#it's a well-hidden toggle too!

[returnofismasm]

It's been years, but I don't think I'll ever quite get over the guy on the Obsidian forums decrying the death of gaming because Pillars of Eternity Deadfire included an entirely optional Hide Helmets toggle.

[gutsby]

If You Like Piña Coladas

Pairing: Neighbor!Joel x Reader

Summary: You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Foodplay (i.e., Joel fucks you with a fruit popsicle). Girthy, unspecified age gap. Mentions of blood.

Note: Loosely inspired by ‘Escape (The Piña Colada Song)’ by Rupert Holmes…minus the part about mutual infidelity LOL

Word count: 8.0k

Joel Miller had been on his own for too long.

The least you could get him was a date. Or even just laid.

Likes: Long walks on the beach

Actually…he hadn’t seen a coastline in ten years, at least. You backspaced slowly and then lowered Joel’s phone.

What did that old grump like to do, anyway?

In all the years you’d been living next door to Mr. Miller, you hadn’t seen him take pleasure in much of anything besides mowing his lawn, rolling his eyes, and screaming like a fiend alongside your dad at whatever game was on.

Likes: College football. Quality time with friends :-)

Nope. Corny as fuck. Backbackbackback.

You wiggled your thumbs over the keyboard in muted concentration. You knew you didn’t have much longer. Joel was currently engrossed in one of the three things he loved most—mowing long, careful rows through his backyard—and you were supposed to be watching the season finale of the Mandalorian while he did. That had been the pretext of your visit, anyway. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d stepped outside and a little under thirty since you’d let your curiosity get the better of you and seized his phone, so you figured he’d be back soon.

You had to think of something witty, and do it quick.

Feeling inspiration strike a second later, you typed:

Likes: Piña Coladas. Getting caught in the rain. Making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape.

Perfect. Easy. Everybody loved that song in the ‘70s.

Having thus put the finishing touch on Joel’s profile, you leaned back and let out a contented sigh. You scrolled. Flicked through photo after photo of your very own hand-picked selection and smiled, feeling proud.

You’d started him off strong and suave with a picture from Tommy’s wedding, wearing a tux that fit him well. Then a cool, casual snap of him at a brewery. A photo taken out on the lake, life jacket snug and showing off a sliver of his broad, bare chest. Then a picture of him at your graduation—you made sure to crop yourself out—followed by a candid shot of him playing dress-up with his niece. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all the yet-unknown, lovely folks of Hinge would eat this shit up.

You set the radius to 100 miles. Beefed up the age range and gender preferences to include virtually every living soul over 30, tweaked a few more prompts to be cooler, then scrolled through his newly-minted profile. Again.

Oh, and— shit, wait.

Quickly, you toggled to the phone’s settings and disabled all notifications for Hinge. Then you grabbed the app and wrestled it somewhere deep within all the utilities ones that no one ever used. This had to stay hidden for now.

And, just as you stretched your thumb to make a couple last changes to his page, the back door thundered open.

Joel stumbled in, half-hunched. Rubbing his face with a towel and treading slow, heavy steps through the living room. With your heart about to burst from your throat and your impulses blown to shit, you panicked and crammed his phone in your shorts—like, in them.

Joel’s phone was just then settling above the groove of your ass when the man collapsed on the loveseat across the room. Instinctively, you drew your legs to your chest as Joel groaned and pulled the towel away from his face.

“The beast is at it again,” he declared, expression grim.

Before you could ask who ‘beast’ might be, he clarified:

“Marlene’s shit-for-brains labradoodle won’t quit diggin’ holes under my fence. Whole thing’s gonna fall if he—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had to tune out the rest of what he said; your butt squirmed against the sofa as your neighbor’s phone traveled perilously down and took partial lodging between your cheeks. Then stuck.

There was no way you were getting caught like this. One stray phone call or text and you would have the world’s most jarring ringtone buzzing straight up your ass. And a very uncomfortable conversation with Joel, to be sure.

So, while he droned on about the chaos being wrought by the paws of old Sparky, you nodded to the window.

“Aw shit, Mr. Miller…did he just…dig up another?” You feigned surprise as you stared over Joel’s shoulder at a hole that didn’t even exist. Then, when he’d jumped to his feet and growled ‘No fuuuuuckin’ shot’ as he made his way over to the window, you acted fast and pulled the phone out of your ass and stuck the old, cracked thing on top of the coffee table where it’d been last and stood.

Before he could see—or say—anything else, you seized your own phone and made a swift beeline for the door.

Shouting over your shoulder, probably sounding like a fucking lunatic but not particularly caring either way:

“DAD’SCALLINGMEGOTTAGOMISTERMILLERBYE.”

And you left. You had no desire to explain your baseless, bullshit observation or why his phone was currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat from your butt.

You’d never seen so many roses in your life.

Joel Miller could legitimately give the whole Bachelor franchise a run for its money with all the goddamn virtual flowers he’d been getting from his Hinge admirers.

It’d been a week before you’d finally gotten the chance to abduct his phone again and check his ‘likes’ for yourself. Honestly, you hadn’t been expecting much—Joel was hot, but more so in a niche-ish sort of DILF-sexy way. You figured he’d be more of an acquired taste, really.

Once you’d scrolled through just over a hundred different messages, you realized at once how wrong you were.

‘GNAWING at the bars of my enclosure.’

‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry, I mean, Daddy?’

‘Need you in a way that is concerning to feminism.’

‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.’

And that was truly just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the wild, chaotic, and horny messages Joel had received over the last week. You couldn’t believe it.

You got to firing off responses as fast as you could. Sitting cross-legged on the back porch while your dad, Joel, Tommy, and a dozen other neighbors were busy grilling burgers and soaking up as much sun as possible.

The only other person who hadn’t joined them was Tess.

She peered over your shoulder and fought back a laugh.

“That man is a fuckin’ menace to society, I swear.”

“No, we’re a menace to society. All about team effort,” you corrected her as you typed up a lightning-quick ‘Hey ;-)’ to each message, fingers moving fast.

“He doesn’t even know you’re doing this!”

“He will soon enough,” you mumbled. Grinning. Then, “Mission’s not over until that old man gets his dick wet.”

You’d probably made it through seventy or so replies and got to go back-and-forth with a couple hot prospects by the time you heard footsteps trailing up the steps—heavy ones that you instantly recognized as Joel’s. Without another word, you exited the app, turned the phone off, and chucked it to Tess, who placed it discreetly onto the porch railing where Joel had left it.

That phone really should have had a passcode on it.

Two weeks later, it did.

You saw it as soon as you’d slid your thumb up the screen in the comfort of Joel’s living room—over at his place pretending to be watching your Star Wars spin-off again—and you felt your heart jump up in your throat.

Your passcode is required to enable Face ID.

Since when the fuck did your neighbor have a passcode? Or even know how to make Face ID a thing? Or use it?

These questions and a dozen more were thrumming through your skull when you heard the screech of the back door once again. This time, instead of taking his sweet time on his yard work, Joel had only been gone five minutes. You swallowed a scream and did that dumb, reflexive thing you had before: shoved his phone in your shorts and thrust yourself back into the couch.

Practically shaking when Joel stepped into the room.

Of course, he wasn’t sweaty. His shirt wasn’t smudged with flecks of dirt or swaths of green from the grass outdoors, nor were his Wranglers the slightest bit muddied. He was perfectly clean in a plain white tee, jeans, and boots. You couldn’t help but notice how tight the short sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps, and then you realized it was because his arms were crossed.

Joel regarded you with a look as long and as careful as the rows he was supposed to be mowing out in the middle of his backyard right now, and he let out a breath.

“Guess what,” he said.

“What?” you squeaked.

Your eyes widened without meaning to, and when Joel plopped down on the sofa beside you, you felt a shiver pulse through your body. Joel stretched his big, wide, denim-clad legs out as he leaned back, and you had to force yourself not to jump when his knee struck yours.

“I’ve gotta brush up on my Gen Z lingo,” he announced.

Wh— okay? What the fuck?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, and feeling the slightest twinge of relief at this declaration, Joel started to tug something out of his pocket. It took you several seconds to see it, then a couple more just to work out what it was, then Joel was squeezing it. Flipping it open.

An old Motorola Razr? When did he get that?

“See, I, uh— met a girl last week,” Joel resumed, plainly careless in the way he fingered the thing in his grip.

Your chest tightened. Had he really?

“She’s a little on the…younger side. You might know her.”

Oh shit. Was Joel banging one of your friends?

You swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue. You pretended not to notice when he flipped the phone open and left it that way—starting to thumb through the keys to do something on it. You fought the urge to take a look.

To distract yourself, you watched his face instead. It was lax.

“She said somethin’ kinda funny last night, and I—” Joel paused to let out a breath of a laugh, and you nearly broke down to steal a glance at what he was looking at.

Narrowly, you resisted. And it was a lucky thing, too—the next thing you knew, Joel’s gaze was fixed right on you.

“Y’know what she said to me?” he asked.

“What?”

Joel blinked. You probably should’ve heard the click of a little button on the phone he was holding, but you didn’t.

You did feel the vibration of another phone under your ass a second later, though. That one was unmistakable.

That one was Joel’s.

Out of one more stupid, senseless instinct, you coughed. Loud. Like the momentary scratch in your throat might reasonably mask the sound and sensation of a small hunk of metal buzzing between your butt and the couch.

It didn’t, of course. You sat and stared at Joel as it rang.

Slowly, he brought the Razr to his ear. At one corner of his mouth, you could discern the first inklings of a smirk.

“Wanna answer that?” he hummed, nodding to your rear.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

You weren’t sure how you even had the strength to do it, but you reached back and plucked his phone out of your shorts. With your gaze still stuck to his, you answered it. Put it to your own ear out of habit—and a little bit of fear.

“Hello?” you said, stupidly.

“Hey.”

The second you heard Joel’s voice rumble out beside you on the couch and across the line, your heart dropped. Ironclad confirmation of all you didn’t want to believe.

You squeezed his phone even tighter and sincerely hoped the man couldn’t hear the wild, erratic beat of your heart as it throbbed and thudded in your chest. The noise was almost too loud for you to hear anything else, too fast-paced and frantic to discern another word until:

“Can you tell me what a ‘Hinge DILF’ is, darlin’?”

You rose to your feet, scarcely even realizing it.

You had to get off of that couch, had to get away from him and come clean, as calmly as you possibly could. The phone fell out of your grasp just as he ended the call.

“Shit— Mr. Miller— I-I-I-I can explain.”

Swiftly, suddenly, Joel recovered his phone from the floor. He set the other device aside and propped his feet on the coffee table, lounging a little more comfortably now that he could scroll the phone at his leisure. Before he did, though, he made a point to wipe the screen.

“Nothin’ I love more than ass sweat on my phone.”

Your cheeks heated to a thousand degrees.

You wished the ground below your feet would open up and swallow you whole. It was like you were floating somewhere over your own body, unable to move or speak. From this vantage point, and still paralyzed with fear, you could see Joel opening Hinge on his phone.

“Crazy how long the stuff sticks,” he mused aloud, starting to peruse his likes, “When you got up and high-tailed it outta my place that first day, I thought I must’ve been seein’ things—what with how wet my phone was.”

You would’ve closed your eyes in utter resignation if you’d had the strength. Joel had known this entire time.

The old man continued to scroll, cavalier as ever.

“I figured ya might’ve been havin’ some…personal time of your own on my phone—maybe your old man blocked PornHub on the home WiFi or somethin’—but then I kept diggin’ around…” As Joel spoke, his actions seemed to mirror his words, and he was really scoping out the app. Combing through profiles and roses and streams of old messages that you had sent, then shrugged to himself.

“…and all I found added up to jackshit,” he concluded.

This time, you managed to meet his gaze when he looked back up, but really, you hardly saw him at all.

Joel was smiling.

“I did see a text, though.”

He waved his phone, where a few messages were visible, though not legible, to you. You didn’t try to read them.

“‘Welcome to Hinge! Reply ‘C’ to confirm your phone number and get started,’” Joel rattled the first one off.

Of course you’d forgotten to delete the fucking text.

“And I know my memory’s all but gone to shit, but I didn’t remember ever replying ‘C’ myself, so then—”

“It was a joke,” you choked out, cutting him off.

Joel cocked a brow. He leaned even further back in his seat and crossed his feet. You were already vomiting words before he could attempt to get one out himself.

“N-Not a funny joke,” you clarified, voice shaking, “Fuckin’ stupid as shit, I just wanted to see— y’know— me and Tess were talkin’ ‘bout how hard it must be…in your…in your fifties— it’s just hard finding somebody.”

Joel didn’t know what you were trying to say, and his face showed it. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“So you think my sex life is a joke?” Mr. Miller quipped.

“NO!”

You hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. You quieted down:

“No. I didn’t…no. I just wanted to see who would…”

“…wanna fuck me?” he finished, blunt as ever.

If your face had been hot before, surely it was about to burst into flames right now. You didn’t get like this—not around Joel Miller, not around anybody—but here you were, chest constricting with humiliation and shame, wishing you were anywhere in the world but the place you were, and Mr. Miller was smiling, he was still smiling, and it was all you could do to just stand there and…stare.

And wince when tears started to prick at your waterline.

As if this day couldn’t get any more mortifying, you were actually crying in front of your neighbor, nose stinging and beginning to leak. Stupid, stuttered gasps leaving your lungs like you’d just learned to breathe yesterday, vision blurring the man in front of you and then dimming, momentarily, as you brought your hands up to your eyes and tried to shield this wretched display from his view.

You paced a couple hasty, blind steps away. You pressed the heels of your palms so hard into your sockets that stars started to dance behind your lids and a pain began to stab your brain. You continued to sob. It was just then dawning on you that you’d have to make a run for it now and never set foot near this man’s property again. You’d have to lock yourself away, never get to go to a barbecue again, probably face a restraining order from Joel and—

“FUCK!” you shrieked.

With all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, you tumbled over Joel’s end table and took a nosedive into the floor. Your hands had no choice but to fly out in front of you in an effort to break your fall, and of course, they had to land on a lone, stray beer bottle on the ground.

One lovely little container of Corona Extra went splintering under the weight of your whole body, and briefly, before the thing exploded beneath your palm, you swore you could’ve heard a tiny, self-righteous voice:

‘¡La Vida Más Fina!’

Fuck you, Corona.

You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. Even if the bottle had managed to roll far enough to nick just the edge of your hand, slicing a minuscule strip of skin beneath your thumb, you still wanted to cry even harder. You looked pathetic, crumpled up beside this man’s couch with your wrist pinched between your fingers and your tears paving two steady streams down your cheeks. Hedged in by a field of shattered glass, you cast a look around yourself and whimpered. Then cursed. And cried.

You heard the shards around you crackle and snap even more when a pair of boots stepped in and crushed them.

Joel made easy work of your deadweight frame—your body hanging limply in his grip as he hoisted you up to your feet. Your vision was still as bleary as it had ever been, nose running and stinging and still struggling to take in breaths, but Mr. Miller’s hold was steady. He guided you into the kitchen and straight over to the sink.

Water ran. Wounds stung. A couple more sobs clawed out of your throat while Joel held your hand under the faucet, dabbed a paper towel across your hand to dry it off, then disappeared, momentarily, to retrieve what you assumed would be a first aid kit from the other room.

Instead, Mr. Miller returned with a fifth of Maker’s Mark. You eyed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and grimaced.

“N-Nuh-uh,” you blubbered, emphatic, “No way, man.”

“Uh, yes way, man,” Joel mimicked your voice, nose scrunching for dramatic effect as he elevated the pitch, “Like, you totally need this antiseptic so you don’t die.”

“I don’t s-sound like that!”

“I don’t so-o-und like that!”

Of course your neighbor couldn’t be assed to show an ounce of compassion to another person for more than two minutes. He drew closer with the whiskey. When he grabbed your wrist, you huffed and shook your head.

“That’s gonna hurt. I don’t want it.”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river.”

Though as soon as he’d said it, the man winced a little. Maybe that had been a bit too harsh. You sniffled hard.

“Fuck you, Miller— I-I was doin’ you a favor!” you spat.

Tears and snot becoming the fuel for part of your newfound indignation, you shot Joel a look and scowled. You wrenched your hand out of his grip and made a point to rebuff the bottle of liquor as you moved back, shaking your head again. Mr. Miller stood there and watched you.

“Only time you ever leave this fuckin’ house is when you’re hangin’ out with my dad or your brother, you haven’t got shit else to do around here but mow that fuckass lawn and jerk off— I was tryin’ to help you out! Get you laid like any normal guy would like, but no, no— you’ve gotta go and be the world’s biggest ASSHOLE about it, just like you are with everything else. I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you were and weren’t remorseful at all.

You were sorry you’d gotten caught, ate shit over a side table and got your palm fucked up by a bottle of beer.

You weren’t as sorry that Joel seemed to be regarding you as a joke now—something to tease and poke fun at. Trying to pour his makeshift disinfectant over your cut and force you to obey his orders because you were just too dumb to figure it out yourself, then mock your voice.

Then watch you with tightly knit brows, eyes scanning your face with a skepticism that was almost palpable.

Condescending old fuck.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that?” you seethed. Emotions running high—and humiliation momentarily usurped by anger—you stared him down and dared him to speak. You didn’t care what he thought of you now.

If it had been in your interest to care, you probably would’ve looked a little harder at what the man’s body language was communicating to you in the meantime. What his mouth was evidently loath to say, his hands and feet hardly displayed the same reticence: he set the bottle aside and stepped closer to you. He stared back.

It wasn’t until he’d approached near enough, had closed the space between your body and his with barely more than an inch or two to spare, and glowered down at you, face frozen with a frown, that your brain got the hint that he might not be the type to chicken out. Or back down.

He reached behind you and opened a cabinet.

“A favor,” Joel echoed, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to replicate your intonation as he said it.

He’d just marginally checked his douchebag predilection, was closing the cabinet door beside your head and was starting to rock back on his heels, when a little cylindrical glass swung low in your line of vision. Joel held the tumbler loosely, then lifted it and pointed with his pinky.

“You,” he said, accusing, “fuckin’ suck at those—favors.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight of a slight, impish smile just then starting to frame the sides of his mouth. The featherlight grip he kept fastened on the glass, the ease of his stance, even the jab of that stupid, rough finger, still pointing at you, all bordered on nauseating. You fixed him with a pitiless look as he leaned in again.

And when his knuckles brushed your side, you tried not to flinch. You arrested his gaze without a word and let the smug, sun-tanned, sweet-as-shit-pie son of a bitch have his fill ogling you back and closing in on the bottle.

“What? Having half the tri-county population on Hinge ready to suck you off isn’t really your style?” you jeered.

Joel popped the cap and poured his drink. He shrugged.

“They ain’t you.”

As casual as if he’d just told you the weather forecast for the week ahead, his favorite place to eat, or the mundane specs on a construction project he’d been saddled with for months. Nothing of note. Nothing unknown. Just a routine admission of truth that sent your head reeling.

“You wh— w— well that’s—” you stammered, equal parts astonishment and exasperation as he continued to feed you steady, unrelenting doses of that look: “GROSS!”

You were standing stock-still, forced to watch that blip of a grin morph into a full smirk, slowly. He had to be joking.

“You are…fucked in the head, Miller. That’s not funny.”

Now you were the one pointing. Joel was drinking.

“—and I’d never in a million years even think—”

The side of your palm began to throb. It bled.

Blood was trickling down your wrist, roaring like thunder in your skull as your heart thudded away, impatient.

Impatient.

Impatient, impatient, impleeeeeeeeease fuck me, Joel, PLEASE!

Your libido a filthy, rotten traitor to all the rest of your better sense, you continued to stand there and suffocate on words like something akin to acid reflux in the throat. Your thighs snapped together, your back collapsed with equal force against the rigid set of cabinets behind it, and slowly, almost excruciating this time, you felt the pulse between your legs give way to a bout of warmth.

That cockhungry slut governing your bodily functions was actually getting wet for this asshole, and you were powerless to the effects of her wily, DILF-lusting ways.

“Gross,” you uttered out loud, again, reflexively—face overlaid with a look of horror as the heat began to pool.

And, as though the man had been endowed with the gift of infrared vision, or else just an external thermostat to gauge how hot you’d gotten between your two sweating legs, Joel brightened. His gaze flirted down to that soft, unseasonably tepid spot with a knowing look and then—

“Gross,” he parroted back. The smile behind his eyes said he wasn’t disgusted at all, just teasing some more.

When he pinched your wrist to get back to the business of blotting out blood with a paper towel, he kept that smug look painted across his creased, ancient face.

“‘S’that why ya made a Hinge for me? ‘Cause I’m gross?” Mr. Miller applied pressure to the still-bleeding cut, then directed your other hand to hold the paper towel in place.

You shook your head.

“No,” you started, trying not to wince before he turned. Again, the man ambled out of the kitchen, only to come back momentarily—finally—with a long-awaited bandaid.

“I mean…yeah, you’re a perv, but that’s beside the point.”

Joel exhaled a little harder through his nose. He pressed the underside of your palm again, ensuring the bloodflow had stopped, then swapped the napkin for the bandage. The adhesive might’ve been in place for two seconds before he was retreating again; this time, to the fridge.

“Then what was the point?”

Joel yanked one door open. You glanced over your shoulder to the one that led out to the back porch.

The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to go.

Go.

GO!

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure why you’d decided to make Joel the profile in the first place. Your curiosity, for one thing, had been one hell of a persuasive motivator to getting you scrolling on Joel’s behalf, but why did you care one way or another if your neighbor was drowning in pussy or enduring Sahara desert-levels of dick deprivation at his big age? It sure as fuck wasn’t your business to care, and nothing about Joel Miller had ever intrigued you consistently enough to venture an inquiry about his personal life before, so…

“Why?”

Joel was looming overhead again, the force of his presence like a fist through your chest. In an effort to steady your breaths, you turned your gaze away from his.

“I should go.” You couldn’t have dodged his last question more clumsily, or pathetically, if you’d tried, “It’s…late.”

Outside, the midday sun was still high in the sky, and there was nowhere in the world you had to be, Joel knew.

“Okay,” he said at length.

Then he leaned in closer and held something out.

“At least take one for the road, alright?”

And he was smiling, almost kind.

You looked down and—shit.

There it was, clear as day: a creamy piña colada popsicle.

The sneaky, conceited motherfucker had remembered what you’d written in his dating profile. You winced.

You accepted the cocktail popsicle without a word.

‘Thanks’ or ‘You’re a fucking pig, Miller’ likely would’ve sufficed for a farewell on any account, but by then, you were far too shell-shocked—and frankly, incredulous—of everything that had just transpired over the course of the last thirty minutes. You didn’t thank Mr. Miller, nor insult him by likening him to swine or any other thing; you left.

Your feet carried you fast out of his house.

Down the steps of his back porch, across pristine, power-washed concrete, past seemingly endless beds of hibiscus blossoms, marigolds, cape plumbago, and those god-awful periwinkle plants—who the fuck enjoyed gardening in a heatwave, anyway?—you practically sprinted away in a fugue state until the toes of your shoes hit the edge of your lawn, then you stopped.

“FUCK!”

You’d forgotten your phone.

It felt as though your body were turning in slow motion, and for a second, you seriously considered abandoning the device altogether and begging your dad for another. Then you set your sights on the wide, uninviting exterior of the back of your neighbor’s house, the place you’d just been hauling ass to escape, and almost rolled your eyes.

Joel was leaning back against the frame of his open back door, arms crossed, expression smug as he watched you.

It was extraordinarily difficult to throw a half-decent punch at a man while wielding a popsicle in your hand.

“Give it back!” you barked.

“Give what back?” Joel grinned, easily side-stepping what struck him as neither a punch nor a slap—in fact, the hit never struck him at all. He laughed as it missed.

“You know what.”

Of course, you’d gone back. Of course, Joel had tried to play dumb and pretend like you’d never left your phone behind at all. And of course, he hadn’t budged until you’d threatened to shove your left foot so far up his ass his dentist would be picking toes out of his teeth for weeks.

‘Violent little thing, ain’t ya?’ Joel had replied, chuckling.

Then, when he’d attempted to brush you aside with a patronizing wave of his hand and an admonition to run on back to daddy and quit buggin’ me, all bets were off. You’d aimed right for center mass and nearly dropped your frozen treat with how hard you’d shoved his chest.

That was how the conversation had started.

That was how the so-called ‘altercation’ had come to be—Joel easily swatting you off and indulging you no further than to chuckle and laugh and taunt you like an older brother who was faced with a sibling half his size—and all the while, your injured hand was throbbing again. White, sticky rivers of melted popsicle now trickled down your wrist instead of blood, and you were just as pissed.

“Listen—” Joel began, catching a fist meant for his face.

“Gimme my fuckin’ phone, Miller!”

“—you—”

“Can go to hell.”

“—owe me.”

“Owe you?!”

You stopped. Your weak, one-handed assault was halted just long enough to peer into Joel’s eyes, and the gaze that met yours was solid. Sincere as you’d ever seen it and blinking slow as the chocolate browns of his irises moved lower over you. Whether they were drinking you in, sizing you up, or merely plotting your demise by calculated turns, you could have been no more certain, or prepared to hear, what came out of his mouth next:

“Wanted to do me a favor, didn’t ya? C’mere.”

And the next thing you knew—or felt—was one thick finger hooking into your belt loops. One swift tug in his direction, another light push toward the old wood railing to your side, and then more fingers crowding in, crawling over, seizing the coarse denim material and pulling hard like the thing was the single most annoying impediment.

“Take these off,” Joel grunted.

You were too stunned to move. Even breathing felt like a chore, every last sense elevated to impossible heights, it wasn’t surprising at all when Joel just went and did it all himself. In a blink, your shorts were yanked down and then dropped to your ankles, your legs guided backward in shuffled steps, and then, nearly tripping in the fabric at your feet, you fell back, ass smacking the flat railing. You winced at the warm, knotty texture of the cedar beneath you and, out of habit, shot the old man a look.

Joel cocked a brow in response, likely already knowing what that glare from you was intended to convey, and instead of giving voice to any words himself, just sank.

Lower and lower and lower, until his knees were the only things holding him upright on the floor before you and his hands were pressing—melting—into your thighs.

Audibly, his kneecaps cracked.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

While Mr. Miller’s mouth moved dangerously close to a place you should’ve been appalled to see him go, all you felt capable of doing in that absurd moment, it seemed, was laugh. You gripped the thick white column beside you, scooted back slightly until you were in a comfier seated position, then snagged your lower lip between your teeth to contain the sound, but it was of no use.

Joel was both drooling and scowling between your legs.

“That funny, huh?” he managed in a low, ragged breath, “Sound’a some crackin’ joints on a man as old as me?”

“Yeah,” you said. Smug, for once.

Admittedly, any other normal person in your position would’ve been concerned with about a million different, more pressing issues—namely, your neighbor and dad’s best friend sticking his face between your legs—but really, after all the frivolity, commotion, and fucking insane behavior the two of you that day, it was like your brain had logged off and left the body to its own devices.

You didn’t mind that for right now.

When Joel’s tongue grazed the space between the cusp of your panties and inner thigh, you really didn’t mind.

Fuck it. If this was the favor he’d wanted after all, so be it.

As if reconsidering the foray of his mouth for the time being, Joel tilted back a little: just far enough to get his hands on your underwear and start tearing those down your hips too. One short, hot puff of air from his lips was a bliss unto itself, and your knees instinctively kicked up. With the thin white fabric barely halfway down one calf, you hooked your ankle over Joel’s shoulder and cursed.

“My daddy’s gonna kill you for this, Mr. Miller.”

And, for what felt like the thousandth time, Joel smiled.

Bigger this time, as if to show he didn’t really care at all what the man next door was liable to say or do about his present endeavor as long as he got to stay. You let him.

He pressed a kiss to your slick, puffy lips and hummed.

“Fine by me.”

Without another word the tip of the man’s tongue glided up the length of your slit and curled in, drawing your arousal between his lips in a hungry sort of kiss, and then sank even deeper. Going nose-deep in just one go, the old man looked positively obscene burying his face so far inside; his features alone a cruel, unseemly sort of fixture between legs as smooth and supple and warm as yours—how did a man so many years your senior get to be so lucky?—and somewhere further, in the darkest recesses of your mind, the sight sparked desire. A hunger, really.

Seeing that silver, stubbled chin getting drenched in your wetness, the weathered lines of his face growing even deeper with each new movement of his tongue, the strain in his neck with muscles that were firm and taut and so visibly aged with decades and decades of life—

You adored it.

A man Joel’s age never looked more out of place and still somehow perfectly fit for the space between your thighs.

You lowered the hand that was cradling your popsicle, braced your weight against the railing with the other, and then pressed on either side of his skull with your legs, quiet moans tumbling one after the next off your tongue.

“‘S’all for me?” Joel breathed, licking and suckling kisses along your clit, “This sweet, needy pussy’s all mine?”

“All yours.”

You scarcely recognized the sound of your own voice. Your legs were shaking. Though you loved to see him make you come undone, piece-by-piece, you also couldn’t bring yourself to stare a second longer, stimulation too great and his tongue too good.

If he kept going at a rate like this, you’d have no choice but to cum, and you didn’t want to be done just yet. Or ever. You refocused your gaze to look down and tell him as much, when your mouth fell open around a gasp, rather than words, and the weight in your hand fell away.

Swiftly, Joel took the popsicle in his own grasp and slid it down to the vicinity of his lips and tongue, now grinning.

The thing was half-melted by now, having sufficiently soaked half your forearm and leaving a vague, sugary aroma in its wake, but it was still intact. Still unlicked—unlike you—and still perfectly cool and light and long. The off-white hue was almost taunting in the way it winked and caught rays of the sunlight shining behind you, and as the man slid it even lower, you jumped back.

“Joel,” you hissed.

“What?” he hummed.

“That’s not—” You blinked, swallowing a moan.

“Not what?”

One warm, callused hand pressed the tip of the frozen thing to your bundle of nerves—the first contact it had had since Joel’s tongue—and you let out a low whine.

Even after all that time in the sun, the popsicle seared your soft, wet, aching parts with a biting cold you’d never thought possible. It sent waves of a strange, trembling pleasure coursing through your lower half and left your head with no choice but to moan. And fist Joel’s hair in a vice-like grip when he angled the wooden stick lower.

Suddenly, the white, sticky head slipped from your clit to the rim of your yet-untouched entrance, and that made your muscles leap to attention once again. You cursed.

“Not what, honey?” Joel pressed, with affection—and as he did, sank the tip of the popsicle deeper inside you.

“Th— that’s not—” You were shaking your head, racking your brain for any trace of the English language and failing miserably, “Not…doesn’t…g-go there, fuck.”

Joel sank the pretty, dribbling popsicle another inch inside your pussy and sucked a whistle through his teeth. If your senses weren’t as raw and utterly shot as they were, you likely would’ve seen the expression on his face transform from one of pleasure and amusement to awe, eyes darkening at the sight of your hole opening wider.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he cooed, voice low.

Another couple soft utterances of ‘Joel,’ and your legs only parted wider. Free to grip his hair, the railing, the column beside you, or just the insides of your own palm as the icy sensation sank inwards and into your body, you whimpered. Your hips, instinctively, bucked toward the source, and you heard Joel’s groan join your sounds.

He withdrew his new toy just far enough to make you mewl for him again, then drove it deeper. With the friction of that, a stream of white went trickling out.

Joel couldn’t help himself; he flattened his tongue against the stream and licked you clean from the spot where he’d split you open to the cusp of your clit. He circled that place over and over, worked the object in his hand even further inside and back out again, then, getting a taste of your arousal with the white, wet, sticky-sweet juices starting to mix together, he moaned.

It was a guttural sound, something just shy of the ‘feral’ demarcation but at least ten steps ahead of desperate. You relished the gruff, throaty sound reverberating from his lips to your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around it and for him, and were just about to throw your head back and grind your hips even harder when it stopped.

Joel stopped. He started to get up.

Quickly for him, but slow as molasses from your point of view, the man straightened from his place on the hard wooden floor and expelled a breath. His chest heaved, and his torso twisted to one side, momentarily, to get the strain out of his back as best he could. From where you sat, the spattering of grey in his beard seemed to glisten even brighter with the sheen of your arousal now sticking in it. He wiped his chin and reached in between your legs.

“Got any favors left in ya, sweet pea?” he smirked.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t sound like a question at all, and didn’t appear to be intended that way, as the next second had Joel pulling the largely-spent popsicle out of your slick and straight into your mouth. He didn’t inquire whether he could push it down on your tongue and make you taste your own cunt on the thin wooden stick, but the smile on your lips assured him that was fine by you.

Nor did he ask for your permission to flip you around, bend you over his porch railing, and take your hips in his hands. You were still sucking down the last traces of sugar and citrus and a vaguely tangy taste when you felt the head of something else prod your soft, wet folds.

Much bigger—and warmer—than the thing that had breached you before, Joel nudged at your hole with the tip of his cock, coated the head of it in light, gentle circles, and sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to ask, and you didn’t need to answer; he just parted your walls with the force of one steadying thrust, and the pulse of that sharp, dizzying pleasure was back in an instant.

Shared this time, and manifesting in sounds from you and Joel alike: you gritting the stick between your teeth and managing muffled cries of his name and whatever expletives you could scream, Joel with ragged breaths.

For a man who ostensibly hadn’t fucked since the Clinton administration, he was off to a pretty good start.

Joel gripped your hip even tighter and started to saw his cock in and out of your dripping, pliant hole, his other fist finding purchase in your hair for more leverage. His thrusts were shallow enough at first to get you used to the new stretch, and you could feel him making space in a way no man’s girth ever had before. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it had come to settle into a mix of guilt, rigid composure, and pussydrunk pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured behind you. Then, groaning, “Good fuckin’ girl, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that.”

You felt a slap on the ass and the speed of his thrusts pick up in turn. Your mouth fell open in a moan, and the stick on your tongue almost slipped out of place when, shortly, Joel leaned over your body and pulled you back. He snagged the popsicle stick between his teeth just in time to get your back flush with his front—in perfect position to get fucked against the nearest column.

Breaths coming out in short, ragged grunts in your ear, Joel teased the side of your face with the stick, then nudged it back in your mouth. You sucked it softly.

“One more favor, baby?” he panted against your cheek.

You nodded, not knowing what it was but that you wanted to be the one giving it. Joel pulsed inside you.

With every stab of his cock, every string of your wet, messy, combined arousals making the most profane noises imaginable between your body and his, you were squeezing him tighter and teetering on release. Joel’s hand snaked down between your legs, and just as the head of his cock nudged against that spot, you keened.

“Any favor?” Joel groaned and nipped at your earlobe.

The heft of his stomach and chest made for a warm, sturdy place to start rocking your hips, greying peach fuzz at the base of his belly a small comfort as you writhed against his body and whined that you’d do anything, anything he wanted, as long as he let you cum.

Joel’s middle finger found your clit, and you nearly screamed at the welt of pleasure coming to a head. Again, the popsicle stick tumbled out, but neither one of you could be bothered to try and keep it in this time.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

The man behind you didn’t even attempt to conceal his grin as he leaned closer, hugging your body to his while he circled your clit and fucked you harder, lips straying every now and then to press a kiss on your shoulder. He plunged his cock deeper and was met with a squeezing, leaking mess trickling down his length and onto his balls, growing louder with each new wet slap against your ass. The old man was a tease, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

“Wanna fill you up,” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside?” you murmured.

You were barely able to tilt your chin to him, but when you did, he held it—made you look him in the eyes and, for once, give your unequivocal permission to do it then.

And you did.

You were startled to find Joel’s lips crashing against yours in the next second, mouth overwhelmed with the remains of your own taste, his tongue, and a series of relentless, hammering thrusts. It was only a matter of moments, then, before your resolve gave way and his followed suit, and the waves of pleasure between you both manifested in ropes of sticky, hot cum painting your walls. Joel held you closer, as though needing to feel his seed as he fucked you through it, groaning when he felt it start to move with each sharp, stuttered thrust.

You panted in his mouth coming down. You kissed him back. You almost couldn’t believe the sensation between your legs, soon to come dripping out and undoubtedly bound to make a mess all over the floor of Joel’s porch.

Equally unbelievable was the fact that you’d just fucked your neighbor in broad daylight, outside, with Marlene’s house directly to your left and your own on the right.

You stared out at the sprawling expanse in front of you—Joel’s impeccably kempt yard, one of the reasons why you were standing where you were just then—and, as you’d found yourself before, you felt the urge to laugh.

Not on account of Joel’s old, ailing knees, this time.

Clearly, the man still trying to catch his breath behind you suspected that that might’ve been the case, though, because you felt him shift his weight and grunt, lightly.

“What’s so funny? My knees crack when I cum, too?”

You could feel the smallest of scowls start to take shape, muted momentarily with kisses that he pressed on your cheek, and others, still more teasing, down your neck.

You let him, unfazed and still giggling. Then pointing.

It seemed Joel was loath to detach his lips from your neck—or his cock from the place he’d just stuffed full—but when you lifted your finger to indicate a direction toward the side of his backyard, his senses perked up.

There, along the white picket fence between his yard and Marlene’s, was the furry, merciless, lawn-destroying labradoodle that had been plaguing Joel’s life for years.

The man was out of you in an instant. He yanked his jeans up even quicker, tucking his dick back, clumsily, into its place in a fit of rage, then cupping his hands:

“WILL YOU FUCK THE HELL OFF, SPARKY?!”

[inkedtae]

between roar and whisper ⇾ bgc. [M]

⎡ Your passion for him toggles between a roar and whisper. He’s not satisfied until your eyes roll. ⎤

⌁ pairing; slytherin!chan x gryffindor!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; hogwarts au, pwp, e2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 9.4k

⌁ summary; the princess of gryffindor has no business lurking around the dungeons, other than to destroy the demon of slytherin that is… or so she thought…

⌁ warnings; mentions and brief depictions of an abusive relationship, mentions of alcohol, dom!chan, brat!reader (reader is thicc), infidelity, sir kink, size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, bondage, humiliation, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, clit worship, fingering, choking, light rimming, squirting, gagging, spanking, tit slapping, cum play, spit play, anal play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

» a huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this amazing banner for me, and my amazing beta-readers, who i owe a million hugs to for making this fic readable, jen ( @anobodyslove​ ), stardust ( @skzdust​ ), and nephele ( @jisungchan​ )

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

Lumos.

The tip of your sycamore wand glows against the dungeon walls. It smells of murky roses and still saltwater. Your face scrunches in disgust as the bitter notions settle upon your tongue. You resist the urge to gag, walking down the long corridor. You duck under hanging cobwebs and try to ignore the scurry of rats along the edge of the stone floors.

Did he guide you down hidden tunnels as some sick joke?

“Meet me by the prefect’s lavatories around midnight,” he’d said, tonguing his cheek and raking his gaze over your frame.“We’ll discuss a truce then.”

You’re not interested in a truce. You just need to obtain proof of his misconduct and abuse of power. After tonight, the Headmistress will think twice about dismissing your accusations of cheating and bribery. Maybe, she’ll stop turning away your owls as well. You’re not certain you can stomach the humiliation of receiving another returned letter in the middle of the crowded common room.

It all ends tonight.

The lying, the cheating, the complete disregard for anyone but himself— you’re tired of it. You just want to experience one day without students nagging you in the common room or great hall or even during class about his destructive behaviour. Despite telling the students countless times to approach the prefects and head-pupils, the responsibility always gets tossed back to you. The prefects claim they can’t risk their positions by making serious accusations against a fellow member of their staff.

“You’re the only one with a credible enough reputation to be taken seriously,” Nayeon, the head-girl, once told you.

You might just scream at the next person who says that to you.

The end of the corridor presents a ladder. As you are about to take hold of the wood, a black, fury insect makes itself known. You slightly squeal at the sight, jump back.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you mutter before flicking your wand to magically shake the spider, and any other crawling critters, off. Begrudgingly, you begin your ascent up the ladder.

Alohomora.

The latch unlocks. You grunt, pushing open the door. It falls onto the floor with a loud thump. You freeze, shoulders to your ears, hoping no one has heard. When only silence replies, you climb through with a soft grunt. Kicking the door shut, you brush off your clothes and resist the urge to shudder at the thought of one of those bugs finding themselves on you.

“You can just take those off,” a deep voice says, tone dripping in arrogance.“You won’t need them in here.”

Moonlight seeps through stain-glass windows, cascading upon an all too handsome face. However, the room is primarily illuminated by a warm glow of candles levitating above. Under the orangish flicker of the lights, he sits in a grand foam-topped bath. His wet hair is slicked back, eyes dancing with mischief as he tilts his head to observe you. You swallow thickly at the sight of his bare chest and those strong arms, leaning back against the rim of the porcelain green tub.

Vermilion vanilla and smoked sandalwood saturate the room, emerging from bubbles that float out of the foam and burst around you. The sweet taste is on the tip of your tongue. Intoxicating your senses, the scent ripples into your subconscious, unravelling a memory from Potions class weeks ago.

Professor Hylithe purposely paired Gryffindors with Slytherins, forcing you to sit by him despite your many protests.

He flashed that same smirk, cocked that same brow and teased, “I won’t bite,” only to lean in and whisper, “unless you ask nicely.”

The moment he inched closer that musky vanilla scent invaded your senses. Your eyes watered; breath almost hitched as you held it. Still, you didn’t want to exhale it too soon, wishing to inject it into your bloodstream.

The same urge tugs at your senses now, electrifying your nerves with a desire to lean into his masculine scent of comfort and stability.

“Don’t be shy,” he goads, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You roll your eyes. “Get your ass out here, Bahng.”

“I'd rather bang in here.”

You can tell by the smirk playing on his lips he’s proud of himself. You fight off a chuckle, sucking in your cheeks.

“You picked now to bathe?” you ask as you climb up the steps of the bath.

He shrugs, averting his gaze to twirl his fingers between the bubbles. “It’s hard to find the time when I’m constantly being summoned to the Headmistress’s office.”

So, she has been getting your owls. You try to mask your relief, crossing your arms over your chest. His attention lingers on the gesture. You knew there was an ulterior motive to his sudden talks of peace. If you continue to expose his impropriety, he might be revoked of his prefect privileges.

“Maybe if you stopped being an ass and started following the rules, instead of bending them for your cockroach friends and girls you’d like to bed, you would be able to fit whatever you want in your schedule.”

He smirks. “Am I sensing a hint of jealousy?”

You mock his smile. “I have a boyfriend.”

Rolling his shoulders back, he breathes a humourless chuckle. “Right, what was his name again? Jake?”

“Jim.”

“Whatever,” he hisses. “Hell of a quidditch player.”

You tentatively nod.

“Heard he has a tendency to be a beater off the field as well.”

Shifting your weight, you shake your head. “Are you unfamiliar with the concept of a rumour, Bahng?”

“That’s not exactly denial, is it?”

Lips dry, you take a moment to lick them and swallow thickly.

No one understands Jim— no one tries to, anyway. He’s thoughtful when it counts and nearly always caring. He’s just protective of those he cherishes. He allows you permission to hang out with your friends because he wants to ensure that you’ll be safe no matter where you are. And you like it when your boyfriend has input on your clothes. You’re so used to wearing a uniform, sometimes you forget how a proper woman is supposed to dress— that’s what Jim tells you. He is always here to remind you because he cares. He made that very clear himself.

Yes, maybe sometimes he becomes so passionate he cannot think straight, but it’s not intentional. He’s filled with so many emotions, it’s hard to contain them all at once. Besides, he always makes it up to you, showering you with cuddles, kisses, and your favourite chocolate frogs. He’s completely capable of being a gentleman.

“He just has a temper,” you reply, voice quavering. You clear your throat before adding, “I’ve heard that you do as well. Aren’t you dubbed the Demon of Slytherin?”

A smile tugs on his full lips at the mention of the title. “Not with the people I care about,” he clarifies.

“Well, look at that,” you tease. “I didn’t think you cared about anyone other than yourself.”

He thumbs the corner of his mouth, tongue poking against his bottom lip. “Come in and I’ll enlighten you a bit more.”

You raise an unimpressed brow. “We’re here for peace-talks,” you remind.

“And I’m not talking until you get in here.”

He can’t be serious.

You scoff, glaring. That usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. He maintains your gaze, expressionless. The only movement is the constant clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he waits.

“I can look away if you’d like,” he taunts, the lightest impression of a smile on his lips.

He really isn’t serious, you realise. He’s only toying with you, mocking your known tendencies to be a straight-edged, highly academic student. He thinks you’re some prudent angel who condemns all excitement and never dares to laugh out loud in public.

Gritting your teeth, you grab onto the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. The way his brows shoot up only fuels your defiance. With every button you undo, his jaw loosens a bit more. You watch his throat bob at the sight of your satin pink bra and hear his breath hitch when you pull it off.

His dazed gaze follows your hands around the zipper of your short, pleated skirt. A part of you wishes you had matched your panties with your bra solely for the sake of consistency, but the baby-blue cotton will have to do.

He roams his eyes over your curves as you flick off your shoes and socks before meeting yours once more. You gather your hair, inhaling and exhaling slowly under his careful watch, and tie it back into a sloppy but tight bun. Big, brown, and once boastful, his eyes now swim with notions of marvelled intrigue.

As you take a step into the bath, you notice he neatly folded his clothes on the edge of the tub, flicking your attention between him and his precious clothes. Then, you hold his gaze, plaster your sweetest smile, and push them into the water.

He raises his brows, about to object when you say, “That’s for being a pompous ass.”

He tries to hide his smile with a bite of his lip.

Your knees wobble as you continue to wade through water and foam. Perhaps it’s the warmth of the bath, or the cover of bubbles, but the reality of the situation has finally dawned on you. Shedding your garments one by one, you have stripped your inhibitions in front of the most cunning douchebag you’ve ever been blessed to meet. What if he tells his friends? What if he embellishes the events and turns you into a conquest?

What if Jim finds out?

“What happens here stays between us,” he suddenly announces, as if reading your mind. “Not even the ghosts will know.”

“How can I be sure?”

“I’m not uncivilised, princess,” he smirks. “I have my honour.”

You pause, waiting for the glint in his eyes that often follows the delivery of his vicious jokes. Instead, sincerity swirls in those brown eyes. You wonder if perhaps you’re a fool because you believe him.

You take a seat to his left, maintaining a more-than-respectable distance. Collecting extra clusters of bubbles, you arrange them before your full chest. You’ve made your point, you tell yourself. And he’s seen far more than Jim ever has— both must never know.

“I can’t hear you from there.”

“You can hear me just fine.”

“What?”

You lean your head back with an exasperated sigh. “Merlin give me strength,” you mutter before inching a bit closer.

He tsks, beckoning you towards him with a curl of his fingers.

You comply, drawing nearer and nearer. When he continues to summon you closer, even at an arm’s length away, you lightly splash him.

“This is close enough,” you spit.

From the way he smiles, you realise he was trying to see how close he could get you. Jaw tight, you shake your head.

“Can you be serious for two minutes?” you ask, voice sharp. “We shouldn’t even be up this late. We have a Transfigurations quiz tomorrow.”

Confusion furrows his brows. “No, we don’t.”

You try not to smile at the way he speaks, accent thickest when he’s perplexed.

“Every second Thursday at nine, we get a pop quiz on the last two chapters,” you explain. “If you paid attention to anyone but yourself, you’d know that.”

“I don’t think anyone but you knows that,” he replies through a chuckle.

He can see the pride flash in your eyes, spreading onto your lips through a little smile— you know he can. He mirrors the expression, and you expected it to be another instance of mockery. However, upon the absence of that mischievous glint in his eye, you’re inclined to believe that he might actually mean it.

Is he proud of you for being so observant, so keen?

You hold your breath as he reaches over to move a strand of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear, then gently traces your jaw. You gulp a nervous lump down your throat.

Holding your chin between the edge of his finger and thumb, he quietly asks, “You want to be serious?”

You slowly nod.

“Tell me why the Princess of Gryffindor is dating a leach.”

“Why do you care?”

“Satisfy my curiosity.”

Why is the thought of satisfying him not completely revolting?

He’s a liar, a charming hustler. He has, somehow, slithered his way into everyone’s good graces, always getting what he wants, when he wants it. He gives absolutely no thought to the regulations either, sneaking his way around every rule and blaming it all on your fellow Gryffindors. It’s infuriating. You’re much more witty, much quicker than him. You’re a better quidditch player too, and, if he hadn’t manipulated Madame Hooch into making him the star-player of the season, you would have easily secured that title.

So, why, after all the trouble he has caused you, does the mere mention of his satisfaction exhilarate you?

You move to release yourself from his touch, but he holds you tighter, forcing you to maintain eye contact. Clenching your jaw, you inhale sharply through your nostrils. Your eyes narrow.

He flickers his attention to your scowl, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You exhale carefully, cautious not to press your mouth against his touch. “Some say being with Jim makes me the princess,” you confess.

He tongues his cheek.

“You don’t agree?”

“When I look at you, all I see is royalty,” he softly says, voice steady and deep. “And I can assure you that has nothing to do with him.”

“I’ve known him forever,” you try again.

He arches a brow. “You’ve known him for a little over a year,” he corrects. “You’ve known me forever.”

He’s right; you really have known him forever. The memory of him on the train on your very first day of school, sitting in the compartment across from yours, resurfaces.

He was just some snot-nosed thirteen year old, supervising his loud friends as they arm wrestled. He caught you staring and winked.

You gagged in disgust.

He’s a flirt, you remind yourself. And you mustn’t forget that there’s a catch to this line of questioning.

You tear yourself out of his grasp, hardening your gaze. “You’re not going to worm your way out of this conversation, Bahng. Tell me what it’s going to take.”

He settles back against the tub, rolling his shoulders. “What’s the point? You’ll never do it.”

You pause, attention flitting down to where the foam gathers by his waist.

Is he… big, you can’t help wondering.

The dark chuckle tumbling from his full lips reminds you of your annoyance. Gulping, you muster your most disgusted sneer and glare at him.

He’s shameless.

“You sicken me,” you spit.

That little chuckle manifests into a full, deep laugh. His pretty eyes twinkle with mischief as he tongues his cheek.“You’re so dirty,” he teasingly chastises.

You don’t mean to shiver, but he shoots you a suggestive look and suddenly you feel hot.

“All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

Brows knitted, you scoff. “I’ve asked you hundreds of times.”

“You’ve demanded,” he corrects. “Besides, I didn’t like your tone.”

You could smack him right now. You could push a wave of water in his face, disorienting him for a moment so he doesn’t see your hand wind back, and hit him upside the head. Clenching your fist, jaw tight, you fight against the urge.

A jeering smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. He’s reaping all too much amusement from your misery.

Inhaling deeply, you swallow your pride and begin, “I was wond—”

“Sir.”

“What?”

“Start with ‘Sir’.”

You scoff.

“You want me to stop, right?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension.

You’ve never been more thankful for the amount of foam floating amongst you. Your thighs press together tightly at his tone, almost quivering under the water’s surface. You don’t think you’d be able to walk away so haughty and moral if he could see just how much his charm could potentially sway you.

“Sir,” you pointedly add, “I was wondering if you would please find it in your poor little excuse of a heart to stop terrorising my housemates?”

He hisses, squinting and tilting his head. “I’m detecting sarcasm.”

“I’m detecting bullshit.”

A look of mocked condemnation colours his face. “Now, now, princess. Didn’t I tell you to ask nicely?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Everyone calls you that.”

“Not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I belong to you.”

What an interesting reality that would be— calling someone like him your boyfriend. Walking with him to class, letting him hold your books, or play with your hair, or adore the outfits you pick out and practise flying together. The images conjure themselves so clearly in your brain, you could’ve sworn they were memories. Even holding his hand would make your legs weak.

All wicked notions of mockery fade within a blink. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes narrow, but they are not full of taunting amusement nor unruly mischief. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they’re full of pity.

“You’re not property to possess,” he affirms, tone disparaging as if the thought is unnatural. “You’re an idol of worship.”

“How blasphemous,” you joke, playing along.

He does not laugh. Sucking in his cheeks, brows furrowed and head shaking, he redirects his gaze to the bubbles in front of him. You watch his jaw flex, throat bob. Even the candles, floating above, dim and cast shadows over his handsome face.

“I’ll see what I can do about keeping Gryffindors out of trouble,” he suddenly concedes, shifting his arms off the edge of the tub for the first time. They disappear under water as he continues, “You’re going to have to warn them against bothering Slytherins though.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

What is that voice?

Usually light, laced with arrogance and mischief, his voice floats like a sweet melody, only to land sharper than a blade. Now it is plagued with melancholia. Slow, raspy, he almost sounds defeated, like he’s given up.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Your face folds into confusion. Tilting your head, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I have known you forever, Bahng. And I know that you are a man of very pretty words, the prettiest sometimes.”

He casts you a sidelong glance, quirking a brow as a smile hovers over his lips.

You ignore his giant ego and continue, “One word answers are not in your arsenal, unless they’re lethal.”

“Your point?”

“Something is bothering you.”

“Why do you even care?” He sighs, finally meeting your gaze.

You resist a smirk. “Satisfy my curiosity?”

Conceit has no place on his face. A soft smile settles, caressing his features with genuine astonishment. Perhaps it wasn’t what you said, tossing his words back at him. But rather how you said it. Uncertain, perhaps even slightly cheeky, you posed it as a question. Your right shoulder came up to your cheek, and voice slightly pitched.

He lets out a chuckle. Parting his lips, you think he might finally express himself. He shakes his head, looking down instead.

“All this because you promised not to trouble me anymore?”

He shuts his eyes, bites his lip. You hear him inhale sharply, watch him release his lip to glide his tongue over his teeth. His jaw tenses then he meets your gaze. Cold, annoyed, he regards you with scrutiny.

“When have you ever been in trouble because of me?” he asks, voice so level, it makes you tremble. “When your friends were called to the Headmistress’s office two weeks ago, were you asked to join them?”

How the hell does he know about that? The Headmistress reassured Jim and the rest of your friends that the professor who witnessed the drunken broom-rides around the courtyard would not share it with the other pupils. She gave them a month’s worth of detention and praised you for not partaking in their shenanigans.

“Who do you think was on duty that night?” he questions. “Who do you think sent you that signal from the astronomy tower? Who do you think convinced the Headmistress that you were safely tucked in bed, unaware of the fact that your little leach stole your broom?”

The blood drains from your face.

“Do you even know what that toad said when the Headmistress questioned your involvement?”

You shake your head.

“He told her that it was your idea. That you were the one who smuggled the alcohol from some secret passage you found near Honeydukes. He told her that you were the one that woke him up and begged him to come out with you. He cried.” His voice simmers with fury, quiet and steady, as he draws nearer. You press your back against the tub. “He babbled like a baby and dragged your character through the mud.”

You crank your head back to maintain eye contact. You’re careful not to take a full breath, hoping your breasts don’t brush against his chest. However, you swear the tips of your hardened nipples still graze his skin. The possible contact fogs your brain. You blink to force yourself to remain focused, trying to register his words, the implication of betrayal they reveal.

“But he told me—”

“He’s a fucking liar,” he seethes. His gaze bounces around your face, as if suddenly aware of your proximity. Attention lingering on your lips, he confesses, “I’ve shattered reputations to keep you out of trouble. So I have to ask, ____, when have you ever gotten in trouble because of me?”

You part your lips to mention the onslaught of complaints you receive daily due to his insolence, but it all seems meaningless now. Why would someone known as the Demon of Slytherin shatter reputations for you? He doesn’t seem very sentimental, yet he lied for your sake.

Going for a late night fly in the courtyard really was your idea. You had too much coffee one night, trying to stay up long enough to finish your report on the history of alchemy due the next morning. Having finished your scroll earlier than you thought, still buzzing with energy, you suggested a broom race to your friends.

Jim heard you talking about it the next morning, and scolded you for being so thoughtless. He woke you up that night, ordering you and your roommates to get out of bed and join his friends for a race. Your roommates eventually brushed him off, but his grasp on your arm left no room for refusal.

You were made aware of the alcohol, or rather its influence, when you witnessed Monroe fly face-first into the side of the castle.

“I’m going to bed,” you said. You dismounted to hurry inside when Jim caught hold of your robes.

“We’re not done,” he sneered, pulling you towards him. You held your breath, knowing it wouldn’t end well if you reacted to the stench of whisky seeping from his mouth. “Did you leave your little friends out here when you flew with them?”

A bright green flare suddenly shot up from the astronomy tower. Jim loosened his grip to marvel at the sight with his friends.

You took the opportunity to slip away, rushing back to your dorm.

Blinking out of your memories, you watch as he pulls himself away, returning to his previous place in the tub. He sits back against the porcelain, wet arms resting on the edge.

You bite your lip at the sight of his glistening muscles. You’re not sure when he got so big, coming back to school a couple of years ago with broad shoulders and a buff chest.

Leaning his head back, he shuts his eyes and mutters, “Towels are by the steps.”

It’s time to go.

So why can’t you move?

Your legs tremble, wrinkled fingers twisting in your lap. Stand up, you tell yourself. Stand up, dry off, get dressed and leave the way you came.

Why would he lie for you, you can’t stop wondering. Why would he warn you before sending professors to detain your disorderly friends? Wouldn’t he gain more by diminishing your credibility?

This must be one of his games. He’s agreed to a house truce, but perhaps he merely wants to channel his deviant tendencies onto you.

You study his features at the thought. Though his eyes are closed, head still titled back against the edge, his jaw is tight. He grinds his teeth like he’s trying to swallow profanities. You shift your attention to his hands, large and vein-laced. His knuckles are white from how tightly he clenches them.

Could he perhaps be— No! The Demon of Slytherin would find that laughable. Of course, he’s not interested in you. It’s all a game. It must be.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

You lick your lips. “Why did you lie for me?”

The candles flicker.

“You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

He tongues his cheek. You bite back a shameful moan.

“It’s the same reason why you refuse to say my name.”

You gulp. “Bahng,” you reply only for him to chuckle.

He peeks a sidelong glance at you before laughing some more and shutting his eyes. “You’re cute when you’re in denial.”

“Are you capable of giving me a straight answer?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. He’s really going to make you say it. How did he even know you’ve been avoiding it? Has he been eavesdropping on your conversations with your friends? It’s not as though it means anything serious anyway. You just can’t get used to his name on your tongue. You’ve uttered it once in the Great Hall to one of your friends and hatefully realised that you in fact like how it sounds.

However, that cannot mean that you like him. It just means that you might be inclined to tolerate him as a classmate, or perhaps even an occasional friend. He’s not entirely horrible. He’s never late. He’s never raised his voice at his friends, and you are all too aware of how loud they can be. He has an easy smile. He’s clever. He’s athletic. He would be a dedicated, determined, devoted boyfri—.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He sits up, rolling his neck. “You’re pretty slow for one of the top students of your year,” he taunts.

You should be insulted, absolutely disgusted that Bahng, the cunning Demon of Slytherin, has a crush on you. You should swear at him, splash him in the face with the foamy water and storm out just as you should have when he asked you to call him ‘sir.’

However, you find that your heart beats faster, breath already ragged. You find that you inch closer, flitting your gaze between his eyes and lips. You find that you do not want to hurl your dinner nor any other insults you usually have locked and loaded when you see him in the halls.

Panic surges through you at the realisation that maybe… maybe you might like him too.

“I have a boyfriend!” you suddenly announce, though you’re not quite sure who you’re trying to remind.

His voice is tempered, gaze knowing as he replies, “I’m not forcing you to stay, princess.”

I have a boyfriend.

“And if I do?” you ask as he scans your features. “Would you tell him?”

I have a boy.

“No one will know,” he repeats.

I have a friend?

“Promise?”

I have… I have…

“I vow to you my honour and dignity.”

You reach for him, finding that he is already moving towards you. Lips latch. A whirlwind of wonder circles from the pit of your stomach, flooding your chest with desire. Febrile, fierce, the force seers his name into your flesh, pumps his breath through your lungs.

Ch-ris, Ch-ris, Ch-ris, your heart beats.

Your tongue fails to keep up with his, swirling and twirling to eventually give into his guidance. You just need him closer, grappling onto his large shoulders. Arching your back, you shove your chest against his.

His hands find their place on your waist. He hugs you against him, his hammering heart beating as one with your own. It’s so natural, so quick, the way your bodies find a rhythm, congruently propelling excitement.

And then it slips, distinct amongst the shared panting, “Chris.”

You feel his hands slide down to your thighs and tighten their grip. Letting out a little squeal, you clutch onto his shoulders as he swiftly lifts you atop the thick edge of the tub.

Chris stands between your legs. A little voice is screaming at you to push him away, but you find yourself leaning back, further spreading yourself for him.

It seems to be all the confirmation he needs to advance. His hands trail up along your thick thighs. He gropes at the flesh, watching your brows furrow and lips quiver. His thumb presses against your clit.

Your legs tremble, water rippling where your feet still dangle beneath the surface.

Chris smirks. He circles the bundle of nerves, eyeing your features as they succumb to the gentle pleasure. Licking your lips, you resist the urge to buckle your hips into his hand, body tensing.

“Yeah,” he coos, rubbing your thigh. “You like that, princess?”

Before you can reply, he dives his head between your legs. His lips latch around your clit, sucking harshly. Your breath hitches, stifling your moans in the base of your throat.

His tongue presses between your folds. The warm, wet sensation itself triggers a whiny moan, but the growl that rumbles from the deep crevices of his chest has you gripping onto his head.

Chris is famished. He laps at your clenching hole, slurping on your desire with vigorous determination. He wraps his arms around the undersides of your full thighs and feasts. He shakes his head with a deep groan. You knew you liked that big nose of his for a reason, moaning loudly as he nuzzles against your clit.

Hips roll into lips. You tremble. His grip tightens as his tongue pushes through. Fingers tangled in his hair, you gasp a moan and pathetically move your body against his face.

Chris pins you in place. He has a pace set, a steady in-and-out rhythm, that does not require any assistance.

It’s brutal.

Fast and rough, he tongues your gushing pussy, further smothering his nose against your bundle of nerves. The ongoing groans he emits do not ease the intensity of his passion, vibrating against your sex.

“Fu-ck,” you choke out, squirming over his tongue.

You think he might drown in you but then he replaces his tongue with rougher fingers. Your arousal glistens over his chin and cheeks under the wavering candlelight. Ardent eyes hold your desperate ones. You have trouble focusing on the emotion flooding his gaze as his fingers curl within you.

You’ve felt your high growing for a while, but have not been so distressed by its presence before this moment. You grip onto the edge, eyes fluttering shut as your hips rush up to meet his fingers.

Chris darkly chuckles. “No, no, no, no, open your eyes, princess,” he coaxes, pace becoming more aggressive. “Look at how well you fuck my fingers.”

Your lip quivers as you focus your attention downward. Your body has a mind of its own, rolling desperately up to his hand. It’s pitiful, really— the avidity, the urgency, the willingness you display at the mere curl of his fingers, pressing the most perfect spot over and over. You haven’t even been able to find it while trying to pleasure yourself. And the couple of times you’ve allowed Jim to attempt to fuck you, you were more eager to finish than to begin.

A weak moan escapes you as you meet Chris’s cocky gaze. You never want this end, shameless in your realisation. You never want him to leave, never want to stop gawking at his handsome features as his fingers unravel your worries.

“C-can,” you start, pussy clenching tightly around his digits. “Can I pl-ease c-cum, sir?”

His eyes darken. Jaw tight, he wraps a hand around your throat.

You meant to gasp, but an embarrassingly erotic moan tears through his hold instead. It spurs him on, his pace becoming unmanageable. The bath around him thrashes from the force of his strong arm.

His fist tightens around your neck. Your needy moans shatter.

“Cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he whispers.

You must confess that you might have cum whether or not he gave you permission, the urge undeniable. Undone in mere seconds, you throw your head back. Your body quakes, hole clenching sporadically as you gush and gush. Your hips eventually still. Your legs tremble as your orgasm shudders through you. For a second, you feel the room spin. Blood rushes up to your head, disorienting your senses.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs.

If you’ve been so good, why hasn’t he stopped? His fingers, while slowing down, still maintain a steady force. His hand still grips around your throat, choking all your high pitched whines as your orgasm washes over you.

“C-Chris?” you shakily ask once you sit up again.

A sparkle of sinister satisfaction winks in his gaze.

You swallow thickly, hips shifting to escape the ongoing pleasure. “Chris,” You firmly repeat before releasing the edge of the tub and gripping onto his wrist. “Chris, please.”

Your efforts are useless, his force much stronger than yours.

“Don’t you wanna cum?”

“I d-id,” you whine. “I c-came, sir, please.”

A pleased growl rumbles from his chest at the title.

Pride sprouts in your stomach, or perhaps it’s another orgasm? It gathers around your clit. You furrow your brows at the sensation, pussy now clenching around his fingers tighter than before. Your release usually knots and twists under your stomach, threatening to gush between the sporadic tensing.

You think you might need to urinate this time, however. The thought rushes blood to your cheeks.

“Chris,” you try to warn.

Tongue licking the corner of his mouth, Chris raises a knowing brow. He smiles devilishly.

Does he know? Does he care?

You don’t have time to find out, letting go of his wrist to grab back onto the edge. Your hips freeze, body rigid as another wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Moans trickle out through sobs, the blissful gratification becoming all too much.

Hand shifting from your throat to your waist, Chris holds you steady and pulls out his fingers to a spray of your orgasm. He does not recoil at the splash, but further coaxes it as his fingers rush flat over your clit.

Your body does not feel like your own, overridden with galvanising pleasure. Senses lost, you don’t realise the damage you’re on the verge of causing. Writhing, a pitched, loud scream splits through the swashing of the bath and splatter of your release from the depths of your lungs. Perhaps your vision is foggy, but you swear you catch the stain-glass windows tremor.

Chris ceases his harsh ministrations. He’s stifling his laughter as he pulls you back into the bath. His hand clamps over your mouth— your whines even louder at the sudden halt of satisfaction.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothes as you crank your neck back to look up at him.

Though, mind still hazy, you cannot help wondering if he likes the image of you beneath him or if this is simply the best position to silence you.

Why not both, you can almost hear him reply.

Chris must see some sort of dialogue in your eyes because he narrows his own. “Do you want to get caught? Is that why you screamed?” He removes his hand from your mouth, only to trace it with his thumb. “You want your precious house to see this— see me between your legs?”

You cannot help your smirk, quirking your brow. “You do look good there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, breath fanning over your lips.

When you nod, he smiles, the curve of his lips so devastatingly beautiful you wonder how on Earth you ever denied him for so long.

“As good as you’d look gagged?”

You furrow your brows, about to question him when you feel it. Wet silk slithers along your arm, looping around your bicep and up your shoulder. Green and silver, you watch as his tie travels around your neck, slightly tightening— teasing.

When you meet Chris’s gaze once more, you find they glow with rapturous lust. How long has he thought about this, about you? Does he spend his nights with the image of you at his mercy, mouth bound? Does he crave it when you sass him?

You part your lips to accommodate the tie, holding his gaze. As it loops into a tight knot behind your head, Chris tenderly takes your hands and guides them to your back. The same cool, wet sensation of silk begins to bind your wrists. It must be your Gryffindor tie. The irony is not lost on you. You felt bound by your house to see him and now he has bound you by your house to fuck you. It’s clever, admirable— already more stimulating than attempting to cum at the clueless hands of your boyfriend.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. It’s like he cannot believe it himself.

“Foolishly,” you tease between the gag.

He smirks, caressing your chin.

“Completely,” you add. Whatever playfulness once twinkled in your eyes, fades into seriousness. “Undoubtedly.”

That’s enough, your pride warns.

“Desperately.”

You’re a fool. A pitiful, needy fool. So vacant of true connection, you’d chase anyone willing to offer you a mere moment of grace and attention. Who is the Demon of Slytherin besides some snake that cons his way through the school, for you to trust him so reverently?

The man who shatters reputations for you, a little voice revels.

Chris secures his fist around your throat again. He applies little to no pressure while pressing a soft kiss to your chin. You can smell your arousal on his face. Though you want to, you cannot deny the shameless quiver of your lower lip.

“Do you trust him like this?”

You should feel cold, recoiling in remorse and disgrace. You should blink yourself out of the trace Chris has lulled you into and demand he unbinds you. You should thrash and scream until someone ultimately hears and rescues you, declaring him a savage beast. You should remember your boyfriend’s name, even recall what he looks like.

Peering up at Chris, all you see is him, all you can bother to chant is his name. Like a broken record, it loops, sliding between thoughts. The only person etched in your soul is Chris.

“Who?” you ask in response to his question.

Chris bites back a smirk.

In a motion so swift you’ve missed it, Chris bends you over the edge of the tub. His hands station at your hips to pull your backside above the water’s surface. He laughs, the sound so sweet and pure you cannot help joining, because you already arch your back, perking your ass up high for him. His hands circle the surface fondly.

For a second, you believe that Chris is your boyfriend and you two do this sort of thing all the time.

And then his tongue returns. Pulling your cheeks apart, Chris dives between, tonguing your tiniest hole. Round and round, teasing a possible penetration, his tongue dances as you clench. Words fail you as only breathless moans sound, fraught and hiccupped. He abandons his ministrations for a split second to slurp on your resurfacing arousal.

“You taste like heaven wrapped in sin,” he mumbles against your folds.

A wavering moan replies through the gag.

You hear the water thrash rhythmically as Chris drags his tongue up from your sensitive pussy to your asshole. Again and again, he moves slow, steady like he wants to savour every last drop you have to offer.

“P-please,” you whimper.

Chris pulls away to gather saliva and spit it back onto you. Face smothered between your cheeks, he hisses,“Please what?”

A broken moan trails in response, body trembling from the aggressive vibrations of his words.

Between kisses on your clenching hole, he questions,“What do you want?”

You can’t take much more of this, toe curling as he continues to plant wet kisses, teasing you. “F-Fuck me,” you plead, holding back desperate sobs. “Please, please, pl-please, fuck me, sir!”

A pleased hum resonates against your hole. Your legs tremble.

Chris detaches himself from your rear. Waves lap around you as he stands to his full height. He pushes up your cheeks, pushing you further over the edge of the tub. His tip pokes at your dripping hole.

Excitement buzzes through your veins, knees wobbling. You fist your hands and hold your breath.

“Do you want my cock, princess?” Chris breathlessly asks, voice husky.

You hurriedly nod.

A hard smack lands on your left cheek. Jolting, a loud shriek escapes you. You try to turn back your head to glare at him, but Chris pulls your hips up again, forcing you back into your bent position.

“Use your words.”

“Yes!” you beech, swallowing profanities. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He rubs the stinging surface, lowly groaning his approval in two simple words: Good girl.

Your knees give out. Chris holds your hips firmly, like he anticipated the reaction. “That’s why you always try to behave, right?” He asks, and you swear you can hear that knowing smirk plastered on his lips. “You like being praised.”

Before you can question how he can possibly know that, his tip breaches.

Your mouth hangs open, but your voice crumbles in the base of your throat, breath stunted in your lungs.

Chris squeezes himself between your walls, imprinting his fingers onto the fat of your hips. “Fuck,” he purrs.

You’re relieved to hear he is just as broken as you are, finding your voice again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to face him tomorrow knowing you melted for him while he remained perfectly composed. Releasing soft, quiet moans, you spare a look back at him.

His head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly, but then he straightens it to look back down. His face scrunches in pleasure watching his cock slowly shove into you. He wants to catch every second of it, lifting the fat of your ass to see himself bottom out inside you. He quietly hisses, grabbing handfuls of your cheeks.

Your eyes meet and you expect his to convey the same surprise yours do, having been caught witnessing something…. intimate. Instead, arrogance twinkles and he shoots you a wink.

“You’re insufferable,” you sneer.

He smirks, thrusting in reply.

Your self-righteous glare falters into teary pleasure.

His expression remains unchanged, however, as if he knew one manoeuvre of his hips would be enough to silence you. Reaching for the knot behind your head, Chris forces your head forward. You moan at the rough flick of his wrist, voice peaking as he yanks on the tied gag like he’s reining a horse.

The smack of skin on skin, the splash of the bath around you, even the full-chested growls Chris roars, cannot overtake the whiny, broken moans you release. Every thrust coaxes a louder sound, tearing through your throat as you try desperately to keep it down. He’s just so fast, so big, you cannot contain yourself, pushing yourself back into him.

His free hand slips into your bounded fists. The delicacy of his touch in the midsts of such rough rutting, cradles your heart. He holds your hands firmly and for a second, you forget where you are. It’s just you and Chris and the floating bubbles now infused with vanilla, sandalwood and your blended arousal. On the threshold of something real, you tighten the clasp of your fingers around his hand.

Is Chris looking for reassurance or is the gesture enough to tip him over the edge?

His thrusts snap into a force so strong, you’re certain he would have toppled you over the lip of the tub had he not been holding you so firmly. Vigorous, deliberate, his hips pound into you, rubbing against your clenching walls.

Your legs shake and shoulders ache from the strain of having them fixed in a certain position for much too long. Still, you need more, more—

“More!” you cry, and you hope he can understand you through the gag.

Water splashes out of the tub in great waves as Chris increases his speed. Though the cacophonous melody of your desires fills the room, you swear you hear him whisper, “Whatever you want, princess.”

Eyes rolling, drool dribbling down your chin, you almost fall limp on the edge. Your toes curl, body shakes from the onslaught of pleasure as he thrust, thrust, thrusts into you. You cannot keep still if your sanity depended on it, cannot keep quiet either. You half expect another prefect to barge in or a ghost to emerge and investigate the sounds of your shared pleasure.

You cannot endure it anymore, cannot endure him. Clenching tightly, you meet his movements with eager force. Your moans jump an octave in pitch. His name pours from your quivering lips like a desperate prayer.

His cock twitches.

And all at once, ecstasy arrests your bones. Muscles tense, walls sporadically clench, your orgasm ripples through your aching body. Blood rushes to your head. The high fogs your mind, muffles your hearing and you lay limp over the thick edge of the tub as Chris unloads his desire deep in you.

Nearly half the bath water is all over the floor and you catch his reflection within the spill. His hungry brown eyes are locked on your worn body, on the way your full frame jiggles with the intense impact of his thrusts. Another rope of cum shoots within you at the sight of your voluptuous backside. Chris gropes each cheek, biting his lip.

You wiggle back into him and a little smile tugs on the corners of his plump lips. He hums soft growls, tilting his head to gage the best possible angle to view your rear. He traces gentle circles over the surface of your cheeks before trailing his touch up along your spine and you don’t realise you’re trembling until his fingers brush back down.

While your voice is high-pitched, whimpering between heavy breaths, Chris’s voice drops an octave as he shushes you. The low rumbles resonate within your bones, tenderly soothing you.

The knots around your wrists and head, loosen. Your house ties fall as he pulls out of you. A whine escapes, but Chris is ready. He continues to softly shush you, pulling you up and onto his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, engulfing you in his warmth.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. He turns to sit again, seating you between his legs. “I got you.”

You tell yourself that you just need to catch your breath. Once you stop panting, and your mind stops whirling, you will untangle yourself from him, threaten to destroy him if he utters this to anyone, and leave. You just need the world to stop spinning.

Only, Chris’s arms are so strong and secure. And with the heat he radiates, the tenor of his deep voice, the brush of his panting breath against the crook of your neck, you cannot bring yourself to fight it. Your body is spent, muscles aching and bones brittle from the rush of pleasure that you still feel fuelling your needy nerves.

More than that though, you can feel your mixed arousal between your legs. And you don’t hate it. You try— you want to hate it. But, it feels so right. It feels like this is how you should be spending every night, this is where his arousal belongs: on your body.

Chris presses a soft kiss against your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze.

“Are you hurt?”

It has just occurred to you that no one else has ever held you this close after any sort of intimate moment. You’ve given your boyfriend, whose name still evades you, everything you have. You’ve gotten on your knees for him, swallowed his loads, pretended to gag on him, and reassured him that he was not quick at all and it was perfectly normal to release within the first few thrusts. You sacrificed your own pleasure multiple times and still, no one has coddled you the way Chris does now, let alone asked you if you’ve been hurt.

Tears sting your eyes. You blink them away, avert your gaze to the remaining clusters of foam and bubbles.

“What hurts?”

His voice is so soft, so delicate, you find it hard to fight off your tears.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

Chris shifts to try to meet your gaze. He rubs his hands along your biceps, brows knitted in concern. “Tell me where it hurts,” he practically begs.

“Nothing hurts,” you whisper.

He stiffens, hands pausing mid-stroke.

You chance a glance over your shoulder.

Despair gleams in his eyes. He sets his jaw and swallows thickly before asking, “Do you regret this?”

“No,” you reply before you can even really process the question. Your next words simply tumble out of you. “I couldn’t regret this if I tried.”

Hope twinkles in his gaze, dimming the gloom that once clouded it. He caresses your chin and smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease.

He tongues his cheek. “Tell me why you’re upset then. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Chewing on your lip, you wonder if you should be honest. You know he likes you now, but you cannot help wondering if he is simply attracted sexually to you or if this really means something to him. And if it is just sexual attraction, will you be able to weather his rejection?

You inhale deeply. He has seen every part of you, heard every drop of desperation in your voice. It might be merely sexual, but there is still a certain level of intimacy within that as well. And if he is taking the time to soothe you and check in with you after such vigorous devotion, then it must mean something, right?

“No one…” you trail, unsure how to word it.

Chris brushes your loose strands out of your face. His patience stirs something foreign in the pit of your stomach. It’s warm and whole and welcoming— Happiness.

“I never get aftercare,” you breathlessly confess. “I was beginning to think I don’t deserve it.”

You swear you see anger flash in his eyes before sadness settles. “You don’t deserve to be treated like anything less than royalty,” he says, deep voice caressing your heart. “I will destroy anyone who thinks differently.”

You kiss him, soft and slow. He quietly hums in against your lips.

Pulling back slightly, you whisper, “Then, I’ll always be your princess.”

The Great Hall bustles with chatty students gossiping, fighting over food, or rough-housing. The bright morning sun shines through the grand windows as the smell of breakfast lures you in behind your roommates.

You rub your eyes and suppress a yawn.

“Come on,” Fiona says, tugging on your robes.

You shuffle after her, adjusting your tie. It still smells of vanilla and sandalwood, drawing memories of last night to the forefront of your mind. It’s not like you can ever forget what happened. If the smell of your tie did not invoke any memories, the ache of your muscles or lingering wetness in the apex of your thighs would do the trick.

An arm wraps around your waist. You stiffen when you turn to find Jim smirking down at you.

“Morn—” you begin, attempting to brush off his touch.

His grip tightens. You suppress a hiss, knowing any indication of pain will only set him off.

“You didn’t wait for me.” His lips are curled in a boyish smile, but his eyes simmer with annoyance.

You try to push his hand away again, but he only seems to squeeze your side harder. “I woke up late,” you explain before adding, “Please let go.”

“You woke up late,” he repeats with a dry chuckle. “You seem to have enough time to shower. I can smell your vanilla soap.”

In the corner of your eye, you find Minho, one of Chris’s Slytherin friends, halt mid-step as the mention of vanilla scents. He turns to look between you, Jim, and Chris, who sits a few paces away and is burning a hole through Jim’s skull. A knowing look flashes in his eyes and he smirks at you.

Jim catches him staring, furrowing his brows. “Fuck off, snake,” he quietly hisses.

Minho glares at him.

You take the distraction as an opportunity to slip away. Jim is already one step ahead of you, tugging you back into his chest with a pointed tug of your robe. You stumble back with a quiet yelp.

Minho, brows knotted, sets his jaw. “I think she wants you to let her go.”

“I think I told you to fuck off.”

“I think we’re over.”

Jim snaps his attention back to you. “What?”

You put all your strength into ripping yourself out of his grasp. “We’re,” you start, tugging your robe out of his fists, “done.”

“What do you mean?”

“We. are. not. dat-ing. an-y. more.”

The Great Hall falls silent— or perhaps it’s been quiet for some time. You are not sure and frankly, you couldn’t care less. All you want is to be as far away from Jim and his sweaty, red face as you possibly can.

“You— Don’t fucking speak to me like that,” he seethes, advancing towards you.

Chris stands between you and Jim. You don’t remember hearing his footsteps but here he is, towering over Jim. Minho and Changbin, a fellow Gryffindor, stand on either side of him.

You are suddenly all too aware of the quiet murmurs echoing around the Hall. In the corner of your eye, you catch your roommates nervously staring, confusion and concern crumpling their faces.

“Sit down,” Chris orders.

Jim sneers, but that anger of his soon falters as Minho and Changbin take a step forward.

“What is the meaning of this?” Headmistress McGonagall asks, emerging from the back door by the staff table. She hurries down the middle aisle, clutching onto her dress, a look of pure condemnation on her face.

Chris turns to the Headmistress with a charming smile. Minho and Changbin quietly slip back into their seats as Chris explains, “I was just reminding Mr Prewett that profanities are not tolerated at Hogwarts, Headmistress. You know how forgetful he could be.”

McGonagall narrows her gaze at Chris. She then looks at Jim and finally at you. Her attention bounces between you and Chris a couple more times before asking, “Is that so?”

You nod along with Chris.

Jim clenches his jaw.

“Well, I never thought I would see the day that Ms ____ would agree with Mr Bahng,” she announces, staring at the two of you a moment longer. She hums then finally turns to Jim. “Mr Prewett, please report to my office after breakfast.”

And with that, she waves the students back to their meal and returns to the staff table.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“You’re going to regret this,” Jim mutters. “No one is going to treat you the way I do.”

You shoot him a humourless smirk. “Good.”

Chris stifles a laugh.

The sight of his playful eyes and plump lips have you suppressing your own smile. You shake off the flutter of your gut and find your place beside Fiona at the table.

“What the hell is going on with you and Bahng?” she asks as you fill your plate.

“You ever notice how Jim would always give me a plate with less food than anyone at this table and then rush me out of the Hall before I can go for seconds?”

Fiona stiffens.

“I didn’t either,” you confess, scooping another heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs. “I think Chris did though.”

Her green eyes drift back to where Chris sits. A little chuckle escapes her as she turns back to her food and shakes her head. “I think McGonagall was onto something,” she laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“I just never thought I would see the day that the Princess of Gryffindor would rule over the Demon of Slytherin.”

You can’t help but smirk, a rush of warmth blooming in your chest.“I suppose there is a balance between a roar and whisper after all.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[simspaghetti]

This has been a long time coming, I've been wanting to make something like this for ages and I finally had some time over the weekend to get it done - I dunno how useful this will be for anyone else, but hopefully at least a few other people might find this template handy!

Here's a full size picture of what the blank template looks like:

I made a couple examples of what it can look like edited over screenshots - as you can see you can just resize the boxes & text as you like to get the ideal final product:

Instructions for use:

This is a .psd file, and as such it needs to be opened in an editing tool that allows that file format - I personally use photopea which is a free online alternative to adobe photoshop - Disclaimer: I haven't tried using it any other editing software like photoshop / gimp but it'll probably work in there too, if you have any problems in those apps lmk and I'll try and fix it!

Each section of the template is separated into folders, open these up and you can edit the text / image elements for each section, you'll need to hide and unhide layers to be able to do this (the little eye icon next to a layer toggles it to be hidden / unhidden)

If you need to resize the boxes, make sure to hold down the shift-key so that you're able to do it more precisley

I have included icons for every career in the sims 3 including all of the expansion packs, however I have not included the skill images you might need as that would be a bit too extensive

For the skill images, I recommend downloading this ultimate icon collection from ModTheSims, as it'll almost definetly have everything you could possibly need to use :)

Terms of Use:

Please don’t claim as your own or reupload without my permission, I’d love to see you use them in your game if you do choose to tag me - but that's totally optional :) Alter and customize the templates literally however you want, but if you’re gonna reupload a downloadable variation of them I’d appreciate a link back to my blog

Download Here (Simfileshare, .psd file)

The font used for this template is DM Sans, it can be found in all variations here - I only used 'bold' & 'bold italic'

Credits: Heavily inspired by the gorgeous Clean UI created by JustMiha, as well as these promotion templates for TS4 by CupidJuice - and thanks to TheSpiritRealm on MTS for compiling all the icons I used - and total credit goes to EA / Maxis for the icon designs as well I did not make those lol

[vegafan69]

☆ aaron headcanons !!

sfw and nsfw !! i louv aaron sm omg stop i need more of him he's so kitten kawaii nya daddy alpha sigma

sfw ;;

he loves motor racing games, driving ruthlessly during battles but never in real life. beats the fuck out of the honk button whenever someone annoys him on the streets

he had to save up money and toggled jobs a lot as a kid (canon) and he feels bad for not being able to buy elliott and himself nice food and toys. now that he’s financially stable, he randomly sends eli some money as a treat. he just says it’s a treat but truly he just wants to make up for the past (WAHHHHHHHH)

he hates alcoholics thanks to his mom

he tries to take care of smartass, eli and sunshine cause he never had a father figure :(

he’s actually really good with children, he knows how to care and make them stop crying. he might seem a little annoyed at a child crying but they make him really soft

he likes being the little spoon occasionally

he’s allergic to dogs but wants one :3 he would get a beagle or a chihuahua

he started to actually learn to make food after moving in with smartass. he’s not bad at it but he often overdoes the seasoning

he has brown curly ish hair, and smartass likes to twirl it

aaron started to catch feelings for smartass after a few heart to heart convos :3 <3

aaron have had many people, especially boys have crushes on him during high school. but he was always occupied with taking care of himself and elliott, therefore never had time to think of crushes.

(pre dating) smartass cried silently during work once. aaron let them cry in his shoulders, his back backed against a hidden corner in the office. that was the moment where he realized he felt more than just ‘hatred’ for them.

aaron has/had (?) a heart to heart convo with sunshine, hearing how soft and gentle they are with elliott makes him happy and somber, regretting some of the times he yelled at his lil bro (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

nsfw ;;

he loves teasing and frustrating his brat, tugging their hair backwards and humiliating them ;) he can humiliate this pussy anytime

DADDY KINK. I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW HARD HE GETS WHEN HE CALLS HIMSELF DADDY. DADDY I’LL TAKE UR COCK SO WELL OH MY GODDDD.

“You wanna be a good slut for daddy?” YES DADDY I WILL BE A GOOD SLUT FOR YOU OH MY EIWOSOCPWPJDDKHDKSHDEJDH

spanking and random hits on the skin :3

his body melts once being overstimulated, unable to speak a word

they both have thought of fucking each other so badly (when smartass was still under aaron’s management). they both would get REAL angry and horny when they get off work

smartass notices aaron’s neck and hands a lot - and he knows it. he wears nice necklaces and rings to get their attention almost daily. and he occasionally takes them off too cause it’s hot. im doing it are you

smartass begged to put a toy in him. he let them. he liked it but will not admit it. get pregnant bossman

he would have glasses of water next to the bed. cause you need to hydrate during sex 🤓☝️

taglist @mokozroach @dukecollinsbf @infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt @everything-redacted00 @laskosprettygirl @achios @porters-fangs @ilovealotofwomen @jaxfart @lexdoesntdraw @chmease @darlin-collins @annahxredaxted @breezysuffers @ashertickler

[gotchi-blog]

Sumikko Friend Review

This will be a long one. I never really thought that I will own any virtual pet that isn't Tamagotchi. But then I saw Sumikko Friend and I couldn't stop thinking about it for months, until I got a chance to buy it. It was pricey, true, but after having it for a while I can say - it's worth it.

General score: 9/10

Design

First off, I really love the design. The toy is of similar size as a colour-screen Tamagotchi, but it's way lighter. The back is flat - you can rest the device comfortably on a table or other surface, however most of the interactions use the motion sensor, so get ready to hold your new buddy a lot. It ever has little leg-like bumps to avoid scratching the back.

The screen is the same size as Tamagotchi's, but it differs when it comes to the display. Sumikko screen is way softer, with pastel colours. Very nice to look at, especially if you're a fan of pastel aesthetics. However, it's a pain to take a good photo of it - the contrast is too low to make the details of the background as well-visible as in real life. It's a shame. I want people to see how pretty the rooms and animations are! Especially since some of the wallpapers for the rooms are animated, something I've never seen in Tamagotchi.

The brightness settings are alright. The sound is a bit worse - the device is quite loud even at the lowest setting. And it makes a lot of sounds - games, animations, Friend Mode. There is always some squeaking to be done. Fortunately, the sounds are all very pleasant, so it's actually a very nice experience. Just remember to mute it in public. Another trick is to simply cover the speaker at the back with your finger - that's not really possible with Tamagotchi, where the speakers are more hidden.

The device comes with 2 covers - Tokage and Shirokuma. I will elaborate on their functions later on. Here I just want to say that they are so pretty. The designs are simple and very cute. Especially the Shirokuma cover gets me - the little ears are just adorable. The plastic used is solid, matte and smooth, very pleasant to touch.

Finally, there are 2 physical buttons and one touch one, hidden at the top of the device. The left button is used to choose, the right one to confirm, and the touch button on top is the cancel one. The buttons are responsive and nice to touch. The touch one is very sensitive and works very well.

2. Basic idea behind the device

Sumikko Friend is my first non-Tamagotchi virtual pet, so I had to adjust to a different gameplay. The most important difference is that your characters don't evolve nor grow up. You have 2 pets in this model: Tokage (a blue water dragon who pretends to be a lizard) and Shirokuma (a polar bear who moved south due to disliking cold climate.) They don't change - the goal of taking care of them is to become good friends. They don't grow old nor leave. The true fun is playing and interacting with the characters. There are a few levels of friendship and they are increased by playing, feeding and petting Tokage and Shirokuma.

Another important goal is to collect pictures of Sumikko characters, foods and toys. It's done through using traps - there are quite a lot of them. You can either buy them or get them through Outing (another feature I will elaborate on later while talking about the main menu.) This part of the gameplay is cute, though not the most engaging. I often forget about it, but once I remember, I have to admit - the Sumikko illustrations are very cute.

So yeah, your buddies won't die if you mistreat them. They might run away, though. Still, getting them back is not difficult. Generally, Sumikko Friend is not that demanding when it comes to attention it needs.

3. Sumikko Rooms and Basic Care

Here you have an overview of the menu. We'll start with the Sumikko Rooms.

There are 2 of them - Tokage's and Shirokuma's. The characters sit, sleep and play there. You can toggle between them with the left button. The right one opens the care menu. Here you can feed, play the games that use the covers, clean the room, use the shower, check the stats and go Outing. You can also give toys to your pets and change the room wallpaper/furniture.

What's important about feeding is that both characters have their favourite/disliked foods. The favourite foods will fill up the hunger meter faster, while the disliked foods will get rejected and not eaten. You can check which items are liked/disliked by each character online (I highly recommend checking out the English translation of the manual made by Fuzzy N Chic - it includes the foods and care tips too.)

Showering and cleaning the room is needed more often if you play the games a lot. Especially the room dusting is important - if you don't do it often enough, the dust will block your screen and make it impossible to play until you clean it.

Remodel allows you to change the wallpaper and the furniture in the left corner of the screen. Some of the wallpapers are unlocked through increasing the friendship meter, some are obtained through Outing. The furniture can be either bought in the Sumikko Market or obtained through Outing as well. The wallpapers are usually animated - it's a beautiful detail. The moving swing or a tree rustling in the wind are very cute.

The toys unlock new idle animations. They are adorable - I especially love the doll house and knitting ones. While knitting, the characters take a break to stare at you, which feels like a real interaction that happen when your pet realises that you're watching them play. Very sweet.

Outing is a very interesting feature. While using it, the screen shows a map. When you walk around with the Sumikko device in your pocket/backpack, the little pin on the map moves around. In the top left corner, you see the counter of the circles walked around the map. The device actually reacts to shaking, so if you want to, you can simulate taking walks by shaking it (lazy!) In the Outing mode, the characters collect food, toys, furniture and traps for catching Sumikko.

The Friend Games: there are 5 games. They are quite simple and fun. 4 of them use the movement sensor, which makes them more interactive.

Imitating Freeze: the character makes a sequence of dance moves. Your task is to repeat them but tilting the device in the right directions

Look this way: very similar to the first one, but quicker and without the sequence part. The character's face moves in a direction. Your job is to tilt the device in the same direction

Frilly Dancing: this one will make your hand hurt. Shake the poor creature up and down as fast as you can. The goal is to set a new record when it comes to the number of shakes in the given game time

Minikko Hide & Seek: the bean-shaped thing will hide in your room. Your task is to find it. Do it by tilting the device left or right. The ringing sound will become faster once you approach the bean. When you find it, the Sumikko will have a happy face. Touch the top of the cover to end the game

Smile Stop: the only game that doesn't use the motion sensor. Stop the changing Sumikko faces on a happy or neutral one. Do it by touching the top of the cover. Pro tip: the happiest face always comes after the frowned one. Once you see the frown, get ready to click

Finally, the Friend Check option is just to check the stats. It shows you the Friend level and hunger. I was slightly surprised that the stats are the last option. On the other hand, you don't really need to check what's going on - the characters will let you know what's wrong through animations.

The Sumikko wake up at 6 am and fall asleep at 8 pm. Good for students, not that good for lazy cucks who have nothing better to do. Well, the toy is meant for a younger audience, so I can't blame them. Still, I'd prefer if they went to sleep a bit later.

4. Traps

The next option in the main menu is the Sumikko catching. To start, you need some traps. The metal claw is free and unlimited, but the rest you need to either buy at the market or get from Outing. There are a few methods of using the traps - that depends on what's displayed on the screen. Sometimes you need to tilt the device, sometimes click a button. Just pay attention to the animation on the screen.

As I've mentioned in the second segment, the point of this feature is to obtain cute Sumikko illustrations. There isn't anything more to it, but it's still nice.

Sometimes, you will randomly get a chance to draw a special price, usually a food item or another trap. Also, sometimes a wild Sumikko or Minikko appears and you can catch them for free.

5. Settings

Quite self-explanatory. Here you can set the date, time, your birthday, brightness, sound, use the secret passwords and reset the device.

The remarkable thing are the secret codes. They aren't numeric, like in Tamagotchi, but consist of a few shapes that you need to arrange in the correct order. It's hard to find them, especially since the device is quite unknown in western countries, but I found this website that has some:

Also, the Fuzzy N Chic review video on YT includes the code from a gift card that was attacked to some sets. Unfortunately, I didn't get one in mine.

6. Sumikko Market

Here you can buy food, toys, furniture and traps. You'll be here quite often - Tokage and Shirokuma eat a lot. The prices are fine, so don't worry too much about that even if you don't play games too often.

The toy and furniture offer is small, since most of it is obtained through Outing.

7. Game centre

As you can easily guess, here you can find gamest. None of them demands the covers, so they are pretty comfortable and quick. I will quickly go over them here. Each game has 2 modes - easy and hard. The "hard" mode isn't really that hard, but it gives you more Sumikko coins, so usually I go with it. Interesting thing - you can play the games even once the Sumikko are asleep, Good for insomniacs, I suppose.

Shirokuma's Apple Harvest: tilt the device left and right to catch all the apples. Avoid acorns - they hurt Shirokuma and slow it down

Penguin's? Long Distance Run: tilt the device to make Penguin? run and collect stars. Reach the finish line before the time runs out. Avoid the holes - they make you lose instantly

Neko's Sumikko Eats: tilt the device up and down to avoid the bushes and eat the foods. The cat food gives you more energy than onigiri

Tokage's Gem Collecting: my personal favourite. Tilt the device in different directions to control the fat lizard as it collects the gems in the water. Watch out for the jellyfish - they will hurt and slow you down!

Tonkatsu's Happy Dance: fried bits will come from left and right. Once they are in the circle, click left or right button to throw them off

Sumikko Roulette Fortune: click left or right button to stop the roulette. Various characters give you different points. This game is the easiest but gives very few Sumikko coins

8. Library

Here you can see all the pictures/items you've collected. Each has a short description. Not the most interesting if you don't read Japanese, but they are quite adorable.

9. Friend Mode

When you put on one of the covers, your device goes into the Friend mode. The face of the character is displayed on the screen and you can interact with them. This is necessary to keep them happy throughout the day - nothing will replace physical touch. Pet them, rock them to the sides and press on their hands. They love it, especially the petting.

Pro-tip: rocking won't work unless the Sumikko is already happy. Just pet them with gentle stroked on top of the device, giving them breaks to return to regular face. Once they start blushing after some petting, it means they are happy. Then you can rock them too.

In my experience, Shirokuma is more demanding in care than Tokage - they go hungry at the same time but Shirokuma gets upset faster.

10. Conclusion

Generally, I highly recommend getting Sumikko Friend. It's unique and amazing to play with. You just can't get enough of looking at it. You can get some decent offers on eBay (that's where I got mine.) The gameplay is very different from Tamagotchi, but it's a welcome fresh breeze. I absolutely love it and it made me want to take further look into the Sumikko franchise

🌸

[bambiraptorx]

I am curious, why is Draxum so protective and secretive over his mask and anyone seeing his face in your MI AU? is his mask like a safe object since he is written to be neurodivergent?

There's a couple of different reasons, and one of them definitely is that is a safety/comfort object for him. Backstory-wise, he's had it for centuries, making it one of the possessions he's held onto the longest. Given how much he used to travel, it might be the only one he's managed to hang onto. It was also probably a gift from someone he cared about, and likely the only thing he has to remind him of them.

Also, the sensory blocking spell he cast for Mikey in ch 17? Draxum uses that kind of spell himself, usually casting more than one and using his mask as a sort of focal point. (Also he can toggle the spells on and off, so it's kinda like constantly carrying noise-canceling headphones around for him? But for other senses too? I'm still fleshing out the mechanics lol)

But another reason for the mask? Well, he's masking, literally as well as figuratively. He's hiding his 'true' self (one that, as shown in season 2, is more expressive and outright emotional). He doesn't feel comfortable revealing his actual face or even having it acknowledged that he's hiding a pretty important part of himself, but also? He wears the mask so much that he thinks of it as his actual face. His self-perception is so rooted in hiding a part of himself that he no longer thinks of it as hidden--he doesn't think about it at all.

This is more or less why Leo hasn't seen Draxum's actual face yet, even though he's been waking Draxum up at ridiculous hours of the night for a while now. Draxum wakes up and puts the mask on like a pair of glasses, and once he has it on he essentially forgets he's wearing it. Yes, part of it is that on some level Draxum doesn't like or want the vulnerability of showing Leo his face, but he's so used to wearing it that it feels more like him than his real face does.

TLDR: it's a symbol of Draxum's neurodivergence, but also kind of a metaphor for him masking and maybe sort of about his internalized ableism? Which is complicated, but hey, that's how being ND is sometimes.

[mydarling-iv]

Hello! Here's a few things:

1. I love your work, but I think a couple might have gone missing? :(

2. Are you taking requests at the moment?

3. Regarding the above- I never thought I'd say something like this, but would you mind doing a BOTW Link x fem!reader song fic to Metallica's The Unforgiven II? I feel like it fits surprisingly well given the setting and circumstances 😔

hello love!

first, some readers may not be able to see my fics because i was and perhaps still am shadow-banned so some of my works require more effort to find.

i know that is the case for where the shooting star falls, meet me there and both installments of the goddesses, he wants you mini series. they’re hidden away because tumblr really had to shit on my parade LMAO.

but other factors can also affect whether my works makes it to you and one prominent one is making sure you’re able to see posts marked mature and you can toggle that on in your tumblr settings on a web browser.

otherwise, for my works, since i barely post, you can literally just scroll down my page till you hit my first work published, where the shooting star falls, meet me there, and just read from there. but you can also use my hashtag, #𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.°♡༉‧₊ to filter my works from my letters!

i don’t have a masterlist as of now but it’s currently in the works, i’ve just been too busy with adjusting to working and college life lmao so hopefully, the masterlist and rules will be posted soon :0

second, i do not take requests. this blog is more of an outlet where i freely post any fics i started writing and such. though i do not take requests, you and other readers are freely able to drop a letter in the letter box, whether it be an idea, imagine, or basically anything you want to share with me, the letter box is completely open for you. there will be some instances where someone drops in a letter that may inspire me to write a full blown fic and if that is the case, the anon/user who sent in the idea/prompt will be properly credited :]

third, though it does pertain to the second question i answered, i just listened to the song you recommended and stars, the lyrics do speak to me because it does provide good angst material. though i do have to kindly deny your request, golden child, lion boy and its sister fic in the works, fearless child, broken boy do fit the lyrics of metallica’s the unforgiven ii so i hope that indirectly satisfies a bit of your request :)

thank you again for kindly asking whether i take requests or not, i really appreciate you talking to me before you actually requested. i’m also extremely thankful for your support as every like, comment, reblog, etc. does not go unnoticed by me! :] <3

with love,

iv.

[ufuckingpastry]

Laced Up in Gold

AO3 Link | Kink: Corset

Summary: Cellbit has a date with Roier later and he wants to look his best for his husband. He decides to wear a corset for the evening, but full-torso corsets are a bit difficult to get into by yourself. Thankfully, Forever has agreed to lend his help.

. . .

Cellbit breathed in slowly, one eye on his map as he watched Forever approach the gates. He saw Forever’s dot hesitate and he straightened as he realized; he toggled his location back on and Forever’s dot started moving again. He meant to do it earlier, but other things occupied his mind. He could feel them now, still warring in his head as they vied for his full attention. His gaze drifted over his shoulder and he turned to face one of those things now. The corset rested on an armor stand, its fabric pristine. The metal framing caught the fading light of the setting sun, glinting back at him. He was still considering it when Forever ducked in through the doorway.

“Hey-yaaa,” Forever called, catching Cellbit’s attention away from the corset like a flag caught in the wind.

He turned back towards the doorway, the armor stand hidden behind his back, the clink of armor audible as the other man pulled his off. Cellbit’s own armor was set aside; he didn’t have to worry about much within his own castle, and it would only get in the way. He greeted Forever back with a smile that was far too easy to pull up.

“You said you needed some help?” Forever asked, stopping a little ways from Cellbit.

“Yes,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze shifted back to Forever, who’s own face now contorted into growing worry. Cellbit continued quickly, hoping to prevent Forever from jumping to the wrong conclusion. “I have a date with Roier tonight and I, uh…” His face heated in a moment of embarrassment. He heard a soft huff, and he breathed his own sigh of relief. At least that seemed to settle Forever’s sudden worry into the background. Good. “I wanted to surprise him,” he said and took a step to the side.

Forever’s gasp was far louder in his ears than it probably was, and the heat of his earlier embarrassment came back full force. 

Cellbit gestured to the corset. “Unfortunately, I think I’ll need some help getting laced up. And, well,” he huffed a laugh and lifted his gaze up to meet Forever’s. “I remember you being rather good with your hands.”

Forever’s face cracked into a wide grin, mischief written across it. “Yeah, I remember you really enjoying my hands on you,” he teased, then stepped up to the armor stand. “Are you planning on wearing anything else with this, or is this it?” He paused, his fingers trailing down the fabric. “I think we’ve still got those cat ears somewhere.”

“Absolutely not!” Cellbit glared at him as he burst into a fit of laughter. He narrowed his eyes at Forever, then went to unbutton his shirt. “Of course I’m wearing something else with it. I just figured this will take the longest time, so I should get it on first.”

“Uh-huh,” Forever replied, his gaze lingering as Cellbit undressed. “I don’t disagree with you. I’m sure this will take some time, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to bend over with this on. Besides,” he hummed, then tapped the edge of the corset. “Unless you’re going for something really kinky, you’ll want something under this.”

Cellbit’s face heated with the continued conversation, but Forever usually knew what he was talking about. He trusted his opinion and his suggestions. It was why they worked together so well, why they campaigned together for the elections. He sighed, then gestured with his hand for Forever to continue.

Instead, though, the man held up his hand, then dropped down a backpack. He knelt down to dig through it, pulling out some spare clothes. He’d consider one first, then either hand it Cellbit to hold or shove it back in. It took some extra time, but soon enough Cellbit’s arms were full of fabric. Forever jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get you into something nice for Roier, huh?”

. . .

Nearly twenty minutes later and Cellbit was in an outfit that they both approved of. He picked at the puffy sleeves of his new shirt as Forever re-organized the clothing inside the backpack. It didn’t cling to his figure, but it definitely accentuated it. The fabric was nice as well; soft and smooth, keeping the heat against his body where it belonged without it feeling stifling. It was far better than what he had originally picked out. It was thin enough that wearing the corset over top of it was unlikely to pinch or otherwise be uncomfortable for an extended period of time. 

Speaking of the corset…

Cellbit traced the framing of it with his finger, reminded that he still had to put it on. At least Forever was still here to help him. He imagined what Roier would think, how surprised he’d be. He remembered Roier joking once about wanting to be able to touch his fingers around Cellbit’s waist.

Warmth around his waist reminded him of his guest. Arms slipped around his torso as Forever reached for him. Cellbit didn’t resist as Forever’s fingers ran over his shirt, the heat of the other man apparent through the thin fabric. “I will admit,” he said as he reached for Forever’s wrists to pause their exploration. “I think this outfit suits me far better than the one I planned on.”

“Good,” Forever replied, leaning in closer. “You still want those cat ears?”

“You still want a bloody nose?” Cellbit asked in return. Forever’s laugh ruffled his hair and then he stepped away to take the corset off the armor stand. Cellbit watched for a moment as he ran his fingers over the red and gold fabric, then turned to face his back towards Forever.

Even with the shirt against his skin, he felt his flesh heat as Forever’s gaze returned to him, lingering over the curve of his spine. He felt Forever step closer, old instincts making him almost turn to face him, to keep his back to a wall. But then Forever’s hand rested on his shoulder and Cellbit exhaled slowly. Heat radiated in through his shirt, warming his skin. Forever’s hand drifted down from his shoulder, fabric shifting in his hands as he handled the corset. 

Even with all his senses heightened and focused on the man at his back, Cellbit still startled when a hand appeared in his line of sight close to his stomach. He reflexively pulled his stomach in away from the hand, only to relax again when Forever’s breath warmed the back of his neck. The hand reached around his stomach and the corset now came into view.

It was split in two pieces, with clip buttons on the front and holes to lace up the back. The fabric was a deep shade of red with lengths of black along the sides, all accentuated with golden fabric. The clips were gold plated and polished until they shined.

“Arms,” Forever said from behind him. Cellbit’s gaze drifted up to the side of each piece. There were holes for the arms. Forever held up one piece as Cellbit gathered up his sleeve to keep it from catching and slid his arm through. He repeated the action with the next piece. Forever pulled both pieces until the fabric rested on his shoulders, then tapped Cellbit’s side. “I’ll get the laces if you clip these.”

Cellbit nodded, his voice caught in his throat. Steel stiffened the corset where it laid under the gold fabric, and he in turn stiffened as it settled on his shoulders. He focused his attention on the clips, silent as he completed his task. Once he was done, he breathed in slowly. On the exhale, Forever returned, and his hands were back on his shoulders. He smoothed out the fabric, his touch lingering as his hands slid down his sides to his hips. 

“Roier is a lucky man,” Forever commented, his voice quiet. Breathless, almost. Cellbit smiled. Yeah, he supposed he was. “Should I make it difficult for him to untie you?” There was a laugh in Forever’s voice, a teasing lilt as he moved away from Cellbit’s back.

“I think you’ll make it difficult no matter what I say,” he replied. Forever laughed again.

They fell into comfortable silence again for a time. Forever worked on getting the laces into the holes close to his lower back, then adjusting the lengths until they were even. And then, with a gentle tap on his side again, Forever started lacing him up. 

It was a slow process, one where Cellbit could tell most of Forever’s attention was on keeping the lengths even and keeping the fabric smooth against his body. He appreciated it, because it meant he could focus on other things. Like how every so often Forever would curse and redo a loop. Or how he would pull the lengths tighter and tighter until Cellbit’s breath hitched. The first time it happened, he didn’t say a word about it. The second time, he swore he could feel Forever’s smile, feel him grinning at his back. The third time made him swear and Forever immediately tightened the laces again. 

It was hard to breathe in deeply by the time he reached his shoulder blades. He could, but every time his lungs expanded to a certain point, he could feel the fabric itself resist the action. His breath hitched again and Forever’s hands pressed to his back. He waited for another yank, another squeeze against his ribs, the ever tightening fabric around his body until he was gasping for breath…

But instead, all he received was the feeling of Forever’s lips against the back of his neck. He felt him grin against his skin and then the heat against his back was gone. Forever stepped into view, leaning back on his heel as he took in his work. Cellbit couldn’t slump back, couldn’t shift much without feeling the fabric pull against the action. It felt good to be made to stand straight like this, to feel the restriction against taking a full breath. He lifted his hands to his sides and attempted to wrap his fingers around until they touched. Forever hummed, interested, and stepped forward. The warmth of his hands returned, covering Cellbit’s with his own, and he tried to touch his fingers around his waist.

“Hm, maybe soon,” he commented. “Unless you want me to undo the laces and see how tight you can go before you break?”

Cellbit’s gaze flicked up to Forever’s heated stare. He considered the look in his eyes, but soon took a step back. “Maybe another time, Forever,” he said, reaching for his belongings. “Tonight, that decision will be Roier’s to make.”

[allthingsfook]

I was curious if I could get a ship! I work as a nurse (I really love helping people when they are at their most vulnerable) and am 5’5” have brown eyes, auburn hair and pale skin (I cannot tan at all, I just burn 🤣). I love reading especially Jane Austen. I love Star Wars and I love going to live music shows! I’m most excited to see Hozier this fall! I have a black kitty named Gibson and love fall and winter oddly enough. I also just love spending genuine time with friends whether that be at a bar or at home or somewhere else! Thank you :)

Heyyyy! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten around to your ships! I have an inbox full that I’m hoping to rock out in the next few days.

I ship you with….

Jake ❤️

To start off, the most attractive thing he’s ever said is if he wasn’t in the music industry, he’d want to work in healthcare…. As a nurse I find that extremely attractive as I’m sure you do as well 😂 I feel like Jake has such an unwavering love of people and distinguished care for others well being. It’s no shock he’d see himself in a healthcare role. Wonder what he would specifically do…. You should let me know what you think!!

Your physical description reminds me of a character from the Victorian era, and to which Jake would constantly reference when complimenting you. How timeless and pure you are. Whether you believe so or not, Jake would always be around to offer his praises.

Over and over again I’ll sing how much of a bookworm Jake is! I can envision Jake retreating to a dim-lit, moody library hidden in the depths of his gorgeous home. Between the two of you, the room would be packed from floor to ceiling with literature. He’d spend hours obsessing over everything from history to lore to autobiographies. Time would often get away from him, and he’d emerge hours later…. Feeling stimulated and refreshed to flip the crisp pages through his fingers. Psssst!!!! Don’t even think about Jake finally breaking down and getting glasses for reading…. 🤭 I’ll torture you and include a visual at the end!!!

All the boys are such nerds, so there is no doubt in my mind Jake would love to sit down and binge Star Wars when he comes home. I can see you setting up a whole experience to make it something Jake thinks about for months afterwards. You’d lower the lights but program the mood lighting to toggle between blue and red. You’d make a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch… don’t forget your Yoda, Chewbacca, and Darth Vader plushies. You’d lay a whole spread of snacks out on the coffee table, Star Wars themed of course! You might even throw your hair in braided buns for him 😉

Compared to Sam and Danny, Jake’s lack of affection toward puppies makes me think he might be a cat guy. He’d obsess over Gibson! Obviously! It would melt your heart to come home to Jake kicking back, strumming his beloved Gibson while Gibson is stretched out at his side! Wouldn’t take long for them to become best buds, and not gunna lie you might be a little jealous of their bond!!!

If Jake were a season, he’d easily either be fall or winter. His whole persona and attitude is so mystic and sometimes cold. Looking back on all the high school photos of him, Jake seems to enjoy winter especially. I’m sure he would love to go on a little winter get away and go skiing, snowboarding or even take you to Frankenmuth for the whole holiday experience!

To round out this ship, all the boys are so dedicated to their friends and family. They would do anything to make them feel special and cherish their relationships. I think Jake, most of all, has a huge soft spot for people close to him. Just judging that on all the matching bracelets and necklaces he shares with his loved ones. I live for all the old photos of him and josh being front row at Kelly’s gigs. Settling down with you and creating a little family, I think he would be more apt to going home to visit mom and dad and his grandparents. Through him you would gain some very special people in your life too.

Well I really hope you enjoyed your ship as you hate to wait an eternity for it! Please let me know what you think! I always love to hear your reactions. It means the world 💕

[manonamora-if]

Hi! Is there a way to display a notification like "New!" when the player unlocks something (like in a codex) and then for it to disappear after they click on it? I thought of messing around with hasVisited but not sure if it would work well

I am not sure whether you mean notifications like popping on the screen and disappear, or next to a link until that next page is visited. So I'll include all I know :P

As always, the code below can be found in my PasteBin.

TLDR: similar principle to notify for Achievements, but more options.

Note: if the return to the story is done by using the <<back>> macro or the <- arrow in the sidebar, the story will retrace its steps and undo the previous actions (as if the player never visited those passage).

Notifications on the Story Page

First part: the notifications you'd get on the main page to notify you of codex changes. There are essentially 3 ways of doing this: Chapel's macro, Sjoerd's macro, and just some text on the page. I will touch upon those options, then how to code it to only appear once.

Chapel's Notify Macro (Timed)

I've touched upon this macro in this coding ask, as well as having a setting to toggle them on/off for player to display or not during their playthrough.

Note: Chapel's macro is not the best for text readers, since it lingers hidden on the HTML code after being triggered once.

Sjoerd's Flash Macro (Timed)

Built with ARIA features in mind, and work better with screen readers, Sjoerd Flash macro works similarly to Chapel's, with extra features: clickable removal, different themes, different location to appear, etc... (you can find the full lists of arguments on the github page)

The base code use is as follow:

<<flash "You found Maxine!">> <</flash>>

Plain Text on the Page

That's pretty much it, the title says it all.

Now if you want to make it more fancy, you can always wrap the text in a span/div, defined a class, and customise its appearance in CSS (stylesheet).

< div class = "notification" > This would be a notification. < / div >

Only display the notification once

If the player goes back to a passage more than once, but you don't want them to be notified after the first time, you can use either a simple variable, something like the Flag Event, or the visited() function in a conditional statement.

<<if $var is true>>[code of the notification of choice]<</if> can also work with : <<if $var>>, <<if def $var>>, <<if $var is (whatever you defined it as)>>

Note: the Flag Event works in a similar fashion too.

<<if visited("Name of the current passage") is 1>>[Code of the notification of choice]<</if>>

visited() counts the number of time a passage has appeared in the player history. When the passage is first shown, visited() will equal to 1. Increase that number in the conditional statement, and the notification will only appear when the player has seen that passage X times.

Note: the hasVisited() function will not work in this case, it will show the text every time. This function only checks if the passage is in your history, no matter the amount of times you've seen that passage.

Notification next to a link towards an unvisited passage

This part will be very similar to the one just above, but with hasVisited() added to the mix.

What you'd essentially want is having an extra bit of text (or emoji, or whatever you want) next to your link to show that this page is new to the player and unread. While there are different ways of doing at it, the basic logic goes as follow:

[[link|to Passage]]<<if condition>>NEW~<</if>>

Options to code the Conditional Statement

VARIABLES

You can use a simple variable that was set in the story page, which will be unset when the player visits the page.

:: Story <<set $var to true>> :: Codex [[link|Page]]<<if $var>>NEW~<</if>> :: Page <<unset $var>>

But, you might ask, what if the player returns to the story and the variable reset itself as true? Two options:

<<if visited("Story") is 1>><<set $var to true>><</if>> or [[link|Page]]<<if $var && (not hasVisited("Page"))>>NEW~<</if>>

The first one will only set the variable when the player visits the codex for the first time, while the second show the notification only if the Codex page hasn't been visited.

An alternative with setting the variable:

:: Story <<if visited("Story") is 1>><<set $var to "unread">><</if>> :: Codex [[link|Page]]<<if $var is "unread">>NEW~<</if>> :: Page <<set $var to "read">> OR <<unset $var>>

This same principle works if you use an object or an array or the Flag Event.

PREVIOUSLY HIDDEN LINK

Now, what if the link you are displaying was hidden before the player reached a certain part of the story. You could just use the hasVisited() function.

<<if condition for showing the link>> [[link|Page]]<<if not hasVisited("Page")>>NEW~<</if>> <<else>>Not available<</if>>

SHOW A PAGE HAS BEEN UPDATED

What if you want to have a notification every time that page has been updated, and show a different word depending on whether the page first appeared or has been updated or is complete, that's possible too!

We'll take the alternative example from just above.

:: Story 1 <<if visited("Story 1") is 1>><<set $var to "new">><</if>> :: Codex [[link|Page]]\ <<if $var is "new">>NEW~\ <<elseif $var is "update">>UPDATED~\ <<elseif $var is "complete">>COMPLETED~\ <</if>> :: Page &lt;<set $var to "read">> OR <<unset $var>> :: Story 2 <<if visited("Story 2") is 1>><<set $var to "update">><</if>> :: Story 3 <<if visited("Story 3") is 1>><<set $var to "complete">><</if>>

If you have multiple links that will use this system, I'd advise you to use object variables instead of simple variables (to avoid overloading the save system and make the game slow).

:: StoryInit <<set $link to {}>> :: Story 1 <<if visited("Story 1") is 1>><<set $link.fish to "new">><</if>> :: Codex [[link|Page]]<<if $link.fish is "new">>NEW~<</if>>

MAKE IT A WIDGET BECAUSE THIS IS A LOT OF CODE

The more you have links, or the more complicated the code you are using, the harder it is to read through a passage. To make it easier/cleaner, let's use a widget instead.

<<widget "notiflink">> <- just one link/variable <<if $var is "unread">>NEW~<</if>> <</widget>>

Note: instead of $var is "unread" you can put any other conditions, as shown in the examples above.

<<widget "notiflink">> <- multiple links/variables <<if _args[0] is "unread">>NEW~<</if>> <</widget>> <<widget "notiflink">> <- more than one state <<if _args[0] is "new">>NEW~ <<elseif _args[0] is "update">>UPDATED~ <<elseif _args[0] is "complete">>COMPLETED~ <</if>> <</widget>>

And to display it:

[[link|Page]] <<notiflink>> <- one link [[link|Page]] <<notiflink $var>> <- multiple

Bonus: HiEv's Menu

And then there's HiEv's Menu of his Sample Code Page:

In this Sample Code Menu, HiEv uses a widget and further JavaScript functions to check when a page has been visited. You won't find it on one of his page, as this code was made especially for his menu. But if you download it and open it on Twine/Tweego, it's not too hard to get.

Side note: I've tried to go through it. While it makes sense, it is also super overwhelming and daunting to actually implement. I am sure it is possible to implement to a Codex, but you'd need to customise a lot of things. Not sure if it would be worth the troubles.

~~~

Hope that helps!

[phantom-witch]

Phantom's Finished: Metroid Dread (Replay)

This was an extremely interesting replaythrough! As I've been meaning to replay this and even want to revisit this later in the year...

That being said, this game is a lot weaker to me now for multiple reasons. I still think this game is really good! Just... Not great or fantastic as I felt on launch. Why is this? I wanna get into this by going over each element of the game (spoilers in the last section)

Before I go into each section, I want to emphasise I do enjoy a lot of this game! It's just as someone who enjoys super explorative freeing MetroidVania, I don't click as much with this anymore?

TLDR: I dislike how secretly guiding this games level design is but adore the combat

Combat & Controls:

This is easily my favourite element of Metroid Dread! It's not perfect as sometimes I find standard enemies get repetitive where the obvious counter kill to all of them. Which does good for pacing but not as good for having fun fights outside of boss fights.

The counter is a blessing and a curse as I feel it shouldn't instantly one shot and the telegraph shouldn't be as obvious sometimes as I feel like as soon as you found them it's nothing to deal with them! I wouldn't mind if some were like this but once you know ALL of the standard enemies are non-existent. And maybe the point is you learn to be able to accomplish them being nothing? Well I'd still like to feel I earned that and I don't honestly.

But that's the one negative I have and I would rather focus more on what I do like. These are some of my favourite Boss Fights in any video game as the encounters test your strength so amazingly without being unfair and this was no exception on this replay! I hope to replay in Hard Mode later on. The way you have to move around the enemy and can still shoot due to how tight the movement and aiming is results in not having to wait and hit (which a lot of games especially in the 16-bit era fall into). It is wonderful fighting encounters with mini bosses and bosses the like! I would only say one boss kinda stinks due to being underwater. The Final Boss especially really tests you so well and is one of my favourite final bosses in a game.

Visuals & Character Design:

This is easily the best part of this game. The lighting, colours and atmosphere absolutely sell this game for me. Everything knows when to look a certain way: the chill darkness of Burenia, the glowing orange tint of Cataris to the royal garbs of Ferenia. Especially how lighting reflects off Samus Aran's armour throughout the journey.

The only thing I would say for criticism is that the environments can sometimes share too much darker colours compared to previous Metroid games for me. I wish there was a tiny bit more distinction as it would have made this game's separate areas stand alongside other iconic areas in Metroid. However, I still really enjoy how distinct every room is so it isn't hard to memorise layouts compared to how other games and even Metroid games can. It's good for backtracking!

Another part of the visuals is character design! Samus has my favourite design at the start of this game and I wish you could toggle how you look in this game easier. The E.M.M.I are iconic and are even animated to their designs pitch perfectly, still reminding me the chills I once had. The main villain has an amazing design with subtle story hints hidden in them perfectly. I would love to one day play this on an OLED but I can't currently.

Exploration & Level Design:

Now, here comes the most negative part I have about this game. To begin I'll be positive by saying that as said in the controls section that moving through these environments are a thrill! I very much enjoy using my tools to go through the world of ZDR, especially involving platforming...

But then there lies the issue, what I love about the genre of MetroidVania is the different branching pathways you can go to find different abilities in different orders. This game really does not encourage this. It actively tries to guide you through a linear experience through the level design and you have to do super tricky things to break out of that path. I don't like having to go against the game to DO THIS! Sequence Breaking is fun but not when I have to do it to have a unique experience for a game trying to give me the same experience each time.

The level design is not made to split and allow for freedom of how you go about things, which bothers me as I play this genre mainly for a unique personalised experience. Game Maker's Toolkit goes really well into this too. I try so hard not to compare, but I can't help thinking how much I'd prefer to replay Hollow Knight over this! Because that game stops hand holding you after the first area and you can do so much in so many orders and the level design is beautifully made to work with this. I don't need full freedom but I want a degree of choice in the order I do things without going against the games design, even if it is limited at certain points! But Metroid Dread is limited so heavily the entire game that replaying is extremely hard for me now. If they didn't want people getting lost, then design the game better!! Don't actively prevent my exploration by guiding me to the next objective...

Everything else:

Not much else to say, but the audio design is very good! Music on the other hand is extremely weak as I don't remember anything that isn't from a previous games' motif. Story is super minimalistic and is enjoyable! However I do wish there was a more, a lot more in terms of world building about ZDR as I didn't feel I could pick up on anything not already told to me. The show don't tell phrase I wish applied here. However, I absolutely adored the animation in both cutscenes and whenever I hit a boss' weak point as that was all on point for me! I appreciate the difficulty options and boss rush they added but I wish we got a little paid DLC story afterwards as this game needed more story!

Conclusion:

As I conclude this review, I am extremely conflicted. I so appreciate this game existing, how different this game is atmospherically for Nintendo. But now I have things like Xenoblade 3 & Splatoon 3 which cover deep atmospheres still a lot more I find myself not needing this game as a constant. I super appreciate this miracle happening and still enjoy some specific stuff about this game! However, now I find myself not feeling the passion I did at launch and can't pretend I do. I just feel so conflicted as I think this game is fun but gosh is it not what I'm after anymore and that's okay. Tastes change and I've grown a lot over the last year and a bit since Metroid Dread originally came out. Raven Beak still rules though!! 💙

[callieami]

BP_AudioObject, making working video screens, taking inspiration to build a house, and the surprise guest-appearance of Barbara Finch...

This post will cover work we did last week, and the next post will be this week. To start things off, we needed some more assets to go with the atmospheric house pack, and perfectly available were some free use environment packs on the Unreal Marketplace for aspiring developers from the hit story game What Remains of Edith Finch (which is an amazing game by the way). For now the only pack I used was the Barbara pack, which includes the assets and environment for the bedroom of washed up child film-star Barbara Finch, as well as the associated bunker for her little brother Walter Finch.

Before we went too far with work on the house with this, this new pack gave us a very nice flipclock asset mesh, which was perfect for our next item to add: a working radio/sound-emitting object. We downloaded some free Radio interference audio, and used it to create a sound cue, then in the blueprint created an interactable object that allowed us to toggle the sound on and off when clicking the object. We also messed with the sound cue to allow it to be muffled when heard through surfaces and walls for additional realism, and to allow it to be hidden and then found.

With this piece complete, I spent the next day beginning to design a House to explore with the Atmospheric House pack and the new Barbara pack, similar to the test in our first unit of the semester. I really liked the layout and many of the features of the original house I made previously, so I decided to take that design and iterate on it to make it even better. Shown below are some screenshots from the original House I made a few months back that I used for reference.

This was a good base to work from, but to give me more to work with, I slightly increased the footprint of the house in order to add a flight of stairs to a second floor.

This gave me a bit more space to work with and I now had a larger more defined layout, with the Bottom Floor consisting of an entranceway/central hallway, a combined Bathroom/Toilet/Laundry and a semi divided Living Room and Kitchen expanded from the Original, and the Top Floor consisting of a central hallway, two standard bedrooms (one of which replicating the original bedroom), a master bedroom, and a Spare room that I'm not sure what to do with. As I designed the rooms, I incorporated interactable items to discover as I went, and also had to design a few new furniture blueprints based on what I made last week, including kitchen cabinets and cupboards, the bathroom sink, bedside tables and wardrobes. The rooms slowly began to have more distinct personalities on their occupants as I continued and the story developed. At this point we once again paused the building of the house to add another new item: a working screen/video player. To begin this we downloaded some free TV Static footage from a site called Vecteezy, and then we had to follow some specific steps and create a number of special components.

First we converted the video to a media source asset, then we had to create a media player actor to load it up and convert it to a media texture. we then used the texture to create an emissive material (which gives off light), which we could then finally use in a blueprint to create a working television with a repeating static video that can emit light!

Work on the project is beginning to ramp up, and I can't wait to see how it turns out!

[ezmagreen]

I manage to spend some time developing walls workflow. I think I made one that I like, but it may be an issue when designing rooms since it is a 3x3 tile wall and I probably will have a tile above it as a wall cap. That means that ~three tiles of the room would be hidden unless I make the wall vertical thickness 2-3 tiles.

I mean I can decide not to use the top edges and use the caps and have them as an optional upper design. Mostly the choice is having enough options without being redundant or requiring hackery lol.

I also decided to have a collision layer instead of having collisions in the walls. This is mostly because (I do not think) Godot have a way to toggle the collision of a single placed tile and to have collision on walls means I would need to duplicate them with collision (I dislike the alt tiles system. I just have a bad time with it messing up the tileset and are harder to read, but otherwise they could be used for that). With a separate layer, I can reuse similar collision shapes and profiles at the cost of another layer node being used. I would still use collision with ground like tiles. The collision tile layer is mostly to block out areas with invisible wall so even if I decided to try alt tiles again, the collision tile layer will still be useful. I notice for action and events that maybe I should use the metadata for the tag system or at least for the prototype. The idea is the tags will be a dictionary of named bitflags. An array of them would work too but require all the group to be known and other issues with dealing with space. So, since it will be a dictionary, the metadata seem good enough to fetch it from. This means tags will be grouped so they can be extended as well as be a bitflag int. I still need to test the battle system more(I been lazy and stressed), but yeah would need to design test to run for tags. I do admit I did think of a party member who would make use of them.

One ability (probably be called snuff) and it will cancel an (or all) effects tags with the fire tag as well as damage units with the fire_elemental flag. Also one(or most) of their ultimate (skills that use 100% sp) would do increase damage base on how many stacks of effects with the fire tag (maybe reduce the bonus with a check for the opposing tag). I do admit they may be a bit weak in short battles being a sub support that depends on stacking dots(of a single element). truth is fire is over used, but this character is not really meant to be used as a primary (but I would feel bad if I made her weak so she will be a quirky pyro who probably should stay away from water lol)

[bluetoothspeaker0120]

How do I connect my Zebronics (Best Bluetooth Speakers) to my computer?

First, turn on Bluetooth on your computer. Go to your start menu and search for settings. Then click on the Devices submenu and check Bluetooth. In the Bluetooth submenu, you'll see a slider that you can use to enable Bluetooth. Select your speaker from this list and click OK. You should now see an audio device called Zebronics Best Bluetooth Speakers in your list.

If you want to change the volume on your speakers, go to your Control Panel and right-click the volume icon. Choose Playback devices. You can click on the empty area and check for Hidden devices. After you've selected your device, click Configure and click on the Playback tab. You'll find a window with options to customize the volume level on the speakers. When you've made these changes, you should be able to hear the music through your speakers.

To plug in your speakers, you should use the speaker sockets on your computer tower. You'll find them by color coding. The green jack should go into the green socket, while the blackjack should be plugged into the black socket. Once the speakers are plugged in, you can turn on your computer. A small tune will play on your computer when you boot up.

To pair your speaker to your computer, you must ensure that your computer is Bluetooth-compatible. Most modern computers are, so make sure you select "Bluetooth" on your computer's system preferences. After you have completed this step, you can pair the speaker to your computer. When your speaker is paired to your computer, you can play music from your PC using it. If the speaker is not Bluetooth-compatible, you'll need to make sure that the device is disconnected from other devices.

The Bluetooth connection is easy to set up. Turn your speakers on and select "pairing mode." The speaker will then appear in your system's Bluetooth settings and be connected. Once the pair is complete, the speakers will automatically route audio from Windows 10 to your computer. To test the connection, your speakers must be near your computer. If you are using a Wi-Fi router, this could interfere with the connection.

Once the pairing process is complete, you should now be able to connect to your Zebronics speakers with Bluetooth. In Android, you need to toggle the Bluetooth switch on and enter the pairing code. Then, connect your device to your PC using a USB cable. Make sure to enable public and private Wi-Fi network settings on your PC. Afterward, install the server software. To set up the server, follow the on-screen instructions. Your speakers will be connected within a few minutes.

Once you've got the soundbar connected, the next step is to plug in your computer. In most cases, this requires a 3.5mm jack. You can use the speaker in FM mode as well. Just press the Play/Pause button once to scan for available FM channels. You should now be able to play music from your Zebronics speakers on your computer.

You should check the charging circuit of your speaker as well. If the battery has a loose connection, it will restrict the charging process. If you've used it for a couple of years, chances are the battery is too old. If the speaker battery is older than five years, it probably has reached its maximum charge cycle. To test the battery's capacity, try pressing "FN" + PUT" or "DEL" simultaneously. If you still can't connect your speakers, the speaker will work with an external power source.

When connecting your speakers to your computer, the speaker's right channel speaker will be the main one. The back of the right channel speaker usually has two wires: one of them connects to the left speaker and the other has a 3.5mm mini plug. Then, you'll connect the power cord of your speakers to a wall outlet or surge protector. Your computer's audio line-level output is usually lime green.

[tofufactorynightschool]

安居乐业; Getting Settled

I'm finally here!

But freeze frame, and rewind about 24 hours, getting on my first flight, to San Francisco, at 6AM. During the layover, I met about 5 people from the program, who were all super friendly (and who might all be way better than me at Chinese...so probably won't be seeing much of them in class at least). And I realized that my place, with just under a 20 minute walk to campus, was one of the closer options. It's in the Da'an district (hence the name of this post).

Then came the 13, maybe 14 hour flight. Agony. At one point my legs got so stiff I thought something was medically wrong with them.

During the combined flights, I finished four films (as well as quite a few episodes of a sappy J-Drama). Brief reviews are as below:

Funny Girl (1968) - What it says on the tin: Barbra sure is a funny girl! (And what a voice.) I was surprised by the complexity of the second half, and of the ending -- her performance of "My Man" was gorgeous, and am I totally missing the point or stating the obvious to say that I enjoyed how the "man" in the song could be either Mr. Arnstein or the stage?

Hidden Letters (2022) - I started this documentary with my family but we didn't finish. The subject-- 女书, a script created by and for women in Hunan--is fascinating but I wish that the documentary had focused a little more (or at all) on its actual history, or the specifics of the writing system. The ending song was really nice; I'll have to look for it some time.

Kamikaze Girls (2004) - The sleeper hit and the star of the show; it actually rocked. Hyper-stylization done right! The main characters were very femme/butch. A good line: "It's not wrong to feel good; that's what Rococo taught me."

Death Becomes Her (1992) - Following with the campy theme; great makeup, kooky effects. Yes, it's not revolutionizing gender roles; yes, the social commentary is sledgehammer-subtle; and yes, it's pitting women against each other -- but it's so fun! (Said with a mildly facetious tone

The meals were pretty decent: 1) dinner (butter chicken on a bed of rice with a roll and butter, some kind of grain-vinegar salad, and a chocolate pretzel crumb cake from Milk), 2) "light snack" (small turkey sandwich roll), and 3) breakfast (scrambled eggs with potato hash and chicken sausage, a packaged croissant and butter, and fruit). Nothing was gastronomically spectacular, but I wasn't let down, either.

Still, it's hard to conceive of how long being on the plane for 14+ hours is, and how much it sucks; it's been a long time since I was on a flight that long. I was in the same row as someone else in the program, but a middle-aged man was in the seat between us. I slept a bit, but atrociously. At one point I got so bored (even with all the movies available), I pulled up the digital map on the plane screen and just toggled around Taiwan, studying the cities. I even took out some paper and drew Taiwan and the 11 cities it showed. I still remember them, working counter clockwise from the top: Keelung, Taipei, Taoyuan, Hsinchu, Taichung, Nantou, Tainan, Kaohsiung, Taitung, Hualian, & Yilan. Round and around, up and down, side to side I went, pinching at the map.

When we landed, though, I found that someone had sent a video of the apartment to our LINE groupchat--and it looked amazing! The wait to get the keys and everything was a little long, but I met one of my housemates there, Lillian, and we took the taxi over together; she seems super sweet (should I refer to people by name? or is that too revealing? Maybe I'll edit these posts later.) The whole time we talked about how excited we were for the summer. When we arrived, the apartment was just as good as it had looked (also very close to some cute shops, cafes, and a 7/11), and we met another housemate who had been locked out: Fin.

Fin might be one of the coolest girls I've ever met. We first saw her sitting perched on her moped, wearing a white mesh longsleeve under a lime green gingham tank top with a paneled denim skirt, about knee length. She offered us mangos and pudding, and then to play a song for us on her robin's-egg-blue electric guitar, which we eagerly accepted. She strummed and sang Lana Del Rey's "Happiness is a butterfly;" she has a beautiful voice, smooth and light. Lillian and I sang along a little but mainly enjoyed. Then Fin shared some cool Taiwanese indie music that she liked with us; she offered to take us to a concert some time (which I will happily take her up on). Another housemate, Amber, came in; Amber studies, performs, and choreographs contemporary circus (thus also putting her in the running for one of the coolest girls I've ever met). Amber joined in the concert talk and mentioned a free outdoor show happening next week! I hope we can all go. Fin and I talked about Mitski and she played one of her songs on guitar. It was a lovely, shimmering kind of introduction to the whole place.

There are quite a few more housemates but more on the morrow, because I have to get up bright and early for orientation! I'm settled in my room, which is in the 'basement' (very spacious--so far I like it). Already I can tell my Chinese is in a dire state. Hopefully I'm ready; I guess it's (almost) time to find out. More later!

安居乐业 (ān jū l�� yè) - to live and work in peace