends (although I don’t think she would have fallen for many of his scams). However, I definitely don’t think she’d agree with Sampo’s shady business dealings, so finding out from Gepard just how much of a criminal he is would definitely sour things. She would believe in giving the Underworlders the resources they need, for sure, but definitely not Sampo pocketing money for himself or scamming random people who’ve done nothing wrong. “Gepard’s bad word” probably wasn’t even that malicious, just a statement of fact.

(I, however, like to think that Gepard opened up about his crush on Sampo to Serval and her protective older sister genes kicked in. What Sampo is really registering is the change from “oh, you’re a chill guy” to “if you hurt my baby brother so help me god I will end your entire existence.” It is canon in my heart.)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT LUKA ⌝

This one is another tie-in to Sampo’s fixation on business and profit. I do wonder why and how Sampo missed out on making money here, though. Perhaps the timing was off, or he had bigger things to deal with, or Luka just didn’t want to work with him for whatever reason. Either way, it’s kinda funny that he knows Luka as “that kid I could’ve made money off of but didn’t”. I can just see him hanging his head dejectedly in my mind. It’s okay, Sampo, you’ll get ‘em next time.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ABOUT SPARKLE ⌝

Sparkle is a unique case, being the only other playable Masked Fool and having a direct connection with Sampo through the organization. He seems to have a pretty good read on her, which would make sense if his status as an “old timer” includes having a lot of experience dealing with specific members of the Fools. He’s basically reading her like a book, saying: She’s all over the place, and you never have anything truly figured out. There’s also the meta commentary of “outwit herself,” referencing the events of Black Swan’s companion quest and an Inception-like folding in of all her personas. It also seems like it might be a bit of a projection: “Think you’ve got her all figured out, don’t you?” I didn’t say anything Sampo, but if this “you” is in the room with us right now, it’s okay, you can just say it. Perhaps he tried to understand her at some point in the past and it fucked him over. (Just speculation!)

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ ASCENSION & ACTIVATION ⌝

Whoo boy, this eidolon activation. It’s definitely suspicious, to say the least. There’s a reason I chose it as my quote for my Elation!Sampo masterlist, and that’s because it encapsulates so much about his potential identity. There’s the fact he’s not being direct about it, phrasing it as a question where he speaks in second person, trailing off at the end; even now, he seems unwilling or unable to face the truth with his full chest. There’s also the phrase “colorful past,” which just makes me ask: How much of a colorful past are we talking? This could range anywhere from Masked Fools shenanigans to “oh yeah, I used to be an Aeon.” The fact he’s so indirect about it makes me more suspicious — it’s an extremely leading question, very smug and taunting, which makes my mind just go up and up and up the power scale list, much like “old timer” caused me to do the same. There’s just a quality to this line that basically screams, “There is something large and powerful and dormant inside of him! Be careful!”.

The ascension once again links back to money, and his trace activation is about the transactional “business” of friendship. The last notable thing here is his “max level reached,” where he expresses disappointment over… hitting max level? “That’s it? *sigh* I was just getting started,” is not the kind of thing even a regular Masked Fool would say. Again, we’re given a hint of almost incomprehensible power, the idea that the limit of the game, of the universe, isn’t enough for him. In a strikingly eldritch way, our “max” is simply a small drop in his bucket, an ant he barely even notices. He really isn’t beating the Elation allegations, is he?

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ TEAMS ⌝

Since there’s five different ones here, I’ll go through them fairly quickly:

Natasha — Reminds me of Natasha’s own voiceline where she says Sampo doesn’t like owing people things. It shows that he really does try to pay favors back as soon as possible, keeping them present in his mind so they don’t go unresolved for too long.

Hook — It’s interesting how he reacts to her in a similar way he does the Masked Fools: exasperation, but still a little fond. There’s some care, some nostalgia mixed in there, but at the end of the day he still knows that something is getting blown to smithereens.

Seele — On his best behavior. He really doesn’t want her to get angry at him, does he? 

Trailblazer — Interesting how he laughs at the beginning here. Interesting how he says, “Ha!” Interesting how this is only with the Trailblazer. Hm. That is all.

Sparkle — “Same rule as always” establishes a long-form relationship; it’s likely they’ve known each other for a long time, or at least long enough to have established “rules” for each time they fight or work together. The fact that the rule is “no backstabbing” is also fitting, seeing as Sparkle (and by proxy, the Masked Fools) are definitely the type to backstab at any given moment. The real question is: Is this rule simply a surface-level attempt by Sampo to stop from getting messed with, or does Sparkle actually listen to him?

It also sets up Sampo as at least pretending to be on the same power level as Sparkle — he’s in a position where he feels the need to be wary and on-guard around her despite occupying a potentially higher status.

✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ COMBAT & MISC. ⌝

Reading through these, I just felt like I was getting smacked over the head with theories. It’s like he was repeatedly hitting me on the back of the head with a baseball bat or something. Having each line side by side really makes certain patterns become apparent. Since there’s so many, I’ll go through them fairly quickly (feel free to ask me to expand on any of these if you want!):

Battle Begins: Weakness Break: “Fun” links to Elation. “Just” is downplaying the severity of a Weakness Break, reducing pain/danger to yet another joke. A somewhat callous view of life, similar to the Worm Fiasco.

Battle Begins: Danger Alert: Endless pursuit of entertainment and Elation — “the stronger the better.” Like Aha, it’s less about winning or losing, but rather the challenge and thrill of the fight itself.

Turn Begins: Line 1 — The idea of “friends” again, showing physical protection and aid to be part of the “transaction”; however “takes care of” seems less transactional and more genuine. Line 2 — More transactional with the idea of “business”; perhaps refers to violence as “doing business” with enemies, or helping the trailblazer as “doing business.”

Turn Idling: “Bring out” and “big guns” links to hidden or increased power, something that needs to be revealed. Since this is his turn idle, it gives the implication that he is “waiting” to bring out this power until the right time (though he is impatient about it).

Skill: Argument One — Silly goofy behavior. Argument Two (Delusional) — “Size” alludes to the physical changing of size between mortal and Emanator/Aeonic form.

Hit by Light Attack: Seems somewhat performative.

Hit by Heavy Attack: Seems to be overly protective of his “face” — or rather, the potential physical facade he puts up to hide his true identity from others. Doll Sampo may be overly concerned with “breaking,” while other theories may be worried about something being “revealed” if too much of his physical form is chipped away. (In a way, the avatar of “Sampo Koski” may be a mask in and of itself, able to be broken.)

Ultimate: Activate: Again with the idea of “waiting,” man is impatient.

Ultimate: Unleash: If we’re going with an Elation!Sampo theory, it seems like he may almost be alluding to Aha as “king” here, which would center themes of betrayal and switching sides. It doesn’t seem personal in this case, but rather a power/money/profit-oriented standpoint.

Downed: *Puts on tinfoil hat* Sampo could actually be referencing a “loophole payment” here; as shown in the Curio Hacker Occurrence, one of the curios given to us by the blue-haired man is “Organic Heart,” a curio that removes the golden (powerful) dice face for four turns, destroys itself, then grants two cheat attempts — if we take this as an allegory for Sampo’s existence, then he may be paying a “price” as an Emanator or Aeon to escape an unfortunate fate later on (or accomplish something impossible). In this way, “This price was too steep…” may refer to Sampo being trapped in mortal form (a more vulnerable state) and realizing the “price” he paid upfront for those cheat attempts isn’t worth it if he never gets to see the fruits of his labor.

Return to Battle: This may also link to the Curio Hacker dice faces, as a combat “turn” could also stand-in for a dice “roll” — he has been brought back to fight, and so he will continue to participate in the cycle until his cheat attempts are granted. (Also, it links to the cyclical nature of the snakes, going from one turn to the next, never able to truly die.)

Health Recovery: Another mention of transactions, debt, and “owing” — according to Natasha’s voice line about him, this is not a phrase he says lightly.

Technique: Laughter, plan and simple. The Laugher, even, if we’re feeling frisky.

Battle Won: Probably one of the biggest clues in his voicelines. “How’re you gonna win if you don’t take any risks?” directly implies a “risk” at the core of his being, some dangerous change he is making to make sure he gets what he wants. May somewhat detract from Aha theories in that Aha doesn’t seem to care about “winning,” however who knows if that mindset has changed or if Sampo simply thinks that because he is currently in mortal form. Either way, it once again links to him paying a “cost” for those later cheat attempts.

Treasure Opening 1: Good old cash reference.

Treasure Opening 2: Kinda sweet that he lets us keep it, even though it’s only because he doesn’t have any use for it.

Precious Treasure Opening: … And of course he immediately shoves us aside when it’s something he’s actually interested in.

Successful Puzzle-Solving: 1: Pretty generic.

Successful Puzzle-Solving 2: Reference to his businessman persona and how he’s made a career out of “solving others’ problems.” It may be that he’s trying to solve a problem for either himself or Aha as an outside entity (or perhaps even a different Aeon of Emanator, who knows).

Enemy Target Found: Sounds almost taunting; there’s no vocal recording in this post, but if you listen to his English voice acting it sounds goading, almost like he’s daring you to start the fight. “I dunno” is a bit more reserved, like he’s hesitating a bit, but I’m definitely on the side of “he can handle this, he’s just fucking with us.”

Returning to Town: Another third person reference! Obligatory business reference.

And whew, that’s all of it! Every single Sampo character screen voice line as of 2.4! My main takeaways are definitely the third-person references, as well as the fixation on business and profit. The lines linking to Curio Hacker especially stand out to me — “risks” and “prices” remind me a lot of Organic Heart. But I’ll save that for its own analysis! As for now, I hope this was a comprehensive-enough coverage of Sampo’s voicelines. In my opinion, this man definitely has some Elation-related shenanigans going on.

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for reading to the end!

☆━━━━━ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ━━━━━━☆

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.