#i think they could be useful to others if they were to ever create a partially deaf character or make a character from something hoh

[gffa]

I'm going to climb up on a new hill to die on: I THINK PALPATINE'S PLAGUEIS STORY IS 100% MADE UP BULLSHIT. If you discount supplementary material created by other authors, the only thing we know about Plagueis is that speech Palpatine gives at the bubble opera, one we already know is designed to manipulate Anakin, but watching Revenge of the Sith in the theater again, thinking about how Anakin will later parrot Palpatine's words exactly--I realized, oh, it's not just a story being used to manipulate Anakin, I think it's a story created to manipulate Anakin, right where Palpatine wants him. It's a story about a Sith lord who learns how to make people stop dying. A Sith Lord who wants to stop his loved ones from dying. We know Palpatine doesn't actually know how to do this--the movie seems to imply that Palpatine was Plagueis' apprentice, but I'm not so sure. Palpatine says that Plagueis taught his apprentice everything--which would include the saving people bit--but Palpatine doesn't know how to save people, he says that he and Vader will discover it together and Anakin doesn't go, "Hey, wait, I thought you were supposed to know this!", which throws unreliability onto Palpatine's story already. There's a lot Palpatine is doing in this movie to manipulate Anakin very specifically--he puts Anakin on the Council, knowing they will ask him to spy on the Chancellor and even "guesses" it before Anakin can say anything at the opera, that he suggests Anakin should be the one to go to Utapau knowing that the Council will vote for a more experienced Master, he reveals himself to Anakin knowing that Anakin will tell them and be forced to choose, he tells Anakin the Plagueis story knowing that Anakin fears Padme's death (he is likely aware of Anakin's emotions about this, being an evil psychic space wizard himself) and sets it up so that it's the perfect bait. The conversation in ROTS goes:

Palpatine: "Remember back to your early teachings. All who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi." Anakin: "The Jedi use their power for good." Palpatine: "Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way... including their quest for greater power." Anakin: "The Sith rely on their passion for their strength. They think inwards- only about themselves." Palpatine: "And the Jedi don't?" Anakin: "The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others." Palpatine: "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise? I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a dark lord of the Sith... so powerful and so wise... he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians... to create... life. He had such a knowledge of the dark side... he could even keep the ones he cared about... from dying." Anakin: "He could actually... save people from death?" Palpatine: The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities... some consider to be unnatural." Anakin: "What happened to him?" Palpatine: "He became so powerful... the only thing he was afraid of was... Iosing his power. Which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. It's ironic. He could save others from death... but not himself." Anakin: "Is it possible to learn this power?" Palpatine: "Not from a Jedi."

This entire conversation is a set-up to make Anakin think that it's not selfish to change his views, because it's just exactly as Anakin says the Jedi are selfless and only care about others that he starts the Plagueis story about this legendary Sith who just cared so much about his loved ones that he learned how to stop them from dying. But, oh, he couldn't stop himself from dying, he was only thinking of others! Not himself! Throughout the movie Palpatine is manipulating Anakin's thoughts so that Anakin will think in exactly the lines of thought that Sidious wants him to. ("Good is a point of view, Anakin." --> "From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!", "You know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Council. If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will." --> "I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over!" Etc.) So when he wants Anakin to really consider using the dark side, he tells him a story about this mysterious Sith Lord who just wanted to save his loved ones, not himself, just those he cared about. It's the perfect way to give Anakin an excuse to take that first step that doesn't seem so bad, so against everything he knows is right, and think that it's okay if it's for someone else. It's not because he's so scared to lose someone he loves that he'll make a deal with the devil, no, he's just thinking of others, the ones he loves. The story is so perfectly designed to appeal to Anakin at this moment in time and so incongruent with everything else we know about Sith Lords and how the dark side works (the dark side is not a path to anything good), that I think it's 100% made up bullshit, just like everything Palpatine says to Anakin in this movie is a set-up to direct Anakin's thoughts where he wants them.

[seat-safety-switch]

At the university where I work, there's all kinds of amazing research projects going on. As part of the public service requirement of my extensively-negotiated parole, I am forced to help with whoever needs it. I've rounded up test monkeys, convinced sobbing grad students not to abandon their field of study, and made coffee for a bunch of MBAs theorizing about how to create even bigger layoffs than their grandfathers could ever have dreamt of. And also there's some nerds with computers.

Robots, while not as cool as they once were, are still being developed every day. We've forgotten how to make all kinds of shit, but we can still follow the instruction manual to make the robots that remember how to make that shit. Which is good, because otherwise we wouldn't have any cars, or refrigerators, or the small island nation of New Zealand. Computer scientists are busy figuring out how to make those robots walk up and down stairs, which is a problem that has evaded them since the beginning of time.

You might not think it's particularly useful to be able to go up and down stairs. I certainly didn't, but it turns out that some important things are available on other floors of a building. The nerds were having a lot of trouble making the robot do it, until I pointed out that the building is equipped with an elevator. Much forehead-slapping ensued, and we went out and got completely sloshed at the campus bar, relieved to finally have solved one of the remaining hard problems of computer science. Unfortunately, in our rush to imbibe, we left the robot turned on. When we got back, it was gone.

What I'm trying to tell you is that if you live in a regular house, you're gonna want to sleep on the second floor. Or in the basement. Anywhere except for the ground floor. We don't think the robot can really harm anybody, that's an awful stereotype of runaway robots, but we do suspect it's running a bit low on charge and will do whatever it takes to suck up some of that sweet, sweet juice. So if you look out your window this morning, and see that someone has spontaneously assembled most of the macrostructure of New Zealand on your front lawn, call us right away, and also hide all of those cheap AliExpress chargers that look like USB-C but won't charge your laptop. Those'll just make it angry.

[chaoticdreamersthings]

Glimpse of us

!!!!WARNING! RPF FICTION BELOW!!!!

Pairing: Joost x fem Reader

Description: You and Joost used to date, but the relationship ended - badly. You hooked up a few times after the breakup, but then he ghosted you. You realize you might be a little more in love than he is.

Author's note: Writing this i was inspired by my own toxic ex, and it was very hard to find a pic that fit... Joost just doesn't look as a toxic ex at all. Every pic gives off labrador boyfriend energy. This and the second part will be very introspective so prepare for that!

Warnings: alcohol, angst, kinda asshole Joost?

Word Count: 5,6 k

Part: 1/4

You open the window and let the summer air spill in. For the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels… okay. 

Yesterday marked something small but huge: you didn’t cry. You didn’t even lie down and think about everything you have lost. You didn’t spend hours second-guessing your decision, and that was a huge step. 

You breathe in deeply, and head to the kitchen to get some breakfast. 

Still, somewhere deep inside, you know this peace is fragile. Maybe it’s only here because he’s on tour busy enough to forget you - or at least too far away to reach you, sleeping in a different city every night. He had that habit - only loving you when you’re physically there. 

You shouldn’t worry about this now. You’ve been doing so well not letting you mind go that way. You can keep it that way. Just stay in this morning, without letting him take up any more space.  Maybe, day by day, it will get better and that history between the two of you will be just a blurred memory from the past, and you will be the same person you were before all of this mess happened. You smile a little as you pull things from the fridge. There’s still a long way to go to, you know that. But everything is slowly falling into place. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that the universe might have a plan for you. A good plan. 

You even started making small adjustments - stepping back into life, meeting new people, letting go a little and maybe - just maybe - there’s someone out there who could make you forget about Joost. 

The doubts still creep in anyway. They always do. You spent so long convincing yourself he was it. The one. No one would ever come close. And even now, it’s hard to imagine anyone making you feel the way he did. But you push the doubts away. It will never change if you don’t at least give it a chance. 

Besides, everything that happened between you and Joost should have closed that door completely. After all the things you said to each other, all the fights, the screaming, the nights you wished you’d never met him - there’s no way back.

There was never a guy that made you feel so good. But there was never a guy that made you feel so bad either. 

And you know - you know - the only word for it is toxic.

You shake the thoughts from your head. It’s a pattern you know too well - the constant analyzing of every moment, every feeling, as if it could somehow save you. You’ve always struggled to just let it be - to let life flow without dissecting every possible outcome your choices might create.

Your phone vibrates.

Clara: “Ready for today? :)”

You take a glance on your phone and smile to yourself. When Clara and the other girls told you about the rooftop party, you knew right away - this could be it. A “launch” party for your new life. 

And to your surprise, you feel absolutely ready for that. 

Maybe it’s genuine. Or maybe you just miss the rush - adrenaline that the highs and lows of your relationship with Joost used to bring. 

Either way, you don’t want to open that door. Not now. Not today.

You type out a quick reply - Yes, absolutely - and set your phone down beside your fresh breakfast. You already know what you are going to wear tonight, and you can hardly wait for your friends to come over for pre-drinks, just as you agreed. 

You used to love nights out. But somewhere along the way - between the mess of your love life and chaos of everything changing - staying at home started to feel safer.

At home there were no uncomfortable questions to answer, no chance of running into Joost’s friends, and most importantly - no drunk texts sent at 2 a.m. that would ruin your life for weeks afterward. 

But you knew you couldn’t hide forever. Being alone was a straight road to overthinking.

This time, though, it’s going to be different. 

You can feel it.

*

“The party is here” - those are the first words you hear from Clara’s mouth as you open the front door to see her. Her grin wide and infectious.

The party is, in fact, here. You can’t deny that that she is the heart and soul of the party. 

"The party is late, as always” - you tease, smiling as you kiss her on the cheek.

You didn’t expect anything different - she’s always late, which drives all of your dutch friends crazy. The other two friends of yours are already there, sitting on the couch and drinking cocktails. 

You both head back to the living room and you make her a drink without even asking what she wants. You know her that well.

“So, looking forward to anything special today, ladies?” - she asks. 

This woman never wastes time. You’re pretty sure she’s the one with something special on her mind - probably the real reason she even started the conversation. And you’re eager to hear the details.

Your other friend, Victoria starts talking about a guy that she met through a dating app. They’ve already gone on a few dates and he mentioned he’ll probably be at the party tonight. For now, he made a good impression and she says she has a good feeling about him. 

You wonder if you will ever be able to meet someone new without the urge to constantly compare him to Joost. 

You are on the right path, right? You’re getting there - and today it is a big step. You might not be completely over it, but hey, who is? And what’s a better way to get over someone than to meet someone new?

Seven months have passed since you two broke up, but it’s only been less than two months since the last time you saw him. After a night together, you were the one to message him, but he never replied. 

The time between the breakup and then going fully no-contact was the most intense and difficult time of your life. You both decided that it was for the best to end It - the constant fighting, the inability to meet each other’s needs. But you never really stopped having feeling for each other. 

At least you never stopped having feelings for him. His mind was a big puzzle you could never solve. You spent so many sleepless nights wondering: Did he truly care about you? Was he ready to be with you? Or was he just playing with you, keeping you close, knowing you were completely in love with him? 

Even now, you still don’t know the answer.

“What about Joost? Did he stop writing you?” - Clara asks you, her eyes piercing through you. You can’t lie - she has this weird way of seeing through you, peeling away everything you’ve tried to keep hidden.

“Yeah… He’s on tour, I guess. I don’t know. I am trying to think about it less.” - you answer, your voice calmer than you’d expect. 

You leave out the part where you were the one to reach out last, sending that message that never got answered. Really, the question should be whether you stopped writing him - but Clara doesn’t need to know that.

The silence from him that day… it sent you into a spiral. A whole day in bed, crying, overwhelmed by the fear of losing him for good and the shame of still longing for someone who clearly wasn’t as invested.

She doesn’t have to know that either. At the end of the day, you tell yourself - it’s not a lie. You’re just not saying the whole truth. 

“Good choice” - she smiles. 

She can see on your face that you are not really in the mood to talk about it, and you know she absolutely agrees. She’s told you a billion times that he should stay in the past. 

You spent enough time venting about him to her and your other friends. You know their advice by heart: break up with him, go no contact, do everything you can to forget him and start a new life. 

But they do not know the way he knows your body - how he is able to drive you to the edge and make you feel like nobody else ever has. They don’t know the deep conversations at 3 a.m., the way he could make you open and talk about things you never thought you could say out loud, they don’t know your inside jokes, they don’t know how you understand each other without words.

But they do know the other side - the crying, the breakdowns, the way you felt like you were losing your mind from the mixed signals, the sudden silences, the way he pushed you away over nothing whenever his insecurities got the better of him.

It was too much. When it was good it was really good. But when it was bad… it was unbearable. Maybe you two were just never meant to fit - his mood swings, your sensitivity, crashing into each other over and over. 

Oh, but you wanted him to be the one so badly. 

You know how toxic your thinking is, but you can’t help it, he is a drug, but he’s your favorite drug.

The drug you’re quitting - you remind yourself, pulling your thoughts back before they spiral too far.

“So, mission for tonight: find a nice guy for Y/N.” Vitoria says as the others nod in agreement.

“Calm down, girls… I am not saying no, but I don’t want to force anything.” You laugh. “You know it usually doesn’t end well when you try to hard. Besides, I’m still pretty hurt and cautious after the last… relationship. So, no rush”

You take a few sips of the cocktail, and fix your hair, glancing at the clock. It’s getting late and you should be heading out soon. You feel a wave of excitement - one you haven't felt in a long time. You have a feeling that something good might happen tonight, and honestly, you are all in for it.

You spend the next hour drinking, and laughing, Clara is telling a story of the DJ at the party she likes and she can’t wait to see, and Lena talking about the vacation she just took with her boyfriend. 

God, you’re lucky. Lucky to have friends like this - girls who are supportive, who listen without judgement, even when you were losing your mind over Joost. 

You know you could just as easily go to dinner, visit an art gallery, catch a concert but or have a drunken night in the club with them - and they would still be right there, no questions asked. Your friends are real ride-or-dies, and whatever happens, you know they are here to stay. 

You finally order an Uber, and you all head to the location together. To your relief, the weather is perfect - no rain, no wind. You’d been worried, as always in Amsterdam, that the rain and the cold might ruin the party, leaving you either stuck at home or scrambling last-minute to find another club you don’t even like, wasting your time and money. But tonight, the universe seems to be on your side.

The guards at the door let you in without a problem, and you ride the elevator up. 

The place looks amazing - small lights everywhere, casting a soft glow over everything. The Amsterdam skyline glimmers in the night - familiar rooftops, canals and narrow streets wrapped in the city light.

A large group is already dancing in the middle of the dance floor, while smaller groups gather around high, white tables, sipping cocktails and laughing. It feels like a party out of a movie, and you’re so glad you didn’t talk yourself out of coming.

“Come on, let’s get a drink” Lena says, tugging you toward the bar, and you follow. 

The tall guys at the bar glance your way, a few holding their gaze a little longer than necessary - and you’re really glad you decided to dress up tonight. Everyone looks so stylish - it feels like they organized a meet up for the most attractive people in the city. 

You look around, and spot at least a few guys who catch your eye. You also glance toward the dj, curious if he’s as cute as Clara promised. He isn’t exactly your type, but you can definitely see what she sees in him.

You lean against the side of the bar, sipping your whiskey sour, while your friends are still waiting for their drinks - when a tall guy steps toward you. 

"Hey, sorry to interrupt - I just wanted to tell you that you look absolutely stunning.” - he says, and you turn your head to look at him.

He’s tall with light brown hair and green eyes. His smile is infectious. 

There’s something boyish about him - maybe it’s the way he’s dressed, a little casual for the crowd - but it’s charming, not sloppy. You find yourself smiling back without even thinking. He’s pretty cute. And it’s just a conversation, you remind yourself. A first step toward moving on.

“Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself.” - you say, leaning in so he can hear you over the loud music.

“Do you live here in Amsterdam?” he asks quickly, and you can tell your answer gave him a little boost of courage. Good. He seems like a decent guy - and most importantly, he doesn’t give you the instant creep vibes.

You tell him, with a smile that yes, you live here now - though you originally came for a student exchange a few years ago and ended up loving the city too much to leave.

You leave out the part about Joost - the real reason you decided to stay after falling in love with him, figuring it’s probably not the best idea to bring up an ex in the first conversation. 

He goes on to tell you that he’s from the Netherlands, but from a smaller city. He moved to Amsterdam to work in the entertainment industry and he’s enjoying it so far. There’s something easy about talking to him. He seems nice, easygoing, and - most importantly - not weird at all, which helps you loosen up a little. Even if you never never see this guy again, it’s a step in the right direction. You feel proud of yourself. 

“Did you come here alone?” - you ask, a little surprised by the lack of company. 

As much as you were enjoying talking to him, you also wanted to spend the night with your girlfriends.

“No” he smiles “Well… kind of. I came alone but I’m waiting for my friends - they should be here any minute…” he glances over your shoulder. “Actually… I think that’s them now.” 

He waves his hand toward the entrance and you turn around, curious if his friends are as cute as he is - maybe you could introduce them to your girls. 

You freeze. It’s as if your body forgets how to move, how to breathe. There he is. Blonde hair in that perfectly messy way, dark t-shirt, black jeans, glasses. You would recognize him anywhere - in the biggest crowd, in a dream, in a memory you don’t even want anymore. You see his face in half of the guys you pass on the street. But none of them are him.

And now, he’s here. Laughing at something his friend says, his laugh is so heartbreakingly familiar it makes your stomach twist. You, on the other hand, are the last person who feels like laughing. Your knees go weak, your eyes widen. 

How?

How is it possible that the second you try to move on, to have one night where he isn’t clinging into your every thought - he appears? It’s like he has a radar, always sensing the exact moment you might finally be okay. 

He turns his head and waves toward the guy you’re talking to - but then he sees you. His smile fades, and his eyes widen in shock. He definitely didn’t expect to see you either. 

You think about running, but it is too late. And even if you tried, your legs are heavy as stone. You see his face shift -  quickly covering up the reaction, pretending you haven’t shaken him. You try to fix your own face too, but you can feel the panic sticking to you, like heat on a summer day. It feels like it’s 200 degrees in here, and you are burning alive. 

“So… You didn’t tell me your name” the green-eyed guy says, turning to you - and for a second  you forget how to speak. He must sense your emotions, because he looks at you with a touch of concern. You shake your head quickly, and say:

“Y/N” You try to smile, but you know it’s not convincing. You bite the inside of your cheek. Why did you come here? Why did you ever think you were ready for this? 

“So guys, this is Y/N” he says, still cheerful, as he turns toward his friends. "And these are…”

“We met before” Joost cuts in, his voice low. His voice is cool, but you can feel the weight of his stare pressing down on you.

You keep your eyes fixed anywhere but on him. You know what you’ll find if you look. All those feelings you tried so hard to bury start clawing their way back to the surface, raw and intense. One look, and you’ll break. You haven’t forgotten. You haven’t forgotten, even for a second, that he left your last message hanging in silence.

“Oh really? Where? You didn’t tell me you have such beautiful friends” the green-eyes guy says, nudging Joost lightly.

You almost groan at his words. Perfect. Just perfect. You can already picture Joost throwing that sentence back in your face during the fight you know is inevitable. 

Who were you trying to fool? You’re not over him, not even close. The way your whole body reacted at just seeing him tonight was proof enough. You glance at Joost, silently begging him with your eyes not to make a scene, not to say something that will set everything on fire. You feel dangerously close to crying now. The pressure behind your eyes, the tightness in your throat.

Joost looks at you for a long second, something unreadable flashing across his face. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it terrifies you. Finally, he says:

“She’s an old friend of mine” his voice casual, a little too casual for your liking.

The word friend cuts through your skin like a knife, but you know there was nothing else he could have said in that moment. But it sill feels like betrayal. Your legs feel heavy, and you start desperately searching for an excuse to leave, to run away from this nightmare, but the shock of him being here doesn’t help - you can’t think straight.

“Sorry guys, we need her” - you hear Clara’s voice, and then you feel her hands gripping your shoulders, steering you away from the group. “It’s an emergency!” She calls back, as the others - everyone except Joost - look after you in confusion. 

Her fingers dig into your skin, grounding you, pulling you back to yourself.  

“Jesus fucking Christ” she whispers under her breath as you hurry across the rooftop. 

The bathroom is packed, so instead she guides you toward an empty table tucked away on the side, where the music is softer and you can actually breathe again.

“What the HELL was that?” She says, her voice sharp. “Did you know he was going to be there?” Her accusatory tone needles at you, and you’re pretty sure she’s about to drill holes through your arms with her fingers.

“Do i LOOK like I knew?” you snap back, louder than you mean to. “Do you think I would’ve been standing there talking to that guy if I had any idea?” 

You run your fingers through your hair, trying to calm yourself down, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

“I don’t know how the hell this keeps happening. It’s like he has some fucking radar or something. Every time I start to think I deserve better, every time I try to move on, he shows up. Wasn’t he supposed to be on tour or something?” 

The anger starts rising in you - but so does the disappointment. 

And as usual, disappointment wins.

You’re angry at yourself for still caring, for still reacting that way. But worse than the anger is that tiny, pathetic hope inside you, still craving his attention. You still wanted him to chase you. You still wanted him to choose you. And you hate yourself for it. 

“Let’s just go home.” You say finally, exhausted and defeated.

“No, Y/N. No way. We are NOT doing that. You can’t just keep running away. You’re not a coward. You’re not.” she gives your arms a small shake and stares right into your eyes, willing you to believe her. "Just go back there and ignore him. Act like he doesn’t even exist. I saw you tonight - you were happy, ready for something new. Don’t let him take that away from you. Please. You’re so much better than that.” 

You know she is right. You really do. But you also know yourself - and the combination of Joost, a party and alcohol has never, ever ended well for you. 

Still, the girls had been looking forward for this night for so long. You don’t want to be the one who ruins it, who makes everything about you again. 

“Okay. You’re right. I’ll stay” you say, your voice a little unconvincing, but you mean it - or at least you want to. 

Clara grabs your hand and squeezes it. 

“Are you ready to go back?”

You aren’t ready, but you know you’ll never be, so you nod. You glance at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, reapplying a bit of lip gloss, and let Clara take your hand. She leads you through the thick crowd on the dance floor, the music pulsing through your chest.

“I know exactly what you need” she says when you reach the bar.

But before you can answer a voice cuts through the silence, hitting a nerve and reopening every wound.

“Clara. Long time no see” 

He’s there - casually leaning against the bar like he owns the place. He’s speaking to Clara, but his gaze flickers past her, straight to you. You immediately turn away, refusing to meet his eyes. You know what he is doing. This was always his game - trying to reel you back in, whether it ended in a fight or in his bed. You focus on the bar, the glasses, the endless flicker of lights, pretending he isn’t there, pretending you don’t still crave the smallest scrap of his attention.

“Yeah” Clara snaps. “Let’s not change that.” 

Joost chuckles under his breath - low, amused - but you see the flicker of irritation cross his face.

“Woah, no need to be so harsh with me”

“I’m here with my friends, we’re having a girls’ night. Can you give us that?” She says, turning fully to him, staring him down. “And if you’re going to talk to me, look at me. No need to look at her.” she tilts her head subtly toward you.

You stay silent, watching the scene unfold. Part of you feels Clara might be coming down a little too hard - after all he didn’t cheat, he didn’t lie. It wasn’t a clear villain story. You know the mess between you two had blame on both sides. But deep down you also know you fought for him - you tried. 

And he didn’t. So maybe, just maybe, he deserves every part of that coldness now.

"Fine. She’ll text me later anyway” he shrugs, and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

You sigh, frustrated with his behavior. Classic Joost - feeling uncomfortable, rejected, so he throws something provocative and hurtful flipping the shame onto you instead of just leaving with dignity. 

You will write him anyway? What is that supposed to mean? 

Except, you know exactly what that’s supposed to mean - and worse, you know he’s not wrong. Because you have written to him - countless times, late at night, drunk or brokenhearted, begging him to come and see you. And he did - almost every time. And you did the same.

You remember it all too well: sometimes it was a text at midnight, sometimes a call at two a.m. - and you without thinking, throwing a hoodie over your pajamas, sneaking out into the night. You were desperate to feel him, even if only for a few hours. For a little while it felt perfect - like nothing bad had ever happened between you. There were sweet words, whispered promises, nights where you almost believed it could work. 

But it always unraveled by morning - swearing, fighting and accusations. Still, even if it ended in pieces, you kept choosing the few hours with him over the endless emptiness without him. You never hated the heartbreak as much as you hated the silence.

Joost walks away, and you sigh again. You keep telling yourself it’s okay - you can handle it, you can just ignore him. But with every glance in his direction, with every word he throws into the air, it feels like it’s getting worse, not better.

“Are you ok?” Clara asks, slipping her arm protectively around your shoulders. "Maybe I was a little too harsh, but we can’t have him thinking that he can just walk back into your life… again… Come on, Y/N. You can’t let him treat you like that. He shouldn’t be speaking to you like that - no matter what happened between you two.” Then she turns to the bartender, lifting four fingers. “Four tequila shots please”

“Four?” You blink at her, half-laughing “Are you trying to kill me?” 

You know that Joost and alcohol in one place is a dangerous cocktail. But then again, without alcohol, this whole night might become unbearable. 

You watch as the bartender lines up four small shot glasses, putting a slice of lemon on top of each one. The thoughts are boiling inside your head, and you pray that tequila will help you ease your mind - or at least steer your thoughts somewhere more pleasant.

You move to the dance floor. Lena and Victoria join you, one of them pulling along with the guy she had been talking about earlier. You try to loosen up, let the music carry you, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. 

Your eyes keep scanning the crowd again and again, searching for that familiar messy blonde hair. You spot him a few times - always surrounded by his friends, laughing, drinking.  At least, you think, he hasn’t caught you staring yet. You’re thankful that he didn’t show up with a girl… or hasn’t found one yet. You know that if you saw his hands on someone else, it would feel like a knife twisting inside your heart. 

You don’t even know if he’s been with other women since you two parted ways. You don’t want to think about it, because the mere thought of him having sex with someone else makes you feel like ripping your heart out.

"Stop thinking about him” Clara says in your ear, her voice full of concern.

If only it were that simple. You’ve been trying for the last few months, with absolutely no success.

“I’m going to the bathroom” you reply.

None of the girls follow you, and you hurry to the bathroom, but halfway there, you realize what you really need is a moment to gather your thoughts. You turn instead toward the smokers’ area - where the music fades into a distant hum and you can finally breathe. 

You don’t smoke, not really, but part of you considers asking someone for a cigarette. Maybe it would help to settle your nerves.

For now, you stand alone, gazing over the city. The cold brushes against your skin as you take in the Amsterdam skyline, trying to recognize familiar roofs. The sky is already soft with grey - the kind that signals dawn is just moments away. Summer nights here are short in this city.

The quiet is comforting. For a moment, the chaos in your head begins to settle. 

“So i was gone for two months, and you are already hitting on my friend?” You hear a voice behind you and you nearly choke. You hadn’t even notice him approach. 

You turn around and meet his gaze, and the words catch in your throat. You try to stay calm.

“I did not hit on him. And not that it’s any of your business” you aim for a harsh tone, trying to sound determined, but you know the words are shaky. He’ll notice it - the vulnerability you’re trying so hard to bury.

“It’s not?” His voice smooth, almost too calm, as he stays behind you, and you can feel the tension building between you. “I’m not sharing you with anyone” he adds, his fingers brushing lightly against your elbow. 

You quickly pull your arm away and turn to face him, the words hanging between you.

It’s sick and twisted, but you can’t deny it - your heart races when he says that. The possessiveness in his voice turns you on. God, how pathetic. How could you still feel this way after everything? At least he can’t hear the thoughts running through your mind. 

“You’re not sharing me with anyone because I’m not yours” you say, looking him in the eyes.

You feel your heart beating like crazy. Why does he always have this effect on you? How does he do it, every single time, without even trying?

“Is that so?” His voice is low, his face is just inches away, his eyes locked on yours. You want to look away, break the connection, but somehow you hold firm. Despite everything - the anger, the resentment, the betrayal - there’s something else simmering underneath it all. The sexual tension between you two is undeniable. 

You hate him. But, God, You want him.

If only it was simpler, if only he wasn’t so complicated, maybe you could just give in, without a heartache. You know the pleasure he’s capable of giving you, and part of you wants to let go and surrender completely. But you don’t.

“Yes.” You answer, and then without another word you turn and walk away, pushing your way through the crowd. You forget about the bathroom, forget about everything except the need to get away from him.

The only thing on your mind is reaching the bar - the only place that feels like an escape, even if it’s just for a moment. 

Why can’t it ever go your way, just once? Why can’t the universe cut you a break and let you forget about him just for a second? Are you cursed, destined to drown in this toxic love that’s already taken so much from you? Why does he always show up, even when he’s the last person you want to see? 

“Y/N” - you hear Clara’s voice. “I was looking for you” the moment she sees your face, she knows something is wrong. “That motherfucker. What did he say this time?”

You swallow, trying to push down the feelings. You just want to pretend that he didn’t get under your skin again.

“It’s nothing. He didn’t do anything.” That is not entirely true. But you don’t want to burden her with the truth - not yet, anyway.

"Don’t you DARE leave with him tonight.” She says firmly, locking eyes with you. She grabs your wrist tightly. "And I mean it. You’ve made so much progress, you’re feeling better, you can’t throw all of that away!” She studies your face and already sees it - the hesitation, the weakness. “I know you love him. Believe me, i do. I see it in the way you your eyes flicker when you look at him, or when you say his name. I don’t think he is a bad person either. I know he’s been though a lot, I know sometimes he doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you. And yeah… I know he loves you too. But how many times are you going to put yourself through this? You can’t live like this. Always scared. Always waiting for the moment he’ll leave or disappear for days, or decide to break up with you and then change his mind like nothing happened.” She squeezes your hands. “That sex? It’s not worth it. Even that love is not worth it. Please… just once, choose yourself, not him.”

You are nodding all the time while she is speaking. You know all of it, and you agree with every word she says. And tin that moment, you make a choice - you won’t fall back into that cycle - not again. As much as you want to, as much as you BOTH want to, you know it doesn’t lead anywhere. It doesn’t have a future. And you promised yourself - you don’t want anything anymore that doesn’t have a future.

[rc-catalog]

It's that time again—our Creator of the Month event is back in full swing!

Our April Creator of the Month is @cursedbycain! 🎉 Please join us in giving a big round of applause to Aditi for her incredible creativity and contributions—this spotlight is so well deserved! 🌟 To help you get to know her better, we’ve put together a short interview where she shares a little bit about herself and her work ✨! Welcome to the COTM hall of fame, Aditi! We’re so excited to celebrate you this month and beyond! 🫶

💬 1) INTRODUCE YOURSELF! Tell us a little bit about who you are—not just your name, but what inspires you, what you love, and how you would describe yourself beyond your creations !!

🎤: I’m Aditi! I’m in my 20’s and I’m Indian Canadian! I am a chronic gym rat and probably the most annoying morning person you will ever meet. I love all things makeup/fashion/skincare and of course, Cain is basically the loml, despite being a blonde. My main inspiration is of course my loves Elle and Agatha (@kazu-naito and @agattthaa respectively). I make a lot of things either for them or because of them and I could probably talk about them forever so I’ll cut myself off here! There isn’t much else to know about me, pretty much all I do is gym, study, write, and clean. My friends like to refer to me as “insane” but i prefer “organized” so if that doesn’t sum it up, I’m not sure what will.

💬 2) WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB? What drew you in, and what made you stay? Were there particular characters, stories, or moments that left a mark on you?

🎤: So my first interactive romance game was actually the Love Island game, and because of my interest in that subreddit, Reddit suggested the Romance Club sub! So I downloaded the app, started a story, instantly disliked the artstyle, and then forgot about it for a month! Then I tried it again and started with KFS for the Indian culture, fell absolutely HEAD over heels for Ram, and I was hooked! Funnily enough, I started playing during a diamond rush and thought the free diamond choices was some crazy glitch. But finding out that they have these events was so incredible that I couldn’t stop playing.

💬 3) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? Can be both RC related and in general! what first sparked your passion for it? Think back: when did you realize you wanted to create—whether it was writing, art, or something else?

🎤: In general—we’re coming up on probably 6 or 7 years? I have ALWAYS loved reading and when I discovered fanfic and how much I loved reading fics, I started to constantly come up with ideas and send them to people in asks (this has not changed) and eventually I would think—well instead of sending requests for other people to write things…why don’t I just write it myself? And then I did! I’ve been writing on and off since then, for various fandoms and people and I’ve always loved the outlet it gives me! For RC—I am quite new to the fandom in all honestly, I started playing right around the Feb update and I didn’t start making content until late March/beginning of April! I love participating in fandoms and this one is a bit smaller than I am used to, which meant not nearly enough fics to satisfy my insane urges, so I figured I would write some!! So technically I’ve been creating for a month but wow, it feels so much longer.

💬 4) DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION? Again, can be RC related or in general! What was it, how did it feel to bring it to life, and looking back now, how do you feel about it?

🎤: I have a vague memory of my first fic, but it is so horrible that I’m gonna talk about my first RC creation instead! I started with a CainLane fic (who could’ve guessed) after yapping in Elle’s inbox about them for a month! I sent her an anon about the idea around the end of March, and then I wrote it! It was basically a fic about Lane being trapped in Baal’s domain and her small interactions with Cain! It was a random idea that came to me, and writing it was actually really satisfying! Characterizing Cain was slightly challenging since it was my first time writing him, and I hate writing things that are OOC, but after some satisfying workshopping, it turned out quite nicely! I hadn’t written fanfiction in about a year, and it shows in that fic, but honestly I still like the way it turned out!

💬 5) IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER CREATIVE SELF? Or readers in general?

🎤: This is gonna sound so cheesy, but have fun!! I used to literally burn myself out trying to stick to scheduled fic postings and crazy challenges, and writing would almost feel like a chore? Don’t let that happen to you. Above all, creating should make YOU happy. Even if something gets no notes, if you’re proud of it and creating it made you feel good, it’s a win. Everytime my friends mention their “flops” (oh yeah I’m calling you out) I wanna shake them because it really does not matter! NEVER let that kind of stuff discourage you. Focus on creating things that fulfill YOU and not others, because as wonderful as external validation feels, internal validation is so much more important.

💬 6) CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY! We want all the behind-the-scenes thoughts: What do these pieces mean to you? What inspired them? Were there any struggles you faced while creating them? What emotions or memories are tied to them now?

🎤: Giving me permission to yap is so dangerous of you guys, alright lets do this! In no particular order:

Haircut - Cain x Lane — This fic holds a very special place in my heart because domestic fics are my absolute favourite. I also consider this to be my first proper CainLane fic since it’s in third person and more in character. Like many of my fics, it was inspired by something Elle said about how hilariously well groomed they are in HSR. It was such a funny idea, giving an immortal angel a haircut in the middle of a literal apocalypse that I just really wanted to bring it to life! Sometimes I find it hard to characterize Lane in relaxed moments like this, since the poor girl is always so stressed but it fell into place quite well! I also LOVE to incorporate found family moments of the squad into my fic and I pictured the ending of this one a lot. This fic is still so comforting to me and I honestly love it.

Rooftop - Cain x Lane — You know, you might as well call this interview an ode to Elle with the way she’s inspired all of my stuff. Once again, this is all her doing. I was halfway through my treadmill routine when I checked tumblr and saw her message and damn near fell off. No good morning message, just “lol, imagine lane finds cain crying alone and he immediately puts the mask back on when he notices”. There was nothing funny about this, I cannot believe she started this with lol. Anyways, I had already been left wanting by the rooftop scene in the update (seriously, we couldn’t get a kiss or something?), so I figured I would, in fact, write the loml crying because well, everyone needs a good cry. This was my first time writing Cain being vulnerable, and it took some workshopping. He’s such a guarded character, and crying felt almost OOC for him, so I wanted to make it feel right, which I think I managed! This one really does mean a lot to me. I really enjoy writing vulnerable moments like this, especially with Cain. As Agatha likes to say, he’s just a doll Elle likes to poke and I have joined her in said poking.

Eternity - Cain x Lane — Okay this is just embarrassing now uh this is ALSO inspired by Elle. She told me to make him cry again and I said “well, give me a reason” and she did, and I wrote it in less than two days. So this is probably the best fic I’ve ever written. I wanted to extend the scene where Cain visits her in s2 and sleeps on her lap, and just flesh it out. Elle, of course, brought up Lane’s mortality and how Cain would think about that and his feelings about it. Of course, the thought of this made me cry, and then I wrote him crying. I’ve never written a fic this descriptive and like flowery. It made me really nervous, but I loved the way it turned out. I probably edited it over 10 times to get all the metaphors and feelings of pain in there. Cain is a really complex character, which is part of the reason I love writing him, but it also means I am always doubting my characterization of him. With some lovely help from Agatha, I managed to work out his crying in a rather beautiful way, if I do say so myself. I honestly find myself rereading this fic whenever I’m particularly in a sad mood and just want to wallow a bit. The ending always makes me feel better though, and I always come back to it.

Unlocked - Yan x Lane — This is probably one of the fics I reread the most. I may be a dmitryan truther but don’t get me wrong…Dmitry can’t handle all that and I can! I honestly just love Yan, I think he’s such a sweet character and I just really wanted to expand on this small moment we got in the update. In a book like HSR I am always cravingggg these happy moments so this was a very self indulgent fic. The premise of this one was very random tbh, I kinda just let it come to me as I was writing. Normally I have a vague plot when I start a fic but with this one I was just like, well he’ll get in there and figure it out. I wanted there to be some smut but it didn’t feel right in the context of the scene. I was also very nervous writing this one because there are no YanLane fics on here, so I was really going in blind. Normally, I like to read a few fics to see how other people characterize who I’m writing about before I do my take. I was honestly surprised this did well, I didn’t realize YanLane was popular at all. But more importantly, I really like it! It’s a very comforting soft fic for me to reread.

Hate me harder - Cassiel x Audrey (18+) — Okay a wonderful change of pace here, this one was for Agatha not Elle! She tolerates so much CainLane from the both of us that I had to write this for her. She made a post about how Cassiel and Audrey should have slept together in season 1, and I was just very inspired by it? I think that’s my favourite thing about writing, if I want something to happen, I can just write it happening. The scene in the hallway where he tells her, “I’m gonna lock you in a closet” was genuinely so funny to me. They have such good chemistry in that first season, I love a good enemies to lovers moment. I hadn’t written full smut in a long time so I actually had to go back and consult some of my old smut fics and jog my memory a bit! But the banter during the sex was actually really easy to write, I really enjoyed that part of it. I don’t reread this one as often but I do really like it. I hope to write more for them but their dynamic doesn’t come to me as easily as CainLane and YanLane, which is probably because I’ve played HSR almost ten times now. But ABH is definitely a banger for me so I’m excited to see the ending and write some more Audriel.

🌟 Thank you so much for joining us, Aditi, and for sharing your incredible creativity with us! Your work has truly enriched the RC fandom, and we’re so grateful for everything you’ve contributed. Keep creating, inspiring, and making this community even more amazing! And a huge thank you to you, the reader!! You help us keep the catalog going strong. We appreciate you being a part of this amazing journey! 💛

[skylineskzkeep]

Chaumet Event

[Seungmin x f!idol!reader]

POV: You show up to the Chaumet Event in Paris just to see none other than your worst enemy, Seungmin. After some events, your night (and outfit) are ruined and someone comes to your rescue ;)

Content: Cursing in private lol, “who did this to you?” trope, enemies to lovers fr, some suggestive content but nothing beyond some making out, just two idols literally breaking every rule, idols acting out of norm, heheh

THE LINKS: If they don’t work PLEASE LMK!! Also for the jewelry there’s THREE seperate links.

Yoshi and Ivy are not meant to be real ppl, purely characters created for the story

I stumbled across a post by my dear friend @nightmarenyxx and was like ‘ya know what i know i do fake texts but fuck it, this is TOO GOOD’

ENJOY!!

My library HERE :)

Showing up in Paris was supposed to be a dream come true. Attending the Chaumet Event during Paris Fashion Week was supposed to be the highlight of my year.

And it was until I walked in to see Kim Seung-min standing across the room.

Ever since my recent rise to fame in the KPop industry, he’s never gave up the chance to put me down in some way. Always a sly comment or subtle blow to my self esteem.

I tried to hide my expression as cameras continued to flash. It wasn’t unknown to the public that we had a rivalry, they just assume it’s fan service.

If our rivalry is fan service then so is minsung.

Working my way around the room, I find the Singapore Bazaar interviewer. My manager runs through what to say and do and what questions will be asked.

During the interview, all I can focus on is Seungmin moving his way across the room (not so) subtly.

“Just don’t give him your time. If he gets over here just ignore him. We don’t need the press getting pictures of you two together.” My manager grabs my arm and we begin to make our rounds and saying hello to people and networking.

“I can feel him looking over here.” I let out a deep breathe and squeeze her arm. My manager has always been like an older sister to me since I entered the industry young and with little knowledge. “I feel sick. I don’t want to deal with his big mouth tonight.”

“I know honey, but listen. Just don’t pay him any mind. If he does say something, just manipulate it.”

“Manipulate it?” I turn to face her and raise an eyebrow. A worker comes by with a tray of drinks and I grab one. My manager grabs it from me and puts it back on the tray.

“No alcohol. You’re still in early stages in this world. It’s bad for your image and it can impair your thinking.” I roll my eyes, not having alcohol in this moment sucks. I could use the relief from my overthinking mind.

“Anyways,” she continues. “If he says something, just smile and thank him. He’ll be so confused you can just walk away before he has a comeback for it.” She scans the room.

“That’ll work?” I try to follow her gaze.

“Yes, it always does.” She winks. “I have to go network on my own now, think you’ll be okay?”

Nodding, I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna do a walk by of the array of sweets I see and try to find a non alcoholic drink around here.”

She laughs and pats my arm. “I’ll come find you later.” With that she walks off to find whoever she spotted earlier. I straighten the hem of my outfit and take a quick survey of the crowds of people.

I fiddle with my outfit again. My stylist went way too hard with it. It was a black oversized suit jacket-dress with rhinestones on the collar and details. It sat mid thigh, leaving my legs bare. Underneath the jacket was just some shapewear, so I had to be careful with my posture.

In the spirit of the event, I was decorated in the finest Joséphine Aigrette Chaumet jewlery worth more than my life.

I check the straps on my shoes as well, the most expensive pair of heels I think I’ve ever worn so far. They were blacked out YSL heels, but the heel was the YSL logo.

I decide to find a bathroom, or anywhere with a mirror. This was one of my first major events outside of label events or fan meetings. I was a solo artist, so a lot of my events were with groups from my label or similar label.

Being in Paris for Fashion Week with Chaumet was the first thing I’ve done not associated with my label. To say my anxiety was present was an understatement.

I was still getting used to be dressed in expensive garments and accessories, one item alone always costing more than I can process.

I find a hallway mirror and quickly check my hair, which was straightened and pinned behind my ears.

I felt properly dressed, and seeing it in full for a moment restored my self confidence. I looked good. Reminder to self to thank my stylist.

I walked back into the main room when I heard a grating voice, “Who let you in here?”

Slowly turning, I say “Nice to see you too Seungmin.” Suddenly I have to fight my jaw from going slack.

Whoever put him in this suit deserves a raise. He looked ethereal. His all white suit accentuated his frame and height, and his hair was done to frame his face so well.

“Like what we see?” The smug look on his face suddenly made every nice thought I had dissapear and remind me why I hate this man.

“I was actually judging why they’d put you in that but okay. Seems like something too fancy to be on someone like you.” I roll my eyes to walk away when he opens his mouth yet again.

Never one to let me have the last word he lets out a breathy laugh before saying, “Well if you excuse me, I’ll be off to find the front door security because if they let you on the list, then they aren’t doing their job.” He turns around to walk away before I can even come up with something.

Seungmin- 1,000

Y/N- 0

It never fails. That man so easy crawls under my skin and makes me act like a fool. He does it so smooth, and it makes me angry that he can never just be civil with me at public events. I quickly look around, surveying for any cameras that may have seen that and let my shoulders fall when I find none.

My manager’s advice runs through my head and I mentally curse myself for not taking it. Working my way by the table of finger foods set out, I take a small pastry doused in chocolate. I move to stand off to the side. I know I should be mingling and networking but I don’t have it in me.

Like a savior of light in my darkness, I see a familiar face shimming over to me. I fight back a smile as Yoshi works her way over to me. She’s been my best friend ever since we started our idol journeys together. She got signed to a girl group while I went solo. “Girll, I saw you talking to Seungmin!! Please tell me that man has taste and complimented you because you look HOT!” She grabs my arms while looking me over. “Pose for me come on!”

I laugh as I do a turn and look over my shoulder at her. “My stylist really hit the mark with this one.”

She whistles and a few heads turn, making my face heat up. “You look fine girl.” She jokingly bites her lip.

“You look gorgeous yourself babe!!” She does a twirl showing off the pleaded skirt of her sparkling strapless dress. “Stunning.”

“I know right! So you need answer my question about Seungmin.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I know we’re meant to not like him but he looks so good tonight that I could eat him right up.”

“Yoshi!!” I try to quiet her, but sigh when she accusingly looks at me. “He insulted me as always. He acted like I’m not good enough to be here.”

“I’m gonna hunt him down I swear-“

“No!! Don’t! The last thing I want is for more attention to be on this situation.”

As if he has a sixth sense, he saunters over out of nowhere. “Are we talking about your favorite subject again Y/N?”

I feel the groan bubble up in my throat, but notice a few heads turn to us and whisper. “Can we not right now Seungmin?”

“Not what? Can’t I just have a conversation with two fellow artists?” That bast-

“We were actually talking about our outfits, so I would say we are talking about her favorite topic.” Yoshi puts her hand on her hip.

“You’d think she’d step up her fashion sense if that’s her favorite topic.” He runs his eyes up and down my figure with a disgusted face.

“Says the one wearing all one color.” Yoshi rolls her eyes.

“And I think I’m pulling it off just fine.” He winks at her and she visibly fights a gag. It takes every ounce of control not to laugh.

“Anyways, Y/N and I were just about to go talk to a few people and socialize. If you don’t mind.” She goes to grab my hand when suddenly a girl I’ve never seen comes up to our group, a glass of wine in hand.

“What’re we talking about Minnie.” MINNIE?! Oh PLEASE don’t tell me this is some kind of date of his. This is the last thing I need.

“Just talking about Chaumet jewlery of course. Y/N’s necklace is from the Joséphine Aigrette line.” That smug smile I despise returns to his mouth as he looks her up and down.

She smiles up at him and goes to put her hand on his shoulder when he shifts his weight out of her range. “Well, I was just about to go say hi to the Singapore Bazaar interviewer if you’d like an interview. I can get you one.” She runs her hand down his arm and I can feel the hairs stand up on my arm as if she’s touching me.

This is so uncomfortable to watch. I go to ask Yoshi if we should leave but see she’s been pulled away by a crowd of people. Well…

“Oh! I never introduced myself! I’m Ivy. And you are?” She looks down at me as if I’m beneath her.

“I’m Y/N.” I nod at her.

“How do you know Minnie?” The tone of her voice is so condescending it makes something boil in my chest.

“We work in the industry together.” Simple answer. It’s the truth.

“We like to tease each other here and there.” Of course he had to make it worse. Bringing up the rivalry was not what I wanted to happen.

“Oh? How so?” She shifts her body in a way that reminds me of a snake about to strike as she looks at him.

“Just back and forth stuff. She bites and I back bite, vice versa.” The way his eyes met mine when he said that make my stomach turn. “I was just teasing her earlier about how I was clueless on how she got in here.”

She laughs, “I was wondering it myself! That’s why I came over to see who you were when I saw Minnie talking to you again.” She accentuates ‘again’ as if I’m not allowed to talk to him.

If only I was so lucky.

“Anyways Minnie, why don’t you head over to the interviewer and I’ll meet you over there! I need to refill my glass.” She winks and lightly pushes him in that direction.

Her head snaps to me and I try not to jump. “That outfit is cute, but I think it’s missing something.” Before I can question her, she takes a whipped cream covered pastry and smashes it all over the front of my outfit.

Suddenly time slows down as people begin shouting and cameras flash at a record rate. They’ll be twisting this for sure. I can’t breathe, everyone staring.

“That’s what you get for trying to get with my man! Just because you’re an idol doesn’t mean you can steal other women’s boyfriends!!” Then she splashes the wine all over me.

Wait- what??

Suddenly microphones are in my face as she walks away and they’re asking me questions but the words are falling on deaf ears. She played the press by making me seem like the bad guy. Suddenly I spot her with a man in the crowd. Cameras start flashing pictures of them and they kiss for the press.

Meanwhile, I’m frozen, every inch of my body numb as pictures are still being taken and questions are being fired at me left and right. My image is done for.

I’ll never make it out of this.

I sprint to the hallway and search for a bathroom. I get lucky when it turns out to be a single stall. I lock the door behind me and let the tears fall as I try to wet the disposable towels and remove the stain.

It’s futile and I know that but my entire system is in fight or flight mode. I throw the towel down and sink to the floor in a pathetic heap of sobs.

This whole night is ruined and I still don’t know what happened. She was all over Seungmin and claimed I was stealing her boyfriend? But then she went and kissed who I assume is her actual boyfriend?

Was this about Seungmin? Why would it be if she’s not even with him?

A knock appeared at the door and my voice let out a pathetic attempt at the word ‘occupied’ but the world stopped moving when I heard. “Let me in.”

Seungmin. Is. Outside. The. Door.

“Please. I think I can help.” I’d never heard him speak that way. That tone of voice sounded so unlike him.

“Don’t go quiet on me. Please. I don’t know what happened but I saw you run out.”

I don’t know what came over me, but I opened the door. His face goes tight with something I don’t recognize as he locks the door behind him. “Y/N…”

“Go ahead. Say whatever horrible thing is in your head. Go ahead!! Make fun of what happened! Say something mean!!” I’m shouting now, knowing the torture of what words he can spit at me right now.

“Who did this to you?” His throat bobs as he swallows.

“What?”

“Who. Did. This. To. You.” No longer a question, but a command. This was a new side of Seungmin, he wouldn’t even meet my eyes. His eyes were stuck on the giant stain on my outfit.

“Uh, that girl Ivy. She said something about stealing her boyfriend as soon as you left and cameras started flashing. The press heard it and my image is ruined.”

He swallows again and nods. I feel like prey cornered by a predator. Afraid to move or say too much or the wrong thing. All he does is close his eyes and licks his bottom lip as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

Did he just apologize? What-

“She’s so handsy with all the male idols. She has a boyfriend, yet does this to every female who is even remotely associated with her favorite idols.” His chest rises with a deep breath. He takes a step closer, grabbing the spot on my jacket as he releases the breath.

“What’re you doing?” My voice is shaky as it comes out. He looks so good in the darker lighting of the bathroom. I’ve never seen him so close. What is happening?

“Since it’s just you and me, I’ll be honest.” My spine chills and I freeze completely. “My intention isn’t to come across mean to you. I just get so nervous that it’s like a defense mechanism.”

“Against what?”

His lips form a thin line as he lets go of my coat. “Me finding you irresistible. The first time I saw you I knew you had to be mine, but everytime I spoke to you it’s like something took over my brain. I don’t know why it was something rude, but suddenly we were enemies and I had to just keep up the facade I guess.”

I think my body just took a screenshot, because this isn’t real. My brain isn’t processing.

“When I saw you tonight in this outfit, nothing I was thinking was even relatively appropriate. It’s so obvious you’re wearing nothing under this. I can’t stop staring across the room. I was gonna tell you tonight, I really was.”

“Seungmin.” Suddenly the air in here was too heavy to breathe.

“But then you turned around and looked so annoyed that I couldn’t do it. I knew you’d reject it, think it was me being me again.” Finally his eyes met mine. “I’m in love with you, and I have been.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I was fighting for oxygen now, his gaze melted me to my core.

“Say yes when I ask if I can kiss you?”

“I-“

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

His lips are on mine before I can even get the word out. They’re incredibly soft and so smooth against mine as the room heats. His hands wrap under my thighs as he lifts me onto the counter. He positions himself inbetween my legs as I gasp.

He takes that opening to explore my mouth with his tongue as his hands squeeze my thighs and hips. They’re roaming everywhere. My hands find purchase in his hair, lost in the moment.

His body pressed against mine is a feeling I wanna feel again and again. It’s addicting and it feels like home. “Y/N…” My name leaves his lips as he backs up an inch. The sound of it goes straight to my soul. I let in a sharp inhale at the feeling.

His fingers fiddle with the buttons of my jacket. “Remember how I said I can help?”

“Seungmin, not in the bathroom here.”

His breathy laugh tickles my face. “Not like that. But, do you trust me?”

I nod silently as he removes my jacket. It leaves me bare up top, only my black shapewear on the bottom. I try not to think too much of him staring at my chest, or the way his pupils blow.

“Seungmin…where is this going?” He licks his lips and then nods, throwing the jacket to the side.

“Right. Stand up.” I do as he says as he removes his white jacket. He helps me into it and buttons it up, adjusting it to cover my chest properly. “There.”

Grabbing my shoulders, he turns me to the mirror. “It fits just like the other one.” My eyes go wide at his idea. “But won’t people talk? They’ll notice?”

“Then they’ll have better news to publish than your little pastry event.” He tilts his head at me in the mirror.

“Won’t that start rumors?”

“Then why don’t we feed into it?” He kisses my neck as leans into me so my hips hit the counter edge. “You already messed up my hair, your mascara is smudged under your eyes and your lipstick is down your chin, and on my mouth.”

Looking at us in the mirror, he’s right. We both look like fucked out messes. I can’t help the laugh that leaves my throat.

“If they wanna spread rumors that we fucked in the bathroom, then why don’t we give them the details to write about?” I knew damn well that it goes against every rule as an idol, but I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t wanna see where this went.

His hands snake up my sides and land in my hair, unpinning it from behind my ears. His fingers fluff the roots and lay the front pieces back around my face.

“At least wipe off the lipstick.” I hand him a towel, and he complies, wiping mine off my face as well.

“Let’s go raise some hell.” He winks and leads me out of the bathroom. Time slows as he walks in front of me back to the main room, our hands linked. I know the damage that’s about to happen to both of our careers, our labels are going to kill us after this releases.

But I don’t really fucking care right now.

As soon as we cross the threshold, cameras turn and flashing nearly blinds us. Everyone’s shouting questions at us. We both freeze for a moment.

The world spins around me for a fraction of a second until Seungmin wraps his arm around my waist and pulls my chest into his side. We look at each other for a moment, and then as if reading each other’s minds, he looks up at the cameras as I look over my shoulder at them.

Oh are we gonna pay for this. But it’s so worth it.

As soon as the press deems they got enough for the articles that’re going to be the headline of every major media outlet, Seungmin backs off a bit and looks fully at me.

“What do you say we go upstairs to my suite? I can’t stand the sight of you in my clothes and not being able to rip them off of you in this moment.”

My whole body shutters, but I take his hand as we both sneak out before we’re caught again.

[verysanebsdfan]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟷𝟼: ɢʟᴀss ᴀᴄǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ

The Perfect Equation: Glass acquired

Ishigami Senku x fem!reader

masterlist tpe masterlist

<previous・・・・・ next>

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kohaku then took a look at Suika, and almost squealed in excitement, but then the smaller girl squinted her eyes, probably to see, and wrinkled up her whole face. I see now, unlike her.

・・・・・

"Suika's eyes, well.... They've got the fuzzy disease—makes everything all blurry! So Suika tries extra hard to see, and... It's just embarrassing to squint like this." The little girl said, holding the helmet in her hands, desperately trying to avoid our view. "But with this watermelon mask on... everything becomes a little easier to see!" She said happily and put the mask back on.

"Oh... The pinhole effect, was it?" I smile.

"Exactly!" Senku smiles and points at me. "Peeking through little holes narrows the stream of light. That reduces the degree of fuzziness." Senku stated.

I nod along until Chrome starts speaking, "So there's a connection between Suika's fuzzy disease and glass?" He said confusedly, to which Senku almost had a full-on crash out.

"A ten billion percent connection!" He shouted. "Listen, Suika, your issue you're super duper near-sighted!" He said and crouched down to Suika's eye level. "It's not a disease—there's nothing wrong with you."

"During our time, we had these scientific eyes created from glass. We called them glasses, with them, you will be able to see well!" I explained to the small girl, and she perked up in surprisement.

"So science can even make new eyes for someone? That's just too good to be true." She said quietly.

"Almost too good to be true? That's exactly why I became so interested in science—well, amongst other reasons." The other reason is Senku.

"Suika really just wants to see the world clearly. Even just once." She said sadly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Suika wants to see you guys, even if it's only one time. Not the fuzzy versions. But the way you guys really look!!"

"Well, let's get to it then! Time to make some glass!!" Chrome got up and shouted.

And with that, we set off on our journey of searching for the "Magical sand", as Suika named it—it was really just silica sand though. Anyway, it did not take us too long to find it, since Chrome has found a lead to it years ago. Now onto mining. It's like in Minecraft, even though I'm just going crazy from all the work.

It did not take us too long to collect the silica sand, even if it was hard labour, with all the helpful people around, it went by much faster than I anticipated.

"Now, Kohaku, you gotta crush them." Senku continued ordering us, mainly Kohaku and Chrome, around for so long, until the sun had already set.

"Now we just need lead," Senku mumbled as he finished his dinner.

"And we will do that tomorrow. You need sleep. " I smile at him and push him towards the storehouse, which has been our sleeping space for the time we have spent here. To that, Senku only grumbled and let me lead him inside. We both lie down next to each other and get comfy.

"You know, I kinda like this life, even if it's exhausting, and sometimes even frustrating," I muttered and turned to face him.

"You do? I didn't think you would..." He muttered in response, "I mean, there is not much gossip, no sweets and cakes..."

"At least I'm here with you." I smiled brightly, and in that moment, Senku felt as if I were the centre of his universe, which no one would ever even think of. Not even I would. "It's all I could wish for—well, Yuzuriha and Taiju would be here as well in the ideal scenario, but you get me, no?"

"It reminds me of our time we spent travelling," He whispers softly, "we spend a lot of time outside, instead of being cramped in a lab or my room, just like we did back then."

"You're right, it is similar, the only thing missing is those overly worried calls and texts from your dad." I chuckle and huddle more of my blanket above me, since it is quite cold.

"Right, my old man..." he looked at the ceiling of the storehouse, seemingly deep in thought.

"I am sure he is okay..." I say quietly, yet both of us knew that even if he got petrified as well, he was in space. There was no way.

Then, the room turned silent, besides the occasional sounds of fauna outside, it was eerily quiet, until Senku spoke again. "I will go to space one day. That did not change. And you—dear (Name)—are gonna be the one to get me there, just like we planned thousands of years ago." He said and turned to me, his scarlet irises almost burning into my soul. I don't think I've ever seen them carry this much emotion; it is almost unnatural, yet it looks good on him.

"Yeah, I didn't spend my childhood learning space engineering stuff for nothing..." I mutter... "I could have been a paleontologist or something."

"Oh yeah, that's right, you loved dinosaurs. Why did you switch to space engineering?" He questioned, his smile curling downwards.

"Oh- I don't even know, I think it was because the bones won't run away, but the Space changes with every passing second, so I wanted to help you discover as much of the unknown as possible," I say quietly.

"You changed for me?" He questioned, frowning even more, in an almost disappointed way.

"Not really, space engineers get paid more and are much more acknowledged." I smile. "I also wanted to be like my mom. Even my dad—a paleontologist—wanted me to be like my mom." I chuckle slightly at the thought of my slightly chaotic family.

"Ah, yes, your parents." He sighed and smiled slightly. "Well, good night, (Name)."

"Good night, Senku."

・・・・・

"Wake up, sleepyhead, we are making the lenses!" I heard someone shout, just before my blanket was rudely snatched off, exposing me to the—luckily—warm air.

"Didn't we need lead?" I muttered and rubbed my eyes.

"Did you forget? I am always two steps ahead—especially when it comes to waking up and being efficient." Senku—the one who rudely woke me up—said and started climbing down the ladder from the storehouse.

After I was rudely woken up, I climbed down as well and looked around. Everything was already prepared, and we could prepare the lenses. Cmon, did I really sleep that long?

My energy was fortunately restored, and I could put myself to use again, not like I was useful now, since Senku did not let me pour the hot mixture into the form. Rude much. However, we acquired the lens. It was thick, but clear, so it should work well. After we polish it, of course.

"What is this weird tool for?" Suika asked curiously.

"Trying to grind down glass by hand would probably kill us," Senku smirked and looked at the tool.

With that, Chrome perked up and sprinted into the storehouse, while shouting. "Grinding, huh? As usual, it's time for the baaad and hard Mr. Corundum to shine!" Hard? That's what she said. "It'll grind anything down in a snap!"

And so, we add the corundum into the tool and start adjusting the glass's thickness, according to Suika's needs. After that, we decide on where to take her, so her first time seeing is special. You know, this is what the stone world is different, compared to the old—what we would call "modern" world. I seriously doubt anyone would take you to a pretty place for the first time you put on your glasses.

In the end, we chose a gorgeous sunflower field and led Suika there. "Suika, can you tell what you're looking at here?" Senku asked her, to which she squinted.

"That's a sunflower, right? Even Suika can tell that much..." But with that, Senku plopped the watermelon shell on her head, adjusting the holes so she could see.

"It's...beautiful." She whispered as tears started pouring down her face. "And (Name)! You are more beautiful than I thought!" She exclaimed!

"Why, thank you, Suika." I smiled and patted her head.

"And Senku, Chrome, you also look better than I thought—not as much as (Name) though."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist: @thelonestarinthesky @mikachuchan

[wenellyb]

Just join us back!!!! You hate Tommy and we hate tommy! BT is so bone anyway! Join the light!

Hi Anon!!!! You're too funny! Thanks for the proposal but I'll take the canon ship over the 7-year fanon ship.

I understand the Buddie ship, it is a cute ship. Friends-to-lovers is one of my favorite trope but when it comes to Buck and Eddie I just don't see it. This is my personal opinion btw. They behave like best friends do, they're not overly affectionate and there hasn't been any indication that the writers are planning to make them a couple.

I think there has been so many occasions the writers could have hinted at that in season 7, but they didn't. Instead they doubled down on Buck's feelings for Tommy, so why would I be setting myself up for disappointment when Buck already has a love interest and an interesting storyline.

To each their own taste, your fandom is big enough that you don't need to recruit me to join you guys! I'm not a big fan shipping a couple that never had any ambiguous scene whatsoever but if you like it, sure ship it!

Buck and Tommy's storyline on the other hand is compelling, we have a meet cute, and Buck being obsessed with Tommy, we have angst, and I'm sure we'll get a great arguing scene once Tommy stops running away at any minor inconvenience.

Lastly, even if I did ship Buddie I would never ever ever want to be part of the Buddie fandom because you guys never call out the toxic shippers and it pollutes your whole fandom.

The Buddie fandom is worst than the Destiel fandom [affectionate] at it's worst. I cannot fathom how you guys can have a satisfying fandom experience when every other post in the tags is just complaining about another character, insulting people who don't ship your ship and calling them "traitors" instead of just focusing on your ship.

You guys were so bad at one point that Oliver Stark closed his social media accounts and I also believe you guys are the reason why he still hasn't created a new Twitter account.

This is not directed at you Anon, please understand that, but whenever I go in the 911 tag and see a Buddie post I can't help but think that a lot of Buddie shippers sound miserable and don't even enjoy the shipping anymore. Sounds like the ship is just a source of anxiety and anger whereas shipping should a source of joy and fun.

TL:DR: No matter how much I like a couple, I could never be in a fandom that toxic. So thank you for the proposal but non thank you.

[snapdragonsimming]

The Big Fundie Simblr Ask Game

I've noticed that our beloved Fundie Simblr community could use a little more action, so I've written up this (insanely long!) ask game. Just pick a letter and a number to play. I encourage you to send asks to your mutuals and non-mutuals alike!

A: Writing/Posting

Who is your favorite sim to write for? Your least favorite?

What has been your favorite storyline to write? Your least favorite?

If you could go back and change anything you've written, what would it be?

What part of your blog are you most proud of?

How long does it take you to draft the average post?

Where do you write?

Where do you get your inspiration?

Do you base characters off people you know personally?

Share some advice for those running a Fundie Simblr blog!

Share a screenshot you took that you love the look of.

Share a hint, spoiler or teaser for an upcoming post.

How far ahead do you plan? Do you have a full queue right now?

B: Gameplay

What packs do you use the most?

What mods do you use the most?

Who is your favorite CC creator for modest clothing?

Do you think you struggle with "same-face syndrome" when creating your sims? 🙃

Do you find yourself falling into trends with regards to the "type" of (fundie) sims you create? (for example: lots of guys in the military, lots of girls with red hair, et cetera)

How do you pick names for your sims?

If you have multiple households, which is the easiest/most enjoyable to play? How about the easiest/least enjoyable?

Do you keep your sims on a routine, or is it constant chaos?

Do you cheat needs often? (No judgment either way!)

What's your advice for keeping large households alive?

In actual gameplay, how fundie are your sims? (for example: do you let them kiss before marriage, even though in-story they don't do that until the wedding? Do your sims actually have the jobs they do in the story? Et cetera.)

When you're not playing fundie sims, what kind of sims do you play?

C: Character Questions

Feel free to answer these as yourself/the narrator, or as the characters themselves! And if you're the one sending the ask, make sure to specify the sims in question, unless you want to be surprised :)

Would [Sim] say they were happy, if asked? Are they happy?

Are [Sim 1] and [Sim 2] happy in their relationship?

What are [Sim]'s personal convictions on modesty/dating/children/whatever?

What would [Sim/Family] be like if they weren't fundie?

Has [Sim] ever doubted their faith? How did they "return to God"? (Or "come to God," if they're a convert!)

What does [Sim] love and hate about their family? (Parents, siblings, children, whatever!)

If [Sim] had another career path, what would they do?

Share a few random facts about [Sim/Family] that may not come up in the story!

How would others describe [Sim]? (Feel free to specify who those "others" are!)

How would [Sim] describe themself?

Is [Sim/Family] well regarded at their church? Where do they fall in the community hierarchy?

How is [Sim/Family] doing, financially speaking? Are they content, or do they desire more?

What's the most scandalous/sinful thing [Sim] has done? Would they admit to it, if asked?

D: Community

Choose one Fundie Simblr blog that you follow, tag them, and say something nice about them or their story!

Choose a post from a Fundie Simblr blog that you enjoy, and reblog it with a comment in the tags!

What's your favorite character, storyline or moment from another Fundie Simblr?

What's something you'd love to see from the Fundie Simblr community?

Are there any non-fundie Simblr blogs that you enjoy? Feel free to recommend some!

Have you ever been inspired by another Simblr's writing? How did it go?

E: Fundie Snark

When did you first get into fundie snarking, and how?

Which is your "favorite" fundie family to keep up with, if you pay attention to real-life fundies?

What's your favorite batshit fundie moment?

Which poor fundie child are you rooting for the most?

Did you ever watch 19KAC/Counting On/Bringing Up Bates/etc?

F: About You

When did you first start playing The Sims? Which game was it?

What's one good thing that's happened to you this week?

Share a fun fact about yourself!

Have you told in-person friends or family about your fundie sims?

If you had to describe yourself with an aspiration + traits, what would they be?

If you had to choose a Sims pack that represents your personality, which one would it be?

[ziptieparty]

people in that leitmotif post mention a few things that i do know but i just had no idea that was happening at all because honestly i dont hear a lot of music i listen to

it sounds. like static? water running sometimes? like. i do hear a lot of it (unreliable i have no way of actually knowing) like i can hear (most) vocals & mid range sound but if theres any distraction or other noise (like someone talking) itll just be Gone or become garbled nonsense i can only really catch snips of but i can consistently feel the beat at least and i like that a lot

but the concept of a guy having a sound that changes and mixes w other guys is really interesting i like when multiple layers of a story interact with each other like that

[eldritchamy]

INTERNAL DOCUMENT - FOR REVIEW PURPOSES ONLY

Proposed Anomaly Classification for Recovered Object #01039-A, pending approval

SCP-[PENDING] - "Inside Out Hurricane"

Containment Class: Euclid Keter Disruption Class: VLAM EHKI Risk Class: Danger

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-[PENDING] is contained almost entirely within the boundaries of SCP-[PENDING]-A. [PENDING]-A should be kept closed and locked at all times unless otherwise directed by Research Supervisor [Unassigned]. A perimeter is to be maintained around the lot where [PENDING]-A sits at all times by Foundation staff posing as private security. A gated fence no less than 25ft in height should be placed around all entrances to SCP-[PENDING]-A to obstruct view from publicly accessible areas near the site. Description: SCP-[PENDING]-A is a large industrial facility with hangar-style doors at either end as well as 5 smaller staff entrances. The building is approximately 150' by 490' by 35' in volume. Brand markings on the hangar are heavily degraded, but the logo appears to have superficially resembled an unusual crown-like shape composed of four sets of horns, below which is the text "Ekur Industries, est. [indecipherable]" The exterior of the building is otherwise unremarkable. SCP-[PENDING] is an intense storm contained entirely within the interior dimensions of [PENDING]-A. The storm features extraordinary wind speeds and heavy rain that fully obscures vision beyond 2.1 meters, though lightning flashes are occasionally visible through the storm. No recording equipment has been recovered after entering the storm barrier. A specially constructed anemometer anchored from outside the building measured a sustained wind speed of at least 287.4 mph (462.5 km/h, 421.5 ft/s, 128.5 m/s), exceeding the highest reliably recorded non-tornado wind speed on Earth. Gust speeds were recorded up to 422 mph before the device suffered a catastrophic failure, prior to the completion of a 5-minute mean speed test. The maximum structural integrity of the device was designed to withstand wind speeds up to 465 mph. Water samples collected after expulsion from the storm barrier are consistent with that of non-anomalous Earth seawater. A best-fit analysis suggests the water originated somewhere in the north Arabian Sea or the Persian Gulf. The internal dimensions of the storm are unknown but believed to exceed the external dimensions of the building by a considerable margin. A successful method of measuring the scale of the storm has yet to be devised.

Addendum 01039-A.02: An exploratory mission was conducted at Entrance B, one of the staff entrances to SCP-[PENDING]-A located on the southwest exterior wall. Entrance B leads to a raised section of the facility interior presumably used by a site administrator. Much of the accessible area is unremarkable, containing various maintenance equipment and standard water and electrical infrastructure. A door of unusual construction sits at the highest accessible point within Area B. The door is a seamless, dusty tan stone that leaves no gaps around the edges, has no visible handle or opening mechanism, and is featureless apart from an adjacent sign that reads, "IT IS FORBIDDEN." Addendum 01039-A.03: EXPLORATORY LOG FOR AREA B, ██/██/20██ The first sign of something unusual was Research Advisor 2381. As soon as he saw the warning sign outside the stone door, he stopped dead and pointed at it. What follows is an audio transcript for the exploratory mission, consisting of Research Team 2381 (Dr. █████ ████████), 2607 (████ ███████), Research Lead 1670 (Dr. "█████ ███" ████████), and Mission Supervisor 0983 (Dr. ██████ █████), as well as several D-Class security personnel. 2381: "No one said that sign was in Spanish." 2607: "It's not." 2381: "Exactly." 2607: "Come again?" 2381: "I'm seeing it in Spanish." 1670: "Cognitohazard?" 0983: "Not necessarily." 1670: "[2381], what was your first language?" 2381: "Spanish." 0983: "Psychic. Everyone here have anti-memetic training?" [various noises of assent} 0983: "Good. What we're dealing with just got more interesting. If there's anything conscious behind that door, it could be anything from a low level psychic to a reality bender. Keep that Kant counter on. [2607], if you hear so much as a BLIP on that thing you call it out IMMEDIATELY."

Approximately 1 hour 16 minutes later, the team successfully opened the door and proceeded inside.

2607: "Clear so far." 2381: "Let's hope it stays that way." 0983: "Well, well. What have we here?" 1670: "Mission control be advised the room looks like an office, but everything in it is...out of place. It looks more like a museum than anything. Various maps and texts pinned to the walls. Some old artifacts. Very old statuettes and things. Normal looking desk with a lot of papers on it. There's a large viewing window overlooking the storm. Can't see a fucking thing through it, of course. Can't hear it either, though, so the glass is VERY solid. Soundproofed somehow." 2381: "Map on the wall shows ... Middle East, but it's not modern. It LOOKS like it was taken from a satellite, but there's ... it's like civilization hasn't happened yet. There's almost no cities on here at all, and I don't recognize any of the names. Might need to bring in [REDACTED] from Site-██, she has a background in Assyriology." 1670: "What is that thing MADE of? Looks like leather." 2381: "Very old leather. Sheep skin, maybe? God I hope it's sheep." 1670: "Desk is covered in old writing. Paper is all falling apart old. There's a tablet, too." 0983: "Is it on?" 1670: "Uh, not that kind of tablet, sir. Some kind of clay or stone. There's writing on it, but ... it's weird." 2607: "CLICK." 0983: "What was that?" 1670: "It's ... I can read it." 2607: "Clicks, sir. Something on the Kant counter." 1670: "I don't even know what LANGUAGE this is." 2381: "I'd guess Sumerian, based on this map. If not older." 0983: "What are you reading, [2607]? 1670: "'You who would come so far, for what do you come?'" 2607: "It's coming from the statue, I think." [several audible pops from the Kant counter] 2301: "Statue ... plaque under it says ... 'The Founder, N. Lil'?" 1670: "'For what do you invoke my name? This place is not your place, our purpose is not your purpose...'" 0983: "[1670], stop reading that right now!" [popping sounds increase in frequency and volume] 1670: "'Petulant children of Amar-Utuk, things of clay and breath, by what right do you seek the unseekable, upon whose honor do you hope to know the unknowable?'" 2607: "Sir... this thing is reading something big." 0983: "I am ORDERING you to stop. Everyone out of the room, NOW. If he keeps reading it, shoot him. He's lost." 2301: "N. Lil. Where have I heard that before?" 1670: "'As I separated the sky and the firmament-'" [multiple gunshots] 1670: "-as I separated the earth from the waters, so shall my winds separate the waters from clay. This domain is not your domain, for all domains by rights are mine alone to rule. You have come too far, and you shall trespass no further." [Kant counter emits a near constant pitch until the sound of glass shattering can be heard, and the storm overtakes the room instantly. The remainder of the audio recording is 10.3 seconds of wind, rain, and thunder before the transmission abruptly ends.]

Addendum 01039-A.04: All members of Exploratory Mission 01039-B are presumed deceased. The exterior of SCP-[PENDING]-A seems to have contained the storm and prevented further breach. Entrance B has been welded shut and all pending exploratory missions are terminated until further notice. Precisely 24 hours after the mission was terminated, a Kant counter was found outside the welded door to Area B. After drying and data recovery, it is believed to be the Kant counter used by EM 01039-B. The final recording logged by the counter showed Akiva radiation and Hume distortion consistent with an Apex tier pluripotent entity. The mechanism by which the entity is contained by [PENDING]-A is unknown. Additional research funding has been requested.

Addendum 01039-A.05: Attn. Research Team 10139-A.05, Your request is denied. We were given a clear warning. Maintain perimeter and take no further actions without authorization. MTF Eta-77 and MTF Psi-7 have been notified of your status and will be in touch. Regards, O5-11

.

[redflannelsheets]

.

[pedroscurls]

let me show you (one-shot)

summary: joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), established relationship, age gap (joel's in his 50s, reader's 30), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, mating press (i feel like this is joel's go-to), doggystyle, cowgirl, multiple creampies (oops), light manhandling, light marking, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k a/n: so happy to take part at @yxtkiwiyxt's other "never have i ever" challenge for her one year writing anniversary!!! congrats on one year, kiwi - you're such a talented writer that it's so crazy to me that you've only been writing one year! can't wait to see what other stories you create - you got a lifelong fan in me and i'll read everything and everything you write 🫶. i chose joel miller and got the prompt: never have i ever had sex more than 3 times in one night. this is just complete filth, so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy <3

The entire drive home, Joel is seething. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. Jaw clenching so hard that he’s sure he’ll end up cracking a tooth or two. He isn’t even sure why he’s so angry, why some other man’s words have such an effect on him. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

The frustration radiates through his entire body, tense and tight. The age gap had been something he was wary of in the beginning, but you had always been the one to reassure him that age didn’t matter to you. He tries to hold onto what you would tell him—how safe he makes you feel, the way being in his arms brings you comfort. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He had fired that man the moment it left his lips. Tommy had to hold Joel back, and could see the way his older brother’s eyes darkened with rage. His personal life was off limits. You were off limits. After firing him, Tommy had convinced Joel to go home, that he needed the rest of the day to just cool off. 

And now, as he pulls into the driveway, Joel can’t help but hear those man’s words echo in his mind. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He climbs out of his truck and storms inside. He knows you’re already home, knows that you’re probably deep in papers that need grading, knows that you’re going to be surprised to see him home so early… 

But Joel is determined—he’s suddenly on a mission to prove to himself that age is nothing but a number. 

He drops his keys in the bowl near the door, kicks off his boots and walks upstairs to your office. The door is slightly ajar and he gently kicks it open with his foot. You look up at him and the look of surprise flashes across your face before a large grin lines your lips. 

“You’re home,” you set your pen down and stand up from your chair. “Everything okay at work?” 

Joel just grunts in response, takes three large strides in your direction before he’s standing in front of you. “Need you,” he growls, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face and past your shoulder. He leans in, presses a soft kiss on your jawline and down the side of your neck. 

“Joel,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest on his hips. “Baby, hold on—What happened?” 

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, teeth grazing your pulse point. He hears you let out a whimper and it only fuels him further. Only he could pull those sounds out of you. Age gap, be damned. 

You try to push him away to figure out what’s truly going on, but he just wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you flush against him. Joel turns you so you’re leaning against the edge of your desk, your hands moving to his broad chest. 

“Joel—”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. You can visibly see that there’s something bothering him. His gaze is dark, brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. “Think you can stop grading for one afternoon, baby?” 

“Can you first tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothin’ goin’ on,” he lies, hoisting you up onto the edge of your desk. Joel immediately moves your legs apart as he steps in to stand between them. Slowly, his hands move along your thighs, gaze moving along your frame. There’s a hunger in his eyes, clear determination that you can’t put your finger on. 

“You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” 

Joel grunts and moves a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your soft skin. “Just wanted to get home to be with my girl, that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” you answer. “But something’s clearly bothering you and—”

“Ain’t nothin’ botherin’ me, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Now, can you stop talkin’ so I can kiss you, hm?” 

“Me talking never stopped you before–”

Joel grunts in reply and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. Immediately, your hands card through his hair, gasping when you feel the urgency of the kiss. His hands roam your body, already sliding them underneath your shirt. The way his lips move against yours—hurried and desperate—catches you off guard and you’re finding it incredibly difficult to keep up. You part your lips, slowly trying to pull away from him to truly get to the root cause for his sudden behavior, but he doesn’t let you. 

Instead, his large hands grip your hips, tug you to the edge of your desk so that his jean-covered bulge presses firmly to your already throbbing core. Joel’s lips move effortlessly against your own, tongue darting out to flick against your own. You whimper against him and he growls in response, pulling back only slightly to nibble on your lower lip—this action alone causes your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him even further into you. 

“Joel,” you mumble breathlessly, gently tugging on his hair to pull back from him. You’re breathing heavy, lips swollen, eyes dark when you finally look at him. 

“Gonna spend the rest of night showing you how much I love you,” he promises, rolling his hips against you. 

“Baby,” you moan out quietly. “You always show me how much you love me.”

“Hm,” he answers. “Not enough. Never enough.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing happened at work?” 

Joel shakes his head once. “No, now can we stop talkin’ about work?” 

You nod and slowly move away from the desk to stand in front of him. You take his hand, play with his fingers before lacing them together with your own. “So, just me and you tonight?” 

Joel nods, “just me and you, baby.” He stares at you for a moment and all of a sudden, the man’s words from earlier comes back—serving as a reminder of why he had been upset in the first place. 

He releases your hand and tosses you over his shoulder. Joel hears you let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but he begins making his way out of your office and down the hall to the bedroom. It doesn’t take him long, but he can feel the strain in the center of his jeans when your hands begin to roam his body. 

Once inside the room, he tosses you onto the mattress. You prop yourself up on your forearms, but Joel—once again—tugs you to the edge of the bed. He wastes no time in hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your panties, tossing the articles of clothing carelessly to the side. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. He parts your legs and licks his lips eagerly, your sex glistening with your own arousal. 

Joel reaches down to undo his belt, followed by his zipper and button on his jeans. He pushes them down his legs, kicks them off to the side, and reaches for the ends of his shirt to lift over his head. Now clad in only his boxer briefs, Joel watches you remove your shirt as well, lying back on your forearms once you’re completely bare and naked for him. 

He reaches down and squeezes the length of himself, hardening even further at his touch. Joel leans over you, hand pressed on the mattress near your head as his free hand comes to settle between your legs. His fingers begin to make quick work, gathering your arousal on his fingertips as he teases your opening. 

“Always this wet for me, aren’t ya?” He whispers, leaning down so that his lips hover near your ear. Joel hears you let out a gasp when he slides in the tip of his middle finger—your walls welcoming him almost immediately. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, eyes fluttering. Joel slides his middle finger further into your depths, down to his knuckle, before he pulls it out completely. His entire digit is glistening and he brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking your arousal off his finger. 

“Christ,” he groans. “Can never get enough of you.” Then, Joel settles onto his knees in between your legs. He presses soft and light kisses on your inner thigh, gently nipping along the way. Though, once his lips hover near where you need him the most, he lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard. 

You sit up on your forearms, eyes glazing over and beginning to flutter when you feel him lick a stripe along the length of your sex. He keeps his eyes solely focused on you, one hand moving up your body to push you to lie back down. 

“Just relax,” he whispers. “I got you, baby. Always got you.” 

You finally fall onto your back when his lips move towards your clit, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. Your hands move to his hair immediately, pulling and tugging as he applies more pressure. 

Joel knows he could do this for the rest of his life if he could. He ruts against the mattress—your sweet taste only fueling him further. He grunts against you when you pull and tug on his hair and he can feel your arousal drip down his chin. He moves his hands to your legs, holding them apart as he pulls back to look down at you. 

“Look at you,” he says with a low groan. “Lyin’ there lookin’ so pretty.” Joel doesn’t let you get a word in because he leans back down, grips your thighs, and moves his lips to your sex. 

Your back arches—the burn of his beard scratching against your inner thighs, the way his tongue expertly moves in and out of you. A loud moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb slowly begin to rub circles into your clit. You know you’re close, can feel the pressure building and building. When your eyes lock with Joel’s, you see the corners of his lips lift—the man is fucking grinning. 

He pulls away, but before you can whine in protest, he slides two fingers past your folds. Your hands move from his hair to the sheets, gripping it tightly as you feel him expertly begin to move his fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, the sounds of his fingers squelching with each thrust into you mixes in with your moans. Joel knows—he always knows when you’re close. 

As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, Joel leans down and latches his lips around your clit. It’s just what you need to be pushed over the edge. 

Your back arches in the air, legs attempting to close and squeeze around his head—unintentionally—as your body trembles with pleasure. He slows his movements, pulling back and away from you. His fingers easily slide out of you—your arousal already staining the sheets of the mattress. 

You’re breathing heavily when you finally look in his direction. You can see your arousal glistening on his chin, over his beard. You watch him push his boxers down, his manhood springing at attention. Clearing your throat, you slowly turn on to your abdomen as he stands upright. Before he could even say anything, you reach out and wrap your hands gently around the base of his length.

You glance up at him—there’s just something in the way he’s standing above you that causes a shiver to run through you. He reaches down, gently pushes your hair away from your face, thumb brushing against your jawline. 

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers. His eyes flutter for a moment when you slowly begin to stroke the base of his manhood. When you lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip, Joel moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as a low groan escapes his lips. 

You hum in approval, feeling his hand slowly push your head down against him. You get the hint—moving one hand from his base to rest on his hip as you take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him as your other hand strokes what your mouth can’t take. 

When you glance up at him, Joel’s head is tilted back—neck outstretched, veins more prominent, broad chest heaving up and down, and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He always looked so beautiful like this. 

Suddenly, you feel his fingers curl into your hair and pull you away from his slickened length—it glistens with your saliva. 

You whine in protest, trying to lean forward to wrap your lips back around his throbbing manhood, but he clicks his tongue and holds you away from him. 

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he admits honestly. “And tonight, I want you as many times as I can.” 

“Joel,” you bite your lower lip, hands moving up his chest. “Once is enough and—”

He shakes his head and pushes you onto your back. His strong arm wraps around your waist and slides you further up onto the mattress as he settles himself between your legs. Joel stares into your eyes and with his free hand, grasps his length to run his tip along the length of your sex. He gathers your arousal around his tip, growling lowly to himself as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Not tonight it isn’t,” he finally answers, pushing fully into you in one long and deep stroke. Joel groans when your walls envelope him—warm, wet, tight. He always loves it when he thrusts into you for the first time because it serves as a reminder of how perfectly you were made for him. He sees the way your face contorts into pleasure—mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed with a quiet whimper escaping your lips; he finds it so cute how you always try to hold back your sounds of pleasure. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, hands moving to come up to rest on his broad shoulders. 

Something in him snaps and there’s a primal urge that courses through his veins as he stares down at you. Joel takes your hands from his shoulders, gently placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders instead. At the new position, he feels himself slide further into your depths and it only urges him further. He pushes into you, his own hands resting at either side of you as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you. 

You’re folded in half—body beginning to tremble already as he picks up the pace in his thrusts. You had a very healthy sex life with Joel, but this time… this time it feels so different. It feels like he’s on a mission to prove something to himself. 

The sound of his skin smacking against yours echo the walls of the bedroom, your moans increasingly becoming louder and louder. Your hands move to his lower abdomen in an attempt to push him away because you feel the pressure creep up once more. He growls in response and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Close huh, baby?,” he growls.

“Joel, p—please,” you whimper, toes curling. You can’t move—hands pressed into the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his entire body pressing into you. It’s by far the most intimate position you’ve ever experienced and the way he’s slamming into you pushes you over the edge. 

“Joel!” You moan loudly, walls already clenching around him as your body trembles once another orgasm takes over your entire frame. 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, releasing your wrists to rest his own large hands on your hips. His own thrusts begin to falter as he feels his release begin to creep up quickly. He tries to think of something else, tries to make this last longer, but the way you’re tightening around him just pushes him over. 

He slams into you once, twice, three times before he releases into you. Joel lets out a guttural groan, the hands on your hips tightening its grip as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Slowly, Joel moves your legs from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist loosely and he looks down between your bodies to see his spend trickling out of you once he pulls out. 

You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him with a dazed look on your face. You gently reach up to touch his cheek, feel him lean into the pit of your palm as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Joel shrugs and gently pecks your lips. “Just wanted you, baby.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and stands from the bed to grab a wet and warm towel to wipe his release from between your legs. He watches you shiver against his touch, eyes fluttering when the towel brushes against your most sensitive areas and he smirks. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Sorry,” he grins proudly. Once you’re cleaned up, he sets the towel in the laundry basket and then falls back onto the bed with you. You lie on your side and he comes up behind you, arm draped over your midsection as he brings you flush against him. He peppers light kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too,” you tilt your head back against his shoulder and shut your eyes. “Made me tired,” you whisper, voice trailing off. “Didn’t even have dinner yet.”

He chuckles and shuts his eyes, holding you close. “How about we take a short nap and then I’ll feed you, hm? That sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” you reply with a small smile, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Maybe you should come home early more often,” you giggle.

Joel’s jaw tightens as the man’s words echo in his mind again. He doesn’t reply—just holds you closer to him and feels you relax in his embrace. 

Joel awakes almost an hour later—you’re still leaning back against him and his arm is still wrapped around you from behind. He can hear your quiet breathing, takes a peek in your direction to see you peacefully asleep. He feels you shift back against him and he’s suddenly aware of the lack of clothing that you both are wearing. 

His mind drifts momentarily, remembering the events that unfolded just an hour ago. He can still feel the anger bubbling within him, can still hear that man’s voice echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

His arm remains draped over your waist and his large hand soon encompasses your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. He hears you let out a quiet moan and Joel can feel his lower half begin to stir. He’s surprised that after an hour, he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

Slowly, Joel presses himself firmly against you from behind and moves his lips along the side of your neck. As he begins to pepper light kisses on your skin, his hand begins to massage your breast into the pit of his palm. He hears your breathing quicken and quietly—in that sweet voice of yours—you say his name. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Shh,” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe. Joel releases his hold on you and gently moves you to lie on your abdomen. He quickly moves to hover above you, his legs placed on either side of you. His large hands move to your backside, spreading your cheeks apart as he lets out a low growl at the sight of you. “Can’t get enough of you,” Joel growls. 

He grasps his hardening length, tugs on it twice before he presses his tip into your slit. Slowly, Joel pushes his hips forward—you’re already so wet and gripping the head of manhood as he pushes himself further into you. 

Your hand reaches back for him, trying to press against his lower abdomen to stop him from pushing any further. You’re already so sensitive—walls quivering as he grabs both your wrists to hold against your lower back. With one stroke, Joel fills you to the brim and he feels you begin to squirm against him.

“Joel!” you exclaim, eyes falling shut as you press your forehead against the mattress. He feels so much bigger like this and when he pulls his hips back—your walls sliding along his length—only to slide back into you, it causes a loud moan to escape your lips. 

“H—-how?” you mumble, feeling his hand release your wrists only to grip your hips, pulling you to prop yourself up on all fours. 

Joel doesn’t reply, the man’s words echoing in his mind with each thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

Your hands grip the sheets so tight because Joel’s never been this rough before. With each thrust, Joel’s jaw tightens. He grips the back of your neck and pushes you face down onto the mattress as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. His skin slaps against your own and you can feel the tight grip he has around your hips—knowing that there’s going to be bruises there later. 

“J—Joel!” you moan into the mattress, pushing back against him as you feel yourself begin to reach yet another orgasm. Your walls begin to tremble, can feel a rush of wetness between your legs and the pleasure racking through your entire body. 

“Fuck,” he finally moans—your walls tightening around his length in a tight grip. Joel leans over you, hand moving from the back of your neck to grab a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the mattress. He breathes heavily into your ear as his thrusts begin to falter. “Come for me,” he demands, thrusting into you that your body jerks forward. 

“I—I can’t,” you whimper. Your entire body is on fire and you’re so close to the edge, but you’re holding back… and Joel knows because his eyes narrow at your words and he leans down to gently bite down on the side of your neck.

“I said,” he groans, delivering yet another hard thrust. “Come for me.” 

With his free hand, Joel reaches down and begins to circle your clit. It’s just the right amount of pressure for you to reach your peak. Your toes curl and your eyes shut tight as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel smirks proudly, releasing his hold on your hair as he grips your hip instead. 

Joel delivers one, two, three thrusts before he releases into you. His eyes fall shut, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath, slowing his thrusts as your walls continue to milk every last drop. When he finally pulls out, Joel opens his eyes to watch his release slowly drip out of you and onto your inner thighs. 

He bites his lower lip and falls back onto the bed next to you, lying on his back as he glances over at you. 

“Well,” you whisper, looking over at him. “That was something.”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks with soft eyes—his big, brown, puppy eyes staring at you with concern now that his mind is clear. 

“Would you hate me if I said it wasn’t enough?” you tease, leaning over to peck his lips. “You promised me food and instead…”

“You were just so…” Joel bites his lower lip, his gaze raking over your frame with lust-filled eyes. “Inviting.” 

“Maybe I should sleep naked more often,” you grin, standing up from the bed to walk towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

“If you do that, ain’t nothin’ gonna get done,” he chuckles. Joel stands up as well, walking after you as he wraps his arms around you from behind. “What does my girl want to eat?” 

“Can you order a pizza?” you smile, wiping his release from between your legs. You toss the tissue into the trash and then lean back against him, head resting against his chest. 

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, turning his head to kiss your temple. 

You take note of the marks on your hips and the darkening spot on the side of your neck. You bite your lower lip and slowly turn in Joel’s arms, staring up at him as your arms wrap around his neck. “Gonna have these marks on me for a few days at least.”

Joel arches a brow, eyes glancing down at the mark on your neck before his gaze lowers to your hips. He blushes and rests his forehead against your own. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Don’t be,” you smile, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, small smile lining his lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m all yours, so let’s let the entire world know,” you tease. 

“Naughty,” Joel chuckles. 

“Only for you.”

Joel growls, hand moving to grasp your backside. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Mmm,” you smile. “I don’t think I can go another round,” you say honestly. “I’m sensitive all over and I’m hungry.”

Joel leans in, pecks your lips lightly as he pulls away slowly. “Maybe you just need some food because I am determined to have you one more time before we call it a night.”

“One more time?” you ask, eyes widening. “We’ve already had sex twice in the last hour or so and—”

“Then we’ll eat dinner and I’ll have you again,” Joel interrupts with a grin. “Don’t put anythin’ on. I’ll have pizza delivered.”

“You want me to walk around like this?” 

“Yes,” Joel growls. 

“Yes, sir,” you smile innocently. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Joel are in the kitchen with an opened box of pizza. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, but you’re completely naked—just like he said you should be. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island with a slice of pizza in hand, humming contentedly as you take a bite. 

“Good?” Joel asks with a grin, his own slice of pizza in his hand. 

“Very,” you smile, finishing your first slice of pizza in record time. You see Joel arch a brow and you just roll your eyes playfully. “I gained an appetite.”

Joel chuckles to himself and moves to stand between your legs. “You did, huh? Why’s that?” 

“I came like three times already, baby,” you tell him, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I really don’t think I can do any more than that. I’m already—My body’s just so sensitive.” 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. He moves his hands to your thighs and gently spreads them apart, looking between your legs to see your sex glistening. “How come you’re wet then, hm?” 

“Joel…” you whisper, setting the slice of pizza down as you wipe your hands with a paper towel. “I’m just—I’m always wet whenever I’m around you.”

“That so?” 

You nod, feeling his finger run along the length of your sex, gathering your arousal. You let out a quiet whimper, a shiver running down your body at the sensation. “Joel, baby…” 

“Always so ready for me, ain’t you?”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Joel,” you repeat. “I—If we have sex one more time, I won’t last long and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “Let me just take care of you, baby.” Joel lifts you off the counter and sets you down onto your feet. He leads you to the couch in the living room where he takes a seat and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them carelessly off to the side. He can already feel himself getting hard as he grasps his length and begins to stroke himself to full mast. “Come on, baby,” he urges, pointing to his lap with his chin. 

You nod and straddle his lap as your hands move to his shoulders. You slowly lower your hips to feel the tip of his manhood brush against you. Gasping, you lift your hips and stare into his eyes. Joel’s gaze darkens and he moves a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly as he pushes you onto him. Your walls—so wet—encompasses him tightly and he tilts his head back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. 

Joel feels so deep like this and you begin to roll your hips forward and backward. The hair at his base brushes against your clit and your body begins to tremble already. Your hips move so slowly because that’s all you can take right now, but Joel… It’s not enough for him. Even with your fingernails digging into his shoulders, gripping it so tight, Joel needs more. 

He moves his hands underneath you and lifts you slightly off his lap—just enough to give him space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel growls to himself as he looks up at you, your breasts bouncing as he thrusts upwards. 

“Joel!” you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around him as you press your front against him—holding onto him tightly. “Baby, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Joel whispers into your hair, eyes falling shut. “Always so wet for me, always so tight… Fuck, you were made for me.”

“J—Joel,” you whimper, feeling his hands move to your hips instead as you roll your hips against his own. You keep your tight hold onto him, gasping quietly as you feel your walls begin to tremble yet again. 

“Yes,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist to guide you forward and backward on his lap. Joel knows he won’t be able to last either—he’s surprised that he was even able to recover so quickly in the span of two hours to do this three times. 

“Love seein’ you like this,” he says quietly, feeling your arms unwrap itself around his shoulders. Joel feels your hands move to rest on his shoulders as you ride him like your life depended on it. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he grins, eyes scanning your face before his gaze lowers to your naked frame. 

“Joel, baby… I—” 

“I know,” he whispers. “Let go for me, darlin’. I got you.”

“Fuck!” you moan, head tilting back as you move your hips forward and backward quickly. Your body shakes with pleasure as the tightness builds and builds until you can no longer take it. You collapse into Joel, breathing heavily. 

Joel groans to himself as he grips your hips, guiding you along his length as he chases his own release. It doesn’t take long because when you whisper his name, he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach break until he releases into you for the final time that night. 

Joel rests his forehead against your own, feeling himself soften while still inside of you and he makes no move in lifting you off his lap. Even as he feels his seed trickle down to the hair at his base, Joel keeps you seated on his lap, strong arms embracing you. 

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you whisper with a quiet giggle. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a small smile. 

“Because I’m sure that I’d have trouble walking,” you answer. 

“You’re good for my ego,” he chuckles. 

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask honestly. 

Joel shrugs, staring into your eyes. “Nowhere.” 

“You’re lying.”

He sighs and finally asks, “Does our age gap bother you?” 

“What?” 

“I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him. “Our age gap means nothing to me…” 

“But it should, shouldn’t it?” 

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” You shake your head, lifting your left hand in the air and taking his left hand in your other one, showcasing both of your wedding rings. “We’re married now, baby. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Some– Some asshole made a comment and it just got to me,” Joel sighs. 

“Did this happen at work?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully. “Fired him and Tommy had to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid and I just—” he sighs. 

“Well, you just proved that age is nothing but a number, Joel. We had sex three times in the last two hours… And I’ve never had sex more than three times in one night so…”

Joel lets a small smile line his lips. “Never, huh?” 

You shake your head. “You’d be the first.” 

“And your last,” Joel finishes. “I’m sorry it got me,” he sighs. “I don’t usually care what other people have to say about our relationship, but for some reason… This just got to me.”

“If our gap bothered me, I wouldn’t have married you,” you say quietly, hands coming up to gently brush his hair away from his face. “I love you. All of you.” 

“Even if I’m some old man?”

“An old man wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did,” you smile. 

He chuckles and gently pecks your lips. “Love you so much, darlin’.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” Slowly, you stand from his lap with a quiet whimper as you extend a hand out for him. “What do you say we take a shower and then spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

Joel smiles lovingly in your direction and stands from the couch, taking your hand. “That sounds like a great way to end the night, baby.” 

[dollgxtz]

When Pleasure Calls

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: In the middle of sex, Sylus gets a business call...only he decides he doesn't want to stop ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, humiliation, use of evol, use of petnames like kitten, oneshot

AN: Okay so this is loosely based on a tweet I saw and it literally wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it....so here we are. I figured the best way to end my break and start being more active again was to start writing all the fics that won't leave my head. Enjoy!

Sylus was balls deep inside you, each thrust a raw, primal connection that left you both breathless. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his low groans, creating a rhythm that was all your own. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, keeping you both locked in the moment, lost to everything but each other.

It had been an entire week since you’d spent any real time together—a week that felt more like a year. Sylus didn’t waste a second making up for the lost time. What started as an innocent cuddle on his bed, his arm lazily slung over your waist, quickly shifted into something else entirely. One minute, he was tracing slow circles on your back, murmuring something about how much he’d missed you, and the next, the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken need.

Somehow, without either of you meaning to, that easy closeness morphed into a full-blown, heated mess of tangled limbs and stolen breaths. His lips found yours, first soft and teasing, then hungry and demanding, as if he needed to make up for every second you’d been apart. Before long, the room was filled with the sound of muffled laughter, whispered names, and the quiet creak of the mattress as you lost yourselves in each other.

His hands roamed over you with a possessive tenderness, fingers tracing the curves of your body, memorizing the lines anew with every pass. The weight of him above you was a comforting pressure, a grounding force as you surrendered to the tide of sensation, every thrust a wave that built the pleasure higher and higher, threatening to crash over you.

"Nghn, right there! Don't stop, please..." you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire, your fingers digging into his muscular frame as if your life depended on it. Sylus, attuned to your every need, knew he had found that sweet spot within you, that spongy, pleasure-laden tissue that sent sparks of delight through your body.

Just as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy, the sharp ring of his phone cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the intimate atmosphere. You froze, your eyes widening as you glanced at the illuminated screen, the unfamiliar contact name confirming your suspicion—one of Sylus's business associates.

Sylus sighed, his brow furrowing as he eyed the screen with a mix of annoyance and detachment. "I can call them back later. I’m busy right now."

That’s when it hit you—the mission. The Hunters Association’s urgent directive to recover the stolen protocore, traded away through shady backchannels. You had completely forgotten about it until now. The urgency surged through you like a jolt of electricity. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm. "Didn’t you say you were expecting a call about the protocore? This could be it. I need that lead for the Association. Answer it," you urged, your voice firm despite the sharp look Sylus threw your way.

He blinked, then smirked, the kind that was equal parts amused and incredulous. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my kitten barking orders at me," he said, his tone dripping with lazy charm. But to your relief, he reached for the phone anyway. "Alright, boss. Consider it a favor."

He pressed the screen and lifted it to his ear. His voice dropped into that cool, no-nonsense register you’d heard a dozen times before.

"Speak."

The man on the other end began to speak and you realized Sylus was still halfway inside you. Thinking the fun was over for now, you started to move out from under him, ready to let the moment pass. But Sylus wasn't done. His hand pressed you back down against the bed, and before you knew it, he was thrusting into you again, impossibly deeper this time, his cock filling you completely.

You struggled, caught between surprise and arousal, your body pinned beneath his, his cock completely filling you with each powerful thrust. You tried to silently plead for him to stop, embarrassed by the situation, but your words were lost in the quiet moans that escaped your lips as he pounded into you, his pace relentless. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, trying to will yourself to quiet down.

"I'll only meet tomorrow. That's firm" he said into the phone, his voice steady despite fiercely pounding and stretching your pussy. As if this took zero amount of effort from him. You tried to keep quiet, biting your lip and keeping your hands pressed to your mouth to stop the sounds from escaping, but it was hard. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through you, making it nearly impossible to maintain your composure.

You attempted to scoot back against the bed, seeking respite from the pleasure Sylus was delivering, but your efforts were in vain. With a swift and possessive motion, he wrapped his powerful Evol around your waist, pulling you back onto his cock, sealing your body to his, ensuring you couldn't escape the sensations he was about to unleash.

"Ah...ah..." you panted, your breath coming in short gasps as he thrust deeper, his cock seeking out that sensitive spot within you once more, very determined to bring you right to the edge.

Sylus kept talking, his voice smooth and calm, even as he moved inside you with a fierce rhythm. The phone call was just background noise to you, but you caught snippets of his conversation, the professional tone at odds with what was happening.

"Yes, I understand," he murmured between thrusts, his voice a soothing contrast to the pounding of his cock against your sensitive walls. "No tricks, or foul play. You should know how this goes by now."

You were struggling, trying to focus on anything but the way he was driving you closer to the edge. Each thrust felt like it was pushing you further into a world where nothing else mattered but the heat and friction between you.

Minutes ticked by as this humiliation continued. How much longer could you hold on? How much longer would he torture you like this? The question echoed in your mind, a desperate plea for relief as your body teetered on the brink of finishing.

Sylus's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and desire as he looked down at you, fully aware of the power he held over your pleasure. He knew exactly how close you were, how your body trembled on the precipice of release, and he relished the control he had, maintaining a casual conversation while pushing you to the brink.

A knowing smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the game he was playing—testing your limits, seeing how far he could take you while keeping up the pretense of a casual chat. His eyes held a challenge, daring you to surrender, to let go of your control, even as he kept his voice calm and composed, a stark contrast to the raw passion he was eliciting from your body.

He continued his steady thrusts, his movements purposeful, each one designed to drive you further into a world of pleasure, where resistance was futile, and surrender was the only option. Sylus took pleasure in watching you struggle, your body betraying your attempts to hold on, even as he maintained his casual conversation, a master of this sensual game.

"Yes, that will do," Sylus confirmed, his voice steady, his pace merciless as he continued to thrust into you. "I'll have my men prepare the meeting."

Your response was a muffled moan, your body arching against his, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you. "Mghn... Ah!" you cried out into your hand, your voice a mixture of surrender and ecstasy, your body trembling on the edge of release, the sensations too powerful to hold back.

Sylus, his body slightly glistening with sweat, paused for a moment, his thrusts slowing as he looked down at you with an intense gaze. His eyes, red and smoldering, held a silent command, a silent invitation for you to surrender completely. A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched you, his expression conveying a clear message:

"Go ahead, cum for me."

The tension inside you coiled tighter, every nerve screaming for release as he begun to pick up the pace once more. You bit down on your hand, trying to keep the sounds from escaping, but it was a losing battle. Sylus's thrusts were unrelenting, each one bringing you closer, until finally, with one last, deep push, he let go, pumping his hot and sticky seed deep into your belly just as he wrapped up his call.

The sensation was too much, too intense to resist. Your body tensed around him, shaking with the force of your orgasm, your muffled moans filling the room as you rode the waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"Alright. See you then," Sylus said, finally hanging up the call. He pulled out slowly, leaving you both breathless and spent, the hum of the conversation now just a memory drowned out by the echo of your shared climax.

You lay there, catching your breath, the remnants of your climax still thrumming through your veins. But as the haze of pleasure began to clear, irritation started to bubble up inside you. You propped yourself up on your elbows, shooting Sylus a look that could melt steel.

"Seriously?!"

He caught your gaze and simply chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that only fueled your annoyance. "Oh, don't act like you didn't like it," he said with a grin, clearly amused by your reaction. "How could I ignore a needy kitten in heat for a phone call instead?"

Your glare could have sliced through stone, but he just shrugged, unfazed by your anger. "Besides," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he chuckled, "I'm great at multitasking. I just secured you that protocore and made you cum while doing so. Shouldn't you be overjoyed right now?"

Despite your best efforts to hold onto your anger, the corners of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upwards into a reluctant smile. The heat rising to your cheeks was undeniable, a flush that had nothing to do with anger. His laughter was infectious, and before you knew it, you were chuckling too, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a playful roll of your eyes. "I'll forgive you this one time, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

Sylus grinned, clearly pleased with your surrender. "Deal," he said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved with that easy confidence of his, leaning down to scoop you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, carrying you towards the bathroom with a tenderness that were a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. His touch was gentle now, a soothing balm to the fire that had raged between you, and you found yourself relaxing into his hold, the last remnants of your irritation melting away as you settled into the comfort of his embrace.

[3hks]

How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[drdemonprince]

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. sukuna is shameless—not caring if anyone were to ever catch him righteously claiming ownership over his favorite concubine in the garden.

wc. 1.5k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. exhibitionism. size difference. dumbification \\ objectification. has two c.ocks. hair pulling. use of spit (yeah ik i wouldnt write for it but its sukuna). breeding themes. overstimulation. reader gets called ‘little girl, slut’. sukuna’s a menace and loves to create drama between his concubines

“shut up. i don’t care if they’re here or not,” sukuna grunts, tightening his grip on your fleshy thighs as his lower cock slams in and out your sloppy cunt without much thought. the sound of pruning shears cutting off branches is easily overwhelmed by the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin.

you feel sorry for those servants who’re just doing their job tending to the garden. none of them dare to look your way. they’re sweating, eyes solely focused on the branches they’re cutting, acting like they are not hearing the sinful moans and grunts in the distance. if they look, they’re dead. that much is known.

everything is blurry to you. all you can manage to do is let out a string of pleasure filled whines. your body is easily overpowered and held up against the harsh wood of the nearby wall. your thighs are spread in an awfully painful way, your knees up to your chest. quite literally folded in half.

“i said eyes on me, y’ fuckin’ slut,” sukuna barks. he does not have the patience today. you breaking the intense eye contact with him only worsens his mood. one of his veiny hands tug at your hair. the others hold you up—not allowing you to even think of getting back on your feet until your tight cunt is done milking him for what he’s worth.

you gasp and sukuna takes the chance to grab your jaw with yet another free hand. “open y’r mouth,” his hips do not still for even a second. they roll and ground against yours, the surrounding skin near his pelvis stained with your wet juices. he could smell it. just as nasty and dirty as he wants it to be.

you part your lips and keep them like that, not wanting to piss sukuna off even more. he grins at the sight of your red tongue instinctively rolling out like the obedient little girl you are. he spits right into your mouth, “swallow.”

you do so without second thought. the warm liquid trickles down your throat. sukuna watches in satisfaction, drilling into you until your insides are complete mush. you’re drooling over yourself already—clearly having lost control over your rationality.

you sniffle and try to hold onto sukuna’s biceps. your small fingers curl around the shape of them, nails digging into his flesh. every time you think sukuna’s finally letting up, he only increases his inhuman pace. “my l-lord, ‘s too much,” you cry out. your body could only handle so much pleasure before it’d break down. your pussy is convulsing around his girthy cock, feeling his other sliding back and forth over your sensitive clit.

the king of curses shuts you up with a hiss. his bottom set of eyes is focused on the impressive scene of your tiny pussy swallowing his cock so easily. he’s feeling proud of the fact that he’s molded you into the perfect concubine for him and his carnal pleasure.

sukuna has fucked you silly enough times to know how to get you under his spell. his fingers brush over your hard nipples, grabbing the squishy flesh of your tits as they bounce with each of his thrusts. he leans his head down towards yours. his rough, raspy voice makes your body heat up, “no, no. it’s never too much for my little girl, right? she can easily take ‘nother load f’me.”

your breath hitches and sukuna realises it worked. he knows just what to say to manipulate you into giving in. so he can fuck you senseless for how long he wants. you’re a sucker for the fact that he calls you his. that’s what you are—you’re his woman. only his and no one else’s. the claim of ownership makes your pussy clench.

“y-yes, my lord. i can take another, i can,” you breathe out, head swaying from side to side, not mentally able anymore to keep up with sukuna’s intense libido. yet, your body is still active, squeezing around sukuna’s dick as he promised you more of his precious cum.

the king of curses snickers, amused by just how fast you gave in. “that’s what i thought, hah,” he’s realised that his hold on you knows no bounds. you’re his little toy. the only one he wants to ravish these days. and the only one worth of carrying his seed.

you’re still thinking about the way he’s called you ‘his little girl’. it’s driving you closer to the edge. you start to get louder, completely ignoring your inner thoughts that begged you to have some decorum; to try and hide the fact that you’re getting slutted out in the courtyard.

there’s not much hiding it anyway since the servants have a clear understanding of what’s going on behind them. “mghh, please—please need more!” you mewl and sukuna listens. his red eyes darken with desire as you get into it. he loves to experience that lust driven side of yours. a complete opposite to your usual formal and shy self.

“louder, c’mon. let them know i’m fucking you good,” sukuna sneers, enjoying the mind games he is playing with you. you’re too cockdrunk to even notice. the them in his sentence refers to his other concubines. he knows that you’re secretly craving to get revenge on them and show them just how well you get dicked down by him every single day.

unlike them, who rarely get graced by his touch. that is, when you’re unavailable.

you do as told and increase the volume of your erotic moans, letting everyone around the estate know what you’re getting up to. not like anyone could interfere. sukuna wouldn’t dare let them live a second after.

“that’s it, yeah,” the sorcerer grunts and rams his length repeatedly into you, cursing at the way you’re gripping him so tightly. you’re so dripping wet that he slips out of you for a second. he moves his hips, angling them better to slam back inside of you.

however, you’re one step ahead. your shaky hand reaches down between your legs and you quickly guide his tip to your entrance, urging him to push between your moist folds again. “nasty fuckin’ girl,” sukuna scoffs at your desperation, though secretly thrives off it. he switches cocks and shoves the upper one into your cunt.

you gasp. you’re so used to him to the point that you could sense the difference between his dicks. the upper one has more veins and is a tad bit girthier. you hiccup and nearly choke on your own moans and spit from the change of pace and dicks. “ngh, ‘tis so deep, my lord—” you whine loudly and your hands move to hold your breasts, stopping them from painfully jiggling around in every direction.

sukuna hums in content as he continues his rough thrusts. he can feel his balls twitch and clench, ready to shoot his sperm all up in your womb like you deserve. though, he doesn’t want to end this moment too quickly. he wants to extend it.

“c’mere,” sukuna grumbles and stops pounding your poor, aching cunt. he stills his dick inside you and allows you to cling onto his tall stature, lifting you away from the wall. he silently urges you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you.

the robes of your kimono get left behind on the patch of grass near the wall of the main house. there’s a few droplets of white liquid that’s stained the grass, right where sukuna and you were standing at seconds ago.

you don’t think about anything anymore as you babble about how full you felt with his cock all the way in you. the fat tip brushes against your cervix with each step sukuna takes towards his next destination.

“keep talkin’ to me, doll. tell me how good it feels to take my cock,” he grins smugly as he carries your little body like a trophy into the main building—not paying mind to any maids who he passes by. they’re shocked by the sight of their lady in such a state, though are only able to bow at the two of you.

sukuna finally stops in front of the dinner table. the same table you always have dinner at with him and his other women. he places your back against the surface, big hands holding you down by your hips. “there we go,” he coos mockingly, seeing how you’re completely fucked out, yet still needing more of him.

the king of curses has his own twisted reasons of bringing you here. looking outside of the window, you notice how the sun is starting to set. that’s also the moment you realise his hidden motive.

the other concubines will sooner or later gather at the dining hall to eat supper. they’d expect a peaceful meal, though instead, they’ll be greeted by the sight of their dear lord screwing his favorite. it’ll be a painful blow to them.

which is exactly what the ruthless man wants to achieve.

sukuna licks his lips and all of his eyes focus on you solely, “gonna enjoy my dinner a bit earlier t’day, yeah?”

CR. STTORU 2024