#i received games in exchange if anyone is wondering

[raycatz]

some more LU things that throw me for a loop,,

An artist I follow, wilimia, started a LU dnd AU, and then mentioned wanting to make it it's own thing. Shortly after, they received an ask,

"I'd be down for un lu-ing the dnd boys cause I got lu blocked ad hate how it affects most links meet aus, so yeah. If you do that I'd reach non lu audience. Most loz fandom doesn't follow lu blogs"

and idk, I get it, but it's also hard to read. So much of Wilimia's art is LU. It seems like something they found, and still do, find joy in creating for--and for years, too--longer than I've been in the fandom. "Most loz fandom doesn't follow lu blogs." Most loz fandom wouldn't have any interest in the majority of the art Wilimia's shared? Anon would prefer it to be non-lu? It reads to me a little like putting down or dismissing the art just because it's LU. Wilimia's art is amazing. I admire it so much. Their ideas are wonderful, too. And like many other pieces of LU fanart, there's a lot of exploration of comparing and contrasting the games, or analyzing the games, borrowing the LU cast, without explicit connection to the events of the comic itself. So much incredible creativity missed, because it is LU. LU's not for everyone. To each their own, I guess.

But I feel like so much interesting insight into the games is lost if LU fanwork is disregarded simply for being LU.

I also struggle with feeling like I have to choose an audience. I have ideas for pre-LU comics that would tell stories of fun moments from the games, during an adventure--but I want to use the LU heroes because I care more for those interpretations of Link. I'm blending my own game experience and opinion of that Link with what's been provided by the fandom.

I think the stories are fun and worth sharing! However, what tag do I use? It's the Linked Universe design and character, but it's also me, but it's also not Linksmeet or the LU adventure, really. It's LU, it's not LU, it's gen loz, it's both. And yet you'd get scolded for posting LU in the gen loz tags. I feel as though I must choose a side.

For example: there's a moment in OoS where a woman asks you to help her in exchange for a shovel. I got the shovel and then immediately dug up the entire map chunk surrounding her house. It would make for a good comic! But do I make it LU inspired or gen loz? I'd probably use a slightly more generic design for Link (Legend) anyways because he would be younger. Honestly, I could probably get away with barely changing the design at all, tag it as gen loz, and be praised for it.

There's a huge double standard when it comes to LU and Linksmeets. Both argue that not everyone has played all the games. All the interpretations and designs are unique and, at times, should be read as their own aus without worrying too much about adherence to the game or specific comic canon. Characterization and knowledge varies by writer. At the same time, no one person owns specific design elements or traits. Don't worry too much about being too similar. Let people make what they want. Every new instance adds to the wider understanding of the character and is therefore valuable.

Yet, by the people who dislike LU and its fandom and favor other Linksmeets, in LU fandom it's seen as an excuse, and in Linksmeets and gen loz it's seen as a strength.

The character of my comic could barely be LU Legend, and yet if it is LU even in name only, it is disregarded and unwelcome. The character could draw strong influence from Jojo's designs or LU fandom, and if I change one thing only but claim it as my own, it would be praised and defended.

Analysis and discussion in the LU fandom (especially from around 2020) brought me a better appreciation and understanding of the heroes and game similarities then any other kind of online fan created material had.

So for my mini comic- and going off of the anon's ask- what do I do?

I want my work to be seen. I feel like it is valuable to be seen by anyone who enjoys the games. I want to inspire people who see the comic to think more about the games and to create. I don't particularly care through what lense they connect with my gen loz / nebulously LU work--if they apply the situation to their own game experience, gen loz, or to any Linksmeet--if my work has connected with someone- has broadened someone's understanding of a game or character- then my goal has been met. Obviously use the correct tags and credit where credit it due, but if I am making pre-adventure or gen loz stuff, then I want to inspire. Write fic! Add the headcanon to your own! Just like- if you make something based off an idea of mine, include me! We are all building off of each other's stories. It is all inspiration. It's all the same soup.

There is no Linksmeet element. And yet, in my heart, I know the character will become some personal variation of LU Legend, influenced by a variety of fanwork, because that's the interpretation I favor.

If it's tagged gen loz it reaches the broader loz and Linksmeets audiences. If it's tagged LU then it stays within the sub fandom I know and care for. The thing is--it's a pre-adventure story, so it's not solidly one or the other. I don't want to tag it gen loz and have LU fans feel they aren't allowed to think of it as LU Legend. I don't want to tag it as LU and have it be missed by so many people, or have gen loz / linksmeet fans feel they aren't allowed to think to think of it as their own characters either. However, also, why should I be creating for an audience who would disregard so much of my and other's works?

Mina of Mina's Linkverse's recent posts have thrown me for a loop again. She's shared a headcanon post about Twilight Princess Link that delves into how Link, given his background in Ordon, might feel about turning into a wolf. What struggles, but also acceptance and joy, can be found in it. It's beautiful. I'd love to add it as another perspective into my understanding of TP Link--both solely within the game context and also more broadly across a variety of Linksmeets. It's one more way to further appreciate things I already enjoy. However, Mina opened the post with "Dont tag as L/U". Okay, don't tag, but am I allowed to borrow this and apply it to LU Twilight? I relate to it most strongly through that lense. It's a general loz post, and LU is loz. What if I were to apply it to Mina's Fangs, or Em's Wolf, or Frulle's Twilight? If I were to write a LU fic or draw a comic and tagged Mina as inspiration would she take offense? Would it be less of an offense if it was anything but?

Am I as a LU fan allowed to take inspiration from this and put it into LU fanwork? What about LU fanwork that goes more strongly into exploring these themes or situations from the games instead of the comic itself?

It just feels kind of feels like a whole perspective or group is being excluded. I feel like I am being excluded and that I am unwelcome. But, maybe that's just me being an entitled LU fan who thinks everything belongs to them and needs to learn to stay in their lane.

I've considered making multiple versions of the same comic. One that uses the LU design and tag, and one that does not, so that I'm able to reach and be appreciated by both audiences. But, I don't want to have to choose. There would be no difference in the comic but character design and name. And yet, that's all the means necessary to be completely disregarded.

[vixy-exists]

Demonica Yukari - a thank-you gift for my friend @thechewieone!

You can't see it much (due to the picture being tiny) but here, have the noise filter ones

[0scxmlqrd]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 lovestruck

; in which [name] [surname], a woman with existential crisis, finds the meaning and purpose of her life—for her, player 120.

pairing: player 120 | cho hyun ju x f! reader

warning: slight angst, out of character (?), etc.

author's note: so thirsty for a player 120 | cho hyun ju x reader fanfiction I overcame my writer's block that's been goin' on for years now, lol.

YOU have no purpose in life—you believed. Well, at least that's what you'd made yourself think ever since you could remember.

You frequently would ask yourself why were you even here and what's the use of existing in this world full of nothing else but suffering.

You've tried to search it on the internet once, asked people in different online forums. Other than a hotline or basically the searching app telling you to call a therapist, you received some decent answers, but still, you couldn't get yourself to believe any of the answer they provided.

All you know is that one thing they have in common is that they are—

Subjective.

It depends.

In all honesty, you don't even know why you keep on living. Yet you've never tried ending it. You hate the feeling of pain, you hope that if you're ever going to die, it must be a quick and painless one.

The time you've spent questioning your existence turns much more worse than you had expected as in the process of finding your purpose, you lost your sense of self.

You don't know who you are anymore.

No wonder you ended up as a failure. Too lazy to finish college, jobless sprinkled with no motivation in life, no money but debt that kept piling up as each days pass by—the debt collectors are likely going to collect and sell your organs to the black market as soon as they find you.

But that's not what you fear.

Luckily, you don't have anyone that would be disappointed in you since you're all alone. An orphan, you are.

That's probably why you ended up being slapped by a random stranger on the train station over losing to a game only children would play. And what do you get in exchange? Money, of course. You have dignity of course, but when it comes to money, well... gone.

There's nothing much more important in this world than money. People who loved to claim "love" is only spouting nonsense.

Love wouldn't fill your empty stomach.

You were getting pissed playing the game you kept on losing. Your cheeks were already numb from how cruel each slap the man had been sending you.

Was it worth it? Should you quit?

Maybe just one last game and you'll get that money. Then you'd get yourself something good tonight in compensation to the sore and swollen face you'd have to endure tomorrow.

"Congratulations, you won!"

The man's clap echoed in the station. You nodded, although happy that you won, you couldn't smile as a small cut that you wondered how could it be so painful.

He handed you the money—you didn't thank him, his slap absolutely hurts, no way you're thanking him.

The man then asked you whether you want to play a game. You almost cursed him out loud after he recited your personal information out loud correctly, creep.

But after that, he handed you a card.

And you took it.

You need money to survive for tomorrow.

That's how you ended up in here.

A large, open space with large walls acting as barriers from the outside world. In front of everyone was a gigantic doll, towering everyone even from afar.

You wondered what game it was.

A sound coming from a speaker in an unknown location echoed all over the place, explaining the mechanics of the games—how to win and how you will get eliminated.

You wondered how they were going to sort out everyone who loses when there's literally hundreds of people currently.

Your eyes wandered from around the place onto each of the players your eyes could find, trying to familiarize with everyone—who knows, they might turn out to be your enemy in the future games.

Boring.

You thought to yourself as you scanned their faces. That was until your eyes came to an abrupt stop from a certain player not close behind you. You've heard of people like her, but you've never seen one in person. They must've gone through a lot for having the courage to be what they are in this country.

She seemed to felt your gaze on her and you two made eye contact. She smiled slightly at you slightly nodding her head.

Awkward, you felt. Flustered at the attention you were receiving from him. Then, another thought came through you, 'She's quite the looker,' to which you immediately shrugged off, shifting your eyes away from her to your front once again.

'Focus,' you scolded yourself. Changing your complete attention on your current and only goal—to win this game and spend every single money to yourself until you get sick tired of it.

Your thoughts were then cut short when a crazy uncle suddenly started shouting. He was basically saying that this game kills the people who lose and how everyone must listen to the rules so they could live.

Green Light!

He shouted for everyone to go and you ran as fast as you can.

Red Light!

He shouted to stop and everyone, including you, stopped. This continued smoothly until you heard a woman's scream.

Then, a loud bang echoed.

Then, a thud.

And then everyone around that woman turned chaotic. Everyone was panicking, screaming and running around. But slowly, each scream—both men and women— slowly counted down while loud bang you believed to be coming from guns shot them down each.

Good thing you followed what the crazy uncle said although it was unbelievable at first.

You thought you'd be fine as long as you follow his order. Much to your dismay, there were some factors you forgot to think of.

Green Light.

Some of the people on your side were also panicking, they started running faster. Their adrenaline finally getting through them so much that some people behind you got ahead of you.

You bit your lower lip, getting ready to sprint, collecting every single ounce of your energy. But suddenly, a woman behind you crashed onto you, causing you to trip and fall down.

'B*tch, you better not make me see you or—'

People started trampling over you. Some tripping on the process. It's painful, incredibly. Your losing more time, you knew. You cursed yourself silently for losing on the first game. Hell, you knew your dead once the timer runs out.

Nothing else could be done but curl yourself, protecting your vulnerable sides. But still, it was still painful.

You thought the pain would never end, the gigantic robotic doll still hadn't said red light and you're losing hope on whether you'd survive these people, and even if you did, you're probably going to arrive late.

To your surprise, you stopped feeling pain—but no signs of people stopping on their run. You frowned, confused as to how this happened. Maybe one of them hit your head, making your sense of pain go off.

But no, you felt someone on your back, their body covering yours.

Who?

A shadow, larger than yours was right above yours. Curious to the identity of the person, you looked up.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

The person stood up, looking right ahead and back down onto you, "Are you alright?"

It was the same pretty woman you met eye contact before, "Can you walk? We need to hurry up before the timer runs out"

You ignored the soreness around your body, "I can walk just fine, but I'm probably slower than before. You can go ahead—"

"No, let's go together. Here," she offered her hand, "C'mon, we don't have much time left!"

Time seems to slow down, your eyes glued at the figure above you, "O-Okay!"

You grabbed her hand, stood up and ran as fast as you can.

Despite the chaotic surroundings, you paid no mind to them. Your eyes were completely glued to the short-haired woman in front of you. Huh? The pretty stranger claimed that the time was running out, it seems different for you right now.

But, the time was not flowing quickly? It's not just slowing down—it stopped.

What? Did you just say you found out your life's purpose, are you serious?!

© 0SCXMLQRD

[theclairvoyage]

Sour Lemonade (One-shot)

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Your nephew's little league baseball games take up many of your summer evenings, and it's not the dust or the concession stand treats that keep you coming back - it's one of the coaches, Joel Miller.

Pairing: Little league coach!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI! alternate universe, adult language, alcohol consumption, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), fluff, flirting, angst, mentions of physical violence, light choking, baseball talk, mentions of child death, mentions of infidelity

WC: 12k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Dust flies into your face, obscuring your view of the baseball diamond. “Fuck,” you spit, the sudden inconvenience enraging you. Aggressively, you wipe your lips with the back of your forearm, noticing now how sticky, slimy, and itchy your skin is from all the sweat and dirt. And the pirate bugs are relentless, tiny daggers pricking your pores at every moment. Each swat of your exposed skin produces a tiny black smear, only to be replaced by another miniscule, predatory black dot.

“Does anyone have some goddamn bug spray?” Anger invites itself to the baseball game now, alarming some of the innocent parents watching their 8-year-old sons try to play America’s favorite pastime. Your sister, who dragged you to this hell hole, tugs on your sleeve as she hops up from the bleachers.

“Jesus, can’t go anywhere without you cussing up a storm… no wonder your nephew knows all these colorful words,” she scolds you, your name rolling off her tongue with a sharp bite as she stomps over to the bathrooms. The rage inside you cools a bit, returning to its home in the corner of your stomach. She swings her tote from under her arm to her front, digging in the bottomless pit for some bug spray. She pulls out a pink spray bottle with feminine letters, and you already know it doesn’t have DEET.

“Sorry, Mer—for the cussing. But also, do you have anything containing any carcinogens? Need ultra strength right now,” you say, trying to ease the tension. She snorts and rolls her eyes, exchanging the pink bottle for a familiar green one. OFF! is plastered in big font on the front.

“Ahhhh,” you sigh, spraying the familiar harsh scent on your skin and clothes. She laughs, taking a big step away from the cloud of haze surrounding you. The mist cools your skin, though you know it’ll stick once it’s dried—you don’t care at this point. It’s the third inning, and you can’t handle another hour and a half of being a trained insect assassin.

“Thanks. Also, how d’ya know Noah isn’t learning cuss words at school? Or on YouTube,” you remind her, pointing a DEET-covered finger in her face. She ponders it for a moment, jaw ticking back and forth.

“Well, either way—these parents are going to blacklist you if you don’t put a filter on it.” You wave her off, grimacing.

“Meredith, let me put it bluntly—I don’t give a fuck,” you say, accentuating the last word and sticking your neck out. She laughs loudly and smacks your shoulder.

“Y’know, Noah loves that you come to his games. And I want to keep you around, so… I guess I can tolerate it,” Meredith says with a half-smirk, snatching the green bottle from your sticky fingers. “Let’s go back before the damn game is over.”

“Hey! Language!” you point at her, eyes widening in mock shock. A throaty laugh leaves her lips. The wind picks up again, sending a twister of dirt and dust your way, so hard it stings your legs. You curse yourself for not wearing pants.

Back at the bleachers, you find that your language is the least concern of these parents. It’s the bottom of the fourth inning, and the score is 2-9. Noah’s team looks somber as they take the field. Moms are perched on their bleacher chairs with crossed legs, quietly fanning their faces with paper programs with pursed lips. Dads spit their sunflower seeds and tobacco into the grass aggressively with arms crossed, shaking their heads with each dropped ball and fumbled groundout. A sharp contrast is the cacophony of shrill screams and boisterous laughter from children running around the nearby empty fields, with not a care in the world. They’re just happy to be here.

“Sheesh… tough night,” Meredith says solemnly in your ear. You nod, sucking your lips into your mouth. The pitcher on Noah’s team walks another batter, and a man, presumably one of the coaches, emerges from the dugout and steps onto the field, holding his palm up to the umpire.

“Time!” The umpire calls, waving both hands in the air a few times. You study the man as he approaches the pitcher, surprised at what you see.

He’s taller than average, but not too tall. His trim body is lined with lean muscle, though he’s somewhat soft in the middle. Broad shoulders stretch his gray t-shirt. Graying brunette curls peek under his hat, kissing the top of his strong, tanned neck. Strong legs stride quietly, though confidently, toward the poor boy, who is clearly distraught. The man kneels and puts a hand on the pitcher’s shoulder as he speaks to him. The boy nods, cracking a small smile and sniffling as the man jostles him softly. He told a joke, perhaps—whatever it took to get the kid to smile. You find yourself smiling, too, watching the pair interact. The man has a calming presence that seems to have trickled into the crowd. The tension in the air is less frigid, palpable. He high-fives the boy and stands, returning to the dugout. His gaze sweeps the field, giving his players a thumbs up, before turning to the crowd and locking eyes with you.

Shit. His face takes your breath away, complete with a curved nose, high cheekbones, plush lips crowned with a full mustache, and an angled jawline dotted with brown and gray hairs. His smoldering chocolate eyes, though, are what hypnotize you the most. He’s still staring at you, likely analyzing the structure of your features like you are to him. You notice his stride falters momentarily before catching himself, but his eyes never stray from yours as he returns to the dugout. Heat radiates from your cheeks. Your heart thuds in your chest, pulse racing at this gorgeous stranger checking you out. Meredith nudges you with her elbow.

“I’ve never seen anybody get eye-fucked like that,” she whispers, and you can’t prevent the loud guffaw that escapes from your mouth. You clap a hand over your mouth quickly and whip your head toward her.

“Who is that?!” you squeal, clutching her wrist.

“That’s Joel Miller, one of the coaches,” she whispers, craning her neck to look at him in the dugout. “His nephew is on the team. Brother is that guy sitting behind home plate here,” she points, alerting you to an attractive Latino man with shiny black curls and a similar strong nose. Damn. He’s fine as hell, too. Before you turn to look at him again, Meredith grips your leg.

“He’s staring over here, don’t look,” she whispers. You can’t help but smile and feel giddy, like a sixth grader developing their first crush.

The game ends on a higher note, with Noah’s team lessening the gap and ending 6-10. As parents trickle from the stands to wait for their boys out by the dugout, you try to catch a glimpse of Joel, who is picking up stray baseball bats and gloves, handing them to their rightful owners. Noah ambles over to Meredith and you, grin plastered on his dirt-stained face. He wraps his sweaty arms and hands around your midsection.

“Hey, buddy. You did great,” you beam at him. He sighs heavily and looks up at you, big blue eyes laced with disappointment.

“We didn’t win, though,” he laments, wiping his dirty face off on your shirt.

“S’not all about winning, my dude. Gotta have fun and try to get better every day,” you comfort him, patting the back of his sweaty jersey.

“That’s some good life advice right there,” a deep, sexy, Southern-accented voice interrupts. You snap your head up and see Joel, who’s already looking at you. God, he’s even more attractive up close, and he smells good, like pine and musk. His eyes travel your face before dipping down to your lips, quickly reverting to your eyeline.

“Joel! This is my sister,” Meredith introduces you, pulling Noah from your grasp. Joel holds out a hand. You grab it and shake, relishing the warmth and size of his hand. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he lets go.

“Nice to meet ya. I think some of the parents are gettin’ drinks later, after puttin’ the Rugrats to bed,” he says, flashing a jaw-dropping smile at you. Meredith chimes in, saving you once again from your own awkward silence.

“That sounds great! We’ll definitely stop by, right?” she asks you, nudging you. You tear your eyes from Joel’s and nod.

“Yes—though I need a shower. I stink,” you admit, scrunching your nose. A deep chuckle emits from Joel, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your heart skips a beat.

“Y’can’t be that bad—at least y’look good,” he says with a grin, pearly whites blinding you. Your heart falters completely at his compliment and you’re frozen, like a mosquito inside a solid block of amber. Meredith, for the umpteenth time today, saves you from looking like an absolute fool.

“Joel, wait ‘til you see her all cleaned up! We gotta go get this kiddo showered and ready for his sleepover, see you in a bit!” she says, clutching your wrist and leading you and Noah toward the parking lot. Peering over your shoulder, you catch Joel’s eyes drifting up and down your figure. His smile fades, expression morphing from excitement, to astonishment, to desire. Oh, fuck.

Two hours later, Meredith and you are arm in arm, walking up to the bar the parents and coaches had chosen for the rendezvous. The summer heat has loosened its grip on the city, with gentle summer gusts and a Starburst-colored sunset replacing it. Your dirty and sweat-ridden clothes are replaced with some jean shorts and a fresh muscle tee, and you remembered to put lotion on your legs for once.

Meredith opens the creaky wooden entrance door, and you spot the baseball group in a corner of the bar. Eight parents and all coaches are here, each sporting a mug of some light and probably domestic beer. All greet you with either a wave or a loud greeting—they must’ve gotten started drinking early. You spot Joel sitting next to his brother, Tommy—both are staring at you as you approach the group.

“Since you’re late, you have to buy shots,” says one of the moms, lifting her empty beer glass.

“Fine, Katy—but it’s gonna be tequila!” Meredith quips, inciting a grimace from Katy and cheers from all the men at the table. “Let’s go up to the bar,” Meredith murmurs in your ear, setting your purses down on two empty chairs the group saved for you. You try not to look at Joel but feel his magnetizing gaze on you, and you make eye contact with him. His eyes are molten dark chocolate, sweeping over your face with a glimmer of want. You crack a small smile and his eyes latch onto your lips immediately. Before your knees buckle, you break eye contact and follow Meredith to the bar.

“So, you gonna fuck him, or what?” She teases once you’re both out of earshot of the group. You land a playful slap on her arm and drop your jaw.

“Mer! I don’t even have his number! Or know how old he is, or if he’s an ex-con, or a child molester, or a serial strangler,” you ramble, pulling a laugh from her.

“He’s not any of those things, but he’s in his fifties, I know that. Doesn’t look like it, though,” she says, eyebrows arching. He’s got some years on you, for sure, but you’ve had an experience or two with an older man—though this one terrifies you. His eyes alone could convince you to do almost anything.

The bartender pours up double-digit tequila shots, garnished with salted rims and limes, and plops them on a serving tray. Meredith hoists it up and you walk back to the table, making sure to put some extra swing in your hips in case Joel’s watching. You can tell from your peripheral that he is, in fact, staring at you. Something fizzes in your chest—warm, wanting.

“Cheers to not getting run-ruled today!” Tommy cheers as everyone clinks their shot glasses together. You down yours quickly, anticipating the spicy aftertaste. And boy, it burns like hell as it glazes down your throat. You suck on the lime and try not to shiver. Whoops and cheers fill the empty bar as everyone finishes their shots.

After a few beers and shots later, you’re feeling loose and giddy. Your end of the table is talking about the godforsaken umpire from tonight’s game, somewhat split from the other half of the table, which is discussing the MLB playoffs. Feeling a familiar pull, you turn and see Joel smiling at you. Once you make eye contact, he winks, which sends you reeling. He’s about to get up from his seat when one of the moms waltzes her way over to him, curling her polished claws around his shoulder.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred her over you—she’s petite, with long blonde hair, tan skin, blue eyes, and perky fake boobs. She looks great, you admit, and she’s closer to his age. Sadness looms in your belly and your smile fades as his attention diverts to her. Oh well, you think. Good thing it didn’t go too far. Resigned, you join the conversation and try to focus on anything but Joel.

The night carries on, and you find yourself unbothered by Joel. Meredith completely let loose, singing along to the music echoing throughout the bar. Everyone at your end of the table is telling jokes, clinking glasses, and enjoying each other’s presence. It’s a fun night, you admit to yourself. You made every effort to not pay attention to the other end of the table but felt Joel’s eyes on you constantly.

What you didn’t realize was how much he wanted you to be the one pressed up against him, with his arm curled around your waist or his rough fingers stroking the smooth skin of your thigh. He needed to get away from this kid’s mom—she was newly divorced and obviously ready for a rebound. Yeah, she was attractive, but nothing about her excited him—if anything, he was irritated by her blatant advancements. The final straw was when she crept her hand up his denim-clad thigh and squeezed close to the apex.

“The hell are you doin’?” he says with a laugh, incredulous. She licks her glossy lips and leans in toward his ear.

“Oh, I think you know, big boy,” she murmurs in her sexiest voice. Joel is turned off. Not wanting to be rude, he lightly grips her wrist and pulls her hand back. You, unfortunately, look over right as he grabs her hand.

“Not interested, dear,” he murmurs back, watching the frustration grow on her face.

“Fine, Miller—there’s plenty more who want it,” she boasts. She snatches her manicured hand away and moves onto your side of the table, picking another innocent victim.

Annoyed, you stand and walk up to the bar, back facing the group. Guess her little routine worked on Joel—he really ate it up, even touched her arm. You chide yourself for letting this unnerve you—you don’t even know the guy, and for all you do know, he might be a sleazeball.

“Need a break from the loudmouths?” the bartender asks, half smiling. You nod, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Too much testosterone over there,” you retort, “I’ll take a Sprite.” She nods and punches a button on the soda gun, filling up a tall glass. Staring at the bubbles fizzing over the ice cubes, you feel a breeze on your side. It’s Joel, finally separated from his bimbo of the night.

“Hey, darlin’, can I get you a drink?” he asks, smooth, sugary voice tickling your eardrums. He sounds sexy as fuck. You hold his gaze but don’t smile, creating an icy wall between the two of you.

“Is your girlfriend okay with that?” you sneer, turning to take a sip of your Sprite. His shoulders sag just slightly, but you see it from the corner of your eye.

“She ain’t my girl, promise. She’s tryna find a rebound,” he murmurs apologetically. You shrug.

“Seems like she was getting close to getting one.” Ouch. It hits low and painful in his belly, though he understands.

“Listen, I know what it looked like. Promise ya, it ain’t nothing. She ain’t my type,” he says, eyes sweeping your face. Guilt pangs you, and you turn to look at him. Fuck. His eyes are solemn, repentant—he’s saying sorry, and he doesn’t even need to. You sigh deeply, feeling that the alcohol is forcing you to be honest with him.

“Joel, look—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha—,” you start, but he interrupts you, putting a calloused palm up and shaking his head.

“No need t’apologize, sweetheart. I get it. She was all over me,” he says, end of his sentence filled with a playful tone. You giggle quietly.

“Oh yeah, she was two seconds away from sinking her teeth into you,” you joke, chuckles exchanging between the two of you. Relief fills you, warm and cleansing. He stares at you for a moment before speaking again.

“So, that drink…” he says, a lopsided grin plastered on his rugged face. God, he’s handsome. You can’t hold off much longer.

“I ‘spose,” you tease, “Guess you owe me one, anyway.” His half-grin turns whole, smile sending a zip of desire down your spine. He leans close to your ear, sweeping your hair over your shoulder. The touch of his warm skin on yours and the proximity of him almost makes you jump.

“I’ll make it up t’ya, swear on it,” he says, voice an octave lower and Southern accent dripping with something you’re not quite ready to identify. You clamp your thighs together instinctively, another shiver rippling through you like that of the tequila shot. Joel waves the bartender over and orders your drink of choice and whiskey neat.

“So… you live with Meredith?” Joel inquires, watching you as he sips the amber liquid. You shake your head, twirling the straw around your drink.

“Nope, but I might as well with how much I’m over there, helping with Noah and whatnot.” He nods.

“I had a daughter once. Y’know what they say… it takes a village,” he says, tone laced with melancholy. Once?

“I hate to ask, but… what happened to her?” you ask carefully, hesitant to look at him.

“She passed away when she was little. Car accident. S’alright, though—it was a long time ago,” he says, smiling at you wistfully. You put a hand on his bare forearm, and he almost melts into a puddle.

“I’m sorry, Joel. That’s so awful. I can’t imagine experiencing something like that. Noah’s my nephew, but I wouldn’t be able to go on if something happened to him,” you add, hoping to soothe his pain.

“Enough about me, darlin’, I wanna know more about you,” he says, covering your hand with his. His touch is electric on your skin.

“Nothing exciting, trust me,” you say with a shrug. He scoffs.

“I’d be shocked to hear that you’re single,” he says, winking at you again. You shove him playfully.

“Prepare to be shocked,” you quip. He shakes his head and looks up at one of the TVs.

“S’a damn shame,” he laments. The alcohol sends courage racing through your veins.

“For whom?” you tease, mirroring his wink. His smile fades just slightly as he takes you in, desire washing over him. When he speaks again, his voice is even deeper than before.

“Not for me, that’s for sure.” Your stomach drops at his admission, though your face doesn’t show it.

“Yeah? Why’s that, Miller?” He takes another sip of his whiskey, eyes locked on yours.

“You kiddin’? Look at you,” he says, whistling lowly, eyes traversing your frame. If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. You wave him off and sip your own drink.

“Oh, stop. I bet you get the best of the best coming up to you,” you say, playing it cool. He takes another sip, swallowing with a hmm-mm.

“Darlin’, the best of the best is sittin’ next to me, and I reckon I got some groveling t’do if I wanna see her again,” he admits. He takes his baseball cap off, revealing thick, gorgeous curls, hairline swept with gray locks. He runs a hand through them before sliding the cap back on. Admiring his profile, you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your gaze travels down to his neck, which might just be your favorite part of him at the moment—thick, tan, jugular vein bulging. You can almost see his pulse pounding at his carotid. Fuck, he makes your pulse pound. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, you avert your gaze to your near-empty drink, swishing the ice cubes around nervously. Joel nudges your arm with his elbow. You look at him, trying your hardest to maintain a straight face, but seeing his smile makes you grin.

“What?” you ask, noticing his eyes dipping down to your lips.

“Was just thinkin’,” he says, finishing the last of his whiskey as he eyes you inquisitively.

“About?” you press, tilting your ear toward him and raising your brows. He laughs at your facial expression and leans in, lips brushing your hair and nearly grazing your ear.

“’Bout what it would be like t’kiss you,” he hums, voice dripping with lust. Your eyes widen briefly, shock quickly morphing into nervousness, then anticipation as your stomach twists.

“Think I need another drink before then,” you say, slowly turning to face him. He’s close, close enough that you feel his breath on your face. He’s half-smiling again, brown eyes spanning your face.

“Nervous?” he taunts lowly. You look up at the TV and nod slowly.

“Darlin’, y’got nothin’ to be nervous about. I ain’t gonna make ya do anything y’ain’t comfortable with,” he says, face still close to your ear. You face him again, staring intently into his eyes.

“Oh, it’s not that. I’m afraid… you’ll be hooked,” you test him, hoping your bravado overshadows your nerves. His nostrils flare just slightly before he clears his throat.

“Reckon I need another drink, too—I might not survive,” he says, catching you off guard. A loud laugh escapes your lips. Joel is delighted at the sound and wonders how you’d sound doing other things, like underneath him or as his tongue unravels you. Suppressing an erection, he waves the bartender over and orders both of you another round.

“Wanna get some air?” he questions you, tipping his head toward the patio area. You nod, chewing on your straw nervously. The idea of being alone with him makes you squirm. You stand and he guides you outside, firm hand on your lower back. His fingertips burn into your back.

“Lemme just tell Mer I’m stepping outside,” you say. He nods. “Meet ya out there?” he offers, and you clink the rim of your glass to his in agreement. You watch him saunter over to the patio doors, salivating at the way his jeans hug his hips and ass. Meredith isn’t worried by your absence at all, still laughing and talking loudly with the group. She’s drunk.

“Mer, I’m stepping out back if you need me,” you say into her ear. She turns to you, holding your chin.

“Y’gonna kiss him, finally? He’s been tryna do it for the last hour!” she spits into your ear. Your lips quirk into a smile.

“Maybe, dunno. We’ll find out shortly,” you reply nonchalantly, shrugging as you turn to leave the table. She pinches your ass as you walk away.

Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you get closer to the patio. With a deep breath, you push the doors open and see Joel leaning up against the railing, hip cocked to one side. The patio is dotted with dim string lights and overlooks a small pond with a fountain, moonlight glimmering on the surface. The trickling of the water is soothing, a nice contrast to the loud music and voices inside the bar. He turns his body toward you, arm leaned against the railing as he watches you.

“Thought maybe I scared ya off,” he teases. You stand next to him, arm brushing his as he turns to face the pond again.

“Not in the slightest. Your girl back there, though? Not going within 20 feet of her,” you tantalize him, and he rolls his eyes as he chuckles.

“She ain’t even a blip on my radar, darlin’,” he says, voice shifting from playful to sensual. You feel his hot gaze on your face. Slowly, he dips his head closer to yours. You turn and lock eyes with him. You want him, though your expression is almost hesitant—his is pliant, asking permission. You look down at his plush lips and lean in while closing your eyes.

When your lips finally meet, a sensation roils through you like you’ve never experienced. You feel like a fishing boat in the North Sea, tossed around, dizzy, and soaked by the icy waves as they threaten to pull you under. You’re completely at the mercy of his lips, his touch. The kiss is slow, yet fiery—unlocking passion in both of you that has either been dormant or never existed. At some point, Joel turned to face you and pulled you flush to him, thick arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing you like he can’t afford to let go. You reach for his hair and knock off his baseball cap, and he laughs against your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your tongues to tangle and the kiss to reach a new level of hot and heavy. He’s gripping your ass; you’re shoving your hands up his shirt. He’s breaking the kiss to nip at your neck and jawline; you’re moaning softly. He’s groaning into your skin at the sounds you make, telling you how good you are; your nails are carving shapes into the skin of his back.

You pull back, panting, fingers still latched onto his curls. Concerned eyes stare into yours, worried he crossed a line. You shake your head and laugh incredulously, glancing over at the moonlit pond. It’s surreal, the way you’re feeling now—none of your dreams have ever been so enchanting as this moment. Joel strokes your cheek softly, needing to know your thoughts.

“Everything alright?” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone.

“Yes! Oh god, everything’s—amazing, I just didn’t know if—,” you stammer, trying to force the thousand thoughts swirling in your mind into a coherent sentence.

“D’you wanna get outta here, darlin’? I understand f’you say no, but good lord, I want you,” he breathes, searching your eyes for a semblance of hesitation or uncertainty. He doesn’t find either. Your pupils dilate ever so slightly, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, sending him over the edge. He smirks and releases you momentarily to pick up his fallen ball cap, tossing the sweaty fabric over his curls before grabbing your hand to guide you back inside. It’s hasty, the way he closes his tab and signs his receipt, tossing the pen back behind the bar with a chuckle.

“Let me tell Mer I’m leaving,” you tell him. He nods.

“I’ll wait here for ya, don’t need ya walkin’ in the dark parkin’ lot alone this time of night.”

“A gentleman, too? Hopefully that doesn’t carry over to the bedroom,” you coo, putting on your sultriest voice. His eyes are black as sin, sweeping over your body slowly.

“Oh, I am—ladies first,” he quips, enjoying the view as you turn to walk toward the table. Meredith is perched on the lap of one of the dads, whispering in his ear.

“Mer—I’m leaving. I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?” You shout over the loud chatter of the group and the music. She winks at you and gives you a languid thumbs up. Still drunk. You narrow your eyes at poor lad she’s sitting on, giving him a silent warning. He throws his palms up in the air in surrender. Meredith rolls her eyes at you before turning back to him.

Joel takes your hand as you walk out of the bar, giving the back a quick kiss. The excitement and thrill of leaving with him has you giddy, springy. Your steps are bouncier than before, confidence buzzing inside you. This fine man wants you, has wanted only you since he laid eyes on you, and is taking you home. Your past one-night stands have never been so exhilarating.

Joel leads you to a big silver truck, opening the passenger door for you and helping you into the plush leather seat. He swats your ass as you hop in, laughing at the yelp that escapes you. Trotting over to the driver’s side, he hops in and wastes no time getting out of there.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as the truck cruises onto a main road.

“Mine,” you reply, starting to feel nervous. Maybe a familiar location will calm your nerves a bit.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” You guide him to your apartment, which is maybe 10 minutes from the bar. He grabs your hand as you both speedwalk into the building, eager to rip your clothes off and finish what you started at the bar.

As soon as you’re inside your apartment, Joel rips his cap off and hoists you up, your back pressed against the door. Your legs encircle his waist and pull, crashing your hips together. His lips devour you hungrily, teeth nibbling your lower lip and hands frantically roaming over you. “Where?” he murmurs in your mouth, and you point to your agape bedroom door. You didn’t make your bed, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck right now, and neither does he. He carries you inside the dark room and lies both of you on the bed, your legs still wrapped around his midsection.

“Need t’see you,” he pants, and you point to the lamp on your bedside table. He twists the knob, filling the room with dim, amber lighting. His mouth latches back onto yours before moving down to your soft neck and collarbone.

“Off,” he says, tugging at the collar of your muscle shirt. You lift your arms up and let him tear the fabric from you, remembering that you didn’t wear a bra once you hear him curse.

“Fuck,” he groans, “look at you.” He squeezes your breasts, taking a nipple into his warm mouth. You inhale sharply, running fingers through his tousled curls as he sucks on one and moves to the other. He kisses down your stomach until he meets denim, sitting up and grasping the waistband of your shorts. He peers at you from poignant, hooded eyes.

“Can I take these off?” he asks softly, surprising you. He’s gentle, obedient, almost submissive to you, though you don’t realize what a treasure you are in his eyes. He wants to savor this, make sure it’s perfect for you. Your chest is heaving, nerves so alight that you almost forget to respond.

“Please,” you affirm, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

You’re already soaked—you felt it once you sat down in his truck, the damp fabric of your panties pushed up into you. He unbuttons and slides your shorts off, leaving your green thong on and licking his lips as he notices the wet spot.

“Jesus… this for me?” he says, returning his needy mouth to your hot skin. You’re squirming in his grip, breathless.

“Yes, fuck,” you huff, whimpers leaving your mouth as he kisses his way down your left hip and bites your inner thigh. You moan, the painful prick of his incisors heightening your pleasure.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, peeking up at you from down below. Bashfulness washes over you at the sight of him between your legs, worshipping your body. You nod feverishly, lower lip between your teeth. He growls lowly and kisses down your leg, stopping at your instep and watching your response before retracing his path. He stops over your clothed mound and kisses featherlight, pulling a groan from you. You feel his smile curve against your core, but he doesn’t oblige you—he kisses down your other leg. You tug on his hair, needing his mouth on your most sensitive spot.

“Needy, ain’t she?” he teases you, breathing hot air on your clothed, throbbing pussy. Your back arches and you sigh heavily at the sensation.

“I’ma give you just what y’need, darlin’, just hold on for me,” he soothes you, teeth pulling the waistband of your thong back slowly. He needs help from his hands, though, so he loops his fingers in the waistband and rids them from you. His gaze is boring holes in you, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“Tongue-tied?” you tease him, watching his eyes roam over your naked body.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls. He shifts downward, lower half on the floor before hooking his arms under your thighs and pulling you toward him. He stares at you as he blows softly on your clit. The chill of the air on your wet core drives you mad, your hips circling involuntarily under his grip. At what seems like a glacial pace, he leans in until his lips touch your clit in a featherlight kiss. Though light, the contact feels like the floor has dropped from underneath you, making you dizzy. His teasing has you so riled up; it won’t take much for you to reach the zenith. His tongue slips out and slowly, almost agonizingly, licks from your entrance to your clit.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. He smirks against your core, impressed with himself for learning your cues early on. He continues licking you languidly, sensually, changing his approach based on your moans, curses, and sighs, each twitch of your hips and death grip of his hair and arms, relishing all of you.

“Like hearing y’say my name,” he purrs, “Y’taste so good.” White-hot pleasure keeps shooting up your spine, like fireworks on July fourth. Your stomach feels tight, like you might snap any second.

“I’m close,” you whimper, hips rolling on his face. He hums in approval into your pussy. You reach down and grip his hands before he pulls one away to prod at your entrance. He curves two broad fingers into you, groaning at how warm and tight you are. A strangled cry escapes your throat at the stretch, part of you worried about how his cock will fit. He pumps his fingers quickly, and you snap, your orgasm taking over every fiber of your being. He talks you through it, praising you and trying not to come himself at the sight of you trembling, arched in pleasure.

After a beat, he removes his fingers and slots himself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself on his wiry mustache and smooth lips.

“Taste good, don’t you?” he croons into your mouth, pulling a low moan from your throat. Gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kiss him, you realize he’s still fully clothed. You tug the hem of his shirt up and he sits on his heels to pull it off, revealing a strong, toned torso with a softness that makes you melt. He notices you admiring him.

“S’not as good as it used t’be,” he chuckles, smiling at you as he tosses his shirt to some corner of the room.

“Shut up. You’re perfect,” you breathe, hands roaming his chest and stomach before landing in his waistband, pulling him back to you. He resists, only to unbutton his denim and slide it off his legs, leaving only his boxers. You reach out and grab his hard length through the thin fabric, gasping at the girth of him. Your fingers don’t even reach all the way around. His head tips back, breathy sigh escaping his lungs at your gentle but firm touch.

“Off,” you parrot his command from earlier, fingers tugging at the elastic waistband of his boxers. Eyes locked on yours, he stands and pulls them off his figure, cock springing as it releases. A mischievous grin creeps over his features after seeing your reaction to his manhood.

Fuck. He’s big, probably bigger than most you’ve had. The length is up there, but the girth is what worries you—he’s so thick.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll take care of you,” he soothes you, settling between your legs. Confusion contorts his face, like he forgot something—until frustration sets in.

“I don’t have protection, d’you have anything?” he asks, stroking a slow path from your inner thigh to your hip, making you squirm.

“No, but I’m good—I’m on birth control, and it’s been forever since I’ve had sex with anyone, so I’m clean,” you reply. You can’t even remember the last time you slept with anyone—months, perhaps.

“Me, too,” he adds, “minus the birth control.” His witty response makes you giggle. You sit up and lean forward to kiss him, stopping just before your lips touch.

“I want you inside me. Now,” you whisper, gaze flicking over his face. His eyes flash obsidian before he crashes his lips against yours and lies you both down. He rubs the head of his cock against your soaked folds, the sensation setting your body on fire. Aroused and impatient, you tip him back until your positions are switched, Joel’s head almost hanging off the edge of the bed. He chuckles at you but beams at your confidence. Perched on his lap, you lean back slightly and grind your hips, guiding your lips over his rock-hard length.

“Need a picture of this,” he says, bewildered at the gorgeous woman grinding on his lap, naked and needy for him. His rough palms caress your hips, stomach, breasts, before landing at your shoulders. He pulls you down for a kiss, the new angle pressing your slit flush against his cock, and you shudder.

“Fuck me,” he rumbles, mouth agape, messy salt and pepper curls dipping down to his brow. You sit up, bracing one palm on his chest and using the other to guide him to your dripping entrance. Making sure to watch him, you slowly sink down on him, the stretch splitting you open almost immediately. Your mouth drops and eyebrows arch, the pain and pleasure slowing your movements.

Joel’s face mirrors yours, your tight, soaked cunt squeezing him deliciously. He grits his teeth and grips your ass so hard you’ll have bruises, urging you down further onto him. You slowly take inch by inch until bottoming out, the sudden press of his tip against your cervix making you yelp.

“Okay, baby?” he asks. Your eyes are squeezed shut, breath coming out in heavy pants and hands clawing at his chest as you adjust to the size and thickness of him. A strand of your hair has fallen in your face, moving with each puff of your breath.

“Yes, j-just need a sec,” you whimper. Finally, your inner muscles acclimate to the intrusion of his cock, and you start to move. Each roll of your hips pulls a filthy moan from Joel, whose calloused hands are guiding you up and down his length. You’re whimpering with each thrust, the tip of his cock sending painfully pleasurable shocks up your spine as it slams into the deepest parts of you.

“Just beautiful,” he groans as he watches you bounce on him. It’s a good thing you’re on top, because he would’ve come by now had he been spearing himself into you. “Not gonna last long. Where d’you want me?” he spits.

“Inside me,” you mewl, and before he can react, you take the opportunity to press your chest against his, sweaty foreheads stuck together as you clap your ass against him as hard as you can. Your second orgasm washes over you suddenly, causing you to tuck your head in the crook of his neck as you cry out. Joel takes over, thrusting up into you a few times before grunting your name as he spills into you. Both of your pants and whimpers fill the room as you come down from your high. You’re still on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck, pussy wrapped around his cock still as he softens. He rolls you over and pins your arms above your head before dipping his lips down to meet yours in a messy postcoital kiss. You moan into the kiss, and his cock twitches at the sound inside you—he’s not quite hard, but enough to still stretch you out.

“Wanna do it like this next time,” you pant, cupping his cheek. He turns to kiss your palm and moves down to your wrist before latching his lips onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I’d like that, baby,” he purrs into your sweaty skin, “And I like that there’s gonna be a next time.” He rests against you for a moment before slipping out of you with a grunt and standing to find your bathroom. He returns after a minute with a towel, sitting next to you on the bed and wiping his spend from you.

A pang of disappointment washes over you suddenly, not wanting him to leave. One-night stands really aren’t your thing—you don’t want him to get the idea that this is a frequent habit of yours.

You speak his name softly, quietly. He slides back into bed, propping himself on one elbow and giving you his full attention. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, your eyes closing at the tenderness of his touch.

“Hmm?” he hums, thumb tracing your eyebrow, forehead, temple, whatever part of your face is closest. You open your eyes and see warm, affectionate amber staring back at you. His eyes are so beautiful, so full of emotion, you find yourself unable to talk for a second. He quirks one eyebrow at you, lips sliding into his cheek as he waits for your response.

“D’you wanna stay?” you ask, hesitant. You really don’t know him, or if this is something he likes to do often, or if it was a spur of the moment decision made during your moment of passion at the bar. He leans down and kisses your forehead before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Pulling back ever so slightly, his breath fans on your face and gaze flicks between each of your eyes before he opens his mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’d love to,” he says. You can’t help the grin that pulls at your cheeks. He twists the lamp, darkness spilling into the room, and tucks you into his chest before pulling the covers over both of you.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair, and before you can reply, you’re sound asleep.

Morning rolls around, and you find yourself pressed against Joel’s warm back, arms wrapped around his torso and moving up and down with his expanding ribcage. He’s still sleeping, or you think—he woke up not too long ago with you curled into his chest, torn between needing to use the bathroom, and not wanting to let go of you. You looked so serene, so beautiful as the sunrise painted your features. When he came back and tucked himself under the covers, you immediately latched yourself onto him, arms wound tightly around his belly.

Now, you find yourself in the same predicament, needing to use the bathroom but not wanting to disturb him. You slowly unfurl yourself from his broad back, stand from the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom connected to your room.

Joel had opened his eyes once he felt you rise from the bed and watched your naked figure travel across the room, the sight stirring his already half-hard cock. Fuck, you were gorgeous, and he wanted desperately to see your body trembling with pleasure again, the memory of your face twisted in euphoria sewn into his brain. When he heard the bathroom door open, he snapped his eyes shut again, wanting you to think he was asleep.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to wake him and had a primal urge for some fresh coffee. You search the room for your robe, startling when two warm hands grasp your waist and pull you onto the bed. Joel props himself up against your headboard, legs spread as he pulls you into the open space between them. His strong arms loop around your stomach, pulling you tight until your back is flush with his chest. He tucks his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses behind and beneath your ear, down the column of your neck.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” he croons, Southern voice raspy with sleep, igniting something inside you. You moan as his lips and teeth mark spots on the map of your skin.

“Coffee, I swear,” you groan, covering his arms with yours and squirming as his mouth continues adorning you.

“Mm. Not done with you yet,” he murmurs, unwrapping one hand from your stomach to palm your breasts. You arch into him, head tipping back on his shoulder. He growls.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he presses, rolling one nipple between rough fingertips before moving to the other. You gasp sharply and nod against his shoulder, hips gyrating and ass rubbing against his hard length. He inhales deeply, the scent of your hair invading his space and heightening his arousal for you.

His palm dips lower, spanning your soft stomach before reaching your inner thigh, goosebumps erupting in its path. Lightly, he scratches at your skin there, loving how pliant your body is underneath his touch. He needs to see your face.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, and you turn your head to see him. God, he looks fucking good. His hair is fucked up from slumber, eyes wanton and full of sleepy desire. There are hints of intrigue and mischief sketched on his face.

Then, he kisses you, teeth tugging on your lower lip. It’s hot, the way he needs you in this moment, the way his tongue reaches for yours, the way his grip tightens around you. His hand dips further south, fingers feeling firsthand how much you want him. He moans at it, the wetness trickling from you.

“Joel,” you whine, his calculated touches teasing you. He swirls his fingers around your bud, almost excruciatingly slow.

“You want me this much?” he breathes into your mouth. Your hips are still rolling, ass feeling how much he wants you.

“Yes—please. Need you,” you moan softly, eyes opening to see him. He looks down, watching and moaning at how your slick coats his fingers. He prods his middle finger at your entrance, inserting it lazily into your tight heat with a groan. You gasp at the soreness of his cock from last night and at the stretch—his finger is thick, close to the size of two of your digits.

“Baby—need to stretch you out. So tight.” He pulls his middle finger out and adds his ring finger to the mix. He curls them once they’re fully sheathed inside you, pads stroking your soft walls. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, yet with enough pressure to send you reeling. The pleasure builds inside you, knotting tightly in your belly. You moan as he continues to unravel you, hips circling around his hand, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, mouth moving to graze your earlobe. He holds it there, between his teeth, pulling it as you come apart on his fingers.

Your orgasm rolls through you slowly, vision spotting as the knot untethers inside your stomach. Joel fucks you through it and praises you, spurring you on more. It’s new for you, someone talking you through your orgasm, and something you didn’t realize you needed.

“Good girl, just like that—did so good for me, baby,” he soothes you, removing his soaked fingers from you. He takes the middle one into your mouth, brushing your tongue, and you suck lightly, moaning at the taste of yourself. His cock jumps.

“Need to taste you again,” he hums, placing his ring finger in his mouth. You watch him relish the taste of you, eyebrows arching and a deep groan escaping his throat.

“Can I fuck you now, baby?” he asks, syllables like chords of a sweet cello. You nod, tugging the back of his head down for a passionate kiss. He maneuvers both of you until you’re underneath him and he’s hovering over the cradle of your hips.

“Gonna go slow,” he says, palms cradling your face.

“Want you to fuck me however you like, Joel,” you whisper, searching his eyes. Brown irises flecked with gold, desire-filled pupils threatening to swallow them. He sits up, tugging your thighs toward him and tucks your knees at his sides. He grips himself and breaks eye contact to watch where your bodies are about to join. He looks up at you as he slips the head of his cock inside your warm entrance, jaw dropping as your walls swallow him.

Carefully, he feeds you inch by inch, eyes never leaving yours until he’s at the hilt. He commits to memory the morphing of your facial expressions as he fills you up—wide eyes, mouth dropping slowly, head tilting back and eyes snapping shut once he reaches the end of you. Only then does he look down to see where he has vanished inside you, moaning at the way your pussy stretches around him as he pulls out slowly.

“You feel so good,” you whine, fingernails lightly scratching his chest and stomach. His head tips back as he sets a pace, your muscles squeezing him and coating him in warm slick.

“Best I ever had—fuck,” he curses, fingertips bruising your hipbones. He pulls you up so your hips are propped up on his lap, leaving space between your back and the bed. You arch, head lolled back and hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Beautiful,” he moans, reaching a palm down to lightly squeeze the column of your throat as he continues pounding into you.

Blood rushes to your head, heightening the pleasure of each thrust. Your body is tingling, almost levitating.

With no notice, your second orgasm zips through you like a gasoline fire, flames scorching your neurons. Joel follows suit, lifting you into his lap, arms wrapped around your torso as he cries into your chest. You tug his curls, tipping his head back in a kiss as he finishes emptying inside you.

You pull back and run your fingers through his hair, stopping to cradle his face in your hands. He beams at you.

“Can I make coffee now?” you tease him, pressing a light kiss to his nose. He laughs warmly, squeezing you tightly and picking you up as he stands from the bed.

“I think that’s acceptable,” he replies, squeezing your ass before letting you stand on your own legs.

“So… when can I see you again?” Joel asks as he puts his shoes on. You’d typed your number into his phone per his request just moments ago and sent yourself a text with his name.

“Are you saying… you want to do this again?” you say, winking at him and dropping your mouth open in mock surprise. He rolls his eyes, standing to pull you into a hug.

“Yes, but not just sex. Unless, uh, that ain’t your thing,” he says, hesitation flashing over his features. You shake your head.

“What we just did isn’t usually my thing. I’d love a date. And more sex if that’s okay.” He snorts.

“It’s more than okay. You showing up to the baseball game tomorrow evening?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the skin in front of your ear. You nod.

“Got a thing for the hot coach. Need to make sure I have my best jean shorts on.” He snorts again, raising an eyebrow at the prospect of seeing you with some short shorts on.

“How about I take you out later this week, then?” You swipe your eyes around the top of the room, lips sliding into your cheek as you try and remember your schedule.

“Friday? I have a busy week at work. Late nights, probably,” you offer. He nods with a big grin.

“It’s a date.”

The next day arrived in blistering fashion. Not a single cloud graced the blue skies, nor the tiniest gust of summer wind. By 5:00 PM, it was still in the lower 90s. You packed a large cooler full of water bottles, Gatorade, various other liquids stashed in your fridge, and snacks for Noah’s baseball game. Excited to see Joel again, you made sure to wear your best jean shorts and threw on a cropped tank top.

You pull up to the baseball field, searching the parked cars for Meredith’s SUV and Joel’s silver truck. You find both, parked at opposite ends of the lot. Your stomach drops slightly when you see his truck. He’s here, obviously—he is one of the coaches. Meredith waits in her SUV for you, hopping out when she sees you strolling up, big cooler in tow.

“Any booze in that?” she winks at you. You nod.

“I had some stray shooters in the fridge. All yours.”

“I believe you have something to tell me, yeah?” she says as both of you walk up to the entrance of the baseball complex. You look over to the field and see Noah’s team warming up in their familiar navy and red uniforms.

Joel is in the grass, hitting pop flies at the outfielders. His broad back is turned to you, the familiar shape sending a pang of anticipation up your spine. The flexing and jumping of his muscles and tendons is getting you hot. Meredith nudges you.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you here! Stop reminiscing,” she scolds you.

“I kinda have to if you want my account of the story, yeah?” you add, mocking her tone playfully. She guffaws.

“Spill. The man was obsessing over you since he saw you at the game.”

“Let’s just say he’s very good at what he does. And he’s a gentleman. He’s taking me out later this week,” you gush, cheeks burning at your recollection of yesterday’s events.

“Knew it. Could tell by the way he walks and looks at you. Mans is whipped. My guy on the other hand? Couldn’t even get it up. Passed out before anything meaningful could happen,” she seethes, eyes rolling.

“All old men are not created equal, Mer,” you joke, jostling her with your elbow.

As you two find home in the bleachers, you see Miss Blonde Ambition eyeing you from the concession stand. She looks pissed off, Juvéderm-filled lips contorted in a scowl and lifeless eyes swiping up and down your frame as she sloshes her Stanley cup around aggressively. Meredith notices, too.

“Guess she’s not too happy her usual antics didn’t work,” she gripes. You try not to give too much attention to the woman.

“What’s her name? I don’t even think Joel knows it,” you ask, noticing her return to the bleachers from your peripheral.

“Cassie. Divorced. Her kid is one of Noah’s closest friends on the team, unfortunately. I think he spends most nights with his dad.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Meredith chuckles at your jab.

A cloud of strong, overly floral perfume invades your nostrils, and you turn to see Cassie, manicured hands planted on her hips and face pinched in irritation.

“Hey, Cass,” Meredith says coolly, not looking in her direction.

“Is this your sister?” Cassie spits. Her voice is shrill, accent almost Valley girl. It would make a lot of sense if she was from Southern California. Meredith, having none of this hostility, whips her head at Cassie.

“It is. You got a problem? Because this is not the time nor the place,” she says, eyes narrowing briefly at Cassie.

“Just wanted her to know that she shouldn’t get too excited about her little escapade with Joel. He does that with every young thing that sits on these bleachers,” she boils, face and neck turning red. Ouch. Joel never seemed the type, but then again, you don’t know him. She could be telling the truth.

“Except you, yeah?” Meredith shoots back, unfazed by Cassie’s low blow. You, on the other hand, don’t miss how your stomach sinks and throat dries up at her words. Cassie’s mouth drops open. She cocks her hips to one side and lifts a finger at both of you.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve been there, done that. Nothing to ride home about. Enjoy my sloppy seconds,” she hisses. Meredith stands up, hackles raised and blocking you from Cassie’s view.

“S’at why you were all pissed off he didn’t want you last night? ‘Cause it’s ‘nothing to ride home about’?” Meredith fires, neck rolling. Anger boils in your belly, though you find it best if you don’t speak—Meredith has always been the verbal fighter, you the physical one. It’s not a road you plan on traveling any time soon.

Other parents in the bleachers are observing the confrontation, along with some players in the dugout, little claws gripping the chain link fence and wide eyes glued to the scene. You’re glad you have sunglasses on. You notice Joel turn his attention to you, shoulders drooping at what he sees. Embarrassed, you look down at your feet as Cassie continues her tirade.

“Tell your slutty little sister he’ll find a new spectator to fuck very soon—and I think it’s best if our sons don’t hang out anymore!” she screeches. It’s silent at the ball field—both teams have stopped their warmups to tune into the drama. A pin could drop here, and everyone would hear it.

Meredith hops off the bleachers and gets close to Cassie’s face. She points in her face.

“Slutty? That’s rich, coming from the lady who cheated on her husband with half the single dads at the last State Tournament!” Cassie’s mouth drops open in shock, taking a few steps back from Meredith. Some gasps ring out in the bleachers. Tommy walks over, stepping between the two sparring women and putting his hands up.

“That’s enough!” he booms. Meredith, nostrils flared and fists clenched, points a finger at him.

“Tom, you know damn well what she’s trying to do here. I’m not about to let it happen. She chose to do this in front of everyone to embarrass my sister. Ain’t my problem what comes out.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“I get it, Mer. Just didn’t need the kids hearing this stuff.”

Nausea squeezes your stomach and takes hold of your throat. You stand and grab your purse. Meredith turns to you, worried.

“Y’alright?” You shake your head.

“Need t’go sit in my car for a bit,” you reply, voice shaky. You turn and walk to your car, paying no attention to wandering eyes. Joel sees you ambling to the parking lot and sets his bat down, raking a hand through his stubble as he walks toward the dugout and out to the bleachers. He’d heard the entire conversation and knew you were probably hurting from Cassie’s remarks.

“I’ll talk to her, Joel,” Meredith says, stepping in between him and you, though you’re far away by now. He shakes his head.

“She needs to hear it from me. None of that shit is true,” he huffs, frown lines etched into his forehead. He jogs frantically to your car.

Hunched over your steering wheel, a knock at your window interrupts you. You jump and look up to see Joel. He looks worried. Shoulders sagging, you unlock the doors and tilt your head as you wait for him to get in. The door opens and he reaches for your hand. You snap it back involuntarily.

“I just wanna be alone right now, Joel,” you lament.

“Just let me explain, alright? I heard everythin’ she said to you,” he says, voice calm. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you do, you won’t be able to stand firm.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he pleads, voice quiet. You sigh in defeat and turn to look at him. His amber eyes are filled with sadness and frustration.

“None of that shit she said is true. I’ve never slept with anyone that comes to these games, save for you and my ex-wife. Ain’t she ain’t been to a game in many years. Swear,” he says, voice tight, speech rushed.

You look back and forth between his eyes. Why would he lie to you? What could he possibly gain from fucking you—after all, he is a coach, and it might make him look bad to the parents and players. If anything, it was a risk on his part.

“I believe you, Joel. It just hurt,” you finally speak. He reaches for you again, hesitant from your previous rejection. You give him your hand and he kisses the back of it, eyes locked on your face.

“M’sorry. I knew she wasn’t gonna let it go easy. Promise ya, ya got nothin’ to worry about. I—I really like you,” he says, pained. You lean over the center console and kiss him, almost feeling his relief pouring into you.

“I really like you too… old man,” you tease. He roars in laughter.

“Y’gonna pay for that one, darlin’,” he says, half-grinning at you. He kisses you again before pulling back and checking his watch.

“Game’s gonna start soon, I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later, alright?” You nod, smiling weakly at him. He gives you a quick peck before exiting the passenger side and trotting back to the field.

Noah’s team played an excellent game, which lifted the moods of all the parents and coaches. Cassie’s ex-husband, Byron, showed up and convinced her to leave, which was a relief for everyone. He apologized to you and Meredith for her behavior. Apparently, he already knew about her cheating escapade before they divorced.

Meredith, feeling badly for you, decided to splurge on concession stand snacks and got you a giant Bavarian pretzel and cotton candy, and supplied hot dogs to all the parents. You had fun, too—apprehension quickly turned to relief as parents took turns sympathizing with you and making you feel welcome. This was not Cassie’s first run-in with another woman in the bleachers, you found out—she made this sort of thing a habit.

Noah hit his first home run of the season, eliciting cheers and whoops from the stands. Joel, who had been working with him on his hitting mechanics, gave him a big hug after he returned to the dugout. The team finished 10-3, a great turnaround from yesterday’s loss.

The parents were eager to return to the bar and close it down again. You opted not to, feeling tired and needing a hot bath from the sticky summer night. You and Meredith chatted with Byron for a long time in the parking lot as families filtered out, discussing how to best keep Cassie away from the boys. They had a strong friendship, and neither Meredith nor Byron wanted anything to affect it. Byron shared that Cassie didn’t even have custody of their son—her cheating and drinking during their marriage put a bad taste in Byron’s mouth, and apparently the judge’s—he was awarded full custody.

After saying goodbyes, you were eager to get home, almost forgetting the most important goodbye. You scan the parking lot and see a familiar handsome shape leaning against the bed of his silver truck, eyeing you as you saunter over to him.

“Good game, Coach Miller,” you say slyly, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He grasps it, glancing down with one eyebrow cocked, before pulling you into his chest.

“Lotta motivation coming from the stands tonight,” he croons, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“For you or the boys?” He chuckles.

“Take your pick.” You shake your head and smile, watching the sun drop the last of its shape underneath the horizon. The sky is a beautiful cotton candy color, not unlike the treat Meredith bought for you earlier tonight. You two stand there for a moment, the only sounds being the quiet buzzing of the cicadas and crunch of cars leaving the gravel parking lot.

“Headin’ to the bar?” Joel asks you, holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb. You shake your head.

“Need a hot bath and some relaxation. You?” He smirks, thinking of your naked body undressing and stepping into a bubbly tub.

“Nah. Need the same.” Your lips twitch as you study his face, painted with a little mischief and a little fatigue.

“Want to join me?” you offer, watching a slow grin creep on his face.

“Hmm, need t’think about that one,” he says, eyes flicking over your face.

“What’s there to think about? You, me, naked in a tub. What could possibly go wrong?” You’re flirting now.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’ ‘bout, darlin’, not whether I wanna go,” he says, pulling a goofy laugh from you.

“Meet you over there, then,” you say, turning to leave. He holds onto one of your fingers, preventing you from walking to your car.

“Y’want somethin’ to eat first?” he says, rubbing the skin of your finger.

“Sure. Something on the way?”

“I’m thinkin’ McDonalds. Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it over.”

“It’s a date.”

Not too long thereafter, you and Joel are sitting in your bathtub, backs at opposite ends. He’s tracing shapes on the skin of your knee, asking you every question that pops into his head.

“Shoe size?”

“Eleven. I have big ass feet,” you say, sticking a foot out of the water. He chuckles.

“D’ya want kids someday?”

“Nope. Noah is good enough for me. Never really wanted to be a mom. Would you have another?” He shakes his head.

“I’m too old to be a new father again. S’a lotta work. I had a good run with Sarah,” he says quietly, hand tiptoeing further up your leg.

He stares into your eyes, slicking his wet curls back from his forehead with his free hand.

“Why are you single?” His gaze bores into your face. You avoid it, focusing on mussing up some bubbles floating by your knee. You shrug.

“Haven’t had time, or the energy,” you finally say after a beat. “Haven’t found anyone worth giving either of those things to,” you add, tilting your head and meeting his gaze. He half-smiles at you.

“Yeah, me neither. ‘Til now,” he says, deep voice echoing throughout your bathroom.

“Oh yeah? Cassie, right?” you tease, and he snorts.

“Y’got me there. Alright, last question,” he says, hand stopping at the seam of your thigh. You tighten your muscles a bit, nervous.

“Shoot, Coach,” you say, flicking a bubble at him.

“Can I touch you, baby?” your eyes widen briefly, aligned with the quickening of your pulse. You’ve been wet since he ran the bath water for you and undressed you, fingertips gently tracing your skin as he removed your damp clothing.

“Yes,” you breathe. His finger grazes your mound, the sharp stubble like sandpaper against his skin. He grips your knees and pulls you into his lap. You look down at him, mesmerized by his face and the way he stares at you.

“One more question,” he says, warm, pruny hands traversing your back, warm water trickling from his fingertips to your skin. You thread your fingers through his wet tendrils, leaning your lips close to his, but not touching.

“I’ll allow it,” you whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod, closing the gap between your mouths with ease. His lips are gentle against yours, somewhat chapped from the dry heat of the summer day and salty from sweat. He tastes like salt and mint, which he must’ve snuck into his mouth after you ate earlier.

The kiss deepens, wet sounds of your mouths and the splashing of water now echoing in the bathroom. He’s rock hard against you, cock only a few inches from your needy hole. He pulls back and stares at you.

“Alright, promise this is the last question,” he coos, rubbing his nose against your jaw and then your neck as you tip your head back to give him access. The stubble of his mustache and chin scratch at your skin.

“Fine. Last one,” you agree.

“Can I fuck you?” You nod.

And he does.

Some months and many bubble baths later, Joel wormed his way into your heart. And your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap or two hanging on your mantle, throws his keys in the dish on the kitchen counter when he walks in.

You spend most nights together during the week, either at his cozy home or your apartment.

He calls you his, you call him yours.

He fills your car up with gas when you’re out and about and your fuel light comes on, holds your hand when you walk into a restaurant, tells you how beautiful you are at least a few times a week—and not just when his cock is sheathed inside you.

He kisses you each morning before he leaves for work. Shares his food with you, even when he’s starving. Washes you in the shower and puts lotion on the spots you can’t reach after he dries you off.

Introduces you to his family, and shows you pictures of his late daughter.

Goes to the movies with you and doesn’t complain that you talk during the. Entire. Movie.

Lets you wear his ratty, baggy tees around the house, and even asks you to keep them on sometimes when he makes love to you.

Makes fun of how you use a hammer and that you can’t name the 31 different types of wrenches but corrects you each time with a warm smile.

Plays catch with you before the boys show up for warmups and lets you set up the dugout, though he’ll redo it later on anyway.

And when he finally tells you how much he loves you, you’re not shocked. Warmth ebbs inside you, like it does most days with him. You knew it all along, even if he never had the courage to say it—it was evident with each kiss, touch, and thrust, each bag of food he brought for you, each time he held the door open for you, each time he guided you somewhere with his strong hand on the small of your back.

You oftentimes wonder if he is your soulmate, though you already know the answer.

He makes lemonade with each lemon you give him, without complaint or judgment. And that’s all you can ask for.

[jesswritesthat]

Miya Atsumu: Ticket

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.8k, fluff

• You always get tickets from anyone except your MSBY neighbour, but only find out why he gets so defensive about it from his twin.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

It was a familiarly incessant knock at your door, one you'd grown accustomed to when its owner had something on his mind. Your assumption was correct when you'd opened the door and he immediately started talking.

"Ya were at the game today!" It was an accusation more than anything else as he took off his shoes and made his way to your kitchen with a pout. "Why didn't ya stay? We coulda walked home together."

"I wasn't about to disrupt your fans, you were literally surrounded Miya." Bemused laughter accompanied your testimony, and though understanding, Atsumu remained talkative.

"I guess, but I woulda preferred walking with ya. Also I told ya before, don't bother buyin' tickets when yer have a MSBY neighbour alright?"

"Oh, I didn't this time. I was given them so it's fine."

There came a calculating silence, the setter quietly analysing what you'd just said but his sceptical expression gave him away.

"Given? By who?"

"Bokuto-san. He was handing them out anyway, so I received one as a consolation prize." You answered casually, a shrug accompanying it.

"Then, I lost to a consolation prize?"

"How did you lose in that scenario?"

"I am also a professional volleyball player y'know, on the same team no less, and yet ya didn't ask me for tickets!" It was laced with bitterness on his part despite the base of sarcasm which left you thinking how to play this.

You paused for a moment and skimmed the available options, Atsumu was apparently annoyed you hadn't sought him for help no matter how petty it was (as you attended their game either way).

"I wouldn't know how to repay you Atsumu, whereas Bokuto is far easier to please."

"No payment nee— what do ya mean 'please'? Ya gave him something back?"

"Yes, a sign of affection. He was satisfied with the exchange of course since I put all of my effort into it." The proudness you’d claimed such an achievement with immediately set him on edge much to your enjoyment.

"Affection? What the heck did ya do?! (Y/n), did—"

Another knock echoed, almost déjà vu of mere minutes ago when you'd opened the door except from the darker hair you were met with.

"Hi Osamu."

"Hey (Y/n), is 'Tsumu here? Whenever he doesn't answer his door he's normally at yours." The Onigiri chef inquired, head gesturing to your neighbours.

However, you hadn't the chance to answer when the aforementioned absentee appeared behind you with his forearm resting above you on the doorframe.

"You have rubbish timing 'Samu!"

"Yeah? Ya 'bout to confess or something?" Atsumu seemed ready to throttle him (flourishing blush going amiss) before you interjected.

"No, actually I was about to confess my unholy sins which earned me MSBY tickets~" You brightly replied, Osamu flicking to you and then to his pouting brother, amused.

"Ah, that why ya got jealously radiatin’ offa ya?"

“Shut yer trap, ‘m not jealous! (Y/n) can get tickets wherever they want, mine just woulda been better.” He retreated back into your apartment cussing along the way leaving you with his victorious twin.

“I appreciate you making ‘Tsumu suffer a little but I think he woulda willingly got ya some tickets if ya asked."

"Maybe, but his family are more important and it was less hassle to accept them from Bokuto with a hug as thanks." You honestly explained with sincerity lacing your voice, the two of you making light of it.

"Does ‘Tsumu know it was just a hug? No wonder he was so pissy."

“Why? It was only a ticket, I went to support him." The way you dismissed such a clear observation so effortlessly caused him to do a double take.

Had you not noticed how Atsumu would naturally radiate to your side? How he was always somewhat aware of the situations you were in and your well-being purely by observation alone. The blonde watches over those he cares about, whether they knew it or not, and he certainly kept a polite eye on you. With that taken into account it was easy to see why Atsumu had wanted to be the one to give you something that would bring you happiness.

"Ya truly don't realise?"

“Realise what?”

Osamu thought for only a moment before an ‘innocent’ smile graced him, the man grasping your hand and walking with you deeper into your apartment to Atsumu.

A quizzical glare crossed the blondes features upon noting your entwined hands and only doubled down when Osamu left you and slung and arm over his shoulder.

The tone was deadpan, as if presenting a blisteringly obvious fact for all to see.

“He wants ya to ask him for tickets from now on. No hug necessary.”

“So ya only hugged him? Man I thought I lost ma chance to tell ya I liked ya.” There was instant relief there, the man practically melting into a puddle on the floor completely unawares of what he’d just admitted.

“Wait, Atsumu you like me?”

“No! I never said that, ya must be fantasising.”

Osamu only smirked triumphantly which told you he’d planned this from the start and was more than happy to continue digging his brothers’ grave.

“Nah ya definitely said it.”

“It’s okay, we can talk—“

“If ya don’t quit pestering me, ’m gonna want more than a hug for those tickets - yer will have to let me take ya on a date instead!” There was an accusing point toward you accompanying his petty justification, leaving Osamu painfully rolling his eyes. Part of him thought his brother would smoother with it, but apparently was an awkward mess when expressing romantic feelings on the fly.

“A date? Those tickets better be front row then, that’s for sure.”

This time he smiled, the first genuine and bright smile Atsumu had worn all evening like he’d got his spark back. Almost giddy with excitement if you had to guess what he was trying to subdue.

“Only the best for ya, VIP and all.”

<——————————<<<<

[heartfullofleeches]

[+18]

V and fuckboy playboy/wingman male Darling-

Hear me out-

Darling is the son of some other loaded family that has close ties with V's. The two cross paths at a gathering and their parents urge them to make friends. Darling plays video games. V plays video games. They exchange numbers with some persuasion from their folks and set up a time to play something together although begrudgingly on V's end. V ends up having a better time than he expected, but right before he really starts to enjoy his time with Darling - he tells V he has to head out.

"Nice meeting you, dude. We gotta do this again. I got a girl coming over and I gotta bounce."

And just like that V's hopes are crushed. He's still learning about his attraction towards guys, but - Darling was sorta cute....

"oh....so you have a girlfriend."

Darling laughs.

"Nah, man. Haven't found the right girl...or guy to tie me down yet, plus I'm just enjoying the single life for now.... I can send pics after we're done if you want. She's totally chill and likes when I show her off."

Pictures?.... V agrees - thinking not much of it. He goes back to playing and eventually it slips from his mind. Hours later he receives photos of what looks to be a topless girl in a dimly lit room. She smiles big at the camera - eyes and upper face blocked from sight by the shaft of the bastard with her cheek pressed to his inner thigh. He still had on the same pair of sweats V had seen him in earlier that day. He only met this guy not even twenty-four hours ago and now he's seen his dick. Even worse - there's a pretty girl with her lipstick and spit all over it in the same picture. V's pissed - yet the image magically appears in one of his porn holders later on."

"what the hell...."

"My bad! I thought you might like it. You don't seem like a guy who gets a lot of action... If you ever want to meet someone, just give me a call. I know a lot of people who'd be interested in a rich brat like you."

This guy.... he acts like he's any different. V thinks Darling is a freak to put things lightly, but its not like he has other people to hang out with. As the two hang out V sees that Darling isn't as bad as he first seemed. He's still a horny, inconsiderate prick most days - but he's still the best thing V has to a friend and cares for V in his own way..... Still sends V dick pics he sweats were for someone els.

Darling is genuinely surprised that V has never been with someone. Sure, he doesn't seem like he gets that much attention, but he was sure V had at least kissed someone once. The topic comes up when Darling tries for the hundredth time to hook with up with one of his flings. He's always sending V evidence of the nights he spent with strangers. Oddly enough - V only ever complains about the videos and photos when they don't have darling in them as well.

"Damn.... I know you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're cute I thought somebody would've looked past that.....

V hates with Darling says shit like that. He's not used to people flirting with him and... and it gives him false hope. "Shut up....

"So, think she's cute? I can give her your number~"

"I don't want it."

This sucks.... By now, V's fully aware of his crush on Darling - and he fucking hates the bastard for what he's doing to him. If Darling is so concerned about him seeing people why doesn't he just take V out instead. He jerks off to everything Darling sends him wondering when he'll get his turn. V has some solace in the fact Darling rare sees any of his partners twice. V has been with him and always will be with him longer than any of them have. He just has to be patient.....and ruin any chances Darling has of being with anyone else.

V nearly jumps out of his skin reading one of Darling's numerous drunken texts.

"Hey, man. Totally speaking out my ass here, but would you ever be down to have a threesome sometime ;)"

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Outsiders

ectoberhaunt24 day 10- creepy tw- none summary- Danny's always been a bit creepy. He is a Fenton after all.

masterlist ao3

Danny Fenton had always been a bit strange. But after the portal opened… After the ghosts started coming through… Things changed.

—---

His classmates were the first to notice, whispering to each other about fangs and eyes that reflected light like a cats.

Dash had been the one to realize the thing about Danny’s eyes. He had been leaving the locker room, Danny the only one left, and Dash had shut off the lights, smirking over his shoulder only to freeze as Danny’s eyes reflected eerily back at him accompanied by a slowly growing and glowing smile that was wider than it had any right to be.

Dash had fled, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

Star had noticed the fangs after having seen Danny laughing at something his friends had said. He had quickly covered his mouth, but Star had seen.

Paulina mentioned that his ears look pointy. Kwan had confessed that he was pretty sure he had seen Danny step through a library bookshelf. 

But he was a Fenton, and Fenton’s were weird.

But things got stranger. Star’s friend was visiting from out of town and they went to the Nasty Burger for lunch. But as soon as they stepped through the door, Star’s friend froze. Star followed her gaze and saw the weird trio. Her friend’s eyes seemed to be locked onto Fenton. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Her friend just shook her head, her eyes not leaving Fenton. She was pale and starting to shake. 

Star frowned and led her friend out of the restaurant.

“What was that?” she asked when her friend seemed to have calmed down.

“I don’t know. That guy was just really scary.”

Star refrained from scoffing. Fenton? Scary? Ridiculous. But still. Something was up.

And when Star mentioned it to her friends they were quiet for a moment before mentioning times when they had witnessed out of towners’ strange reactions to Danny.

They resolved to test it.

Dash invited some friends over and took them to Nasty Burger after he received a text confirming Fenton was there.

His friends froze a few steps past the door, their gazes locked on Fenton.

Dash continued on toward the registrar, and though his friends kept Dash between themselves and Fenton, their eyes constantly flickered toward the dark haired boy.

—--

“Hey, Danny.” Paulina said, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders. He stiffened but blushed, and Paulina smirked. She knew the effect she had. “Sooo… I was wondering if you’d like to come to tonight’s game?” she asked in her sweetest tone.

“Umm…” Danny’s gaze flickered to Sam and Tucker, but they seemed to be reveling in his discomfort. “I don’t think so?” he stammered.

Paulina pouted. “Come oooon.” she pleaded. “It’ll be fun! The team will love it if you come!”

“Uh, huh, sure.” Danny said, rolling his eyes, but Paulina saw Sam and Tucker exchange a look. They knew something, she was sure of it.

“Why do you even want me to go?” Danny asked.

“We need more student support, and if you come then your friends will come too.” She paused. “I’ll even pay you.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You’ll pay me to go to the game, and what? Just sit in the student section and cheer when they score?”

“Yes.” Paulina said.

Danny shared a glance with his friends. Sam nodded. “Fine.” Danny said, rolling his eyes.

—--

That night with Danny sitting front and center in the student section, Casper High won by a landslide since the opposing team couldn’t seem to stop casting scared glances in Danny’s direction.

It became a thing after that, and an easy way for Danny to earn money.

[pokegalla]

Requested by @tryslogic

Ngl never thought of this but it’s gonna either be really funny or really sweet. There is no in between-

Killer and Lust with a crazy rich S/o who loves spoiling them

Lust:

* Oh this poor sweetheart was just expecting you to ask for “service” since you kept flirting with him everytime you visited Grillby’s. He found it charming though as you were always making him laugh too. It surprised him really when instead of that, you actually asked him out instead! Especially when he learned you were rich. Like are you sure you want me??? You could literally have anyone! But it just made him feel extra loved that you genuinely liked him for him. He didn’t really care about your money✨

* He’s actually very humble when it comes to gift receiving. Because he’s not used to such nice and thoughtful gifts! So whether it’s a simple rose to a HUGE teddy bear to even the finest wardrobe? He’s a blushing mess, always left surprised and still asking if it’s really ok. (Please reassure him!)

* Despite you spoiling him, he sure as hell is spoiling you too. You definitely have received gifts over time. His gifts weren’t as expensive…..but the thing is, the value of it is something money can’t buy✨ he’s made custom clothes just for you, stitched by HIS hands. Adorable picture books of you, him, even family and friends! Oh and the cuddles, smooches, and fun dates?!

* He’s a romantic guy and he’ll make sure to bring a smile to your face and give you the love you deserve

Mini story time:

“Huh? You have another surprise for me? Goodness you spoil me too much love….” Lust giggles.

You laugh too, “Well I can’t help it. Your smile and blush makes it worth it everytime.”

Lust playfully nudges you, “Oh stop it you!”

You laugh and take his hand in your own. You knew this surprise was probably the biggest you’ve ever given him. But it was an investment that you won’t regret. And you knew Lust would make you proud. So you walk him up to an old building. It looked refurbished and cleaned up already. You open the door with the key.

He looked around in wonder, “Wow…..what place is this?”

“Your new boutique,” You said casually. Lust looked at you in shock. You knew he loved making clothes…..”You have talent Lust. Everyone deserves to know you have something special…..and I’m willing to help show that.”

He actually tears up from this….this was….too sweet. He’s NEVER had such kindness in his life before. You made him feel…..like he actually had value. He hugged you and smiled with purple tears coming down.

“Thank you”

Killer:

* Ah here we go with this lil shet. Now with him, y’all probably got together randomly. He probably saw you on his day off and threw you a pick up line for funsies. Next thing you know, you both exchange numbers and become true love birds. Funniest part? It took him AWHILE to learn you were even rich- probably like a few weeks or a month. He thought it was cool and didn’t really think much of it.

* Now what shocked him was you spoiling him- he literally joked about wanting a PS5. Which he did want but he ain’t got no money- next day? Boom. You pop up with a whole ass PS5 with games he might like. His initial reaction: “Heh nice prank babe”. Oh- oh you weren’t? HOLY SHIT YOU ACTUALLY GOT HIM-?! The way he excitedly jumped up like a happy puppy, you knew you had to spoil him more-

* He absolutely shows you off to his team. Mostly out of a joke but also to be an absolute dick- like just smirking at his teammates, hell even his BOSS, just having an arm around your shoulder to say “My bae spoils and loves me soooooo much✨” Everyone wishes to beat your bonefriend’s ass- not you though. Because honestly you probably spoil them too. So you get a pass. And your bonefriend looking like he done got betrayed-

* He’s a silly little gremlin and honestly he does feel bad that he can’t spoil you more. So he’ll make sure to make you laugh and have fun no matter what.

Mini story time:

Ah the date went well as usual. A fancy dinner, a stop at an ice cream shop, and a walk through the park together under the moonlight. And you couldn’t stop laughing. Killer had been making you laugh the entire night, talking about his latest shenanigans with his group.

“And then after Dust wiped off the pie cream, he chased us ALL around the castle until Nightmare nabbed us and put us in our rooms! Dadmare moment✨,” He said with a chuckle.

“PFFFFT- Dadmare?!” You laughed again, “Killer you’re so cute….but god you’re chaotic-“

Killer takes your hand then kisses it, winking at you, “A chaotic cutie that you love so much~”

You blush but smile, “Yeah…..someone I will always cherish.” You swore for a moment, his eye lights popped up and his target like soul shifted into a heart for a moment.

“………heh. You’re too sweet babe…..,” He says with a nervous chuckle. You were surprised….but you couldn’t resist spoiling him one more time: with a kiss on the cheek. His skull flared with a beautiful shade of red. You giggle as he hid his face and tried acting cool about it. Ah……

You truly love this skellie.

[gachagon]

Who had Eva's Blackmail?

Spoilers for Project: Eden's Garden chapter 1

During the first chapter, we're introduced to the Motive for the characters to begin the killing game, which are these envelopes that contain a photo and a message on the back that reveals their "worst" secret. Damon had Wolfgang's, Wolfgang had Jeans, Kai had Cassidy's, Eloise had Grace's, and Eva had Desmond's.

During the class trial, they tried repeatedly to bring up the motives but nobody ever revealed who had who's motive, or what that motive was aside from Wolfgang's. So that begs the question, who had Eva's blackmail? The person she ended up killing didn't have her blackmail, and as far as Damon is aware she was never actually approached by anyone who handed her an envelope. Meaning someone had Eva's blackmail, but then didn't give it to her.

The reason I think it's important to wonder who had Eva's blackmail is because I believe that her "secret" was something that we haven't heard before. Tozu said that all of the secrets were things that everyone had already unknowingly admitted to, and Eva's "biggest" secret (That being that she's not the Ultimate Liar, but really the Ultimate Mathlete) had been revealed to everyone all at once. This would make her envelope being the same information that everyone already knows kind of useless. (That, and Tozu wouldn't put her secret on the school tablet where everyone could just access the information, because it's supposed to be personal blackmail, if everyone can just know in an instant, it's worthless as a motive)

So Eva's secret has to be something that we don't know right now. I don't believe that Eva's secret was that she "Used to eat in the bathroom stalls" either, like some people have proposed. Because Eva told Damon that after the Motives were introduced, not before. Meaning, her secret could only be something from before the motives were introduced, which means it's something we don't know about yet.

If Eva's secret was something that was really just "lame" or embarrassing, I feel like the person who had her envelope would've followed what Wolfgang asked of everyone, which was to just give her her Blackmail. Unless, her secret was something that was really, REALLY bad. In which case, they either held onto it or showed it to Wolfgang.

The reason I think whoever had Eva's blackmail probably showed it to Wolfgang is because Wolfgang made a declaration to Desmond when they discovered that nobody's doors had locks on them. He said to Desmond to just bring any clues or suspicious things to him first next time instead of bothering everyone, and so if the person who received Eva's blackmail was really worried about it and didn't want to confront her about it, I could see them either holding onto it and keeping it a secret, or just showing Wolfgang for peace of mind.

I guess the only reason I'm so fixated on what Eva's secret was is because it could reveal more about her potential motivations. I always thought, much like Wenona pointed out, that her killing Wolfgang and framing Diana over something so frivolous as her own insecurity about her talent is a little stupid. So i just feel there has to be more to it than just that, you know? I also still think Wolfgang's actions during the whole note exchange thing are a bit suspicious in and of itself.

[yuurei20]

Hi!

I was wondering what the book 5 bonuses were? I know they were originally in the JP server, but cut out of the EN server. Are you able to touch on this topic?

Thank you 💜

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

Were maybe the Book 5 bonuses in question the “Clear Main Story: Book 5 with extra bonus" gifts? 👀 (Here is a YouTube video about this!)

These "extra bonus" gifts for clearing Book 5 were what EN players would have received in exchange for clearing all the challenges associated with the "Everybody Yaho!" rhythmic that was removed from the EN server, seen below!

As EN players did not have the rhythmic they could not earn the bonuses, so EN server instead provided the bonuses to players all at once at the conclusion of Book 5 as extra rewards ^^

(I hope I did not misunderstand the question 💦 my apologies if so!)

And it was not just the rhythmic! Neige's song plays in the background of that entire scene in the original game, replaced with common background music for EN server, and there is a scene of all the characters singing together at the end that was also removed.

Tumblr only allows for one video per post, so here is the Rhythmic and Missing scene together on YouTube!

Note:

It is a common theory that the rhythmic was removed due to copyright issues, but this rumor is unfounded: it has never been confirmed by Aniplex USA (or anyone), and it is always better to not repeat unofficial information as fact.

I have also seen rumors that it may be related to usage rights outlined in Neige's VAs contract, or to a disagreement between Disney JP and Disney HQ, etc., but at the end of the day we do not know the real reason and it unlikely that we will ever be told ^^

And this connects to the official OST: It has, pointedly, 149 tracks instead of 150, and Everybody Yaho! is not there!

There is not a "Japan release" and "Overseas release" of the OST--it is all the same product, with overseas buyers even receiving the lyrics booklet in Japanese!

Was "Everybody Yaho!" originally supposed to be a part of the set, but ultimately removed due to whatever reason it is that that song is being kept from EN speakers? 🧐

We do not know and probably never will, but it is most interesting to think about ^^

Another interesting point we saw with the OST: Most of the song titles were updated to reflect EN-server's changes! (Spectral Soiree, for example, was originally "Endless Halloween.")

So JP players are buying songs with new names written in a foreign language, with one exception: Wish Resound 👀

(While EN fans are left to wonder "Why is there a song here in a language I do not know?" about 1 song, JP fans are possibly thinking the same thing about the other 148 ww)

Unlike every other song on the OST the name of Glorious Masquerade song "Wish Resound" was not translated into English and instead intentionally left in Japanese!

The lyrics of "Piece of My World" that appeared on JP server were infamously removed from EN (during the audition scenes of Book 5), and the lyrics to "Wish Resound" were also removed from EN's Glorious Masquerade, replaced with "*singing*"!

Are the removal of the lyrics and "Everybody Yaho!" somehow connected? Related to a complicated web of usage rights and copyright laws, perhaps, that do not allow them to be published outside of JP server? 🧐

Any explanations you may see (including the ones in this post) are all conjecture and unfounded rumors invented by fans looking for answers, but it is most interesting, for sure! ^^

[gothlcsan]

Good Boy ; JEONG YUNHO

PAIRING sub!yunho , dom afab!reader

GENRE 18+ smut

SYNOPSIS Yunho is a sophomore in college, frequently stressed out by his younger brother, Yejun. He comes home to a living room full of freshmen and one happens to catch his eye, you.

WORD COUNT 4106

WARNINGS puppy play, masturbation, dom!reader, sub!yunho, overstimulation, nipple play, degradation, rough sex, penetration (strap), unprotected sex (no mention of protection), voyeurism, face smacking, blowjob, biting and kissing

♫ death wish - role model

a/n day ten of kinktober ! i know i said i wouldn’t repeat idols but .. he’s my ult and makes me sick and twirl my hair. > < so, let me pass this one time.. if you enjoyed please consider liking and reblogging! thank you. ♡ ～（ゝ。∂)

“Yejun, you cannot be serious right now.”

Yunho is the oldest out of two sons which comes with its own set of responsibilities and this moment was a perfect example of those unspoken responsibilities. He stares in horror, his younger brother surrounded by his friends with snack wrappers everywhere on the floor, empty bottles of soju dripping onto the table. His brother, Yejun, smiles at him gesturing towards with an already emptied soju bottle.

“Do you mind getting me another?”

Yunho yanks it out of his hand and slams it down onto the table, yelling at them to get up, clean their mess and leave. Yejun whines that it’s not fair but is quickly silenced once he catches his older brother’s expression, instantly sobering up and running to sort their trash. It was midterm season and an already stressed Yunho wanted nothing more than to just go home, hide in his room, and relax. He wasn’t expecting to unlock the front door and be met with his brother and his group of friends piled around the tv playing games.

Once the living room was cleaned and reorganized he had calmed down enough to agree to let Yejun’s friends stay but under the conditions they had to leave before he woke up. He didn’t have anything against them nor disliked them, he just knew they were going to be extremely loud and he wouldn’t be able to relax. Sighing, Yunho turns to finally head to his room but stops as he hears his brother call his name, turning back around, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you not bring your boyfriend with you today? I was hoping you would have so I could show these idiots on how to actually play this game.”

Yunho blinks before sighing with his hand pressed firmly against his forehead.

“Yejun, for the millionth time, Mingi and I aren’t dating and unlike you, he does more than game so he couldn’t come over today.” Yunho walks away entering his room but not before shaking from a shiver running up his spine swearing that the younger freshman sitting next to Yejun was staring into his soul.

For the following week, Yunho becomes aware of the freshman. She was the newest addition of his brother’s friend group, the silent type but clearly had a staring problem Yunho concluded. They ran into each other here and there, especially at home, you walking in on Yunho getting changed in the bathroom, both blushing and yelling apologies at each other. Exchanging numbers in case you needed anything from Yejun, Yunho wondered why you wouldn’t just text his brother but you were attractive and he wasn’t opposed to receiving texts from you.

Days go by without incident, finally seeming to go back to normal until Yunho sees his brother's friends again, being a day before their college exams, Yunho tiredly trudging into his bedroom not stopping once to say hi to anyone. He knew he had to study but he couldn’t get the motivation to, falling face first into bed as he allowed his eyelids to shut.

He’s restless, not being able to relax nor sleep from the loud chaos coming from the living room, Yunho huffs in irritation and turns to lay on his back, biting his lip as he takes his cock out. Moaning involuntarily behind his hand, he begins to stroke himself slowly. Stress melted from his body as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, no longer holding his moans back by much, rocking his hips to meet flush with his hand. Yunho shakes as he stops mid stroke knowing rubbing one off wouldn’t be enough, opening the drawer of his nightstand to grab his wand, body shaking at the expected pleasure from just turning it on, the vibrations making his stomach tighten.

Placing the wand directly onto the head of his cock, Yunho squeaks and moves it away, he was more sensitive than he imagined. He plays with the settings before he’s lost in his own pleasure, head hanging to the side with drool on his cheek, wand pressed against his cock, two fingers working his hole. Moans fall from his lips, panting as he feels his stomach tighten and thighs shake. Yunho doesn’t realize how loud he’s being, fingers desperately working to help chase his high, wand pressed against his groin as he goes back to stroking himself, using his precum to lube himself to jerk off faster. His head was in the clouds, chest rising and falling quickly as he pants with each stroke. He knew he was going to break, a third finger being more than enough for Yunho to cry out and cum onto his chest, the wand making him shake from the overstimulation.

It’s minutes of laying still and catching his breath before he’s sitting up and grabbing a tissue off his desk, cleaning himself up. It’s a couple minutes later when he realizes his door in fact did not shut entirely behind him when he came in, fear sinking into Yunho’s stomach. Has anyone heard him?

Yunho waits roughly thirty minutes before he opens his door further, poking his head out and looking both ways, darting to the bathroom. He properly cleans himself up, giving himself a pep talk before walking quietly into the kitchen, grabbing a water from the fridge; jumping out of his skin when he closes the door and turns to go back to his room, coming face to face with you.

“Can I help you?” Yunho asks with uncertainty, confused on why you were standing there. You point over his shoulder behind him towards the fridge, moving past Yunho.

“I was going to grab a snack if that’s okay with you, Yunho. It is, right?”

Yunho only responds with a quick nod, blush creeping up his neck. He couldn’t explain it but you made him feel embarrassed, even when he did normal day to day tasks. He watched quietly sipping from his water while you walked around the kitchen preparing snacks for your friends, turning around suddenly with a smirk on your lips.

“Do you need something, Yunho?”

Reality sets in for Yunho and he frantically shakes his head, leaving the room, not looking behind himself once until he slams his bedroom door behind him. A second wave of reality washes over him as he jumps into bed. Cursing at himself for getting flustered, hating himself for having a hardon for his brother’s best friend.

It has been months since their last awkward encounter, a few weeks since Yunho started purposely avoiding you. He’d stay busy in class all day, going out with Mingi and San at night just to hopefully avoid running into you. He hated how bothered he was by you, he hated more the idea of admitting he could possibly have a thing for the younger, an internal battle he didn’t want to face yet. Their last real interaction being the thing that set this new daily routine of avoiding you. He wasn’t expecting to come home from a late night of studying at the library, turning the corner to his bedroom as you walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body. Yunho’s eyes widened along with his mouth as he quickly shut both and turned away to rest his head against his bedroom door.

“Oh, hi, Yunho.”

“I didn’t mean to look,” Yunho stumbles on his words, body frozen and burning up from embarrassment of gawking at you.

“It’s okay, Yunho. It’s your house so I’m sorry for freaking you out. I just got back with your brother from working out so I wanted to shower.”

Yunho opens his eyes and turns around, holding his breath as he struggles to keep eye contact. Your hair is wet allowing water droplets to fall and cascade down to your collarbones and exposed chest, causing Yunho’s cheeks to flare up from shyness.

“It’s ok, I just wasn’t expecting it, you look great. Sorry, I got to go. Study, I have to study.” Yunho opens his bedroom door, leaving you alone in the hallway before you even get a word in. Chuckling softly as you walk down the hallway into the guest bedroom thinking Yunho was the cutest thing on earth.

So, it wasn’t that much of a shock once Yunho started avoiding you more seriously, doing everything he could to ensure their paths wouldn’t cross. He felt awkward, staring at you and for the vulgar images he thought of while stroking himself. Yunho felt dirty and didn’t want to continue feeling as such so his brilliant course of action was to completely forget you ever existed. Which he failed at clearly and very quickly.

Once again, Yunho laid in bed with his hand covering his mouth as he moaned profusely as he stroked himself. Sweat beaded along his eyebrow as he continued to chase his high. His mind was in a haze, so caught up in his high he nearly screamed as you crossed his mind.

Why now?

Yunho felt disgusting but his hand continued to stroke himself, faster now, he didn’t want to acknowledge how hard he had gotten from the idea of the two of you having sex. Imagining how you would feel pinning him down, your lips exploring his skin and leaving open mouth kisses onto the skin on his inner thighs. He wanted to feel small against you (despite the respectable height difference), his body shaking as he slips from any reality where he was in control.

“Fuck, y/n, please,” Yunho groans with a whisper as he reaches his high, a jumble of swear words and moans falling from his lips as he came onto his hand. Turning his head and gasping when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes. Yunho scrambles to cover himself with a blanket, you quickly slamming the door and apologizing saying that you hadn’t seen anything - - that Yejun wanted him. He was doing so well at avoiding you and the one night he put his guard down, you just had to show up. He felt disgusted and that feeling left Yunho wanting to violently throw up.

He quickly cleans himself up and pushes past you to wash his hands, ignoring you entirely to go see his brother. He had decided that he was not going to allow himself to let you affect him anymore. Which, once again, he fails at miserably. The universe must hate him or you’re a literal devil, proven clear a few weeks later when Yunho is now staring at you in horror as the youngest is holding a pair of puppy ears and pointing at Yunho’s closet.

“I was looking for my brother’s jacket I let you borrow. I asked Yejun to ask you and he said to just grab it because you were with your boyfriend, I am so sorry.”

Yunho angrily snatched away the ears, grabbing the jacket off his desk chair, throwing it into your direction and told you to stop being so nosy, wanting you to get out. You quickly agree and start to make your way out of Yunho’s room, stopping once Yunho calls out your name in a soft tone.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

You only smile and nod, pointing at the ears in Yunho’s hand.

“So, you aren’t into pet play with him?”

Yunho turns into a dark shade of red, telling you to shut up and slams the door behind the younger, hearing you laugh all the way down the hallway. What a sinister prick, Yunho thought.

After their (Yunho’s) failed attempts at avoiding you, he gives up on that quest; the two of you rapidly get closer each day. The friendship was short -lived, only taking a month before they started dating. Yunho feels a lot less guilty stealing quick glances and thinking about you in his alone time. It’s not too long after when they revisit Yunho’s collection buried in the corner of his closet, Yunho embarrassingly explaining to you what pet play was, who laughed and nodded, saying you already knew what it was.

It didn’t take long before you were calling Yunho puppy.

Not that Yunho minded it, eating up every praise dished out to him.

You were always a very soft dom when it came to Yunho, it was something that Yunho admired but he wanted to see you get mad. So, he did everything he could think of to annoy you, not listening, acting oblivious to others flirting with him, laughing too hard at stranger’s jokes. This was quickly caught by you, who was now not only annoyed by your boyfriend acting out of character, but annoyed with Yunho's seemingly carefree attitude.

Once they get home, you seem awfully quiet, and Yunho starts to worry that he genuinely messed up and upset you, quietly following you to your shared bedroom. Yunho jumps as he feels an arm snake around his waist, bringing him down to sit on their lap, turning to stare at you. Excitement and fear crept in Yunho’s stomach, your face was unreadable and calm, too calm. Shivers running over his body as you worked. No words are spoken as you place a collar around Yunho’s neck, leash attached to the front, Silently moving him off your lap, placing him down onto the bed to retrieve the ears in the closet. You placed them onto the top of Yunho's head, adjusting them to sit perfectly. Firmly telling him to lift his arms, Yunho listening to these orders, biting his lip willst you lift off his shirt. He blushes profusely when you help him remove his jeans, sitting back onto the bed quietly watching as you take off your own shirt. Yunho dug his nails into his thighs as his eyes darted to yours. They're thick, pretty, Yunho wants to kiss them but he’s brought to you as you move to stand directly in front of him. You wrap the leash around your dominant hand, yanking on it, causing Yunho to slam down onto his knees, a gasp of air coming from the elder’s chest.

“Why can’t you be a good puppy? Answer me, Yunho.”

“I didn’t mean,” he’s silenced with a second yank on the leash, hissing as he slams chest first against your knees.

“Dogs don’t speak now do they?”

Yunho swallows nervously and barks. It’s deep, yet quiet which clearly isn’t what you wanted, eyebrows furrowed as you stand up and press the heel of your foot against Yunho’s lap.

“Again.”

Yunho barks until his throat hurts, you mockingly laughing as you feel him harden against your foot, precum soaking through his boxers.

You remove your foot and push Yunho backwards, shaking your head then squatting down in front of him, placing a hand under his chin, tilting Yunho’s head back to get a real good look into his eyes.

“You’re not trying too hard on being my favourite puppy, hm? Will I need to bring Yejun in here to show you how a real puppy acts?”

Yunho whines, sniffling as he shakes his head. He places his head onto the top of your knees and nuzzles the skin there, praying that you will forgive him for his actions. He knows that you and his brother never had anything past a platonic relationship, you using it to only rile Yunho up with his possessiveness.

“Sit up.”

Yunho springs up instantly and sits politely, resting his hands flat against his thighs as he waits for his next set of instructions. Watching closely as you walk around the room grabbing various things and placing them onto Yunho’s bed, his stomach burning red hot thinking of what you could possibly do to him.

“Up. Up, pup.”

Yunho crawls onto the bed, sitting politely on the edge on all fours, staring up at you who’s positioned yourself at the foot of the bed. Your eyes are dark, something that excited Yunho so much it sent shivers throughout his entire body. He sits obediently whilst you brush back the hair that sat on his face, responding to each touch with a hum.

“Do you remember what happens to puppies that talk back to their owners, pup?”

Yunho takes too long to answer, resulting in a sharp slap against his thighs, the cool leather whip leaving marks against them. He bites his lip knowing making any sort of noise would result in another hit. You ask again, Yunho scrambling for words that come out incoherently resulting in another hit. You demand him to strip off his boxers, wanting to see his thighs. The two of you continue to go back and forth for a few minutes, Yunho’s mind so blurred he can’t even think while you get fed up and grab him by the back of his hair, bringing his face towards your own, only being a mere few centimeters apart.

“Maybe this will help you remember, pup.”

Yunho’s eyes widen as his mouth is filled with your strap, tears stinging the corner of his eyes at the sensation. His throat burns as you rock your hips making Yunho take every inch of it, fingers tight around the puppy’s hair. It’s a delicious feeling that Yunho enjoys much more than he’d like to admit, gagging around the younger as his mind blurs even more. He reaches down to stroke himself, pin like needle sensations running through his hands from you striking him with the whip. It makes you pull out of Yunho’s mouth, the puppy whining at the sudden loss of fullness, looking up at you with a confused look.

“You can’t even listen for five minutes can you, ungrateful brat.” you hissed before grabbing Yunho’s cock into your hand, squeezing the head into harshly.

“It’s a shame you have a huge cock, you know? You can’t even use it properly.”

Yunho whines hungrily at your degrading words, fighting the urge to buck his hips up into the younger’s grip. You’re quick to notice the pup’s eagerness, chuckling, dropping your hold and slapping Yunho’s cock watching as the elder yelps. His ears are filled by your degrading words as he slips from any hold of reality he had before, begging for you to forgive him, begging to be touched. Leaning forward a bit, you duck down to kiss Yunho on the lips, not being able to suppress the laugh falling against said lips before landing another firm slap onto Yunho’s cock.

“Now the puppy wants to listen? You’re pathetic, Jeong Yunho.”

“Please,” is all Yunho could shakily muster out, tears running down his cheeks. His cock flushed red against his abdomen, begging to be touched. You pull Yunho towards yourself, bringing his legs to hang off the bed, then painfully slowly starts climbing onto Yunho’s lap.

“Master, please.” Yunho groans as he begs, panting at the closeness of their bodies makes him feel as if he’s on fire. Yet, you have none of it, telling him to be both quiet and be good. You shakily raise your hips and place your lube covered thighs around Yunho’s cock and press them firmly together, resulting in Yunho throwing his head back with a cry. The lewd, wet sounds of you moving your hips, thighs tight around Yunho’s cock made the elder squeeze the comforter between his fingers, body shaking like a leaf.

“Y/n-ah, please.”

Your body stiffens, looks down at Yunho with a glare, loosening your thighs and snaking a hand up to roughly grab Yunho by the throat.

“Who are you speaking to?”

Yunho apologizes quickly with tears pricking his eyes, trying to kiss the hand wrapped around his throat, not making it anywhere near close. Babbling on that you are his master, how he’s sorry for messing up, begging to be forgiven, You must’ve forgiven him because now you were shifting positions and lowering yourself to stand up off the bed. With a quick snap of your fingers, Yunho is sitting on top of you, his cock heavy on his abdomen, ears stained red from embarrassment.

Running your hands down Yunho's body, finding a home holding his thighs, Yunho groaning from the added pressure on his welts. He swallows hard as you speak to him as if he’s the dumbest person on earth, hands lifting him up and instructing Yunho to position himself prettily on the strap. You simply loved the way your much larger boyfriend looked and acted so small around you, pretty long limbs that turned limp as he melted from your fiery touch. Yunho whines as he slowly sinks himself onto your strap, clenching around the full feeling making you tilt your head back with a moan. Yunho loved how you praised him for being so good, acting as if you could feel every bit of it. Once he got used to the feeling, Yunho was rocking his hips, hands pressed against your chest as he bounced. The sound of skin slapping against skin made Yunho shiver, dipping his head down to hungrily kiss you, whining as you groped his ass, smacking one cheek. The soft jingling of the bell on Yunho’s collar was in beat with his hips, you growing impatient with Yunho’s pace, hooking a leg under his and flipping him over so that you could easily pin Yunho against the mattress.

“Let me teach you how to feel real good, pup,” you spoke softly in Yunho’s ear, kissing down from behind his ear to the center of his shoulder blades. Feeling Yunho shiver underneath you and whining from the teasing, you carefully realign the strap with Yunho’s hole before beginning to slowly push back into him.

“Master, please,” Yunho clenches the comforter between his fingers, looking over his shoulder to watch as you bottom out. He’s greedy, pushing his ass back to meet flush with your hips, who doesn’t accept Yunho’s actions. You’re quick to grab a fistful of Yunho’s pretty brown hair and yank it making him yelp and apologize instantly. It doesn’t do much good, you keeping a steady hand on Yunho’s hair while quickening your thrusts, the bells on Yunho’s collar and doggy ears filling out the room. Yunho babbles about how close he is, the comforter now clenched tight between his teeth, you only continuing to drill into Yunho. Poor pup could barely breathe from begging to cum, crying over how full he felt, how good you made him feel. You knew Yunho was close and fucked out, his glassy eyes full of tears and drool pooling in the space between his cheek and the comforter. His thighs quivering and sweat causing his hair to stick to his face. You couldn’t help but touch all of Yunho with exploring hands, encouraging your pretty pup to hold on a little longer, spanking the side of his thigh as Yunho shakes his head.

“You’ll do as I say, brat. Now, be a good puppy and wait until I tell you otherwise.”

You pull out, receiving a whine from Yunho, rolling him onto his back. Placing your hand against Yunho’s stomach, moving it down slowly before wrapping a hand around Yunho’s flushed red cock, Yunho screaming for permission to cum, hiccuping and crying. You stroke Yunho slowly before stopping to align yourself back into Yunho’s hole, hips snapping against Yunho's pretty thighs, telling the pup to beg louder and then maybe the heavens will hear his prayers.

“Master, please, please,” Yunho begged too fucked out to form complete sentences, tears staining his cheeks. You spank his thigh before leaving toward Yunho, whispering into his ear.

“Cum, you greedy pup.”

Yunho moans at your growling, deep voice, shivering as his body gives out and cums. However you’re not slowing your thrusts once until your own thighs quiver, sinking teeth into Yunho's shoulder when you lean down, cumming. Panting, the two of you fall onto the bed. You don't bother pulling out, cuddling Yunho from behind, letting the older boy warm the strap, kissing the back of Yunho’s neck and reassuring him that he did amazingly well. Love confessions getting lost between kisses and giggles. You finally pull out, smiling as Yunho moans, the boy giving you puppy eyes as he whines from feeling empty. Pressing kisses all over his face, telling him to let you clean up, Yunho pouting and grabbing you by the wrist. You’re a bit shocked by the sudden movement but fall into a bigger shock as Yunho presses your fingers against his now gaping hole, pouting with the biggest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Please, master, keep me full.”

And who would be the biggest idiot to tell this puppy no?

[sol-consort]

Isekaied to Mass Effect concept, imagining all the different possible scenarios, the people you could run into—the awkward situations of a human clearly wearing what'd be considered extremely vintage clothes and you know, just hanging around.

Then, there is the problem of having zero credits to your name. All the money you came with is basically worthless. But that's fine, that's easily solvable. Just get a side job at any place for a night or two, then go to the casino and exploit the Quasar machines using the same spreadsheet guide someone posted on the subreddit that we all surely have saved to our phones, I can't be the only one who p—

But then, if you do get a job, they'll need a form of government identification or something to pay you online. You don't have any ID, passport, driver licence, or even a birth certificate.

Okay. Fine. Just get a shady under-the-table job that will get you paid in hush-hush money without all the needed government papers—except, you don't even have an omni-tool to receive the payment on. Let alone open doors with and buy things legally.

So you can only get paid and pay for things in cash, physical pre-paid debt cards of credit.

Capitalism would've been the greatest boss for Isekai you to face, wasn't it for the one major flaw in this whole plan.

The biggest elephant in the room.

The translator.

... Or lack of it.

You're not going to understand shit, I hope you're curious enough to wonder what a talking jellyfish without a mouth sounds like because you're about to find out.

All possible interactions with aliens will have this gaint language barrier in the middle. If you're lucky, you stumbled upon humans, but even then, they could speak any of the thousands of languages human have.

You're just gonna be awkwardly nodding left and right, not knowing what this turian who suddenly sat next to you on the bench wants, or what that asari woman who crossed the road to talk to you is saying.

I don't think anyone would ever buy your story of being isekai-ed, even if you try to soften the blow by claiming to be a time traveller, best case scenario is mental institution, so you'll be taking that secret to the grave.

Hopefully, you don't accidentally agree to sell your left kidney in exchange for peanut shells, a threesome with two krogans, or joining a hanar cult.

Now, assuming everything goes right and lady luck smiles your way, now you have forged/bribed/stole your way into having "offical" documents, a decent amount of money to your name, and you've developed very keen understanding of the art of bullshiting, guessing, and vague body gestures, you have successfully assimilated into the posh human population of the Citadel in Mass Effect.

The real question is. Would you keep enjoying your average but comfortable lifestyle, find a cute alien partner to settle down with, and just have a good time in general.

Or would you—you a player of Mass Effect who has finished the trilogy and is aware of the canonical timeline of events in this game—try to alter the future? To do something about the looming threat of the reapers?

Just to clarify, no, you're not Shepard. You're you. Whatever you are now is whatever you'll be there. Shepard does exist there, and all the characters do. You get yoinked into Mass Effect just around the start of the game, aka the first geth attack on Eden Prime.

[mistymem0ryy]

Spartan General!Capitano x Athenian Noblewoman!Reader 

Summary: After being forced into an arranged marriage with a politician much beyond your years, you find yourself wasting away as you fulfill the role of proper and noble wife, but as the war that had been waged far away from your land finally reaches the walls that protect your abode you find yourself faced with someone you should have forgotten long ago.

Warnings: descriptions of war, messy brain rot at the beginning in order to explain the historical setting for those that aren't familiar with Ancient Greek history.

Author’s note: do not get discouraged by the initial discussion of ancient wars trust me it gets better along the way – source: trust me bro

No beta we are slain like Reader’s husband

Ok so listen…. I’ve recently been delving again into Thucydides’ “History of the Peloponnesian War”, which is a historical book regarding the Peloponnesian War between two leagues of city states in Ancient Greece… stay, trust me this is worth your time….

As we know the head Polis (city-state) of each enemy league in this war was Athens, renowned for the flourishing of philosophy alongside ancient tragedy and comedy, and Sparta, remembered for its glorious soldiers and also said to be a state where children were examined upon birth and if they did not fit the expected apparent physical necessities for Sparta then they were exposed to the elements and left to die…

Now imagine this…

Spartan General!Capitano and Athenian Noblewoman!Reader 

As we know arranged marriages between young girls and older men was the norm in ancient times, especially between noble families that needed to fortify their stance in the games of power, so we have noblewoman Reader in a rather unhappy marriage with a nobleman from another Athenian family which during the war is called into battle against the Spartans and their allies.

Reader’s husband is slain in battle… I wonder by whose hand… 

And even though the majority of noble people would be protected under fortified walls alongside a good force of protectors, we don’t really need to follow history word for word now do we…

Let’s say somehow an army of Spartan warriors is capable of penetrating and invading a rich part of Athens, anyone that has read ‘The Iliad’ knows what happens next… 

After the slaughtering of the majority of the male members of the village, the enslavement of children and women would be next, but instead of being sold into slavery in ports far away from your homeland, there was always a rather more luxurious form of slavery and that was the one of being take as war booty.

Capitano would feel as if it were his duty to take you as his, since he was the one responsible for the death of your husband after all, a man that in ancient times would have legally been seen as your sole providor. ( And wouldn't you rather be the wife of a Spartan General instead of an Athenian Politician? At least in Sparta women can legally own and inherit land… )

This isn’t the first time you met Capitano, before the conflicts of war the exchange of goods and people between different city states was much more common, religious festivals, noble parties, sport competitions and much more.

Another crucial aspect of ancient society was also that of hospitality, we can see it expressed many a times in Homer’s ‘Odyssey’, to be allowed a stay in someone’s house is a sort of social contract, for now the family of your hospitable friend expects your family to one day open their arms to receive a member of their own conglomerate as an expression of mutual hospitality.

So let’s say that years before the war during the Persian invasions, Capitano’s father helped one of your grandfathers during the incessant battles, offering him and some of his soldiers a place to rest and nourish while preparing for the battlefield. 

According to the law of hospitality your family is now expected to one day receive anyone from Capitano’s blood when in need of aid.

And this happens during a religious festival in Athens, you and Capitano are still quite young, the conversation of marriage has not yet reached your maiden ears and Capitano has just enrolled in one of Sparta’s many academies to become more adapt to the military role that he will one day fulfill due to his family’s legacy.

Since you both are still young you are allowed to interact with each other and play around, Capitano wasn’t exactly an extroverted child, even as a kid his stoic mannerisms were already taking root due to the nature of his education, but somehow you were capable of brewing within his being a genuine childish wish to let go and enjoy nature’s gifts while he still could. 

The stay was prolonged during the festival and you found yourself becoming someone young Capitano considered a genuine friend, you did not fear him due to his unnatural strength for a child nor did you fall on your knees and worshiped him the moment you heard his family name, you were kind and enveloped by the blessings of Artemis, something rare within Spartan walls.

Though after the festival you could both have exchanged letters, according to social expectation such an act was not looked upon with kind eyes. 

You gave Capitano a parting gift, one of your most precious pieces of jewelry for him to keep (something your mother could never find out about), in childlike wonder he made you promise that you would not forget him and that in return he would not forget the kindness that you had shown him.

Capitano waited, he waited for years, he waited until he reached the age of adulthood and was no longer looked upon as a boy but as a man, but perhaps, he waited too long.

His one plan was to attain glory in battle and utilize his prestige as a way of convincing your father that he was deserving of your hand, though Capitano was of noble blood the fact that he was a Spartan could not be ignored, any noble in their sane mind would rather marry one of their children within their own city state than seeing themselves forced to sending them away into a Polis far away for their family home.

By the time Capitano was climbing the ranks and being cheered on by his fellow Spartans for his strength and technique in battle, he could not help but look into the Northern stars and painstakingly wait for the day in which you both could reunite.

He received a letter from one of his fellow Spartans that was spending some time in the city of Athens, informing him of your marriage to come…

The vile thing was more than twice your age, noble or not, Capitano saw him as a plague that must be eradicated from this earth to preserve your pure soul. 

It was the first time anyone saw Capitano genuinely lose his grip upon his stoic façade, and give into a side of himself kept only for the thrill of battle, kept only for the dance between him and death…

Capitano couldn’t feel what he was doing, he believed his rage had taken his own vessel as a puppet and maneuvered him around according to its cunning wish.

By the end of that evening 12 healers were rushing around Capitano’s family’s estate, doing their best to treat his wounds so as to not leave any major scars behind…

Capitano was confined to a monitored room for nearly a month, by the end of his treatment his father found it difficult to face his own son, there was nothing to be said, that evening would not be discussed in public but it certainly wouldn’t be erased from the minds of those unlucky enough to witness it.

Capitano heard the sound of clashing chains and the following sound of a closing door. His father had left something for him right upon his bedside table and retired with no commentary.

Capitano preferred it that way, he didn’t need the words of others to confirm what he already knew.

The state of the letter, the state of the dining room, the state of his face… 

Better to not linger upon it for long.

Capitano decides that this will not be the end, it is far from it. He will not allow this cruel world to encage you alongside that vermin when you were born to bless the world with your charm… or at least, be pitiful enough to bless him with it.

He finally looks to his right and for a split second an expression of conflicting surprise takes over his features, out of all possible ways to remediate this problem he could not help but see his father’s decision as the most practical approach.

Besides the flowery accessory that has taken his bedside table as his home for countless years, there is a towering figure that looms within the vicinity.

He must remind himself to congratulate the craftsman later on during the week.

For he has never seen a Helmet as rectified and as ominous as the helmet that sits besides your parting gift. 

♡ ♡

By the time you saw the looming figure within your vicinity you had lost authority over your own limbs. 

You were supposed to be safe. 

The strength of the walls should have been capable of rivaling that of the Cyclopes.

All you could smell was blood, houses being raided left and right, the cries of children for their dying fathers and stolen mothers.

For the first time in a while you are glad that you were never able to conceive. 

To watch your own child being ripped from your grasp by a Spartan clad in bloodied armor would have been the end of you.

You are all being taken to the Spartan camp, the city’s ruins will not even house the cry of an injured owl.

While the yells of Spartan soldiers ordering you all to move forward invade your ears relentlessly you watch as side glances are throwed in your direction, a certain coolness envelops your previously adrenaline filled body, the heat that dominated every layer of skin escapes as if threatened to do so.

It takes you some seconds to realize that the sun is no longer hammering into your skin with its unforgiving rays, you wished you could pronounce it a temporary blessing of Helios, perhaps even Apollo had taken pity upon your kind, but the growing shade that enveloped beyond the frame of your own told you anything you had to know. 

Someone was standing right behind you, and you had no idea if they were beast or human. 

You refuse to turn your head towards the source of the looming shadow, you would rather die in blissful ignorance now than to live long enough to reach any foreign camp where not even your title could be melted into a shield.

A freezing armored hand reached towards your chin, though it was apparent that those hands were molded for battle, the gentle care with which they carried their task was the real source of surprise.

Slowly and carefully your face was directed upwards, as if the fragility of your composition had increased ten fold, not even your own husband dared treat you with such tenderness.

You already knew what war helmets looked like, though every city state had their own garments of war and shields marked by the symbols of their homeland, there was never much change when it came to war helmets, and yet, you have never seen anything near to the one that hides the void that you suspect is now carefully inspecting your panicked features. 

You feel warm.

A certain warmth feels your body as you recognize the flower garment that decorates the upper part of the helmet.

You can feel the arrival of a headache.

A deep voice escapes from the confines of the helmet.

Though not common for every woman, you had been blessed with the opportunity of learning how to both read and write, your tutors exposed you to a grand variety of noble dialects and literary works before you even knew the duties of those of the cursed sex.

But that language… It was clearly Spartan Greek, most probably a rural dialect since you weren't capable of translating it, but that voice… it was not fit for such a tongue… whatever is being said, this speaker does not wish for you to know.

You can feel your legs give into the ground, before you are met with your own downfall you are swiftly caught by a pair of rigid arms. 

For how many days did they encircle the city?

For how long did they ravage the elegantly crafted buildings of which now only ash remains?

When was the last time you ate without the fear of being poisoned?

When was the last time you slept without the fear of being killed in your bed?

Your body is pressed against fresh bronze, a swift breeze tickles your skin as you are carried away from the crowd, if there are any protests against your taking then none is loud enough for you to hear.

 Though you are sure that the same hands that hold you must have slaughtered countless men you cannot detect any ill intention from this stranger, he does not carry the smell of death upon him and there is not a single blotch of blood protruding from his frame.

You think of closing your eyes and pronouncing a prayer, but who would you dedicate your hymn to… The Gods were clearly not on your side and you fear no dear ancestor could aid from this situation. 

Not even your husband could help you know, his body must be buried beneath unforgiving Gaya alongside the corpses of countless allies.

He will not receive the proper burial. 

Hades will not welcome him into his domain.

His soul has been damned to wander the mortal realm, unseen and forgotten.

You cannot find within yourself any sort of emotion that a mourning widow should display when faced with such a tragedy.

You can feel the approach of sleep.

And as your eyes give in to exhaustion, your heart enforces into your mind something that you have been forcibly keeping away from your thoughts…

You know that the arms that protect you belong to no stranger… but perhaps for your sake, to feign ignorance would be for the best…

Perhaps, you won't even have to resort to such a thing… If the fates are kind then once you fall into the realm of dreams while in the arms of a stranger you will then wake up in the embrace of Kharon instead.

Final Author's notes: I am dead, I wrote this after reading Aristophanes for a whole morning, my brain is in shambles, it was supposed to be a small rambling but I ended up getting excited about it, I am going to take a benuron now, my mind palace is deteorating but at least Spartan General!Capitano <3333

[rosetinteddrms]

[ you've received a message from ] : rose ･ * . ･ ✤︎

[ subject ] : life updates, exchange & free readings

click the button down below to open !

hey so i know it's been a minute since i've been active... and i know this isn't another pac, but ! anyone who wants a free or exchange reading on anything should read the rules down below and send smth in. :]

and for anyone wondering when i'll post another pac: it'll be sometime soon. i was working on the theme a little earlier. it's just that my pac's take me a minute because i just yap so much and i keep finding new energies in them. so i like, just have to write and revise them until i think it's everything that my guides were trying to tell me. ;-;

so if you don't get a spot in this, it's ok because i got smth for my dreamers cooking up soon. also, because a new semester is starting, i'll definitely be using this account as a way to stay sane, so expect more frequent updates :s

[ CLOSED ] the requirements for the free readings are:

if it's more then one person, (eg. you + someone, someone + someone, etc.) initials are preferred

if it's for only you, an emoji please

once you receive the reading, i would appreciate it if you gave feedback

if you are participating in this game, please have the label [ALYSSUM] at the top of the message

one [ALYSSUM] ask per person. if you send multiple questions/asks, i will not respond.

if you have a general question about me or for me or just any clarification, please have the label [PEONY] at the top of the message

anons are welcome

the first ten people to send an ask that adhere to the above rules will get a free reading that uses 3 cards :3

[ OPEN ] the requirements for the exchange readings are:

if it's more then one person, (eg. you + someone, someone + someone, etc.) initials are preferred

if it's only for you, an emoji please

you must have at least one previous tarot reading up on your blog (pacs, collective messages, etc.)

once you receive the reading, i would appreciate it if you gave feedback

if you are participating in this game, please have the label [ASTER] at the top of the dm and then introduce yourself ! (i'll do the same)

one [ASTER] dm per person. if you send multiple questions/asks, i will not respond.

if you have a general question about me or for me or just any clarification, please have the label [PEONY] at the top of the message

anons are not welcome

the first five dms that adhere to the above requirements will receive an exchange reading with 3 cards !

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Nagito Komaeda x Reader - Love Hotel

Details: V3 has the Love Hotel/Love Key scenarios - I’ve been asked to make a version for SDR2 as if it were canon in the second game as well. If you didn’t play V3 and aren’t familiar with the Love Hotel scenarios/scenes, don’t worry, Monokuma will explain the concept early on in the fanfiction below! Also, I don’t think I used any gendered terms for the reader, it just didn’t come up/wasn’t necessary with the details I was describing. So, anyone can read this with themselves in mind. 

Warnings: Spicy but not NSFW - mature themes and romance into a fade to black/implied at the end just like the actual V3 Love Hotel scenes. Would probably be Mature but not Explicit on AO3 - Also SDR2 spoilers!!!

Word Count: 4k words

When hanging out with your peers and exploring the island, you often found these little Monokuma coins tucked behind objects or hidden under things. These “Monocoins” could be exchanged at the Monomono gacha machine for prizes. Some were tiny, and some had no business even fitting inside the machine. It was a wonder how they got there. In between the stress of the killings and trials, it was nice to exchange little gifts that said “I see you, and I trust you, and I want to be closer to you” with the friends you had left. The Monomono machine often rewarded you with intriguing and seemingly targeted items. For example, when you got a magazine on beast breeding and taming, it was clearly meant for your exchanges with Gundham Tanaka. When wound gauze or a nurse’s apron dropped from the machine, it was obviously a sign to get to know Mikan.

Today’s trinket was a mystery to you: an ornate key - golden with a pink heart-shaped gem embedded onto its handle. It dropped into your hand as you popped it out of the gacha capsule that protected it. It was a nice size, probably to a door rather than say, a locket or jewelry box.

Immediately upon receiving it you began to look for what it unlocked. It didn’t seem like a gift subliminally meant for any of your friends, so instead you chose to find a little adventure in all the chaos, a treasure hunt of sorts. You’d tried little tool sheds or abandoned buildings around the first three islands, back doors or closets inside places like the market or pharmacy. The pink gem made you think of Monomi - or rather Usami. It matched her aesthetic and color scheme. You’d questioned her about it, and she seemed to draw a blank. You felt like she was being honest with you, so you moved on. A frustrating thought began brewing in your mind: maybe the key went to a door on an island that was still locked away from you and your peers. Perhaps the bridges guarded by Monobeasts blocked your path. Unfortunately, following the ongoing pattern, someone would have to die for a new island to become accessible, and that was most defintiely not worth sating your burning curiosity. And so, you asked your closer friends, such as Hajime and Chiaki, to keep an eye out for a possible clue, but ultimately let it go, tossing the key into a accessory dish on the beside table of your cabin.

Speaking of your cabin, there you were, winding down for the night in your customized little cottage in the lineup of huts at the resort. It was cozy, a personalized type of dorm room substitute decked out with items to serve and encourage the development of your Super Highschool Level talent. The cream-colored canopy bed was pretty large for single student and super comfortable, and so on days when the survivor’s guilt wasn’t weighing on your mind like a plague, it was very easy to fall asleep quite quickly.

You’d been asleep for what must’ve been at least a couple of hours when a noise startled you awake. Still groggy and half-asleep, you spot the black and white bear you all hated so very much standing in the middle of your cottage.

“What the…” your words slurred, eyes barely open. You would’ve been freaking out at his appearance, had it not been extremely normal for the bear to pop up out of nowhere. That and the fact that it was against Monokuma’s rules for him to ever hurt a student on his own left you at ease and not fearing for your life.

“Oh, great, you’re awake! Would’ve been awkward if I had to crawl up on the bed and shake ya’ to life! Phew, saves me the trouble!” He giggled in his own little mischievous way as you sat up, giving him mostly your full attention. He never left until he made his point anyway, so why waste time arguing with him for interrupting your beauty sleep?

“Alright, alright what do you want? I’m still tired! Unless someone is dead, say what you need to say and leave…” you grumbled. Monokuma bristled at that.

“How rude! My time is very valuable, you know! Since you’ve been hurting your puny little brain trying to find the solution to that Love Key over there, here I am, going out of my way to help you! You should be more appreciative!” He growled, claws displayed.

“Love Key…?” You looked to the key on your bedside table, still in a bit of a daze. “So that’s what it’s called…” Still not much of a hint, you thought.

“Yep, yep! I’ll tell you how to use it!” He perked up once again. “You see, it opens the way to a very special place! A place you’ve searched many times before… however, it’s form has now changed!”

“Hmmm…” How curious… since you had in fact checked every available area multiple times over.

“You see, if you go visit the motel on the third island right about now, you’ll find it buzzing with an aura of lust and romance!” Your brow raised as he laughed impishly. “That key you got transforms the motel into a place you can clear out some of your most carnal desires at night, but… only the one with the key and… one other person will see this change!”

“What are you talking about?!” You were only half-awake before, but now you were sure you had to still be dreaming. What an insane concept. This is what he came to say? This nonsense?

“Oh, are you starting to get worked up? Are you ready to let it all hang out?” He began to sweat, a wicked, messed up grin on his face. “Your key will unlock a particular Love Suite at the motel,” he continued, barely containing his excitement, “and you and one other person will be invited to spend the night. There, you will be a part of that person’s fantasy. They will see you as their romantic ‘ideal’ and basically just swoon all over you. Think of it as a kind of sexy dream that lets you escape the cruel reality of the killing game! It’s their escape, too though, so it’s important for you to play the role your Love Suite partner wants you to! If you break character, your dear partner may very well wake up in anguish, all pent up and frustrated! And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” He snickered.

“This all sounds very inappropriate and embarrassing, so I think I’ll pass.” You grumbled, shuffling uncomfortably in your sheets. At this point, you just wanted him to go away.

“Oh, don’t worry! What happens there, stays there. Memories are wiped when you exit. Oh, and one last thing: anyone can show up there. Any of your classmates, even those who’ve passed on.

Well now, you had to be dreaming. Memories wiped, the motel transforming, and not to mention four of your classmates were very much dead… how could they show up? Seeing the look on your face, incredulous and lost in thought, Monokuma gasped softly to grab your attention, speaking up again:

“What’s wrong? You seem skeptical. Why not try it out for yourself, then?” If Monokuma were allowed to cause a killing, you’ve sworn this was a plot to set you up. Not that it mattered in a dream, anway. “Let love take hold! Take that ol’ Love Key for a spin!”

~

After much hesitance and with Monokuma having left your cabin nearly a half hour beforehand, you were now out walking alone, leaving the resort and making your way to the third island. You tried not to disturb your other classmates in their cabins, being sure not to make any noise as it must have been well past one in the morning. Sand and gravel crunched below your shoes as you walked rather hurriedly to the long wooden bridge that connected the islands. Moonlight shined off of your pajamas in the cool tropical night breeze, giving a small relief from the usual humidity, and if you weren’t sure this were a dream, you would’ve felt like an idiot, opening yourself up to being an easy target for a killing.

You wrapped your arms around your waist nervously. In the end, you were too curious not to try it out, but you had to admit, you were still mulling it over in your brain:

Their ideal… a shared fantasy… So they wouldn’t really see you as you are per se…  but what did that mean? Did that mean that if they liked submissive cute pretty boys, that’s how you appeared to them? If they wanted a buff aggressive woman, you’d suddenly grow muscles? Would it all be an illusion? Maybe just your personality would change… 

Play along, Monokuma had said…

Passing the hospital and music venue, you approached the motel and immediately noticed the change. The retro sign out front was now decked out in pink and red neon lettering boasting the words Love Motel. The building itself, once dingy, dirty and forgettable, now had spotlights and strobes out front and the yellow, beige and brown chipped paint had transformed into a Valentine’s-type aesthetic. Pinks, reds, whites, the typical colors of the heart and romance surrounded you and gave the motel a whole new vibe. The line of ground-level rooms were still present, and though you assumed your key only lead to one of them, you’d have no trouble figuring out which. One door in particular, smack dab in the middle seemed to be pulsing with life. The paint seemed to be a shade darker on this door, and pink smoke spilled out from underneath the crack. It was like it was luring you in, tempting you to enter. It was as if pheromones leaked from its crevices. You placed a shaky hand on the door knob, entered the key with the other, and gave it a twist. It opened with a hiss, like pressure releasing. You stepped inside, the door closing on its own behind you.

The room around you was mesmirizing, unlike anything you’d seen on Jabberwock Island before. Scattered around were velvety plush love seats and cushions in crimson reds and deep pinks. The carpet was luxurious and pink lava lamps stood nearly five feet tall in the corners of the room. Soft lighting set a dreamy mood. The floor underneath the carpet was checkered tile like a chessboard. Above you dangled a large, expensive-looking crystal chandelier with heart-shaped accents. In the middle of the room was a round, almost comically large bed with a thick red duvet and a mountain of pillows. Your eyes bounced around the room, taking it all in with wonder, until they settled on the area just beside the bed.

“No way…” You gasp lightly, hands coming up to cover your mouth.

“Hello there, (Y/N),” Nagito smiled back at you: genuine, warm, welcoming. His eyes creased into little lines with the expression. Dressed in his usual attire, he raised a hand to wave gently.

It was like every step of this journey, every new discovery proved over and over to you that this was in fact, a dream. You had to be asleep for Nagito to be here. Nagito… Out of all of your classmates, fate chose your crush to place upon you. It felt like an ambush, like a trap.

Your feelings for Nagito had blossomed almost immediately upon meeting him. There was physical attraction at first sight. He was tall, thin, with a pronounced Adam’s Apple and veiny arms. His pale skin was vampiric almost, translucent in the bright sun, especially when he went swimming with little on but his trunks. His hair was wispy like cotton candy, soft and full. You imagined running your hands through it often. You were lured in by his kind and helpful personality. After the first class trial, when you all learned of his true disposition, you fought to keep your feelings under wraps. He was dangerous, volatile, unstable, and a whole lot of other negative adjectives, so you held it all in.

Still, you couldn’t deny your attraction to the mystery that came along with him. He was obviously extremely intelligent, often moving behind the scenes and one step ahead of everyone else. His mind and the way it worked, just the way he talked was alluring to you. It often felt like he was flirting with you when you were around him. You just assumed he was just trying to butter you up to use you, trying to get closer to further his goals of “hope.”

You tried to be around him as little as possible, though… or that’s what you wanted your peers to perceive. You tried to only hang out with him when you had an excuse: looking for clues and evidence, during investigations, interrogating him, trying to get closer to him under the guise of wanting to control his crazy so he wouldn’t hurt your friends. In reality, you enjoyed every moment spent with him. He could be scary at times though for sure, getting all wild and frantic when speaking of the future and his plans for hope, or even knowing he was plotting when he was quiet. Which is why it was so odd that he was almost… shy at the moment?

“(Y/N)...?” He cleared his throat, gaining your attention once again. Shaken out of your trance, you made eye contact with him, feeling instantly a bit shy yourself.

“Yes, Nagito?” You speak softly, never moving an inch. This felt surreal.

“I knew it would be you…” He smiled just barely and took a step forward, a gleam in his eye.

“Nagito… do you know what’s going on here?” You inquired, and he nodded enthusiastically. Always a step ahead.

“When I learned of this place, I just knew it would be you that showed… after all, you’re the ultimate shining hope that eclipses all others! It could only be you!” His arms were outstretched as if to embrace you, or welcoming you to embrace him, but yet he didn’t step any closer.

Ah, yes, his ideal… you think to yourself. He was obviously very mentally ill, you’d gathered, obsessed with the idea of hope even if there had to be an event of despair that preceded in order to propel forward such hope. Sometimes it was vague, to you at least, what hope meant to him. He seemed to know very well what he meant, though nobody else did. Not one hundred percent of the time, anyway.

“So, where should I begin? Tell me how best to serve you! Let me please you!” He took a large stride forward, grasping your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips in a gentlemanly gesture. Like some victorian nobleman greeting a lady, he kissed the back of your knuckles as if he revered and respected you highly. Taken aback by the sudden action, you jerked your hand away.

You felt hesitant… Weren’t you supposed to be his ideal? Why is he all up on you, then, asking to serve and please you?

“Please, allow me to be your stepping stone. Use me, let me be your tool for hope! I know I’m less than nothing, but if I can help you even a microscopic amount, I can die happy!” He fell to his knees, wrapping around your legs like a child latching onto their mother. He looked quite pathetic, actually. He ran a cold, pale hand up and under the pant leg of your pajamas and you shivered. Your heart rate began to pick up at the skin to skin contact. “Whip me if it pleases you, if it feels better and relieves your stress. Hit me! Take out your build-up from the day on me, so you can continue to work hard for the cause of hope!” 

This is wrong… You shook him off gently, backing away until your back hit the door. He stood, a displeased look across his face.

“Nagito…”

“Am I fucking it up? I can do better, please. I’ll do anything for you!” He began to shuck off his outer layer of clothing, his green coat. You found your eyes instantly glued to the veiny expanse of his ghostly white arms, the callous of his knuckles, the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed when he swallowed nervously and-

No… this is wrong! You repeatedly to yourself mentally. Reluctance, sweat running down the back of your neck, this awkward knot in your stomach. You felt confused. This had to be wrong. He probably didn’t really feel this way. Not about you, anyway. Monokuma influenced this for sure… obviously. How could he see you as an ideal? There was no way… you had to get out of here… back to your room and…

But then again… this was a dream. Your mind wandered. This was some kind of freakish lucid dream that you could be aware of and be in control of. Who could fault you for enjoying a dream? When would you ever get an opportunity like this - with your crush of all people - ever again? Maybe you should just… let go… enjoy the night.

Nagito, now devoid of his coat, crossed his arms at his pelvis, taking up the bottom hem of his white t-shirt and began to lift it with the intent to remove it altogether, exposing his belly button and the veins that ran down his lower abdomen. He looked to you for approval. He couldn’t help but notice that even with his eagerness to please, you had a twisted expression on your face. It was uncertain, puzzled, maybe upset with his efforts? You certainly weren’t paying attention to him, that was for sure. He let go of the shirt, and it fell back into place.

“Am I still disappointing you?” His words brought you back to the present, and you looked him up and down once again, stepping a bit forward and back fully into the suffocating ambience of the suite. You were tempted, so very tempted by the mere sight of him. Monokuma had said this was a building of lust and romance. “It is to be expected. I am a total filthy useless loser, and you are the epitome of goodness and cleanliness in this world.” He spoke matter-of-factly, now approaching you again, circling you like a hawk with it’s prey. “Hmmm… well maybe, you aren’t as clean as you’d like people to think?” Suddenly, more forceful than you’d ever seen him, you found yourself pushed back, up against the wall, and he held you there, pinned by his own body weight. 

“N-Nagito!” You sputtered, more shocked by the position he now had you in than than anything else so far on this very strange night. But wasn’t he all submissive just a second ago? This is what you meant by volatile, unstable… 

“Ah well, that’s fine with me, as long as you’re the ray of hope the world needs you to be outside of the bedroom…” His thin fingers trailed up your forearms until they met your hands. Interlocking your fingers with his own, he forced them up and beside your head, locking you into place against the red wall. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very small. His eyes seemed dreamy, lazily glazed over and sultry. A crooked smirk formed upon seeing your flustered reaction. “I have no issue changing strategies…” He leaned forward, whispering suggestively into the shell of your ear. He could feel you tremble at that, content to let him take over. “Your reactions are quite telling.” His grip slipped down from your fingers to your wrists. There was a shit-eating grin, a condescending tone behind his seemingly effortless bravado.

What you were starting to realize was that Nagito could be whoever he needed to be at any given moment in order to meet his goals. In an instant, he could change and adapt. His personality shifted just like that. You questioned how the groveling servant-like act from before could flip into this dominant, aggressively contrasting performance, but that was just it. Nagito’s fantasy was to be the stepping stone that would support and propel the greatest hope the world had ever seen to glory, to have that beacon of hope see him as useful and genuinely feel like he means the world to them. He did this by enabling them to do their best, whatever the cost, therefore, their fantasy was his fantasy. Being what they needed and wanted, that was all he wanted. Their pleasure was his pleasure, like an endlessly looping cycle. You didn’t seem to respond well to the sniveling slave character, so now, he would show you that you could be made to submit to him, that he could be your ideal and force you to relinquish control. If that’s what you wanted, he would fill that role.

His grip on your wrists tightened, a bit painfully. You sucked in air through your teeth at the pressure. He was so lanky and thin, you’d never guess he was this strong. You probably couldn’t shake him off unless you used your full strength and and the boost of an adrenaline rush. Your eyelids fluttered closed, finally accepting the blissful feeling this dream could provide.

“I can tell you like this… You’re trying to hold back all reactions and sounds, but you should just let go… I know already… I know~” He teased, leaning in until his forehead touched yours. The closeness, the invasion of your personal space excited him. He truly didn’t have many opportunities for physical touch in his life. Knowing it was with his ideal match, this experience, all of it set his heart ablaze in his chest. “Who would’ve thought? Heh, wait until the others hear you’re not so innocent…” You knew Nagito as one who never missed a beat, that’s why he was so useful in class trials and during investiagations. So of course he noticed when your bottom lip quivered and the tiniest, quietest moan escaped the depths of your throat. He exhaled amusedly, a puff of satisfaction through his nostrils. A checkmate of sorts. “Oh? You seem to like even the threat of me telling…” He was smug, so very smug.

“N-No, that’s not true…” You breathed out an overstimulated, constrained response.

“You want me to be meaner to you?” It was posed as a question, but he wasn’t asking for permission. Without waiting for a response, he firmly pressed his mouth to yours, lips enveloping your own. Your head tilted to meet his, melding perfectly into each other. Your hands itched, begging to be allowed move, to run your fingers through his hair, but he wouldn’t release his grip on your wrists. He loved to feel you struggle against him. Pulling back from the kiss, he allowed you a moment of air. “Okay, okay… I’ll extend this one little kindness…” he whispered, throaty and intoxicating. He let go of your left wrist, using that hand instead to move to the front of your pajama shirt. He popped upon the first button with a single graceful movement. With your newly freed hand, you savored your first little taste of the cloud-like texture at your fingers. You were in heaven. His hair was just as fluffy and soft as you’d always imagined.

As his fingers descended down and down, removing the obstacles of every button in his way, you looked over his shoulder at the expansive, lavish bed behind him. It seemed a very long night was ahead of you.

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 📹 Ch. 09: "ping pong"

You feel a tap on your shoulder just as you claimed your change from the student who was running the stand you were buying from just now. You turn your back to see Kuni awkwardly standing behind you, stiffly waving — you look behind him and see who you assumed to be his friends. One was face palming, one was trying to stifle a giggle, another was calmly observing and the last was probably cheering behind Kunikuzushi.

"Kuni! I didn't know you went to stuff like this?" You greet with a smile, holding your snack and phone in one hand while the other rested on your hip.

He scratches his purple locks, "Yeah, I was kinda dragged here but I guess it's a nice change. Oh yeah— um, my friends were wondering if you wanted to join us explore the fair. I believe the twins are running a few things as committee members and Xinyan is kind of busy."

His words would've been drowned out by the crowd's chatter if you weren't standing so close to him. "Woah, you actually know my friends' schedules by heart." You joke, patting his shoulder as if to tell him good job.

"Actually, yeah. It's kinda boring not hanging out with anyone," you pout slightly. "Are you sure you don't mind me coming along? I don't wanna intrude on anything."

Kuni's face shifts and shakes his head no, chuckling awkwardly. "It's fine. After all, they were the ones who quite forcefully asked me to invite you. Those losers behind me? Yeah. That's them."

You peer behind him once more to see 4 people conversing (you think, maybe they were trying to act natural which you laugh at their attempts).

"Auhm... sure! I just have to leave you guys for a bit before 8pm since I have to assist something for the concert." You say, walking to their table.

Everyone exchanges greetings and introductions, Ajax and Venti send a few weird smug looks between you and Kuni but you assume it's just in their personalities. You swoon for sometime over meeting Venti in person, you've heard of him a few times in the industry and frankly, his songs were addicting. You spend the rest of the day playing the game booths with them. At some point, you receive Kunikuzushi's prize from the ping pong cup game ran by Hu Tao and Yanfei from the Humanities department — it was a medium-sized penguin plush that seized your heart the moment you laid your eyes on it.

When 7:50 pm strikes, you say your rushed goodbyes to the group and make your way to the backstage of the venue. It was time to do your role for the fair's concert. Your excuse from earlier was a cover for your actual job for tonight:

...which was to perform in front of the university for the first time ever as a performing artist.

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (open, reply or send an ask to be added) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!