#romantic acting attorney

[cate-geo]

I have made a Discord for Acting Attorney/Captineer shippers

Please join if you like The Actor and The DA

[conflagrazione]

Near (from death note) is a character that makes me so insane even after like six years since the first time I read the manga because. Imagine.

You're an orphan that grew up idolizing a person you never even spoke to and you liked him even more when he said that "he's a cheater that doesn't like to lose" and you found out that is not the embodiment of justice but just a man like you that liked to solve puzzles. You two even look so alike! And then he dies. And your rival/foster brother/ guy with whom you have this weird religious coded tension says that you're better suited for the job anyway, you've always been smarter than him anyway, and leaves you alone at THIRTEEN to solve the world's most dangerous case. And you don't even hate said guy, you kind of respect him and want to work with him but he makes his life purpose to beat you at this game. And you're the younger in this case but you're the less childish (emotionally speaking) and you are probably the character that expresses more vocally his dislike of Kira, that has not even a little bit of admiration for his intellect or motivation, and that's the reason why you're the one destroying his pathetic ass in the wharehouse. And then you spend years of your life alone because your "rival" put aside his fatal flaw and decided to die (knowing he will die) to save you and your team, because winning didn't make sense if he couldn't wait for you on the finish line. But they are the martyrs, and you are the one that put together their merits. So you let your hair grows like L's and you try to solve every case like he would, fulfilling the role of a dead person. Keeping L's and Mello's dolls with you even years after everything ended.

I always get annoyed when people accuse Near of being less smart than L ,of "not caring" about the Minoru case, of being a "bad copy" because he and L are identical. Babe. That's the point. He's not L, and he's not superior to him unless him and mello cooperate. Near himself aknowledges that the case was solved because of him and mello. Of course he doesn't do a big move (like shutting down sakura tv) to stop Minoru. That's something L (or even more, Mello) would do. Of course adult Near and L look so similar, he's trying to be him!!

(Honestly I wonder if him saying he wasn't very L- like in the C- Kira oneshot was the moment in which he chose to follow his own path, since in Minoru oneshot he doesn't seem as worried about acting like L as in the C-Kira oneshot or in the original series)

He is a bad copy. He's also just a half of the whole. He's not a copycat, he is haunted.

[anglerflsh]

it's been about two years since the time I drew them constantly. btw

[anpiels]

I saw someone give Haori/Rei glasses and banged this out in like 2 hours i think she should have them like. fr. thank you

[naydralikessoup]

i'm sure this has been said before but screw romance i want what phoenix and edgeworth have

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. a farewell letter to you . twisted wonderland

in which they talk about their future aspirations before you joke about crowley finding a way home for you. how would they react?

featuring : housewardens

cw: gn!reader, angst, can be read as platonic/romantic, might be ooc for vil(i rlly struggle writing for him omg), bad grammars, reader is yuu

a/n : based on this ask!! thank u for requesting this!! i really enjoy writing angst and was in the mood to do so, so this really makes my brain immediately work in one sitting lolol (～￣▽￣)～

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when the topic of graduation is brought up, riddle is always the first one to answer. he already made plans since he was a child—courtesy of his mother. his mother told him that he should be a strong medical mage, just like her.

yet, after spending two years in nrc acting as heartslabyul's housewarden, he's developed an interest in law.

"i think that there are many things that i don't know of to be so sure that i want to become a medical mage. i'd like to explore other options, too, like being an attorney. but i'll have to speak to my mother about it first ..." he sighs, before finally looking at you.

"what about you, name? surely you also have something you want to do in the future. would you like to pursue higher education? or just work right after you graduate? i recommend you go into higher education, though."

you laugh at his question, as if your answer is so obvious that even the dumbest student wouldn't ask. "what about me? well, i'll probably leave before i get to graduate. crowley's probably tired of me being here, haha!"

oh, he completely forgot about that. he forgot that you are not from this world, and that one day you'll be leaving him and whatever problems you have in this school.

... scratch that, riddle never forgets. he remembers—he just refuses to acknowledge it, and has been doing so for the past six months. time flies by so fast when you're spending it with your loved ones, it seems.

he would love to ask you to stay, or even pray to whoever so that crowley will take longer finding a way for you to go back home. but of course he can't do that, he's not that desperate anyways.

"... right. i apologize for asking such an obvious question."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"i'll go take up that internship to the sunset savannah." he smirks, showing his paper to you. "what's with that look? obviously i'm gonna take it, or else they're not gonna let me graduate at all after this. besides, not like they're gonna give a low grade to the prince, right?"

but of course he has a reason to choose something that he doesn't normally do. damn royals, you thought to yourself. he laughs when he sees your disgusted look, waving the paper in your face mockingly.

"heh, jealous you can't do that? well, that's alright, this prince can give you a few internship recommendations so even a herbivore like you can pass easily." he stops waving the paper, finally sitting down on the chair across yours.

it's your turn to laugh after he said that. "huh? what's so funny?" he scowls, looking at you like a lion ready to feast. "you know i'll leave this place before i even get to graduate, right? there's no need for you to give me recommendations, haha!"

he knows. there's no need to remind him of something that'll eventually happen, because he doesn't need to hear it from your own mouth.

he'd rather deal with the loneliness when it comes—not now, not while you're still here. he just wants to enjoy the times he gets to spend with you before you literally disappear completely.

"... shut the hell up. i'll still tell you about this, you might need it in your world or somethin'."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul, just like riddle, has already made plans for the future. he wants to show everyone back at home that even an 'ink-spewing crybaby' like him can become something in the world. not just to them, but to himself, too.

so naturally, whenever the topic of graduation is brought up, azul likes to boast a little (just a little) about his future aspirations. "well, seeing that the mostro lounge is already so successful even before i bring it to the outside world, i would probably go into business or something connected to finance in the future."

he would then look at you, asking about what you'll do in the future. "prefect, i am sure that someone as wonderful as you would already have something in mind, right? what would you like to do in the future? become a teacher? or maybe, you'd like to assist me in business?"

you laugh at his attempt to rope you into another one of his schemes. "pfft—nope, i won't be scammed anymore! besides, it's not like i'll graduate here. crowley will probably find a way home faster than i could pass any classes." you reply jokingly.

right, you're not from this world. and he remembers too, of course. no, he doesn't feel sad about it or anything. he has tons of connection on sage's island, he doesn't really feel lonely if one of them disappears.

but you're not simply 'one of them'. you were a good friend, and now a part of his loved ones. he can't just deny that fact so blatantly. yet, for some reason, he can't bring himself to say that to you.

"ah, but of course! how could i be so forgetful?"

KALIM AL-ASIM

kalim is one of the many people who feels indecisive about his future. sure, he has a wealthy family and he would probably inherit his father's wealth or leadership capabilities. it's just that, kalim doesn't know what he wants to be.

he wants to do something that he can do by himself without much help from others. "ah, i don't know ... i'm so confused about all of this! maybe i'll become a doctor? urgh, but that doesn't sound right for me ..."

he'd ask others around him what they want to be in the future, including you. "nameeee! oh, thank goodness ... i finally found you!" you almost had a heart attack when he approaches you, looking all sweaty and out of breath.

"sorry ... for scaring you. uh, i just wanna ask, what do you want to be in the future? you know, after you graduate!" well, that was a rather direct question. you snort, making him look at you like a deer caught in the headlights. "why would you ask me? you know i won't graduate from here, right? i'll probably go home before i graduate, haha!"

oh. right. he immediately feels stupid for forgetting that you're not from this world. he would stand up straight, and look at you in the eyes, before tears started to fall from his eyes. "woah, k-kalim, what's wrong?!"

"hiks, sorry ... i shouldn't have asked that question, now it's made me all sad ..." he wipes the tears from his face using his hands. "i completely forgot that you're not from here ... but i wish i can change it somehow. i'm sorry ..."

kalim can't bring himself to accept the fact that you'll leave someday.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil is someone who already has his future planned. he knows what he'll be, and he doesn't spend his free time boasting about it with others. he doesn’t need to say it—everyone already knows he’ll enter the entertainment industry.

but when he looks at you, he can't figure out what you'll become after you graduate. which brings the two of you to this conversation. "yes, i'll join the entertainment industry. i already have some job offers, too. so it was not that hard for me to choose which internship i'll go to."

you nod, although you already expected his answer, you still find it cool and admirable that he can do something so grand at the age of eighteen. your train of thoughts were cut off when vil asks, "what about you? what will you become after you graduate?"

you laugh, and he raises an eyebrow. "well, it's not like i'll graduate from here anyways, right? crowley's gonna find a way for me to go home before i even get to reach the second year. probably." he scoffs quietly before continuing.

"well, that's obvious enough. but are you not gonna continue your education back in your world?" now that's a new one. you never really thought about what you'll do after you come back to your world.

you don't even know if your family thinks you're alive. "i don't know, i'll probably continue studying and pursue a higher education ... or maybe go to work immediately?"

"hmph, you're still a first year. you have many things coming in the future, so just focus on your studies." he replies sternly. he quickly masks the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but the faint twitch of his mouth betrays a wish for more time together before he graduates.

IDIA SHROUD

idia is a genius. he already received a job offer from olympus, the hardest company to get a job offer from, days before the internship assembly for the third years even started.

he's the type to not make small chats about people's future. heck, he doesn't even chat that much with people outside of you and ortho. but when you came barging into his room asking about his internship, he can't help but share a little.

"uh, w-well, i already got a job offer from olympus ... also, could you please NOT barge into my room so suddenly? you're gonna make me reboot myself out of crippling shock someday." he glares at you, making you laugh.

"hehe, sorry about that. but i heard that it's pretty hard to get a job offer from olympus, so that's pretty cool!" you grin, noticing the ends of his hair turns into a faint shade of pink. "umm, well, this is for research purposes but, w-what'll you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, not like i'm gonna graduate here anyways, hehe. so i don't know." he pauses after you said that. that's it, huh? he’s going to lose yet another friend, after working so hard just to get close to you, huh?

why's it always gotta end that way whenever he tries to make contact with anyone? ortho was enough, he doesn't need to lose you too. fate is such a cruel thing. he silently wishes his plans in the island of woe had worked. er, not really.

he laughs awkwardly at your reply. "oh. right. sorry 'bout that."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he overblots immediately

jk sorry

malleus is not familiar with how the human world operates, being a nocturnal fae himself. so he was pretty confused by the fact that he was supposed to learn something from an internship in just three months. that's like three days for him.

so, he went to your dorm, hoping to learn something valuable from a human like you. "child of man, i was tasked to fill out this form for my internship, but i do not understand how we're supposed to learn anything in just three months. could you please enlighten me?"

you then sat him down on your couch, telling him that time flows differently for fae and humans. three months might seem short, but for humans, it’s enough to learn much. "you are right, i apologize for being so ignorant about our differences. hmm, i am curious though. what would you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, i'll probably leave before i graduate. not like i'm gonna stay here forever, right? hehe." you laugh, making him go silent. he almost completely forgets that you come from another place, and that someday you would leave him behind in this world.

he clenches his fist in quiet devastation. then, a thunder strike was heard from outside your window, signaling an upcoming storm. "woah, there's gonna be a storm happening. is it okay for you to stay here? uh, but i guess you can just teleport back, right?"

your voice is muffled due to the rain, mixing together with the background noises. malleus is angry, but is mostly sad that he'll be alone yet again. he's already feeling sad enough by the fact that lilia will leave this school soon, but now you'll also leave?

"...leus? malleus?" he snaps out of his thoughts when you wave your hand in front of his face. "are you okay?" you ask him, and he only chuckles at your question. "... yes, i'm alright. i apologize for scaring you, i shall leave now." he immediately teleported out of your dorm after that.

you tilt your head curiously, questions like, "why was he acting like that?" filled your head. unbeknownst to you, blot has already begun to seep into his magic pen.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[liccalavender]

Ace Attorney does not get nearly enough credit for the fact that it consistently portrays relationships between men and women with absolutely no romantic or sexual undertones.

In any other game, it would be very common to make some sort of chemistry between the protagonist and their assistant. We play as an attractive man who's usually smart and charming. With a cute young girl as a quirky assistant. This would be a recipe for some sort of heterosexual romance in any other media.

However, this never happens. The dynamic between the lawyer and the assistant is always platonic. Or even familial. Phoenix and Maya act and treat each other as if they were siblings. Bickering and bullying each other, but still doing anything they can to help one another. Phoenix typically refers to Maya as a kid. Even when she is well into her 20s. While Edgeworth and Kay have a much more of a father daughter bond. Edgeworth constantly worried about her when she put herself in danger. Helping her in all sorts of ways. Even stepping into the shoes of her actual biological father to restore her memories in The Forgotten Turnabout. Of course, Apollo follows this trend as well. With Trucy being has actual biological half-sister. Neither know of this yet still act as if they grew up together. Teasing and poking fun throughout the game.

There's not a single moment for any of these duos that I can recall that scream romantic. With the exception of Phoenix and Maya. Mind you, this not them, actually acting in a romantic way. It is the way their relationship is perceived by a small young girl. Pearl is absolutely convinced that Phoenix and Maya are deeply in love and will be married soon. This is treated as something unfortunate. Phoenix was confused as to why she was thinking this way. Until Maya informed him that Pearl almost never sees a happy healthy relationship between a man and a woman. She has come to understand that if a man treats a woman nicely, then they must be in love. The attitude Phoenix and Maya have about this isn't one of lovers or secret pining. It's one of great sadness for little pearly.

There are characters in the story who do act disgustingly heterosexual whenever they can. Namely, Larry "if something smells" Butz. He's constantly in and out of relationships and always looking for more. He even hinted at jealousy for Phoenix and his friendship with Maya and Pearl. Which is pretty gross. He's shamed and scorned for this behavior most of the time. Signifying, he's the odd one out.

When it comes to fandom shipping, this is a similar story. While yes, of course, there are plenty of people who ship the lawyers with their assistants. It's not nearly as common as you'd think it was. Most people agree that these characters have no chemistry with each other. Most even have the maturity to understand that shipping a man in his mid twenties with a girl usually under eighteen is wrong. In both the Western and Jappanese fandom, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of shipping for these characters.

I commend the writers for doing this. It is a breath of fresh air to finally have healthy friendships between men and women. Even when they do have more of a romantic undertone, with characters such as Mia and Diego, it is one of respect and admiration. Not one of simply physical attraction.

[catgirl-catboy]

Which Ace Attorney Characters know Phoenix ate glass?

Maya: Knows the details of the story from Mia. She doesn't like joking about things related to Mia, so she doesn't talk about it often. Pearl: Heard about it from Mystic Maya when trying to learn everything about Mr. Nick. Doesn't know the details, namely that it was for another woman. Morgan: Absolutely knows, and is judgemental as hell about it. Larry: He was 100% Phoenix's emergency contact at the time- he knows the whole story. Thiks its incredibly romantic, and wants to find a woman that'd eat glass for him. Oldbag: Heard from Larry. Thinks its just a young person thing. Edgeworth: I think he was told about it by Larry, but thinks there's only a kernel of truth to it. When Phoenix offhandedly mentions it years later he loses his mind. Franziska: Mocks Larry for being enough of a fool to think Phoenix ate glass. Gumshoe: The only person told by Phoenix himself. Knows the man ate glass, but not why. Living paycheck to paycheck causes you to eat things you've never considered eating. Godot: Researched Mia's cases after his coma. 100% knows, but has probably accidentally swallowed a coffee cup, so he can't judge. Apollo: Researched Phoenix's cases, and knows about it intellectually. Hasn't fully comprehended how insane it is. Trucy: Knows, and it's a meme he can make glass vanish without a trace. Athena: Knows there's a story, but none of the details. Ema: Nobody has told her, for fear of her also deciding to eat glass. Kristoph: Knows about it, but assumes it was an act of phycological warfare. Has spent hours trying to analyze his tactics. Klavier: Knows about it, and refrences it in his hit single. + Iris: Dahlia never told her.

[kyeomszone]

motive ○ lee dokyeom

tags. exes to ??. ex-fwb. hate sex (started off atleast, these bitches are idiots). fingering. rough sex. penetrative sex (vaginal). degradation. objectification. unresolved romantic tension.

synopsis. there aren't a lot of things that can get the Lee Seokmin angry. He's seen a lot in his career as the district attorney, has lived through a lot but goddammit did you know how to get under his skin better and faster than anyone with the infuriating smirk of yours.

masterlist. series masterlist.

If someone were to ask about what sort of person Lee Seokmin is, the first thing that would pop up in people’s heads is kind or a saint or some other iteration of it.

The man had built his career from these very acts, pro bono cases ( despite being very broke straight out of university ) to tackling big public figures━ politicians, businessmen and women, none were safe from Lee Seokmin and his silver tongue━ to now, having been elected the district attorney, the youngest in the country’s history.

You call bullshit.

The Lee Seokmin you know is all teeth, bruising grip and unforgiving mouth.

You remember the man as clear as day, even though it has been almost half a decade since the two of you last crossed paths━ a hurried conversation, the crack in your heart, the coldness in his eyes-

You remember the man, the way he spun arguments in his favour no matter how bad the odds were, the way he brought the room’s attention to himself so irrevocably, so effortlessly with that bright smile of his, the very same smile that turned sharp and sharklike behind closed door, having you shaking in your knees and your cheeks stained with tears as he denied you the high.

He was kind yes, but not a saint.

Lee Seokmin was the farthest thing from a saint.

Maybe that was why wherever you get the chance, you try to get under his skin and show the world the cruel thing that lay behind their saint. That this-this whole kindness, this love, this care that he shows are all a carefully done facade.

So, you were on the witness stand, repeating the oath as a smirk played on your lips with your eyes not leaving Seokmin’s form. He looked tense, jaw clenched, knuckles white and eyebrows set.

The man looked far tenser than he did when had introduced the case, a hard look on his face but eyes still infuriatingly kind, the opening a carefully curated string of words that had the audience━ judge, jury, defendant, everyone entranced, the words spoken in that soft, sweet voice of his already swaying the jury.

The case had been against one of your former business partners, you having been brought in as a witness or said man to use against Seokmin’s arguments and even though the man you had worked with could be described as scum, you played up the act. Doing your part to convince the jury that the accusations were baseless and the prosecution was simply trying to bring down a good man (and if you threw in jabs against Seokmin in between your words, well that was between you and him).

Which brought you this very moment━ you sitting in one of your office chairs after hours, the plush material soft against your back as you lift the glass of bourbon to your lips, the smile on your lips smug as you stare down Seokmin, the glass you had offered him sitting untouched.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for humiliation,” Your words are sharp as they fall from your lips, mocking. “You think you know a person.”

Seokmin doesn’t rise to the bait, instead, he looks at you, something angry, something resigned in his gaze that makes your skin itch. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” Seokmin repeats himself, a sigh falling from his lips as he finally picks up the glass of alcohol, staring at the amber liquid. “Why go out of your way to defend him?”

You scoff at his audacity to question you after everything he has done. “What do you mean, why? He’s my business partner, we worked together and I━”

“Bullshit.” Seokmin snaps, his eyes hard as he glares at you, his grip on the glass now white-knuckled. “That's bullshit and we both know that. He is a murd━”

“You don’t know me Lee Seokmin,” You interrupt him, setting the glass with a hard clang as you narrow your eyes at him. “So don’t barge your way in here and give me a fucking lecture on morality.”

“You're right,” Seokmin sighs, taking a large gulp of bourbon and your eyes can’t help but trace the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I don’t know you, the version of you that I knew is-is gone and...” a sharp laugh falls from his lips as he sets the glass back down. His eyes turn cold, lips twisting into a cruel little smile as he tilts his head. “What’s left of you is an empty shell filled with nothing but greed and━”

You are out of your chair before he finishes speaking, pushing his shoulders harshly as you glare down at him. Your breath comes out in harsh pants, jaw clenched and nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder, “Fuck you.”

Seokmin stares back, his eyes not leaving yours and he keeps staring and staring and━

His lips find themselves on your, hand cradling your jaw as the other tangles with your hair. You freeze for a minute, eyes wide at the unexpected course of action and it takes a minute for your brain to reboot before you find yourself kissing him back, your tongue licking across his seam, his tongue tangling with yours, mapping your mouth.

He stands up, lips still moving against yours as he gently pushes your backwards until the small of your back hits the desk, his body pressing against yours and━ fuck, you hate how this has your hold body burning, heat settling in your bones and turning you to putty.

He pulls away, panting as his forehead rests against yours. His grip on your jaw doesn’t loosen, neither does his hold on your hair and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“Seokmin,” You breathe out, eyes on his face, the sharp contours of his face, the slope of his jaw, the moles shattered on his cheeks, all of which as like familiar in a way a book you had read years ago is. “Seokmin what━”

“Shut up,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips, pulling them back in and in one fell swoop, he has you lifted onto your desk, settling in between your legs and the casual display of strength has wetness pooling in your panties. You knew Seokmin had filled out, the muscles on his body no longer lithe the way it had been in university━ not from the way his shirts and suits hugged his body, almost tearing at the seams due to the stretch with each contraction.

His hand trails down from your hair, moving down until they’re at the buttons of your shirt, fingers undoing them and pulling it off, the fabric pooling near your hips and your shiver as the cold air of room brushes against your skin. Your grip on his shirt tightens, the fabric crinkling as you try to bring him closer than he already is, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth with a fervent need.

He pulls away for a second, breathing harshly, “Do you want to stop?”

You stare at him, the words taking a moment to skin in and when they do, you shake your head, “No,” the word falls off your lips without a beat of hesitation.

“Still the slut I know.” The words fall off Seokmin’s lips accompanied by a small laugh, a deeper, darker sort of under that makes molten heat course through your veins despite the humiliation that burns in you. “Maybe not everything has changed.”

You ignore the way his words sound wistful by the end, tugging him back down to meet your mouth, moaning at the way he bites your bottom lips, thighs pushing against your core. A beat later, his mouth starts trailing down, from your lips to your jaw, biting and licking and tugging at the skin of your jaw to your neck to your shoulder and then down to your tits.

One of his hands moves to unhook your bra while the other moves the garment. His mouth settles on one of the nubs, the teeth sinking into the flesh sending a flash of pleasure that has you gasping, back arching as you push yourself more onto him. His hand cups the other breast, fingers digging into the soft mound and as he tugs and tugs the abused nipple before moving onto the other.

All the while you’ve turned into a mess of pants and moans, your eyes rolling the the back of your head as Seokmin works his way through your body, taking you as he pleases, however he wants, wherever he wants━ uncaring of what you have to say.

It makes you feel like an object to use for his pleasure.

It makes your core throb.

“Pretty,” Seokmin mumbles against your skin, his breath warm and making you shiver. “My pretty girl.”

You burn at the praise, at being called his and you hate how it makes you feel.

“Fuck me already,” You snap instead, distracting yourself from whatever's starting to take root in you.

Seokmin’s eyes snap up to yours, eyebrows scrunching as he takes in a sharp breath. His hand trailed from your waist to your neck, fingers curling around the base of it and giving a light squeeze, making your breath hitch. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” He grits out, his words sharp and syllables coated in warning. “Behave.”

You swallow and nod. “Okay,” your next breath is shaky as you look at him. He stares at you for a second, before nodding.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Seokmin says, kissing you again as his hands start moving down. He unbuckles your belt, undoing the button and taking off your pants and underwear together, dropping them to the floor.

“So wet for me,” Seokmin mumbles, running a finger through your fold, wetness gathering on his finger making you moan, his mouth swallowing the sound. Two fingers slip into your hole easily, Seokmin groaning at the smooth motion and the subsequent tightening around the digits. His thumb settles against your cilt, rubbing circles as he starts fucking you rough and fast with his fingers.

He pulls away from you slightly, lips a breath away as he says: “How many times can I make you cum before you start sobbing?” He grins against your lips as you can only reply with a moan. “I remember it being four before you started whriting and sobbing as you begged me to stop.”

“Seok━” You gasp out as he presses against your cilt harder, your whole body tensing as you get closer and closer to the edge, your whole body tight as a coil.

“Has it gone back to one?” Seokmin keeps the conversation going nonchalantly as if you weren’t seconds away from crumbling to the ground. “No one’s been able to fuck you as well as I did to keep up?”

The coil in you snaps, as you clench around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan; your orgasm washing over you.

“One.” Seokmin counts, his thumb still working away at your cilt and your body starts to tighten again, limbs locking up and you’re sure the only reason you're still upright is due to the hold Seokmin has on you. His fingers still piston in and out of you and within a few breaths you’re being pushed to the edge again, body coiling and coiling and━

“Seokmin,” You can’t help but sob out when the second orgasm washes over you and Seokmin still keeps going, thumb working and working and working away at your cilt. “Can’t, please, Seok━ Seokmin.”

Seokmin stops, his fingers pulling out as he ticks an eyebrow, “Just two?”

You take in a shaky breath, your whole body shuddering as you nod. “I... I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying, despite the embarrassment stelling into your bones━ you don’t even know why.

“It’s okay, baby.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, soft and warm and a complete juxtaposition to his demeanour a beat ago. “You did good, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, letting him completely overwhelm your senses. His hands caging your body, clothed thigh pressed against your dripping core, mouth moving against yours, soft, wet warm and grounding.

“Lay back,” Seokmin orders softly once he pulls away and you do, your back settling on the cool surface of the glass as you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor. A moan falls from your lips as you feel his head against your folds, moving to collect the wetness on the dull nub. Your whole body arches, mouth falling open as he pushes in, the thick length of his stretches you to your absolute limits, and despite the wetness from his ministrations and two orgasms, it still takes a bit of effort to fully seath himself inside.

Good god, you’d forgotten how big he was.

No wonder anyone who came after could never fully make you feel half of what he did.

“Fuck,” Seokmin pants, his body leaning over yours, “My perfect little toy,” Seokmin moans out as he starts moving, a slow drag followed by a snap that has you arching. With each thrust, he picks up his pace, playing with your cilt every once in a while to bring you closer to your orgasm as he fucks you fast and rough and hard enough to leave you aching for days.

Your body is putty by the time his pace grows erratic, hips snapping against yours as he fucks you, pistoning in and out and in and you feel your body tightening, his own breaths coming out sharp and short and a few thrusts later, you're coming around his cock, tightening around his thick girth and that seems to push him over the edge as well as he quickly pulls out and paints your stomach white.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath, your senses slowly rewriting itself from having been fried. You push yourself to sit up despite the exhaustion settling in your body as you stare at Seokmin, hair damp from sweat, skin flushed with the effect of sex and he looks just as breathtaking as the first day you saw him.

A heaviness settles in your chest the longer you look.

You missed him.

You hate yourself for thinking that.

note. i have a part two for it that is more plot than smut, so lemme know if anyone's interested

[mauromance]

A case for Kastle | Why Karen and Frank are end game

The relationship between Frank Castle and Karen Page doesn’t just surpass her connection with Matt Murdock, it fundamentally redefines what intimacy looks like in the darker corners of the MCU.

Where Matt’s love is complicated by secrets and duality, Frank’s is startling in its raw transparency. And crucially, their bond is textually romantic in ways the narrative consistently reinforces.

Matt’s love is fractured by duality

Matt Murdock exists in perpetual contradiction: saint and sinner, attorney and assailant, the man and the mask. His relationship with Karen mirrors this civil war within: every tender moment undermined by secrets, every act of protection laced with deception. He doesn't withhold truths because he doesn't care, but because he's forgotten how to exist without walls. Even as Daredevil fights for her safety, Matt Murdock keeps her at arm's length—not from lack of love, but from the terrifying certainty that to let her truly see him might destroy them both.

Frank’s love is brutal in its honesty

Frank Castle wears no mask, he owns his brutality. And yet with Karen, his most jagged edges as the Punisher soften.

Karen could never replace his family, but she becomes something equally dangerous: proof that Frank Castle might still exist beyond his war. She's the first person who makes him consider there could be an after—not as the Punisher, but simply as Frank. And that's what truly terrifies him.

Because in Frank's world, love is vulnerability. It's the knowledge that those closest to us are the ones who can destroy us most completely. His family's love made him whole; their loss unmade him. To let Karen matter is to risk that devastation all over again. Yet still, against instincts and effort their connection is forged.

Kastle is a lens, not a subplot

Frank and Karen’s relationship isn’t romantic filler, it’s the narrative’s moral compass. A lens through which we learn about their characters. Through their connection, we see:

Frank’s capacity for tenderness beneath the violence

Karen’s strength and empathy in the face of darkness

Their shared language of guilt and vengeance

They are each other's revelation. Karen is Frank's reckoning—the living mirror forcing him to confront the man beneath the body armor. And he, in turn, becomes her permission:

Permission to stop running from the blood on her hands

Permission to stare into her darkness without flinching

Permission to plant her feet when the world says "know your place"

Where Matt's half-truths left Karen questioning her worth, Frank's brutal transparency becomes her foundation. Their connection transcends romantic subplot. It's the spinal column of their shared narrative. Every loaded glance, every silence thicker than gun smoke, every "Karen" growled like a prayer or "Frank" whispered like a secret—these moments do more heavy lifting than any fight scene.

That's why the question was never "will they/won't they," but "how could they not?". In a universe where Daredevil hides behind masks and Kingpin behind tailored suits, Frank and Karen stand stripped bare. No aliases, no pretenses, just two scarred souls recognizing each other in the wreckage.

And that raw honesty? In my book, it's rarer and more revolutionary, than love.

Matt can move on (Frank can’t)

Matt's story thrives on reinvention. Across the comics and the MCU, he cycles through defining relationships (Karen, Elektra, Claire, Kirsten, etc.). Each love interest representing a different phase of his moral journey. We know that Karen in this case, is a chapter in Matt/Daredevil’s story, not the ending. The MCU's current trajectory seems to confirm this flexibility: with new Daredevil projects announced and more adversaries emerging, Matt's character arc clearly has room to evolve beyond any single romance. He's a hero whose growth comes through many varied connections.

Frank's narrative on the other hand, operates on an entirely different principle. It's a closed emotional circuit. His past is defined by the family he lost; his present (and with any justice, his future) by Karen Page. These are the twin anchors of his humanity, because beneath the body armor and bloodstains, Frank Castle remains at his core what he's always been: a family man without a family.

Where Matt's rotating relationships showcase his evolution as a hero, Frank's bond with Karen serves as his last tether to something resembling normalcy. She prevents him from devolving into pure monstrosity. 

This distinction is crucial for understanding Frank as an anti-hero rather than a villain:

Without Karen, Frank risks becoming a one-dimensional killing machine. She serves as his living connection to the world beyond vengeance. 

Karen gives viewers permission to root for Frank despite his brutality. Through her eyes, we see:

The remnants of the man he was before the tragedy

The potential for something beyond endless war

The cost of his crusade on someone who cares about him

With Karen in the picture, The Punisher's story becomes:

A tragedy of survival rather than mindless violence

A meditation on what parts of ourselves we sacrifice to trauma

A question of whether damaged people can still connect

The MCU's current trajectory seems to recognize this. While Matt will continue evolving through new relationships and challenges, Frank's arc demands resolution. His character is getting older, and this crusade it taking it toll (evidenced in Born Again when he is seen taking pain killers on two seperate occasions). Karen isn't just another love interest to him, she's the last remaining thread connecting Frank Castle to humanity and his way out of the life of venegence. Sever that, and you don't have an anti-hero anymore... you just have a loaded gun in a world full of targets.

Their relationship transforms what would just be gratuitous violence into Shakespearean tragedy. Without it, we're left with the shell of a character who long ago forgot why he started fighting.

There’s transformation through love

Love made Frank Castle into the Punisher (a husband and father’s rage crystallized into war). Now love, his simmering connection to Karen, could forge him into something new. Not a saint, not even a hero, but a man who’s learned to carry his losses without being crushed by them.

The tragedy and the triumph is this: The same force that created the monster might yet redeem the man. Not through grand gestures, but through cups of coffee and all the quiet ways two broken people learn to fit together without cutting themselves on each other’s edges.

To me, that’s beyond romance. That’s resurrection.

A Kastle resolution would fit the MCU’s pattern

In the MCU, completed love stories are reserved for characters whose journeys are ending. Steve Rogers gets his dance with Peggy only after hanging up the shield. Thor’s reunion with Jane coincides with her heroic exit. So following this narrative calculus, if the plan is to wrap up the Punisher’s story, it would seem that the Kastle payoff is inevitable.

The evidence: 

1. The original plan to exclude Karen from Born Again was a miscalculation so glaring it had to be reversed. This speaks volumes:

The push for her inclusion recognises her narrative necessity to both Daredevil and the Punisher

Karen's light footprint in Born Again season 1 suggests the show is saving her emotional weight for a more pivotal conclusion

2. The upcoming Born Again season 2 and 2026 Punisher special create an ideal narrative runway:

For Matt and Karen it could provide a clean, mature resolution to their relationship that:

Honors their history without trapping Matt in the past

Gives Karen agency in walking away

Leaves Matt open for fresh dynamics in a potential season 3

For Frank and Karen it grants a sunset moment with gravity:

The Punisher special could mirror Logan's emotional heft (not in death, but in closure)

Karen's arc would be allowed to culminate not as "Daredevil’s love interest” or "Frank's salvation," but as a woman who's faced her demons and maintained her agency 

3. It serves everyone

Matt grows beyond his Netflix-era baggage

Frank's story ends where it began: with love as his defining force

Karen avoids becoming a plot device—she exits as someone who shaped both men

This is narrative justice. The pieces are all there. Now Marvel just needs to follow through.

It’s bitter and beautiful 

Kastle was never meant to be a fairytale. It's two fractured souls using each other's sharp edges to polish their own broken pieces:

Karen's unwavering courage files down Frank's nihilism

Frank's brutal honesty cracks open Karen's shell of guilt

Their quiet understanding becomes armor against a world that wants them broken

In a universe where Spider-Man’s optimism feels increasingly naive, and Daredevil's moral code keeps crumbling, Kastle offers something radical: the notion that damaged people don't need fixing, just someone who sees their cracks and doesn't look away. That recognition alone can make the endless fight worthwhile.

The final verdict

All signs point to one undeniable truth: Kastle is the only ending that does justice to Frank and Karen's complex journey, while still giving Matt the narrative space to evolve beyond his past. The foundation has been meticulously built across multiple shows and seasons. Marvel now faces a choice: honor this years-long character arc with the emotional payoff it deserves, or let these rich, layered relationships fade into unrealized potential.

Giving us a Kastle ending is more than fan service, at this point it is narrative integrity. Kastle represents:

One of the MCU's most mature explorations of trauma and connection

A rare love story built on mutual respect

The perfect emotional conclusion for Frank’s and Karen’s arcs, while allowing Matt to move forward unshackled from old dynamics

The evidence is all there in the text, the subtext, and the behind-the-scenes decisions. The story has been telling us where this is headed for nearly a decade. Now, Marvel just needs to listen to its own narrative.

--

Want to dive deeper? 

Coffee in the MCU

A way forward (my fan theory)

Kastle scene breakdowns: The subtext you missed [WIP]

--

Published: April 23, 2025

Last edited: April 23, 2025

[cate-geo]

I keep thinking of the Actor laying on the couch just on his phone, reading, playing a video game, or whatever

And then Yn just finds him and lays on top of him

And Actor doesn’t even look away from his current activity. He just adjusts slightly so they’re both more comfortable and doesn’t acknowledge it further than that

And the two of them just stay like that for hours

[author-main]

How would Phoenix react if someone tries to hurt Miles? The same goes for Miles reaction to someone hurting Phoenix.

Well, I guess you'd have to look at Phoenix's past actions. What has he done when someone he cares about is in danger? He put his own life on the line for them. When Maya was tased by von Karma, he was too scared for her safety to run away. When he heard gunshots through the door of the channeling chamber, he broke it down to get to her. He found out de Killer's hideout and had the police storm it, but he was the one to break into where he believed Maya was being held. And... he ran across a burning bridge for her.

It all seems like things he'd only do for Maya. But let's consider what he's done for clients:

Run-in with the mob twice, once for Will Powers (Dee Vasquez), once for Maggey Byrde (Furio Tigre)

Confrontations with dangerous, corrupt people who could have easily harmed him: Maya (Redd White), Miles (von Karma), and Lana Skye (Damon Gant)

Defended Maggey despite being cracked over the head and getting complete amnesia (Richard Wellington)

I can safely assume, anything Phoenix would do to protect Miles from danger would put himself in harm's way. Not even because he loves him romantically, it's just who he is. He doesn't seem to care about himself at all.

HOWEVER, there's been 2 instances where he's put his hands on people in defense of the people he loves. In 3-1, he pushed Doug to the ground for talking bad about his girlfriend. And in 2-2 he slapped Lotta for talking shit about Maya. He only hits someone in defense of others, so if push came to shove, he may throw down for Miles too!

As for Miles, I haven't seen the Investigations games yet, so please excuse me if I say something that seems a bit contradictory. The only things I can consider at this point is from the PWT.

Miles's actions are a lot less physically dangerous. He posted bail for Maya. He was the one to mobilize the police when Phoenix told him about her kidnapping. And when Phoenix was the one in danger, he flew across the world to be by his side. It makes me wonder if Miles would ever be told if Phoenix was harmed by someone until way after the fact.

But to consider Bridge to the Turnabout - because that's the only time Phoenix was hurt and Miles knew about it - it was dangerous for Miles to act as defense attorney. He had to pull strings, get a judge who wouldn't recognize him and a prosecutor who was in on the plan, to defend Iris. Because if they knew he was a prosecutor, it'd probably be really bad for his career.

I'm not sure Miles would ever be in the position where, if Phoenix was actively be in harm's way, he would have to put his own life in danger to protect him. But that did happen... Hell, Miles might! But it's more likely he'd do something to put his career on the line for Phoenix. Maybe he'd throw hands, wouldn't that be funny?

Posh, prim, Prosecutor Edgeworth, throwing off his red blazer and knocking some guy's teeth in...

Hot.

[the-bar-sinister]

Despite a ton of queer subtext, the actual canonical text of Ace Attorney is deeply homophobic and heteronormative.

Homosexuality and queerness are never directly referenced or mentioned at all in the series. There is never a moment in the series where it is directly discussed that non-straight is a thing you can be.

However, there are a few characters who are implied to be non-straight and these cases are handled in the same way every time.

Male homosexual stereotypes: men who wear cosmetics, are flashy and limp wristed. These queer stereotype men are treated with derision by the characters and the text. At one point Phoenix Wright directly calls another man (Redd White) a "fruitcake" which is a slur against homosexual men.

Implied lesbians: Specifically Lana Skye and Aura Blackquill. In both cases these characters are hinted to have romantic feelings for another woman. In both these cases, the characters around them do not reference this directly and instead act embarrassed on the woman's behalf. Ema hurries to explain that Lana's attraction to Mia is "an intellectual attraction", and in court, everyone is nervous to explain to the judge that Aura was in romantic love with Metis and it's never said directly, only hinted around with embarrassment.

In both cases, male and female, the characters of Ace Attorney act in a way that suggests that homosexuality in the Ace Attorney universe is something embarrassing and shameful.

At no point in the series is there ever a moment where homosexual behavior and presentation isn't treated as something embarrassing and shameful.

[jeanne-crains]

Dee David, one of the victims in the Mickey Cohen ambush, primps in hospital while recovering slowly from gunshot wounds, July 22, 1949.

In the early hours of July 20, 1949 actress Dee David went to Sherry's, a café on Sunset Strip, where she met up with Frank Nicolli whom she reportedly had a romantic relationship with. Nicolli was a member of the Cohen crime family. Others at the café included Mickey Cohen, Neddie Herbert, a top lieutenant of Cohen's, and Harry Cooper, a Special Agent that had been assigned by the state attorney to guard Cohen. Four other members of various police agency's were also located around the café, assigned to guard Cohen after several failed assassination attempts had been made on him and Herbert.

At 4 am the party left the café with the police guards having left shortly earlier. As David, Cooper, Cohen, and Herbert stood on the sidewalk exchanging goodbyes gunfire opened up from the Bing Crosby building across the street. Cohen was hit in the shoulder, Cooper was hit twice in the abdomen, David was hit multiple times in the back (some reports say twice, others say three times, and still others say four times). Herbert was hit the worse leading investigators to theorize he was the target of the hit. He would succumb to his injuries about a week later while the other three recovered.

Less than 2 months later David would be mentioned in newspapers again when Frank Nicolli went missing while out on a $75,000 bail. David was reportedly the last person to see him and was able to tell police he had left her apartment to pick someone up at the airport. When her tip was not followed up on David went to the airport herself where she found Nicolli's abandoned car. Although Cohen believed Nicolli had been murdered the police did not and believed Cohen was hiding Nicolli and possibly planning to smuggle him into Mexico to avoid trial. However he was never found.

In February of the next year Cohen's house was bombed in another assassination attempt and Jack Dragna, who was questioned last July, was the prime suspect. Dragna had been the head of organized crime in LA until the late 1930s when Bugsy Siegel was sent to California by the East Coast mafia to set up operations. Once there Siegel teamed up with Cohen to gain majority control of LA's criminal syndications. After Siegel was assassinated in 1947, Cohen took over. Dragna wanted Cohen out of the way so he could regain full control.

At the time L.A. was trying to crack down on organized crime and clean out it's influence in the government. The knowledge that Special Agent Harry Cooper had been assigned as bodyguard to Cohen at tax payers expense enraged city councilmen. Dragna and Cohen were both ordered to appear before the Kefauver Committee. This resulting in Cohen being imprisoned for tax evasion in 1951 and Dragna receiving a deportation order to Sicily in 1953 (although he appealed this and passed away of natural causes in 1956 before the case was settled).

Cohen would survive another attempt on his life when serving a second prison term for tax evasion. After his release he became a businessman and celebrity and spent the later years of his life touring the country giving speeches and making television appearances before passing away of natural causes in 1976.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s Jimmy Fratianno, a member of the Dragna crime family, became an FBI informant in exchange for leniency. He confessed to the murder of Frank Nicolli in 1949 when Nicolli refused to betray Cohen and join the Dragna gang.

In May of 1950 David and Cooper, who first met on the night of the shooting, got married. However David would leave him a year later and file for divorce on the grounds of "extreme cruelty", which would be finalized in 1954.

David's acting career was not successful and she never surpassed bit parts (as a newspaper article cruelly focuses on immediately after the shooting). She still worked in the industry as a film technician and a script girl.

In 1956 David would make newspaper headlines again after being beaten by the Sica brothers, two gangsters and friends of Cohen. David claimed that they broke into her house while she was in a business meeting with Alfred Shomo and beat her and her guest while the brothers, who were also business partners with David, claimed they were invited to the house and turned violent after David pulled a gun on them. At the time David was working on Spring Byington's show December Bride. Byington appeared in court and testified on David's behalf while Cohen testified for the brothers. The brothers were found not guilty.

[nerdraging4point0]

Underdog//Motionless one shot

The work below consists of fictionalized ideas and stories. It is an alternate universe story with only names and likenesses used in creation of a character. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Please review the content warning before proceeding.

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent. This does not mean that the behavior is ethical or acceptable in reality-does it happen, yes. Is that something I am going to go into? No. I am not an attorney. Per ChampionWomen Sexual contacts or “romantic” relationships between an athlete and a person who has a position of power over the athlete are prohibited. Person of power includes but is not limited to coaches, administrators, judges, referees, employers, staff, medical personnel, and even volunteers or older athletes and teammates.] the following one shot includes unprotected sex, P/V sex, fingering.

A.N: @mysticdoodlez and @ladyveronikawrites I present to you and owe you for this fucking piece of art.

Exhibition

Coach Cerulli stood off to the side in the coach's box, not saying a word, his legs shoulder-width apart as he swayed back and forth on his feet. He wears his disgustingly dark ensemble of worn high-top Converse and straight-leg jeans. Already obnoxiously tall, the dress style made him look even more intimidating. Glancing over him once, you notice an apparent sweat triangle starting at the collar of the black cotton tee he wore under his polyester team jersey. An electric green sea turtle was stitched on the right side of his chest, and Cerulli was stitched on the back. Trying to focus on your drill partner, Rachel, you steal quick glances after each ball toss. Under the black bill of his ball cap, Coach Cerulli's jaw clenched as he chewed the pale green gum between his teeth. 

Rachel rolled the neon yellow ball across the rust-colored dirt toward you; spreading your legs apart, bending at the waist, glove in hand, you dip to the ground, catching the ball on its roll, securing it with your other hand, you take a step, and toss the ball to her again. 

As a team, you'd been at this for an hour now; the humidity from the earlier rain made beads of sweat start at the back of your neck and under your cap. The gray storm clouds rolled over the Florida coast, looking angry; another storm was approaching.

Balmy tropical air and classic South Florida smell were something you'd missed when you were on break. Some of the girls decided to pack up and hit the slopes of Colorado for a week; you were more than eager to go. It had been a celebratory and bittersweet season last year, and you were all due for a nice getaway. Coach Adams announced last season that she'd be retiring sooner than expected. Her youngest had just graduated High School, and she struggled to adjust.

Enter Coach Cerulli. 

He was overbearing and a perfectionist; he drilled and worked the team till he felt you were perfect. It worked, or maybe it was because you wanted to impress Coach Adams for her final season. Leaving the season last year, you were nearly undefeated. And it was no surprise now that he demanded the same perfection. 

"You're looking soft, ladies. Let's pick it up. I wanna see some sweat, some determination, act like you fucking want it." He crossed his arms, kicking up some of the dirt from the field before he dropped down, squatting on one knee as he stretched the other to its entire length. 

Several players on the team turned to look at the coach; it was no secret most of the team found him hot. He was older. Way older. But that added to the heat of the idea. You were aware of Coach Cerulli's attractiveness, his dark hair and eyes; the only part of his skin not covered in tattoos was his achingly beautiful face. Once you'd gotten close enough to see his three little scars on his bottom lip, it only added to the mystery of what had been his past. Fantasy is what it was; it was all fantasy. There was no room for error when your college life was riding on a full sports scholarship. 

The team continued to drill, the breeze from the water bringing a salty taste to the air. Soon, the sun started to get lost behind the gray cover, thinking it might rain you guys out; the team slowed on drills, looking to coach and back at the sky. Coach stands up to his full height, his powerful form casting a shadow over the field. Deep and commanding, his voice brought the team's eyes and attention to him. 

"I've high expectations for my team; this isn't just any season. I have my sights set on the championship title, and we won't settle for anything less." Clapping his hands, you can hear the friction of him rubbing the skin together, his tattooed fingers lacing and curling over each other in a frenzy. A low rumble of thunder sounded from the sky; Coach Cerulli pursed his lips and looked at the foreboding weather.

 "One scrimmage, and we'll call it a night."

The team scrambled to their gear as he called out names and positions. You adjusted your cap, pulling loose strands of hair around your ears and reaching for your glove when the coach's voice called out your name.

"y/l/n. You're batting." There was no nonsense in his voice, and when you turned to protest, he smacked his gum between his teeth, heading to stand behind home plate. 

You never bat, at least not first; the pressure is too much. You were a fielder on the team with the best reflexes and speed. Others were better at this than you. Grabbing the bat, you lower your cap and head to the base. Coach is droning on about how he demands perfection from all players.

"We won't be putting people in places of their strength. I want you uncomfortable; it's the only way you grow." He turns to look at you and nods his head. Stepping up to the plate, you take your spot, raising your bat, eyes locked on Sammi, who is pitching. She gives you a look of pity, and you know she'll take it easy on you, at least. 

"Bat up." Coach growls. 

"It is up," you snap back. 

"If 'up' means hanging off your shoulder. It needs to be up higher. Fix your grip." 

You tighten your hands on the bat's base, nails nearly touching your palms as your hands turn white.

"Too tight, you're not strangling it." 

You huff out the air in your lungs, rolling your eyes. Just let me hit the ball, goddamnit. 

Sammi pitches the ball. It's a simple pitch, and you swing, barely ticking the ball; it doesn't even get air, hardly leaving the home base as it rolls back to her. Just great, I look like a peewee player in front of the coach. 

"Jenson, if you're gonna pitch. Pitch." he snaps. 

You watch as her face turns apologetic; great, no easy out this time.

"Fix your stance." a smack of his gum between his teeth follows his command. You can hear the wet smacking sounds, throwing you off concentration. He continues to throw useless advice your way each time you miss the ball. 

"You're off center."

Your patience is running thin, and you can see the players on the field becoming bored from the lack of action, just standing in the field and talking back and forth. 

"Ladies, look alive!" Coach booms, and they jump into their stance. 

Sammi nods at you, winding up to pitch; you lose all of the coach's advice, squaring up how you want. The swing is powerful, but the ball still whooshes by your bat and hits the fence behind the coach. 

You let the air out of your lungs, turning around to see Coach Cerulli looking right at you, arms crossed over his torso. You can see his brown eyes sparkling under his ball cap. 

"Nice hit," he says sarcastically. 

Tossing the bat, you walk off the field, tears stinging the back of your eyes and starting to burn your throat. You've had enough for one night. 

You can hear him bark orders to the team as the practice continues without you. Walking from the field, you walked around campus once, then twice; on your second lap, you realized you were halfway to your dorm and didn't have any of your gear. Your hands drag down your face in frustration, pushing your cap off your head. Your hair is sticky as you put the cap between your teeth and readjust the ponytail. Throwing the cap back on your head, you turn on your heel and head back to the field. 

Making your way back, you pass several teammates; keeping your cap down, you avoid their eye contact, but the sudden silence as you pass and the sad voices that follow behind your back don't go unnoticed.

Rachel caught sight of you, jogging up to meet you halfway walking backward as you continued your walk of shame to the field. 

"What's up? You walked off?" She has such sadness in her voice. She knows that you are sometimes too hard on yourself. You only have a little social life between studies and sports; your trip out of state lets you loosen up and gives you a good one-night stand. But it made you realize how much you hated having unsatisfactory sex with some drunk frat boy. 

"Rough time, that's all," you confess.

"I know you hate batting. I'm sorry." you only shrug your shoulders in response.

Coach Cerulli is tossing bags of extra bats and gloves next to the storage shed; the way he lifts the gear bag, throwing it over his shoulder, you catch his shirt ride up just a bit to reveal his tattooed torso.

"Need me to wait?" Rachel asks, offering a soft touch on your shoulder. 

"No. I got this." She jogs back to the campus as you enter the field. Turning at the dugout, not meeting the coach's eyes as he looks your way.

You are gathering your gear in your bag, trying not to make eye contact with the coach. The thunder is rumbling overhead again, closer than before; you can smell the rain coming. A heavy set of footsteps, and suddenly, he's clearing his throat behind you, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Sorry, coach." You keep your voice low and sincere. Feeling the pain in your throat again. Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"What's up with you out there?" The way he sounds less demanding, and the friendly tone in his words makes a lump form in your throat.

"I just get choked up."

"Why, you're here on a scholarship. Adams said you were the most dedicated player."

"And I am." You don't bother turning around. Tossing your glove and a few extra things into your bag.

"Didn't look like it today."

"People aren't perfect; not everyone can play every position you know." You turn around to face him; he's leaning against the dugout rail, ankles crossed, hands resting on the dark blue rail. 

"So, what is it that holds you back?"

"I just…. It's the crowd, the ump, and the pressure. The crowd is watching me, the team is watching me, and you're watching me." He adjusts his cap, turning his head to spit his gum out in the grass. 

"Grab your bat."

"What?" He kicks off the rail, stopping till he is only a foot in front of you. 

"You heard me. Grab your bat."

You scrambled for the bat as he walked back onto the field. You follow close behind, with no other teammates around the field that looks like it goes on for miles. Taking up your space next to home, you get ready to bat. 

You are barely set before he criticizes you. 

"Okay, first, your grip is too much." He stepped forward, putting his hands over yours, pulling your fingers loose from the neck, his large hands encasing your own as he helped re-grip the bat properly.

"Loosen up, spread your hands out a bit. There," the last word comes out as a soft whisper.

His brown eyes softened as he looked into your face, calloused hands brushing your skin; they were surprisingly well taken care of, the tattoos accenting every knuckle. The sweet smell of wintergreen off his breath, the fragrance winding up your insides. 

"Your feet," he circled around till he was standing behind you, twisting your body around till you could see him again; he tsked, circling the air with his finger for you to return to where you were.

 "You're always on your toes,” he complained.

His words were almost lost to the electricity in your brain; he squatted down behind you, one arm sliding between your legs to wrap around your thigh, a hand bracing on your knee, as his other massaged down my calf to have your heel flatten on the ground. 

"Now, for your hips." Coach's words sound scratchy; you can hear him swallow hard behind you. His hands ghost over your hips, carefully not to actually touch you. "You must bend at the waist and practically fold yourself in half."

"Arch my back?" you offer. He clears his throat the way it sounded like he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah, sounds about right." 

You adjust your hips arching your back, with your feet firmly planted against the ground, your cleats into the dirt, pushing your ass back. You feel yourself brush against his body, and he hisses.

"Easy there, tiger." 

"S-s-sorry." you stammer as you try to step back. His hands grab your hips and place you back in your stance. His body is so close you can feel the heat building on your skin; suddenly, you aren't distracted by nerves but by something else. 

"We aren't done; just watch it," he whispers. "You want to keep yourself firm in this spot until you're ready to swing."

A drop of warm water hits your arm, then another, and another. The rain starts to pour down in a gentle storm. 

"Shit." Coach releases your hips as you both jog back to the dugout. Safe under the awning, you lose footing on the last step, stumbling into the coach. He catches you, arms around your waist, as he stumbles back.

"Sorry," your voice barely audible over the rain tapping on the metal awning; you place your hands on his chest, feeling the stiff muscles underneath. Trying to push off to create distance between the two of you. Coach Cerulli's hands don't move as he looks down at you, those dark eyes glistening under the shadow of his cap. This close to him, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of him-palo santo and amber, a rich blend like a robust coffee in one of those expensive coffee shops. 

His hands slid up your back, gently caressing over the upper part of your arms, stopping at your wrists and taking them in a grip before pulling your hands off his chest.

"Let's work on your hips some more. It looks like we've got the time." The way he says the words suggests he doesn’t mean anything about batting anymore. 

He spun you around so seamlessly, releasing your wrists to take your hips in the vice grip of his tattooed fingers. Pulling your body toward him, you could feel yourself make contact with his chest; he was so tall, the feeling of what was unmistakably his own arousal resting at your lower back. 

Flames licked into your lower belly as his hands tightened, then loosened on your hips. He started to move you, sliding your hips from left to right in slow motions. "Keep your feet planted on the floor." The harsh whisper in your ear made every part of your skin tremble with anticipation. 

You tried to steady your breathing as he moved you in slow motion against his body. Was this all a dream? Were you asleep in physics and about to be highly embarrassed when you woke up?

Your hands rested on his, trying to prove to yourself that all that was happening was real. Leaning back into his chest, he groaned as he pulled you in closer. 

"This is so wrong." your voice trembles as you speak.

"Very," he growled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck. "Tell me to stop, and I will." 

Fuck, please don't.

It wasn't a good idea to continue, but the feeling, the expert way his hands held you without touching anything intimate, made you melt. 

Leaning your head back into his chest, your face turned to him, desperate for his kiss. Sensing your desperation, Coach took the bill of his hat between two fingers, spinning the cap on his head so it faced backward. Closing in on your face, his full lips consuming your own, two fingers brushing your cheek, tapping twice, asking you to open. 

The second your jaw relaxed into the kiss, his tongue was assaulting your own. He tasted so good, that gum he'd been chewing and something nutty at the end filling your taste buds. 

You let your arm snake behind his head, cupping the back of his neck to bring him closer. One of his hands takes your breast and squeezes the flesh through your clothes, your nipples sensitive to the touch even through all the layers. His other hand slides over the front of your shorts, pushing between your thighs; your hips start to grind into his hand, desperate for friction, earning a sound of approval from the coach.

Pulling apart from each other, lips wet, red, and swollen, you were panting to catch all the air you'd lost in the kiss. 

"Brace yourself, tiger," he warned. 

Pushing hard against you, he shoved you forward till you folded over against the railing, his body pressed tightly against yours. Forcing your hands to grip the rail.

"Remember your grip." he teased, releasing his hold. His hands slid slowly down your sides, thumbs hooking into the band of your shorts to tug them and your panties down to your ankles. You gasped being exposed like this, the adrenaline of being caught coursing through your blood, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

He kicked your feet apart, having your legs spread till you could feel the resistance of your shorts tight around your ankles. He took your hips in his hands, bringing your ass against him again, "Remember your stance." the words going straight to your center as he nipped at your ear. 

His hands disappeared, and you let out a whine from losing his touch. He shuffled behind you, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to place soft kisses on your pulse point. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and feeling the muscles quiver under his fingers, you paused to consider what you were doing, your mind telling you that this was wrong. You'd get caught, and you'd be a disappointment to your parents. The thoughts of calling it off stopped when two fingers slid inside your warmth. His fingers scissored open and closed, swirling around before opening and closing again, stretching your walls with expert skills.

"So tight." He continued to whisper dark and dirty words as his fingers buried into you to the knuckle. The rough pressure pushes you forward and off your heels. Feeling your release boiling just under the surface, you start to grind down on his fingers as they thrust up into you, whimpering for more. You have started to lean over the rail, seeing the field's dirt and glancing down more to see both your feet and his. His pants at his ankles like yours, and the thought that his cock was out and ready for you, made you moan. 

He wraps his hand around your hair, still pulled into a ponytail under your cap; rolling the strands around his hand, tugging you back so his chest is pressed tight to your back, fingers still buried deep inside you.

"Say the word, and I'll stop."

Past the point of no return, you moan, rolling your hips into his hands, still chasing your release. He presses his face into your cheek, nose running through the hairline above your ear as he inhales your scent; it's feral, it's animalistic, it's so fucking hot. His lips press into your ear, and you feel his hot breath against her skin. "You gonna come for me, tiger?"

You barely managed to nod your head before he curled his fingers, pressing on that soft spot inside you, making your walls clench around his fingers. He lets out a strangled sound of approval and surprise, taking the slick of your orgasm to rub on his erection. His left hand cupped your ass before delivering a harsh slap to the skin, making you rock up onto your toes. 

He slides his length between your thighs, coating the head in everything left of your orgasm. Muscles in his chest are tight with anticipation and what you hope is desire. "Listen carefully, tiger," his voice breathless as he pants in your ear. "This is the only time I want you on your toes for me. Got it."

"Yes, coach." you gasp as his length slides into your warm center. He pumps slowly as you stretch around him, the hiss from your lips echoing across the field through the rain. "F-f-fuck." you moan. 

Bottoming out with hard thrusts, Coach's hands rested on the railing on top of yours, his fingers lacing between yours as he held you and the rail in a vice grip. Your bodies molded into each other so well you felt the hem of his jersey wrap around your thighs; god, if only you could take it home with you as a trophy for this. 

"I should stop," he was panting, his voice strained. "I'm gonna get fired." 

"Please," you begged, turning your head to see his beautiful flushed face, mouth agape, tufts of his black hair sticking out from under his cap. "I won't say anything, just please don't stop." 

"Fuck." he groaned, continuing to thrust into you, the force pushing you practically over the rail still on your toes, the muscles in your calves straining. Your thighs shook, the rain coming to an end as another tight coil wrapped itself in your belly, ready to snap.

"One more, give me one more, tiger," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. The scream as you clenched around him echoed off the field, causing him to clasp a hand over your mouth. "That's it. Scream for me." 

Your noises were muffled by his hand on your mouth, and the hot breath as he panted on your cheek brought another orgasm on the wave of the first. One final snap of his hips and warm ropes filled your body, and all the tension of his muscles was released in one minute. 

The magic of whatever you two did was gone when he pulled his softened cock from you, reaching down to pull up your shorts and letting you get them back on the rest of the way; you barely turned around, seeing him taking a little bounce to get back into his jeans. 

"Head out, tiger. I'll see you at tomorrow's practice." 

You nod briefly, grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and bat in the other hand. Just as you are about to leave the field, you turn around to see Coach sitting on the bench in the dugout, hands running through his sweaty black hair. 

"Coach?" you let the rasp fall off your tongue, and he turns to look your way. "Extra practice tomorrow night?" giving a wink to let him know what you mean. He doesn't skip a beat, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"It'll be a late practice. You game?"

"Anything for you, coach." you leave the comment in the air as you walk back to your dorm. 

Crashing into your dorm with shaky legs, you throw down your gear. 

"Whoa." Rachel commented, "You look brutal!"

"Thanks," you meekly respond, flopping onto the bed before curling up under the blanket. 

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?" you mumbled, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

"Coach. You look like he had you do suicides for leaving the field?"

"Nothing gets past you, Rach." you smiled as your body drifted to sleep. 

Several months later, and one game win thanks to you and a home run hit, Coach Cerulli announced his retirement. Disappointed but not surprised you accepted the new coach with open arms. She was sweet and spicy, a good coach, making your focus back on the game. The rumors were Coach moved states, you’d had his number but the digits disconnected a few weeks after his departure. 

Just as well, you thought.

 It was almost winter break, and a final due in Psychology had kept you up most nights, your body riddled with tension from the stress. 10 p.m., and you hadn't even bothered to try and sleep yet, your phone buzzed with a new text. Opening it up, it was a number you didn't recognize, but the message was clear. 

How you been, tiger?

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Random tangent but Johnkat never happening in Homestuck is so important to me

Karkat having a genuine canonical crush on John and it not being reciprocated but rather met with a genuine request of friendship that he can’t emotionally process, that’s so important to me

John being canonically heterosexual (or at least attracted to women specifically, in regards to June’s later existence) is so important to me, because it builds up the dynamics around him

Both Karkat and Dave have crushes on John in the beginning, and John is incapable of meeting those feelings with equal value. It’s the same situation that Dirk is in, where he really greatly values Roxy and wants to give her the world, but he’s not attracted to girls and can’t be what he wants to be for her. He literally says this in an Act 6 monologue!

And John does love Dave and Karkat, and he values their friendship and constantly misses them during Act 6. But he’s not romantically attracted to them, and doesn’t even consider ever being that. He considers dating Rose, Vriska, Roxy, and Terezi throughout the story but when he learns of Karkat’s crush, he reluctantly turns him down. It’s kind of like that Ace Attorney quote where Larry says something like “sorry Nick, as much as I try I’m just not into men”

And that’s kinda important to me. I like John as that token straight guy in the main story. He’s the bridge for the old-internet culture into the new one, where LGBTQIA+ topics are more openly discussed and acknowledged. John’s blank slate “cishet white boy swag” makes him the perfect vessel for an introduction to the discussion of homosexuality (headcanons notwithstanding)

And John being this bridge allows others to consider their options. Like rays of light, they bounce off him to understand themselves (especially Vriska). Dave struggles with his internalized homophobia and simultaneous crush on John until he can talk to Karkat, who relates to him for having the exact same crush! Plus, they both liked Jade and Terezi for a while too, so they had a lot to relate to. And Karkat has never understood gender exclusivity as a concept, so he kind of had the opposite arc to Dave in a way

And it’s all because John rejected them. That’s why seeing mlm John ships kinda irk me, because the whole point of his character is being not gay in this context. To me, it’s like if you paired a canonical aromantic character in a romantic ship, or a canonical lesbian in a flm ship. John being straight is just important to me for these reasons

This post is not really about June Egbert btw, but I do acknowledge her as a secondary stage of the “Egbert progressional character arc” much like Dave’s bisexual awakening. June Egbert being transfemme does not take away from how important everything I just said about John is, it just adds a new layer of growth to the character