#really into whatever was going on in the beginning too

[blkkizzat]

PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟔 — 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 28th, 5:47 pm ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: thanksgiving speech + heavy innuendo + dirty talk + bathroom sex + fellatio/blow job + backshots + pussy smacks + brat taming + brat!reader + dom!nanami + nanami has a lil' sadistic streak when it comes to payback ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 9078 (5k of it is pure smut khfjhdrfrdgjhf)

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

How does the saying go again? Play with fire, get burned?

Well, when it came to mischief, you weren’t just playing with fire—you were a regular pyromaniac. 

And poor Nanami? 

He was the one whose patience kept getting scorched time and again.

Case in point: right now.

With feigned innocence, you stretch across the dining room table to set down a china plate. A mundane act by anyone else's standards—except you’re braless under your loose sweater dress, and the moment you lean forward, your pert nipples peek through the gaping neckline, jiggling carelessly right in Nanami’s direct line of sight.

Nanami, of course, pretends not to notice. Attempting to hold himself to his signature stoicism as to not reward your slutty antics. Yet, Nanami’s hands give him away, hesitating mid-fold as the napkin fumbles through his fingers.

The result: a sagging, lopsided swan. 

A far cry from the pristine little flock he’d already created.

With a sharp exhale, Nanami quietly undoes his work and begins again, a clear scowl tugging at his lips.

He should by all accounts be happy, it’s Thanksgiving. 

Yet today also makes it Day 28 of the cursed No Nut November bet.

All month, your playful taunts, pretty pouts and cutesy whines have been tortuously chipping away at Nanami’s resolution to remain firm in not fucking you. Although it’s really no surprise to Nanami how bratty you could get when you went too long without a good dicking to remind you to behave—and for that, Nanami continues to lament letting Gojo rope him into the bet in the first place. 

Not that Nanami particularly cared for any bets, he did however have a petty streak towards Gojo’s antics. Nanami couldn’t resist this particular challenge. After all, if there was one thing Nanami could undoubtedly best the so-called infinite strongest in—it was self-restraint.

Something Gojo has in laughably short supply, so it would be an easy win.

And it had been. Gojo folded within the first 72 hrs.

The satisfaction that came with besting Gojo had been short-lived. What really had kept Nanami going all this time is his more sadistic side relishing in how desperate you’ve been for him all month. 

You, his perfect lil’ slut—you had zero false illusions of pride, especially when it came to getting your sweet lil’ pussy pounded. At the mere mention of your involuntary participation in the month you quickly unraveled like an addict from just the thought of having dick withdrawals. As such, dealing with your horny desperation has been a whole other beast of its own.

A few times Nanami had nearly caved too as he found himself fighting against his more debased animalistic urges that would arise. 

You’re his weakness after all and it’s far too easy to be enamored by you. 

Especially when you would rub your thick thighs together—your plush skin sliding against whatever scandalous lingerie you’d be wearing, splayed out on whatever surface was the closest—bed, counter, sofa, floor— wet pussy on display and  all while cooing for him to reconsider. 

You would beg so sweetly for Nanami to touch you, to stretch your pretty pussy out just a little bit with the fat head of his tip—yet to his own maddening torment, Nanami held firmly and refused. 

Your charms had finally met their match. 

For every ounce of brat you possess, Nanami has pounds of stubbornness to counter. Nanami would have thought though as the end of the month drew closer, you’d be able to hold on knowing you’d made it this far. 

Yet contrary to his hopes, you’d only ramped up your teasing to practically insufferable levels. 

All of which is particularly bothersome to Nanami right now seeing as your entire family is in Japan to visit you for Thanksgiving this year. 

Much to Nanami’s chagrin, even your family’s presence is not enough to deter your lewd stunts—if anything you take it up a notch, slyly using your family as a shield from his reprimand. 

Your family, of course, doesn’t think of you as anything less than an angel, your shameless behaviors going undetected to all but him.  

Like the time you insisted on stopping for ice cream crepes after taking your family out for lunch despite the near-freezing temperatures. The chill didn’t faze you one bit as you messily devoured the treat. When your relatives weren’t looking, you made a show of deep throating your pristinely manicured fingers—in slow, exaggerated motions, like you were devouring something far filthier than just the frozen sweet cream flavor you had purposely let drip down to your palms.

The bitter chill also never stopped you from flouncing around the city in the shortest of mini skirts. Your legs would be comfortably wrapped in thick, form-hugging thigh-highs—another one of Nanami’s undeniable weaknesses. 

You knew that though, and as expected you made sure to tease him whenever you got the tiniest chance. Exampled by your flashing him glimpses of your crotchless panties during a casual family trip to the local Daiso for souvenirs.

Despite the warmth indoors, Nanami was forced to uncomfortably pull his thick wool coat tighter around himself. The last thing he needed was to be seen with his arousal leading ahead of him because you feigned sudden interest in every item on the lower shelves. Every time something new caught your eye you’d bend over just enough to offer him, and only him, the perfect view of your smooth, bare cunt— the glistening flesh plumping out between your thighs as if your pussy lips would have blown him a wet kiss at any moment.

The sight almost broke him.

Nanami had to dig for newfound strength in order not to push you up against the shelves that day. Public indecency charges be damned, Nanami would have given almost anything in that moment to spank your naughty cunny red for rebelling against him to these extremes. Then of course, he’d bury his aching cock into that tight lil’ cunt of yours, already pulsing and soaked, just so ready to be punished.

Worst of all though, was the constant weight of his arousal resting heavy between his thick, muscular thighs, growing unbearable with each one of your taunts. Nonetheless Nanami endured it—and his blue balls—if only to teach you that haughty lil’ brats couldn’t get their way. 

Now it was deeper than the bet with Gojo even, this was on principle.

Two more days.

In just two more days it be December, your family would be gone and Nanami could finally fuck you into the slobbery, sated stupor you’d been fiending for all month. 

Nanami sighs again, looking up to see you already staring at him, smiling sweetly like you weren’t the embodiment of Lilith herself. 

You only giggle at him.

Patience is Nanami’s virtue, not yours. Surely destined for the naughty list this year, you and those venus like curves of yours are driving him to insanity—and you knew that.

All according to plan! 

“Ken~to~~”

Your sing-song lilt not only grabs his attention but the attention of his cock as well, to his utter dismay the dull throb in Nanami’s pants responds before he can.

“Whatcha thinking so hard about, babe…?” 

Well, he certainly couldn’t answer honestly.  

No way in hell Nanami was going to admit he was vividly picturing how satisfying it would be to rip your sweater dress down the middle in two. He’d spread you out until your thighs trembled from the ache, plating your sassy lil’ pussy right next to the crystal centerpiece in the middle of the table before devouring you whole. 

That’s the true feast Nanami wanted—fuck the turkey.

Instead, Nanami tiredly shakes his head as if to say ‘not much at all’.  

“I meannnnn, it must be something pretty intense because you’re ignoring the timer for the turkey right now, it's been going off for over a minute.”  

Oh fuck—the actual turkey! 

Nanami couldn’t burn it, not the turkey he’d spent 10 hours basting with meticulous care. Nanami being the amazing partner he is, followed your Nana’s recipe to the letter so your family could spend the little time they had visiting Tokyo sightseeing and not in the kitchen. 

You smirk as you bide your time, all while listening to Nanami quietly cursing as he fusses to himself the entire way to the kitchen.

Breaking Nanami before the end of the month has become your personal mission and you took that seriously. Even with all his saintly restraint you reasoned that Nanami was still just a man of flesh and blood.

He had to have a breaking point somewhere.

And when he finally snapped… well, you weren’t dumb, knew that wouldn’t bode well for you.

But wasn’t that the thrill? 

The anticipation of pushing him off the very edge of his limits, of coaxing out the strict, authoritative side to him—the side he only let loose when he was truly fed up with you? 

You’d wind your A-type boyfriend up so much today that the second your family left back to their hotel for the night he’d have no choice but to release all his frustrations out on your ass—literally. 

For now, you return to setting the table. Your parents and older family members would be back from their shopping trip and your cousins back from the walk—and then, your little plan could finally unfold.

Sure enough, it isn’t long before the front door swings open, laughter and the crinkle of shopping bags flooding in to announce their return. Your cousins also return, eyes a bit redder but thanks to raiding your bathroom cabinets for eye drops, your family none the wiser. In no time, the dining table is brimming with your Thanksgiving favorites.

And unlike the wonky napkin swans, Nanami executes each dish with the precision of a seasoned chef, as if these recipes had been his own all along. The rich aroma of roasted turkey, buttery stuffing, and stewed collards lures the rest of your family into the dining room as everyone settles to eat.

Out of respect, you let your parents take the seats at the heads of the table and intentionally save the seat beside you for Nanami. But when he pointedly chooses the chair diagonally across from you instead, your pout is impossible to hide.

Nanami’s gaze snaps to yours, and he offers the faintest smirk—as if to say he knows better.

At best? 

If he sat across from you you’d tease him under the table, playing footsie. Your delicate feet gliding along the rim of his socks, tickling his ankle and testing just how composed he could really be.

At worst? 

Well, if he sat next to you and your shamelessness got the better of you, you might just get bold enough to slip your hand into his lap and onto his cock—breaking any boundaries of your already reckless antics. 

The idea of being jerked off under the table, in front of your entire family, just because you were too much of a cock-hungry slut to wait?

Nanami refuses to entertain it.

Because knowing you? 

The likelihood of getting caught wasn’t an "if." It was a "when" and there simply isn’t enough therapy or meditative prayer in the world for Nanami to be able to recover from that.

Nanami tries to hold back his glower, while you flash him a saccharine smile musing at how this works in your favor.

This time your stubbornly patient boyfriend needed to think a little bigger if he wanted to stop you. 

Footsie and grabbing at him? Ha! That was child’s play. 

Far too predictable and too much of a risk with your family here, even for you. 

To be honest, with what you did have planned though you could savor his expressions better across from him than next to him. Nanami actually did exactly what you wanted him too—he didn’t need to know that though. 

Thus, enacting your grand plan begins when you speak up once everyone is seated, cheerfully announcing that you’d be the one giving the Thanksgiving speech this year. 

Your family of course delightfully agrees. 

Ever composed, Nanami remains stoic—yet the slightest twitch of his brow betrays his exasperation. 

He’s not stupid. He knows you are up to something. But here? Now?

The unspoken reprimand of ‘this is not the time’ radiates off him in controlled waves, but that only fuels your misbehavior.

Clearing your throat, your smile curls just sweetly as the marshmallow fluffed candied-yams that are steaming on the table. 

“I just want to say how thankful I am for us all to be here—Mom, Dad, Grandma, Auntie, Uncle, all my dear cousins. I'm so thankful you all could finally make it to Japan!  And of course, I’m so very thankful my sweet Kento could finally get away from his busy job this year to celebrate with us!”

Shooting Nanami a demure look, your eyes dance with devilment yet your tone is angelic. 

Nanami’s gaze sharpens just a fraction, his jaw tightening in silent warning although his lips are composed into a polite smile that says ‘you wouldn’t dare’. 

Oh, but you absolutely would! 

You revel in the tension, in the silent promise that later tonight—when your family is safely back at their hotel—you’ll be paying for this in full.

All according to plan of course~!

"Again, thanks are due to my Kento, for volunteering to cook most of the dishes and for following Nana's recipes so closely! The dressing smells divine, and honestly, I’m amazed by how much you managed to stuff into that bird. But then again, you’ve always been so good at making things fit, Ken.”

Your parents, aunts, and uncles remain blissfully unaware of the roguish double meaning laced in your words, offering nothing but approving smiles and nods. 

Your cousins, however—the ones closest to your age—are all high off their asses and catch on instantly. Some have to bite their lips to suppress giggles, while others shake their heads in mock disapproval, faint smirks betraying their amusement.

Nanami’s fingers flex subtly around the armrest of his dining chair, his smile dips ever-so-slightly as his dark cocoa eyes meet yours, piercing and questioning.

Are you seriously doing this to him right now—and are your cousins actually high!?

Dear God.

Your lashes flutter innocently at Nanami, like butter wouldn’t melt in that hot sinful little mouth of yours as you continue.

“Speaking of the turkey, you really took your time preparing her and so thoroughly. Just basting her in her juices for hours! She looks so good—sooo succulent and moist… She’s just dripping."

Nanami’s hand lifts to adjust his glasses—a calculated effort to distract from the faint flush creeping up his neck. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose briefly, trying to quietly suffer through the absolute depravity spilling from you.

Across the table, one of your cousins bites down on their lips, muzzling their laughter. Another abruptly ducks under the table, allegedly retrieving a dropped napkin, though it’s painfully obvious to everyone in the know they’re just extra baked and trying not to completely lose their cool.

Nanami sends a pointed, pleading glance at each one of your cousins, his cocoa eyes practically screaming at them to keep their shit together. 

But that only makes it worse,  their sniggers becoming audible and earning reprimanding glances from the elders at the table who thought it was rude they were interrupting your lovely speech.

"Oh, and let’s not forget the mac and cheese—the true star of the table! Kento baby, you really outdid yourself. It looks so rich, so creamy… has that perfect gooey squelch when you stir it up." 

You hum, deliberately dragging out each syllable before shifting your attention elsewhere on the table. 

"Mmm, and the ham? Perfectly pink, with that honey glaze oozing so invitingly between the folds. Doesn’t it just make you want to slide your *ahem* fork, right in?"

Nanami exhales slowly, the tension carved into his handsome features intensifying.

Around the table, your high ass cousins are seconds away from crumbling, somehow though holding it in for Nanami’s sake. 

The youngest one cracks first as they start violently choking on their water they took a sip of, prompting your aunt to firmly pat their back. 

And you?

Oh, you're reveling in every second of this masterpiece—the scandalous spectacle you've written, directed, and are now starring as the lead slut yourself as you prepare for your finale.

"Anyway, I’m rambling now. Wouldn’t want all the yummy food Ken cooked to get cold…"

Wrapping up your x-rated Thanksgiving speech, you decide to end it with a bang.

"So I’ll just end it by saying that Kento has such a knack for taking care of everything, as you all can see. He always spoils me, and he cooks for me regularly too which is why I had so much faith he could pull this off in the first place…" 

Turning towards Nanami you smile brightly.

“...Kento always keeps me full with his yummy meals—and hopefully with his kids someday too!"

That last remark sends your cousins over the edge, howling their laughter bursts out now that they finally have an excuse to do so openly. 

To the rest of your family, it’s cheeky fun—oh just you playfully pressuring Nanami, your boyfriend of 3 years into starting a family.

Your parents and older relatives even chuckle along too.

“Sweetie! Don’t embarrass poor Nanami like that, let him take his time—oh, look, now you’ve got his ears all red!” 

Your mom softly chides you and you’re giggling innocently as if you’ve hadn’t just turned Thanksgiving grace into an impromptu smut reading.

“Poor mans, looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

Your uncle shakes his head, clearly unimpressed with your brazen attempt to push kids on Nanami—especially when you’re both still unmarried. He casts Nanami a knowing, sympathetic look, the kind that silently says, ‘I’ve been there, brother.’

Nanami, ever composed, simply returns a curt nod in acknowledgment.

To his credit, Nanami isn’t anywhere close to losing consciousness, but his anger? 

The tension radiating off of him?

That’s a different story entirely.

Nanami’s cursed energy fluctuates in restrained waves, betraying the quiet storm beneath his civil smiles. His sanity is hanging by a thread, and though he maintains perfect decorum, as he diligently carves and serves the turkey, you—and only you—can sense the static hum of his furry crackling just beneath the surface.

While the mood quickly settles for your family as dinner is served, the hairs on the back of your neck remain standing at full attention.

The food is, of course, delicious—Nanami never misses when it comes to executing a perfect meal. But you barely taste anything, too on edge from the weight of his stifled fury pressing against your senses to fully enjoy your plate. 

On one hand you’re positively ecstatic, you know you’ve succeeded in pushing Nanami past his limits—yet on the other, you still can’t help but feel a chill for the utter bloodlust you sense in his energy. 

Such malice you’d only felt him direct at curses before.

And so as your cousins gossip beside you, spilling all the tea about the drama and happenings back home, their words don’t register over the buzzing tension sitting right across from you. 

However, by the time dinner winds down, Nanami at least outwardly appears much more at ease. 

His posture has relaxed, his tone is as smooth as ever, and even his cursed energy has seemingly leveled out. Nanami engages effortlessly with your family, charming your parents with thoughtful anecdotes eliciting genuine laughter from them—because of course he does. 

Nanami is the perfect partner after all. 

But you know Kento too well.

The minuscule, erratic twitch in his fingers, the hardly perceptible grind of his teeth—it’s enough to tell you the truth.

He’s still pissed. Livid, even.

And later tonight?

You’re so getting fucked for this!

Perfect right? 

Your plan went off without a hitch! 

Then why do you still feel like you took it too far and your impending doom is at hand? 

You’d never seen him this irritated at anything before, even after he had a week long mission with Gojo.

Fuck…Did your cousins have any weed left over? Likely not…

On second thought, maybe you should go back to the hotel with your family tonight.

You’d never pulled a stunt quite like that before, so it could give Nanami a chance to cool off and you could spend more time with your family. Sure, you wanted him to fuck you but you also needed to be able to get out of bed tomorrow as you still had to play tour guide to your family.

Avoiding being alone with Nanami seemed like a solid plan.

However, the universe is clearly working against you, wanting you to lay in the smutty bed of trouble you made for yourself.

“Sweetie, go help Nanami put the pies in the oven.”

Your mother’s voice disrupts the chatter of your thoughts like a bucket of cold water to the face.

Shit.

You gulp, dropping your fork to clatter onto your plate as your eyes flicker toward Nanami. 

You knew he wouldn’t try anything with your family in the house, but the idea of facing his simmering rage in the kitchen? 

Yeah, that’s far from ideal.

“Oh, Momma, I’m still catching up with my cousins though! Ken doesn’t need my help!”

You plaster on your cutest pout, puffing your cheeks as you loop arms with your favorite cousin—your shameless co-conspirator, the one who gave you the idea for your lewd monologue in the first place.

Your mother arches a brow, unimpressed.

“Young lady, I wasn’t asking, now was I?”

You deflate, instantly resigning to your mother.

“No, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought! Now, help your man if you want that ring and babies, sweetie—Nanami doesn’t want a lazy wife! G’on!”

You sigh, defeated. You should have known the cute puppy-dog pout wouldn’t work on the very person you learned it from.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nanami chuckles, clearly entertained. 

No matter how much of a brat you are with him, your mother has you in check with a single look. 

Still, Nanami clearly did have some authority over you as you visibly flinch the moment he stands and walks around the table to you. Taking your hand firmly, he pulls you to your feet with an air of finality as you try not to gulp.

“Of course, we’re on it, ma’am—or should I call you ‘mom’ now?”

Nanami’s voice is welcoming and warm—endearing enough to make your family chuckle again as he clearly has them eating out of the palm of his hand. 

But the pressure tightening around your wrist? 

That promises a very different Nanami once you’re alone.

Your stomach twists. The short walk to the kitchen suddenly feels like you’re being led to a firing squad. 

Yet, once inside, Nanami does something unexpected. 

He ignores you entirely.

Somehow the silence is worse.

Sulking, you plop onto one of the stools at the kitchen island as Nanami moves around his kitchen like you aren’t even there. 

Like a child in time out.

You both know damn well he doesn’t need your help. The pies are already prepped, perfectly assembled—apple, pecan, and sweet potato, each looking like they belong on the cover of Southern Living magazine.

Worse still, you can’t leave—not unless you want to risk another tongue lashing from your mother. 

Sighing, cross your arms as you pout and you kick your feet impatiently like an actual toddler would.

This sucks!

After a few more agonizing minutes you can’t stand the tension any longer as you push off the stool in a huff.

“I’m going to the bathroom!” 

Breaking unbearable silence with your announcement you bristle slightly as Nanami doesn’t even acknowledge you. 

Not a glance, not a nod—nothing.

Rolling your eyes, you slip out of the kitchen. You’re careful to avoid the dining room and your family as you make your way to the hallway bathroom. At least here you can breathe without the thick tension suffocating you.

Humming a soft tune, you scroll through your socials with one hand while the other carefully touches up your mascara in the mirror. The bathroom—really more of a powder room without so much as a shower—was small, but just secluded enough to serve as your personal hideout for now.

Fixing your makeup and catching up on the latest celeb drama blogs, it’s a decent escape.

For all of three minutes until the door knob twists.

“It’s occupied! Geez, can’t a girl get some privac—”

Your complaints are cut short as you choke over your words. 

“K-K-Kento!”

You’d expected it to be one of your cousins barging in or maybe even your nosey ass aunt, who had zero respect for boundaries.

But Nanami?!

Nanami’s broad imposing frame fills the doorway before he moves inside, shutting it behind him without a word.

Click. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place is synchronous to your audible gulp.

“K-Ken! W-What are yo—”

But Nanami moves faster than you can finish speaking. 

His hand clamps firmly over your mouth as his other muscular arm bands around your waist, pinning you between him and the sink.

Nanami has you in his grasp now, ironclad and inescapable.

"Shhhhh, just shut those filthy little lips of yours for once, my love…"

Nanami's deep, velvety baritone drips with sinister intent.

"...you've already said more than fucking enough tonight, yes?"

A shiver rolls down your spine. 

Oh, you’re so fucked!

You freeze up entirely as you are caught in a state of panic and growing arousal. 

You wanted this—you had begged for this treatment all month. 

But not here and certainly not right now!

Especially not while your entire family is just in earshot across the hall!

Yet your body is never fully yours when Nanami touches you. Despite your mind's protest, your back arches instinctively as Nanami—completely indifferent to anyone else in his home—smashes himself even closer against you.

That's when you feel it—his stiff, heavy erection, nudging petulantly against the swell of your ass. 

Even through Nanami’s thick wool of his slacks, you can feel the fiery heat radiating from him. The outline of his cock is thick and unforgiving as it nestles between your rear cheeks.

This was all happening so fast?!

Your eyes widen, tears dusting your lashes when you meet his own in the mirror, pleading with him. 

But if you thought your feminine appeals would soften him this time, you were sorely mistaken. 

If anything, it only spurs Nanami on, wanting to punish you for that manipulative nature of yours that had subdued him more often that he wanted to admit.

“You’re such a good girl for your mother, sweetheart…” 

Nanami purrs, his lips dragging down the column of your neck.

“...and yet so disobedient for Daddy.”

Your small, helpless whimpers are muffled into Nanami’s hand as your thighs squeeze together. Heat simmers low in your belly, ignited by Nanami’s weighted words overflowing with authority as he’s clearly not referring to your actual father—just mere feet away in the next room.

Nanami’s arm around your waist slackens just enough to let his brawny hand roam free, his fingers splaying possessively over your body and drawing out more submissive whines from you.

Head swimming, your shaky breaths draw in Nanami’s scent—his natural musk tangled with the rich notes of his woody cologne. Cedar, myrrh, and a faint whisper of smoked vanilla saturate your senses, leaving you lightheaded, dizzy with need, and aching for more despite the dangerous proximity of your family just beyond the door.

“All because this troublesome lil’ pussy can’t even go a mere month without my cock inside her, hm?” 

Nanami’s smirks at your quivering under the weight of his wicked words as his fingers graze the waistband of your panties. 

To be honest he was surprised given your antics you’d even bothered to put them on today.

You really must not have thought he’d be the one to escalate the situation. 

Yet, a man could only be pushed so far…

“You were a virgin when we met, remember? Who knew I would unleash such a greedy n’ spoiled lil’ slut.”

You don't even get the chance to protest—not that you even had a leg to stand on—before Nanami’s hand presses his thumb past your plush lips, pinning your tongue down and robbing you of any ability to speak. Your moist, wriggling tongue squirms helplessly against his digit, a low hiss escaping him as the pressure of his cock grinds harder into the curve of your ass through the strained fabric of his slacks.

At the same time, Nanami’s other hand dips beneath the fabric of your panties, his skilled fingers parting the moist swampy folds of your cunt.

The goan that escapes Nanami is visceral when he feels the slippery evidence of just how fucking drenched you are for him.

“Oh, sweetheart…” 

Before you can even process what’s happening your dress is bunched around your hips as his thick thigh slots between your legs. Writhing, you shake your head frantically as Nanami forces you to ride his thigh. 

"S-Stowp! Mmfph—muh fampfy, K-Kem!"

Your garbled protest earns you a sadistic chuckle from him. 

"Your family? You want me to stop because of your family, princess?" 

Nanami hums thoughtfully, as if weighing the idea—yet still grinds his thigh harder against your damp core. He swaps the thumb silencing you for three thick fingers, stuffing them past your lips to muffle the desperate sounds spilling from your throat.

"No, that vulgar mouth up here didn’t mind being such a shameless cockteasing slut in front of your family. She’s racked up quite the tab of misbehavior. Why should this one down here—" 

Nanami’s fingertips glide past your fluttering entrance, submerging into your soaked heat, stroking against that spongy spot that never fails to curl your toes.

“—mind finally cashing me out?”

A broken moan dies in your throat, gagged by Nanami’s thick fingers in your mouth all due to his fingers in your pussy methodically dragging along your soppy, pulsing walls to gather every trace of your need before finally withdrawing his hand. 

"See, my love? How she's unabashedly drooling…" 

Strings of your silky gossamer arousal web between his fingers, glistening even in the dull bathroom light as he displays them before your face.

"This is exactly what your naughty lil’ pussy has been begging for all month."

Your mind drifts into a hazy abyss, the raw need between your thighs consuming you entirely. 

Everything else—the scandal of your family being in the house, the risk of them hearing you and getting caught, even your own better judgment—it all begins to fade away.

“Sorry, my dear…I’m afraid you can’t have your slutty cake and eat it too this time.” 

Nanami husks the words against your skin, inhaling deeply to bask in the scent of your arousal lingering on his fingers before daring to taste it himself—consuming every sinful, decadent drop.

“My sweet girl has been a fucking cockteasing menace all month. You’ve succeeded in breaking me, now it’s time to reap your consequences…”

Your protests are audible even through his slobber coated fingers as his words ignite goosebumps over your skin.

“Aht-Aht-Aht…”

Nanami admonishes you.

 “...you begged, manipulated and schemed for this. You’ll take Daddy’s cock now, exactly how he gives it to you or you will go another week without it. Your choice, love.”

The muffled cry you release is loud and needy. Your eyes are like saucers and your body trembles at Nanami’s very real threat. Yet Nanami just brings his face down to smoosh against your cheek, piercing you with those unwavering cocoa eyes of his that meet yours in the mirror once more.

“This silly month might be over in two days but that doesn’t mean your naughty lil’ pussy will get fucked anytime soon, sweet girl. Not if she doesn’t take it for Daddy now…”

Thick tears spill down your cheeks, wetting Nanami’s hand as the oppressive tension in the tiny powder room grows suffocating. You'd get what you wanted, alright—

Nanami would break No Nut November and fuck you stupid—

—but only on his terms.

Anticipation and dread knot tighter in your belly, a dizzying cocktail of fear and excitement. You’re in no position to stall now, and Nanami’s patience has long since rotted away.

"Can’t decide?" 

Nanami drawls, voice dark with amusement. 

"Then we'll defer to the lewd lil’ brat between your legs, hm?"

Without another word, Nanami hooks two fingers into the gusset of your soaked panties. The lace gives a pitiful snap as he rips them clean off, stuffing the ruined fabric into his pocket like a prize. Before you can catch your breath from the shock of it, his hand slaps harshly against your drenched pussy—an obscene, wet crack that ricochets off the cramped bathroom walls.

You jolt forward with a sharp, broken whimper, your thighs quivering as the sting melts deliciously into heat. Nanami just watches in the mirror, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he drinks in the sight of you coming undone from just a single strike.

Now bare, the cool air brings a chill to your exposed, leaking cunt.

SMACK

Another sharp slap lands against your throbbing cunt and your knees almost buckle from the pleasureful sting. 

Nanami hums in satisfaction, his fingers dipping lower to ghost over the sticky mess leaking out from your twitching hole.

“Looks like she’s already made the decision for you, princess. That’s two against one.”

You flinch as you feel his cock pulse in between your cheeks—impatient, demanding, aching to be acknowledged. 

Nanami’s own body is thrumming with need, to bury himself to the hilt, to fuck you so deep his cock kisses your cervix, the force of his hips so powerful they’d leave their imprint on your skin soft skin even the next day.

“…I stand corrected, make that three against one.”

And so your fate is sealed—which is how you ended up in this position now—squatting before Nanami on the bathroom floor, staring up at him as he looms above you. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth in nervous anticipation as you watch his practiced fingers work his belt open, the slow, torturous pace makes your pussy clench.

“I really should put you over my knee for a proper spanking, princess.” 

Namani’s belt buckle clinks, as he undoes his zipper and he slides his slacks down just enough that his cock springs free—flushed red, and already dribbling beads of pre down his large veiny shaft.

“But we can save that for after your family leaves—at the very least.”

The metaphorical hearts in your eyes drown out the implications of any further punishment later. You just nod dumbly, too transfixed by the primal scent wafting off his cock as it stands proudly, heavy and imposing, bobbing directly above your face. 

Oh, you’ve missed it bad. 

You don’t know how you survived this entire time without it.

“Open.”

Finally obedient for the first time all month, you don’t protest or pout. You simply part your lips wide, presenting your tongue without hesitation.

Three times—Nanami’s weepy tip taps against your tongue, smearing precum across the soft bumpy surface and you are keening at the familiar, salty taste. 

Biting back a groan, Nanami’s eyes momentarily flutter shut. 

Reveling in the comforting pleasure of your tongue against his sensitive tip. 

When Nanami finally opens his eyes again it takes everything in him not to spill himself right there, utterly ruin that pretty face of yours before he even gets started. Nanami tightens his grip around the base of his shaft because fuck—you look absolutely destroyed already, your glazed-over eyes locked onto his cock as though it were a holy relic. 

Awe-stricken, mesmerized, your mouth opens wider, wordlessly inviting him to sheath himself inside fully and return to the cozy confines of your throat—a place he’d been aching to bury himself in for weeks.

My God, you’d really be the end of him one of these days.

“We don’t have much time to spare. Be a good girl and prep her for me, won’t you sweetheart?” 

The raw desperation bleeding into Nanami’s voice goes unnoticed by you, too lost in your own pleasure to realize just how close he is to completely snapping. Your plump lips closing around his swollen cockhead as your tongue flicks sharply before flattening over the tender slit.

Of course, you don’t neglect yourself either—one hand wrapping around his girth to guide him deeper into your mouth’s wet molten cavern—the other snakes between your legs to your exposed pussy that is already eagerly leaking droplets onto the tiled floor. 

Your fingers feel good of course, but they aren’t enough—truly, nothing has been since Nanami put you through the trials of NNN this month. But now with his cock cradled between your lips, knowing he’d soon be inside your pussy causes her to tingle even from your own touch this time. You don’t hesitate to sink them deeper inside your slippery cunt, pumping yourself frantically, so riled up by the sounds of Nanami’s suppressed hisses and the vulgar slurps of you sucking him off.

It’s been a whole month since you’ve had him in your mouth and thankfully, you haven’t lost your touch or your practically non-existent gag reflex—not by a longshot. 

As a further testament to your skill, Nanami threads his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements as he rolls his hips forward in a slow, greedy thrust. His lust-darkened eyes remain locked onto your lips, transfixed by the way they stretch obscenely to accommodate him. 

The salacious sight driving him past limits for the nth time tonight, Nanami presses your head down until your nose nestles into the neatly trimmed hairs at his base. He’s so deep in your throat his length is nudging past your tonsils. 

You moan wantonly, throat stretched out so obediently around his cock as Nanami’s palm closes firmly around your neck. His fingers flex, savoring the way he can feel the thick outline of himself bulging through your tender skin, the vibrations of your desperate whimpers rippling straight up his shaft.

Instinctively, your throat tightens even more, eliciting another sharp hiss of approval from him. You feel the heavy, pulsing vein along the underside of his shaft pressing deliciously against your vocal cords—a clear reminder of how badly he's missed this. 

Yet before you can fully appreciate the exquisite stretch, Nanami’s composure shatters completely.

Using your mouth as a fleshlight, Nanami tips his head back, letting go.

Who the fuck cares that he technically caved to your bratty whims? 

That this wouldn’t teach your slutty lil’ cunt a single lesson about behaving in the long run? 

If anything, it only meant he’d have to keep fucking you nice and sweet all over again, something that he’d gladly do over again if the delayed release felt this good everytime.

"Such a good little slut for Daddy, aren’t you? You can’t help but to crave my cock, hm princess?"

More groaning pulsations around his cock are the only answers you are capable of at the moment and of course that encourages more hushed curses to roll off Nanami’s tongue. The tight, punishing hold he has on you, keeps you in place. 

Fortunately, this allows you to lower the hand that isn’t feverishly scissoring your pussy, loosening your tight walls for her long awaited turn, to rub your neglected lil’ clit. Your thighs shake from the burn of squatting and your tear smeared mascara burns your vision—but you don’t care. For the first time in a month you were about to be successful in making yourself cum.

So close m’gawd—m’gonna cum!

You can nearly taste the suffocating pleasure building, hurling you steadily to your peak—and yet abruptly, Nanami pulls out—because he can’t afford to cum now. 

Not in your throat at least.

The action leaves you choking, gasping for air as spit and pre-cum are splattered across your chin. Your hands instinctively ripped away from your pussy, thwarting your impending orgasm as you have to catch yourself from completely falling over.

"Hands on the sink." 

The command is gruff, the strain evident in Nanami’s voice—but you’re still the bigger mess by far.

You nod obediently, though your legs tremble so badly they nearly give out beneath you. Nanami has no patience left to spare. Gripping you roughly, he yanks you upright, a resounding smack landing on your ass before he turns you toward the mirror with a force that leaves your head spinning. You collapse against the sink, elbows bracing against the cold porcelain, panting and gasping as your chest heaves—desperately trying to catch up with the ruthless pace he’s setting.

“No, absolutely not—."

Nanami lifts you upright against him again, grabbing your jaw and tilting your flushed, tear-streaked face up to the mirror.

"—you must look at me while I fuck you, my sweet girl. Look at whose cock you’ve been dying to slut yourself for.”

Nanami’s girth prods against your soaked entrance that’s already fluttering, hungry to have him plunged inside you. Yet you still can’t help as your heart races knowing that after nearly a month of waiting, you’d be lucky to be able to walk after this—fuck you really didn’t think this through when you deviously planned to break his ‘No Nut November’!

Yet there's no more time for thinking as with a snap of Nanami’s hips, the stretch is instant, intrusively overwhelming as Nanami bottoms out with one sharp thrust into your guts. Your lungs deflate, all the air pushed out as you can feel his cursed energy tentatively radiating off of him. 

You’re so full your tummy can’t even flex and this time it’s your own hands this time that have to fly to your mouth to keep your cries in as Nanami does not give you a single moment to adjust, his hard length ripping through you and smashing against your womb.

“My girl thought she was being cute out there, hm? Showing off like that?” 

Nanami growls through gritted teeth, his hips slapping against yours with an unforgiving force bolstered ever so slightly by his cursed energy. The rhythmic slaps of skin meeting skin and wet squeaks from your oozing core echo off the walls like a drumline.

You can hardly see Nanami now through your bleary, tear-filled eyes but he looks more like a wild animal than your perfectly composed boyfriend in this state. Nanami had never fucked you with this curse energy activated so the feeling was sensational as you felt his cock pierce through every nerve of your body.

“C’mon, my sweet slutty girl, no words now that Daddy is stuffing you better than the Thanksgiving turkey?” 

Nanami’s fingers dig into your shoulder keeping you upright as he pistons into you harder, deeper—right against the sweet spot that has your eyes rolling back into your head and you forgetting your very name. His other palm slides to your stomach to feel the thick bulge of his cock filling you and press down forcibly moving your hips back to meet his bruising thrusts when your body can no longer do anything more but take it.

You can feel the sensuous pressure building quickly within you, so full, so ready to explode and gush all over Namani’s length drilling into you. 

Mmmm, good god yessss! 

You are finally getting your nut. 

Nothing else mattered. Your face contorts in your aching pleasure behind your hands.

You’re almost there.

Nanami is growling into your neck, feeling your imminent release. 

“Don’t tell me my slutty girl is already abou—”

“Huh, Is this the bathroom? Sweetie, are you in there? Where’s Nanami?”

Your mom’s voice crashes through the filthy haze like a gunshot, and pure panic rockets up your spine. The tiny bathroom spins around you, Nanami still buried deep inside, your heart lurching so violently you almost faint.

Approaching the door, she hastily knocks.

Fuck!

Your eyes widen in horror but Nanami doesn’t flinch. 

This was your punishment after all and your consequence to bear. 

Though Nanami does slow the feverish pace, that mere moments ago had the sounds of your flesh ringing off the walls, his hips never still completely. 

Instead, his movements grow more deliberate, more precise. 

With a commanding grip on your waist and hips, his cock grinds methodically against your cervix, each rotation of his pelvis powerful and calculated.

God, you swear you can feel his cock grinding up into your fucking ribs…

“Go on, answer her…” 

Nanami goads you with low raspy whispers. Once he guides your body into a rhythm, his hands lazily wander up to pull your sweater dress completely down in the front and tweak your nipples.

Damn him! But— FUCK, if it doesn’t feel so, so good.

The well of drool you were holding in spills through your hands to dribble down your wrists

“These naughty fuckin’ lips had no problem mouthing off at the dinner table, whats wrong now sweetheart?”

What was wrong was Nanami slowly churning your core into liquified mush with his torturous strokes scraping against your womb. 

This pace was somehow even more brutal than before.

But your mom now jiggling the door knob snaps your attention back to the urgent reality of the situation.

“Are you okay in there, honey?”

No you weren’t okay! 

Nanami was driving you to insanity. You needed more. 

This wasn't enough to make you cum, only keep you dangerously on the edge of it while your body screamed for release.

But you had to answer your mother, she is totally the type to beat down the door and then your dad might force Nanami into a shotgun wedding right here and now, roping your uncle in to officiate. (That idea did make you giggle but that ultimately was NOT how you wanted to get married to Nanami!)

“Umm, er—AH! Hah, I, uh, um… jus’ ate t-too much momma, m’s-sick…shiiiit.”

You nearly bite a chunk out of your tongue as Nanami's hand leaves your waist to draw slow agonizing circles around your clit in perfect sync with his grinding while the other lazily flicks your nipples.

“Oh no sweetie, you need me to come in there to help you, pooh?”

“N-NO! Nnngh!”

You said that a bit hastily, trying to recover. 

You had to convince your mom you were fine. Well fine enough she'd be persuaded to leave you alone.

“Mmm, n-no, Momma, m-ma’am, I-I just need a minute…I-I’ll be out!”

“Okay, well I’m just a holler away, if you do…”

Thank fuck…

“Oh, and one more thing?”

God what now?! Let it end please...

Rolling your eyes in exasperation you exhale through your teeth, keeping your shit together somehow. The irony was not lost on you—now knowing exactly how Nanami felt at the dinner table.

“Y-Yes m-ma’am?”

“You never told me where Nanami ran off too, I couldn’t find him in the kitchen.”

Gnawing on your inner cheek you suppress a needy moan as Nanami takes to placing nuzzling kisses into the crook of your neck.

“The s-store! I t-think he went to the store, Mom… U-Uh, for the pies. Y-Yeah, um, to make w-whipped cream!”

It was the first excuse that popped into your head—and thankfully, it was enough. With not much more fuss from her, you finally hear your mom’s footsteps retreating back down the hall, her worries laid to rest for now.

Moreover, your lies also earn you dark chuckles from Nanami, who couldn’t help but breathe filthy praises in your ear. Relentlessly taunting you with what your mother might say if she knew she'd raised such a naughty, deceitful lil’ slut.

“Whipped cream, hm? When did my sweet girl turn into such an underhanded brat?”

You manage to twist just enough to throw a pout over your shoulder at Nanami—only to find him watching you with a rare shit-eating grin stretching across his usually stoic features.

“Something wrong, my love?”

You can't take this teasing any longer—it's downright villainous—and with a sob of frustration, you snap, squirming and cooing for him to finally give you what you want.

“Pwease, K-Ken, m’sorry, *sniff* I won’t act up anymore. *sniff* I promise.”

There she is. 

There’s his good girl that’s been hiding all along under that slutty Hyde-like brat.

Nanami hums, pleased with the turn of events. All the sass in you temporarily melting away.

“F-Forgive me…please, s-sir?”

Sir.

Oh you little minx. 

If hearing you call him Daddy thrilled the dom in Nanami, then hearing you whimper sir—so soft, so desperate—nearly drove him feral. He knew he'd broken you the moment the brat in you crumbled enough to say it without a hint of defiance or sarcasm.

“If I finally make this slutty lil’ cunt cum...are you going to take all of Daddy’s in your pretty pussy like a good girl?” 

You nod whispering through your sniffles.

“And when we return to the living room you will continue to act like the respectable young lady that Daddy trained you to be?”

You’re bobbing your head in affirmation but Nanami needs to hear it again, hear you call him that delicious little word from your lips once more.

“Words, babydoll.”

“Y-Yes, sir! I-I’ll be so good for you… I-I’ll—”

However, Nanami hushes you with a soft murmur, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his voice smoothing into a warm, calming lull.

“I know you will doll. I want you to let it all go, everything you've been holding for me all month—I’ve got you sweetheart.”

And it hasn’t been just you holding it, not by a long shot.

Nanami’s brow prespires as his muscles tremble from the sheer restraint he’s been holding onto all month—restraint he’s finally ready to cast aside. He delights in the way your body quivers, hunched and pliant beneath him, before snapping his hips forward and resuming the merciless pace that had you falling apart earlier.

You sob in raw relief, the sound abruptly cut off as Nanami’s hand tightens around your throat—firm but careful—silencing you while your fingers scramble for purchase against the sink, clinging to it like a lifeline as the rough pads of his fingers feverishly strum over your clit.

“I thought my sweet girl wanted to cum, hm? So then cum for me.” 

Nanami’s voice is all silk and sin, his cock pulsing deep inside your creamy cunt. 

However, twice now you’ve been edged and you think you might just combust on the spot if for some godforsaken reason it happens a third time. 

You can’t even form a coherent sound to respond to him though—your body strung so tightly—buzzing with a frantic cocktail of need, paranoia, and overstimulation. 

You wanna let go so bad. 

When the coil inside you finally snaps, your sweet, celestial orgasm crashes down in violent, shuddering waves, that has Nanami’s hand returning to your mouth in order to suppress it enough not to draw attention.

When the coil inside you finally snaps, pleasure detonates through your body in wild, celestial bursts—so fierce Nanami has to slap his hand back over your mouth to smother the desperate, lewd sounds lest you draw more attention.

Growling in response to your convulsing grip on his cock, Nanami, drives one more hard slam of his hips into your ass as thick, molten ropes of cum spill into you, painting your insides white.He doesn’t stop—rubbing cruelly slow circles into your swollen clit with the pads of his fingers, forcing every last aftershock to wrack your body while he stays sheathed inside you.

A feral growl rumbles from Nanami's chest as your spasming walls clamp down around him. With a final, punishing thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, spilling thick, molten ropes of cum deep inside you—painting your insides completely white. He doesn’t relent there, the rough pads of his fingers working merciless circles over your swollen clit, wringing every last shudder and twitch from your overstimulated body as he stays locked inside you, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

Nanami is claiming you from the inside out—filling you so completely it almost hurts—and fuck, if the way your abused, sloppy pussy kept milking him didn’t make him want to start all over again.

The urgency of your current situation is momentarily forgotten as Nanami relishes every helpless flutter of your cunt around him—along every obscene, wet squelch of his cum sloshing inside your womb. 

It's addicting. Dangerously so.

Nanami almost regrets having nearly spent an entire month without it. Yet now that he’d broken ‘No Nut November’ he wasn’t about to let up on you anytime soon—you were still owed that spanking later tonight after all.

Nevertheless after a minute Nanami does pull out, albeit reluctantly. 

Grabbing a spare hand towel, he dampens it with cool water, and gives you a few through swipes—dragging it over your trembling thighs, sticky tummy, and the flushed rise of your chest. 

Nanami doesn’t bother wiping between your legs, letting the thick mess of his cum drip down your inner thighs unchecked, hidden under the hem of your dress as he tugs it roughly back into place. 

Also part of your punishment. By the time he’s done, you almost look innocent—if not for the way your frizzy hair clings to your temples and the slightly dazed flush about your face.

It would have to be good enough—for now at least—especially since Nanami is always the one stuck covering for your half-baked lies.

“Now, quickly grab your shoes and we’ll slip out the back.” 

You simply blink at him, still a bit out of it from the first actually satisfying orgasm you had all month.

“Huh? Why?” 

Nanami’s smirk is devious as he clicks his belt into place. 

“Darling, you told your mother I went to the store to buy whipped cream for the pies.”

“So?”

Nanami’s grin turns wolfish, clearly amused as the brat he spent so long fucking into submission claws her way right back to the surface.

“So sweet girl, we can’t exactly serve them the cream I just made inside of you, now can we, princess?”

Goddamnit. You’re pouting, realizing how your mouth has talked you into all sorts of problems today. 

“Now hurry along, my love. Oh, and you better keep those thighs of yours closed tight—I don’t think aisle 5 is equipped to clean up that kind of creamy spill.”

blkkizzat ©2023-2024 no ai, reposting, plagiarism nor translation allowed.

𝐚/𝐧: so is nanami more out of pocket here for nnn than otaku!gojo was? lmfao, you decide 🤭.

comment and reblog to let me know how you liked it~~

idk why but it took me forever to get this fic in a place where I like it. I still may go back and edit it a bit again, fix any remaining errors. (I wrote so many paragraphs like 3x over that there might be repeating lines im so sorry I tried to delete them all).

last up but definitely not least is Higuruma, Hiromi (comment on m.list for tag). not sure when i will get his part out. I want to go back and work on like a handful of things but it's also like 70% done so we will see lol.

[iamasaddie]

lessons in control

Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: after you witnessed the conflict at the dance, you tried to comfort Joel as best as you could, too bad you weren't really good with words. warnings: PWP, just the tip, mentions of a belly bulge, mentions of cockwarming, creampie, emotionally awkward reader, sex as a distraction, fat girthy age gap (reader late 20s-early 30s, Joel 61. don't like don't read i am planning to write some more stuff about them <3) wc: 1,7k a/n: episode came out weeks ago and i just finished the fix-it fic. i love being on time. divider by @/saradika-graphics

You were already warming up your shared bed when Joel's heavy body plopped next to yours. The matress squeaked pathetically, or maybe those were Joel's knees. He silently scooted closer to you, hugging your body from behind and inhaling your scent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you reached and blindly found his cheek, scratching the stubble with your thumb in a gentle gesture.

“I can’t seem to control myself when I feel something might happen to her, you now?" You did know. Joel's hyperprotectiveness over Ellie was the thing that brought you together in the first place. And that was the only time when it didn't cause mass distruction. Almost. "I just get filled with rage and I lose it.” Joel sounded like a beaten dog, you knew exactly how much pain his eyes carried. You wished you could say something that’d take his mind off things. You wished you had a better way with words. But the only thing you felt you could offer was your body, so you press your back harder into his t-shirt clad chest; you pushed your ass a bit out to meet his cock that was still soft in his boxers.

“I can help you with the control thing.” You whispered, your breathing soft and calm.

“Yeah?” There was a tint of humor in his voice, a half-smile creeping up on his face. “Gonna walk me on a leash?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and brought it up from your belly to your tits. Joel barely squeezed the supple flesh, waking up the sleeping beast that was your need. “Let’s start with something less dramatic.”

“You know full well I’m not able to control myself with you either.” As if proving his words, his hips bucked, teasing your ass with his hardening dick. His voice dropped lower, the honey thick cadence you grew to know very well. Joel’s grown out stubble brushed your ear as he moved his lips closer. “If I can have you, I devour you fully.”

You breath caught in your throat. Whatever this turns out to be, you knew you at least gave him shelter from the dark thoughts for the night. “You can have me, but,” your ass kept grinding on him, bringing Joel’s cock to the full potential, “just the tip.”

He barked a soft laugh, fanning your face with his whiskey breath. “Sounds like you’ll be the one struggling, baby,” his thumb and pointer finger pinched your nipple, already taut with excitement, and you bit your cheek to hide the moan. “Since it’s you who always begs me harder, more, deeper.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Joel started nipping at your neck, dragging his teeth along the tender column. His hands enveloped you in a hot cage, forearms squeezing your boobs as he pressed you even tighter to his chest. You couldn’t move—not that you wanted to—but you didn’t think it’d be great for that exercise in control you wanted to give Joel. He bit in the juncture between your neck and shoulder and you gasped. You were so responsive, it drove Joel mad. His hips kept humping your soft ass, and you knew a wet stain already bloomed on the front of his simple underwear. 

“Come on, Joel, let me help you.” You moan was breathy, and you tried to gather some composure to no avail. Feeling his hard length fit between your asscheeks made your core burn. You desperately wanted to have him stretch your pussy around the veiny shaft, even though that wasn’t what you planned in the beginning. You guessed that both of you could learn something.

His hand let go of your tits, dragging down your body to tug your panties down. You fumbled for a moment, helping him get rid of the damp garment. His own he only shoved down enough to let his hard cock out, the elastic of the band sitting tightly under the heavy ballsack. 

Your wet pussy was sheilded from the cold of the room by the blanket that covered you both, and when Joel’s tip finally kissed the slick lips of your cunt, sweat started gathering on the back of your neck. 

One of Joel’s palms rested on your thigh, his almost fully grey happy trail that lead to the coarse pubic hairs tickled your ass and back. His finger dug into the meat of your leg, dragging it up and over his own hairy thigh, so he had a better access to your weeping pussy.

Joel’s teeth grazed your ear, low voice rumbling through you.

“Sure you don’t want me here?” His hand left your leg, and he pressed into your lower belly, making you shiver. “Don’t you love feeling me in your tummy, baby? See how my cock bulges your little belly?”

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You did love that. Loved seeing how big he was, in every aspect, and how well you could still take him. Seeing how much of his cock was in you when he told you to suck your tummy in. 

“N-no,” your whimper lacked any confidence, and Joel only chuckled darkly. “Just the tip.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

He moved, grabbing the shaft of his cock that was throbbing with the absence of needed contact. With tortuously slow movements, he teased your slit, making sure to nudge your clit every time. The fat head of his cock spread your lips, mixing your arousal and his precum into one cocktail of need and despair. You felt his spongy tip knock on your hole and it took everything you had in yourself not to push down, taking as much of him as you could in one go.

You shook with desire against his body, and Joel finally allowed you to have some of him. Gently, almost mockingly, he pushed the leaking head of his cock in your tight heat. Even this small fraction of his dick felt overwhelming without proper preparation. When your walls hugged his tip, both of you exhaled sharply.

“Fuck, Joel, good, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Already full?” 

“Mhm.”

“I need you to play with your clit, baby. Want you to squeeze that tight little pussy around me as I fuck you with just the tip.”

Shaking, your right hand found your pulsating clit, but before touching it, you pushed your fingers lower, blindly feeling where the tip of his cock split you apart. You grazed his shaft with the tips of your fingers and immediately heard Joel suck air through his clenched teeth.

“If you don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you into this mattress with my whole dick, better keep your fingers on your clit, baby.”

You’d giggle if only he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip out and immediately punch into you again, this time a bit further, but you kept your mouth shut.

Your fingers expertly danced over your throbbing bud, gathering slick that generously seeped out of you. Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, all of his concentration focused on not thrusting his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming pussy. Sweat dripped down his temple, thighs screaming, but he kept feeding you just the tip, enjoying your breathy mewls. 

Having so little of him when you knew what the whole deal felt like resembled a punishment that you brought upon yourself. He stretched you good, but he couldn’t reach that magic spot he usually pondered into whenever he sunk his cock inside you. That made you work on your clit harder, already desperate to cum when it’s barely been ten minutes. 

“I can hear how wet you are for me,” Joel nipped at your neck, his tip continuously thrusting in and out of you, teasing. “D'you hear that?”

The sounds were loud, vulgar. You’ve heard the wetness of your cunt welcoming Joel with an obscene smack, like when you pat the surface of still water with your opened palm. The waves of your upcoming orgasm rippled from your core and out, like those same disturbed waters.

“Grippin' me tight, darlin’,” he groaned, you could smell his sweat and it made your mouth salivate. “Grippin' so good I can barely pull out.”

Your hand started faltering, rythm failing and Joel, sensing your trouble, left the tip of his cock inside you while his own hand started working on your clit. The simple touch of his fingertips, rough and gentle at the same time, pushed you tripping over the edge. You kept choking on air, inhaling more and more until your lungs burned and your mouth opened wide in a silent scream. 

Joel felt your little bud throbbing under his fingertips, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard he could barely hold off his own orgasm. He found your hand, bringing your slippery fingers back to your spent pussy.

“Keep touching your clit.”

“I can’t,” you whined back, voice barely audible, “it’s too sensitive, Joel.”

“Keep playing with it or I will,” the thought of his big rough fingertip on your sensitive bud again sent a chill down your spine, though it was far from fear that you felt. “I want your pussy choking and crying around me when I fill you up.”

You tried to steady your breathing, your trembling fingers started to work gentle circles on your pussy again. It felt raw, and every extra touch felt like a shock wave shooting through you. But it did what Joel wanted, every swipe made your pussy clench around him with extra strength and he just kept his tip inside you, stroking his shaft that was covered in your cum with his thumb and two fingers.

“Doing good, baby, keep going.”

“It’s too much.” You whined, almost breaking apart from him, but his hand kept you in place.

“It’s not, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

You could do anything for Joel, he was right there. So your fingers kept torturing your poor pussy, bringing as much pain as pleasure, and you kept squeezing around Joel’s cock, bringing him to his own release.

In one long unexpected thrust, he pushed the rest of his cock in you, growling as he spilled rope after rope of his cum inside you. The sudden movement ripped another orgasm out of you and you wailed, tears of pleasure tickling the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, baby,” he sounded everything but sorry, “had to make sure I don’t spill a drop.”

“Does it mean you’ll leave it in for the night?” There was hope in your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. Whenever Joel kept himself snug in your pussy for the night, you had the best dreams, and the horniest mornings.

He hugged you close to his chest, making sure his softening cock was still plugging you. “I don’t think I got that much control, sweetheart.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi,

I love your writing and your ideas.I was worried if you could write sth about remus as a detectiv. Maby he and reader meet on the job or they are partners.Do whatever you want. Hope this inspires you💗

Hi back! I love this idea and I lowkey thought I was gonna do better with it (I'm less thrilled with the results, sorry) but I hope you like it <3

cw: mention (and some vague flashback) of robbery

detective!Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Thunder booms, and you flinch. The detective’s eyebrows lift a millimeter. You pull his jacket closer over your wet clothes, embarrassed. 

“Can I make you some tea?” he offers. 

“No, thank you.” 

You sit in silence for a few heartbeats. The detective seems comfortable with it, but you squirm, his gaze too discerning for your liking. The rain you’ve both come in from has slicked a few tendrils of hair to his forehead, the rest fighting valiantly to curl at the ends. His face is scattered with scars you’d expect more from a hardened military type than a cop, and the circles under his eyes hint at more than one long night spent at the station. Nights probably not unlike this one, only a smattering of police around as he interviews you at his desk.

“Officer—” 

“Remus,” he reminds you gently. 

“Right, sorry.” Your voice quiets. Remus’ expression softens, going tender like he wants to reject your apology, but he doesn’t speak. “Don’t you have questions for me?” 

“I do,” he says, “but—I hope you’ll excuse me for saying—you seem rather shaken up.” 

A laugh, short and humorless, puffs out of you. 

“I’m not saying I don’t understand why.” His calm gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Witnesses are generally more reliable once they’ve had a chance to get comfortable, though. Process what they’ve seen.” 

Your fingers twist in the material of his jacket. You wonder if he takes your trembling for a traumatic response. It might be, you don’t know; your heart is hammering, but it’s also just cold in here. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” you ask. 

“Just like this.” One corner of Remus’ mouth lifts, just a little. You think of the classic good-cop-bad-cop routine from TV shows. You doubt they bother doing that with witnesses, but Remus seems so approachable you’re half wondering when his worse half will come in. “Chatting. Coming down from the adrenaline. Letting me get you tea.” 

“I’m really okay,” you say, doing your best to return his small smile. 

Remus’ warms in response. “As you like. Let’s start from the beginning, yeah? We can take breaks whenever you want.” 

You nod, preparing yourself. 

“What were you doing at the supermarket?” 

“I was…shopping?” Your response seems so obvious you turn it into a question unintentionally. Remus’ expression conveys understanding. He leans forward, setting his elbows on the desk casually. 

“I know it seems unimportant,” he says, “but I’m trying to get a full picture. What were you shopping for?” 

“Oh. Um, I was out of peanut butter.” 

“Was it raining when you went in?” 

You frown. He has to know the answer to that; it’s been raining all evening. “Yes.” 

“What did you do once you got there?” 

“I went to find the peanut butter. I was just barely going to the till when I…when the robbery happened.” 

You don’t realize you’ve mirrored Remus’ posture until his finger touches yours. You’re sitting with your elbows on the desk also, your hands millimeters from his. 

“How did you know it was happening?” Remus asks gently. “Did you see it, or was there a sound?” 

“A sound,” you confirm, your voice wavering a bit. The tip of his forefinger brushes against yours again. “The woman at the till shouted.” 

“What made her shout?” 

“I guess because he showed her the knife.” 

“Did you see that as well?” 

“Yeah. But not right then. She’d already opened the till by the time I got there.” 

The images in your head are already hazing over, memory fading into fiction. The way the employee’s short, frightened cry had made you look up from your phone, freezing you in your tracks just outside the refuge of an aisle. The man hadn’t known there was anyone else in the store. That was clear by the way his eyes widened above his surgical mask, swiveling impulsively to point the knife at you, wavering between two targets. The three of you caught together in a mess of panic. 

You don’t remember doing it, but later you found you’d set your jar of peanut butter down on a random shelf, as though that simple offering would appease the robber and save you any further trouble. 

“What was the person with the knife wearing?” Remus asks. 

“He had a blue jacket, like a windbreaker.” You put your chin to your shoulder, feeling the slick material of the jacket draped over your shoulders. A thoughtless, sleepy movement. “Sort of like this one. Without the police logo, obviously.” 

“About how tall would you say he was?” 

You shrug. “Taller than me. He wasn’t huge, but he was…I don’t know, he had a knife.” 

Remus hums, his finger stroking across your knuckle. He must have moved his hand closer without you noticing. “That must have been frightening.” 

You shrug again. 

He lets you stew in another long, heavy silence. Your face begins to feel hot. 

“Are you alright?” he finally asks, softly. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “Sorry. Just, you’re right, it was scary.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Remus’ gaze is warm. Compassionate. “I’m sure you’re tired, I don’t mean to keep you here any longer than necessary. You’ve been a big help. If it makes you feel any better, we’ve been following a robber matching this description for a while, and he doesn’t tend to repeat within the same neighborhood. So you shouldn’t worry.” 

Oh, he’s so kind. He thinks you’re all quiet and shy because you need comfort. And of course, you are rattled still, but it’s got a thing or two to do with that low voice, with those lovely, deep hazel eyes that seem soldered to yours. If Remus wants to improve your memory, he should probably stop touching your hand like a Victorian gentleman testing the bounds of propriety. 

“Do you have any more questions for me?” you ask. 

“A few,” he says, apology in his tone. “Are you sure you wouldn't like anything warm to drink? You’re shivering terribly.” 

You feel very warm, actually, but when his finger moves to your second knuckle the shivers worsen. “Um, sure. I’d have a cup of tea.”

[hotchnerwrites]

Heyy!!! Oh my god i love your writings SO MUCH i am obsessed!! And i have a request 💘💘 can you do Hotch and girlfriend just moving in together after some times of dating and Hotch noticing issues with her eating habits, her putting on home workout videos at night after dinner out of nowhere etc etc? You can do however you like smut, fluff, angst whatever feels right. YOU'RE GREAT! LOVE YOU💋💋💋💋💘💘💘 CANT WAIT!

Not So Fancy

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: SFW, allusions to smut, mentions of disordered eating, hurt/comfort

A/N: hello hello!!! thank you so much for your kind words and your patience <333 really appreciate it. i hope you don't mind, i changed your request just a little bit to make it more of a oneshot rather than many events building up. if you'd still like me to write it as separate events, please feel free to shoot me another req! more than happy to do so. anyway, i really hope you like this and it's what you wanted. enjoy the read! mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

The air was still thick with the warmth of what you’d just shared. 

You lay with your head on Aaron’s chest, his arms wrapped around you. You could hear his heartbeat beating rhythmically. Steady. Reliable. 

His fingers traced gentle patterns against your skin, and you inhaled deeply, trying to match your breathing to his pulse. But even as you lay there, content for a moment, the familiar unease still tugged at your bones, hidden beneath the surface.

Aaron stirred then, breaking you out of your reverie. He stretched his arms above his head with a satisfied sigh, ensuring not to jostle you. “You hungry?” He asked, kissing the top of your head, “Wanna eat in bed? I’ll grab some snacks.”

A simple question. So why did the malaise keep spreading?

You’d been trying to avoid this. It’s not that you weren’t hungry, but the idea of food right now felt like too much. So you forced a smile and said, “No, I’m fine,” hoping he wouldn’t notice. You weren’t trying to be difficult, but you couldn’t help it. “Thank you, though,” you added, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. 

But Aaron noticed. He always did. The way your shoulders tensed and how you instinctively tried to curl inwards. He didn’t even need to profile you; he had always been able to read you like an open book.

“Are you sure?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, though it was clear he was picking up on something more. “What about some chips, or maybe some chocolate? I’ve got those After-8 Mints you love…”

“No,” you cut him off a little too quickly, trying to make your voice sound as casual as possible. “I really just don’t wanna eat right now.”

His eyes were on you now, playfulness gone. You could feel him searching your gaze, trying to make sense of every micro-expression. You were already naked under the sheets, but this— this exposed you. Like a bloodied shard of glass laid bare for him to inspect. And you hated it.

"Hey," Aaron said softly, his tone muted, "Talk to me. What’s going on? You’ve barely eaten today."

You hesitated, trying to push away the knot in your stomach, but it only seemed to tighten with every word he spoke. You sat up slightly, arms wrapped tightly around your knees, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“I’m fine, Aaron,” you said, this time with more firmness, though your voice still trembled ever so slightly. “Really. I’m just not hungry.”

Aaron's gaze softened for a moment, but there was something behind his eyes—a concern, a quiet worry. He knew you too well by now to let this slide. “What about something light, then? Maybe some fruit? Or just a little snack?” His voice stayed gentle, but there was no mistaking the way he was probing now, trying to find a way in.

“No, Aaron. I don’t want anything.” You sighed, growing more agitated, your patience beginning to wear thin. “I really just don’t wanna eat right now, okay?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly as he leaned back on the bed, still watching you closely. “You’ve been saying that for the past few days. And every time, you get more and more distant. What's going on, really?"

You tried to brush it off, but it was starting to feel like a pressure cooker, the conversation simmering beneath the surface. The fact that Aaron wasn’t backing down only made you more defensive. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation was about to go in a direction you didn’t want it to.

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snapped a little too harshly, your shoulders stiffening. You tried to turn away from him, hoping he’d drop it. "I just don’t feel like eating right now."

But Aaron wasn’t about to let it go. His voice dropped a few degrees, and you could hear the frustration underneath the calm. “Okay, stop. I’ve seen what’s going on. You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal, but it is. You’ve barely touched any food, and I’ve noticed you sneaking in workouts late at night. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and I can’t just stand by and pretend like I don’t see it.”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around yourself as if it would shield you from the tension growing between you two. You wanted to hide, to bury the feelings, but he was too sharp, too attentive. 

“I’m just trying to get healthy,” you said quickly, hoping it would be enough of an excuse to end the conversation. “I’m just making some changes, Aaron. That’s all.”

His eyes searched yours, a mixture of confusion and concern in his gaze. “Get healthy? You’re already healthy. You don’t need to starve yourself or overexert yourself to be that. What’s really going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, trying to formulate something that wouldn’t make you sound ridiculous. But the truth was, you didn’t know how to explain it without feeling vulnerable—without feeling exposed.

“I just... I don’t know,” you began, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You’re a big, important man, Aaron. You’re a fancy guy, and I just feel like... I don’t know. I want to match up with you. To look the way you deserve. To be perfect, especially around your coworkers. You always have everything together, and I don’t want to be the one who looks out of place. I don’t want them to look at me like I’m... less than.”

He didn’t say anything after your little speech. He wasn’t even making eye contact. The silence stretched on. This was exactly why you hadn’t said a word. 

You stared down at your hands, your nails digging into your palms from how tightly you were clenching them. Humiliation prickled under your skin. You wished you could claw the words back into your mouth, pretend none of it had ever been said.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to withdraw the moment. “Forget it. I don’t know why I—”

“Stop.”

His voice wasn’t sharp. It was soft—firm in the way only Aaron Hotchner could be when he actually cared about something. It rooted you to the spot.

Finally, finally, he looked up at you. His brow was furrowed like he was thinking so hard it hurt. And then he said, very quietly, almost like he was forcing it out:

“You don’t need to look a certain way for me. Or for anyone. I love you just as you are—just you.”

You blinked at him.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he continued, the words sounding clumsy in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to letting them out. “I care about you. You could show up to a Bureau gala in pyjamas and I wouldn’t—”

He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. His ears were slightly pink.

The ache in your chest tightened, loosened, tightened again.

“I’m… I’m just trying to get healthy,” you repeated— weakly, stupidly. Trying to hold on to the walls you’d built.

Aaron didn’t argue anymore. He simply reached over, gently touching your hand. “I don’t need you to be anything but who you are. Healthy doesn’t mean forcing yourself to be something you’re not, and it doesn’t mean changing to meet some idea of perfection. And honestly, I think you already look pretty perfect to me.”

There was a long silence between you, the tension beginning to dissolve. No grand gestures or big speeches—just him showing you he understood, and that you didn’t have to prove anything.

“You... you don’t think I’m embarrassing?” you asked, his words acting like a balm on your heart.

Hotch let out a breath that was almost — almost — a laugh. 

“No," he said. "I think you’re the only thing that feels easy anymore.”

The world tilted a little sideways. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re not so fancy either, Agent Hotchner,” you mumbled, leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[everythingisamazing]

Hot Take: If Jayvik survive the finale, whatever their sexuality or romantic orientation was before, does not really matter. Why? Well, maybe I am too pan- and demisexual to fully grasp the concept of normative sexuality, but I personally believe, that it would be way more logical for them to be beyond any of those concepts (as Viktors VA perfectly said), simply because of what they have gone through. I mean, Viktor basically became a god. If you look at gods in myth, they are usually open to pretty much any gender and any type of love because...well they are a god. As a god, you are not limited by what limits humans. I also think that being part of a hive mind would erase a lot of the boundaries you felt were there before - if anything Viktor would probably struggle with knowing what his own identity actually is post finale. I am not saying that the first thing they do after waking up (in a beautiful field of flowers of course) is have sex - I actually picture it more as something that happens eventually and gradually? Like, I know it's impossible to really imagine being soulbonded with someone across different universes, but as far as you can, do you believe it's logical that, if you were, you would be bothered by something as trivial as what we percieve to be different levels of physical intimacy or someones gender? That you would care about platonic VS romantic after what they have been through? After what not only Viktor and Jayce in their timeline have gone through, but all the different iterations of them, literally containing ALL possibilities? I mean, Jayce is already touchy with Viktor to begin with and they die embracing eachother, with their lips like...5 centimeters apart. Is it really more likely, that this kind of physicality would just NEVER naturally evolve into holdings hands, a kiss and whatever more, given their situation? Do you think Jayce would be like: "You know what? Throwing my arms around you naked in the astral plane is as far as I go!" Be serious please. I also think, from a character growth standpoint, it would be really neat if Viktor would confront his past relationship with his body and learn to embrace the physical again, by experiencing the opposite of the pain of his past life - so a lot of pleasure essentially. Idk, man. Maybe I am projecting here - I just really think, even though I am not very touchy irl myself, that after going through something like that with another person, sacrificing EVERYTHING to be with them, even if it is just for a few more seconds ... you can bet your ass, that when I am getting them back, I am holding on to them with everything I've got - especially even my thighs.

[etherealrin]

hiii its my first time requesting buttt i really love your works, so i was listening to paranoia by the marias and i was wondering if you could write a jealous rin itoshi to the point it was draining, resulting in a very angsty breakup thank you soso muchh 😭😭

. ♬ ݁˖ paranoia?

tw: toxic relationship, controlling … fem!reader, wc: 589

itoshi rin has a tendency to become obsessed with things he likes: first the horror games, then soccer, and his most recent niche happens to be you.

and in hindsight, you probably should have seen this coming.

his constant texts when you’re out alone with you’re friends. “are you safe? “come back soon.”

it had all seemed harmless at first, like he’d just cared about you. and his little fits of jealousy—where he’d go dead silent, a bit sulky, and ignore you whenever he thought you preferred a friend over him. you’d found that cute in the beginning too.

like a moth to a flame, you’d set up your own demise. no matter how much you tried to reassure him, sweet talk his insecurities out of him, he’d remained jealous, greener than the grass under your fingers you stare at now. but you’d thought it was fine, that he just loved you. no matter how controlling or difficult he could be, you’d forgive him. because he needs you.

you don’t even realize you’re picking at the foliage listening to him argue with you.

“swear he’s not anything to you,” rin pesters, his long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. “delete his contact!”

“rin, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? you know he has a girlfriend, and we’re just lab partners for this semester—if i don’t talk to him how will either of us pass the class?” the guy in question was a classmate, and you could tell he truly meant no harm, not to mention that you knew the girl he was dating. which you’d constantly reassured rin of for the past week.

“…give me your phone.” his teal eyes have gone cold. is this what you are to him now? some thing that he has to keep isolated at all costs? it’s ridiculous, hell you were with him every morning, evening, and night at this point—so why couldn’t he believe that you had no one else?

it’s even worse that there’s a small crowd forming around the two of you; because of course he had to pick a fight in the middle of your university campus. the onlookers are whispering amongst themselves, obviously waiting for someone to snap.

and you don’t hear the break, but it must’ve been you, because the next thing you know, there’s a rush of adrenaline, your mouth is opening and words are tumbling out faster than you can process.

“itoshi, i’m tired. it’s too much—whatever this is, it’s not healthy. for both you and i, it’s not. if you can’t get your paranoid ass together, no one else can do it for you! i can’t fix you!” you had never once spoken to him like that before. never openly admitted that he might not be alright, mentally.

rin’s standing too still. cold, emotionless. you see straight through his facade though, as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his eyes tell. that your words might have struck too close to home for him.

but you’re still mad, so you don’t—can’t—stop. “and honestly? it’s damn annoying. sorry itoshi, i can’t do this anymore. goodbye, and good luck.”

“w-wait! you don’t mean that…” his voice trails off, slowly twisting at the edges to pure hurt. it’s agonizing, letting his protests fall to deaf ears as he begins to follow you, though you have zero intention of stopping.

it’s been three months since. you tell yourself that it’s better for the both of you this way, like you’d told him then. but was it really, if rin still sends flowers to your front door once a month, on your old anniversary date, with a heart wrenching “take me back” folded into a paper heart attached to the blood red roses?

a/n: hii anon i’m so sorry this took me a while to get to! hopefully you like it :P + alternatively he could’ve called reader a “tepid piece of shit” but given how emotionally attached he was i think it results in a rare moment of public weakness (like in u20 ykyk).

now playing: paranoia by the marías, jealous by eyedress, dark red by steve lacy

masterlist.

[ottocre]

˚✶ * hidden treasure w/ kuroo

m.list / wc: 522

    "you don't always have to have a reason for coming over," you lean against your apartment's door, hand gripping the door handle, legs crossed. 

  kuroo's standing in your doorway, a takeout bag rolled up and resting comfortably in his hand. he has a thin jacket on, one he got at work, his name and old number embroidered into the fabric. the warm spring wind never stopped him from looking his best, especially when he knew he was coming over to see you. "then don't consider this a reason, more so a treat," he leans forward, kissing the corner of your lip before walking into your kitchen.

  "that's still a reason.." you counter, looking back at him as you absentmindedly lock the door. 

  "can't a guy just treat his partner like they're the greatest thing in the world without being criticized," he rolls his eyes, reaching out his hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

  shrugging your shoulders, you try to seem nonchalant despite how in love he still makes you feel. your heart still beats quickly when he brings you closer, your face growing warm every time he compliments you. it's like you're falling in love for the first time every time you see him. yet he always seems to see past your facade, “because you are the greatest thing in my life.”

  “you’re really cheesy, you know that?” you raise your hand to wrap it around the back of his neck, playing with his shorter hairs.

  “you’re going to think i’m even cheesier after i show you this,” kuroo kisses the top of your forehead before pulling back to unravel the takeout bag, grabbing out whatever food he had procured for dinner, “you know how you’ve been collecting things from each of our dates? keeping them on the fridge or wherever..”

  he pops open the lid to a sauce, looking over at your periodically as your eyebrows begin to furrow. “yes?” you question, forearms pressing against the island counter while you lean forward. 

  smiling widely, he reaches for his pack pocket, grabbing something and hiding it in the palm of his hand. staring into your eyes, kuroo holds out his closed hand, biting at his lip. “we’ve talked about how you don’t have anything from our first date. and i know how much that annoyed you, so i went digging and found this,” he opens his hand to reveal a receipt.

  on it are the pastries he had bought you, offering to after you accidentally left your wallet at home. it also having been the first time you met. “oh ‘suro,” you grab it from his palm, ignoring the fading ink and wrinkles throughout the paper. 

  “i can’t believe you found this!” it’s hard for you to hide your excitement as you hang it up on your fridge, a small orange magnetic holding it up. god, i love you so much, you whisper beneath your breath, looking back at kuroo as he grabs a couple plates. 

  “i love you too,” he replies, happily giving you a kiss as you lean over the island counter, tasting the small bites he’s already stolen from the meal. 

[sirxlla]

Hii can I request -Accidentally saying I Love You during sex with Evan Buckley

In The Moment

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Spicy, Fluff

Prompt: above ^^^^^^

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Your headboard slammed against the bedroom wall, and on your knees, your knuckles turned white as you held onto the wood for dear life.

Evan held onto your hips and rutted his hips against yours, panting into your ear, a hand on your hip and the other beside yours on the headboard. You're screaming out his name and praising the very molecules that make him up.

"Yes! God- Fuckin- Hell- I love you!" You blurted out before you thought exactly of what you were saying, he was just making you feel so good you were just saying whatever came to mind. Evan's hips slowed as he heard those words from your lips; he smiled and then spoke.

"I love you too." He smiles and kisses your cheek before he continues his movement behind you but much slower, it's much more meaningful and passionate than lustful and fast. Evan makes sure to please the both of you completely.

He slows as the both of you climax, rubbing your hip with one hand and your arm with the other as the both of you come down slowly.

Evan slowly slips out of you, keeping his hands on your hips to keep you steady. He kisses your shoulder gently as he moves off the bed to grab a warm, wet cloth to wipe you clean.

He gently helps you onto the chair near his bed and gets you some ibuprofen and water; Evan knows how hard that position can be on someone's back.

Your brain begins to overthink, and you start to worry that maybe saying I love you wasn't the greatest decision. Evan notices the tension and worry in body, he's always been good at noticing the small details.

He strips the bed as he thinks of how you told him that you love him, a smile filling his face.

"I've never been so happy to hear someone say that." He glances over at you as he remakes the bed. His words cause you to relax and his smile causes one to fill your face. That smile kills you, it's infectious and otherworldly. After making the bed he gets you clothes and helps you into them.

Evan grabs you and picks you up easily like a princess in a bedtime story to set you back on the freshly remade bed.

"Ev, I can do it myself. You don't have to-"

"No, you're right. I don't have to...but I want to. Plus that wasnt an easy position I had you in, I know how bad your back hurts sometimes and I really wanna do this together. Be together, you know? Not just- this." He gestures between you two.

"I wanna be a couple, go on dates, and all that shit. I thought I couldn't do like a relationship, like- I know I was the one that asked for friends with benefits, but I really hope that's not what you want now 'cause I don't."

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and brought your hand up to gently caress his scar before nodding.

"Yeah, I wanna do this. I wanna have us be together. I have kinda always really liked always and didn't wanna push you into anything you weren't ready for; I know your ex was an asshole, and when you asked, I guess I thought maybe it'd be the best way to help you; I don't know, It was stupid but...I do wanna do this, you know? Us."

He nods his head and pulls you into a warm bear hug. Evan hides his face in your hair, rubbing your back gently to try to soothe any possible remaining soreness. Evan was ready to be with someone now, but only if that person was you.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[millie-multifics]

Miles to Go

Jack Abbot x f!Attending!Reader

You get called in to work after being on leave. Jack had intended to help you readjust but could not foresee the events The Pitt would face.

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of violence and injuries, panic attack present, description of infection, slight thirsting.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist

Previous | Next

x x x

Hour Two: Triage

5:00am

Your nose had been burning for an hour, your time away from the harsh aseptic smell had desensitized your healed nostrils. It made you miss the sandalwood scent of the aromatherapy candles Jack had insisted would aid your recovery. The new rubbery soles of your shoes squeaked against the tile as you approached the nurse’s station. Glancing at the screen, you searched for any empty beds.

“Look who it is.”

“I am not talking to you.” You glanced at Bridget, folding your arms to make yourself as menacing as possible. You could hear the other nurses snicker before you caved and tore your eyes away from the board. “Did you really have to share with Jack whatever it was that you heard on the phone?”

She hummed with amusement, unable to hide the mischievous glint from her eye. “Did it stir something up?”

The phone at the desk rang before you could reply, saving you from accidentally revealing the next piece of hot gossip for any eavesdropping nurse to spread.

“Incoming pedestrian vs. vehicle; eta 4 minutes.” Bridget directed over your head, to the male attending you had not realized was standing a few feet behind you.

Abbot inspects you again, noting the small sniffles you were attempting to hide and the shifting to maintain weight off your left leg. “You are supposed to be in triage.”

“There are 13 patients currently waiting to be triaged, 8 waiting on labs or scans, 6 with results back awaiting a bed and I treated and discharged 4 with minor ailments or wound care.” You sipped the remainder of your coffee to hide your satisfied smirk. “I came back here because I have a patient with an infected tattoo It looks as though it has surpassed oral antibiotics, might even be the start of sepsis but I’m still waiting on their labs to come back. Came to see if there is a bed available.”

“Central 3 just opened up.” He nodded to the empty bed across the room. “You know it wouldn’t kill you to sit in a chair while taking vitals, if your leg is sore.”

“It’s not,” You scoffed, “I am fine.”

He held his hands up in surrender before rushing off to prepare for the incoming trauma.

“Alright Mr. Driscoll, what brings you in this morning?” Despite your best attempt, you could not help but to stand at the edge of the room, surveying the patient and assessing risk factors from afar. You had caught yourself doing this for every patient you had seen since the beginning of your shift.

“Chest pains, woke me from my sleep.”

“Any family history of heart disease?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

You offered him a thermometer, waiting a few seconds before registering the temperature; 98 degrees. A perfectly normal temperature meaning his symptoms were unlikely caused by an illness.

“Eat any high fat foods lately?”

He shifted in his chair, his quickly growing agitation becoming apparent. “What does that have to do with chest pains?”

“Severe heartburn or gallstones can present as chest pain.” You explained, quickly wrapping up the preliminary examination as you began to feel uncomfortable under the mans heavy stare. “Okay Mr. Driscoll, I’ll be sending orders for an EKG to measure your heart rate, as well as a chest x-ray and blood tests to get a closer look.”

Your palm slammed against the restroom door, uncaring of your harshness when your breath caught in your chest. Sweat coated your neck and forehead, sticky and cool. The weight of the mans stare had been too familiar, full of confrontation and predation. Your body felt as if it were floating, your vision blurring as you gripped desperately to the counter. Suddenly, you were on the floor, pain radiating throughout your body. The red of your blood contrasting the white tiles as your ears rung. You could vaguely hear shouting, though it sounded like you were underwater. You tried to move, attempting to lift your body off the polished floor as you sobbed in pain.

Jack had spotted you darting through the emergency room, head tucked into your chest as you avoided colliding with the patients and nurses milling about. He watched as you slammed open the restroom door, brows wrinkling in concern as he noted that you had disappeared into the men’s restroom. His feet were moving before he could think, merely a foot away from the restroom door when he heard it…

“Dr. Abbot, code in trauma one.”

You coughed, trying to gulp air into your lungs. Your legs felt heavy as you realized you were not crumbled on the floor but standing, no injuries and no blood. As you caught your breath, your vision cleared. Facing your own tearful eyes in the mirror, you suddenly missed Jack’s steady stare.

It had not been intentional, to ever feel this way about a colleague. You had thought to yourself that the attending was quite handsome upon first glance; noting the subtle curl in the tips of his salt and pepper hair, the playfulness hidden behind his serious exterior and maybe you did have to correct yourself a few times after admiring the way his scrubs hugged his biceps but that crush had been crushed after your first year, or so you thought.

Until you were stuck in a hospital bed, confused, in pain and frightened. Jack had come in on his day off to make sure you were okay; he sat next to your bed until you had fallen asleep then helped you get home once you were released. You had not expected him to stay, to make you dinner and tuck you into bed. Nor come back the very next morning to stock your refrigerator.

Two weeks in when you finally admitted that the physical pain was not what had been keeping you up at night, he arrived with aromatherapy candles and an air mattress- merely stating that there was no way he would be sleeping on your lumpy couch.

He slowly helped you heal without making you feel like a patient or a project, simply cared for and safe.

x x x

Tags: @nosebeers @eugene-emt-roe

[covenofagatha]

I Could Be A Better Boyfriend Than Him

Ann Perkins x April Ludgate

Ann and April are sent on an errand by Leslie and they bond over their bad experiences with Andy. (Set loosely during season three)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: sex with men (not very descriptive), car sex, fingering, enemies to lovers (not really lovers though), cheating

A/N: I've been rewatching Parks and Rec and couldn't get this out of my head

It’s hard for April to look at Andy in the morning. 

He, of course, doesn’t realize anything is off. He pours cheerios into a bowl—the one bowl he owns—before dumping way too much milk into it so cereal falls to the floor. 

“Hey, babe, look at this!” he exclaims excitedly before slurping at the milk. April tries to look interested, fakes a smile and a thumbs up, and Andy begins lapping up the cheerios like a cat. 

April walks around the kitchen to try to find something to eat herself, not really feeling like cereal, only the only thing Andy has is stale bread in the pantry and a six-pack of beer in the fridge. 

“So, uh,” Andy starts and April turns around to face him. He’s finished his cheerios in an alarmingly short amount of time and there’s a rim of milk around his lips. He moves closer to her and she raises an eyebrow. “Want a repeat of last night before we go to work?” 

April cringes on the inside. Last night was the first time they had sex. 

Andy had taken her out for a romantic date at the Paunch Burger and then serenaded her with his guitar when they got back to his place, singing an original song he’d written for Mouse Rat called “I Just Wanna Have Sex With You” until she’d tossed the guitar aside and climbed into his lap and started making out with him. 

Possibly more to stop the singing than anything else, but the message had been clear. 

He’d picked her up to take her to his room and she’d squealed, a sound she does not normally make, and she was actually excited. Andy was the first person she actually liked and he liked her back and they were going to have super hot sex and she was going to wear his marks on her like badges of honor to the office tomorrow, where she could rub it into Ann Perkin’s stupid face that Andy chose her and April was happier than Ann was, so take that. 

April had fumbled with the one belt Andy owned and then unzipped his khaki shorts and she had hiked up her skirt, the one Leslie called, “Professional, but not too professional,” and reached down between them to give Andy’s now-free cock a quick stroke. He grabbed a condom out of the drawer and gave it to her to rip open with her teeth and then roll it on him.

He had hissed and she had sunk down on him because she was wet already, because he drove her crazy and she had been waiting for this, and then Andy’s face seized up like he was about to sneeze and April’s eyes had flared—surely he couldn’t. 

He sure could. 

Andy twitched inside her and let out a groan and that was it. 

Not even five seconds. 

He lifted her off him and she flopped on the bed next to him, a look of disbelief on her face. Andy pulled the condom off, tied it up, and then shot it like a basketball at the wastebasket in the corner of his room. 

It missed and hit the carpeted floor, thankfully not exploding open. 

And then he turned to her, a look of joy on his face. “That was awesome!” He laughed and April knew he was being genuine, but a doubt crossed her mind—what was she doing here?

Andy fell asleep quickly after that, holding her against his chest, but April stayed awake, staring at the four Mouse Rat posters he had posted on the wall by the closet. 

It was just their first time. They’d get better at it. 

But the fact that Andy hadn’t even seemed concerned that he came immediately after getting inside of her? 

Whatever, she thought and rolled her eyes. 

The next time, it would go better. 

Being presented with the option of a next time, right now in the harsh bright light of day streaming in through Andy’s sliding glass that’s broken, April suddenly couldn’t bring herself to want anything less. 

“Sorry, babe, I promised Leslie I would do, like, some stupid thing for her. I have to go in early,” she says, rolling her eyes like usual at her boss’s antics, however real or imagined, and Andy shrugs. 

Leslie will probably have something stupid for her to do and she’ll procrastinate by seeing how many paper-clips she can throw at Jerry before he notices.

“Well, get ready for tonight, pretty lady, because you are all mine,” Andy says and pecks her on the mouth and she can taste the milk that’s a bit too sour. She wrinkles her nose in disgust but doesn’t say anything. 

The worst thing about the whole incident is that April was actually turned on and she didn’t get any semblance of satisfaction and now there’s still molten heat in her core. 

Not that it matters now. 

April just has to accept that this is what a relationship with Andy might look like. She might need to invest in a vibrator—can she somehow snoop through Donna’s phone? Donna definitely would have good advice, except April refuses to ask for any at all, because she definitely doesn’t actually care about anyone in the office and doesn’t need them knowing anything about her personal life. 

People are the worst. 

“I’ll see you later. Have a good day at work,” April says before grabbing her keys and bag. Andy gives her another kiss and grabs her ass and there’s a spark in her cunt but she pushes him away, not able to deal with more disappointment. 

Work is awful, as usual. 

With the Harvest Festival coming up, Leslie is in even more of a hypomanic mood than usual and when she’s not fawning over Ben or drowning Ann with compliments that make April’s skin burn just listening to them, she’s ordering everyone around and giving them inane tasks that make April want to poke her eyes out with a pencil, slowly, just to show her boss what her insanity has driven her to. 

Even Ron is no fun and April is still pretending to be a little mad at him for telling Andy that she was in the hospital with the flu a few weeks ago, even if it led to a reconciliation. 

Look where that got me, April thinks to herself bitterly. Unsatisfied sex for the rest of my life. 

“Hey, April!” Ann says, stopping in front of her desk. She’s carrying three full binders; surely some errand for Leslie. 

April rolls her eyes. “What?” 

Ann falters. “I was just wondering—” 

“No,” April cuts her off and Ann frowns. 

Leslie steps out of her office and catches sight of them with a loud gasp and April burrows down into her chair, knowing what’s coming next. 

“My two favorite women in the whole world!” Leslie gushes, walking over with her arms held out. April makes a face and Ann beams. “April, you intelligent little mouse.” 

“Ew,” April deadpans.

“And Ann, you beautiful, talented, brilliant, powerful musk ox,” Leslie sighs and Ann tilts her head in bemusement. “I need you two to do something for me.” 

“Absolutely not,” April exclaims immediately. “I’m not going anywhere with that she-devil. Send Tom, or Jerry. Maybe Ann can make out with them, too.” 

Ann exhales slowly. “For the last time, April, I said I was sorry for kissing Andy. It meant nothing and it will never happen again.” 

April wonders if the sex for them was bad, too. 

Leslie purses her lips and looks back and forth between her coworkers. “April, could I see you in my office for a second?” 

April groans but stands up and follows her. Leslie shuts the door behind her and April can see Ann looking a little dejected. 

Good. 

“I didn’t want to say anything—”

“Then don’t. Okay, thanks,” April interrupts and reaches for the door handle but Leslie calls her name. April begrudgingly turns around. 

Leslie softens and bounces on her feet. She looks very much like a child in a gray pantsuit right now. “Look, Ann and Chris broke up and she didn’t realize that he broke up with her and it was very uncomfortable and now she’s devastated—” Leslie shoots a pointed glare at the wicked smirk spreading on April’s face, “—so she really needs some girl-time to get her mind off the whole thing.” 

April’s head drops back with a sound almost like a whimper. “Why can’t you do it? Or Donna? Or anyone but me?” 

“I have three town hall meetings to run and I still have to finalize the list of vendors and Donna is…not here. She called me and told me she’d be late.” 

April wants to stomp her foot and refuse but Leslie’s eyes widen and she looks so desperate that April can’t help but agree. “Fine. But if Ann so much as tries to make conversation, I’m calling the police and telling them she kidnapped me.” 

Leslie looks happier than she does when she gets waffles. “Thank you so much! I need you to go to the store and get a projector, a screen, and a DVD, something family-friendly. I’m thinking that on the last night of the Festival, we do a giant movie in the park for everyone, something that brings the whole thing to a close.” 

April hums. “Okay, got it. Get the scariest R-rated horror movie ever. How's…’The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’? It was my favorite movie as a kid.”

Leslie looks at her for a moment, unable to tell if she’s joking or not, before nodding to herself. “I’ll tell Ann.” 

April follows her back out into the main space of the Parks department room where Leslie repeats everything she just said to Ann, who claps her hands joyfully. April rolls her eyes. 

“I think that’s a great idea, Leslie,” Ann says and April has the urge to mock her. Annoyance is gnawing at April that Ann just got broken up with and this is how she looks, perfectly wavy hair, poreless skin, and a silk red blouse tucked into black pants. 

April doesn’t even look that nice when she tries. 

And now she can’t get the thought of Andy and Ann having sex out of her head and her brows furrow in anger as she tries to push that image out, thinking about anything else. 

Luckily, Jerry walks in, carrying two cups of coffee, and, in likely Jerry-fashion, slips comically on a piece of paper on the floor. Jerry stumbles but puts his hands on the table to catch himself, forgetting that he was carrying two cups of coffee. 

The table is now covered in liquid and it drips onto the floor and Jerry sheepishly pushes himself up. “Aw, geez.” 

“Come on, Jerry!” Leslie criticizes while Tom cackles from somewhere in the background. April can’t help the grin growing on her face. “Clean this up and get back to work.” 

Jerry shuffles his hands and shakes his head at himself. “I’m sorry, guys. Right away, Leslie.” 

“Well, April, shall we?” Ann asks, shifting her weight from one foot to another. 

April makes a big show of sighing and rolling her eyes. “If we must. Better go now so you have more time to make out with everyone.” 

Ann looks at Leslie but decides that it’s not worth it. April leads Ann out of the building into the parking lot, where April realizes she doesn’t know what kind of car Ann drives. 

“This way,” Ann mutters, guiding her over to a light blue MINI Cooper. 

There’s still an uncomfortable wetness in April’s underwear that’s seemed to have gotten worse. She can feel it with every step she takes. 

April slides into the passenger seat and groans quietly because of course Ann’s car smells like a tropical island. Meanwhile, April’s smells like Paunch Burger from her date with Andy last night. 

There must be some sort of unresolved jealousy that April feels toward Ann, probably over Andy. Is she afraid that she doesn’t measure up? Insecure that Andy still likes Ann better? 

That must be it, she decides, and scowls out the window. 

“So,” Ann says eventually, after they’ve been driving for two minutes. April knows because she’s been counting in her head and is going to make Leslie reimburse her for all the time spent with Ann. “How are things with Andy?” 

“Why?” April snaps, and she really needs to learn to let things go sometimes. “Going to sink your claws into him now that you’re not with Chris anymore?” 

Something flashes across Ann’s face and April feels something she normally doesn’t feel, especially around this woman—regret. 

April sinks into her seat and wraps her yellow cardigan around her, as if protecting herself. “Things are fine.” 

Ann reaches over and pats her on the thigh. Her touch is covered by the purple leggings April has on, but April can still feel the warmth of her fingertips. The heat in her stomach grows hotter and April shifts uncomfortably. 

“I am very happy for you both,” Ann says honestly and this time, April squirms. “Andy is a great guy and you are an amazing young woman and you make a good pair.” 

The question climbs up April’s throat and throws itself out before she has a chance to stop it. “How was the sex when you were together?” Her eyes widen, horrified, and Ann looks over at her. 

“Um…why?” Ann chuckles nervously and April wants to roll her eyes. 

“He and I had sex for the first time last night and he—” April cuts herself off, pulling the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands because maybe she can just disappear. 

Ann nods. “Yeah. It was always kind of like that. And then you’re stuck in a state of horniness and after a while, it stops becoming fun to take care of yourself because he should be able to.” 

The thought of Ann taking care of herself isn’t one April hates as much as she should. 

“I don’t know what to do,” April says, admitting it for the first time out loud and to herself. She looks down at her fingers. “I’m sorry about Chris.” 

Ann actually looks surprised at the sympathy and April silently begs her not to make a big deal out of it. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s for the best. He wanted me to be so healthy and run all the time? Ugh.” She shudders and April can’t help but laugh. 

A moment of silence lapses over them, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it was before. April isn’t sure what’s happening to her. 

Just last night, Andy devoured three Paunch burgers in her car and then chugged Sprite so he’d burp really loudly. And April had thought it was the funniest thing ever. 

Now, having an actual conversation with Ann, whom she had always hated, was making April not want to go back to the person she was last night. 

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Ann offers with a quick glance and reaches over to pat April’s leg again, “just let me know.” 

Her hand doesn’t leave April’s leg and April hates how she can feel the heat seeping into her veins. There’s a tug in her gut and it’s like she felt last night, when she and Andy were finally going to have sex. 

But April doesn’t think Ann would let her down like he did. 

“What are you offering?” April asks with none of her usual bite, sure she’s just imagining things. 

Ann shrugs casually, fingers tapping against the inside of April’s thigh. “I know how hard it can be to date him. I’m just saying, if you want some…relief.” 

April swallows roughly but doesn’t push her hand away. “I hate you. Why would you do this?” 

“Because you deserve better than someone who can barely make it inside you. You deserve to feel good, too, April. It took me a long time to learn that and I don’t want you to go that long without knowing it.” 

Ann’s hand creeps higher and April uncrosses her arms so the yellow cardigan isn’t blocking the hem of her leggings from Ann’s fingers. April’s breathing labors as Ann slips inside her pants and April shifts in her seat to give her better access. 

“This doesn't change anything, you know,” April spits out and gasps when Ann cups her over her underwear. 

“You’re wet,” Ann says quietly, ignoring April’s hostility. April can feel it, the stickiness against her cunt, and her own fingers dig into the door. 

Ann probes at her entrance through her panties and April bites the inside of her cheek to stifle a moan. Ann is still driving and they’re almost to the store and April cannot believe that her mortal enemy has her hand down her pants. 

At the red light, Ann carefully watches April’s face as she peels her underwear to the side and touches her bare cunt for the first time. 

It’s a struggle for April to remain unfazed. Ann’s hand is warm and soft and April is soaked and needy and it’s so frustrating. 

“I want to hear you,” Ann whispers but April shakes her head firmly—she won’t give her that satisfaction. But Ann’s deft fingers slip through her folds and April thinks can hear her wetness and her cheeks burn and a small gasp slips out from her lips when Ann circles around her clit. 

Circling, but never touching. 

April lets out a frustrated grunt and bucks her hips. 

“Say, ‘please, Ann’,” Ann drawls and April thinks she actually hates her more when she’s being vindictive. 

April refuses for another minute—she knows because she’s counting to compare it to sex with Andy—but Ann teases even more, gliding down to press at April’s entrance, not pushing in, and then slicking back up to rub around her clit. 

Eventually, April rolls her eyes and fights to keep her voice as level and sarcastic as possible. “Please, Ann.” 

Ann smirks but follows through and the first touch to April’s clit makes her bite her lip hard. Pleasure already sparks in her core and April rocks back and forth to get more. 

“You really like this,” Ann remarks in awe and just before April retorts, Ann pushes a finger into her. 

April’s mouth drops open and her walls clench around the intrusion. It’s already so much better than Andy, she’s already so much closer. 

But Ann is smug and April needs to knock her down. “You’re still the worst. This doesn’t change anything,” she repeats but Ann just tuts and curls her finger. 

The angle is weird and awkward and Ann is still driving, albeit under the speed limit and sometimes the car swerves dangerously, but nevertheless, she fucks another finger into April. The burn is exactly what April needs and her walls grip around her digits, trying to draw her further in.

Ann is practiced and clinical and her wrist is bent in a weird way but the palm of her hand bumps against April’s clit and her fingertips hit the special spot inside her each thrust and it’s getting April further than anyone else ever has. 

A stupid song is playing on the radio and Ann effortlessly turns into the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel and April is panting and she can feel the redness in her face. She thinks that she will need to quit her job and move away from Pawnee because she can’t ever walk into City Hall again. 

What if it gets out? What if it gets out that Ann fucked April in her MINI Cooper on the way to the grocery store because they were talking about their disappointing shared ex and current boyfriend. 

Leslie would probably love it. She would throw a party and make them a binder and loudly announce she was coming into rooms they were in. Donna would be cool, April thinks, except for the offhand joke every now and then. Tom would be annoying. Ron wouldn’t care. That’s why April likes him the best. 

And Andy…what would he say? 

Ann parks the car far away from the other cars and April unbuckles her seatbelt and her fingers twist roughly and her palm harshly smacks April’s clit. 

April yelps. 

Her legs are cramping from the awkward position and her lower back starts to ache but sparks are tingling up her spine and her moans are gradually growing more unrestrained. 

April can clearly hear her wetness now and it’s embarrassing and she’ll kill Ann if Ann ever dares mention this again or to anyone else. 

As much as she hates to admit it, April is getting closer, her cunt is throbbing and her clit is pulsing, and she knows that Ann knows, too. 

“Tell me you like this,” Ann demands and April could strangle her and she bites her lip so the words don’t accidentally slip out. 

Ann scissors her fingers and then curls them sharply and her nails scrape against April’s walls and April lets out a noise. 

She slows her thrusts down because she is intent on torturing April. April’s eyes prick with tears and she shakes her head furiously. 

“I’ll stop,” Ann warns and April thinks that they might be more alike than she realized. 

Her fingers are barely moving now and the desperation has fogged up April’s brain and she doesn’t really have a choice, does she? 

“I like this…Ann.” She adds her name as an afterthought because if Ann made her say it, it might cause her to shrivel up and die. 

Ann smiles triumphantly, finally having the cold and mean April Ludgate wrapped around her fingers. 

Literally and figuratively. 

“I still hate you though,” April chokes out to regain some hint of power. 

It’s unconvincing to both of them. 

She’s about to come, her orgasm is building in her muscles, and she’s determined to let it wash quietly over her. 

But she should’ve known Ann wouldn’t have let that happen. 

“Ask for it,” Ann says and April grits her teeth. 

“Let me come,” April demands in a gruff voice and the audibility of her desire shocks her. 

Ann clucks her tongue and curls her fingers again and April is so close. 

“Can I please come, Ann?” April reluctantly mumbles, trying to sound sickly sweet and venomous so Ann knows she doesn’t mean it. 

But Ann apparently doesn’t care if April is faking it because she thrusts fast and hard without moving her palm off April’s clit. “Come for me, April.” 

April’s orgasm washes over her, finally getting the relief she’s been waiting for since last night, and it’s so much better than anything she thinks she’ll ever get from Andy. 

And it’s fucking annoying. 

Ann pulls her hand out of April’s leggings before wiping her glistening fingers on her black pants and April swipes her hair behind her ears and quickly gets out of the car. 

Ann looks as composed as ever while April can feel how much of a mess she’s become. “This doesn’t change anything,” she repeats, because maybe the third time is the charm and this time, she won’t mean it. 

“Okay, April,” Ann says, sounding resigned. “But if you ever need some relief, you know how to ask for it.” 

April’s eyebrows twitch as Ann starts casually walking in the direction of the store and she glowers at her. 

“This is never happening again,” April calls after her and she can hear Ann scoff. 

It’s a lie and they both know it. 

——

It becomes something they just do now. 

Sex with Andy never gets better and Ann is all too willing to bend her over the bathroom sink at City Hall or finger her in her car again or eat her out when they’re the only two left in the office. 

One time, after Ann gets her own office and she starts working for the city government, she wears a strap and makes April ride her. 

It’s the most intense orgasm April’s ever had. 

After each time, April says the same thing: “This doesn’t change anything. This doesn’t mean anything.” 

It gets harder to make it sound believable each time. 

[harrywavycurly]

Id love a super soft moment between Harry and baby momma. I’m just in need of fluff ☺️

Hiii lovey!! I hope you enjoy this little blurb that shows a soft moment between Harry and his baby momma!💖

Find all this Worth the Fight: Here

CW: Pregnancy stuff

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift @prettygurl-2009 @blueleonor @daphnesutton @angeldavis777 @harryssunflower17 @blckburd @tinawritesstuff @inlikea-coolway @mothersversiononly

Summary: You and Harry are enjoying some time in the pool✨

“I think Paris is upset he’s not allowed outside.” Harry turns to look at his sliding back door that he knows the orange cat is sitting in front of, staring at his mom from inside the house as Harry carefully helps you down the steps of the pool.

“He’s not an outdoor cat.”

“He could be.”

“Right so when he runs off over the fence you’d trust him to come back?”

“He’d never leave me.” Harry can’t help the smile that takes over as your grip on his hand tightens as you stand on the last step. “He loves me.” You add making Harry just nod as he turns so he’s fully facing you, standing in the shallow end of his pool so the water is only slightly past his waist as he holds his other hand out for you to take to help you down the final step.

“Is the water too cold for you today?” He asks as he sees your face twist up as you take the final step into the pool. “If it is we can-”

“It’s fine I just-I’m kind of hungry.” You say shyly as you tilt your head over to the side of the pool where your bottle of water and snacks are sitting on top of a towel.

“You just ate three slices of watermelon-”

“So?”

“So you said you wanted to swim for a bit then you’d go finish your snack.” He reminds you with a chuckle as you turn your head to glare at him but he knows by the way you lick your lips that your mind isn’t really on being annoyed with him, it’s focused on the leftover watermelon and grapes in the bowl by the edge of the pool.

“Okay well what if I swim over there? Does that count?” You ask as Harry slowly begins walking you deeper into the pool so your belly is fully submerged.

“Baby it’s whatever you want to do.” He watches your shoulders relax as the water begins to help take some of the pressure off your back and hips as the water hits just below your chest. “If you want to swim over to your snack bowl then that’s fine or if you want-”

“You could hold my snack bowl for me?” He feels you give his hands a squeeze as you take a step closer to him. “While I swim around for a bit?” He chuckles as you bring his hands to rest on the sides of your belly. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Oh yes it sounds like so much fun.”

“Did you feel that?” Harry looks down at where his hands are on your belly and smiles when he feels another small kick to his palm. “Even they think that sounds like fun.”

“Already ganging up on me huh?” He mumbles as he leans in so he can place a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” You let out a small squeal of excitement as Harry pulls away and goes off to grab your snack.

“I wonder if they’ll have curly hair.” Your voice is soft as you slowly swim around Harry who is standing in the shallow end of the pool holding your bowl of fruit in one hand and your fork in the other. “I know they’ll have your eyes but-”

“What makes you think they’ll have my eyes?” He asks as he takes your fork and stabs a piece of watermelon with it before handing it to you.

“Even Paris has your eyes.”

“What’s that have to do with anything? He’s not mine.”

“Harry that is so-” You pause to take a bite of the watermelon on your fork making Harry roll his lips together to stop the laugh that’s bubbling up in his chest from coming out. “Rude.” You finish after swallowing and handing the now empty fork back to Harry.

“Sorry love but it’s true? Paris isn’t mine.”

“And yet he still has your eyes so of course the babies that are actually yours will have green eyes.”

“I hope they have your laugh.” You stop swimming and turn to stare at Harry who just goes about his duty of holding your snack, stabbing a grape for you this time instead of watermelon. “What? Are you okay?”

“You-you like my laugh?”

“I like everything about you.” He states casually while holding the fork out for you to take. “But yes your laugh is very high on the list of the things I like most about you.”

“There’s a list? What’s at the top?” Harry smiles as you take the fork from him but instead of continuing to swim around him you just stand there staring at him with your eyes slightly wide and a faint blush to your cheeks.

“Your charming personality of course.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Now Cranky we’ve talked about this.” Harry says in as stern of a voice as he can given his current situation. “You shouldn’t use such language in front of the children.” He explains as he moves closer to you so he can reach out and place his free hand on the side of your face.

“Oh so I can’t say curse words in front of them but you can let them listen to you sing about choking and the female-”

“Just eat your snack and let me tell you all the things I like most about you okay?” He says interrupting you making you roll your eyes as he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Your eyes and smile are tied for number one spot on my list.” You smile as he leans in again but this time it’s to place a sweet kiss to your lips that has you pouting when he pulls away and drops his hand from your face.

“Then it’s your laugh because I swear I’ve never heard anything so adorable and I think after that it’s your sense of humor that I only imagine was shaped by all the books you read because you sweetheart are very-”

“Nerdy? Dorky?” You ask before eating the grape off your fork so you can hand it to Harry who takes it with a smile and shake of his head.

“I was going to say quirky.” He informs you as he looks down at the bowl of fruit trying to determine which one you might want next.

“If I wasn’t so hungry I’d probably be very turned on right now with how sweet you’re being.” Harry lets out a loud laugh as he hands you the fork with a strawberry on it, you just shoot him a little wink as you begin to swim around him again.

“Ah yes being hungry does always beat out being horny when it comes to you.”

“Well you have that rule about food in bed so yeah hunger wins every time.”

“It’s not a rule it’s just you-you wanted to bring a cake into bed and I know how you eat so I knew half of it was going to end up on the sheets.”

“I don’t complain about how messy you get when you eat in bed so you shouldn’t complain about-”

“I don’t-I don’t eat in bed?” Harry has an eyebrow raised as he watches you turn and head to the steps of the pool while eating the last bit of strawberry off your fork, leaving him standing there in the shallow end of the pool with your now nearly empty fruit bowl in his hand.

“Maybe not food but you definitely eat in bed Harry.” You explain as you stop at the bottom of the steps and turn your head to look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh oh and-and you think I’m a messy uhm eat-eater?”

“I think you should hurry up and help me out of the pool because I’m not hungry anymore.” Harry is moving in your direction before the words finish leaving your mouth.

[azaharinflames]

I’m a screenwriter with little trust in this show at times, but I’m too fully on the BuckTommy train to stop. So here are my thoughts about the scoff. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks and I don’t think it’s going to get more clear, so stick with me.

I think the way the scoff was delivered was meant to point towards Eddie not being straight. BUT!

If that were true then this would’ve been the clear line of thought for the rest of the scene, then in the next episode you’d see the direct repercussions of this line come up. You’d have seen it come up in Buck’s talk with Maddie. There would be even a small moment with Eddie in Texas. There would need to have been reference to Eddie being not straight at any point from 8x12 to 8x15, and (more importantly) prior to 8x11. Something there has never been in the history of 911. I’d say the closest moment was with Ana, and the panic attack. that turned into a PTSD storyline. And then the talk about dating being performative, which happened two girls (Marisol, Kim) ago. So the only canon anything that leans towards Eddie not being straight is Tommy’s scoff, that had no repercussions when it needed it in order to keep the line of plot. By now, it’s dropped. On TV, you basically need to keep the ball in the air for something like that. Once it falls, picking it up looks ridiculous because you’re banking on an audience to remember one thing from over a month earlier. Buck and Eddie went right back to their normal friendship directly after that moment with Tommy — the line was dropped.

“What about Eddie telling the priest he’s straight?” Same deal. If we saw any sort of reaction telling us otherwise, it could’ve been used to say that Eddie’s lying/repressed/whatever people are saying. But it wasn’t. So it isn’t. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Especially when I think the priest asked if he comes there often, which is a known pickup line. So Eddie’s response is a joking response to it. So this comes down to if Tim’s trying to force the audience into thinking Eddie isn’t, just by these two lines alone, but it’s not enough by far. Would be sloppy and genuinely bad writing. It could be a clear shut down just as easy as proof of anything else — and that’s not good writing. I’d lean towards shut down if I had any frame of reference for the rest of the season, but narratively it’s a shut down due to nothing to back it up.

Back to the kitchen. If someone randomly accused your best friend of not being straight, you would probably have more of a reaction. For Buck, confusion being the main one if he thought Tommy was serious. See the beginning of the scene. But Buck doesn’t question him, he doesn’t think he’s serious. Buck hesitates, reorients himself, to throw out the line about sleeping with someone he has feelings for. He sees Tommy saying that Eddie isn’t straight, not as a reveal about Eddie, but as a slight to Buck for thinking that anyone he’s around he’s going to sleep with. See the backlash from the breakup.

I’ve said it a million times, but the writers build a scene towards a joke or a moment and don’t actually care about anything else. The big hit of the scene was what Buck said about sleeping with people — which Tim said was about Buck 1.0. And probably some ass covering from the biphobia backlash. The point of the scene was that Tommy is worried about how close Buck and Eddie are, that having a guy that close means bad stuff for Tommy — the scene said that’s not true. The point of the scene with Maddie is Buck making it clear he isn’t interested in Eddie. Which either is terrible writing to set up Buddie because it would be shockingly sudden and terrible, or proof that Maddie doesn’t really know Buck all that well.

I can’t tell if the show is leaning towards Buddie, BuckTommy, or a love triangle. Because narratively it’s should be BT, it makes way more narrative sense at this point, but lack of trust says Buddie because of TM wanting shock factor and claiming these were all dropped hints. But if they were dropped anything, they were dropped ploy lines.

This probably made no freaking sense at all, but yeah.

TLDR: If the scoff was supposed to mean gay Eddie then they wrote the entire season wrong. Much more likely the scoff was used solely to get to Buck’s line about not sleeping with everyone. Which was the hit of the scene. The writers play hopscotch in their scenes, as long as they hit what they want to they fill it all in with other stuff. They wanted competition and they wanted the end, the middle stuff didn’t matter, because if it did, we would’ve seen it. Which we didn’t. So Buck and Tommy should be safe and back together soon if the show follows their own narrative, but wtf knows anymore

I’m a firm believer that the scoff was not meant to be anything that indicated Gay Eddie. Even Oliver said in an interview he didn’t think Tommy scoffed because he didn’t think Eddie was straight.

I’ve said it before - Tommy reacts that way because Buck is not answering that question. I’ll use the same example I used back then. If I were to be asked if I wanted pasta a la carbonara for lunch, but my answer was that I am a vegetarian… would I be answering the question? not really, right? Because even when I don’t eat meat, I could want pasta a la carbonara. The only thing stopping me is my dietary preferences.

I think Tommy saw it this way, too. Buck is not telling him he doesn’t have feelings directly; instead, he denies it by using something out of his control. Only later he also confirms he doesn’t have feelings, but it’s not exactly effective in this case. However, 811 makes a clear show of Buck not having any feelings for Eddie whilst having them for Tommy.

And it would’ve been easy to show Buck hesitating in his negative. Or not fully denying it, even. But he denies it multiple times, and makes a point to remind the audience Tommy is the man he has feelings for.

Furthermore, they could’ve done something to keep putting Eddie into their narrative, yet they purposefully didn’t. Even RG said that storyline is completely separated from his.

They are not doing a love triangle. That is something that bobs are now clinging to, but honestly? Tommy mentioning Eddie was a cheap way the show had to narrow his insecurities down and make them easier to work through, not something they did to show there is something brewing there.

Eddie has had his moments in the show, but he’s not queer, and they’ve made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion. And RG has made clear plenty of times he’s not interested in Buddie.

So. I understand being in fandom can be confusing, but this once? Yeah it’s clear the show is not going for Buddie.

But they’ve sent plenty of signs that they’re still rooting for Bucktommy.

[isolatedrose]

A Message In The Water (Part II)

(this is a repost because tumblr flagged it as mature for some reason T-T)

Part I

Part II

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Mermaid Reader

Summary: Arthur picks up your precious jeweled comb, leading to a chance encounter between the two of you. He thought you were the stuff of legends. Reader is a mermaid.

Word Count: 2.2k AO3 Link

Notes: Not proofread yet, I’ll do it later. I also took a lot of liberties with the dialogue and progression of scenes in the game. I really appreciate the love this fic is getting, so thank you!

The metal tub the auctioneers shoved you in was too cramped for you, as your tail was hanging off of the edge. At the news of the auction holding a mermaid, the showroom was filled to the brim with investors, businessmen, and collectors eager to witness the sight of the creature of legends. A velvet curtain kept you hidden from preemptive prying eyes. 

The past events that led up to this moment were a blur. One moment you were dragged on a boat by fishermen and the next you were shipped to the nearest auction house to be sold to the highest winning bidder. 

You were exhausted, your limbs and tail depleted of energy from trying to resist your captors. The open air was also taking a toll on your lungs as you’ve never been out of water for this long before. The sellers simply filled the tub with a pitiful amount of water. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! I’m sure you have heard about our most exciting addition to our collection.” The auctioneer's booming voice echoed across the showroom.

“What we are about to show you, I can most definitely guarantee, is real despite what you might have heard.”

Two men at the outskirts of the stage began to tug on the pulley, slowly opening the curtains to begin the grand reveal that was you.

“It is my greatest pleasure to present to you, a mermaid!” The auctioneer gestured grandly with his arm towards you, the spotlight exposing you to the public.

Exclamations of all kinds exploded throughout the audience. Shouts were bouncing across the room, and people were already shooting up their auction signs.

“Now, now, settle down everyone. I will begin the bid at $500. Any takers?”

“600!”

“850!”

“1000!

“We have a $1000! Anyone for $1100?” 

Your eyes were blank and dull as you stared off into the crowd, all of the audience’s heading eyes blurring together. You heard prices being sounded off at every second. 

“$5000.” 

The enormity of the price made viewers go quiet, but for you it made your heart palpitate in your chest. The realization of you actually being sold hit you like a freight train.

“$5000! Anyone for $5100?” 

Voices were at a murmur at this point. No one could dare exceed that price unless they sought to fall to destitution.

“$5000 going once, twice, three times.” The auctioneer shoots off, yet no one chimes in.

“Sold! To Mr. Desmond Blythe!”

—————

Arthur adjusts his coat and blue cravat just before he enters the waterboat’s poker room. A grim frown was set in his face at just having his guns taken away from him. He wasn’t too keen on robbing empty handed like this, but as always, he had to put up with Trelawny’s plan and antics. He’d have to hold onto his words that “these people were virtually idiots.”

Arthur and Trelawny swing the ornate doors open, and the con man next to him switches tones immediately to one of fanfare and frivolity. 

“Now have a good time, but don’t lose too much money or your wife is going to kill me!” Trelawny clamps a hand over Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Whatever you say.” Arthur drawls. 

The chords from the piano music thrums loudly throughout the poker room. Arthur saunters casually across the floor, observing the poker tables where he knew men with heavy pockets sat. Arthur saw the empty seat left just for him, for Arthur Callahan specifically. He caught sight of Strauss, but knew not to let his gaze linger too long.

However, just before he took a seat, he froze in his tracks. His eyes were locked onto one thing. Right next to the piano was a grand, glass tank filled to the brim with water. Inside the container, was you. 

After you were sold to the highest bidder, the man acquired the largest glass tank he could acquire and shoved you in for his own and his business rivals’ entertainment.

At every tap or bang of the glass, you’d jerk away in fear, but to the spectators, they were thrilled at any movements you made, as your glittering tail moving through the water was spectacular enough. Desmond Blythe’ ego could not be inflated any further. He boasted to every onlooker about how he gained a magnificent piece that was once thought mythical to his collection. You attempted to ignore the humans gawking at you, but it proved little use as the tank’s size was nothing compared to the space you had at home. 

You kept your gaze averted from the continuing passerbyers, but one figure stood in front of your tank. You expected the same tapping and banging you experienced previously, but this person was stock still. Out of curiosity, you finally lifted your head.

You gasp as bubbles escape your lips. It was Arthur! You drew close to the glass and placed both hands against it, lowering yourself to be eye level with him. You looked at him desperately, so happy to see a familiar face.

Arthur eyes gazed at you, weak and tender. But his mouth was set in a grimace. You sensed something was wrong.

Your buyer, Desmond Blythe, strolled up next to Arthur. “Amazing specimen, is it not? Mr…?”

“Callahan. Arthur Callahan.” He turned his head and shook Desmond’s hand. 

“She— might I ask where you found… it?” Arthur is careful with his words.

“Oh it wasn’t me, but a group of fishermen. I paid a mighty fine price for it at an auction.” Desmond crosses his arms, his chest puffed out in pride. “I can still hardly believe my eyes, a mermaid.”

“Me neither…” 

Desmond pats his shoulder. “Well Mr. Callahan, I’ll bet that empty seat is yours, correct? You can still take a look at it after the game.” The businessman leaves Arthur and proceeds to walk to the poker table.

You looked between him and Desmond, confused as to what Arthur’s affiliation was with these people. A seed of doubt is planted in your mind, but it is swiftly brushed aside when Arthur takes a step closer to the tank. He overlaps his hand with yours, the glass the only barrier between you two. He gives you an almost imperceptible nod before he turns to take a seat at the poker table.

The game between all the men proceeded until it was just Arthur and Desmond left. You couldn’t fully make out the words from where you were, until you heard a distinct cursing from your buyer. He throws his hand of cards on the table.

“Shit… shit!”

Arthur opens his arms to gather the chips to his side. “You got something else to play with?”

“… I got a watch.” Desmond offers slowly.

Mischief glints in Arthur’s eyes. “Look at you.”

Desmond scowls, pissed at his sarcasm. “An expensive one. A Reutlinger, worth more than you.”

Arthur leans back in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm to rest his chin. “Not enough.”

“What?” Desmond quirks an eyebrow.

“The pot’s pretty big now Mr. Blythe, and the stakes are high. No, I want something else you can bet on the line.”

“And what is that?” He pressed Arthur, falling into his trap.

Arthur is quiet for a moment until he speaks again. “The mermaid.”

Desmond practically sputters while Strauss right behind him stiffens in his seat, knowing full well that this wasn’t the plan. He glances sternly at Arthur, but he ignores the old man. Even Trelawny wouldn’t be too happy with these turn of events.

“Excuse me?” His mustache can’t hide the obvious red growing in his face.

“You heard me. I want you to bet with the mermaid.” The playfulness from earlier is gone from Arthur’s voice. “Here,” he pushes all of his earned chips to the center of the poker table. “I’ll go all-in right now.” 

“Absolutely not! I paid a fortune for it!”

“Whatever you paid for her, I’ll match it and double it. In cash.”

“Double?” Desmond's eyes are wide, but now he’s enticed by such a tempting offer. 

“Gentleman, are we continuing then?” The dealer cuts in.

Desmond looks to the dealer, then nods. “Fine… but you’ll regret it.” 

Another round begins as two cards to each player is dealed. Finally, as the dealer lays down five cards, Arthur wins with an ace-high diamond flush. 

“Goddamn you!” Desmond bellows as he bangs on the table.

Trelawny meanders over to Arthur’s side. “Now, what luck we have here!” He laughs heartily. “Now now, there’s no need for the hysterics!” Trelawny is theatrical as he places both hands on his waist, turning to look at you in the take. “Now how are we going to transport it? Hmm…”

“There’s something I don’t like about the pair of you…” Desmond accuses with an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“No need to be a sore loser.” Arthur gestures to your tank. “Now how about you send some of your boys so we can drag that big tub of water out of here.”

Without warning, Desmond brandishes a gun hiding in his coat, and points the barrel at Arthur. You cry out in the water, banging on the glass.

“You’re not taking it! I bought that thing with my own money, fair and square. Unlike you!” 

Arthur raises his hands in the air, but he stays calm.

“Going against your word now, Mr Blythe?”

“You cheated, I know it!”

A beat passes before you notice a man in uniform turns and shoots his fellow guard with his repeater and tosses it to Arthur. Absolute mayhem ensues as screams break out. Gunshots began to ring throughout the room, their bullets finding any target without discrimination, including you.

A bullet finds its way to the edge of your tank, creating a crack in the glass that eventually weaves its way through the surface, finally collapsing under pressure. Water floods out, and you with it, as you tumble out of your cage. 

You crash onto the ground, your tail now feeling heavier with it out of water. Arthur looks to you from behind an overturned table for cover, and he shouts your name. 

Before you knew it, another bullet clips your tail, causing you to yelp in pain. At the sound of it, Arthur rushes to your side despite the hail of gunfire. One of your iridescent scales is chipped off of your tail as it clatters to the ground. 

“Are you alright—” but both you and Arthur are left shell shocked at your tail now dividing into two, as if it was held together by glassy webbing. Your scales began to dissolve into your skin until you were left with two human legs, with a bleeding red wound the size of your scale left behind on your new calf.

Your eyes darted to Arthur’s helplessly, frightened and clueless as to what was happening to you. He was also witnessing your transformation in open-mouthed awe. Your mouth opened in a silent cry as you pointed to your scale left on the ground, begging him to grab it. You weren’t exactly sure, but you knew you would need it if you were ever to change back. 

Arthur gathers his wits and runs to nab the scale. He returns to you, but he’s unsure of what to do next.

“Can… can you stand?” 

You try to lift yourself up, but the unfamiliar sensation of gravity weighs on you. You shake your head desperately.

“I’ll carry you.” He moves to hook his arm underneath your knees and your back. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

You nodded fervently, placing all of your trust in him. 

“Fellas!” He calls out to Trelawny, Javier, and Strauss in the chaos. “We’re gettin’ out of here!”

Javier, the man in the uniform that shot first you realized, waved Arthur over to the door that exits out onto the edge of the boat. “Over here!”

Arthur holds you tightly to him as he and his men rush outside. 

“Arthur, the hell are we taking that thing for?” Javier is incredulous. “And why all of a sudden it has legs?”

“I too, would like to know the reason why we’re taking the creature with us.” Trelawny chimes in.

You tuck your head firmly into the crook of Arthur’s neck, breathing in his scent to steady your heart essentially jackhammering in your chest. He tightens his hold on you in reassurance. 

“Just shut the hell up, and let’s get on out of here, got it?” 

No one argues with that. Everyone gathers at the edge of the riverboat’s opening, preparing to jump off.

“W-what about the alligators?” Strauss stutters.

“Just jump!” Javier and Trelawny dive into the waters. Strauss pushes up his glasses and has no choice but to follow soon after.

You and Arthur are the last ones, but he tilts his head down to you, entreating you to look him in the eyes. 

“I reckon you can’t swim with those new legs of yours. So you’ll have to hold on tight to me, just like you are now. I’ll carry us both to shore, you hear?”

You looked up at him, worry clear in your expression, but you nod nonetheless.

“Good girl.” Arthur kisses your forehead before he jumps in the water with you.

[cellarspider]

Star Wars: The Old Republic, and the Return of the Weirdest Guy

I've done a couple of tounge-in-cheek analyses of SWTOR backstory recently, and frankly, it was mostly an exercise in nostalgia: finding old drawers in my brain full of dusty old factoids, and dumping them out into essay-shaped monstrosities. Bioware released SWTOR on the 20th of December, 2011. There are kids who were born that day who'll be entering 8th grade this year. There was only one version of Skyrim when it came out, and it was only just over a month old!

SWTOR's development team has since been rehomed at Broadsword Online Games, which has meant a reduced budget while allowing the lights to stay on, and story updates to slowly continue. I've been content to keep splashing around in the base game, vaguely planning on getting a character or two through to the current storylines, but never actually getting there.

And then Star Wars: Celebration happened last week, and I am now forced to consider the unthinkable: getting my ass in gear and playing the new stuff, because I saw this.

This appears to be Darth Jadus. It's been thirteen real, actual years since he was last seen. Follow me below the fold, and find out why I'm obsessed with this man who once faked his death to get out of attending work meetings, and because his coworkers weren't reading his manifesto.

Content warnings before we begin: much as I love Jadus as a villain, he is a villain. He's a cult leader and he's in the running for Worst Dad of SWTOR, which is saying something when his competition includes a guy who had 1,300 years of practice to perfect being a really terrible dad.

Note that there will be additional jokes and analyses in the image alt text, which is where wild tangents build their nests.

Spoilers for the entirely of the Agent plotline, Act 3 of the Jedi Knight plotline, and various moments throughout the expansions. Assume Wookieepedia links contain unmarked spoilers for literally everything. I'll be covering the context of Jadus among the Sith, his plotline, some of my own speculations as to his motivation, and how things may go, now that this SWTOR cryptid is crawling out of the ductwork to be spooky in person once again.

Just to give you the flavor of this guy, I'll sum up his plot as succinctly as I can, right at the top: Jadus anonymously funds and arms a terrorist group and sends them to attack himself, seemingly dying in an extremely extra fashion. He's also outfitted them with undetectable biomechanical death satellites, and while those are finishing up their unholy maturation, he's taking a vacation to drive two hundred of his followers face-meltingly insane. His daughter will keep anyone from noticing this by being such a galaxy-class disaster that Jadus can just hang out for a few months.

He plans to return from the dead on the day the superweapon satellites are unleashed, taking control of then to wipe out the terrorists and simultaneously destroy his rivals' power bases, forcing them to acknowledge him and his horrible invisible space-laser children. He will then lead the Empire in whatever weird direction he feels like, while making sure not to piss off the immortal, eldritch Sith Emperor too much.

If he's allowed to win, he'll give the Sith Empire a light dusting of eldritch cult vibes before he realizes the game has entered Act 3: as an ambitious secondary villain, he's a prime target for the role of "gets killed by the end boss to show how serious the situation is". He evades this fate by simply leaving the game entirely. He then proceeds to lurk for thirteen real life years, and twenty-three Star Wars ones, before showing up to jumpscare the galaxy again. If that's actually him, we don't have it totally 100% confirmed yet. It could just be someone with a similar taste for being gigantic and wearing that one mask.

I intend to describe the hows, whys, and WHY?!?s of Jadus in a tasteful yet unhinged essay below.

So.

Let's take a moment and step back, to look at what made the Sith into compelling villains in the first place: Darth Vader. Growing up with the original movies, there was barely any detail about him, just electrifying little glimpses of a deeply scarred body and mind beneath the mask.

Really, when you set aside everything else that's come after, what do the originals tell you? I mean, in the original movie, "Darth" was clearly intended to be Vader's first name, and by the end of the trilogy nobody actually knew what a Sith was, or why Vader was Dark Lord of them. There was almost a timeline where the Sith ended up as little lizard assassin commando guys that thought Vader was a really cool dude.

What made Vader special was the experience of witnessing him on screen, brought to life by the physical performance of David Prowse, and the vocals of James Earl Jones.

The two of them combined created a performance with a gravitas that has yet to be matched by anyone else who's put on the suit or done the voice. There's a subtlety to the body language of Prowse and the restraint Jones employs in creating the image of Vader.

And let's be clear, Vader is still the untouchable standard, and attempts to recreate him are doomed to fail. But what about making something new and transfixing in other ways? Well, SWTOR has been quite good at that.

The core of SWTOR, anyway.

The voices and designwork do, anyway.

SWTOR is a Bioware game, and back in this era, that meant one thing: characters moving and gesturing in ways no human would ever attempt, unless they were imitating a malfunctioning animatronic.

These are stock animations that they'd used for years, and they're a cost-saving measure. Each game, storyline, and scene has an animation budget. That's because building a moving piece of art is hard, and doing so inside a computer means you either have to build literally everything from scratch, or you reuse assets that are already available. SWTOR is a game with literal thousands of voiced characters, in a new setting they couldn't reuse art assets for. Writing for the game began in 2006, while the first Mass Effect and Dragon Age games were also in development. There was no way you were getting custom animations outside of key scenes.

And so that leaves you with a good old Bioware tradition: what's your favorite stock animation? The ones I'm most fond of are "person exits a conversation by calmly taking two steps backwards before turning around, like they're a car pulling out of a parking spot", or "person kind of spins both their hands around in front of them, like they're at a loss for words on how to describe watching their buddy walk like an automobile".

So, those are the ground rules for experiencing a Bioware game of this era: everybody looks like a dork in the in-game cutscenes, but the voices and writing carry the day, so eventually you tune out the wiggles. If a character's really lucky, they'd get actual cinematics. If they're Darth Malgus, this is so he can get repeatedly kicked in the face and still look cool doing it.

[Video Description: The Disorder cinematic trailer, in which Malgus forces a Jedi padawan to confront how her master made the choice to abandon her brother, leaving him to an unknown fate. I've shown this before in other essays, and damn it, I'll show it again. This shit is fantastic. Malgus is in fine form, in terms of combat, manipulative villain behavior, and getting smacked into walls. You have no idea how often that happens to him. It appears to be one of his hobbies at this point.]

Malgus is the closest SWTOR strays to Vader, and the main point of comparison for all other Sith in the game. Voiced by Jamie Glover, he's a seething menace who's maintained a strong presence throughout much of the game's thirteen year run. He rebels against the Sith orthodoxy, making a play to rule them, and eventually rejects them entirely. He's even taken on more of the Vader cybernetics over time, as his life of conflict has broken more and more of his body, while leaving his mind intact. His vocal performance is very distinct, but in tone is probably closest to Vader's early portrayal in A New Hope: more open malice and contempt.

And if you're lured into the supplementary material like tie-in novels and such, you get his whole backstory, and it really doesn't improve things. You don't need to know who he was, or hear his inner monologue. His outer monologue gives you what you want without ruining the mystique.

Then there's the Sith Emperor himself, whose transcendent evil is brought to life by the voice of Doug Bradley, an actor best known for his lead antagonist role in the Hellraiser series. I'll admit I've only ever personally heard the Emperor in full form once, due to my meandering path through the game. But when I did? Every ridiculous thing about the game fell away, because his restrained performance carried the moment so well.

And when expansions and books start explaining more of what his deal is, it's often subtractive to his menace. Thanks in no small part to how much of that is tied up in Revan, a figure beloved by fans in Ye Olden Times, whose SWTOR-era canon is more of a "we don't talk about him" kind of affair. If you want the blow-by-blow, just check out the fifty-thousand word Wookieepedia page for Revan and feel your soul slowly shrivel up over the course of an hour or so.

But when you meet the Emperor again after Revan's dead, now manifesting in another body and with a different voice, you might hear him refer to Darth Jadus as "the finest Sith my empire ever produced."

And when you encounter Jadus, should you make the very good decision to try the Imperial Agent plotline, you might see why the Emperor thought that.

Darth Jadus is voiced by Stephen Rashbrook, who's mostly done narration and voiceover for documentaries. I'd guess that the most popular things he's been in have been this game, and the Black Mirror episode Bandersnatch, where he also does narration for something. The only credit that made me sit up and say "Oh shit! He was in that?" was the PBS/Channel 4 documentary series Secrets of the Dead, which careens between sensational goofiness and actually some of the best damn portrayals of archaeology on TV.

[Video Description: Season 2, Episode 2 of Secrets of the Dead, featuring Stephen Rashbrook's narration about a skeleton found near Stonehenge. For those who haven't heard his voice before, this is your baseline that will make things even weirder in a minute. If you do know Jadus already, this itself feels weird as hell. I keep waiting for him to wander off into a sermon on the spiritual benefits of existential terror. It's quite good at digging into the details and techniques used in archaeology, circa 2000. There's a few bits eyebrow-raising bits in the narration, But this particular skeleton has not been reexamined since this same analysis, fitting with theories still accepted today. Also, fun bonus fact in these papers: the previous carbon dating they mention in the documentary was paid for by a dentist who thought the skeleton was King Arthur's. /Description]

I've no idea if Rashbrook will be returning to the role for this surprise return, but he contributes a lot to making Jadus a transfixingly strange figure among the Sith. As with Doug Bradley, restraint is the key element, which wanders between menace and ardent, trance-like conviction.

And sometimes he says just the strangest, most unhinged things you've ever heard.

[Video Description: From YT user Armored Productions. The second time you encounter Jadus, wherein he basically opens with a Dark Side tone poem, reveals the outline of his entire secret plan in such a cheeky way that it just sounds like the worst salvia trip in the universe, mentions his flagship is named the Dominator, and then cranks up the BDSM vibes to maximum by ordering you to kneel for some sort of ritual purposes. And no, that last bit is never explained. We don't know why he wants you to kneel, or if it was supposed to change something in you. What I do know is that if you refuse to kneel, he gives you a chance to change your mind. If you remain defiant, he hits you with so much Force lightning that the game kicks you out to the menu that asks "you got your ass kicked, do you want to revive here or slink back to the nearest med center?". As far as I can recall, this is the only cutscene that can do this. Jadus hits you so hard you stop being cinematics and start being game mechanics. /Description]

And here's where I let up on the (slightly) serious tone. Because I love this performance dearly, but wow. Wow. He really just says all those things, doesn't he.

"I believe in the democratization of fear," the giant space-gimp tells you, and you believe he believes that, whatever the ass that means.

Because at that point, you really don't know. He's not slowing down to explain this to you, because you are, as far as he's concerned, unimportant. He's not yet aware that you're the main character of the plot line. No, really, I'm only barely joking. He figures it out eventually, but at the moment he's got something else on his mind: screwing over his coworkers.

As I previously described, the Sith Empire largely runs under the control of twelve unhinged cybergoths known as the Dark Council: turnover is often quick and violent, as rival lords vie for Council seats. Those that survive longer than a few years are uniformly the most powerful and canny among the Sith. They are the most competent at foiling their rivals, maintaining their influence, and administering their respective spheres of influence that underpin an interstellar Empire.

And most of them hate at least one part of that job description, and are constantly scheming on how to undermine the others so they can be left alone to do the parts they actually want to do. How dare everyone else make this difficult for them. How dare Darth Vowrawn be having a good time doing all of this.

Darth Jadus, when the story begins, is one of these Dark Councilors, and he doesn't hate it as much as the rest. He hates it more. He hates it weirder. And despite never engaging in the weekly backstabbery of the Council, the rest all know he's got something long-term cooking. It's just that nobody's been able to figure out what it is. They are correct, but nobody seemed to realize how seriously he was committed to sparkle motion.

I already previewed his invisible biomechanical laser satellites at the top, but withheld any of his reasons for doing that. So... why is he doing that?

Jadus has gotten fed up with the Dark Council, and with Sith in general. For years, he's been something of an outcast among them for radical ideas like "aliens and slaves are also people" and "Sith aren't the specialest little critters in the universe" and "we should stop fighting each other all the time", and the actual radical ideas like "everyone regardless of circumstance or ability should experience the benefits of the Dark Side, such as its limitless abyss of hatred and terror".

Yes, this man is a socialist, but specifically for the redistribution of bad vibes.

So far, his attempts to convince other Sith have been a failure, but he's done surprisingly well among certain parts of the general public. He runs Imperial Intelligence, which is the only part of the government where aliens can find employment, and Force-blind people can rise to the top ranks.

In fact, all of Jadus' personal advisors are Force-blind. He's completely purged both Intelligence and his retinue of Sith. He's known to select slaves and aliens for special roles, specifically because everyone else has overlooked their potential for their entire lives—their loyalty will be uncompromised. He's deeply involved in the affairs of Imperial Intelligence, on a level that other Sith don't usually engage.

And so nobody really notices when he has the Imperial Science Bureau try and implement a funky new technoorganic design, especially when it was quietly shut down because they wouldn't be efficient for the war effort. Did Jadus make any copies of their data? Don't worry about it! Worry about what else Jadus might be doing.

Because over the years, his philosophy and absolutely awful personal vibes have created a literal cult following for him. While that's not unheard of for Sith, Jadus takes it to a higher level. He probably has several manifestos published by this point.

And so nobody really thinks twice when Jadus declares he's going to take a thousand of his followers away on his flagship, spreading his philosophy across the Empire. That's normal Jadus stuff.

If you're me, you'll be sitting there hung up on the fact that his flagship is named the Dominator, because the BDSM vibes are hilariously unsubtle.

What none of them know at this point is that Jadus has packed the Dominator full of explosives, which the player character's starter missions actually were responsible for securing. But we're talking about destroying a massive ship here, surely someone suspected help from the inside?

Well, with how utterly awful Jadus was to be around, nobody who knew him really found it odd that a well-connected, traditionalist, isolationist terrorist group would try to blow him up. Jadus himself says they have aid from within the government. Hilariously, I'm not sure if anyone asked him who, because the answer is him.

But in their defense, everyone in Intelligence was kept distracted because Jadus made the utterly unhinged demand that placed the defense of the capital city's power grid in the hands of the player character, a newbie who hasn't even gotten a cool codename yet.

So when the Dominator blows up with Jadus on board, that's surprising, it means the terrorists are an imminent threat to the Empire, but really, what's so bad about getting rid of Jadus?

Enter Darth Zhorrid, his daughter, sole apprentice and heir, and oh boy she's already electrocuting people

We don't know who's to blame for Zhorrid's zhorrible name—it could be Jadus, it could be one she chose for herself. But we know Jadus is the one responsible for why she's Like This. Or rather, we learn, during what's frankly one of the most distressing scenes in the Agent plotline, which is saying something.

[Video Description: A video I took of Zhorrid's last scene before you enter Act 1's endgame, and content warning. Content warning. She's not in a good way, mostly because of a lifetime of mental health problems brought on by Jadus. Skip it if you need to, it's summarized below. /Description]

Jadus used some literally operatic cruelty to break Zhorrid's mind, but the results evidently weren't what he wanted—when she became irrationally destructive and impulsive as a result, he essentially abandoned her. She mentions that he was always ruthless with himself, identifying and attempting to eliminate his own faults whenever he failed at something. That included Zhorrid herself.

When she takes over her father's Dark Council seat, she's an unprepared mess, and she knows it. She can't keep a hold of Jadus' resources, which the rest of the Council are quick to start stealing from her. To Imperial Intelligence, her top priority is to find out who killed her father, because she wanted to do it first.

Jadus, meanwhile, used his own monstrous strength in the Force to not be incinerated in the destruction of the Dominator. In fact, he held together a large enough portion of the ship that two hundred people were saved with him, covertly transported to another capital ship running silent in deep space.

And because breaking people isn't just something you do with family, Jadus spends the next couple of months driving them all insane.

It's no wonder that years later, when an ancient, eldritch Sith collective encounters the Agent player character, they attempt to recruit the agent on the sole basis of "you were once in the vicinity of Darth Jadus, and we like his vibes."

With Zhorrid's flameout keeping the Council and Intelligence distracted, Jadus's terrorist underlings—who are still pretty sure they actually did kill him—can continue production of these cool technoorganic death satellites he gave them the plans for ages ago. Pay no attention to the fact that this sort of merging of machine and unnatural flesh is usually an ancient Dark Side thing! Everything seems to be going great, and hey what's that player character-shaped person doing over there

The agent, now sporting the very cool codename Cipher Nine, manages to take out a big chunk of the terrorist group's organizational structure, and steal half of the control codes for the death satellites. Jadus didn't see this coming, but he has a solution: bring them to his horrorfest vacation spot and offer them a promotion.

And here's where he starts to start getting uncomfortably close to the fourth wall: Jadus basically states that he didn't realize Cipher Nine was important before, but he won't make that mistake again. Come be his herald. The Hand of Jadus, which is a very cool title for Star Wars folks of a particular age, because it makes you feel like Mara Jade. Give him the command codes, and he'll functionally take over the Empire, and overturn the old Blood Purity laws that kept aliens and slaves from becoming citizens, and also he'll improve their spiritual lives by beginning an 'Epoch of Terror'—

[Video Description: A Cthulhu Mythos parody Christmas carol, "Joy To The World" replaced with "Death To The World, Cthulhu's come. Let Earth! Abhor! This thiiiing!". I don't get to pull these out very often, so here's my excuse. Let me tell you, there are carols that I cannot get through without accidentally falling into singing these instead. "God rest ye merry gentlemen, let everything dismay, remember Great Cthulhu shall rise up from R'lyeh—" /Description]

One of the most delightfully maddening things about Jadus as a character is that he mixes perfectly reasonable and even laudable ideas with pure eldritch nonsense. If Cthulhu were about to rise from the depths of R'lyeh, to awaken the Great Old Ones and drive the world mad under the crushing weight of their very existence, Jadus would be messing with labor laws so everyone could take time off work for the holiday.

At this point, the player has a choice. One of the most impactful in the entire game, actually: Do you let him win? Because you can actually take this deal. Maybe your character believes the Empire is so moribund that it needs to be pushed into collapse. May they've been pushed to madness themself by what they've experienced to get there. Maybe they earnestly believe Jadus's mix of structural reform and transcendental religion is good and necessary. You can give him the control codes, and allow him to ascend to even greater power, upon a tide of destruction that shall henceforth be known as Eradication Day.

Or you could not do that. I'll get back around to the above option in a second, but, y'know, most people who aren't me probably don't say "I like your vibe, let's see where this goes." This is a madman. Even if your character believes the Empire needs change, does it need him? Probably not! You've seen what he did to his daughter, and to the survivors of the two hundred he brought with him for his Deluxe Event Horizon Experience. They're not doing so great.

But how to deal with him? Jadus is generally acknowledged as the second most powerful Sith in the Empire, after the Emperor himself. The Emperor is, essentially, a god. Your character is a covert operative with a cool spaceship and some James Bond gadgets.

And because the game's power balance has been altered so completely over its long life, allowing players to just focus on the story if they so choose, you can pretty easily win his boss fight. Welp.

[Video Description: From YT user FemaleKay IsBest, beginning at the decision point and skips over the boss fight because really it's perfunctory anyway. I always find it somewhere between funny and unnerving, how quickly Jadus goes from audibly pissed off to calmly biding his time while he waits for his chance to escape. He's still angry enough to bite someone if he had the mask off, but he's devastatingly practical for a mandman. /Description]

In story though, you don't kill him. A fleet's on the way to back you up, you just distract him long enough to trap him in a place where he can't escape their bombardment. If it actually happened. Because at that point, Jadus surrenders.

Huh. So he's still alive. Headed for execution at the hands of the other Sith, but that's the last you hear. They never actually confirm if they killed him or not.

Or, alternatively, you can give him the command codes to distract him, then sabotage the ship, rigging it to explode. Jadus escapes, but without the command codes—he can't maintain control of his superweapon deterrent against his foes. Again, that's the last you hear of him.

Or or, extra-alternatively, you can simply convince Jadus that he's lost. No really! You can give him a full tactical assessment of his situation, how you've got all the angles covered, and shoot down his counter-arguments. He'll push you hard. He'll actually start to sound angry, the first and last strong emotion he'll ever show you.

And then he just calms down and declares that you've won, and he's leaving now. He hates you, but respects you.

[Video description: From YT user Invisible Shadow, talking Jadus into giving up. You can skip a few bossfights in the game by talking your way around them, but this ends an entire third of the game. I've never done this route, but I won't deny, it is extremely satisfying to watch. /Description]

Everyone is left wondering what in the fine flying fuck just happened.

No matter what you do, Jadus survives, something that many players actually missed—if they chose the most bog-standard, videogame-y path, they assumed he died off-screen. I've seen some of them actually misremember killing him personally. Nope! His survival was implied from day one, it was teased a bit in the expansions, but now it's been (pretty much) confirmed: Jadus is alive, like the biggest, most unkillable cockroach in the galaxy. Good for him! And gooder for him, if you let him win.

[Video Description: From YT user xLetalis, featuring their Agent joining Darth Jadus. Content warning again, because you do get a boss fight in this version: it's Zhorrid. Other decisions end with her dead offscreen, but in this one, Jadus orders you to go kill her. Again, worst dad of the game. /Description]

Because this isn't an empty choice. SWTOR is limited in how much it can show differences visually, because unlike later titles such as Elder Scrolls Online, it can't do visual alterations to game maps shared with other characters. What it can do is alter dialog, and quite a lot of characters have something to say about the new regime, and your place in it.

And off in special little instanced corners of the game, you can actually get special scenes that nobody else does. This is where Jadus lurks. What's he doing? Stuff.

No really, we don't actually hear much about his overarching plans. There's cult rituals going on in the streets, he's successfully traumatized an entire Empire, but he's not derailing the overarching plot of the game, because he's made a strategic decision: he can't fight the Emperor. That would be suicide. And the Emperor wants a war with the Republic and the Jedi for some reason, so Jadus won't stop that. If it was up to him? Doesn't seem like it would happen! Jadus never actually mentions the Jedi. He only makes passing mention of the Republic.

Let's note that at this point in Star Wars as a piece of fiction, the one thing the Sith had always been so down for was destroying the Jedi and toppling the Republic. The fact that Jadus manifestly did not give a shit about either is part of what made him so strange.

What he does care about is why the Emperor is doing this. While most of the Agent plot proceeds as normal through its second act, you do receive an order partway through: steal encrypted data from the Emperor's guards. Help Jadus determine the Emperor's plans.

And at the start of Act Three, Jadus declares that he's discovered what the Emperor's doing. He also declares that he's leaving the game.

[Video Description: from YT user The Youtube Acolyte, playing as an Agent named Thrauw'n because everyone who plays Chiss, including myself, has a crush on Thrawn. Anyway--Man just fuckin! Leaves! Absolute skeleton meme behavior. Also, Jadus can mention here "I see the shape of the galaxy as only five others can", which is a line that is NEVER explained. His closest philosophical match is found in the Dread Masters, but there's six of them. Candidates I've seen include the Emperor, Lord Scourge, Revan, Kreia, the Exile, the Jedi Knight and Consular player characters, Darth Malgus, Darth Acina, the Shroud, the First Son, and the list goes on because nobody is even sure what Jadus MEANS here about 'the shape of the galaxy'. Do I think this line will be followed up on? Absolutely not! I firmly believe it will continue to stand as a goddamn mystery. Tune back in after his storyline updates to find out if Jadus decided to mess with me specifically. /Description]

No, really. Jadus just abandons the Empire and leaves. Sure, he leaves you with enhanced authority, though he cautions you that it does paint a massive target on your back, and gives you his blessing to continue trying to unravel a massive conspiracy—possibly because he's realized the conspirators could accidentally help trigger the end of all life in the galaxy. Whoops.

Because what Jadus doesn't actually tell you is what the Emperor is up to. The Emperor is working on a ritual that makes use of death on a massive scale to trigger a chain reaction that will kill everything and feed its life force into himself, becoming a truly transcendent and eternal being. In fact, if you're playing the Agent plot, you never get explicitly told about this. You just show up to work one day and the rest of the Sith have collectively declared Fuck That and no longer acknowledge the Emperor's authority.

Why didn't Jadus reveal this? Well, he's not exactly popular among the Sith, given how he's a weird nerd who has orbital death lasers pointed at their house. They probably wouldn't believe him. His dialog also gives off the hilarious vibe that he knows this is the start of Act Three and that he's a second-tier villain, this is the point at which the plot would traditionally kill him off to show how serious the situation is. He's not a fan of that, so he elects to go find somewhere sufficiently off-screen that the plot can't touch him. This maniac is somehow the most genre-savvy villain in the game.

Also, he does make the very concerning comment that "whether [the Emperor] succeeds or fails, I grow stronger." I have no idea if he's lying or not, but most of his dialog is at least his truth to some extent or another. Does he believe he could hijack the ritual as a last resort? Maybe! Who knows! No matter what you as the player have done up until this point, Jadus has reacted in whatever way he thinks will ensure maximum success and his own survival. He obviously wasn't planning on just dying in the Emperor's ritual, so he had something he was working on to avoid that.

We never find out what that might be. Frankly, I'm not sure the writers truly knew what that was, because they didn't need to. His arc was done, and he could leave just as strangely as he'd done everything in the first place.

And that was the end of Jadus for a very long time. In the first few expansions, you could continue to invoke your title as the Hand of Jadus, if that was the path you chose. After that, the plot folded together in a way that smoothed out the differences between player characters in many ways. Oh, sure, people with history with you will react differently. If you're playing an Agent, you alone can continue to hang out with one of your former companions: a nice young man who's packed full of ants, who's possibly your lover and is good friends with a secret agent doctor were-zombie.

I really will have to ramble about the Agent companions at some point.

But one thing that was consistent for everybody: when an extremely weird crisis strikes the galaxy, one of the people considered as a culprit is Darth Jadus.

For those who haven't played the Agent plot, this is a "Who?" moment. He never appears in any other plotline. He is only the sleep paralysis demon of folks at Imperial Intelligence, in part because his potential plot ramifications are too large to account for. Canon probably defaults to him failing in his takeover, but most Dark Side-aligned player plots make all the Dark Side choices canon, and it's hard to get Dark Side-ier than allowing tens of thousands to die so that "all people will revel in fear and degradation. These prizes will no longer be hoarded by Sith."

I cannot stress enough how unhinged this man's goals are.

[Video Description: The new trailer, which gives us the one glimpse we have of New and Improved Jadus so far. Fun fact, Malgus is 77 and Jadus is 65 here, because the Sith are just inherently incapable of retiring from their shenanigans, ever. Vowrawn is 93 at this point and entirely powered by shenanigans alone. I was mixed on Jadus's new look, until a friend pointed out he looks like some sort of emerging plant, and I realized the collar reminded me a bit of a Rafflesia. Parasitic, grows to titanic proportions, and smells like rotting meat. So I've come around on it, obviously. Malgus' voiceover is cut to be vaguing about "corrupt doctrines" in regards to Jadus, which I find hilarious. He did technically embezzle Imperial funds to research his superweapons, but the rest of that was all outsourced. Unless we're talking about "corruption" in terms of "messing with people's brains", in which case, yes. He do be out there, corrupting the minds of the youth. And everybody who isn't youth. Possibly even some rocks, if they're smart enough. /Description]

So, that's where we are at this point. I have no idea how things will go from here. My hope is that Jadus will return as the highly strategic, transcendental weirdo he always was before. It's actually been fun having him just out there somewhere, because it's meant the mystique couldn't be messed with. I'd actually accept it if they brought him back to kill him, but ideally if it happened in such a baffling fashion that you're left uncertain if he intended for that to happen.

But before the game potentially expands on him and his motivations, I want to get out a couple of my own interpretation of what we've seen: Jadus is unique among the Sith. Among the Empire. And he is not yet perfect. And he wants both to change.

Something happened in his past that pushed him deep into the Dark Side, something that broke his world apart and reformed it into something new. Since then, he's tried and failed to explain it to others. He doesn't have a perfect understanding of what happened to him, how to lead others to the same state, or how to push himself further. As a result, he tried to raise his daughter in such a way to induce the same revelations he experienced, and failed. That failure took years, and he couldn't afford such a costly loss again.

So instead of the personal, controlled approach, he would mass-produce the shattering of minds. The whole point of the drama and wanton destruction of his plan was to traumatize billions, trading precision for sheer quantity. The vast majority would fail, becoming fuel for his continued growth in power. But surely, someone would react as he had.

This obviously isn't a selfless enterprise on his part. He is a ruthlessly practical lunatic, and when he reaches the limits of his capability, he abandons the project. We don't know if he succeeded in what he wanted from his takeover. We don't actually know if he took anyone with him when he left. He made it clear that his Hand would not follow him where he was going, though we know some in Intelligence kept sending him reports that received no reply, and we have some potential indication that he was still actively monitoring his Hand's activities. Which at that point mostly involved getting the stuffing knocked out of them by the entire galaxy all at once, which Jadus probably considered character-building.

Do I have any idea whether these are intended reads on the character? No. I'm not privy to the authorial decisions made during the writing of Mr. Darth "Under my rule, all people will revel in fear and degradation" Jadus. I don't know if the original intent will be preserved either, thirteen years down the road.

But man. Man. What a transfixingly weird guy they've created here. Jadus is memorable because he twists so much of what we've come to expect from Sith into something different, with enough left unexplained to keep you wondering. Or at least, keep me wondering. Let's be real, Jadus as a villain probably appeals most to a very specific subset of people with goth tendencies and spicy brains, who look at HP Lovecraft and think "what if these cosmic horrors were more inclusive in the worst way possible?"

I'm glad to see him back. I'm afraid of what might happen with him. He's poised to drive me insane, no matter what happens. And that's precisely how he'd prefer it.

[allgoldenelite]

Ibushi as a guest on Aoki Shinya's channel translation/summary

Another day, another YouTube video with the Golden Star. Like the Nagata one, this is a written summary of the two videos he appeared in recently on Aoki's channel. The videos bring across a carefree mood and there's lots of laughing from all parties involved, which was nice to see.

Consider checking out the videos here and here and leave a like.

Part 1

(Some parts may be trunctuated or moved around in the chronology in the interest of readability)

The videos were filmed on 4/1. Ibushi says he is in the middle of getting his visa, and when he has it he will wrestle in AEW in May if everything goes well. Aoki is like "Oh really?" and from there it goes into talks about how Ibushi, after quitting New Japan, has done all these unexpected things, so the implication is it's difficult to determine what he's doing next. But he says he has his proper reasons for everything he's done so far.

Aoki mentions Ibushi appearing in GLEAT and DDT as examples, and Ibushi says something that's all censored (I assume this is about the DDT drama). Aoki is like "We can't air that" and Ibushi is like "I don't know what goes and what doesn't go. I'm a pro wrestler, I don't know what goes or not." Aoki mentions that lately, whenever wrestlers say something that they probably didn't put that much thought into, the people listening to that (fans etc) read too much into it. Ibushi says he's the straightforward/blunt type who mostly says what he thinks/feels at that moment.

Aoki says compared when he met him at GLEAT, Ibushi seems to be in really good form, and Ibushi says he feels very good. They talk about his prior addiction to a type of takoyaki dish that helped bring him up to 106 kg (the other factor being his ankles being in bad shape), and he says he even ate it so much he got sick at one point cause it was all he was eating. Imanari (behind the camera) mentions Ibushi isn't picky when it comes to food, and Ibushi goes on to explain that whenever he finds something tasty he just eats that ad nauseum. Eventually he stopped because he was like, "If I don't, my life is over" (Imanari laughs loudly at that). Jokes around that he was suffering "from the side effects of the tako dish" when him and Aoki met at GLEAT, so he wasn't really himself. But he did feel really out of shape, short of breath and like he wanted to lie down after every move (mind you, he also had a fever at the time).

(I'm leaving out some stuff about the IPWRI and the various people associated with it here, it's mostly things people would already know about from other videos and appearances)

They talk about how other people will say Ibushi is beat up as hell and weird in the head because of (all the crazy bumps he's taken), but he personally doesn't feel like he's beat up at all. "I'm completely fine" (cue laughter from Imanari and Aoki). Aoki: "You're not punch drunk*?" Ibushi: "I don't think so. Do you think I am?" Imanari: "I think so." Ibushi: "No, I'm not, not all!" (laughter from Imanari and Aoki).

Aoki mentions that he's not sure where the performance of being punch drunk ends and where the real "punch drunkenness" begins, and asks if Ibushi ever forgets stuff. Ibushi says he does, but he thinks it's from ADHD, and that he has "some developmental disorder-ish things going on". I'm not sure how much of this is tongue-in-cheek because of the reactions of Aoki and Imanari and the general joking around atmosphere of the whole video. Take it with a huge grain of salt (this goes to the content scrapers who like to go through my work and reprint it verbatim).

They next talk about how they first met, which was in 2016 at a IGF show. Aoki asks what a match or promotion or whatever is that really made an impression on Ibushi, and he mentions FU★CK, which is a super tiny indie where fans could tell the wrestlers what moves to do (there would only be about 15 fans present).

After some talk about Sawada vs Fujita, Ibushi mentions how he kind of went wild after matches in the locker rooms in Japan America, like when he was at GCW (like play-wrestling around in the locker rooms so much that the other guy was like "Okay, hold on a sec").

Ibushi meant to say this as soon as he met up with Aoki, but he congratulates him for winning at ONE 172 (a combat sports event), and they talk a bit about how when you're older, the exhaustion/wear and tear just never goes away (they're about the same age). Aoki says that goes for both wrestling and MMA, but after a hard match you just continue feeling it for weeks, and Ibushi agrees, that you keep feeling the sore muscles and such from when you take bumps. Ibushi wonders how Takagi Shingo is still so spry, then. Says he never stops talking, not even in the locker room (after a match). From his experience, Takagi's so lively that even younger wrestlers will be like, "Little less, please" (again, the atmosphere is jovial, so how much of this is earnest or not, who knows).

They talk about how when wrestlers or MMA fighters put normal people in moves, they get flamed online from time to time, and how Aoki thinks that in the wrestling business it seems really easy to get caught in a shitstorm, which he also attributes to the current idol culture trend. Imanari mentions that Ibushi once did a senton on a really young girl and she ended up breaking a rib from it. At first it sounds like it's something that happened a long time ago, but then he says he was 38 at the time, so fairly recently. Even Imanari thought it was something that happened in Ibushi's 20s. Cue laughter from everyone.

*aka CTE

Part 2

At the beginning of the second video, they talk about how Ibushi has never injured somebody else in a match. When it's him getting injured, he says that for the most part, he has a vague feeling before the match that something's out of place, like he can't visualize this move or that, and that's where the anxiety comes from and eventually the injury if things go badly.

They talk about how scary injuries are and that Ibushi (understandably) doesn't want to get injured anymore. He says there's not a place in his body anymore that wasn't at some point injured. Aoki mentions how crazy his matches in DDT and elsewhere were in the past, like the kind of moves he did such as the high-flying and the Phoenix Plex and such. Ibushi says he thinks he's only done the Phoenix Plex about 4 times (stopped doing it because it's too crazy).

The scariest match for Ibushi was vs Kenny at Budokan in 2012. He did the infamous balcony moonsault because he was told that he shouldn't, but he overthought it to where he thought he almost had to do it. He knew he shouldn't do it but Takagi had said that DDT wouldn't ever be able to come back to Budokan anyway, so he was like, "Might as well do it, it's the end anyway." But it was really incredibly high up. Aoki mentions the recklessness of wrestlers, and Ibushi says that for him at the time, he wanted to leave behind a legacy, so that motivated some of what he did. "It's ego."

Aoki says that to him, it seems like the kind of crazy wrestling Ibushi and co did for 10, 20 years inspired lots of people all around the world and then it kept getting too extreme. As he's mentioned in other places before, Ibushi says that after Budokan he sealed that dangerous style away. He felt like him and others had brought back the (dangerous) wrestling from the 90s and that it couldn't keep going like this so he stopped, but that Kenny kept doing it (I assume he means also in NJPW). Ibushi switched away from the Phoenix Splash to the Kamigoe as his main finisher, and through individual spots here or there kept up the illusion of being the crazy high-flyer from back in the day, but he had actually scaled it down dramatically.

They continue talking about the lasting influence of that old style, with Aoki mentioning that even nowadays people still wrestle like that, and that maybe people like Ibushi should say once more that it's really no good. Ibushi agrees and goes on to explain that he did show people in his matches that his style had changed, but the past is too strong of a presence in peoples' minds. They want that style from him. People say he's changed or washed and they don't understand him in the way that he thinks is good. Aoki says people say Ibushi is done, and Ibushi says "Yeah, they say I can't go anymore, I'm done. [...] But I've never really been swayed by other people." Aoki: "Even if people say you're done, as a creator, as a wrestler, you've still no doubt raised the quality, like, the degree of perfection of what you create, the matches and such. You can say that you have confidence in that yourself, right?" Ibushi: "Yes, I can. I'm confident that I can [still] win the Best Bout."

Aoki strongly relates and says that he's also been told his performance has fallen off and such, but in total he still has absolute confidence in what he creates. Ibushi: "I feel like now I'm wrestling by making full use of all the emotions [i.e. the story]."

Next, they talk about the news surrounding Ibushi's various injuries. Aoki mentions the ankle one from when he wrestled at NOAH, and how he thought that was cleverly crafted. He doubted for a while whether Ibushi had even really gotten the surgery for his ankle and just kayfabed it to stay in the news (needless to say, he did get surgery, but they're also lightly joking around here, so don't take Aoki's "accusations" too seriously). They agree being in the news is an advantage, and Ibushi says after that (NOAH show) he got the surgery and he started getting better and now the quality of his wrestling is higher, so it turned out for the better.

Ibushi says that people say they don't know what's real and what's fake (in regards to his character and wrestling and his real self and all that), but that he doesn't know either. He doesn't know where exactly the real Ibushi ends and the character begins, so it's more like he doesn't put on a performance in either role. Aoki can relate because the two also get mixed together for him. "You tend to think about what could be fun/interesting [for the fans] first and foremost."

Next, they talk a bit about AEW. Aoki: "Do you know yet who you're gonna wrestle in AEW?" Ibushi: "No. Depends on what Kenny is doing then. That'll be where I come in. But, it's crazy I'm not watching AEW. It's my where I work, you know? And yet I don't watch it." Imanari mentions that Ibushi doesn't really watch pro wrestling in general, though, and that he mostly watches MMA. Aoki asks what he finds so fascinating about MMA, and Ibushi says he finds everything interesting, the matches, what happens outside the matches, the commentary, etc. He loves it all.

They keep talking about MMA here which I will spare you from. It's not terribly interesting in the first place aside for combat sports freaks. Ibushi also talks once more about how the IPWRI is more like a loose group that anyone can join once he gives them the OK, rather than a concrete group or place or promotion, but he has already talked about that elsewhere so you're not missing much here either.

But yes, technically Imanari is "signed" to two promotions since he's part of the IPWRI (he is signed to Ganbare). Which brings Ibushi to talk about his experience with his double contract with DDT and NJPW. He thinks that being signed to more than one promotion will always end badly. It's what broke him apart back then.

It seems he went missing once (with the connotation that overworking himself for the two promotions caused him to flee). Most of it is censored and they "fast-forward" through them talking about 99% of it, but he ended up somewhere where he hadn't planned to go, and he doesn't remember most of it either. So then he became a freelancer and 3 days after the news broke he was contacted by WWE, he did his stint there in 2016 and then came back to NJPW (as Tiger Mask W for a time), eventually signing with them because his goal was to become IWGP Heavyweight champ. Once he got that, he broke down. And now he's signed with AEW.

They talk more about karma and how Ibushi, even though he enjoys his life and thinks it's fun, feels like he always breaks down if he gets away from wrestling. Imanari mentions that other people are sometimes incredulous why he has attached himself to a guy like Ibushi, but Imanari doesn't see it that way at all. Ibushi continues saying that it's weird how he wanted to quit everything and retire at one point, but somehow wrestling doesn't let him. Aoki can relate. He says whether it's MMA or pro wrestling, somehow you can never get away from it. Ibushi tells Aoki that he doesn't want him to quit. He also says that he takes wrestling seriously when he does it, but it's not something he (pursues) to the degree of a personal hobby anymore (like he did when he was younger).

Lastly, they talk about Aoki going to Bloodsport and he asks for tips for wrestling in the States, and Ibushi compliments Aoki on his style and thinks he'll be well received by the fans over there. They talk some more about MMA and GLEAT (they both like the latter a lot), and say both they want the other to keep going wild in wrestling/MMA, and then the video ends.

(As a sidenote, it seems the two videos were very well received by Aoki's subscribers, who were greatly amused by what he talked about and how he talked about it, and that Ibushi made himself some new fans)

[marsprincess889]

A little treat 💕 (some observations and information about Bharani as both the Sun and the Moon enter this nakshstra)

If you feel more serious and heavy now than during the last weeks, do not take it personally.

Name : "The Star of Bearing"

Yoni animal: Male Elephant 🐘(yoni consort_ Revati)

Symbols: the Yoni (female sexual organ), the boat, a cave (as reminiscent of the Yoni).

Planetary ruler: Venus ♀️

Sign: Aries🐏 🔥♈♂️(active Mars, Fire element)

Ruling deity: Yama_ God of death and dharma

Caste_ Outcast (Mleccha)

Nature_ Fierce (Ugra)

Element_ Earth

Gunas: Rajas- Rajas- Tamas

Purpose: Artha (material acquisition)

The themes of Bharani connect humans to the origins of their very existence. And as much philosophy and existential contemplation is embedded in Bharani natives, it's still very much a material nakshatra, grounding the essence/spark that was initiated through movement in Ashwini, making its potential and vision possible and real. It's in Aries_ the first sign, it deals with birth and self-definition, putting the soul into the body, the substance (masculine) into the form (feminine), and it rules over the authority of the feminine as she goes through her ebbs and flows and birthes life, as she absorbs and gives, as she commands the natural heirarchy just as the masculine forces find themselves helpless through all of it.

What do you want most in life? What do you think you came to live for? How do you achieve it? Can you achieve it? Does something else dictate your actions? Can you fight that something? Should you bow down to that something?

How do you get your way and live the life that you came to live? The theme here is pure, unbridled force and passion that meets fate, struggles against it and finds a way to achieve its desire, or not. Venus here is both the force of movement(masculine) and the force of restraint (feminine) as they fight and clash and come together and then birth life. Ultimately, as the masculine movement that was free in Ashwini meets the desire (Venus and Bharani), it also meets fear and with it the reverance for fate, for whatever higher power it recognizes, which is love_ what humans have no control over, and their lover.

I have to say though that Ashwini, in many ways, is similar to Bharani (both are Aries nakshatras, their dynamic is often more friendly or neutral than romantic) and is not the opposite force that meets it cosmically. That force is Revati, which is the individuated being, finally achieving true freedom and wealth, both free from and willingly immersed in Bharani's programming. While Bharani enforces or struggles with limitations, Revati gently guides themselves snd others through them, making the journey enjoyable. The questions that concern Bharani concern Revati too (same with all yoni consorts, they all deal with the same things and balance each other out with their energies): what is, in the end, the nature of life? That question contains all the other questions that these two nakshatras deal with. Bharani is heavy, intense, fierce, serious, with undertones of tragedy and the stubborn, fiery willpower. Revati is light, gentle, humorous and wise, with undertones of watery melancholy beneath its effortless nirvana and euphoria. People say that tragedy and comedy are really one and the same, it's the perspective that is altered with time that dictates how we percieve anything, (along with inherent characteristics or other forces out of our control. Saturn is time, it's debilitayed in Bharani, the Saturnian nakshatra of Yama. It's birth nakshatra is Revati).

The themes of Bharani are hidden but obvious. They are eternal and immortal (as Bharani is the end and the beginning) but secretive and ever-changing just the enduring power of the feminine changes to adapt and keep the infinity going. It's very symbolically charged and sometimes literal in an ironic and spiritual way once you dive into it.

My other published posts about Bharani as of April 28 2025:

Overview/analysis

Bharani as goddesses (connection to mythology)

Difference between three Venus nakshatra women

"The Northman" (2022)_ analysis with nakshatras (one of them is Bharani. I did not know it at the time of writing it but Anya Taylor Joy, who plays a major role there, has Bharani ascendant based on her C rated birth time, meaning that there's a chance it's incorrect)

Venus suffers when it compromises

Bharani's feminine beauty

Bharani playlist

You can also find Bharani in my astrology observations and other posts that include various/all the nakshatras.