#i have definitely laughed much more than this but the others require ~ context ~

[bardicbird]

some disco elysium moments in my first playthrough that have made me laugh out loud (so far)

[misc-obeyme]

Couples Discount! - Secret Scene

Well, I shouldn't be surprised I guess. My "should I post the smut?" poll had some pretty definitive results. It's not yet over, but really I don't think I need to wait for it. Y'all voted for the smut.

I would like to begin by apologizing for my smut writing skills. I'm not at all confident in them, which is why this is the first time I'm really posting any.

So this is the secret smut scene that would come after the end of this daily chat scene I wrote, though you don't really need to read it before this. This right here is pure smut, so you know. Context isn't really required.

Please tell me if it's terrible. My anxiety is high so I need to know if it's really bad lol. Also I really tried to keep MC gender neutral so hopefully that turned out okay.

GN!MC x Diavolo - NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex (reader receiving in both cases), please let me know if I should add anything here

Any thoughts you'd been having about the repercussions of the kiss you shared with Diavolo on the plaza bench were completely discarded now. You sat on the edge of Diavolo's bed with the demon prince on his knees between your thighs and thinking wasn't something you'd managed to do at all for the past several minutes.

One of your hands was in Diavolo's hair, the other one gripping the sheets beside you as you melted into the feeling of his tongue, his lips, his mouth giving you untold amounts of pleasure. He had placed one of your legs on his shoulder and his hand still rested on it. You could tell from the way his fingers flexed against you that he was trying not to grip you too hard.

You hadn't been sure what spending the night with Diavolo would be like, but so far he seemed to want nothing more than to worship you. He especially seemed to enjoy hearing you moan, deliberately doing things that he thought might draw one out of you.

You were slightly annoyed about the fact that he himself was still fully dressed while your clothes were already in a heap on the floor. However, you couldn't hold onto this thought for long enough to call him out on it. Not when he was using his tongue so expertly, the tension building up in your body as your pleasure intensified with every second.

It was almost teasing, though, never quite enough to bring you over the edge. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair in both frustration and enjoyment.

"D-diavolo," you managed to say. "Please."

That single word apparently had quite the effect because Diavolo responded immediately. Where before he was only using his tongue, now he put his entire mouth on you. There was so much more sensation that you cried out, the hand in his hair becoming a fist. You had a vague thought about how you hoped you weren't hurting him, but it was gone in an instant as Diavolo sucked.

You moaned, unable to keep yourself from doing so, the feeling building and building. Diavolo didn't let up. He could tell you were close and he was determined to make you come. You felt your thighs shivering, squeezing slightly as the intensity increased.

Your body began to tense as you felt yourself nearing your climax until it finally hit you in waves. You couldn't even manage to spare a thought for what might be happening to Diavolo as your thighs clenched, your fingers still holding tightly to his hair.

You took several deep breaths as you let yourself relax. You let go of Diavolo's hair. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a smile so bright you couldn't help but laugh a little.

You cupped his cheek as you caught your breath, bending forward a little to lean your forehead against his. "You have way too much clothing on," you said, pulling at one of the buttons on his shirt with the other hand.

Diavolo chuckled. "I'm sorry, MC," he said. "Won't you help me remedy that?"

He didn't have to ask you twice. You started using both hands to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You let your hands linger on his bare chest, truly a glorious sight to behold, before reaching down for the pants. But in the position he was in, you couldn't quite reach them.

Diavolo kissed you before standing up to take his pants off himself. You watched as he did, finally freeing his enormous cock. Just looking at it made your skin flush and your body throb as your mind went wild with the possibilities.

It was very tempting to take it into your mouth, since it was right at the same height as your face. But you were more interested in putting it somewhere else.

Despite this, you couldn't resist reaching out and taking it in your hand. Diavolo made a soft humming sound at the contact and you looked up to see him biting his lip.

It was such a cute expression on him that it made your stomach flip. You found yourself suddenly impatient, letting go so you could grab his hands and pull him onto the bed.

Diavolo let you take control, moving easily as you positioned him so he was sitting up against his pillows. Once he was where you wanted him, you straddled his lap, putting your hands on his chest and kissing him deeply.

His mouth opened for you instantly, your tongue sliding in and tasting the salt of your cum on him. You tried not to let this make you rabid. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands running through his hair again, your ass rubbing against the hardness of his cock.

You pulled away and looked at him. He was breathing hard with his pupils fully dilated. He looked like he was dizzy with lust, but there was an edge of concern on his face. He reached over to the bedside table, taking out a bottle of lube.

Certainly Diavolo was quite large, so you thought it best not to skip this step, even though the look on his face sent another stab of heat through your body. He slathered his fingers and you gasped as he put first one and then another inside you, stretching you gently.

Diavolo took his time and you were losing your mind with need by the time he pulled his fingers out of you. You put your hands on his shoulders and rose up, preparing to take him inside.

"MC," he said, voice quiet as he settled his hands on your hips.

You didn't let him finish whatever he was going to say, instead sinking down onto his cock. This elicited a moan that was like sweet music to your ears and he practically whimpered your name.

You decided to go slowly, moving down inch by inch until you had him fully inside you.

The feeling of him was exquisite. Your body flushed with heat as you squeezed yourself around him and he moaned. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips tighter.

Diavolo nuzzled into your neck, peppering you with kisses. "Are you all right?" he murmured into your skin.

"Don't worry," you said. "I'm fine." You tangled your fingers in his hair again, holding him to you as you began to move yourself slowly up and down his cock.

Diavolo's head rested on your shoulder and for a moment he seemed too overwhelmed by the sensation to do much of anything. But then his hands began to move you, too, increasing your pace. You matched him easily, speeding things up, but sitting down fully every time, allowing him to hit that spot inside you perfectly over and over.

Diavolo seemed to be unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you, but you didn't mind at all, moaning in response to the feeling of it. Diavolo's hands moved from your waist to your back, his head falling a little to press against your chest. Both of you were moaning now and you could already feel the tension of your second orgasm tightening in your belly.

It felt so good, you were completely lost in him, your hands roaming over his skin, the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and sex. The feeling of him inside you, thick and powerful, the way his hands moved you so easily, the desperate sounds of him mumbling your name over and over again.

Until at last, you felt yourself tightening, your body responding to the pleasure. You cried out his name as you came, your hands on his shoulders, your nails piercing skin, your head thrown back.

As you were just beginning to come down from this high, you felt him clutch you hard, a soft groan from his throat, and the warmth of his cum spilling inside you.

Exhausted, you collapsed against him. Diavolo's arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as you rested your head on his chest.

This was only the beginning of your infamous night with Lord Diavolo and you would be pleased to discover just how much stamina the prince of the Devildom really had.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[selfindulgentpixies]

Frenzied

Satoru Gojo x Gn!reader (afab)

MDNI And here it is! This has been in a my drafts for a bit. I love feral Gojo but I'm just so slow at smut. I hope it turned out well though and that you all enjoy it. Cw:GN!reader,Afab!reader,only they them pronouns used for reader, Gojo isn't the best at communication, might be a little dub conish but reader is enthusiastic, unprotected sex, slightly dom Gojo, ijichi gets the short end of the stick i'm so sorry Ijichi you put up with so much. Oh and Gojo is very bitey. I like his teeth okay?

He was never supposed to notice. He was supposed to be too focused when he got like this during a mission. Eyes wild with the adrenaline and blood lust, that’s what it was after all, you couldn’t call it anything else. Rarely were you put on missions with him unless your technique was specifically needed, you were more of a utility sort of sorcerer and while yes, technically you were a first grade, combat wasn’t where you excelled. So for dangerous missions where your cursed technique was required you were often put with Gojo. Which was fine! You enjoyed his company honestly. You thought he was funny and he’d seemed absolutely gleeful when he realized you found his antics entertaining.

It’s how you started ending up on more missions with him you’re pretty sure. Because if the strongest wanted something he’d get it. And you’re almost certain he decided at some point he wanted your company because you’re suddenly being put on missions with him where you don’t actually have to be there.

This increased frequency in you accompanying him though is how you begin to witness the frenzy he goes into during battle. The first time it happens you get a little thrill of fear as well as… well you don’t know how to place the feeling exactly. Not in this context anyway, not immediately because you don’t want to admit it to yourself. But after a second and third time you can’t deny what it is, the frenzy he goes into, his show of power, you’re turned on by it. What does that say about you that him laughing sadistically, each titter of sound bleeding out a bit more of his sanity, makes desire spark in your veins. What does it say that when he easily tears opponents apart but still draws it out that you press your thighs together as you feel that familiar coil of heat forming.

He was never supposed to notice though. 

Of course he notices.

It happens on a mission where in your mind you were glad that you were needed at least. It was getting hard to get other work done with how often you’d been getting sent on missions with him lately. Which you knew from rumors other people were starting to take notice of the frequency with which you were going on missions with the strongest who normally preferred to work alone. At this rate you were going to need to have a talk with him. 

But you had more pressing issues right now.

Gojo releases a long breath as he tosses the head of a curse he’d just torn to pieces like it was nothing, passing fingers through his hair, pushing it from his face for but a moment before it flops back over his forehead. His eyes shift to you then and you realize that the frenzy is still there as he turns to walk toward you. It feels different than every other time before that he’s gone to meet back up with you at the end of one of these missions. The air about him hasn’t calmed at all like it normally does as he approaches you. 

A shiver runs through you and you smile a bit nervously. “Guess that about wraps up the mission then. We just need to go get the.. artifact.. from the shrine…” Your voice trails off as he gets further and further into your personal space, backing you against the stone wall surrounding the shrine in question. “U-uh, Gojo, you’re getting awful clo-” You choke a little when the man in question is suddenly fully in your space, nearly pressing you against the wall with his forearms resting against the wall on either side of your head. Oh oh the frenzy is definitely still in his eyes. “Gojo?” 

He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath, seeming to try and rein himself in. Then those electric blue eyes are focused on you again and he lowers his face closer to you. You’re so close in fact that his warm breath fans over your face. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You stutter, feeling heat rush to your face and well… “L-like what? What are you talking about?” Play dumb, play dumb because there’s no way he’d picked up on how you react to him fighting, right? You’re just coworkers, perhaps friends even. 

“Don’t be coy, you don't think you can trick these eyes do you? I see how you watch me fight, the way your pupils dilate, the rush of blood in your veins-” He smirks seeing how you seem to get more and more flustered as he speaks. “You don’t need me to continue, do you?” 

You shake your head in a jerky movement. 

“Good,” he husks. “Now I’m going to give you a chance to say ‘no’ if you want me to stop. Because if I start I don’t think I’ll stop.” A shiver runs through you at his words.

You think you must look pretty silly right now, with how wide your eyes must be as you stare up at him. A deer caught in headlights. It occurs to you as his words sink in that he hasn’t actually touched you at all yet. Caged you against a wall sure but he seems to have very deliberately kept himself from actually touching you. 

You give a jerky lil nod and he tuts at you. 

“No, I need you to say very clearly what you want. Whatever it is, I'll respect it but you need to say it clearly.” You could swear you see the muscles in his neck strain and his fists against the wall next to your head ball up tightly. 

You stare into his wild eyes, thinking of all the times you’d watched him lose himself to the thrill of battle. Watching the power he displays and wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a different kind of frenzy from him. “Okay.” You swallow thickly. He looks like he’s about to say something but you continue knowing that wasn’t enough. “I want this- I want you,” your voice shakes ever so slightly, but you still hold his intense gaze. 

He grins and it’s all teeth. “You have no idea how much i’ve wanted to hear you say that.” and like his grin his kiss is all teeth too as he presses you against the wall.  Nipping at your lips until you part them for him with a gasp. You feel the fabric of your shirt pull taut before it gives, the buttons flying off to be lost on the forest floor. With the way he devours your mouth you can’t find a moment to protest, though you let out a yelp that he swallows when suddenly he lifts you by your hips and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist. In this position sandwiched firmly between him and the wall you can now feel his bulge grinding against your backside. You whine into the kiss, your arms going around his broad shoulders and one of your hands scratching through his undercut. It elicits a shiver and groan from him and he parts his mouth from yours finally, a string of saliva shining in the moonlight connecting the two of you as you gasp for breath. 

He surprises you by nipping at the fat or your cheek before licking over it and moving to repeat the motion more harshly against your neck. The mark was definitely going to be visible later. “Ah- Gojo wait” you yelp when he delivers a particularly harsh bite along with bucking his hips against you before he speaks.

“Satoru.” 

“E-eh?”

“Call me Satoru,” he says while kissing up your neck, the sudden gentleness a contrast to seconds before. At the same time as he kisses up your neck one of his hands smoothes over the softness of your belly and up to your chest where he gropes at you. “Fuck you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you.” It’s a statement not a question as he catches your kiss swollen lips in another kiss. 

You realize then that you no longer feel the cool stone of the wall pressed against your back but you’re still suspended in air without the burden being placed on your thighs wrapped around Gojo’s slim waist. He’s holding you up with his technique. Something about that makes you throb, clenching around nothing. He chuckles into the kiss and you feel his arm brush against your thigh and realize he’s reached below you followed by the sound of his belt coming undone and then the shifting about of fabric. “Now what should I do about yours? I could just rip them off.” You shiver and he grins into the kiss. 

“Go-.. Satoru w-we still have to get the artifact after and I am not stumbling back to have Ijichi drive us home with my clothes in tatters,” You protest your voice unsteady when  suddenly for different reasons than the rest of the night your stomach swoops. You blink up at Gojo dazedly as you suddenly find yourself laying amongst soft blankets. He’s untangling your legs from his waist so he can step back and pull off your shoes. Once your shoes are discarded he kisses your ankle before letting your foot drop the comforter. 

“No need for you to stumble back anywhere now,” He says smoothly as he steps back from the bed, kicking off his shoes and beginning to discard his clothes without care. You swallow thickly as you prop yourself up on your elbows, unable to tear your eyes away from him. In the dim light of the room, illuminated by the moon and city lights outside the window he practically glows. Each divested piece of clothing revealing plains of hard muscle that had previously been hidden by his loose uniform. All thoughts of your mission have seemingly been wiped from your mind as your eyes slide over him, down to the line of his hips just as he pulls down his slacks and underwear in a smooth motion, his pretty cock springing free. You finally tear your eyes away, your shyness suddenly heating your blood almost a much as your arousal. 

“Ah ah, come on eyes on me.” The bed dips and you feel him run his hands up your clothed legs. He stops and waits for you to look at him once he reaches your waistband and once your gaze meets his he rips off your pants, shreds them like tissue paper as the feral look seems to flare back to life in his eyes. You only manage a squeak as form of protest before he drags you by the hips up toward him. He sits up on his knees leaving you curved with only your shoulders and head still on the bed as he presses his face to the wetness soaking your underwear. When you feel him take a deep breath followed by a groan rumbling out of his chest you cover your face, overwhelmed with how debauched this all is. It finally sinks in that whatever he decides to do you’re along for the ride now.

He bites your thigh, making you jolt. “I said eyes on me,” his voice comes out in a low growl spoken against your skin.  When you uncover your face you're met with his wild gaze. It makes arousal pool in your belly even as it makes your hair stand on end. Seemingly satisfied he moves back to your clothed cunt. Without you meaning to a whimper passes your lips when he takes the fabric between his teeth and he rips it. The fabric dangles from your hips as he leans in to immediately lick up your slit, collecting the slick there before pulling your clit into his mouth. He sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves, his nose pressed into the hair above it all while you twitch and jerk in his steel hold. “S-satoruuu,” you moan out his name brokenly. You can’t do more than jerk and twitch in his grip since he’s left you with absolutely no leverage with only your shoulders barely resting on the bed. Your hands uselessly scrabble at the comfortner beneath you and you twist the fabric between your fingers as he devours your sweet cunt, his own moans rumbling into your most sensitive flesh. 

He pulls his mouth off of you just as you near your peak drawing a broken whine out of you. “ ‘m so close, Satoru, please-” You watch though as he keeps your folds parted with his fingers and then  gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drool over your entrance. Then he lowers your lower half to the bed so he can slot himself between your thighs. He runs his cock through your folds, wetting it with a mix of your slick and his own saliva before he lets it rest heavy between your folds just seeming to admire the view. You can feel your pulse throb in your cunt, your walls clenching around nothing as his wild eyes take in the most intimate parts of you both. He rocks his hips against you teasingly before he finally, finally begins to push into you, drawing moans from both of you. The stretch something you’ve been craving and you urge him forward by pulling on him with the heel of your foot at his lower back. 

“Just can’t wait for me can you?” He smirks teeth bared slightly when he suddenly fully sheaths himself in you, eliciting a cry from your pretty lips. And oh how pretty they are, all kiss bitten and swollen from him already, they’re so pretty in fact he has to lean down, covering you with his larger frame with his arms bracketed on either side of you so he can capture your lips in a kiss that felt as if he was starved for you.  His cock drags through your walls, languid at first before he sets a merciless pace. Your arms find their way around his neck, holding tight to him like a lifeline as he rocks the two of you back and forth. Your fingers scratch through his undercut and he breaks the kiss, the two of you panting and moaning into eachothers mouths. His wild gaze holding your own until suddenly you’re arching your back up toward him, pressing your chests together as cry out as your orgasm crashes through you. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through it as you clench and spasm, creaming around his cock. 

You begin to scratch at his shoulders. “Satoruuu please i-it’s too much I-” you gasp. 

“Not yet,” he says while nipping at your ear. “I haven’t had enough of you yet.” And indeed he hasn’t come yet. He was so close though as he suddenly wraps his arms around you before dragging you up with him as he changes to a sitting position so he can quite literally bounce you on his cock. The movements eliciting little cries and gasps from you as he sets to further marking up your neck. Soon though he’s simply panting against the column or your throat with the threat of his teeth pressed against your pulse as you feel him spill into you. He presses you down against him, seemingly trying to bury himself as deeply into you as he possibly can.

 He eases the pair of you down to your sides then, his softening cock still nestled inside of you. Some of the frenzy has calmed now and intimately, more tenderly than you would have expected he kisses over your face, lips gentle as they move over your features before resting his forehead against your own. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” There’s a clarity in his eyes suddenly.

The questions and concern in his voice startles you a little and with your arm not trapped between his neck and pillow you bring your hand to caress his cheek. “No you didn’t hurt me, Satoru,” you say with a euphoric giggle bubbling in your chest.

It’s his turn to look surprised, your laugh seeming to make him shy. Which how novel, The Gojo Satoru looking shy, and after he’d just fucked you within an inch of your life no less. You dart forward the short distance and kiss the tip of his slightly upturned nose. 

The two of you relax into momentary easy silence when suddenly it occurs to you. “Ah! The mission! We were in the middle of a mission and we just left Ijichi-”

Gojo holds you in place as he eases himself up and slips from you, making you wince as you feel his cum begin to slide out of you. You watch as he seems to very unbotheredly crawl to the end of the bed, all while giving you a very nice view of his backside, before he stretches out and you hear the shuffle of fabric before his face is lit up by the light of his phone. He stays like that half hanging off the bed as he taps away with his thumb. You’re admittedly very tempted to smack his butt but refrain for the moment. “Okay, I told him to go home and that I was just going to warp us back because you were so tired from the mission.” You make a small sound of protest to which he glances back at you with a smirk. “Oh would you rather I be honest?” 

You gasp. “Of course not!”  

His phone pings, he glances at it and then crawls back up the bed to place the phone on his bedside table. 

“And the artifact.” 

“What artifact?” Then his eyes widen when he realizes his slip. 

“What do you mean what artifact? You know the whole reason I was needed for the mission.” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. 

“Okay what if hypothetically there wasn’t an artifact… and I just wanted to spend time with you?”

You blink at him unimpressed before grabbing a pillow and smacking him over the head. “Just ask me out on a date like a normal person next time!” 

He catches the pillow and lifts it to peek at you. “So I still get a next time?” He’s grinning at you boyishly. 

Your cheeks heat up somewhat and then you clear your throat. “Yes but only if you replace my clothes though.” You motion toward yourself and the tattered bits of clothes that still clung to you. Honestly you looked a bit like a wild animal had mauled you between the destroyed clothes and the bites littering your body. 

He laughs and the sound makes your chest swell. “Deal. I’ll buy you whatever you’d like.” He suddenly moves into your space, leaning his head down so he can tuck his face into your neck.

You spend the night with him then, he helps you get cleaned up and dresses you in one of his shirts before the two of you curl back up in his bed. He falls asleep with his head on your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair. The calm state he’s been lulled into by you a stark contrast to the frenzy that had set the night in motion.

____

Whew! Smut is so nerve wracking for me to write but you don't get good at anything by not doing it. I hope this reads well you all enjoy it. 💕 Comments and interaction are always appreciated.

@strawberrystepmom @missmugiwara @4sat0ruu @icy-spicy @hauntedhearthowl @biscuitsngravie @pastelle-rabbit @missphanosaur18 @crysugu @whispers-of-lilith @nanamikentoseyebags @margumis @demonwoman (thought i'd add you on since you asked for recs tonight so i hope that's okay)

[shadow-prime]

Seeing Ratchet in a domestic setting was cute at best, but something about him in his holoform sitting on her couch with a cup of coffee was just extremely sexy. The grouch rarely used his holoform out in the field unlike many of the others who used them more regularly but when he did, it was usually with her. She was no spring chicken, but hell Ratchet made her feel like she wasn't as old as she felt. For a human in her mid 40s, she was envious of Ratchet's seemingly endless supply of energy. She did have to take into consideration that the mech was considerably older to even the bots but he at least could still kick ass when he needed to. These realizations were painful that eventually her life will expire while he will live on for possibly several million years if he took the time to take care of himself. "Do my eyes deceive me? Doc Bot is actually taking time for himself?"

His eyes narrowed a bit at the nickname she called him by, granted she was the only one who could get by calling him that without having something thrown at her. But oh! did that look send a small shiver down her spine. Shutting her door y/n started taking off her coat hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. "Y/n… I'm not in the mood for any of your shenanigans," He grumbled, sticking his nose further into the newspaper he was reading. "I've had enough of it from Wheeljack today."

Sighing softly Y/n set her bag on the dining table, the satchel making a soft thud with its weight hitting the wood. Her laptop was sturdy enough to withstand the abuse. "What did he do now?" It was better for him to talk it out, for someone who has had a millennia of time to work on his people skills he sure did suck at not letting others get to him. Especially when Wheeljack purposefully did it to antagonize Ratchet. Jackie was a good bot but he just didn't know when to take a hint when it came to people's feelings.

"What doesn't he do?" Ratchet rolled his very blue human-like eyes. Somehow she never could get used to how vividly blue they were for how tired and beaten down he was. She could tell how much this one affected him, and she would have to have another talk with Wheeljack. It would definitely be better then Ratchet giving him another dent that required the mech to sit with an already angry Ratchet to ruthlessly buff it out. Y/n grabbed Ratchet's cup of coffee and took a drink from it

"What does it mean about how an old dog can't learn new tricks?"Coffee immediately flew everywhere as y/n choked on it laughing. Strike one for Wheeljack learning Earth Lingo. Ratchet the ever concerned boyfriend patted her back some before he left to grab a few towels to wipe up the mess. After trying not to die, and easing Ratchet's concern, she finally pulled herself together.

"It means a lot of things actually, just depends on the context," She said, taking one of the rags to wipe herself down. "The most common one is used in a derogatory way saying that older men and women are so set in their ways that they can't learn to adapt. It's like a double edge sword really." Yeah Wheeljack will definitely be getting a serious talk from her. The dark look that crossed Ratchet's face had her grabbing his hands, a small smirk on her lips "I wasn't laughing at you first of all, it just surprises me what new shit he picks up every day. But I know you better than him and whatever the meaning he meant behind it, is not true. I think you're very adaptive." The hint was easily caught and Ratchet face softened some to an almost cocky assurance. She had him now and stroked his ego to get his thoughts away from Wheeljack and had never let her down. Gripping his chin she pulled Ratchet a bit closer to her before pecking a kiss to his lips "He's just jealous that this Old Dog probably knows more tricks than he does," Ratchet harrumphed against her lips, a hand rested against her neck to hold her there just a bit longer.

When they pulled away Ratchet had the smugest look on his face "This Old Dog just might have to show you those tricks."

"I think that can be arranged, I'm always up for learning."

[burnsopale]

At the inn (scene, 1500 words)

Fandom: The Scarlet Pimpernel Pairing: Percy/Chauvelin Rating: T for There was only one bed

Summary: The author projects her need to be cuddled onto two middle-aged men. Again.

Context: It's 1802, and Percy reunites with Chauvelin in Paris after having lost track of him for eight years. Chauvelin is not the man he used to be; the events in Orange left him little more than a ghost, and his life since then has been grey and empty. Percy means to awaken him again.

And then Sir Percy took his hand, as if Chauvelin was a lady he was about to lead onto the dance floor, and Sir Percy did lead him, but away, towards the stairs and the rooms above. Chauvelin followed docilely, too tired to assert himself, though his stomach was in a knot and his head felt hot and stuffed with cotton. Sir Percy was walking backwards, holding his eyes, and Chauvelin could not look away. Those heavy blue eyes could have pulled him along on their own.

He was almost surprised to find himself in one of the rooms, unable to recall walking through the door. He was definitely surprised when Sir Percy began to help him off with his jacket like some sort of valet.

“I can manage!” he protested. “I am not so tired as that.”

“Of course, Monsieur,” said Sir Percy, hanging the jacket on the room’s only chair before reaching for the buttons on Chauvelin’s waistcoat and beginning to undo them.

Chauvelin blinked at the industrious hands in confusion, and that allowed Sir Percy to get his waistcoat all the way off, and then he was working on Chauvelin’s cravat, his fingers strong and nimble on the knot and brushing Chauvelin’s chin sometimes, and as the cloth came undone, Chauvelin found his voice again.

“E-Enough!” He kept his voice low despite the emphasis. “Thank you for your aid, but that will do. Attend to your own wardrobe.” He turned away and, leaning on the bedpost, bent down to take off a shoe. Then he realised something and straightened up again suddenly. “Unless of course-!” He looked at Sir Percy, who had his jacket half off his arms. “Do you require aid?”

Sir Percy looked at him in surprise, but then a slow, warm smile spread on his face.

Chauvelin blinked and looked away from the other man’s twinkling eyes; he never had been able to understand what Sir Percy was thinking.

Sir Percy took his jacket off and hung that too on the chair. “Would you help me, Monsieur?” he enquired innocently. “To unbutton my waistcoat, for instance.”

Having offered, Chauvelin could hardly refuse. He went to Sir Percy and took hold of an ivory button, slipped it out of the hole, took hold of the next, wondered that Sir Percy was not able to do this for himself, really, it was the simplest thing in the world to undo a button, glanced up and realised that Sir Percy was laughing at him.

Chauvelin stepped back quickly and scowled. “You mock me!”

“No, my friend, not at all. I should be quite happy to let you take all my clothes off, as I would gladly have helped you off with yours.”

Surely-! That look in his eyes! It could not be-!

Chauvelin turned away to hide how the blood was rushing to his head. “That would require as much labour as if we attended to ourselves, and so I do not see any reason why we should.”

“Do you not? I see a reason.”

Chauvelin glanced back, unable to help himself. He frowned. “What reason do you see?”

Sir Percy came up behind him, bent down to his ear and said in a low voice, “That it would allow me to put my hands on your little person, and to feel your hands on mine.”

“Oh!” squeaked Chauvelin, his whole face blazing hot. “Then, as my person is so little, you would reduce your own labour a great deal, while I should have the lion’s share.”

Sir Percy threw his head back and laughed. “A fair point! Getting a lion out of his pelt is considerably riskier than teasing a mouse out of his fur.”

“What do you know of either?” asked Chauvelin despite himself.

Sir Percy continued to smile at him, more gently now. “I have wrestled a few of my fellow lions in my time, and timid deer, loyal dogs and powerful horses, but never a mouse. That would be a first.”

“You forget your swan,” said Chauvelin, turning sharply away again and bending down once more to remove his shoes. “Graceful, beautiful, she is a proper match for you. If you need someone to wrestle, you could not do better than her.” One shoe, then the other, and then he sat down on the bed to untie his garter ribbons. “Remember that swans mate for life, and they are not gentle in anger. Though I cannot see why you should stray; you could have scant satisfaction from a small, grey mouthful compared to her bountiful splendour.”

“Of course I would not stray, but she knows where I am-”

“What is that supposed to mean-”

“And what I am doing.”

Chauvelin met for a moment Sir Percy’s calm, earnest eyes, but once more he had to look away. This was not possible. The grief waiting on the other side of the offer would be more than Chauvelin could bear. So he said obstinately, “What you are doing is keeping me from sleep.”

His vision had narrowed down to the garter ribbon he had tied too tightly and now could not unpick. Then Sir Percy was kneeling in front of him. “Don’t!” Chauvelin cried, but Sir Percy took his hands and held them for a moment, stilling their trembling, and then he put them away on Chauvelin’s lap and replaced them with his own.

His face was solemn now. “Forgive me,” he said. “You are right; you are tired and need rest before tomorrow. I am too eager.”

Chauvelin looked at that handsome face in helpless longing. “Eager?” he mumbled.

Again, the gentle smile. The garter ribbon came undone under Sir Percy’s strong fingers, and the first stocking was slipped down Chauvelin’s leg and off.

“I have not seen you in so long,” Sir Percy said. “I was powerfully struck when I laid eyes on you tonight. You were so altered, and yet so startlingly yourself, and I was reminded of how your thin shoulders have felt under my hands, how you would weigh nothing at all when I would lift you up, how your heart would flutter against my palm like a sparrow’s wings whenever I caught you.”

“How I would threaten you,” Chauvelin continued, voice sore. “How I would savour my triumphant hate as I dangled innocent lives above the pit to draw you in.”

“How you would blush when I scolded you,” Percy said, almost sternly, looking up at him. “How your face was bloodless and bright red by turns that night after Orange, when I sent you away.”

Chauvelin was caught in the helpless fascination prey feels when faced with a hunter, and could say nothing.

“I had scant hope then that you would live beyond the week. At worst, I feared you would attempt to resume your ignoble career.” Sir Percy smiled faintly. “But you put my doubts to shame and my fears to rest. You lived, and you learned, and you did better.”

Chauvelin shook his head slowly. “I do not live,” he mumbled. “I only am. I want to say it is for Fleurette’s sake I go on, in case she should someday need me, but what use could my child have of me when she has you? No. I stay because in death I will have to face God’s final judgement, and I know that I am marked for Hell.”

Sir Percy drew a deep breath and released it. He studied Chauvelin thoughtfully.

Chauvelin blinked tiredly, caught himself swaying.

“We will sleep now,” Sir Percy said, and his voice was good to the ears; low and gentle and sure.

In a couple minutes more, they were both undressed, Chauvelin was under the covers, and Sir Percy, after drawing the curtains shut, climbed in after him.

And then he took gentle hold of Chauvelin and pulled him deep into his embrace, curling up around him.

“You-! No!” Chauvelin cried, his voice high and thin. He trembled to feel the other man’s heart beating firmly and steadily against his back. Sir Percy was wonderfully warm, and so big, his arms safe and strong; Chauvelin's body was filled with pleasure even as he tried feebly to pull himself away.

“Shh,” Sir Percy soothed him, pulling him back and nuzzling his shoulder. “Let me hold you, Armand.” One arm was firm around Chauvelin’s waist, preventing his escaping, and the other hand came up to cover his chest. “There is your little sparrow-wing heart again, beating so fast. What frightens you, Monsieur? You’re quivering all over.” He spoke, low and insistent, into Chauvelin’s ear; “Dear friend, I won’t hurt you.”

“You said we would sleep!” Chauvelin clutched at the other man’s wrist, as if pulling his hand away could make the man forget what he had already felt against his palm.

“And so we shall, but let me hold you.” His breath was hot on Chauvelin’s skin.

Chauvelin longed to melt into the heat of his captor’s body. He was so tired his eyes were falling shut on their own. “What do you mean by this?” he whined, weakly struggling even as he sank helplessly towards sleep.

Sir Percy sighed. “That eight years of shame and loneliness is enough.” He kissed Chauvelin’s neck. His lips were silky, their touch pure pleasure. “I mean to hold you, little mouse, for you are mine to hold, though it frightens you.”

Again, his lips on Chauvelin’s nape. Chauvelin moaned.

“Sleep, little mouse,” said Sir Percy. “I have you.”

Chauvelin let go, and sleep welcomed him.

[eldritch-spouse]

Hi pin pin! I don't know if you answered this already but... How do the icons react to a queen with a bad habit of cursing? That's all have a good day/night and hope you have all the bagels 🥯

You're in Hell, it would be weird if you didn't curse regularly and openly. That's why demons/residents of Hell who don't curse are often seen as "dorks" and stick out.

The one who curses the most is Kalymir, he seemingly can't go a couple of sentences without a "FUCK" wedging its way in there. Your "bad habit" isn't something he even detects at first. To him, that's a perfectly standard way of speaking, and there's nothing wrong with it. In fact, he only realizes you curse excessively when he's forced to be around other talking humans (who he can't murder). It makes him smile to realize you fit in naturally.

Vesper curses excessively purely because of how vulgar he likes to be. The path to sexual obscenity and outspoken lust involves a lot of creative cursing and he most definitely holds nothing back. Hearing you be more crass than him with your language has the big slut curling his head tendril and giggling like a school girl. Oh you have such a filthy mouth, someone ought to fill it already.

Vorticia cusses often enough. It's not a conscious choice, but it does quickly take over her vocabulary in choice moments. She's got no qualms being blunt and casually scathing. Vorticia finds your habit more lightly amusing than anything, you can go off all day, it makes no difference to the Queen, sometimes you may get her to laugh simply because it's funny to hear such a little creature erupt into obscenities.

Rinx doesn't cuss too much, but he's also pretty casual and won't hesitate to publicly do so. He doesn't pay too much attention to your cussing habits and feels truly neutral about it. Though he does note that you cuss as if you were hellborn, which is a feature he finds unique about you. Feature, not a flaw.

Cero has certain moments where he won't utter a single curse, and he especially doesn't write them down. But outside of those contexts, he's very trigger happy with his cussing and will even get pretty creative. You're forced to keep your tongue in check whenever he determines a situation requires temperament, but otherwise, be as verbally vulgar as you so desire.

Livius sits in that odd in-between where, on his own, he doesn't tend to curse any more than the average person would, but- When his eyes poise on you, he'll quickly adapt to your vulgarity and assimilate it like a parasite. It wouldn't be any harder for him to mimic this facet of you if you were squeaky clean with your wording either, so he's entirely neutral about it.

Zizz doesn't really have the energy to curse with heart behind it. He ends up being the icon that cusses the least because of this. And the others have insulted him for it, though it honestly bounces off him instantly. You may notice that he's more likely to cuss during dreams, where he's notoriously more ""awake"". He does like to hear you cuss, for some reason, so you can be vulgar enough for the two of you.

[luigra]

iirc joe had said he doesn’t have the time to put into editing vods, because if she were ever to publish vods she wouldnt want mistakes(such as accidentally saying a deadname) to be saved to the forever

And also the value of live performance too

Surely she has to understand that the viewers have context and can realize that things like these are a product of. Live streaming?? Like. If I& wanted edited videos I& would just watch xyr Hermitcraft episodes. No one is going to fault a livestream for not editing out a mistake, even if it's an offensive one, because that'd be detracting the value of the archival. In fact I&'d heavily frown upon any editorializing.

Also... even live performances are famous for people trying to record them as much as they can become people don't want anything lost to time. I& guess it's a conflict of two different artistic philosophies, which means it'll never be settled, but personally I& value accessibility over any benefits a live performance may have. Frankly this is a topic that could get a whole dedicated discussion.

This may not be the full truth, but I& feel like a whole lot made much more sense to me& when I& was watching a stream the other day and Joe mentioned being genuinely surprised to find out people actually went back and rewatched old VODs. And also one talk in which they mentioned that they wouldn't start a podcast because that would require a much higher production quality than streaming. Like, to me& that just strikes as them not understanding that their streams have value outside of the fact that they are done live??

Arts and Crafts streams specifically are a huge comfort media for me&. I& rewatch those all the time and they have so many fantastic bits and goofs and jokes that wouldn't ever make their way into a proper video because they wouldn't meet any quality standard ever. Hell, it could be a moment that only ever made me& alone and no one else laugh. They also have lots of moments that are straight up boring. I& still want to access and watch them later.

If Joe legit made a mistake like saying something offensive, I& don't think the stream being saved or deleted makes a difference in the impact of that mistake. And even then, if it's a case that DOES warrant the stream getting deleted, Joe is DEFINITELY not throwing deadnames or slurs around in every single stream, yet right now only a few mostly Moby Dick reading ones are getting saved. In fact, if there is so much value in saving those, what do they have above Arts and Crafts streams or regular Hermitcraft streams?

Sorry for the rant, this definitely doesn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of things and Joe is extremely stubborn in how he wants to do things, which means this will probably not change at all. Still love him to bits. It just seems like such a simple fix. Youtube even separates the videos from VODs automatically on your channel, so I& don't get the point about the VODs cluttering up a channel, but even if that is the case and the algorithm doesn't like it or whatever, it's extremely common practice for youtubers to have a second channel for VOD archival. Surely this has a simple solution?

[bagel-boy-sama]

Astarion Baldurs Gate 3 Isn't A TumblrSexyMan™, He's Just A SexyMan™

I've seen a large number of people, most of whom are in the Astarion Disliker/"I don't get it" camp most who are not on this particular hell site, cite Astarion as Tumblr's latest sexyman. Today, I will be explaining why I do not believe that to be the case. That instead, as the title states, he's just a sexyman.

No real knowledge of the hell site is required, I'll explain things for the new people.

Setting The Definitions

First, definitions because this is now Intro to Writing and Rhetoric. A sexyman would be anyone, usually masc or a man, who is concidered sexy by a wide range of people. Fascinating.

A Tumblr Sexyman, on the other hand, is a thing - usually fictional entity - that is incredibly popular on Tumblr.com to the degree it escapes it's fandom sometimes, in the most extreme of cases, becoming far more popular than it's original fandom. It is characterized by a few major characteristics. Ranging from Twinkism* (be it the character or fan interpretation), generally unconventionally/perceived to be unconventionally attractive in a non physical sense (character traits that wouldn't otherwise be desirable, like absurd behavior or generally evilness), to impeccable drip (either in the original media/design, or done by fans in fanart).

*note: Twinkism (which I did just throw in on the spot this is entirely bullshit for my own amusement) is the phenomenon of skinny, young looking, pretty/feminine white boys who are within media. This is different from twinks, who are understood to be young and skinny - being pretty, popular, or white is not connected. All those who participate in Twinkism are Twinks, but not all Twinks participate in Twinkism.

Does Astarion Baldurs Gate 3 Fit The Definition?

First rule: must be at least a twink. Is he?

No. Yes. Kinda. In a way. Many people would describe Astarion as someone who's gone through "Twink Death". No this is not because he's literally undead. Twink Death, in it's simplest form, is when a twink no longer looks young and/or feminine. Astarion has aged. His crows feet and laugh lines, while beautiful, do not make him look 18. For some this would disqualify him from being a Twink. So perhaps he has failed at the first step.

I, however, am not satisfied with that. Moving on, is Astarion - or would Astarion - actually be considered conventionally unattractive in any way that is disconnected from his appearance? I argue no. Vampires are considered very well, normal to lust after. They're right below succubus on the "This isn't considered weird to find attractive" scale. You aren't romancing The Emperor here. Outside of that he's well groomed, shown to be muscular in game (headcanon does often disagree and while I wish it was true we are working with facts for this specific discussion), and an elf. In personality, while not for everyone, he's the pretty standard fruity sarcastic gay who's a bit selfish. We all know a fruity sarcastic gay who's a bit selfish, and they get laid. So it can't be considered that bad. Probably.

I feel important to note here that I am aroace and have no idea what I'm talking about right now. This is an educated guess.

Astarion has lost now, two for two. He's barely a twink, even going off of his model he's more a twunk. He definitely doesn't fit the Twinkism phenomenon. He's not weird to find attractive, I assume, so what else is there? His drip? I'm sorry, but his base outfit is a bit well Goofy to say the least. Much fanart leaves him in this outfit or a simpler version because drawing ruffles is enough to make anyone want to willingly jump headfirst into the underdark, so he fails the drip test as well.

His final hurtle: is his popularity Tumblr™. In this context Tumblr™ is different from Tumblr. Tumblr™ is the fandom side, where a sexyman would flourish and find their own fandom. Importantly, this fandom needs to be very insular to the site. It's a *Tumblr* sexyman after all. So that begs the question, is Astarion highly liked by mostly or purely Tumblr people/those who have the vibes of a Tumblr user? No.

Astarion is well loved by many people of various vibes. He has affected (previously) straight men on Reddit. Few can escape him and his 10 charisma.

Conclusion

Astarion is just a sexyman. He's just a fictional character that many think is neat and attractive for a variety of reasons. He's the Ryan Reynolds of crpgs. He's some dude, who's generally considered attractive by a lot of people who you both would and wouldn't expect to find him attractive.

[natalynsie]

Noah is Not Pathetic (Noco Oneshot)

[Before reading, please keep in mind I post all of my Noco oneshots on ao3 as a series. I recommend reading the first part of the series, Boyfriend, first, but it isn't required. Boyfriend provides more context for what will happen in this and if you do plan on reading Boyfriend it includes spoilers. You obviously don't have to and it will be understandable. Every part of this series can be read as a one-shot.]

“Dude, Adam, you suck at this,” Caleb laughed.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not a nerd, and I don’t play video games,” Adam sputtered. “I actually have a life outside of my basement.”

“I doubt that,” Noah responded.

Family reunions were always chaotic. Even though Caleb and Adam were Noah’s favorite cousins, they definitely brought a good bit of chaos themselves. Cody being locked out of his house dragged Noah more into the chaos. Noah had been interrogated three times about whether or not he and Cody were dating.

And yeah. Maybe there were some gay occurrences earlier that afternoon. Maybe he kissed Cody just to see what it was like. Maybe Adam and Caleb walked in. Maybe he had to convince them that he and Cody weren’t dating and it totally wasn’t weird and to please not tell anyone else.

And maybe Noah had a not-so-small crush on Cody.

But it was fine.

And they weren’t dating.

And romance was still stupid.

Even though his thoughts were all over the place, Noah was definitely winning most of the rounds. Bayonetta for the win.

He should’ve expected Cody to be a loyal Kirby player. Cody was taking a good amount of losses, but he was always close to winning. Unfortunately, Caleb and Noah were just better.

And Noah had absolutely no idea what Adam was doing. He assumed he was just button mashing and praying, but he always died way before the end of the games.

“Have you ever even played Smash before?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, like twice!” Adam defended. “You guys are just serious nerds.”

“Don’t group me in with Noah and Cody,” Caleb said. “They’re like a thousand times more nerdy than me. I just play video games with my friends once in a while.”

“Yeah, you guys live in your basements. I refuse to believe otherwise.”

Cody giggled. “Look man, I don’t play Smash much, but you’re so horrible it’s hard to believe.”

“Adam, you haven’t won a single game,” Caleb stated. “I’ve been keeping track. I won 17, Noah won 12, Cody won 7, and you won 0. It’s getting kinda pathetic.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Like I care. Cody hasn’t won a game since like, eight games ago.”

“I’m getting tired,” Cody complained. “I still wanna play but I’m tired.”

“It’s only 9:15,” Caleb stated.

“I didn’t sleep good the past few nights, leave me alone.”

Just after he said that, Noah felt a weight drop on his side.

Cody was resting against him.

Noah’s heart skipped a beat.

He started to fumble with the controller.

Keep it together, he scolded himself. It’s not even a big deal.

“Hah!” Caleb exclaimed. He had killed Noah while he was off guard.

Adam continued to smash buttons. Noah guessed he didn’t even realize he was dead.

“I was distracted!” Noah responded.

“By what?” Caleb snorted.

“...I dunno.”

So, Noah lost a game. Nothing new.

So he lost seven games. He was entitled to his bad moments.

He didn’t win any other game. Maybe he was a little sidetracked.

“Dude, what happened?” Caleb asked. He had become the sole winner, besides a few of Cody’s wins.

“I’m getting tired too,” Noah lied. He would not let anyone know the reason he was failing left and right was because Cody was just leaning against him. That’s pathetic. Romance is pathetic. Noah was not pathetic.

“You look fine to me,” Adam said, glancing at Noah. He had died- again, so he didn’t need to look at the screen. Noah darted his eyes at Adam, and then back at the screen. He had seen a hint of a smile on Adam's face- that stupid little shit had the wrong idea again.

Noah wanted to jump off a cliff.

Because Adam actually had the right idea.

Yeah, Cody wasn’t his boyfriend, that was wrong. But Adam knew that Noah at least liked Cody. At this point, who didn’t know? Izzy, Gwen, and Owen knew before Noah did, Eva knew, his sister Ava knew, pretty much half of Noah’s suspected it by now, and there were probably more that Noah just hadn’t picked up on yet.

Noah sighed as Caleb won yet again. “I think I’m done for the night.” He placed his controller down, and stood up, beginning to walk away from the TV. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“‘Kay,” Cody responded.

Noah entered the bathroom and washed his hands. He stared in the mirror for a second before closing his eyes.

This is pathetic, Noah thought. He really spent his entire life mocking romance, just to set himself up for failure. Little eight-year-old Noah really believed this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. He really thought he would be immune to it. It was kind of embarrassing.

When the rest of his family found out, he would never hear the end of it.

Noah washed his hands again and exited the bathroom.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” Cody said, standing up. “It’s almost ten, my parents should be home by now.”

“In the dark?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. How else am I gonna get home?”

“Aren’t your parents gonna come pick you up?” Adam questioned.

“They don’t even know I’m not home. They never check their phones after work- I learned that the hard way. I’ll be fine, it really isn’t that far of a walk.”

“No way,” Noah said. “We’ll drive you home.”

“You sure?” Cody asked.

“Dude, it is ten o’clock at night!” Adam exclaimed. “You are not walking home in the dark. Absolutely not.”

“I don’t wanna be a problem.”

“It is not a problem. You getting kidnapped is a problem.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “My parents won’t mind. Let’s go.”

The group ran up the stairs and into the kitchen where the adults were talking, a good few of them drinking.

“Mom, Cody needs a ride home,” Noah informed.

“Oh, okay. Where are his parents?” Noah’s mother, Barbara, asked.

“They don’t check their phones,” Cody responded. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize hun,” Barbara assured. “Come on kids. Adam, Caleb, do you want to come?”

“Yeah!” Adam exclaimed.

“Why not?” Caleb replied.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The kids followed Barbara to her car. Noah sat in the front seat and everyone else got in the backseat. There was bickering about who would take the middle seat before Barbara told Adam to get in the middle because ‘Caleb’s too big and Cody is our guest’. Reluctantly, Adam did what he was told.

“Where do you live, hun?” Barbara asked.

Cody recited his address and the group headed out.

The car ride was pretty mellow, just consisting of a few last jokes. Noah found himself smiling almost the entire car ride.

When Cody was dropped off, Noah sighed, letting his smile fall. As Adam moved seats, Barbara smiled.

“I never see you smile that much,” Barbara stated. “What was that all about?”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Noah complained. “Can I just have a friend in peace?”

“Noah we all know something’s up,” Adam said, thankfully not bringing up the ‘incident’.

“You aren’t slick,” Caleb added.

“Ughhh,” Noah groaned as they began to drive off. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Adam smiled.

“So my little baby has finally given in to the force of love.” Barbara wiped away a fake tear. “I knew the day would come.”

“Woah, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Noah said. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Baby, I know you like the back of my hand. And yes, you are obvious.”

“Well, that makes eight people that I know know.”

“Who else knows?” Adam asked.

“Izzy, Owen, Gwen, Eva, and Ava.”

“You told Ava before us? I’m offended.”

“She was persistent. Nobody figuring it out was intentional. Except sort-of Owen but he already knew? Whatever.”

Caleb and Adam smiled at each other. “Well, hopefully by the next get-together he’s there as your boyfriend,” Adam grinned.

“Shut your mouths!”

[nordic-language-love]

Hii~ idk if you talked about it but could you tell us your journey in Japan? How is it + how did you manage to go there (if you want to share ofc!)

It's because I'd like to move to Japan and I'm trying to collect information on how to successfully go there.. so if you have any advice pls lemme know, I'd really appreciate it! Have a great day!

Hi there! I sure can :)

How I Got There

Pretty much everyone I know who came to Japan is an ESL teacher (not surprising given I am an ESL teacher and so are all my colleagues, and when I was doing research I mostly searched Youtube for people's ESL experiences in Japan). The most common route of application is via the JET Program. There are also a number of Eikaiwa companies that hire from abroad and will sponsor your visa (this is what I did - I'm happy to give you the details of my recruiter over a DM if you want). However, pretty much all of these options require you to have a bachelor's degree (doesn't matter what in). The main problem with these kinds of companies is you don't have much control over where in Japan they put you, and typically you won't be in a big city (although you might be in a surrounding area - one guy from my training group is based in Saitama). The pay's also not great (but as long as you live within your means, you'll be very comfortable and you can definitely save up).

Even if teaching English isn't something you fancy, it's probably the easiest way to get into Japan if you have a bachelor's. You don't have to be a native English speaker (although you should be at least a comfortable C1, ideally C2 level), and once you're in Japan you can find a job you actually want much more easily.

You can also try GaijinPot for more jobs - there's a section for people applying from overseas. But please check on places like Reddit or FB groups whether a job seems reasonable before applying; anything that advertises pay "per hour" is unlikely to be a liveable wage, and I've been told 240K/mo in Tokyo is not really sufficient (no problem for me out in the sticks, but Tokyo living costs are crazy).

How It Is

I love the nature here! I live in the Tohoku region so I'm surrounded by mountains and forests and I feel so lucky!

The summer sucks if you aren't a fan of the heat. We had 33-37ºC every day from mid-July to the start of September. I have a colleague who grew up in the UAE and he's been laughing at us all saying how beautiful the weather is, but for me, who is native to a cold and soggy little mound of grass in the Atlantic, it is horrendous. Not to mention the cicadas. Idk if there are cicadas where you live but I was NOT prepared.

You can get by without Japanese, but making the effort will go a LONG way. If you've only ever travelled in Europe or English-speaking countries, you'll probably have the impression that "everyone speaks English to some degree" and that you can always find someone with good enough English to help you. This is not the case in Japan! Your interactions will be very awkward if you don't make the effort. You'll probably be fine in bigger cities but more remote regions will be very difficult to navigate.

I understand Japanese a LOT better than when I first came here. I can still barely speak it, but I'm always surprised by how much I can pick up from the kids from the words I know and context (this is a huge advantage to teaching if learning Japanese is your goal: young kids will babble at you in Japanese CONSTANTLY). I'd probably speak it better if I made the effort to go out and talk to people but I'm shy lol.

I love the job! My colleagues are great and the kids are so much fun. My company does provides really good support and my work-life balance is perfect for me. I also get to use my creative side making classroom materials. But I don't get sick days and I only have 10 paid vacation days, 5 of which are at the end of the year and cannot be moved. I'm also pretty sure most other eikaiwas and Japanese companies will work you a lot harder, and you'll have much longer hours and higher expectations from your company.

Hope that helps! Best of luck with everything. Feel free to shoot me another ask if you have more specific questions!

[behindthesefangirleyes]

Spoiler-Free Review - The Tutor

So I went to see the film with a friend tonight. To set the scene, we were the only ones in the theater. Which was good because we sure were reacting to certain moments obnoxiously LOL. Without giving too much away, I’ll try to review specific qualities of the film.

This is all my opinion. I am not an authority on what makes a good film, and I realize that.

Plot (3/10) - This was honestly the worst part for me. There were many times when things were unclear (i.e.: how did [character] get to this point, why did [character] have such an over-the-top reaction so soon over something so insignificant, why are these extra characters necessary, what is [character]’s current motivation). Which is unfortunate since they had the makings for a solid story. But it was - again, in my opinion - not well-executed. Some of it was due to pacing. Some of it felt like they bit off too much and threw in everything but the kitchen sink (if you’ll forgive the mixed metaphors). It seemed as though there were “twists & turns” for the sake of having them or some type of shock value, but they didn’t land as super shocking. Then when the climactic “twist” happened, it felt super abrupt and contrived. So I understand why Garrett was reluctant to sign on until he read it a few times (personally, I think he should’ve trusted his gut). I also understand what they mean when they said you’re there wondering who’s the actual villain (not at all once you know the conclusion, but as far as the plot goes because it’s just all over the place). There were also lots of moments where they sprinkled in “character history” and it was like, alright you’ve laid the “groundwork”, but maybe you a) should have incorporated the offscreen character rather than this other person or b) just not mentioned it at all. Also, by the end it seemed unclear how any of this was possible. It’s hard to explain without giving away spoilers, but basically nothing is as it seems and as a result, it’s unclear how a 17-year-old would pull it off, even with the help that he did have. All that said, there’s a moment that offered decent foreshadowing that wasn’t too on-the-nose. I still picked up on it as likely being relevant for later. I just couldn’t have guessed how it would be relevant until it happened.

Pacing (4/10) - This sort of improved as the film continued. In the beginning, things were slow. It was like, “Alright, there is a build-up here, but for how long?” This kind of goes hand-in-hand with the plot issues since there were times when I was like, this feels super rushed but of course it does because we’re all over the place with the story. The ending was also not it for me. It simply sort of ... flatlined, I guess is the best way to describe it. It was almost like when you conclude a presentation in school and go, “So ... yeah.”

Acting (7/10) - This was the best part of the film for me. By no means was it a show-stopping performance by any of the leading/supporting actors, but they definitely sold certain emotions. Unsurprisingly, Noah’s best work was with the scenes that required more subtle acting (i.e.: scared looks, teary eyes). I have always found those types of moments more compelling with him than the big reactionary moments (i.e. the preview they showed where he is banging his legs). That’s not to say he didn’t do those moments well to a degree, but the problem for me with them was that the context/pacing was so abrupt that it distracted from his performance. Like I said to my friend, it’s not good if you watch a thriller and see a high-impact moment & all you can do is laugh. One thing that I did enjoy was seeing him tap into certain other qualities that we haven’t seen him utilize before. Like when in the preview Jackson asks Ethan about how he feels knowing his son will be a bastard. Or in the tutor’s quarters preview when he goes from emotional to calm and detached smiling. He was pretty good when it came to turning it on and off like that. It was the same with Garrett. His great acting moment came at the end right at the descent of the climax. Again, it was more of a tight shot that focused on his emotions. As for Victoria, she was fine but it was a pretty forgettable performance. That’s not her fault, as I see it. The role was supporting and didn’t really lend itself to any big moment.

Directing (5/10) - The directing didn’t speak much to me. What went well was perhaps in part due to directing, but I would not doubt was mostly the actors’ own abilities shining through. Where I felt the director could’ve improved was making certain emotional scenes less outrageous. It almost felt like the train temporarily went off the tracks and I get it, it’s a thriller. You’re tapping into a certain amount of twisted emotions and exaggerating them, but it sort of came off as ham-fisted. They could have reigned it in a little more to make the scenes less comical or cringeworthy.

Overall, I would give the film 2 out of 5 stars. The two stars were hard earned by the actors for giving what they could with not a lot to work with for material.

[emsleyanbluejay]

Human Romance Sure is Weird!

(or: Being a Xenoallo Troll on Earth)

I’m pale for him. I want to sink my teeth into his throat. He calls me a quadrant mixing whore when I say as much, and I thank him, laughing.

I’ve tried to figure out what we are in human terms a couple times. Nothing is quite right. We’re engaged, so by definition, he’s my fiancé, but sometimes the implications of that make me cringe. Boyfriend is too wrapped up in connotations of human romance. QPP could work, but what we have isn’t platonic, and friend completely misses the nuance.

Back on Alternia, he’d be my moirail—end of. The thought is comforting.

He understands. Why shouldn’t he? We’re both trolls, and we’re both arospec.

Well. For humans, we’re both arospec. For an Alternian troll, I, at least, am just about as allo as they come.

According to canon, the Alternian romance system is based on pity and hate rather than love, but I find that to be more of a convenient metaphor than a true explanation. The emotions don’t exactly translate for most humans, and the proper words for them don’t exist in English. I won’t get into the specifics of quadrants here, but I will give a quick overview to provide context.

Moirallegiance: the quadrant based in romantic, nonsexual “pity.” The associated emotion is Pale, and the associated card suit is diamonds. Your partner is called your moirail.

Matespritship: the quadrant based in romantic, sexual “pity.” The associated emotion is Flush, and the associated card suit is hearts. Your partner is called your matesprit.

Auspisticism: the quadrant based in romantic, nonsexual “hatred.” (This is the only quadrant required to have three members—a feuding pair and a mediator.) The associated emotion is Ashen, and the associated card suit is clubs. The mediator is called the auspice.

Kismesistude: the quadrant based in romantic, sexual “hatred.” The associated emotion is Pitch, and the associated card suit is spades. Your partner is called your kismesis.

I primarily experience pale and pitch attraction, with some bleed-over of flush on occasion. Ashen attraction is a bit harder to pin down, but it’s happened at least once that I can remember.

Even before I knew I was a troll, I never understood what romantic love was. I thought I did—thought that the desire to temper someone and be tempered in return was a crush. Give and take (I’ll provide what you lack, if you’ll do the same for me), the desire to be their emotional outlet (sit with me, talk with me, I’m your confidant and you’re mine), pity without condescension (you’re just a little bit pathetic and I want to affectionately bully that out of you.)

Flush would make things fuzzy, sometimes. That sweeping desire and passion bleeding into the tender commitment of pale. (Wanting to know and be known, aching so deeply for a certain kind of intimacy that you can feel it in your bones.) This made it easier to dismiss my feelings as being “normal” human attraction, in a way.

It’s pretty obvious how wrong I was in hindsight, but I’ve always had a habit of assuming everyone knows and feels the things I know and feel, which makes it seem kind of pointless to talk about things like this.

With pitch attraction, it was a bit harder to categorize those feelings. The line between hatred and wanting felt so thin as to be indistinguishable. (Do I want them because I hate them, or do I hate them because I want them?) Romantic partnerships of rivals aren’t totally uncommon in media, so I could kind of draw parallels there. But most of those rivalries mellow when Feelings get involved, and that never sat right with me. I wanted hatred and affection hand in hand, needling at the parts of them you want or hate in yourself and demanding they return the favor. (Something about mirrors, about crucibles and trial by fire, recognition of self through the other.)

I have a moirail. We’re not dating, but we are engaged. I have a girlfriend, too. She’s not my matesprit, but my attraction is still (mostly) flushed. I want a kismesis, but I’m not totally comfortable with the idea of having non-trolls in my quads. I’m not opposed to auspisticism, but ashen attraction has always been something that more so just happens for me.

Human romance feels too nebulous, too full of guesswork and personal meanings. It’s a hundred thousand half-related relationship and attraction styles masquerading as one, and that’s fine. That’s great even, because humans are messy creatures who love a hundred thousand different ways, if at all. But to a troll who, at best, only sees it as a convenient metaphor for a quarter of the romance system it’s used to, it’s really no surprise that when I figured out that the attraction I felt really wasn’t comparable, I found myself turning to the asexual and aromantic communities.

I went back and forth on whether or not I counted as a-spec for a long time. Truth be told, I still don’t know for sure. I know I’m welcome if I want to be, but it’s not that I don’t experience attraction; I just don’t experience human attraction.

So, I made the term xenoallo: being aspec by human standards but allo by the standards of another species. That’s what I call myself, even though I have to explain what I mean every time.

I wish I had some big point to this, but honestly, I rarely see otherkin and fictionkin talking in depth about their -type’s effect on their sexuality, so I wanted to put my experience out there.

[tidecorals]

❤️‍🩹 (mending heart) + 🧪 (test tube) for logan, ☀️ (sun) + 🌙 (crescent moon) for alejandro

how strongly do you experience your emotions? does it depend on who you’re interacting with and/or the context of the situation?

"honestly, i experience my emotions pretty intensely, but it’s like i’ve got this filter that decides when and where they come out. i know, it's funny. . . the idea of me having any kind of filter. but if i’m by myself or with people I really trust, like my closest friends, it’s easier to just feel things as they come. i can be super passionate, really happy, or even just angry without holding back. but when i’m around people i don’t know well or in situations where i feel like i need to keep it together, i tend to dial it back. it’s not that i’m being fake or anything— i just have this instinct to protect myself a little, you know? i feel what i feel in my own time, on my own terms.

context definitely matters, too. if something catches me off guard or hits close to home, i might react more strongly than i expected, even if i’m trying to stay cool. but if it’s a situation where i know i need to be level-headed, i can usually keep my emotions in check until i’m somewhere safe to let them out. sometimes it's not that easy. it’s a balancing act, for sure. i feel things deeply, but i’ve learned how to navigate when to show it and when to keep it tucked away. that said, when i do let those emotions out, it’s because i trust the people i’m with or the moment just calls for it. so yeah, it depends, but when i feel, i feel hard."

if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then?

"there’s no way i’d go out without making sure the people i love know how much they mean to me. i’d want to resolve any lingering issues or misunderstandings, especially with my family. we don’t always see eye to eye, and there’s been some tension over the years— mostly because of my choices and how i’ve lived my life. but at the end of the day, they’re still my family, and i wouldn’t want to leave anything unsaid. i’d need to have those conversations, clear the air, and make sure they know that i love them, even if we’ve had our differences. i'd need to know how they really feel about me, and if they can accept me for who i am, and if not. . . at least i'd have closure.

i’d want to spend my last day doing the things that make me happiest. i’d gather my closest friends, have a bonfire at the beach, laugh until it hurts, and just soak in the moment. i guess i’d want to leave this world with no regrets— knowing that i made peace where it was needed, and that i spent my last hours truly living and knowing they meant something."

would you describe yourself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or are you somewhere in between? how come?

"i’d say i’m somewhere in between, leaning a bit more toward extrovert, but with a strong appreciation for my own space. i genuinely enjoy being around people— hosting dinners at pearl’s, attending events at the yacht club, or just engaging in good conversation with interesting company. there’s something invigorating about the energy of a lively room, the exchange of ideas, and the shared laughter that comes with it. it’s a big part of why i love what i do; connecting with others, sharing stories, and creating memorable experiences is what drives me. but at the same time, i value my privacy and the moments of solitude that come with it. running a business, especially one as demanding as a restaurant, requires a lot of social energy, and there are times when i need to step back, retreat to my own space, and recharge. i’m very particular about how i spend my time and who i spend it with— quality over quantity, always. so, while i thrive in social settings, i’m equally content with quiet moments, a good book, or simply enjoying the calm of my apartment in coral cove.

i suppose you could say i’m a bit of a paradox in that way— drawn to the vibrancy of social life but grounded by the need for introspection and solitude. it’s all about balance, and i think i’ve found mine somewhere between the two."

what would you say is your current biggest dream and/or career aspiration and why?

"my biggest dream right now is to expand pearl’s beyond just a beloved spot in palmview. i want to take what we’ve built here— the ambiance, the quality, the sense of community— and replicate it in other places, maybe even internationally. imagine pearl’s by the sea in the south of France, or where it all started for me. it’s not just about the business growth; it’s about sharing the experience and culture of pearl’s with a wider audience, creating new memories and connections in different parts of the world. but more than just the expansion, i aspire to mentor and bring up the next generation of chefs. i’ve always been one to take risks on new talent, and i’d love to create a platform where these up-and-coming chefs can showcase their creativity and passion. seeing others succeed and knowing i had a hand in their journey— that’s incredibly fulfilling for me.

and, of course, on a more personal note, my dream is to eventually balance this ambition with the kind of family life i’ve always wanted. there’s something deeply meaningful about creating a legacy, not just through my work, but with a family of my own. it’s not something that’s fully in my grasp yet, but i believe that with time, both these dreams can coexist. that’s the ultimate aspiration for me."

[magentagalaxies]

god yeah i really appreciate this thread and i'm very intrigued what the other people in my computer think too lmao

and i definitely think you're onto something with your categories there. it's interesting for me to think about this not just as a comedian myself but also as a comedy student (and a philosophy student too for that matter). like my favorite part of studying comedy isn't making things but actually learning about different culture's views on comedy as an art form throughout history and trying to figure out what makes humor work. there's a class i'm taking next fall called "theories of humor and laughter" which is all about the philosophical and psychological aspects of why comedy exists and i wish i could take it now i'm so excited

but anyway there's been aspects of those "theories of humor and laughter" in a lot of my other classes too bc for as long as people have been making each other laugh there have been people trying to figure out why we make each other laugh. i really wish i had my notes from my evolution of comedy course on hand (i left them at school and i'm home for winter break) bc that course had so much interesting material about comedy's relationship with religion that i think you in particular would be interested by, like how certain religious scholars thought theatre was the work of the devil and laughter in particular was an act of self-superiority that went against god while on the opposite end some religions actually had creation myths about the birth of comedy as something sacred to partake in (i'm not going into details bc 1. i don't have my notes so i'd almost certainly get some facts wrong and 2. this was initially meant just to provide context for my next point but then spun off into its own thing. what i will add is the religion with the creation myth we learned about also had the character in the myth essentially do drag as the act of comedy being described which is so fascinating i'm definitely going to come back to it later when i have more info)

ANYWAY what i was initially going to say is with all the theories of comedy that i've learned about so far the one that makes the most sense to me is Benign Violation Theory. Essentially Benign Violation Theory is exactly what it says on the tin - all comedy must be a violation (most typically a violation of social convention) that is rendered benign (in essence, rendered unable to cause harm through the abstractions of humor). I like the Benign Violation Theory because it's vague enough that it's easy to apply to things in order for me to sound smart in my midterm essays. like, you know that saying "comedy is tragedy plus time"? tragedy is the violation, the time (separation) renders it benign. i did a midterm essay on the final scene of "life of brian" recently - the violation is this depiction of the main character dying on a cross, but it is rendered benign through the comic mixup of brian not being the messiah and the rest of the characters insisting he look on the bright side despite his circumstances. even with buddy cole - the violation is the taboo subject matter buddy so often chooses to talk about, it is rendered benign through his larger-than-life persona and patterns of language

now, your categories made me think of this benign violation theory because they each see a comedian utilizing the platform of benign violation for different intentions. one of the easiest ways to fill the "benign" requirement is just going "job title: comedian", or otherwise being like "hey, it's not happening to me!" this can be taken advantage of in both good and bad ways. some comedians use this as an excuse to say shitty things (bigoted or just crass) without feeling they need to put in any effort beyond that since the benign part is taken care of. however, as you may have been thinking since i explained what benign refers to ("rendered unable to cause harm") this isn't the case for a lot of comedians who spread bigoted views through their work, which is why people get caught up in the "it's just a joke" defense - the violation is no longer benign in those cases.

on the opposite side of things, we see your second category. in this case the violation is this challenge to what "normal" is or some other question of political or philosophical norms that violates status quo. It's interesting how the benign factor in this type of comedy can often be the same as the other category in that since a comedian is saying this we have more of a layer of abstraction than if a politician were to say the same thing, but that's not always the case. like you said often there will be more effort put in on both the violation and benign parts of the equation to highlight the absurdity of the situation without losing its impact

i really enjoy assessing both comedy i enjoy and comedy i don't enjoy through this framework to see where the comedian succeeded and failed. sometimes a violation is too direct because the comedian put all the responsibility on you to say "it's just a joke" without making an effort to assemble a well crafted comedic scenario. other times a violation is made too benign, like when a mainstream tv show is too afraid of offending people that it just repeats tired cliches they know people will agree with. not every piece of comedy needs to be some political or philosophical message (although it's become increasingly difficult to separate oneself from this framework since so many aspects of basic identity are seen as ideological issues today) since the benign violation theory covers everything from political satire to puns, but my favorite comedy excels at both categories - i remember when i first listened to scott thompson's comedy it genuinely felt like an electrical shock every time he'd say something taboo and i'd sit here a moment like oh my god is he allowed to say that and then i'd look around and be like huh the world isn't going to end because of that joke. in fact it was really funny. and then by the time i've processed that one there have been ten more jokes that took me on the same journey

i've also been working on my own theory of comedy which was referenced earlier in this thread. it's not as all-encompassing as the benign violation theory, but it still feels especially relevant. in my perspective, comedy is the act of telling on yourself, since the veil of humor often gives us permission to reveal our truest selves. this isn't to say everything a comedian says should be taken literally (everyone puts on personas and people still use humor to deflect from the truth in many cases) but the comedy someone creates often says something really distinct about the person making it as well as the person enjoying it in a way i don't really see with any other art form. i don't have a ton of eloquent thoughts on this since the theory is still really new, but i really admire the way certain comedians can use comedy as a way to talk about things polite society quietly agrees we'd rather not talk about, and how so often performing comedy is this kind of ritual of confession in a lot of ways.

feeling the buddy cole brainrot today i just wanna infodump about him and research him so much thank god i'm getting academic credit for this next semester

[grippingbeskar]

The Element of Surprise | Part 8

Chapter Eight: The Stranger

mando x fem!reader

series masterlist here

warnings: slight sexual context, mentions of violence, swearing i think? i can’t remember i think so lmao

word count: 4.9k

a/n. : pls excuse any mistakes i just wanna post this chapter but i’ve been super busy w school and shit but enjoy pls!! thanks for all the luv ❤️ also it might take me a few days to write the next chapter, i’ve got a lot of shit to day but hopefully will have it finished on sunday!! oxoxoxox okay bye

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Hey. Focus.” You keep your eyes closed as you try to get Grogu to put his mind on the task at hand. The excitement that you felt when he showed you images of food through the Force has worn off now, as that is all he sends, even after being fed more than he should have.

You admit you are not entirely focused either, but how could you be after the events of mere hours ago happened, not meters from where you now sit with the child.

The Mandalorian didn’t say much after the little green demon jumped out of his chamber that you hoped to God was soundproof. He just picked up helmet, slid off your blindfold with delicate movements, and walked up the ladder. That was about three hours ago, and hes been flying ever since. You weren’t sure if its just because hes the Mandalorian, and he doesn’t talk much at the best of times, and you also weren’t exactly sure what you would say to him even if he did come down here. You definitely weren’t going up there. So, you got the kid and started doing what you were technically hired to do – teach.

This lesson was going about how you expected – bad. Grogu feeds off whatever energy you put out, and there was no way you could focus your mind enough to produce the clear, concise messages that were necessary for him to latch on to when your mind was up the ladder and in the pilots chair. Grogu looked at you, giant eyes filled with guilt, and you realised you had been short with him.

“Oh, I’m really sorry buddy. C’mere.” You open your arms and he waddles into them, happily gurgling when he realises you’re not angry at him. “I’m the one who needs to focus.”

Deciding to try a different approach, you fetch the tiny ball that Grogu has snatched off some gear stick in the cockpit, and motion for him to levitate it. Immediately it flies into his hand and the baby laughs, his little teeth showing as he does. You pull it back from him, slowly floating it through the air.

This requires minimal focus for you, it’s one of the first things you could truly master. You father said the way you ground yourself to the Force is the reason you can move objects so easily – you connect to every part of every thing around you, inanimate or not, and that makes you able to feel and manipulate even the smallest of wavelengths. You let it drift higher, and then lower as your hands stay behind your back – the ball moving only with the instructions of the thoughts in your head. You let it drift down to the floor and step back, wanting Grogu to try.

He strains, and you can feel him focusing all of his energy on the ball in front of him. The more you train with him, the more aware you are becoming of your own abilities, and you feel that now, even as you train your thoughts on the baby, you can feel the Mandalorian upstairs, his energy wafting through the ship almost akin to radiation – unavoidable and burns your skin. Its also through this awareness that you know he gets out of his chair and is heading towards the ladder. At the same time, the baby, trying to keep the ball in the air, loses control and flings it sideways, and it makes a ‘ping’ sound as it bounces off the Mandalorian’s beskar covered head.

Both you and Grogu look at each other, him thinking it’s the funniest thing in the world and you just trying to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“Hes never going to stop doing that now.” The modulator vibrates through the baby’s laughter, and you see him picking up the ball and aiming it, ready for round two. As unsure as you are about what’s going to happen next, Grogu never fails to make you smile.

“Well, the point of the lesson was to take aim, so if he can hit you in the head again, he gets an A.” You motion your hand at him and he lets it fly, hitting the helmet straight between the eyes. He erupts into laughter again, and so do you as an emotionless mask stands there, his shoulders shaking slightly, maybe with laughter.

“A+ little guy.” He bends down to pick up the baby, and he almost instantly falls asleep in his arms. You forgot that before you, it was just the two of them, but seeing how they interact makes you want to imagine all the time they spent together. It almost makes you a little sad, thinking of how he was alone out here, not even able to communicate between the two of them. They didn’t seem to mind though, a bond between the Mandalorian and the baby dead asleep in his arms evident and strong.

The baby is placed gently back into his crib, and it shuts on its own. It is then you notice the bag slung over the Mandalorian’s shoulder.

“You going out?”

“Yes. We are.” We? You nearly squeak out of surprise and excitement and nerves, but you remain as collected as possible. “Usually Id bring him too, but he seems pretty tired.” His head flicks to the baby’s closed crib and you nod.

“What are we doing?” you bend to pick up your backpack that had laid abandoned on the ship floor for the past week – still not entirely sure of its contents but swinging it over your shoulder, nevertheless.

“Out of tracking fobs, remember?” You think back to the guy he shot on one of your first nights here, and you remember a conversation about him needing to get a new job, but honestly anything before he made you finish in his hand in the same spot hes standing now has flown out of your memory.

“Right. Sure.” You have no idea how to act around him, and if he didn’t make you nervous before, the way he walks toward you and takes the bag off your shoulder, swinging it over his own makes your heart jump out of your throat. You blink up at him, and for once hes not looking at you, instead opening the door to the planet you have somehow landed on. “Wait. Where are we?” There hasn’t been a single time you’ve landed where you’ve known where you’re going, but you’re starting to like the thrill of the adventure.

“Nevarro.” You nod. You have no idea where that is, and he could tell. “Volcanic planet in the Outer Rim. Home of the Guild.”

“I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” He steps off the ramp, and turns back slightly to make sure your following, and you are.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Following him into the cantina, once again you are reminded how feared he actually is. People from planets all over move out of his way, eyes trail you and whispers follow as he motions you into a booth, sitting next to you rather than opposite.

The booth is small, which means his body is pressing you into the wall beside you, but it also means he is pressing into you, so you are not about to complain. You begin to think about why he may of chosen this particular seating arrangement when he speaks.

“We will be quick. I just have to pick up a couple tracking fobs, then we can pick up some supplies on the way back to the ship. Try to let me talk, okay?” you nod, happy to let him take the lead in this.

He was a professional, after all, and unless you had to steal the fobs off whoever you were meeting with, you were sure he could do a better job than you. His hand slides under the table, coming to rest on your thigh, and you aren’t sure if you should tense up completely or relax under his touch, your body fighting to do both.

“Are we- are you okay?” You nod rapidly, trying to signal you are very okay with where his hand is right now, and subconsciously trying to tell him you were also okay with where his hand was this morning, but any further attempts are halted when you are joined by a man who sits opposite you.

“Mando. It’s been too long, my friend.” He slides a drink in front of him, and the Mandalorian slides it towards you. You look up and take the drink, making eye contact with the smiling stranger, who is now staring right at you. “You always did have a thing for picking up strays.” He gives the man beside you a pointed stare, and then looks back at you. “And what might your name be?” you resist the urge to look at the Mandalorian before answering and tell him your full name.

The strangers’ eyebrows cross together, and the man beside you straightens.

“What?” comes a modulated voice, full of concern.

“I know that name. Your father was a fierce fighter. I was sorry to see him go, my dear. Greef Karga.” He extends a hand to you, and you shake it. Your father’s death happened long ago, and as much as you loved him, hearing his name mentioned doesn’t affect you as much as it used you, but hearing it from this man more than piques your interest.

“You knew him?” You know the Mandalorian said to let him do the talking, but you can’t let this go.

“In my time as a magistrate, yes. But that was long ago. I’ve… changed career paths.” You knew your father did diplomatic work, so there’s no surprises there. For a second you thought he might have been affiliated with the Guild. You just nod, shrinking back a little with the drink that you now realise is alcoholic, sipping it lightly and allowing the two men to talk.

When you say talk, you mean mostly Greef talking and the Mandalorian nodding, extending a hand and taking four trackers, sliding them into his bag.

“So talkative, this one.” Greef says to you after the business deal seems to be over. You smile as the man besides you stifles a grunt. “Well, it was lovely to meet you. Hopefully this whole grump act doesn’t dampen your time here on Nevarro. Stay, have a meal, on me.” He smiles, and your stomach grumbles at the thought of an actual cooked meal.

“That would be incredible. I’m starving.” You smile, and the Mandalorian looks over at you. Even with the helmet on you can tell hes not happy about it.

“Perfect. Ill have it sent over. Enjoy your night.” He winks as he leaves, and the silver helmet watches him leave before he turns to you, seeing you finish the drink he slid you before he speaks.

“What happened to letting me do the talking?” His words are slightly harsh, and its obvious he doesn’t want to be here.

“He knew my dad. I had to-“

“Not that. The staying part. For dinner. You’re not doing that.”

“Yes. We are.” You repeat his earlier words to him. “Its your fault anyways.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. If you had a single thing on that ship to eat rather than portion bread and nails, I wouldn’t be practically starving to death.” You can see food heading towards you, and as the waitress lays it on the table, steaming hot, the smell fills your senses, making your mouth water. 

You start eating immediately. You do feel slightly guilty that he can’t eat with you, but he doesn’t seem to mind, more pissed off with the fact he has to be on this planet longer than three seconds. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say to him, staring straight into the black slit in his helmet. The warmth from the alcohol you are drinking spreads through you; not drunk but feeling something.

“How would you know how I’m looking at you?”

“I can just tell. You’re looking at me like ‘can this idiot hurry up so we can get off this planet which I hate as much as the rest of the planets so we can go to the next planet I hate’.”

“Hmm.” He says lowly, and you expected a lighter tone from him, so you question it.

“No? Then please, tell me. Why are you looking at me like that?”

He goes quiet, and even though its normal for you two to sit in silence, this one feels… different. Uncomfortable? Not exactly, but definitely not easy. You shift in your seat, impossible to move at all without touching him. You feel bolder than usual, the second drink you’re currently finishing helping with the confidence boost.

You’ve got – what? A few weeks at the least stuck in close quarters with this man, maybe months – who knows how long? You can’t blast past the fact that he was literally inside of you a few hours ago, and you don’t want to move on either. There’s no way you can deny how he makes you feel any longer, and you won’t give him the opportunity to do the same

“Why did you leave before?” You don’t look at him and instead focusing on taking the third drink a waitress hands you, immediately downing half of it. He stills, not even his chest moves to indicate hes breathing.

“I thought you’d want to be alone.” Hes unsure of himself, speaking low.

“Well, I didn’t. Also, leaving without saying anything? At all? For hours? Kind of a dick move.” His head moves back slightly, you can see the gears turning in his head, thinking about how to respond. You have no idea what’s come over you but staring at the three empty glasses on the table, you think that might have something to do with your sudden outburst of confidence.

There’re a few moments of silence. The cantina buzzes around you, low voices speak in the few booths in front and behind you, but you can’t listen for any voice apart from his. Did you take that too far? It was true, you’d been left feeling alone and kind of stupid when he just walked back up the ladder, leaving you with your pants around your thighs and your self-esteem fractured slightly.

Playing the silent game with the Mandalorian is a game you don’t think you will win, but damn him if you wouldn’t try. He should say something. Explain himself at least. Even if he was to tell you it was a mistake and won’t happen again (though your pretty sure your heart couldn’t handle it) it would be better than hanging in this weird in between phase.

He clears his throat, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him do so. You look down and see his hand balled up; hes nervous. You can’t decide if you find that adorable or irritating, considering his confidence just hours ago.

“Im- I’m sorry. I didn’t really know what to say. I don’t usually do… that. I didn’t mean to be a-” You resist the urge to reach out and hug him, his gentle tone softening you instantly. “A dick.”

A small laugh escapes you, only because hearing him say that sounds so foreign coming from him.

“Its okay.”

“Really. I’m sorry, I wanted to but I –“you reach a hand out to him, placing it lightly on his thigh next to his own, and he stops talking.

“Its fine. Next time, stay though.”

“Next time?” he says, and you nearly get whiplash from how fast his demeanour changes. He moves the hand resting beside you to ever so slightly brush your opposite shoulder, giving you shivers.

“Mhmm” the warmth from the alcohol and his touch mix in your lower stomach, and you haven’t forgotten about the hand that currently rests on his thigh. You slide it upwards, only an inch, and his head drops to watch your movement. “Besides, there’s another reason I didn’t want you to leave so fast.”

You move it up again, just another inch, stretching your pinkie finger towards the top of his leg. His head shoots behind him, making sure no one is looking, and you take this opportunity to lean over to where you’re pretty sure his ear is, though your vision is slightly askew, and you end up just leaning your forehead on his helmet, and you forget what you were going to say as his arm drops around you, nearly pulling you onto his lap.

“Tell me. I want to hear it.” You swallow, trying to think back to five seconds ago when you had all that extra confidence. “Don’t get shy now. Tell me what you wanted to do.” This is a thing then. Who would have guessed the Mandalorian liked to talk?

“Am I interrupting something?” Greef says from the end of your table. Fucking hell. You cant catch a break. You slide back to your side of the booth, but the Mandalorian keeps his arm around you. “Just wanted to give you this, Mando. Think of it as a gift for your friend here.” The Mandalorian takes the tiny piece of metal you know to be a tracking fob.

Didn’t he already give him the four? The device lights up, showing the hologram of the bounty. Wait – you’ve seen this man before… but where?

“I thought you might recognise him.” Greef chuckles, snapping your attention to him. “Part of the crew that are responsible for your father’s untimely demise. Take it if you want, don’t if you don’t, but I had a feeling you might be the type interested in a little revenge.” You reach out to take the fob from the Mandalorian’s gloved hand, but he closes a fist and just shoves it in his bag.

“Were leaving.” He pulls you out of the booth, not even giving you a chance to ask any questions as Greefs figure disappears into the crowd of the cantina and you are pulled back into the city of Nevarro.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“No.”

“No? Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Just – I’m not telling you what to do. I’m trying to keep you from walking into a trap.” You had started arguing with him as soon as you left Greef Kargas cantina, and now, as you walk through the small market place, carrying two bags of fruit and packaged food, you are not going to give up now.

“A trap? Not because you already got your four bounties? Or is it because you don’t think I can-“you are suddenly pulled into a side alley, the Mandalorian’s chest pressing you into hard brick.

“Stop.” He commands and you listen. “Its not because I doubt that your capable, nor do I care how far away it is from the other trackers – which it is. But, I know Karga. Hes dirty, and he never does anything out of kindness. Giving this to me – to us, just proves that hes got something else at play.”

“How?” He doesn’t sigh like you expect, his patience with you never wearing thin, even when you would have snapped three arguments ago.

“Why give this to me now? In front of you? If he needed this guy in that bad, he would of gave it to me weeks ago. He knows I’m the best chance to bring them in, so why now?”

You consider this, and after a whole five seconds of reflection you know hes right.

“Because he wanted me to see it.” He nods, and releases you from his hold. “But why? He didn’t even know I was there until just before.”

“He must know who you are.” The rest of his sentence hangs in the air, because if he knew your father, and knows you, chances are he also knows about your connection to the Force. “We should get going.”

The Mandalorians concern for you makes you feel guilty instantly. Of course he’s right.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Its just - when he said that about my father, I never knew exactly what happened to him, why it happened. I guess I wanted to jump at the first sign of an answer. I should have let you handle it.” You remember your mother telling you your father was dead and getting on the first ship you could find and taking off, never looking back. Your exit was hasty, your mother shoving you off planet within the same conversation. You knew you had to leave, and she was worried they would come for you next, but it left a whole lot of questions unanswered.

“Its okay. I get why you would.” He looks out to the crowd of people passing by, and you see the sun setting in the distance.

“Do you think someone’s following us?” This is the second time you’ve caught him scanning the place, and for someone who’s usually observant without trying, it makes you worry about the fact that you left the kid in the ship alone.

“I don’t think so. We should go either way, we’ve got enough food to feed an army in there.” He flicks his head to the bags hung around his shoulders, and you look down at the ones your holding, remembering how fast you had to grab the small bag before he did so you could at least feel like you’re doing some of the lifting, him still carrying your backpack underneath the mountain of food.

“With the way your kid eats I wouldn’t be surprised if he chews a hole in the side of the ship by the time we get there.” He laughs, and you realise how much you missed the sound of it.

He leads you out of the alley, weaving his way through the crowd, a testament to how well he knows this city, not even having to look up to know when to turn.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It feels like you’ve walked for miles by the time the ship comes into view, the effects of the alcohol wearing off, the long walk doing your mind wonders. The Mandalorian scoops up the baby, who, halfway through his third serving of fruit, is starting to fall asleep while eating. He says something to him, and places him in the cot. Its only then that you realise how late it is, the only light streaming down from the open latch between the main hull and the cockpit, practically lighting a path.

With the kid safely tucked away, you hear the metallic clank of boots on the ladder, and you see a small flash as the helmet turns to look back at you, illuminating him.

“Come on. We should get a head start.”

“I thought you said no one was following us?

“Id rather not stick around to find out.”

You nod, and you can’t control how your feet skip slightly as they head to ascend the ladder.  Sliding through the small walkway you step into the cockpit, the Mandalorian already flicking switches and releasing levers, and when the ship pulls off, the motion sends you back into the chair with a soft thud.

You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of this, watching the night sky appear in front of you, surrounded by the tiny white lights coming from all directions. You used to dream of when you would be able to be in space again, not so much for the flying, but what it represented. The freedom to go wherever you wanted, and flying around from planet to planet while also getting to help a cute baby and his hot dad? Pretty much the closest to freedom you ever thought you’d get.

“Hes doing ok, right?” he tilts his head and takes his hands off the switchboard, having brought the ship to a cruising speed.

“Hes amazing. Seriously, what he did this morning usually takes at least a couple weeks of focus for a complete beginner. Took me even longer.”

“Really?” Of course, hes curious about it, its his kid. But the way his voice raises slightly, framing it more as a question makes you think he might be curious about you, too.

You nod before continuing. “Really. Hes gonna kick some serious Jedi ass when you find someone to take him on.” The thought of that inevitable end to your journey makes you sadder than you thought. You know it will come, and by the strength this kid has shown you in the past week, you wouldn’t be surprised if a Jedi walked through the door tomorrow.

“Thankyou. For helping him.” You resist the urge to laugh, only because of the sincerity in his tone. Has he forgotten why you’re here? If anything, you should be the one thanking him.

“it’s the least I can do, after -you know.”

“Shooting me.”

“It was more of a graze.” You meet his stare.

“And trying to steal from me.”

“Yeah. You get that one.” A deep laugh vibrates through the room, and you grin in response. “But really, I want to help. Hes great.” A small ‘hmm’ leaves him, and its clear he agrees, not just in his response but in all his behaviours you’ve observed between him and the baby. Always making sure hes eaten before him, bringing him everywhere he can, only leaving him on the ship when absolutely necessary. Even the way he speaks about him, you can tell there’s a strong bond between them, and that he genuinely cares. “Helping him has actually been helping me too, so I can’t take all the credit.”

“How so?” You take a deep breath before answering. Considering your previous conversations, it’s safe to say you can trust him, and seeing as you’re going to be flying all night, if hes not going to fill up that time with a particular kind of conversation, you might as well take a chance.

“The longer I went without using it – my connection faded. When we left Tatooine, what I had was barely a shadow of what I was able to do when I trained. Even being around him makes me better. Hes stronger than me too, even untrained. This last week I’ve felt stronger than I have in years.”

“Stronger than you?”

“Then I was when I started, definitely. I don’t know where you found him, but that kind of power doesn’t come without a seriously strong bloodline.” You realise you have no idea where he actually came from, but it’s the truth, nonetheless.

“He was a bounty, at first. I tracked him down on Arvarla-7. Couldn’t find it in myself to turn him in, and hes been with me ever since.” Of all the stories you had heard of the Mandalorian, you would never have guessed they had a soft spot for babies, and it sent a warmth straight through your body to think of him, ready to fight or kill whatever he found, only to come home with a tiny green infant in his bag. “He saved my life, too.”

“What?!” You nearly jump out of your chair, your exclamation shattering the calm energy of the dark room. He chuckles warmly, as if fond of the memory.

“I was trying to get an egg from a cave for the Jawas –“the memory of those grimy little dudes makes your skin crawl “- turns out it was a Mudhorn cave. I would have died if he hadn’t floated the thing into the air. Another second and it would have broken my armour and killed me.”

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly.” Your smiling, unsure if this is from the realisation of how much potential Grogu really has, or the fact that the Mandalorian finally opened up to you. “Don’t start using that against me.” He probably says this because he can see you trying to picture how a tiny little baby could take down a giant Mudhorn while he got his ass kicked. “It was huge.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was.”

He sits up slightly. “It was. Angry, too.”

“Mhmm.” You’re still smiling at him, almost smugly.

“Still killed it.” He mumbles and you bust out laughing. Not that you could say you would stand a chance against an animal that big, but his defensive words as he tried to prove his position did nothing but make you giggle.

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. You are happy here, you think, and you can only hope that you can make yourself useful for long enough that he doesn’t decide to kick you to the curb as soon as he finds an actual trainer. Your eyes are still closed, so you don’t notice until you finally open them that the Mandalorian now stands in front of you, somehow fitting in the small space left between the controls board and the end of your chair, the way your legs are folded underneath you providing just enough space.

“I want to show you something.” He says, offering you a hand, and when you take it, he pulls you, so the chair swings sideways, and then leads you out of the room. In the pitch black of the hallway, you think he must be taking you downstairs, but he instead turns to the right. You know there’s nothing there, the number of times you’ve come up and down the ladder all you’ve ever seen was a blank panel. “This is what I was doing. When I came up this morning.”

A door opens, and a tiny flickering light emerges from the dark. It doesn’t take any effort for him to lead you into the room, the door swinging shut softly behind.

----- 

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[mypoisonedvine]

peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18​'s 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.  

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in.  It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand.  “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry.  Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order.  “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly.  With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space.  If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you.  “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down.  Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book.  “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly.  “My presence tends to have that effect on people.  Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book.  “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly.  “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted.  “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again.  “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that.  She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language.  He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.  

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler.  It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window.  He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have’ obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice.  You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.  

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any.  It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.  

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him.  "Why don't you just give me a chance?  Don't you wanna be popular?" 

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid.  "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little.  "Are we still on that, really?  I told you, you should take it as a compliment.  You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are.  You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever.  "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer.  “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you.  “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go.  Okay?  That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further.  “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed.  “Then you can leave.  Hey, you might actually like it.  You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it!  When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level.  Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening.  “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper.  “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this.  A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged.  For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger.  For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss.  You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.  

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him.  But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality.  With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.  “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously.  “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too?  We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream.  “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley.  Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled.  “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act.  I know you want me.  So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay?  You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose.  But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter.  "You and this perfect body of yours.  This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred.  “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right?  You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly.  “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps.  The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally.  He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them.  “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind.  You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin.  Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly.  “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh?  You need it that bad?  You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch.  Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again.  He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too.  “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly.  You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore.  But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him.  It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off.  Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.  For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.  

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster.  “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now.  Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses.  “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect.  I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised.  He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly.  “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."