#game sucks event sucks i suck even harder

[thingswhatareawesome]

just sr pathetic whining.

do just like i'm supposed to when trying swarm diff III. path of abundance, pres mc, qq, dhil, luocha. get great run of blessings. boss stage 1 pastes qq near instantly (even had the destr blessing to divide dmg), then couple rounds later gets dhil, despite healing. draws out to boss enrage (goddamn grizzlies anyway). constant enemies with lightning dmg, when i didn't have jy, ofc. and boss buff was gonna do shit anyway, bc it was going to create phys or ice weakess, which ofc i had neither of.

next run, take jy. still use path abundance. blessing choices are constant shit, don't even have the basic resonance yet. partway through stage 1, get a swarm i literally can't do enough dmg to to get ahead of the new spawns, sit and spin until enrage. and ofc jy dies. does that matter? no, bc this time they want *quantum* so i should've had qq.

so tired of the random bullshit in this event. you NEVER have the damage type they're going to want, every time you guess you're wrong. the blessing rng is all over the place. and ofc my shields just aren't good enough bc i'm sure i just should have gepard's super shields which i don't, bc i'm both f2p and standard only ever gave me one 5* and that's himeko.

i just HATE this event. i wasted so much gd time, to get nothing. yet yesterday i did so well on difficulty II and it was damned near easy. it's ALL RANDOM RNG and god i just want to destroy shit and i'm just again, so frustrated bc all i can see is i'm too pathetic and shitty at this game and my characters are too shitty to function, and all i see are people with amazing characters with amazing stats and i just WISH i could fucking have their relics and planar shit bc all mine are bad and it's not my fault??? it's what the game's given me? i'm doing my fucking best??? and it's just not enough.

just tired of this event making it seem like hoyo's gating me, that i'm not allowed to play with the big kids anymore. all bc just rng on top of rng on top of rng with a f2p cherry on top.

idk. not sure whether to retry it tomorrow with path preservation, or just give up and go back to diff ii and accept i'm too crappy to do any better (meanwhile everyone considers III ez or normal and only get challenged higher).

and yet again i'm going to be up too late. bc sim u shit takes SO MUCH TIME and ofc so does the swarm version. and i'm tired of not realizing i'm playing til 1am which means i'll be lucky to be goign to bed by 3. again.

and i think i'm the only one who hates this event, who's frustrated and upset by it, everyone else thinks it's fun and great, like it's only ME that's struggling. because i suck. i guess.

i hate that i hit the point in this game where i feel too shitty of a player to be daring to play. i remember when i got to that point in xiv when i changed from hey i'm having fun at this and i'm doing my best and doing good to wow i suck and no matter hard i try i'm always avg at best. and now i've hit that here, where i felt like hey i'm having fun i'm doing good if i do my best and keep trying i eventually get it to now just i already know to not bother with FH and now this just says nah i'm shitty and everyone else are meta gods and i'm stupid and take forever to learn, but no matter how much i do or how much time i spend learning, the game's still going to fuck me over by just constant CONSTANT bad rng in every damned aspect of the game.

why can't the game just give me a fucking break and give me the good rng it give other people. please, why push me down when i'm already down as it is.

and seriously HOW COULD I DO SO WELL YESTERDAY AND SO COMPLETELY AWFUL TODAY. ALL THROUGH ALL 3 PARTS OF DIFF II WITHOUT EVEN ONE DEATH AND THIS I CAN'T EVEN DO STAGE 1. i just...what the fuck even. tired of feeling like i only get to do well if i'm lucky and all the stars align just so. why even try if the biggest gamble is if the game is/isn't going to outright fuck you over and prevent you from succeeding.

i just...want some event rewards too :/ i knew i wasn't going to get them all, had that happen before on one with difficulty levels. didn't realize i was barely going to get anything from doing my literal goddamned best.

[mejomonster]

I am yet again debating if im willing to wade through dating apps to try and meet someone

[memoryoflooping]

my verdict on pfq is that this sucks so fucking bad. i made my account in 2020 and only now i can say i'm having fun bc i can shiny hunt and stuff way more effectively. doing stuff like tr as a solo player sucked so fucking bad (three months ago i was on dragon tr and i couldn't fucking shiny or albino hunt. i couldn't hunt until fucking july), and i don't even wanna hunt the cool specials bc w the revamps they will just. completely change the fucking colors, so if you liked a albino or melan the way it was you might as well die. do not even get me started on this shelter systemmmm bc like wym "The Shelter should remain an incredibly inefficient way to find Exclusives/Variants, whether that be for initially Dexing them, or for breeding extras to adopt through there" like how the fuck do you hunt them then?????

[hanafubukki]

Can be seen as a part 2 to this fic (after some time has passed that is) or can be read as a stand-alone.

“Leave me alone human!”

“For someone who is chained to the ground and gravely injured, you’re pretty loud.”

“I’ll rip you from limb to limb.”

“Why don’t you get better first before we get there hmm?”

General Lilia Vanrouge screeched at you in the fae language, some of which you knew were curses. Ah yes, you can’t wait to make fun of your Lilia when you get back to your time. His cursing while playing video games had you easily recognizing some of them now.

Luckily for you and your ears, the General wore himself out. The wounds from the iron and those of the battles weakened him.

It didn’t help that he also had a fever as a result. You were put in this cell to help him recover. Humpty Dumpty- well, King Henrik, implied it was the least you could do.

A random human that was pick up by his men, who was using valuable resources that could go to his soldiers instead. Never mind the fact that you helped treat said soldiers and gather said resources.

The Knight of Dawn had clenched his fist, about to speak up on your behalf. But you simply grabbed his hand and shook your head. It wasn’t worth it. King Henrik would just make his life harder for talking back, and you didn’t want that. The Knight of Dawn dealt with enough, you didn’t want to add onto his troubles.

…But you also didn’t realize that meant staying locked up in this cell with General Lilia Vanrouge either.

The General wasn’t exactly happy when he first met you, and you couldn’t blame him. You just weren’t used to the open hatred from familiar eyes you would see everyday. Eyes that were always friendly to you, now burned you.

The first time you tried to provide him treatment, he had fought back until his wounds weakened him to an unconscious state. You had silently treated him then. Not a soul a witness to your tears.

As the weeks passed, the General gradually stopped fighting back, probably due to his weakening state…it didn’t shut his mouth though funny enough.

You were only let out for a change of clothes, a bath, a proper meal, and a bed to sleep in every few days. Even then, King Henrik made it seem as if that was too good for you.

You later found out it was due to the Knight of Dawn’s request that you were even allowed such accommodations. Your heart ached at the idea of what he must have gone through to get you this, as you knew King Henrik did not treat him well.

You breathed softly, you wished you could return home soon.

You were dressing a wound on Lilia when you felt him stir.

“Melea…Le…B…”

You took a wet cloth and wiped his forehead.

He must be dreaming about his family.

You knew all would be well in the future, but that didn’t mean current events didn’t affect you.

It hurt you to see so many struggle in a useless war, due to greed from one man.

Lilia clutched at his stomach, his sharp claw like nails reopening the wounds you had painstakingly bandaged.

You quickly grabbed his hands and sucked in a breath of pain. His nails dug into your skin, drawing blood. His grip could break your bones to tiny, incomprehensible pieces, but you held on.

You knew he wanted to be free and return home, to protect his loved ones. You were determined to heal him for that very reason.

“Damn it Lilia Vanrouge! You will get through this! You have so much to look forward to. So many people who love you! Now, stop being a prick and let me go so I can treat you!”

Surprisingly, he let you go. You ignored your bleeding, aching hands in order to reseal his wound.

“…will you be in that future?”

You froze, turning and looking into feverish eyes.

“Yes.”

General Lilia Vanrouge fell into a deep sleep for the next 10 days.

You were returning to Lilia’s cell when a knife was held to your neck.

“Human, where is the fae you captured?”

Ah, it seems rescue finally arrived for Lilia. It took them long enough.

You looked up into hardened, familiar eyes. Baul Zigvolt would have been a sight for sore eyes if he didn’t, you know, have a knife to your throat.

“I would gladly show you if you take that knife away.”

“You-”

“Besides, I was heading right in that direction. If you don’t want to be caught, you better hurry.”

You continued walking, listening to Baul grumble about frustrating humans. You couldn’t help the slight smile on your face as you remembered similar words said by his grandson.

You led Baul quickly and quietly to the cell that practically became a second home to you. No one in sight. You had noticed, unlike the men that the Knight of Dawn commanded, the men directly under King Henrik were…well, just like him: sleazy and lazy.

They let their guards down thinking The Right General of the Fae was too weak and couldn’t take any of them on. They even implied you were nothing but a sacrificial lamb should said Fae get angry, but of course, they would rescue you at a price.

It took you all you could not to spit in their faces or smash their heads on the wall. The self defense lessons Silver and Sebek taught you provided security that you would forever be grateful for.

It was due to this fatal thinking that Baul was able to infiltrate the base, as the men went to seek entertainment elsewhere.

When you arrived, you opened the cell door quietly so as to not hurt sensitive ears. The sun was high enough for the cell to be well lit.

You heard Baul hiss in anger before rushing to his general’s side. Lilia didn’t seem surprised to see him, telling you how he must have always known rescue would come for him.

“General!”

“Careful! You’ll-”

Baul recoiled from the burns the iron chains struck at him.

“I tried to warn you.” You shook your head. You sat next to Lilia, taking his hand in yours. From the corner of your eye, you could see Baul tense but Lilia motioned for him to remain calm.

You picked at the lock. Another thing to be thankful for, your lock picking skills, which you learned quickly from days you were locked outside of Ramshackle Dorm because Grim forgot the key or the door just wouldn’t open.

“You got it in one go this time.”

“I told you I had surprises up my sleeves. I just needed the right tools.”

“Hmm, so you say.”

Baul looked at both of you as if you both at grown two heads each. Lilia noticed his look and waved towards his feet. Where chains that should have been locked were open.

“Any longer, Baul, and I would have rescued myself.”

Baul stammered before apologizing. You turned away to hide your smile.

Within moments, the atmosphere changed. General Lilia Vanrouge had to escape and return to his men.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“You have to leave. You need to return to your troops."

Lilia clenched his jaw, looking at you. You couldn't return with him; you both knew that. It didn't stop him from trying, but you shook your head before he could even open his mouth.

"I can't go with you."

A human amongst the fae would not last long, at least not now. There was too much hatred.

You took the cuffs that had been his tormentor for so long and locked them around your hands. You chose to ignore the angry growl Lilia tried to hide at the sight of the cuffs now imprisoning you.

"I'll make it look like you escaped, now go."

"They'll hurt you."

You shook your head.

"The Knight of Dawn would never let that happen."

He knew you were right. The Knight of Dawn had visited several times, helping you treat his wounds and restrain him when the fever would have him lash out at you.

The Knight of Dawn had honor, as a fellow general and soldier, Lilia respected him for it. Lilia pulled one of his magic stones off his belt before offering it to you.

"Take this. Smash it to the ground if you need help, I'll find you."

You agreed and watched the two soldiers turn to leave. General Lilia Vanrouge hesitated before speaking, "You told me you would be in my future."

"I will be."

"You better keep that promise, YN."

"I will."

General Lilia Vanrouge and Baul Zigvolt vanished from your sight.

I'll see you both soon.

Part 3 (each part takes place after some time has passed) or can be read as a stand-alone.

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe this became a 1.5k fic, the way this bat fae drives me crazy. 😂💞🌺

[cy-cyborg]

I realised my recent paralympics posts could be read as, "i hate the paralympics" kind of stuff and thats not what i wanted. Its important to be able to critisise the things we love, and the reason why i had so many strong feelings/opinions is because i do genuinely love and care about the Paralympics and disability sports as a whole. So with the paralympics due to start in a few weeks (the 28th of August) please, if you're able to, tune in, even if it's just for the highlights.

The Paralympics themselves have a lot of issues which I already talked about, but a good amount of those issues stem from a perceived lack of interest/care from the public and the idea that "no one will care" if things arent right for us. It's much harder to justify not paying the athletes as much as their abled counterparts when they get the same publicity, it's harder for the organisers and people behind the scenes to get away with mistreatment when there's more eyes watching and more pressure to fix the issues. The athletes deserve respect, they deserve equal pay (which mostly comes from advertisers/sponsors, which depend on viewership) and their hard work deserves to be seen as more than just a funny joke or inspiration porn tear-jerker. Engage with places that treat the event and participants with the dignity it deserves.

If you're in Australia, channel 9 will be showing and streaming the highlights for free, but Stan Sports will be showing everything from every event - which is an absolutely MASSIVE thing. The entire paralympics have never been televised in Australia before, its only ever been highlights and some of the games of the more well-known sports. It sucks its locked behind a premium paywall but so was the full Olympics coverage this year, so it's not fully unique to us at least.

As for international viewers, try and find where things are for you and if they aren't being shown, put pressure on your TV networks/streaming services to include it for next time, or to include similar things like the disabled events at the commonwealth games (for those in commonwealth countries) or other global disabled sporting events - which can include sports not in the Paralympics!

[kining-the-evil]

Okay so hear me out, yandere Finnick Odair where he never lets the reader leave his house at victor's village, but somehow reader manages to escape and like reaches out to Snow because reader thinks he'll do something to help her. So Snow puts her on a train to the capital but when she gets to her room in the Presidential Palace Finnick is in there waiting her and tells her off for leaving him. Mid screaming at her he tells her that Snow ordered they get married Infront of the capital and all 12 districts so readers like offially suck with him and cant run away again.

(This was so long I'm so sorry, but I love your work sm!! ❤️)

My Pretty Little Bride

Summary: exactly what the request says

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Warnings: Yandere!Finnick, kidnapping, drugging, emotional abuse, forced marriage, very small mention of what snow forces Finnick to do.

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Hunger games masterlist. All masterlist

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Taglist: @flowercrowns-goodvibes

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Finnick greeted as he walked into the kitchen. He placed a kiss on your head before walking over to stove. “What should we do for Breakfast?”

You ignored him, staring out the window. You were curled up on the window seat that looked out on the beach, giving you a perfect view of the ocean.

“What time did you get up?” You shrugged, making him sigh. “Don’t act like that, you’re the one who messed up our morning walks.”

The morning walks. It had taken months for Finnick to trust you enough to take you out. But you fucked it up when you tried to run last week. Instead of freedom, all you got was bruises along your body from him tackling you and dragging you back to the huge house he kept you locked in.

Finnick spent the morning ignoring you, as though you were a cat curled up on the window. He made breakfast, leaving yours at your normal spot while he ate his own. He cleaned the dishes, and excused himself to shower and change, leaving you alone again.

Before a year ago you didn’t know Finnick. Sure, you knew of him, everyone in district 4 did, but you didn’t know him. You weren’t even sure if you’d ever met the man before that morning. The morning you woke up in a soft, warm bed instead of the hard one you’d gone to sleep in. When you woke up in a strangers house that would become your prison.

The sun was almost completely up by the time you heard Finnick coming back down the stairs. You finally looked away from the window, seeing him for the first time that day. He was dressed up in nicer clothing, making your heart collapse. He only dressed like that when he was going to be seen by the Capital.

“I have to go to the Capital for a few days, maybe a week, for an event." He absentmindedly told you, checking his reflection in a mirror in the hall.

"What?"

A small smile grew on his face from the shakiness of your voice. Finnick knew the only thing you hated more than being locked up here with him was being locked up here alone.

Finnick turned and walked towards you, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to tip your head up towards him. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Everything in the house is stocked, and I'll be back in a few days." He pushed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, not at all detoured by your lack of response. He gently caressed your face before stepping away with a sad smile.

You watched as he walked towards the door, and in a moment of desperation you ran at it. But of course, Finnick caught you in his large arms, swinging you both to face away from the door. "Don't you get tired of this?" He whispered against your neck while digging for something in his pocket. You hated how strong he was. Even now, as you used all of your body weight to fight against him, he only needed one arm to keep you pinned to his body. "Luckily I know you to well, my little bird. I was prepared." You caught sight of some sort of syringe, causing you to fight harder. Finnick sighed before pushing you against the wall roughly, making your head bounce against it. "Sorry, but I need you to be as still as possible." After a moment there was a sharp prick on your neck, and only seconds later your felt you fighting weaken. The room around you spun lightly as the corners of your vision went black. You went limp against Finnick as he whispered comfort into your ear. The last thing you hear being, "Just rest, little bird."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke up in your bed. The whole room was dark, and you were tucked securely into the bed. Your entire body protested as you sat up, shaking slightly from the energy it took. Your mind still foggy as you stood up. You knew what this was, some sort of sedative Finnick liked to use. It would not only knock you out but leave you someone sedated for a few hours after waking up. On shaky legs you made your way over to the window, pulling back the curtains. Outside was dark, the only light coming from the moon shinning on the ocean. You must have slept through the day.

You pulled yourself away from the window, and after becoming aware of how dry your mouth felt, you started the long journey to the kitchen. The victors house was large, but with the drugs running through your system, it felt even larger. The walk down the stairs and into the kitchen felt like it took a good hour for you to get down there.

It was exactly the same as that morning, the plate of uneaten food Finnick had left you still sat on the table and his own dishes were still in the sink. You grabbed a glass, filling it with water and gulping it down. You repeated the process, trying to get rid of the dry, sandy feeling in your throat.

After a few more glasses, you stopped for a moment to catch your breath. You looked outside, watching as the water crashed onto the beach. Like almost every other kid in district 4, you had loved the ocean and the beach, and now you felt just like you had as a child. Never allowed to go alone, being told how dangerous the water could be if you were alone, Finnick scolded you about these things the same way your mother had, like you were just an ignorant child.

You felt tears of frustration Well up in your eyes, and you truly felt like a child. You wanted to scream about how unfair it was, wanted to stomp your feat and throw things, but every time you had Finnick just laughed and watched you.

But Finnick wasn’t here. And every moment you were getting more upset, more angry, and after a moment you grabbed some random statue off the count and threw it as hard as you could.

You didn’t think about where you were throwing it, and jumped when it made a loud smashing sound, the window it had hit shattering. You froze, the kitchen in silence as you stood there, staring at the now broken window, one thought running through your head.

You had to get outside.

Despite still being shaky, you climbed onto the counter, and after a moment of struggling, you climbed out of the window. You could feel the glass cutting you in a few places, and the ground scratched your knees as you fell to the ground outside, but it didn’t matter. You were outside.

You pushed yourself to your feet, and took off running. You didn’t really have a destination in mind, but your feet led you to the beach in front of the house. You didn’t stop until the rough sand became wet and cold beneath your feet, some of it squishing up between your toes. The water splashing up against your feet as the waves came in, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m free…” you whispered, taking a step further into the water. “I’m free!” You yelled, spinning in a circle as waves of excitement rolled over you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping. You were out of that fucking house! Finally, you were free-

“Hey! What are you doing!?” A voice called out, making you stop your spinning and search for the voice. You found the source to be two peace keepers walking towards you, and you felt a new wave of relief rush over you. They would help you, get you somewhere safe.

“Please, I need your help,” you started towards them, but stoped, hands shooting up when a gun was pointed at you.

“Don’t move!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You stayed still as they walked up to you.

“What’s your name?” The older looking one questioned.

“Y/n l/n, please, I was taken from my home a year ago by Finnick Odair. He’s kept me locked up in his house for a year, but I escaped and I really need help-“

“Calm down ma’am.” The younger one spoke. “We’ll take you somewhere while we sort everything out.”

A few hours later you were sitting in the city building, the few cuts you had were wrapped up, and a blanket was brought to you and wrapped around your shoulders. No one had really spoken to you, but you didn’t mind. Just being in a different building than that damn house was comforting.

A little bit later two feet appeared in your vision and you looked up at the head peacekeeper. “Please come with me,” he instructed before turning to walk away. You quickly jumped up to follow him. You struggled to keep up for a few minutes before you finally spoke up.

“Where are we going?”

The peacekeeper slowly came to a stop before looking over at you. You couldn’t fully read his face, but he looked slightly conflicted.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but we’re taking you to the capital.”

“The Capital? Why-“

“President Snow is concerned about what happened considering it was with a victor.” The man rushed out. “Now come on, your train will be leaving in a few minutes.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The train ride, while nerve racking, was exciting. After seeing the same things day after day, the view out the train window was breathtaking. You spent almost the whole ride just sitting and watching. The only time you weren’t looking out the window you were eating the provided food.

Finnick didn’t cheep out on the food he provided at all, but what was provided on the train was beyond what you could imagine. An array of fancy food you couldn’t possibly know the names of, different meats and cheeses, soups and noodle dishes, and of course the large array of deserts. Cakes, cookies, puddings, and a sort of custard dish that you adored.

By the time you made it to the capital however, any excitement that had been rising in you had completely disappeared. You were meeting the president himself, and he was going to help you. Or you hoped he would.

The moment you stepped off of the train you were bombarded by a couple of peacekeepers who took you directly to a building where a new group of people took you. You had seen some photos of Capital citizens, but it still shocked you with how they were dressed. Over the top outfits and hair dyed colors you’d never seen before. You expected them to take you somewhere else, but instead they demanded you strip.

“What?! Why?”

“You’re meeting the president, you will look perfect.”

The next two hours were torture. The three complete strangers plucked and waxed your entire body, talking about you as though you were just an object for them to perfect. By the end of you were placed in a simple dress and your makeup and hair were done up all fancy. As you were once again led away you could hear the people who had prepared you giggling amongst themselves and you heard one say something along the lines of ‘he’ll love how she looks.’

You were led to a door and the door was opened for you. “I’m here please.” You didn’t argue and went into the room and the door was closed behind you. A small click was heard but you thought nothing of it as you walked further into the room. It looked like a large dressing room but there was also a bed on one wall.

A large vanity was set up, and glanced into it, shocked by what you said. You’d seen them adding the makeup, but you didn’t think it’d look this fancy. It looked like you were preparing for some sort of large event and your hair matched. It just confused you, why would the president, or anyone for that matter, require you to look this dressed up. And on top of that, the dress didn’t match the fanciness of the rest of you.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

You practically jumped as you quickly stood up and turned around to see Finnick coming out of a bathroom you hadn’t noticed. He was dressed in a black suit, a small white rose pinned to it. His hair was done up in the ‘perfectly messy’ look the capital loved.

Finnick started to walk forward as you took a step back, hitting the vanity. The man continued to approach you until you were trapped between him and the vanity. He reached up to brush his fingers over your cheek.

“You know, I was a little worried when I was pulled away from my duties to be told about you, but it was the best thing to happen to me.”

“I don’t understand…” you whispered.

“The president decided it would be a pefect event for the Capital darling to marry the love of his life live in front of the whole capital.”

All the color drained from your face as you realized what was happening. “No, no I don’t want to do this.”

“Too bad, what do you think is happening right now?” He motioned to the room around him. “I’m going to marry you in front of everyone and then the whole country will know that your mine, and if you know what’s good for you, you will be the perfect little wife for me.” You wanted to cry and Finnick pulled you into a hug. “Don’t cry little bird, we wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup.”

As he hugged you the door opened and a woman stepped in with a large wedding dress in toe. The woman’s appearance was as dressed up as the others you’d seen, but she had a theme. She looked to be a tiger of some kind.

“Here’s your dress.” Finnick announced as he pulled away from you. “Meet Tigeress, she’s the best designer in the country. We worked together to design your dress.”

You couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful dress. It was porcelain white with a deep neckline. The bottom of the dress had gems and seashells attached. As you studied the dress Finnick placed a small kiss to your cheek. “I’ll leave you to get ready, and I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

Before you new it you were in the dress, a bouquet of flowers were in your hands and you were walking down a long aisle as hundreds of eyes you didn’t know watched your every step, no idea that your life would end at the end of the walk. You were spaced out almost the entire time, mind barely comprehending what was happening to you. You did end up meeting the president at the reception of your wedding as he wished you a long and happy marriage.

“I’m sure the capital will live to watch your relationship, and family, grow.”

[mrkis]

⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (wednesday-sunday). requests are OPEN for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ Thank you so I was thinking that y/n could you know give him a little sexy “show” iykwim😏😏😏when he comes home from hanging out with the boys

⛧ WARNINGS: established relationship, 18+ content, strip tease, ass grabbing, finger sucking, fingering(reader fucks mark's fingers), slight dry humping,

“What are you doing?” Mark laughs lightly as you push at his shoulders to make him sit on the edge of your bed, not even greeting him with a kiss when he walks through the front door after spending a few hours with the boys, playing a few arcade games and sharing a meal for his birthday. 

Although he had fun, he wanted nothing more than to come to yours and spend the rest of his birthday with you in your arms so he was shocked when he found you in your bedroom and didn’t even kiss him for a quick hello, only leading him towards your bed with slight pushes.

But the smile still lingers on Mark’s lips as he watches you, finding you a little funny and intriguing as you walk to your desk to pick up your phone, scrolling through something and tapping the screen only for a familiar song to play from the portable speaker he had left here previously.

Mark doesn’t fight the urge to hum the song to himself, drumming his fingers against his thighs and nodding his head to the beat, but all of his movements come to a slow halt when he sees you pull at the silk robe you’re wearing, revealing his favourite set of lingerie underneath and he swallows thickly, mouth dry. 

“Wow” He gapes with a whisper, blinking at you in shock as he struggles to tear his eyes away from your chest. Mark repeats, “What are you… what are you doing?”

“Nothing” You quip with a teasing smile, allowing your body to move to the beat of the music, watching him as he closes and reopens his mouth a few times, unable to get his words out as he chokes on his own spit. Mark goes to stand up from the bed but you wag your finger at him, telling him to remain seated and his bottom lip juts out into a pout but he does as he’s told, hands curling into tight fists on his thighs as he watches.

He eyes you like a hawk, taking in your movements with deep breaths, cock hardening in his jeans and he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, wanting nothing more than to free himself of his clothes and his fingers graze over his belt buckle, but stops once again when you give him a harsh look. 

“Baby…” Mark laughs again, feeling flustered as he licks at his lips. “Are you, like, joking with me right now?”

“Not at all” Your fingers reach behind you to unclip your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders before it pools to the floor by your feet, breasts on display for him to see.

Mark groans softly, tongue prodding at his cheek as he tilts his head backwards with a sigh, rolling his eyes before looking back at you, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he shakes his head at your actions and you feel a sense of proudness and excitement seeing him so worked up from your mini performance. 

You turn your back to him, swaying your hips as your hook your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and you slide them down your legs, revealing yourself bare to your boyfriend and your lips stretches into a big smile when you hear him curse, peering over your shoulder to see his eyes zoned in on your ass cheeks, his fists twitching to touch you. 

Fully facing him, you sultry walk on over and he leans back slightly, lips curling into a grin and eyes shining as you crawl onto his lap and sit yourself down on his thighs that tense beneath you. He looks up at you, hands coming around to glide over your hips before caressing your ass, pulling you harder against him but you tut with a shake of your head.

“Stop trying to touch me” You tell him, tone light and teasing despite you meaning it and he whines as you grab his wrists to pull his hands away.

“I want to touch you” Mark says back, craning his neck to ghost his lips over yours to kiss you but he makes a noise of disappointment when you pull away from him again. “I have my girl sitting naked on top of me and I’m expected not to touch her? Baby, you know that’s, like, insane right?”

“Just be patient” You bring his hand to your mouth, littering a few soft kisses across his knuckles before pressing his fingers to your lips, his eyes widening comically when you push his index and middle finger past the plush and into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits while remaining eye contact. 

“You’re crazy” He pants. “Oh Jesus—fuck” Mark lays his fingers flat against your tongue, shuddering as he feels you suck. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pulling his spit covered fingers from your lips, you smile at him sweetly, “I’m putting on a show for my birthday boy”

Mark goes to tell you that this is torture, that he’d want nothing more than to flip you around and have you beneath him to fuck you instead of you teasing him, but his mouth drops open in shock when you drag his hand down your body and press his wet fingers to your entrance, hearing you moan so prettily as you ease them inside of you. 

He watches in awe as your fuck yourself on his fingers as if it were his cock and he resists the urge to curl them, to rip out of your grip and finger fuck you until your legs tremble around him but he’s in a trance watching you do everything yourself, moans and whines spilling from your lips that he wishes to kiss. 

“Oh my god” Mark mumbles when he feels your walls clench around him as they brush against the spot that has your body tensing above him. “Baby, let me do something. Anything”

You shake your head, breathless as you answer, “No”

“Please” His eyes are wide, filled with desperation and want, and it makes your chest spread with warmth. “Please—fuck—let me do something. Let me kiss you—” He cuts himself off with a grunt as one harsh movement of your hips has you rubbing down on his cock, making his eyes roll back at the pleasure that strikes him and he begins to babble, “You’re going to make me cum in my—shit, oh baby—please?”

“You’re so pretty when you beg” You hum, breath hitching at the back of your throat as you thrust his fingers deeper inside you, unable to control yourself as your head dips forward, resting your forehead to his.

 “I’ll beg all you want if you let me do something” He tells you quietly between his own panting due to the friction against his cock. “I’ll beg for you all night… Just let me make you feel good too”

©mrkis

[urluv69]

Task Force 141 COD

Y/N(18+ user) X Ghost

Mature content!

Carnival

It was October 31; Halloween. You didn’t normally dress up or go out for Halloween since you were normally either on a mission or too tired from a mission, but this year was different. You joined the task force 141 just under a year ago and found that they all liked to celebrate (in some way or form) holidays.

As usual, you weren’t planning on doing anything to celebrate Halloween but when Ghost invited you to a carnival, you couldn’t help but say yes. You dressed in fish neck stockings, a tiny leather skirt, a short black tank top, a red racing jacket and healed combat boots. You weren’t quite sure if it looked good or not when you arrived with Ghost but the looks people were giving said you looked hot.

The day went well with you and Ghost playing some games and carnival activities. As usual Ghost kept a stoic expression and lacked a smile but you could tell he was enjoying himself just as you were. When the time came everyone entered the large tent that had a huge stage in the middle. An odd box sat at the center of the stage but you didn’t pay any mind to it as you found two seats with Ghost.

“Ladies and gentlemen, to finish off your evening here I would like to present the annual event. As most of you have been waiting all day for this I won’t take long and will chose a lady from the audience to start us off.” The ring man standing in a flashy red suit announced through a microphone as the whole crowd roared.

It was only now that you noticed how many ladies were dressed in under garments and lacy clothes showing off more then they were covering. You couldn’t say you were covering any more than them but most almost looked as if it was intended to be taken off.

You gave a confused glance towards Ghost who was looking ahead and didn’t meet your gaze. Suddenly a white beam of light shone over you and the ring man pointed towards you. You were confused before he motioned for you to come down to the center stage where he stood.

You hesitated but did make your way down to him. “Now what is your name, doll?” You tell him your name as the crowd cheers and your cheeks flush not used to the attention being on you.

“Do you know the rules or shall I remind you of how we play here?”

“I-I don’t know the rules….”

You stammered as you nervously shifted on your feet.

“Very well. You will step into the box at the center of our ring. You will find various holes and cameras that way we can see and interact with you inside. You may exist at any given point you please by simply pressing the red button on the door. You can strip down at which ever speed you’d like and may choose who you interact with.”

You nodded as realization hit you. It was a pleasure box. You go in and others can chose to interact with you or not. You let out a shaky breath as you walk over to the box and close the door shut. Slowly, you strip off your jacket, top, and finally your skirt and fishnets. You are left in small black thongs and a black skimpy bra.

Soon enough you see something appear in one of the hole. A long, veiny, and strained cock. You sink to your knees without much hesitation and wrapped one hand around its base. You look to a screen inside the box to figure out who it was and see a tall brunette with messy hair in a fire fighter costume.

You wrap your lips around his tip and sensually swipe your tongue over. Your hand begins to pump as you start sucking harder and hollowing out your cheeks. You take him down your throat as far as you can go without chocking and pump the rest. Your tongue swirls around him as you now feel heat pulling in your core.

You should feel dirty and ashamed doing this in a semi-public scene but you don’t. It only turns you on more to think about it. Your body begins to heat up more as you feel him twitch signaling he is close. Another hole is filled to your left and another slightly shorter but thick cock is now in your view. You take your hand away from the man you are still working on and bring it to stroke the new one.

Your free hand reaches behind your back and unclamps your bra. You don’t pay mind to wear it falls and only focus on the load of cum being released into your mouth and down your throat. You swallow everything and pull away with a pop from his tip. Your one hand is still eagerly pumping the newcomers cock who you look up to the screen and see a blond, younger man dressed in a suit and tie.

It doesn’t take long before cum is dripping down your bare chest and you pull your hand back. At this point you are aching to be touched and receive any type of friction. This time when a new cock appears you stand up and shimmy out of your panties. You press your back against the wall before bending over and exposing your pussy to them as they pull back for a moment.

Conveniently there is a hand bar in front of you to hold as you glance up at the screen again. Ghost. He’s the one whose tip is circling your tight and clenching hole. He suddenly slams into you and your legs almost buckle right then and there. He fills you up perfectly as you clench around him. His thrusts are relentless as you have no time to adjust.

You’re so close already as he slams against your spongy g-spot with every thrust. You moan and can’t help your self as you reach down with one hand and rub your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you cum around him and he’s not far behind. After a moment of coming down from your climaxes, he pulls out. You lean against the wall as you manage to pull your clothes back on. You press the red button on the door and as promised it opens and you step out to see Ghost with a clear smirk.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202 

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that. 

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace. 

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

 Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys. 

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company. 

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.” 

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.” 

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy. 

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.” 

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.” 

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features. 

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders. 

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base. 

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.” 

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

 You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream. 

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t. 

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend. 

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours. 

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues. 

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

 Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you. 

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention. 

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? 

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once. 

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing. 

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too. 

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex. 

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet. 

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking. 

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating. 

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too. 

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack. 

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach. 

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@greenbaby12 @eli2447 @the-romanian-is-bae @luckyladycreator2 @lunamoonbby @angeliccks @daisydaisygoose @inky-sun @fighterpilothoe @pulisvertz @wildxwidow @angelbabyange @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @shanimallina87 @abaker74 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[theholypeanut]

Kise Ryota x Love at First Sight

Peanut’s Wheel of Fortune Event

Cw: Kise x Student Council President, gn!reader, slight swearing, Kise being delulu idiot in love, Kise’s pov, 1k words

Plot: Kise was always warned about Student Council President, but he never saw them in person, apparently they are very scary…

Event Masterlist

Kise Ryota was in trouble. 

To be exact, he was in trouble all the time, with Kasamatsu-senpai always ready to whoop his ass before a game, but after he noticed that Kise was so eager to misbehave, some of the older team members changed the strategy. They created a scary persona of a Student Council President. Or that’s what Kise thought. 

„Kise, if you don’t clean the gym today Student Council President will be very angry”

„You have no idea how angry they can be, I wouldn’t test my luck”

Kise never since he started Kajio Academy seen this mysterious person, who was apparently in their second year. 

„They are very busy, but believe me you don’t want to be on their radar: if you end up on their black list it's over for you” said Hayakawa-senpai.

„They are younger than me and I’m still having chills whenever I hear their voice” mentioned Kobori-senpai. „They have this... cold demeanor like your mom, when she is not mad, just disappointed. Nightmare”

Again, Kise didn’t take these words to heart: he felt like they just needed some scary story to make him do his chores or come on trainings on time. 

However this one day, he really fucked up. Because of the important match with Seirin coming up, he started to slack at school. He stopped listening during the classes and even with his amazing intellect, he could see his grades were just slipping. But who cares? He was never in this school for the grades anyway. 

After one of the trainings, as always, there was a crowd of his fans waiting at the entrance of the gymnasium. He was used to at least giving them a wave and a smile, so they could go home happy, fantasizing that they were the main character in the romance novel, or anything else. Ryota didn’t care: If he did it, at least everyone would stay outside of the court, otherwise the coach would scold him. But this time he saw a person coming to him with a smile, crossing the court lines. To show his good side to the team, with a bright smile he went in their direction. 

„Oh, I’m so sorry, but you cannot enter here” he said with the sweetest tone. He was surprised no one from the team yet commented anything. However, when he looked closely, Kise felt his heart dropping. He had never seen such a gorgeous human being in his life. Was it an angel? 

„However if you tell me your name, I can give you my phone number and we can meet after the training” he added flirtatiously. You sent him a smile, but it was the coldest smile he had ever seen in his life. „No need” he heard, feeling like he made some sort of mistake. „However I would like to see you after the training, Kise Ryota”

The whole gymnasium stayed silent, and at this moment blonde felt, something was up. It was not his fan? Was he in trouble? Why did it sound like a threat, not a date? However, he decided to keep it cool. He sent one of his brightest smiles. 

„Like a date? You are quite forward, I like it”

Everyone in the gym felt like the air was just sucked out of there. 

„…I will see you after you change” you said with a cold expression, turned around and left. Ryota had no idea why even his fangirls remained silent. He was just about to go in the direction of the locker room, when he felt a kick on his back, way harder than usual. 

„You are such a moron Kise!” Kasamatsu-senpai yelled. All of the crowd vanished. 

„What did I do?!” Ryota stood up with a single tear leaving his eye from the impact of the kick. 

„Did you just try to flirt with the Student Council President?!” He heard Kasamatsu screaming. Hayakawa-senpai looked at him with the fear in his eyes. „We should say our goodbyes to Kise, this might be his last day…”

Kise’s face brightened up. 

„So this is the Student Council President? You never told me they are so beautiful!” He felt a slap landing on his cheek. 

„Stop thirsting over them! What’s wrong with you?! They hate you now!”

„I think even coach could feel the shiver down his spine when they asked you to meet after the training… You are in big trouble Kise” Kobori-senpai said genuinely worried. But the blonde model was already thinking about something else. He looked at the door with a dreamy look. 

„Our wedding will be in February, on Valentine's Day…”

Kasamatsu took a swing with his hand but Kobori-senpai stopped him with a resigned look. 

„We lost him.”

He was right - Ryota wasn’t listening anymore. Till the end of the training to when he was ready to face the new love of his life, he couldn’t stop feeling his heart beating fast. Was that what people felt when they were in love? Kise never could relate to all of those girls swooning over him, but now he could feel his knees giving up just by the memory of your face. 

On his way out, his upper-class mates saluted him as he was going into the war. But Kise only looked at them excitedly and said „I plan to get their number today, wish me luck!”

And even if they felt like Ryota was going on his death sentence, they never saw him so happy an excited again, and who knows, maybe this childish arrogant basketball star is exactly what will melt your heart?

Kise did not get your phone number that day. He was scolded. But he will not give up.

Bonus:

[reflectionsofacreator]

so anyways xv has something to fucking Say about the kings of Lucis but it can't seem to actually form a fucking coherent thought to save its life.

The fact that all the kings we know the name of and see their faces are characterized by physically helping their people, either by sidequesting (Noct) sealing away daemons (Regis) healing (Ardyn) or performing quarantine (Somnus) seems to indicate that this is by design and intentional. This is further exacerbated by the main gameplay loop and draw of the game BEING the sidequests and exploring the open world, exploring every little thing and going around helping people.

So you would fucking think that this ties into how the kings of Lucis are perceived and how the game talks about them, right! You'd think that this would play into the fact that in XV the divine right of kings is worryingly literal with the fact that the Caelum house has access to magic and battle prowess that the normal person simply cannot have!

It's even worse too when you juxtapose Regis against Noctis because Regis is noted as being a rather conservative king. He's playing a losing game for the ~25 years of his rule and 'hiding' behind the New Wall, whereas the entire time you control Noctis as the new King (ch 2 onwards) he's defined by helping his citizens in times of need. He does menial tasks, and also hunting dangerous creatures that normal people can't have a hope of surviving against! A noble endeavor that highlights the themes of the game: ""many have sacrificed for the king now the king must sacrifice for all" right, right?

WRONG. This concept is NEVER FUCKING TOUCHED UPON, and yet it would be the easiest way to make the shitty plot point of Noctis dying make sense! Nevermind the fact that the game gives you very little reason to care about the world itself, let alone Insomnia and simply lacks weight about any of it's worldchanging events.

If they took even an onze of effort to connect the tie of the main gameplay loop to the narrative crux, it could've hit so much harder and better. Instead you just get told “hey Noct has to die to save the planet from the sick darkness lol” Make it his choice, rather than being told this is something he has to do by the questionable wisdom of a god who stole his face. (seriously bahamut looks almost creepily like Noctis take that as you will)

I still cannot believe the devs legit said oh yeah we knew the narrative was crap. hhh gnaws on this piece of media it sucks but i'm fucking obsessed with it.

[gacha-incels]

My current theory is that ( Puts tinfoil hat )  The ongoing gender war stuff in both CN and KR have definitely shifted how some 'waifu-collectors' see the female player base and therefore male characters in gacha games. There's definitely an ongoing narrative that women are the root of toxicity and more devs should adopt the waifu-only policy to appeal to as few women as possible and gatekeep their safe havens. The irony is that most of these people advocating to exclude women are using the vocal minority for their examples as to why, which is exactly what they don't want done to themselves. Basically, women should only play Love and Deepspace and men can play GFL2/AL/Snowbreak/Nikke etc. As long as women 'stay in their lane' they are satisfied, even though it's been shown that both men and women will pull for characters of the opposite gender and vice versa. Mixed cast games are trying to err on the side of caution because if they don't appeal to this crowd enough (by skewing the gender ratio harder, or by making more fanservice designs) then they will be brigaded on social media for appealing too much towards women or radical feminists.

omg yeah I feel like “gamer” men say this outright around the world from east to west. “women are coming into our games and making the women less sexy and everything more toxic” etc. attitude has ramped up. though it was always bad if you remember, in the west at least, the absolute insane violent tantrum reaction to Anita Sarkeesian for making like I cannot stress this enough just pretty basic feminist videos about video games. It was like seeing grown adult men have the same type of screaming tantrum a toddler would have when you tell him he can’t have an expensive toy at the store. except instead of one kid sitting on the floor screaming it was an unbelievable amount of men worldwide sitting in their computer chairs screaming and writing graphic rape threats and making full video games where you violently beat her. For the crime of just one woman talking about fucking Mario or whatever. THIS is how these men react when you do something as benign as that. I posted some more about this here.

you have no idea the insane shit that gets blamed on female fans or female employees of mixed sex gachas. A lot of that has been already posted here obviously so I’ll post something new I saw just so we can archive some more examples. Recently one of my friends from the infrared blog I sometimes repost here showed me this strange phenomenon happening on the Genshin impact leaks subreddit where a good amount of guys were accusing the developers of the game of being fujoshis because they thought a new female water character was being nerfed so that a previously released male water character would be the strongest water character. I thought this was a joke (my mistake) but it spanned a LOT of comments and got extremely heated. Later I found these comments in another thread there

Like this is the thought process. This sucked -> ok so probably a woman wrote it -> well most writers graduated from liberal arts schools, and most liberal arts students are women, so it was definitely a female writer. This is how easy it is for this type of “gamer” male to blame anything they hate on women. They did this for one of the stories in HSR that was disliked as well. If you look up “有男不玩” there are videos on bilibili but also some on YouTube where you can get snippets of how these guys are thinking about female gacha players. They share some similarities with all gamer men who think women are more frivolous, unskilled and don’t like action games. there were particular comments that reminded me of how Korean incels wrote about women, in that games should stop pandering to us altogether because we don’t have enough money, or if we do have money it’s because it’s coming from a boyfriend or male relative, or we’re all just playing f2p. ironically a huge amount of merch sales, IRL events and fan-PR like fanart comes from female players and they are usually the ones to stick around the longest I believe, but these guys only understand the money aspect of these games.

There are a lot of ones that were interesting but I don’t want to use too many since I was working with MTL, and then looking up individual phrases, and then retranslating some, and then looking up context, etc. lol. so when I have a better grasp on this I can make a better post.

in regards to how they find it ok if the games are sex segregated yes exactly,I posted about this earlier and probably a couple months ago too but this was most recent so it’s easiest to just copy here

[hood-ex]

Your post about that dialogue from Gotham Knights (the game) made me think back on how much I miss Bruce and Dick's relationship tbh. Like obv it was never the healthiest thing ever, and Bruce was always emotionally constipated, but it always felt a little more... equal? Recently it's just felt so toxic, like Bruce will be an asshole, and Dick will be hurt by it but will still come back to him and will remove the burden of Bruce apologizing for anything from him. Like the scene between them in Nightwing 100, where Bruce is rightfully apologizing for his crap and Dick says he doesn't have to. I do like that scene (even if it was over the top), but that's not right. Like, no sir, he has a lot to apologize for lmao. But that's literally been their dynamic for so long. Whenever Bruce should be called out, Dick just forgives him and Bruce goes back to doing the same old shit again, and Dick forgives him again, and rinse and repeat.

Honestly, it feels like whoever wrote those scenes took a look at that one meme of Batman slapping Robin and said "hey, they like that, let's do that!" Like, you can't go a long time without Bruce hitting Dick. Because they think fans eat that shit up ig. They are so attached to their shock value Bruce and Dick fights and their image of brooding Bruce that they won't address their fucked-up relationship and won't change the status quo. We have gotten many scenes of them being great together and having sweet moments, but those all feel tainted by the rest of it. It's as recent as the amnesia arc where Bruce re-traumatized Dick and then didn't help him when he was living in his car and then pretty much emotionally manipulated him to become Nightwing again. Recent comics really have forgotten what Batman is about.

And it sucks, because Dick is my fave of all faves, but I also love the hell out of Bruce Wayne, and it's so sad to see him be reduced to this... only brooding, borderline abusive asshole. They won't let him grow or develop. I don't mind conflict, and I like that they have a complicated relationship. I didn't even mind Bruce punching Dick, because it's interesting. Once was fine, twice was fine, the same thing happening all the time without addressing it and with no change across years is kind of a problem. I'm only keeping up with the Nightwing run out of loyalty to my boy, but from what I've heard of the events that are happening outside of that, it seems that they are having issues again, and I'm waiting for the next Batman issue that features Nightwing to also feature another punch or something. It's always Bruce being coddled by the story and never being asked to make the step forward, it's always Dick that has to give in and make Bruce feels better about his flaws and free him of any responsibility for his actions even when it's time for Bruce to step up and grow up.

It's why I prefer the animated adaptations or the retellings. I think world's finest did a good job with their relationship, I feel like Robin: Year 1 from back in the day did too, and Young Justice animated for its many flaws has a solid dynamic between them. They still have a complicated relationship, but it isn't so dramatically awful. It allows for a more balanced and well-rounded portrayal of the character when you aren't pandering to some people by flanderizing the character ig. Anyway, sorry for ranting, you're like my fave Dick Grayson blog so I just wanted to share. Hope this wasn't a bother.

No yeah I hated that aspect of Nightwing #100. If TT wanted to do a scene like that, he should’ve built up a conflict between Dick and Bruce to give us some context as to some type of thing Bruce actually needed to apologize for. Then he could’ve had Bruce apologize, Dick accept the apology, and end it with that reconciliation.

Instead, he just had Bruce apologize like, “I’m sorry I failed you, I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t proud of you,” which would’ve hit much harder if, again, they had shown some kind of recent conflict between Bruce and Dick to warrant that sudden apology. And for Dick to then express his own hurt and such over said conflict. And then for them to come to some reconciliation. But yeah it’s very unsatisfying for Bruce to just list things he’s sorry for, and for Dick to hug him and just reassure Bruce. Like nooo let Bruce feel bad. Let Dick feel bad because of what Bruce did to him. Let Dick be angry. Let them both hurt. Then let them heal.

As for the amnesia arc, I feel like they really did a disservice to Bruce by not focusing enough on his trauma from the sniper incident. If they really stressed how much it traumatized him and then showed how his actions were effected by that (like giving him a dire need to have Dick return to normal bc otherwise it’s like Dick just died in his arms on that rooftop) then that is much more sad and compelling, and we can at least kind of see where Bruce is coming from by showing Dick the sniper video (though it would’ve been better if they just… hadn’t done that all).

If I had been writing that issue, I would’ve had it from Bruce’s POV where he would’ve constantly been in a state of flashbacks. Like seeing his parents getting killed and then comparing it to Dick getting shot. And then having flashbacks of Dick when he was younger but then Bruce imagining that Dick keeps getting shot in the head in each of those memories. And all of that literally just like… pushing Bruce over the edge. And then of course when Dick wakes up and asks Bruce “Who are you?” Bruce spirals even further. And we see his descent to this very isolated and dark place where he just wants his son back at all costs. That would’ve been waaaaay more interesting. Extremely dark ofc. But interesting.

Yeah the comic Dick and Bruce relationship can definitely be toxic (and I’m not totally opposed to that bc I think it makes things interesting between them), and there are animated shows that show them in a more balanced light. The Batman (2004) is one of those shows as well. Dick was Robin then ofc, and Bruce wasn’t so dark at that point in life. But when you watch shows like that, it reminds you of the character Bruce is supposed to be, and it reminds you of what you like the most about him. So definitely nice to watch shows like that sometimes to remind yourself of the Bruce Wayne that exists outside of modern comics.

[skyward-floored]

.... I'd love to see Hyrule's perspective on that whole scene, if you ever want to write it 👀 (absolutely ZERO pressure tho!!!!)

- hero-of-the-wolf

I didn’t want to fight my way through an action scene, so I actually skipped to a bit later, while their parents are being yelled at interrogated for their version of events. So it’s not the exact moment. It’s technically not even in the movie. But I think it’s good anyway.

For people who haven’t seen the second movie in a while, this is right bear the beginning, when the family tried to stop the Underminer and kind of failed, then get sort of arrested because they’re supers and that’s still illegal.

(tw for discussion of guns, and implied past child abuse)

————————————————————

Hyrule chewed on his thumb nail, pressed into a corner of the small room in the police station they’d been herded into. There was a single table and two chairs in here, no windows, and what was obviously a one-way mirror on the wall. Four and Legend had already claimed the chairs, so everyone else was on the floor, or leaning on the table.

The rest of his siblings were mostly milling around the small space, though Wind and Wild had started a rock paper scissors tournament. They were trying to drag Legend and Four into it, with limited success.

Hyrule maybe would have joined them, but his thoughts were too loud, his hands too shaky for the game. Mom and Dad hadn’t come with them in here, they’d been pulled away to some other room while they’d all kept going. And while Hyrule hadn’t been able to see much, he’d seen Impa around, and the man in the suit who’d followed his parents into the room had looked extremely annoyed.

Were they okay? Were they just getting yelled at, or worse?

Were they going to be put in jail?

Hyrule bit down harder, rubbing his tooth along the pad of his thumb. He used to just suck on it when he was smaller, but he’d had the habit more or less beaten out of him. He knew his family wouldn’t care now, but it still felt safer just nibbling on the tip.

“Hyrule?”

Hyrule jumped at the hand on his shoulder, and looked up at Twilight, who was sitting next to him with a concerned look.

“Are you okay? You weren’t hurt in the fight, right?” he asked, and Hyrule shook his head.

“No. Just some little bruises,” he replied quietly, and went back to chewing on his thumb. “Are... do you know what’s gonna happen?”

Twilight breathed out, and leaned against the wall, watching Wind pump his fist as he beat Legend in a match. “Not exactly, no. But Mom and Dad will be okay. And us too. There’s a reason the whole superhero protection thing exists.”

Hyrule swallowed, and looked away as one of his worries came to the forefront of his mind. “Is there... an adopted super protection thing?”

Twilight blinked, then looked at him, understanding crossing his face. “Oh, Hyrule, is that what you’re worried about?”

Hyrule gave a tiny nod, and Twilight scooted over, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“They can’t take you away from us,” Twilight said reassured, eyes sharp. “They won’t. I remember Dad reading all kinds of laws about it, they can’t do that. And even if they tried, we wouldn’t let them. I’m sure the protection program covers that too, don’t worry.“

Hyrule nodded, relieved at the assurance, but still feeling unsettled. This room was oppressive, and the concrete was starting to dig into his spine. Not to mention... other stuff.

“...Something else bothering you?” Twilight asked after a minute, and Hyrule shrugged.

“I just haven’t had a gun pulled on me in a while,” he murmured, remembering just how many weapons had been pointed at them earlier today. He’d completely frozen at the clicks he’d heard. “I mean, at the island yeah, but that was kinda different. I guess I just forgot how sc—...startling it could be.”

Twilight went very still.

A few feet away, Wild crowed in victory as he destroyed Wind’s rock with his paper.

“Hyrule,” Twilight said in a voice quiet enough that only he could hear it, “how often have you had a gun pulled on you?”

Hyrule went back to his thumb again. He had a feeling Twilight didn’t actually want to know the answer to that question. Especially since Hyrule didn’t really... know the exact number. So he kept his mouth shut, and merely gave him a little shrug.

That was obviously the wrong answer though, since Twilight’s face screwed up, and his jaw tightened.

“Twi, it didn’t happen that often, it’s just bad memories, don’t worry about it,” Hyrule begged, suddenly nervous Twilight would do something. He wouldn’t yell at a police officer, would he?

“It’s not just— you—” Twilight struggled for a second to speak, face tight. He pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, looking a lot like their father as he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “...you know how messed up that is, right? That you’ve had guns pulled on you by people who were supposed to take care of you?”

“I do. It’s just not a huge deal, Twilight,” Hyrule sighed, going back to nibbling at his thumb. “It is what it is. Or was. Whatever.”

“It’s still messed up,” Twilight muttered, and squeezed Hyrule a little tighter. “...All of this is.”

Neither of them said much after that, and Hyrule set his head on Twilight’s shoulder, relieved at something other than concrete for a cushion. The rest of their brothers continued with rock paper scissors, and Twilight and Hyrule watched in near-silence, Twilight lightly rubbing his shoulder.

The worry for their parents and the situation at a whole sat over the room like a shroud, dampening even Wind’s smiles.

But I’m not alone, Hyrule thought, a brief wave of relief sweeping over him. He leaned a little more against Twilight, and his brother squeezed him in return.

At least we’ve got that.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Into The Woods

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

*This is pretty much straight up filth so 18+, minors please do not interact!!! you will be blocked! (:

Summary: You and Joel get some much needed alone time while on a hunt in the woods

or i just needed to get out my thots about Joel fucking you against a tree (:

Warnings: smut, unprotected piv, outdoor sx, just me being absolutely feral for Joel Miller (: <3, takes place after the events of the first game so like a mild spoiler ? at the very beginning if you haven't watched the finale, but otherwise spoiler free

WC: 900

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing for Joel so i'm sorry if it sucks, pls be kind <3

dedicating this to the lovely @sebsxphia for always indulging me and my Joel thots <3

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It's been a few weeks since permanently settling in Jackson. A reprieve after months spent on the road with Joel, escorting the 14-year-old girl who had become family to you both, across the country. Months spent in close quarters, the three of you just trying to survive.

Even now, in your new home, you and Joel don't get a ton of alone time living with Ellie. There are nights in your shared bedroom of course, but the walls are thin and you're never able to be as loud or uninhibited as either one of you would like to be when you're both busy worrying about waking Ellie who's sleeping in the next room.

Nights where Joel’s thrusts are stilted, hips stuttering against yours, his rough hand covering your mouth to quiet your moans that he oh-so-badly wants to hear. So many nights wishing that you could give in fully to that primal need you feel for one another, the both of you just left wanting more.

It's lots of lingering touches in the daytime, feeling the intense warmth of Joel’s brown eyes burning into you almost at all times as you go about your mundane day-to-day activities. You watching the way his deft fingers gently stroke the strings of the guitar that he’d fixed up and wishing they were stroking you instead. The tension between you thick and palpable, the two of you craving each other immensely.

That tension finally snaps when you and Joel are out in the woods one warm, sunny day, outside of Jackson hunting for food. He's walking behind you, unable to pay much attention to anything but the curve of your ass in your jeans with every step you take through the desolate forest. Joel needs to have you immediately, and his calling your name in that husky Texan accent has you turning to face him in an instant.

He wastes no time lifting you up in his strong arms, dropping both of your guns to the ground—he knows there’s nobody around these woods for miles—and pressing you up against the trunk of the closest tree that stands tall next to you. A small ‘oof’ sounding from you as your back hits the hard wood, your arms moving instinctively to wrap around Joel’s shoulders, legs around his waist and he’s kissing you breathless.

It’s quick and dirty and rough, both of your jeans frantically pulled down just enough for Joel to slip inside of you in one quick thrust, knowing you’re more than wet enough because you’ve been yearning for this just as much as he has. You cry out at the stretch, burying your face in the crook of Joel’s neck as strong hands grip your thighs to hold your body up. Giving you a moment to adjust, his hips keep you pressed tightly to the bark of the tree as he ruts into you.

It’s only a matter of seconds before he’s pounding into you roughly, pulling nearly all the way out, and slamming back into your wet heat with every thrust, his cock hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing spots in your vision and makes your toes curl. Your breathless whines and whimpers, pleas of ‘harder, Joel’ mingling in the fresh woodsy air with Joel’s deeper grunts that are right next to your ear and going straight to your core.

Joel knows you’re close when your velvety walls begin to clench around him, nearly strangling his length in a vice-like grip as the volume of your quiet cries rises into louder moans. Finally getting to hear you cry out for him the way he’s been wanting you to for so long only spurs on his movements, quickening the pace of his hips and fucking into you harder.

Rough hands grip the soft flesh of your thighs so tight you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. Joel’s lips trail kisses along the skin of your neck as one of his hands moves to bring his fingers to your clit, the calloused pads rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nerves. You cling onto him for dear life, nails digging into the strong muscles of his shoulders and thighs squeezing tighter around his hips.

“Wanna hear you, darlin’. Let go for me. Can be as loud as you want for me out here, baby.”

Joel’s words have you coming around him with a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a scream, your walls clenching impossibly tighter around him and triggering his own high. Joel thrusting one, two, three more times before his hips still against yours, pressed as deep as possible inside of you as he spills into you with a deep, throaty groan.

He fucks the both of you through it, your oversensitive walls still fluttering around him, Joel’s thrusts slowing and only coming to a stop when he’s fully spent.

He keeps you in his hold, head resting on your shoulder as your fingers card through his thick, graying curls. The both of you panting heavily as you come down from your highs, breathless words whispered against your sweat-shining skin.

“Did so good for me, baby girl.”

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idk what this was, the Joel thots have taken over my brain like the cordyceps virus and turned me into a feral monster (:

Thank you for reading! x

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[dadsbongos]

a nice place, the seedy pub

1k words / warnings - wet n messy (beer on u), unprotected pinv, whitney's a dickhead

summary - your boyfriend isn't the sweetest, but when Whitney said you'd be going somewhere special you didn't think he'd bend you over the table.

kinktober: day eight - sploshing, public sex shout out @maniacpixiedreamboy for getting me into the game ~~~

Whitney has a tight arm around your shoulder. Mugs of beer sit around the table, water pooling against lacquered wood, all surprisingly full for the gang of boys. Still frothy and shimmering. Whitney’s hand slips unceremoniously from your arm, around your collar, and over your neck. He flexes around your throat and presses a toothy kiss to your cheek while his other hand darts for the thigh you’ve got squished against his.

“Enjoying date night, slut?”

Right, as a treat for five tumultuous months together you were promised a nice evening. A proper date night.

“It’s, ehm, it’s been eventful,” you nod, leaning into your boyfriend’s harsh grip.

Despite your attempt at soothing his erratic temper, Whitney reaches over and jerks you into his lap -- both hands bruising you down onto his hardening cock. Then he’s yanking sharply at your hair, lips pillowing against the shell of your ear, “You want eventful? I can fuckin’ give you eventful, but you’re gonna be part of the show.”

Spreading your legs for better movement, you roll your ass back against him with both hands gripping the scratched wood. Whitney’s approval comes in the form of a stiff groan drowned into the lip of his beer mug. His friends still hear the muffled sound, eyes flicking toward the blonde and hands inching toward yours on the table. Whitney’s grasp on your hip tightens, warding off any ideas of slipping from his lap.

He presses his chest suffocatingly against your back, nipping your lobe, “I’m gonna fuck you on this table, and everyone’s gonna watch.”

To avoid irritating your beau, you slink your bottoms aside -- gaze darting around the room to see if anybody’s taken notice. Only Whitney’s friends stare, eyes piercing where Whitney shucks his sweatpants down just enough to expose his girth. Blushing tip and shining wet, he slides his wrist once, then twice, before tapping the head against your hole. 

A sharp breath sucks between your teeth, a single moment of respite before he slams you down onto him. Scream hitching in your throat, Whitney grumbles out appreciation of your body as he bottoms out -- then standing with one hand glued to your hip and the other planted around you on the table. Fingers splayed wide. Now a gaggle of foreign heads turn toward your display. You hang your head and bite your lip praying to keep the attention limited.

Prayers immediately soiled as Whitney fucks into you, stretching you open while burrowing his face into the junction of your shoulder. Searing open mouthed kisses along your skin.

The force of his thrust jostles his friends beers, table loudly clanging against its bolts. 

“Whitney!” you slur as he fondles your chest, “Not so crazy…”

“Huh?” he glares down at you, pulling out to slam even harder inside you and reveling as you squeal from the impact, “You trying to say something to me, slut?”

His next thrust is so rough it knocks his own beer off kilt, golden brew spilling over the table. 

“Whitney!” you cry. Shock, irritation, and pleasure swirling into one lilting call.

With an agitated scoff, Whitney shoves you down into the spreading puddle -- cold immediately electrifying your chest. White school shirt soaking, now see through and reeking of sour beer. His friends cackle and jeer, leaning over the table to prod your cheeks and sizzle your face with their dewy mugs. Tipping the lips toward your hairline just to listen to your mewls of disapproval choked by euphoria. 

Some froth manages to tickle your skin, dampening your hairline. 

“Whitneyyy,” you croon, kicking back at his calves, “Make them stooop!”

“‘Make them stop,’” he mimics, wringing both your arms behind your back and squeezing one large hand around your wrists, pushing your back into an arch with the other, “You’ll take what you get, and you’ll be fuckin’ scream for it.”

Scream, you do, as one of the most familiar faces in Whitney’s crowd -- a slim kid with freckles -- takes initiation to all out dump his beer along your curved spine. Coincidentally spasming around Whitney’s cock, rearing a snicker from the blonde.

“D’you like that?” he slurs, “That’s a new low, whore, even for you.” 

“N-no…!” you wail pathetically, trying to lift yourself from the table with a grotesque, sticky peel. Regardless of your efforts, Whitney maintains his bind around your arms -even sick enough to use it as leverage and yank you back into his sharp hips.

A crowd forms, wide lingering eyes and cameras flashing. They chant for Whitney to drown you -in beer or cum, it doesn’t seem to matter- to fuck you harder to rip your clothes off.

Crudely licking alcohol raw off your neck and up to your damp cheek, Whitney teases, “Should I? Just expose your slutty body for the whole pub to see? Would you like that, babe?”

You groan, shaking your head rapidly because you can’t trust your own mouth. Broken moans and choppy ‘huh, ah, ah, hng’s all you can spit out as Whitney’s cock batters deep inside you. 

Maybe, for just a moment, his heart softens at the refusal, as he’s then sitting back down still buried in you and muttering, “I’m not getting kicked out over a slut.”

He kisses your shoulder, though, while his hands encourage you to lift and drop.

Face blistering red, he presses into the booth, still eagerly thwacking his hips off the seat to hump your sex. A drunken grin overtakes his features as your squealing grows louder. Proudly proclaiming that you’re a real slut for cummin’ in front of everyone like this.

But if he didn’t like it, you wouldn’t be here, right?

He quickly amends, “That’s my babe!” squeezes your frantic thighs as you clench around him in a series of moans and gasps, “So fuckin’ good for me!”

“Whit’,” you sputter, flinging your soaked back into his chest. He wraps his arms around you as you thrash and fucks the last of your orgasm free, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Knew you were still my slut,” he sounds downright ecstatic to husk that in your ear.

You guess he should be, though. Not just anyone would let Whitney soak them in beer and fuck them in front of the bar.