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thriftedtchotchkes · 2 years ago

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keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller

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kalki-tarot · 1 year ago

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CHANNELED LOVE LETTER FROM FUTURE SPOUSE ♡

my readings are for entertainment purposes only! tarot is a divination tool. it is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please be mindful of your own choices and actions ♡

PILE 1

Hello beautiful/handsome,

I saw you in the party, where everyone was busy with themselves, with their own groups. And you, you were sitting alone, pouring your own drink. You looked very beautiful to me. Just like a queen/king. Your straightforwardness and dominant behavior, is what I love the most. I crave you, dear. Oh. I can literally fight to win you. You are just like a prize. You have your priorities clear. Even if it's a run and chase, I'll follow you everywhere till my heart stops and i die.

You are very career oriented, you don't bs unnecessarily. I love your perception of life. I love how you stand up for yourself, even if you're alone. You are just like a Queen to me. You seem very distant, as if you're lost in your dreams. You have that dreamy side of yours too? I don't know. I just observe you from afar. You give me such soothing vibes, I just love being around you.

You make me forget my miseries. I love how you don't do wrong to anyone. You are very compassionate and loving. You can give love to even non living objects. You're so full of love. That makes me wanna love you, even more. Sweetheart. I love you. I want to pursue you, i want to make you mine. Do you think the same? Do you love me just the way I love you? I'm waiting for your answer.

Yours faithfully,

Love.

PILE 2

I don't have the right words to truly express what I feel. I'm not in a good place right now. It feels as if everyone has given up on me. I'm sorry if I'm I'm making you uncomfortable but certain situations are out of my hands. I feel left out in the cold. I have the responsibility of my family on my shoulders. I'm trying to make fast changes. I'm trying to do everything on my own.

I'm very repressive of my emotions. I was not taught how to deal with them. Sometimes I try to run away from life. But then I get reminded of you. I look at the night's sky, full of stars and I wonder maybe you are like a star too. Lightening the dark and cold world with compassion and warmth. You give me true strength. And I'm forever grateful for your presence in my life. I'm holding onto a lot of things right now. I know i should let everything free, even myself. It's okay to make mistakes, right?

After every storm, there is a deep silence. Where everything remains silent, destroyed and out of control. No matter what life throws at me, I'll come back to you with ten times more strength, power & especially love and respect for you. It's life after all, right? Everything comes and goes. Maybe these times will pass? But I'll love you more with each passing moment for sure.

Yours Only Forever

💗

PILE 3

I have too much of love and wealth. And that too much is being sucked off by others. I don't know what to do. Money can't buy love, sweetheart. I'm in a toxic relationship. They are taking away my everything. Literally everything.

I don't remember the last time I laughed. The money I earned through hard work, the morals and kindness my family taught me, everything is in vain. Everything is slowly leaving my body. I feel empty from inside. This person is taking away it all.

But I'm working hard, more hard, harder than even. So that I can provide you a better lifestyle. I can't expect anything from anyone. I have to do it all alone. Please remember me in your prayers. I'm afraid to let go. Everything is being taken away from me. I don't know what to do, I'm confused. I'm not sure which road to take. I believe the universe will guide me where I'm supposed to be, near you. I'm depressed nowadays. Very hopeless.

But I'm doing whatever i can do right now. I'm unable to even sleep at night. They lied to me. They deceived me. They were my life partner, but there was nothing "life-like" with them. It was just a relationship built on money. And you know how these type of things end. There is no emotion left in me. I'm blank. I don't know. They left me in the middle of the road.

PILE 4

Hello pretty soul ♡

You know what? I see you every where. Whenever I go, wherever I go. I see you, i get reminded of you, by the flowers, the clovers, the river, the clouds and even the sun! You are a beautiful and positive person! You are such a great fighter! Whatever obstacles comes between our happiness, you remove it all. I get so happy and optimistic near you, my love. I'll fight with literally anyone for you, just for you.

You bring absolute calmness and peace into my chaotic life. You are a sweet breeze flowing softly over my cheeks on a warm, sunny day making me blush. I want to take care of you and love you for eternity. I want to offer you all the love that I have inside me, just for you babygirl/boy. I want to experience new things with you everyday. You make my life feel lively. ✨️

Dear, sometimes I too get lost in my past, that was not, unfortunately that happy for sure. I got lied to, i was betrayed by someone I called mine. I can't sleep properly due to this. I get nightmares and I get so f*king scared. I feel anxious and uncomfortable. But the good news is! I'm forgetting it day by day. Just a little progress makes it a whole lot of progress. I don't want to remember all these with you. I'm working hard, I'm moving forward. And i hope you're too <3

By,

Your one and only . ❤️

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bnecaz · 6 months ago

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thinking about Lapdog Art who whines a lotttt he was whimpering and is hoarse from begging so much

Hi anon!! I was thinking about this for a few weeks and I finally got around to writing down my thoughts!!

Warnings: +18 smut, sub sub subb art, pet names, blowjob(?) premature ejaculation, lapdog art and practically what anon wrote, plus it's long!! :3

Thinking about art training hard every day, waking up early every day and not even having time to send you a message because tashi took his phone on purpose so he could train because this opening was very important for his career, so he was exhausted, he trained more than his body could handle and he was so fucking sore

he called you to his house early in the morning, everyone was asleep and he was waiting for you in front of his house, his pupils dilating when he saw you walking towards him, the tips of his finger turning white from squeezing

when you arrived close to him he wasted no time, kissing you calmly at first, then his tongue poked your lips, asking for silent permission that you quickly accepted, then his hands began to freely roam your body, going down to your tiny skirt that he handpicked for you to use, taking the smallest size because he knew that when you walked he would have a full view of your butt

his fingers grabbing your buttocks as if it would save your life from death, as he starts to whimper against your lips, kissing you so sloppily that drool was dripping down your chin, his fingers going to the strap of your blouse, slowly lowering them almost tripping

His kisses start moving down to your neck, giving open mouth kisses, he looked desperate, his bulge was very visible in his shorts, he was rubbing himself against your thigh, trying to get some friction on your thigh

his lips quickly descending to one of your breasts, putting it in him mouth it in an instant, his tongue circling the hardened nipple while squeezing and massaging the other

You could tell he was trying hard not to whimper at the sight in front of him, of him biting his lip as he guided both sides of your hips, rubbing you against his bulge

You haven't even left the front door of his house and he's rubbing himself against your thigh, hard as a rock

"Missed you," he pouts, drawing the syllables out like a whining little puppy. He's nuzzling his face against your neck, lips and teeth just about everywhere they can be, marking and nipping as his hands grasp desperately at your waist. He's trying to meld himself against you, like he's really, really trying to become one with you.

He mumbles something incoherent into your skin, and the ache in his shorts digs against your thigh, hot and hard and unnecessarily needy.

"I didn't even leave the front door baby" you try to murmur which he then visibly complains about

You almost feel sorry for how stupid he seems now, almost. You gently bring your lips to his and kiss him

He's sighing blissfully, tilting his face up to meet your kiss with parted, so greedy lips. Soft sighs are slipping off his tongue in a way that's only for you, and his hands are all over you, grasping and holding on like you're gonna slip from his hold.

He's pulling you into the apartment, pressing you roughly back against the door. His hips are flush against yours, a hard, aching bulge digging into your skin. Art's whining he sounds wanton and needy, desperate for more, as his tongue licks its way into your mouth.

He's panting against your lips, tongue flicking needily into your mouth. He's shivering in your grip, trying to grind into your hand as he whimpers out your name

His whole body is flush against yours, strong hands grasping at your hips and holding you right there, against him. One of his legs has even slipped between your thighs, shifting back and forth in small, aching friction.

"Baby" He's mewling, panting and breathless and desperate for more, he is always

You decide to tease him a little and pull away from his mouth, making him whimper "Stupid puppy" you whisper in his ear

He's whining at the name, his face burning in a way that makes it obvious he loves it. Big, wide puppy dog eyes fluttering open to look at you through dark lashes, and all you can see in them is need.

"Stop calling me names," He mumbles, and the way he's panting, grinding back and forth against your hand? It's obvious that he's actually not really all that bothered by the name.

You lower your hand to his dick and gently squeeze, palming it

He's groaning into your mouth, body shivering as your hand squeezes the aching, hard arousal in his pants. His hips are pressing flush into your touch like he's trying to grind himself into your hand

He tastes like the sweet nectar of honey, tongue licking into your mouth in a way that's needy and sloppy

And in a minute his lips are on your neck again, leaving marks and bites that would be very visible

He’s groaning against your neck, breath hitching at the question. He’s biting down on his lip so hard it’s turned white, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tries not to beg

He’s panting and whimpering, tongue flicking out to taste your skin while his hand slides up to tangle into your hair

When you moved away from his lap to crouch down he instinctively groaned in disapproval, moaning again pathetically, hips arching into the air trying to reach more of you, his hands go to the back of your head, his fingers digging into the back of your neck as he pathetically tries to get you closer to his throbbing cock

He’s shuddering when you give a kiss on his cock dressed, hips arching into your touch like he’s desperate for it. “Baby” He’s whispering, mouth open and eyes wide, like he can’t even breathe when you’re touching him like this.

His hands are grabbing at your hair, and the muscle in his thighs is tensing as you move down. “Please, please, I need you,” He pants

“Where”

He’s whimpering in response, his hands grabbing at your hair while his hips arch up like he’s trying to force you somewhere. “Anywhere, baby, anywhere,” He mumbles, breath hitching with the words.

“Please, need you so bad… need to touch you,” He’s whimpering, face flushed and red and cute. The look in his eyes is downright desperate.

And just when you think it was bad, when you finally put just the tip of it in your mouth, it's wild, I can imagine his dick swollen, the tip leaking precum and very red

and I'm the biggest confidant and I'll never give up on the idea of art cumming too quickly when he's needy, no one will be able to change my mind, as he's whining and squeezing the back of your head so hard that you swear he's going to pull your hair out, the Their eyes are rolling back and if it were possible they would go to the back of his head, and with one final thrust he cums so quickly, and he just passes out there and doesn't give you time to at least tease him!!

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darknesscreepin · 5 months ago

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haku shota | h.st

warnings: perv!shota, breeding kink, cumming in pants, little bit of exhibitionism.

perv!shota who has been obsessed with you since you let him borrow a pencil in class one day. turning around to hand him the utensil with a kind smile on your face, your hand accidentally grazing his in the process. he immediately was enraptured by your every move.

perv!shota who was so happy that he sat behind you because the smell of your perfume would waft directly in his direction— “thank god for the air conditioning.” he would think to himself as he inhaled your air. he would purposely make his way to class faster so he could smell your scent when you sat down. it was most prominent then.

perv!shota who made it his goal to befriend you. you were a little wary of him at first— i mean the kid had no friends. he was always making weird, unintelligible noises that made people look at him sideways, but with time you found his quirks adorable. the little alien language he sometimes communicated in, always pulled a laugh from you and shota’s heart would race. sometimes he would purposely exaggerate the things he did just to hear you giggle.

perv!shota that made sure to stay near you during your shared graduation party. you had suggested the idea after hearing he was going to play games after the big day. “come on sho, you can’t spend all day playing minecraft! let’s just merge the day for us, it’s fine i swear. it’ll be so fun!” all shota registered was us he was immediately on board. throughout the party he would follow you around, extremely close behind you that he’d have to stop himself from tripping. he just wanted to feel the curve of your ass graze against his clothed dick. you were so busy greeting everyone with a smile on your face, that you didn’t feel the sensation of the bleach haired boy just barely grinding against you.

perv!shota that invited you out for ice cream and you happily accepted. it was a sweltering day and you were finally free, it had been so long since you had seen your friend. did shota intentionally wait to call you to hang out on one of the hottest days of the week? yes. he knew you’d wear something more revealing to avoid being unnecessarily hot—and you did. a baby blue maxi skirt falling against your legs, and a black tank top that hugged your tits so nicely. how could shota not stare?

perv!shota who insisted on sitting outside in the blistering heat. “it’s such a nice day, y/n, c’mon!” you reluctantly agreed and the two of you made your way to a table. shota would offer you a taste of his ice cream in a cup. the spoon making it’s way into your mouth made shota breathe heavier. he hurriedly took the utensil from you, taking another bite so he could have your leftover saliva from the spoon is his mouth. you did the friendly thing and also motioned your ice cream cone towards the boy. he felt his cock twitch in his pants. holding the cold treat to his mouth, he took a few meekish licks and handed it back to you. he also made sure to film a video of you licking the rapidly melting ice cream from your arm, because it was “so funny.” little did you know he’d cum untouched to the video that night, imagining your arm was his cock and you were licking cum from it.

perv!shota who would regularly find himself on your insta, palming himself through his boxers. he was currently looking at an innocent photo of you clinking your glass with a friend’s. to shota it was so much more. his favorite trait of yours, your breasts, were perfectly exposed in the pastel yellow sundress you wore. he wanted to have your hard nipples in front of him, and wrap his pretty pink lips around your huge tits. the thought made the sick boy slide his hand under his briefs and firmly grip his leaking dick. so much precum dripping from his mushroom head. the image of your lips being smeared in the substance oftentimes made it’s way into shota’s head, you wearing it like a lipgloss. he slicked his length with the man made lube and he barely lasted a minute. cum leaking through his boxers, only getting in five proper strokes.

perv!shota who watched too much hentai. he had adapted such vulgar kinks from the porn. one of his favorite things was imagining breeding your cunt. filling you up with so much of his cum—he had so much of it to give, and he only wanted to share it with you. trying his best to place your face in his mind as he watched cum leak from an animated character’s pussy. oh how he wished he could do those things with you.

perv!shota who would rut against his pillow and loudly moan, not a care in the world. his room smelled just like you and he was getting high off the smell. last time he visited your house, he made sure to snatch one of your perfumes. spritzing it around his room before he straddled the cotton filled pillow. his cock would just leak and he wondered if you would let him cum or not. wondered if you’d stop being his friend if you ever found out how much of a slut he was for you. you’d probably look at him in so much disgust, that only turned him on more, leading to his orgasm. “sorry y/n.” he whispers as he slowly continued to grind his hips, riding out his high.

perv!shota who was such a pervert for you, couldn’t help but want to be your boyfriend. he knew you would never want to be associated with him if you ever knew what he was really like.

#sub!idol #sub!p1harmony #p1harmony #sub!soul #haku shota #sub!hakushota #kpop smut #soul p1harmony #kpop #sub!kpop #ithinkshotaisahugepervngl

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k-hotchoisan · 1 year ago

Note

hii just wanted to say i love your writing and youre sooo good at describing stuff 😭😭

could u do a yunho oneshot based on or inspired by the song under the influence by chris brown? 🫠🫠🫠

Of course princess! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO SWEET iM BLUSHING \(//∇//)\ + requesting this lil prompt hohoho 😮‍💨🌶️❤️

Also that’s a rEALLY good song for Yunho 😏😏

Enjoy ✨

Synopsis: where Yunho realises he doesn’t need tussin to get high when he can get high off fucking you.

Word count: 2.1K

Genre/Warnings: fuck buddies but feelings are there just in denial, Drabble, one shot, smut, pwp, sexual brain rot, !mentioned drug use for medical purposes (please DO NOT take cough syrups unnecessarily + keeping his dose AS MINIMAL as possible), riding, praise kink, yunho’s big fucking cock, multiple orgasms, cream pies, squirting, you and Yunho are so fucking whipped for each other actually.

The world around Yunho spins as he feels pretty fucked and heavy from the tussin. He intended to take molly after that to prepare for the party, but the codeine fucking hits him, and it was only slight dose above the usual 10ml he takes for his coughs, not that he wanted to, so he decides to forgo the other drugs for another party or something. He felt pretty fucking high, but at least his irritating burning throat is suppressed.

He doesn’t want to let it override his consciousness—not yet, especially not when he sees your silhouette walking over to him, and when you come into view, you were just in his oversized tank, your legs bare, fresh out of his shower.

Yunho’s breaths grow heavier, as the only thing swimming through his mind was wanting to fuck you into whatever the nearest furniture was. His cock twitches underneath his sweats just thinking about it.

His heart races, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the syrup or because you’re just there—just drying your hair with one of his towels he lent you—he watches as drops of water falls from the tips of your fringe right onto your collarbone, as it slides down right into the dip of your cleavage. This just kills whatever Yunho was trying to rationale in his head as he swallows hard. He knows he’s fucking whipped for you, he just doesn’t want to fucking admit it.

You plop beside him as you leave the towel on a back of a chair. You move forward to pick up the remote control to flip through the channels, but Yunho stops you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but once your eyes meet his, his eyes looks pretty glazed.

“Yunho, are you crying?” You ask, still confused at first until your gaze glances at the coffee table, noticing the bottle of tussin on the coffee table.

There we go.

By the time you realigned your focus on him, Yunho is just staring right at your cleavage, like the fucking pervert he is.

“Your cough acting up again?” You ask again, since he doesn’t reply, but this time he responds, nodding slowly with his eyes shut.

“Do you need lozenges?” You offer, ready to dig through his apartment cabinets because you know he has them there, somewhere.

“I need to fuck you”, he replies, his eyes just tunnelling to you. You blink at him in disbelief before a smile cracks your face.

“Do you?” You tease.

He nods frantically. Your eyes lower to his crotch, and shit, it was stained, and there was definitely his cock just pressing so painfully against the fabric. And it doesn’t make your case any better.

His hands travel to your waist as he pulls you over to straddle his lap. You don’t want to let him know your panties were starting to soak through but the moment you attempted to avoid sitting anywhere his crotch, he already knows, because he pulls you in, and makes sure his clothed dick is sitting right below your cunt.

His hands snake to the back of your head as he pulls you in for a sloppy, deep kiss. You taste the sickeningly sweet favour of the cough syrup but the way he’s groaning in your mouth, desperate for your taste, only excites you even more. It‘s the only thing he craves.

Fuck buddies, yeah right. It was definitely developing more than that. At first it was just all fun and games, and as the both of begin to meet more often, it became a unanimous and unspoken decision to be exclusive fuck buddies, because it seemed that no one else was as compatible as the both of you were for each other.

His fingers find your nipples under the loose tank top and it almost sends him in a frenzy. He loves how your nipples are hardening instantaneously under his touch and your soft moans are just melody to his ears.

He can’t wait because it’s getting too painful for him, especially when he’s under the influence. He pushes you aside for a moment to pull off his sweats, and as you cock your eyebrow in surprise when you realise he wasn’t wearing underwear. The hem of his sweats brush against his hard and leaking cock, and a whimper leaves his lips, as more precum oozes out from his tip. Holy shit, he’s really sensitive.

Your panties are swiftly removed by him when his attention turns to you. He doesn’t want to be rough with you, and he usually isn’t, but as he’s fighting against the high, it’s taking all of his strength not to be feral with you.

And you’re back straddling his lap, just wanting to tease him a little more, since you love seeing him in this state—he almost begging to fuck you, especially since both your bare sex are just brushing against each other.

“Y/n, please. Fuck. Let me fuck you, please”, he whimpers, stroking his cock with his long and pretty fingers against your leaking cunt.

You don’t reply, but your hands are flat on each sides his shoulder; as you lower yourself down onto his thick ass cock. You sigh as he buries himself into you, and your thighs tremble from how much his thick cock is stretching you out. Yunho, on the other hand, is barely keeping it together, because the moment his tip goes in, his sigh develops into a full blown, long drawn moan as more him penetrates into you.

“Ffffuckkkkk”, his octaves go up pitch, face nuzzling against your neck, nipping at your neck and shoulders. “Why the fuck do you always feel so fucking good, y/n?”

Your only response to him is another lift from your hips before slamming down—sending your mind into a spiral of pleasure as your eyes roll back. You catch your breath to peak at Yunho’s reaction, and boy, is he already fucked out of his mind at the second stroke, evident by the blush on his cheeks and the way he’s panting so hard, mixed with his whines and whimpers.

His hands are gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave light red imprints, that’s for sure. Everything for Yunho is enhanced, no thanks to mixture, so the pleasure he feels is probably up by ten notches at least.

You start rocking your hips, as Yunho’s dickgrinds against your tight walls, sending a fuckton of pleasing signals across your body, absolutely fucking euphoric, considering how much his cockhead is pressing so disgustingly good deep inside you, and how his cock is bulging a little from how big he is. Not only was he erect, he was high and erect, and it’s the first time you feel so fucking full of his cock, right up to the brim—that was how aroused this fucker was.

Yunho’s head falls back onto the back of couch, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck, and the other tightening against the sheer fabric of your top. He can’t help himself from doing it—bucking his hips up to meet yours, making you full on bounce on his cock, causing your whines to turn into screams within seconds.

“That’s it, keep doing that. Fuck. So fucking good”, he doesn’t realise that he’s doing it himself, which amuses you but your sanity is slowly being ripped away at every thrust he pushes into you.

“God, imagine if we filmed this, that would be the best fucking sex tape. I would cum, over, and over again just remembering how much your pussy is squeezing me out like this”, he suddenly says, and that goes directly to your pussy, which causes Yunho to moan at the unintentional action.

As much as he was so fucked over, it didn’t seem like he was going to cum any time soon. Was it the influence, the exhaustion? You aren’t very sure but that is the last thing that shifts to your mind, especially when Yunho is fucking you from below so desperately.

The knot in your stomach tugs as your orgasm builds at every time Yunho’s cockhead pushes against your g-spot. His eyes are now locked onto yours, and he knows you’re close just from the way you’re twitching around his length, like he always does. He licks a stripe up his thumb and trails it down to your clit as you adjust yourself on him, and he never breaks eye contact. If anything, there’s probably a hint of pride that flashes in his eyes—he knows every part of your body, as if it’s his, and sometimes that fucking scares you because the both of you were only but just fuck buddies, and that’s what you constantly reminded yourself.

He presses his thumb on your clit as he gently pushes you back, exposing the pornographic scene before him—his cock just sinking in and out of your sopping cunt. He rubs against your clit as his free hand snakes up to your hips to push you, and his breathing shallows every time he sees his cock emerge from your abused hole, before he pulls you back in and your cunt just swallowing his cock whole.

Don’t even get him started with the noise the sex was making.

And the more he stimulates your nub, the more you realised you were gonna do more than just cum, because the sensations were getting too much.

“Yunho”, you cry out, your arm clawing against his chest, as you attempt to stop him, lifting your hips. His glazed eyes stare at yours, and his hand is on your shoulders, forcing you to stay seated on his cock like a good girl. Tears are pooling at the corner of your eyes. Fuck. It’s building too rapidly. “Yunho, I-“

“I know. I know. Let it out baby”, he whispers into your ears as he raises his hips once more, fucking so deep into you, and ensuring you feel it all in your clit as well.

“Three.”

Your body begins to go slightly limp as the orgasm is about to hit a fever pitch.

“Two.”

And it fucking burns so fucking good throughout out your body.

“One.”

Your lower abdomen convulses as your orgasm takes you out, you are barely able lift your hips because he’s holding it down as you fucking squirt all over his lower abdomen, as your cunt convulses around his cock as well, and Yunho is fighting with every nerve in his body to keep his eyes open to watch you unwind right in front him— crying about how good it all feels. And that was the moment he realised he just really wants you all for himself.

You slowly come down from your high, the aftershocks of your orgasm still tingling in your cunt. Fuck. Did he really just count you down to your orgasm while he was high? You’ve never felt like this before, in any of the fuck sessions you had with him.

He still isn’t done, because he hasn’t cummed. But this time, he seems really close, especially after watching you squirt so like that, and that, yeah, he was fucking aroused from that, because his cock only stretches you out further.

“Did that feel good?” He asks, his hands cupping your cheek, wiping away the tear stains.

“Fuck. Since when did you learn to do this like that?” You ask back, finding the energy to still continue bouncing on his dick. Every stroke on top of him, you could see the scrunch in his eyebrows accompanied by a groan.

“I know your body like the back of my hand, so why wouldn’t I?” He responds, his hands now on your hips, pressing you down hard on his cock. “Fuck. I don’t think I can-“

Before he finishes his sentence, ropes of thick cum spill into your abused hole, and his voice ups a pitch as moans spill out of his mouth.

“So good. Feels so fucking good”, he cries out, twitching in you, his fingers turning white from how hard he’s gripping your thighs.

And it’s a fuckload of cum, for some reason, that it starts oozing out of your hole while he’s still in you. His whines fill the room as he bottoms out in you. You can’t help but brush his hair back, to get a better look at his face, as he comes down from his orgasmic high. He still looks pretty glazed out, but his gaze never leaves yours as he pants heavily.

And the next words that leave his mouth take you aback.

“Y/n. I like you. Fuck.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez fic #yunho smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho

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jadeazora · 9 months ago

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Manga Spinel! 🤩 (And the others are here too I guess)

Amethio saving Liko! (I know there's a bit of a double purpose since Terapagos is there too and he wants it, but I do like that he will act to protect others from being hurt unnecessarily.)

I loved their tag team. I'm really hoping that Amethio joins up, at least in the final season of the series like Zuko did, because seeing him fight alongside Friede and that they actually had some decent teamwork together was so fucking good 🤩

Sprigatito's evolution into Floragato and that shot of it making a final stand against Rayquaza goes so hard.

He may have been a bit "Oh I only care about the Black Rayquaza and Terapagos," but it's only a matter of time until he's a part of the RVT family, mark my words. 🤭

And that tease for next arc!

(More scans are here by the way.)

#pokemon horizons #pokeani #anipoke #trainer liko #trainer roy #professor friede #pokemon friede #pokemon amethio #pokemon explorers #shiny rayquaza

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etherealily · 3 months ago

Text

🇸🇴🇺🇷 🇨🇦🇳🇩🇾 ~ 🇫🇪🇱🇮🇽 🇨🇦🇹🇹🇴🇳

Felix Catton + fem! reader. SFW, but discretion advised, slightly dark, abuse.

Part 1: Hard Candy

Part 3 : Rock Candy

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : He's only cryptic and machiavellian 'cause he cares. He's sorry, he's so very sorry. But will he say it?

════════════════════ ⋆🐦‍🔥⋆ ════════════════════

END OF SEMESTER

One thing about Felix is that he always got what he wanted.

It both enamored and infuriated you.

Even when the two of you weren't hooking up, both before and even - with much audacity - after, he got away with everything.

He smacked your ass whenever he saw you and everyone laughed it off, because imagine being Felix's certified girl, essentially. Who'd ever complain?

You reached your limit when he grabbed you when you were out with your friends, twirling you around in a gesture that could only be described as disgustingly, unnecessarily romantic, before kissing you.

Pushing him away, you glared and he chuckled, not even bothering enough to look at your face, but instead looking over your shoulder, at your friends, and chuckling with them.

Because of-bloody-course. Because you were obviously the one who had done something wrong right now.

"What the fuck, Felix?"

"What?", he laughed, breathily. "'S a dare, c'mon, relax."

"Yeah? Yeah? A DARE?"

"Well, dares are for kids. This was more of a bet. A challenge. Definitely more manly and dignified than a dare."

"Don't you have enough FUCKING money as it is?! Why'd you need to win this?"

"Hey, hey, relax-"

"NO! You can't keep FUCKING with me! You've been doing it since high school, and you can-"

"Okay, shh, shh.", he murmured, turning you around and placing his chin in the crook of your neck as he rubbed your almost-flailing arms that were itching to have a go at him, calming you down. "Hey, hey, listen. Listen. I got carried away. Okay? You know I tend to do that."

Oh, you knew way too fucking well what this rich cunt tended to do.

Ask the pens he never gave back in high school - not because he didn't have any of his own - but because you shouldn't have had such "ugly-looking ones" in the first place.

"Listen, listen, I'm- hey, stop struggling, okay? St- Y/N, don't piss me off, stop.", he whispered, soothingly kissing the side of your neck softly. "Everyone's watching, stop making a scene."

Says the bastard who kissed your neck in public not milliseconds ago.

"Yeah? You good?"

"Shut up, Felix."

He chuckled, slowly letting go of you. "Come to my dorm tonight."

Now, you chuckled. "Funny."

"I'm being serious."

"For what purpose?"

"Mum's sent a gift for us."

"If it's a fucking engagement ring or something, I swear-"

"If it's an engagement ring, I will kill myself, you don't have to kill me.", he assured.

"She doesn't want us together, does she?" You'd genuinely kill yourself if that were the case. Because what Elspeth Catton wants, Elspeth Catton gets.

"I hope not. So far, it seems like she's just glad you didn't lose your virginity to a 'troglodyte' or summat. Apparently it's common for girls who've just gone off to Uni to-"

"Yes, I know." You'd heard the horror stories, the warnings. 'You'll have a newfound sense of freedom. Don't abuse it. Don't fuck it away. Don't be a whore.'

And you'd ignored the warnings during your first party there.

And with the biggest fucking mistake there was.

Felix Catton.

THREE DAYS LATER

Look, it isn't often that your circles interact, but when they do, you and Felix attempt cordiality. No one, not even Felix Catton wants to be 'the bummer'.

And so, tonight - the weekend before Christmas and three days after he'd invited you over and you hadn't gone - twelve of you sat on a parapet wall (you and Felix at each end of the line, naturally).

"We should go streaking."

Unsurprisingly, it's Felix's suggestion.

"You should. We'll take a Polaroid."

"You know what we should do?", you suggested. "Skinny dipping."

A murmur of agreement and you knew you'd won it.

"Why not streaking? It's funnier."

"Skinny dipping is less likely to get us in trouble seeing as it's night and the lake's far away."

More hums of 'oh, yeah, good point' and 'we'll be naked either way'.

"It's the prude's way out."

"Just say y'can't swim, Catton.", you retorted, jumping off the wall with a soft grunt, the others following suit.

"I can, too, swim.", he replied, hopping down as well.

"Then just say y'can't handle wet things."

Raucuous laughter - that you didn't quite understand (it wasn't that funny) - but didn't dislike either ensued.

"I dunno, I'd say I handled you pretty well, didn't I, sweetheart?", he replied, twirling a strand of your hair, illuminated a burnt orange by the sombre streetlight perched above the two - well, twelve, but honestly, it didn't feel like it - of you.

"Alright. Fine.", you declared. "Hands up if you wanna go streaking 'cross campus."

A couple hands, not too many, good.

"Skinny dipping?"

Majority of hands. You shrugged, grinning triumphantly as you patted him on the cheek and shouldered past him.

****

You didn't know if it was the moonlight or the water or the weed or what, but Felix had never been more annoying.

Why he insisted he wouldn't skinny dip and ruined the night for everyone, you knew. He was just a cunt.

But why he insisted that you didn't, either, and made everyone beg you to stay on the bank so that he'd shut the fuck up, you didn't know.

Till the end, that is.

"What if one of them had copped a feel? I'm just lookin' out for yah. Like mates do.", he whispered as the night winded down, before ruffling your hair up.

Oh, oh, so this was a favour, according to him. Summat to be grateful for? FUCK Felix Catton.

"What the fuck?", you yelled, following him back to his dorm as he covered his ears with his little fingers comically. "No, seriously! Did I crush your ego that much?!"

"No, sweetheart, I just thin-"

"DON'T call me that!"

"I just think you shouldn't be out there wanting to get felt up by our entire friend group just because you're angry at me!", he screamed back, turning for a moment before he foraged around forcefully in his pockets for his dorm keys.

"WHY should everything in my life have to do with you?!"

"IT HAS SINCE HIGH SCHOOL AND IT WILL FOREVER!"

"THEN YOU'RE JUST BLOODY DELUDED!"

"YEAH? WELL YOU STILL FUCKING WANT ME, SO YOU CAN'T TALK LIKE YOU'VE GOT ANY SELF RESPECT!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'I STILL WANT YOU'? NO I FUCKING DON'T!"

"YEAH? WELL, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO MY DORM?!"

"TO YELL AT YOU!"

About five doors swung open. "IT'S THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

You and Felix continued glaring at each other. "Fuck you, mate."

"I'm not your mate, Y/N. Don't call me that."

"Yeah, you're not my mate. You're just a prick I had the misfortune of knowing for this long."

"And you're just a cunt I've had the misfortune of fucking for this long."

You scoffed. Average conversation with Felix.

"Get over yourself, Felix Catton, or you're going to have a real fucking hard time in the real world - that DOESN'T CATER TO YOU!"

You could feel him flipping you the bird behind you as you left. You just decided to fucking ignore it.

════════════════════ ⋆🐦‍🔥⋆ ════════════════════

That night, you woke up to a knock at the door.

Deja vu. Felix on his knees. Jesus.

"What?"

"Can we please talk?"

Talk meant fuck.

You frowned.

"I promise, I'll just talk."

He doesn't try kissing you this time.

Because this time, things were even more off.

This time, he was stone cold sober.

You rolled your eyes before rubbing them, letting him take your hand to stand up. He didn't need it, of course, but it made you feel better. More in control.

How pathetic that it was the smallest of things that you had to desperately cling on to for the smallest sliver of self respect.

"I didn't mean it. When I called you a cunt. I wasn't... I was angry."

"Yeah."

"I just don't understand why you're... why do you want to forget me so easily?"

"We're terrible together, Felix.'

"I don't want to be together, alright? I can't do relationships either. I just think that we... I mean, we know each other, which makes the sex so much better, right?"

Wrong.

It would've been funny to an outsider. This was something, again, that you were very sure of. Someone else would laugh at your inability to say something to him, laugh at the way he stood there, opposite you, playing with his rings as he took a long drag of his cigarette.

And him being Felix didn't help, either.

When you let him in, he sat there like it was his dorm.

Like it had just been you on your knees, and he'd begrudgingly, magnanimously let you in.

Essentially, this was everything you had not missed since Felix had graduated and left. It was brutal, honestly, to the rest of the school when he had graduated. Because what, oh, what would they do without Felix Catton? It also didn't help that, since you were family friends, you'd been constantly badgered about whether he'd grace the school with his presence during school events like plays and fundraising fairs.

That was genuinely laughable. Felix Catton is only charitable when he wants to be. That's not to say he's an opportunist, no, if you were being honest, the purity of his intentions were truly unmatched, but his intentions often had a way of making him look like an angel.

Kind little angelic rich boy. Connivingly kind little conveniently angelic rich boy.

You decided that the silence was a good opportunity to do something you hadn't done in a while (and something he'd probably never done ever) and reflect.

Reflect on why you and Felix had actually grown apart, not his skewed version and definitely not your biased explanation.

The answer, however, was vague.

Inseparable as kids.

Insufferable as adolescents.

Ineffable as lovers.

Incapable as people.

"He really was trying to cop a feel.", he sighed after the agonizing silence. "Logan. I saw it."

Right. And he also saw every single thought to ever go through Logan's head. Because being Felix Catton gives you both an immeasurable inheritance and impeccable judgement in friends, yeah?

"Well, thanks.", you replied, biting back the word 'mate'.

He sighed once more, shifting closer to you on the couch and now playing with your rings. "I'm just lookin' out for you, okay? I got your back. Just 'cause we stopped shagging doesn't mean all of our history is just gone, yeah?", he questioned earnestly, kissing your rings, your fingertips, your knuckles, and then finally, your wrist.

In theory, that makes total sense. You did used to be best friends. You did used to like each other, at some point.

But this was all, of course, theory, because nothing would ever make sense around Felix, not when he's so noxiously himself, his fragrance, his taste, the basking glow of his attention enveloping your senses until you could feel his aura so tangibly.

"Felix, I just feel like we made a huge mistake."

"What? Fucking? C'mon, it's Uni, and we're both adults, c'mon, this is absolutely ridiculous!", he whined, softly, with his brows raised high up in pleading. He held his cigarette in front of your lips and you inhaled. Because it's Felix. God, what a hypocrite you were.

"I have hated you for as long as I can remember-"

You did have a point. You were about to mention the fact that animosity contributes to lust - just like the first time you'd hooked up, how he'd been pissed at you- and that at some point, it will destroy and consume the two of you. But he didn't let you finish.

"Yeah, and you never let me forget. What did I even do to you?"

"You really don't remember?", you sighed. "You remember your friend Henry Falker?"

"Oh, yeah, Henry Fucker!", he giggled. "What about him?"

"Y'remember when you told him and his gang that if I wasn't a family friend, you'd 'shag the living daylights out of me'? Or, at the very least, whistle at me when I walked by?"

He nodded, slyly as he tapped your nose, as though you were being petulantly annoying. "Yeah, but that was a joke. And I didn't actually do it.", he replied defiantly.

"Yeah, well, he worshipped you."

He frowned at the silence. "He wasn't the one- he didn't cat-call you. Right? I told him it was a joke. I told him you were off-limits."

Off-limits?!

See, this was news. He'd been messing in your life without your knowledge for years, then? You'd actually got along with Henry, no matter what a Felix-sycophant he'd been, and before the cat-calling incident, you wouldn't have said no to a coffee.

"Clearly, we went to different high schools. Y'know, because you went to one where teenage boys keep promises about cat-calling."

He sighed, his forehead on your chest. "He's a prick."

"So are you."

The words felt overused and false, but they had to be said.

His intoxicating kisses began, and moved up the side of your breast up to your throat as he pushed your hands away and pulled your head closer.

"Felix." Your willpower should be applauded.

"If you call me 'mate', I will genuinely hit you."

You couldn't help the breathy laugh that erupted from you as he began gripping your jaw and kissing you as he gently rested your head back down onto the couch.

"No. Felix, stop." This was the thing about Felix. Once you've got his attention, it's difficult to keep an iron will to get it off of you. Because who in their right mind would want Felix's attention off of them?

You, evidently, since high school.

"Look, this is just friends helpin' each other out, alright?"

"Then why do you not like me calling you 'mate'?"

Silence.

"I just don't."

"Do you not remember why we stopped?", you asked, attempting to sit up.

"Summat about you 'being with someone else'."

"Do you not remember the ER?"

"Shh-shh-shh.", he murmured, shaking his head and undoing his belt. "C'mon. Seriously. You had your storm-out, now come back to normal."

Why he always conveniently brushed that under the carpet, you didn't know.

Did he think this was some temporary temper tantrum? Just you being kind of a bitch? Was he already sure you'd forgive him?

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?", you hissed, pushing him off. "Seriously! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Relax, I'm just saying, you were pissed, and you let it out. Now you can come back to normal!"

"Normal? Normal, after you bloody got me admitted in the ER at three am? Normal?"

"That didn't bother you last week."

What bullshit. What utter fucking bullshit.

"Yeah? Well, the whole skinny dipping incident exacerbated it."

"Oh, stop with the whole woe-is-me thing, Y/N, it's getting old."

Honestly, he had a point. It was getting old to you, as well. But damn him for making you that way.

"Look, we agreed to stop. Respect that, Felix."

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you always such a CUNT? Is it 'cause you think you're better than everyone else?! OH, I was a virgin before college, I'm so fuckin' pure and angelic! OH, I've got all good scores in school, I'm so fuckin' AWESOME?! YOU'RE NOT, OKAY?"

Where the fuck did that come from?

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"IT MEANS THAT MAYBE YOU FUCKIN' DESERVED WHAT YOU GOT WHEN YOU GOT PUT INTO THE ER!"

Both of you froze. Felix had obviously meant it. You had obviously believed it.

For once, though, it wasn't you believing it just because it was Felix who said it. You believed it because even you'd been thinking that for a while.

"Get out."

"Fuck, no, can we- look, I admit, I'm an arse- I just promised I'd have your back and then I-"

"Get out."

"Please."

"FUCK YOU, FELIX, GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I SEND YOU TO THE ER!", you yelled, pointing aggressively at the door, taking his attention away from your stinging eyes.

He, instead of obeying you like a sane individual, began to move closer, his hands in front of him as though you were a wild beast he had to tame. "Y/N-"

"STOP! GET AWAY! DON- NO! Don't touch me! NO!", you cried, attempting to wriggle out of his arms, but also attempting to stay between them to relish the comfort they provided.

"Listen to me. Lis- Y/N, stop being a child. Just listen."

The word 'sorry' never left his mouth, but he'd somehow managed to convince you that it was all that he had been saying.

════════════════════ ⋆🐦‍🔥⋆ ════════════════════

It's not like this was an unfamiliar feeling.

Felix had a way of doing this. Making someone feel warm until he got bored. Thankfully, though, you seemed to do the opposite of bore him.

You were essentially his personal jester.

"Toy with you", the cocaine addict had said.

Like sour candy, the addiction was to the unpleasantness, the sour sting, the challenge of how long you could last on Felix's bullshit without flinching.

Well, the unpleasantness and this feeling that you had right now. Not love, of course, but something dangerously bordering at the edge of it.

This feeling, this not-love-feeling was hard to characterise, hard to describe. It was nostalgia brewed with mutual hatred with a tiny bit of affection.

Yeah. Suppose that's the closest one could get.

The not-love-feeling usually blossomed when you were... well, doing what you were doing right now.

Counting the number of flowers on your shirt - the one which hang precociously on the edge of your desk chair, about five paces away from the bed, which is where Felix lay, and, right on his chest, you.

He wasn't awake.

You had been for a while.

"Either you've forgiven me, or last night was the best hate sex planet Earth has ever seen.", he muttered suddenly, singling out a thick strand of your hair and examining it meticulously.

You didn't reply, but just rolled off him. The ceiling seemed to mock you.

"You packed yet?"

"For what?"

"Saltburn. Our proper-proper reunion. Don't tell me you forgot."

Did your face look like you had been on top of your itinerary for the last couple days?

He shook his head, looking past your face to the window behind you. You could almost swear you could see the snow falling through through the reflection in his eye. "I could help you."

"No, it's okay, I'm not coming."

"Like hell you're not. You've been sent a fuckin' dress, okay? My mother sent you a dress plus jewellery - which you'd know if you showed up that day at my dorm - so you're not flakin' out of this."

"A dress for what?"

"The party."

You frowned, watching him sit up and use the same hands he'd had on you to reach over to the pockets of his jeans. "You're not seriously smoking without brushing your teeth."

"Good point. I'm using your toothbrush."

"Don't you dare."

"So let me smoke in unhygienic peace."

You grimaced, looking away and out of the window.

"Relax. Been up for a while. I got up, I brushed, washed my face, and then I just... I dunno. I came back to you. Back to bed."

He was up before you?

"You weren't sleeping?"

"Nah.", he replied, beckoning you closer with the hand that was holding the cig. You moved almost on autopilot. "You forgive me, yeah?", he asked, arm around your shoulder reaching far enough to playfully squeeze your neck. "I'll choke you non-sexily if you don't, y'know? Or I'll leave you to the likes of Logan or Daniel-the-handshaker."

You laughed out loud at that, and he rewarded you with his dimpled grin. "C'mon, mate, let's get you packed."

Honestly? Fuck Felix Catton. And then fuck Felix Catton.

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neonscandal · 11 months ago

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something I wanted to understand, the author said that satoru was quite a womanizer, but then he said that geto was much more popular among women than satoru I didn't understand

Technically, the author said that they didn't see Gojo being faithful to one or a certain woman not that he was a womanizer.

With what we know about Gojo (and Gege Akutami's trolling ways, for that matter), I think that's up for interpretation.

FAN INTERPRETATION

Fans really took that sentiment and kind of ran with it because, to us, Gojo is high spec in every way. Canonically good looking, tall, competent at like.. everything according to Akutami, strong and presumably loaded. Of course someone like that would be a womanizer, right?

Except Gojo is an oversized child who still kinda refers to Digimon in conversation and primarily hangs out with 16 year olds. People project a lot of their BS onto him because they can't imagine ticking all those boxes and not being an asshole. But he’s a corny dork who is seemingly impervious to the outright disdain of most of the people around him. IT’S COMICAL. Personally, I think this interpretation is incorrect, demonstrably.

The other side of the fandom is naturally like... well of course he couldn't stay faithful to one woman. He's been faithful to Geto for ten years! I think we know what camp I've pitched my tent in *gestures vaguely to the rest of my blog* Especially when you bear in mind that Gege Akutami specifically designed Gojo and Geto to be intrinsic complements of one another.

CANON

I'm not so SatoSugu addled (once the brain rot sets in, it's terminal) that I am unable to disclose the secret third way we can interpret this. Canonically, when we look at Gojo as a character... it almost makes sense to assume he's simply not interested in dating at all.

Empirically finds it hard to relate to others

Even when he does care for others, he's still emotionally shallow and aware of it

Gojo clan leader with all associated unpleasantries and responsibilities from a young age

Single benefactor to two children; assumes direct responsibility over two more by staving off their execution

First line of defense for all of jujutsu society

Has a grand design of toppling said jujutsu society

Has experienced devastating loss which informs the grand design of his life's mission and he's always plotting, even when it comes to the seemingly altruistic act of "adopting" the Fushiguro kids or pressing Yuta and Yuji to learn under his care. When you consider that context, it furthers the idea that he's pretty divorced from emotion. Like, he wants them to have a childhood but its still at the pleasure of his convenience and ultimate purpose.

LOOK at this gorgeous, gorgeous boy from pop layer art because I need it and, when I covet, you must also covet. Edit: I'd accidently copied the wrong link there! It's been fixed 💙

In universe, we've seen maybe two canonical couples: Yuta & Rika and Hakari & Kirara (to be animated). This supports the fact that Gege's not really concerned with injecting "romance" into the plot unnecessarily. Undeniably and supporting the SatoSugu agenda, however, is the fact that JJK 0 very much aligned Gojo & Geto with Yuta & Rika with the theme coming to a head in season 2 with Gojo's sealment. For clarity, I mean how love ultimately cursed Rika and Geto after death by Yuta's begging her not to leave and Gojo not properly disposing of Geto's body. Love turned Rika into a curse and allowed Kenjaku to swoop in on Geto.

GETO'S POPULARITY

Geto is, quite literally, popular with everyone in universe and that was before he became a cult leader... which also indicates a predilection for popularity, I guess? As a character, he is principled, thoughtful, gentle and strong. I think, collectively, we tend to toil over the fact that Gojo spent more time missing Geto than he actually knew him. But... that's the same for Shoko and Nanami. After Geto's defection, Nanami couldn't forsake him even if he morally couldn't approve of his actions. Over ten years later as the night parade of a hundred demons is set to take place, Yaga starts saying something along the lines of finally getting rid of the scourge that is Suguru Geto and Shoko makes it a point to leave. I think it's because, after everything, she still holds affection and pity for Geto and would rather not hear him being bad-mouthed for breaking under the pressure of things.

He was the best of them, after all.

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adeaddogsdove · 3 months ago

Text

read a fic the other day about sam and dean spending that week after john dies at bobby’s, and the sweet rottie rumsfeld being involved which got me thinking how much i headcannon sam as a dog person. hope to god i did this image of sam justice.

It’s hot and the sun beats down unforgiving as ever, but Dean spends all day out working on Baby. It’s for the car of course, because he needs the car. But it’s also so he doesn’t have to face Sam.

The heat drowns out his thoughts, turns him into some zombie that’s only goal in life is to fix the car. It makes him sick, makes his head hurt if he thinks too hard about it. He probably wouldn’t feel as sick as he does if he let Sam close enough to remind him to drink enough water.

His tan lines are starting to show from wearing an old mildewy white tank top, one that he’d found in the corner of Bobby’s laundry room. His jeans have soaked with sweat, and then dried, so they’re sticky and cool as they cling to his legs. Usually, he wouldn’t be this unclean but there’s a drought so Bobby’s been unnecessarily anxious about laundry.

It’s been four days — maybe three, maybe even five. Dean doesn’t know, the heat makes time pass in weird ways. He finds himself going out under the car early in the morning; and his body carrying him back to the house for dinner just before the sun sets. Counting days hasn’t exactly been his top priority.

Usually, the sound of Sam playing with Rumsfeld lulls him into that state. The door clinks open from across the yard, just barely audible over the sound of Dean’s music. Rumsfeld will bark at Sam once, and Sam will usually laugh. The ball gets thrown, sometimes hitting one of the cars in the yard — which usually makes Dean’s awareness flicker with urge to tease Sam for having bad aim.

But Rumsfeld clambers through the dead cars to get the ball every time, so Dean absentmindedly wonders if Sam does it on purpose just to make her work for it.

Sam will play with her like that for a while, with the occasional pause to walk down the yard in search of Dean. Which Dean knows Sam thinks he doesn’t notice. He does, he just choses to ignore or forget it most times.

She’ll lap at a bowl of water after the sound of her steps across the creaking porch, and Sam will praise her for it before going in for lunch.

Dean went in for lunch the first day they were here because Bobby was still home. Dean’s sure that the tension between the brothers is what chased him away on a ‘meet-up’ with some other hunters.

After Sam finishes lunch he either organizes shit in Bobby’s living room (Dean doesn’t know how he knows this, but the information sits in his memory like its been branded there. He gathers he’s maybe spent time looking in the window of the house from against Baby) or, Sam finds a book and comes back outside despite the raging heat.

Sam will stay there, silently, until Dean comes inside before sundown. Somehow, Sam always knows to go in just a few minutes before Dean wraps up. And then they eat dinner in silence until one goes upstairs to the guest room they used to sleep in as kids, and the other promptly takes their turn on the couch.

Today, Dean hasn’t heard the door to the house open once. Rumsfeld’s getting impatient, Dean could hear her pacing and whining.

It’s not all that abnormal, Sammy’s a big boy. He’s allowed to have freedom to do whatever he wants. But it has Dean on edge, enough to break through the barrier of his fever-dreamed haze.

He could easily barge in the house and complain about Rumsfeld whining for being the reason of asking why Sam’s not played fetch with her — to inadvertently ask what’s wrong with him, why he broke routine.

But that would take effort, and lead to a real conversation that Dean doesn’t think he’s ready for. Because’s he’s fine, he absolutely is, talking about it would only disrupt his fine state.

So he doesn’t go inside to check on Sam, he goes back under Baby and continues his work, hoping for the sun-haze to take over his brain so he stops thinking again.

It’s probably hours later when he breaks through it again, having just finished the task he set out on early that morning. He doesn’t have Sam to gage what time it is, so he doesn’t know if it’s after lunch or not.

The yard seems to be void of the sound of Rumsfeld, which makes him uneasy because the sound of her collar is always clinking with the rhythm of her pants.

Dehydration plagues his mouth, and makes him dizzy when he clears his throat. He rolls the creeper out from under Baby, and forces himself to stand. It makes his head pound unforgivingly.

Dean wipes his hand with a rag, searching the yard for Rumsfeld — who’s nowhere to be found.

He clears his throat again — immediately regretting it, then sets the rag down on the wood bench and forces himself to walk up to the house.

Minus the absolute crave for water, his stomach rumbles in hunger, angry at him for having skipped so many lunches.

He forces himself up the old creaky steps, and draws the screen door open before pushing his unwilling body into the slightly cooler house.

Dean doesn’t hear signs of Sam upon immediate entry, and he neglects to look for him until he gets to the fridge and manages a bottle of water.

The fridge feels only a few degrees cooler than the air in the house, but the water bottle he picks up cools his hand down the rest of his body like frost spreading on a late October night. He shivers in his place.

The action of unscrewing the cap and bringing the bottle to his mouth happens on instinct, and gulping down the cool liquid brings life back into his body. He groans softly, chugging the bottle down — minus a few drops that escape from his mouth and down his chin.

He pops off it with a desperate breath, crunching up the bottle and throwing it into the open paper bag on the floor next to the trash can.

Sam’s name sits heavy in the back of his throat, nearly having made it’s way out when he turns. His breath is ripped from his chest, forcing the name to die in his throat.

Sam’s asleep on the couch, Rumsfeld promptly atop him like it’s where she’s meant to be. She’s not even allowed in the house unless she’s being fed.

Sam’s limbs are too long to fit on the ugly brown couch, one of his legs is propped against an arm, and the other moulds his neck to mimic a pillow. His other leg hangs off the couch, dangles just above the surface of the old wood floors just like one of his arms.

It can’t be a restful sleep, Dean wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping like that — but Sam looks more peaceful than he’s been since he was at Stanford. The warm — clearly afternoon — sun beams in through the louvered shades, caressing his soft features just perfectly.

He’s not angry, or upset, or even happy — he’s just there. Peaceful, relaxed. Perfect. He’s perfect.

Rumsfeld covers him like a ratty blanket, drooling against one of Sam’s stupid geek shirts that he loves so much. The arm not dangling off the couch clutches her fur, just above her collar where there must be a sweet spot that she likes to be pet.

The image of Sam calling her up onto the couch, getting himself comfortable, and petting her till they both dozed fills Dean’s chest with a kind of warmth he hasn’t felt since Sammy was just a snaggletoothed sticky mess that looked up to him like Dean was the fuckin’ sun.

In this moment, Sam looks like more than just the sun. He’s fucking divine — angelic. The sun clings to his skin and his hair that looks two shades lighter — because they’re one. It finds every bit of open skin — the spot where his shirt’s been hiked up and his hip shows, his arms and neck — all scattered with gleams of pure warmth and light.

Dean doesn’t consider himself religious, threw the idea of anything but horrible away when his mom had died the way she did after reminding him night after night that their family was blessed. But Sam’s restful state, his soft and mesmerizing features almost has him on his knees.

Rumsfeld doesn’t wake, doesn’t even seem to graze the surface of a stir — she lets Dean stare. Lets him stand there and gape at the two of them.

Sam’s breathing is soft — just like Dean knows his voice would be if he took the few steps forward to wake him.

He is soft. He is delicate. He is the boy that Dean fell in love with at the age of innocent. He is nothing but perfect; even when he strays from his usual self in times of anxiety and trouble. He is everything that Dean would kill for and die for, just from a silent pleading look — and from so much less. He is Dean’s everything.

Dean doesn’t know how long he stands there, doesn’t know how long he watches Sam and Rumsfeld just breathe in their sleep, but he does until his knees and his hips ache, and until the sun shining in is turning a dark orange. He does until Sam stirs awake, softly turning in his spot to rub his eyes open just like he did when he was 10 years younger.

Dean melts at the soft mewl he lets out, and melts even further at the less soft groan when Rumsfeld turns to lay fully on her side atop him.

He can’t find it in him to move from his place, even though he suddenly feels guilty for watching Sam as long as he did.

Sam huffs at the rottie, scratching behind her ears before turning — he looks surprised to see Dean at first, his eyes flickering back and forth between him and the dog before he softens and shifts to sit up as much as he can under Rumsfeld’s weight.

“Dean,” he says gently — and it’s exactly the way Dean knew he’d sound when he woke.

“Sammy,” Dean says back — exasperated to finally speak his brother’s name, but just as supple as Sam had.

He has the urge to whisper it again, to say his brother’s name over and over like a prayer because Sammy is something that deserves to be worshipped.

He doesn’t. In fact, he stands there, unsure of what to do with himself; go up to Sam, and touch his face — whisper his name like a desperate plea, kiss him softly — or leave, let the moment be remembered and burned into Dean’s brain as how gorgeous his little brother is, with no mistake to taint it.

Sam seems to not know either, so they stay there in silence. Dean’s legs aching and screaming at him to just sit down for a minute, Sam’s messy hair and face painted with the fading sun — and Rumsfeld dozing away.

For a second, the flashes of Dean on his knees in front of that very couch feels so real he thinks he might actually be there, that he might’ve actually manned up and done what he craves so badly to do.

But then the fridge ticks, and Sam clears his throat, and Rumsfeld jolts awake, suddenly starved for her dinner.

They don’t part unkindly — Sam tears his eyes from Dean’s, and the moment ends as harmoniously as it could’ve.

Dean regrets not having gotten on his knees for his brother the moment they sit down at the uneven table for a dinner they’ve had for the last several nights.

He regrets not showing Sam how badly he worships him.

He regrets it, He regrets it, He regrets it, He regrets it.

But he can’t bring himself to change it.

They eat in silence, maybe Sam having moved on from the moment just as much as Dean had — and Dean’s still sure he can feel the still air, and the cramp in his legs, and the hunger in his belly for more than just the food promised for dinner — but instead the heavenly being that is his little brother.

They don’t talk about it, but after dinner they gravitate to the couch together — where somehow Sam ends up leaned against Dean in the way he had when they were younger and only — still — had just each other.

They don’t talk about the way that Dean slowly snakes his hand over Sam’s body to find one of his, desperately seizing the palm that is so much softer than his. They don’t talk about the implication of it, or where it would lead if they managed to take the next step — they don’t talk about the trouble of what would happen if Bobby found them like this, with Rumsfeld at their feet in the house she’s not allowed in unless she’s being fed — and with their hands, hearts and bodies intertwined.

#i didnt know how to end this can you tell #dean who needs to worship his baby brother has my whole fucking heart #angelic sam #sam is dean’s sun #i know rumsfeld is probably a boy #and also probably dead #i dont care #sam is a dog person #dean is in love with sam #wincest #wincestie #samdean #sam x dean #weirdcest #weecest #spn #supernatural #religious imagery

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mythicalartistx · 1 year ago

Text

I know now without a doubt Kingdom Hearts is L—

No actually I think Kingdom Hearts is honestly purposely censored.

I used to be like well I don't think it's inherently the translators faults, Japanese is a tough language for people to know what it's referring to and likes to Americanized certain things like adding heteronormativity and romanizing things. People like romanticizing thingz so I can't exactly blame them it's part of westerners.

Like when you think of relationships most think of straight relationships so that probably what they thought of it's probably about even though the relationship doesn't really develop that much.

A lot of Action movies have the same problem when there is a male main character, there is always a forced romance with some side girl character when it's not a developed or good relationship it's just there to mark of the love interest category.

But now realizing how much Kingdom Hearts censors things, maybe they had an idea.

Some lines are WAY off from the original made to romanticized so much when the original wasn't even anything remotely like that or about a character in that way. And some scenes take out movements and edit it.

They change the entire meaning to censor things for American Audiences.

Nobody knows why.

And all I can think of is to make it have things that American Audiences would rather enjoy having romance in places unnecessarily or censoring things to be "safe"

I made a post about the Dream Drop Distance scene which gotten a crazy amount of attention only on the first few days it's at 300+notes, but the post was essentially about how when Sora was sleeping he tells Donald and Goofy it's his job to keep him on his toes and he puts his arm down in a fist. Then Riku moved his arm slightly to the left and put it in a fist again?

But the scene actually had Riku telling Donald and Goofy how he slapped Sora awake whenever he fell asleep on the beach and it shows Riku moving his hand in a slapping motion, not whatever that awkward motion was.

The thing is DDD was one of the side games and I thought they didn't pay much attention to the censoring in those. And given how gay DDD is and it wasn't as censoring their dynamic.

However, it got censored and it's like why? Did they think Audiences couldn't handle it?

Like it just seems like a silly thing he would do. It's kinda like how some people would pour water on someone to wake them up.

Like a teasing thing which he does A LOT and it probably wasn't that hard.

And other times I heard about how the language had some swearing or words that could be translated that way but of course since it's Disney the western version had to censor that.

The novels and manga actually still have more language in it.

And I think the main problem is Disney. They censor things a lot now.

They used to be more open to this kind of thing, but now they are soft and never take risks. I also heard how their team would edit things that would be in their original movie to tone it down for KH players.

It's kinda sad because there is definitely a lot of meaning to KH that is lost in translation. The battle with Vanitas is one in particular I had realized it's meaning is a bit more than the western version. The western version also simplifies things and tries to condense aspects as well. Xehanort's reason for everything is also worded very differently in the western version.

One of the reasons I look at fan translations is because it gives more meaning to certain events, not only because of dynamics and possible ships that are lost, but also explanations that are no longer there.

I'm so grateful for everyone who tries to retranslate things accurately and sometimes I use a site for certain things I'm curious but by no means do I speak their language and I get translation is hard, I really hope their future installments don't do this especially with KH4 and ML coming up in the next several years.

#soriku #kingdom hearts #translations #kh translations #kh censorship #the censorship is honestly real #Disney is probably the main team trying to censor things #but didney doesn't care about KH unless it does something with their properties #if they did care they would show it more #dream Drop Distance #kh3 #chain of memories #heteronormativity #this plays a huge factor as well #Sora #Riku #kh Riku #kh Sora #I hope kh4 censorship won't do this

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onlyseokmins · 2 years ago

Text

fighting • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), boxer!au, kind of e2l Warnings: idrk shit about boxing so i threw in some illegal stuff i suppose fjskdjf, swearing, fighting/sparring/boxing obviously, they're a little mean to each other but down bad and thirsty, mentions of blood/broken bones, marking/bruising, slapping, hand job, nasty oral (male receiving - you're welcome deekay), kissing eheh, humiliation kink... look - seokmin's cocky but melts for reader WC: 4k A/N: spur of the moment collab (enforcer of evilness): in your corner by @onlymingyus can't believe she encourages me like this 😭 ❤️ side note: seokmin is wayyyy too pretty to be a boxer imho haha anyways, my fingers slipped and i'm a lil nervous abt this one but i hope you enjoy it hehe

"Lee Seokmin!"

Your shout echoes menacingly in the almost empty training gym. A straggler who had been spending a little too long looking at their phone by the exit doors quickly scurries out as the vengeful air that surrounds you luckily heads in the opposite direction.

The man in question — whose name is bitter upon your tongue — looks up as you approach. Your stride is purposeful, not faltering even as his dark brown eyes remain steadily trained on you all the way up to pausing in front of him. Putting one hand on your hip and the other on the punching bag that he is very much not using like it's supposed to be.

"Strange how only you and my family will be the ones to know me by that."

"Yes, what do they call you? DK, Lee Dokyeom, the Black Jaguar… a man whose uppercut to his opponents is as sharp as his jawline."

He dares to show off that very same feature with long fingers tilting up his chin smugly and a smirk on his face. "Someone's been reading up on me."

"It's my responsibility to make sure you have good publicity. Which will all go right down the drain if this is how you act after one win. Your first win. And the only you'll ever have again."

"Harsh, Coach. Finally paying attention just to scold me, breaks my heart!" Seokmin says it with light ease though, the megawatt smile that's gaining popularity brightening at your dark scowl that just makes you look cuter to him.

Which in theory, is dangerous. You're not someone to be messed with. There's a reason you're his trainer. A strong purpose as to why you don't fight in the ring anymore and choose to stay on the sidelines. Behind the scenes. Giving young and raw talent the tools they need to dominate the matches under your strict tutelage.

"Don't worry, I was paying great attention when you sparred with Jace."

"Yeah? And?"

"Just 'cause you ran with the big dogs for a little bit and won means nothing. You're no alpha and this isn't a playground. It's — "

" — a battleground. Your battleground. Where everything begins and the only reputation on the line that matters is yours. I know, you've said it over and over — "

"Then why are you just throwing this bag around like it's a child on a swing?" The glare after getting a familiar lecture repeated back to you is directed to survey his body. Upper body muscles clearly visible through the unnecessarily large arm holes of a gray muscle tee. Lean legs shown off by black shorts had every other person in the gym side-eyeing out of jealousy. "You're going to lose everything you've worked so hard to gain."

"Worried 'bout me?"

"Yes. Your footwork was horrible, which isn't like you. Something's up."

"Indeed."

"What?"

A large hand thumps against the heavy bag just a bit above yours. Auburn bangs threaten to tickle your forehead when he leans on the back of his palm to get close. Very close. Probably too close. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Not really," you admit, never one to back down or away and meet his cocky stare straight-on, "but if I'm to keep my star fighter up to standard, there are things that need to be done." Tilting your head toward the right, you narrow your eyes. "Get on the mat."

The minute he steps back to obey, you're free to turn and head there yourself. Seokmin lags a step behind. Unusual, but his whole entire behavior has been more than strange today so you ignore it. Luckily also missing the discreet way his gaze skims your body from behind and licks his lips.

"Don't treat this like a therapy session," you instruct once he's in position across from you. "We'll do a couple of drills and you can share what's on your mind. I'll kindly listen."

"How sweet."

"Don't patronize me."

"Isn't that what you're doing to me?"

"I'm helping like I always do. On the balls of your feet — good, now you know this one."

"You try to hit my legs, I avoid and dodge, and vice versa."

A scoff escapes your lips. "Trying to hit you? Please. Whatever, keep your heels up!"

Seokmin lunges forward, aiming for your bare inner thigh. You're quicker though. Eagle-eyed and experienced. Also used to his movements after observing him tirelessly for months. He always aims for what he wants first. You dodge before he can even get close enough and dart behind his figure. Pleased when he side steps away from the hand going for the back of his calf and spins around to face you again.

"Nice. Why didn't you do that earlier?"

"Sparring with Jace is boring."

"So you're just going to give up."

"Sure, if it gives me the chance to spar with you instead." He attempts for your knee this time and you pick it up at the right second to spring out of reach with the power of your other foot. "I learn more and do better."

"That's the nature of the game but you're doing a good deed by helping train and encourage some of the newbies in my place. They admire you."

Rolling his eyes and ducking away from your next strike, he spits out, "Not as much as they worship you."

"Hah, you wanna be worshiped, Seokmin? Then do better. Even the most mundane fights keep you active and on your guard. Complacency is a fool's move, a complete loss, and an admission of pathetic defeat."

"How am I supposed to improve when you won't pay attention to me anymore?"

You block the hand that shoots out way too high above your waist. Irritation gnaws at your gut the same time as you bite your lip, taking a moment to adjust your sports bra before deciding the next move. Elastic snaps against your skin and he gulps. "Hands below the belt, Lee!"

"Sorry, Coach."

"No, you're not! Your head isn't staying in the ring. Why? Because I only spend two hours Monday, Wednesday, and Friday training you rather than five every day like before? My apologies for dedicating so little of my already busy time to you."

"That's not what… I thought we had something okay!"

He suddenly stops moving and you end up delivering a much harsher slap than intended where he had aimed at you originally — the inner side of his thigh. Seokmin grunts and you seethe, straightening to your full height. "Honestly, is this a joke to you?"

"No, I — "

"It's not that I don't think you wouldn't have gotten anywhere because your talent is obvious. But you got there a lot faster because I saw what no one else did at the time." You dig a pointer finger accusingly into his chest. "And you're throwing it all away, spitting in everyone's face that supported you for such a petty reason? You and I both know you should've been able to avoid that slap!"

And for the first instance since you'd met him all that time ago at the street fights, Seokmin gets angry. Even when he was betrayed and abandoned in the dangerous underground boxing rings by people he considered friends, after losing round after round repetitively because he was initially too afraid to hurt others in order to survive, mocked and jeered while being cheated out of what should have been his first win a month ago — he simply smiled and moved on.

But now his face hardens, the gentle light snuffed out in his eyes, lips curled downwards, and eyebrows furrowed. He takes a menacing step toward you with fists clenched. And as expected, you don't even flinch.

"Petty? Hah, you accuse me of being petty when this is the first time we've actually had a chance to talk 'cause you've avoided me ever since that ring girl kissed me!"

Heat burns in your cheek. Anger or shame, you're not quite sure. "So?"

"So tell me. Talk to me. Goddammit, even fight me!"

"You wanna fight, Seok?" you growl, "and then what?"

"Winner gets a wish granted."

"How cliché. Arms up, then!" Yours raise to match his stance, eyeing the veins that ripple with tension across his forearms. "Anything's fair game?"

"Anything is fair game."

"Then you'd better be ready to fight for your life."

There's a certain thrill to sparring with him. He's right. Jace is boring. Seokmin isn't just some kid that wanted to pick up boxing as a hobby. This man entered the ring because everything rides on him winning. Succeeding. Excelling.

And he's threatening to throw it away like it doesn't matter. Give away everything he'd put blood, sweat, and tears into. What you and his loved ones had sacrificed for his growth. Why? Because of you? Because of feelings? Believing in something so wholesome amidst this crummy world? Your blood boils, fierce glare set as his rather mean smile gets even crueler.

"Talk with your fists," you had once informed him during a training session. Ever since, you'd dutifully read every one of his punches, getting a clearer intent of the message he's sending with each swing. Encouraging aggression. Gaining control. Demanding respect. Elevating his status. Shooting for the top. The best of the best.

Now, you can only see hot red annoyance. All of it aimed at you. It's reflected back right back though. Adrenaline surges through your veins, easily blocking the jabs, hooks, and cross punches he throws and parrying them back with solid hits. Hits that land hard. A sharp kick to his shin has him stumbling back against the heavy ropes of the ring with a curse and hitting them out of frustration.

"Done already?"

"As if."

A pleased sneer lifts your lips upwards. Seokmin probably thinks you're goading him further, and even though you aren't intending to, it works. His movements gain momentum, striking at you harder. But they also get sloppier.

You frown. "Sometimes I just want to… "

"Punch me in the face?" He dodges the strike to his shoulder and returns with one to your ribs that's too easy to evade. "Haven't you done that enough to satisfy yourself?"

"Hardly. Now stop leaving yourself open!"

A roundhouse kick doesn't even come near his face and he knows it won't, letting it whack his shoulder. After a couple of rounds of bruising his cheeks in the early days of training, you never did it again. Not when he'd arrived at your doorstep one night — absolutely beaten bloody during a vicious scuffle. You'd nursed his wounds while berating him with well-intentioned advice on how to not let that happen ever again.

You might've also let slip that he's too pretty for his face to get messed up. Must've gone to his head a little.

Here's the thing. You're the undisputed, reigning champion of the boxing world. Both professional and underground. Even the so-called king of the illegal matches acknowledges your prowess. It's inevitable for someone who was the fastest to stake their name on the brilliant TV screen and scribbled on loaded betting cards.

Seokmin knows he can't beat you. Ever. But you actually have more faith in him, satisfied when he manages to catch your fist in his hand. Rules don't exist when you two spar. Familiar with underhanded techniques, he uses them to his advantage. Still holding onto your fist, he takes your feet out from under you with a side sweep to your ankles and throws you to the ground.

You're pinned beneath him, all his weight holding you down. Trapping your arms behind your back with one hand and the other slamming against the mat near your head. You feel his hot breath brush your ear as he whispers with an edge to his voice, "Done now?"

Rather than respond, you relax your muscles. Lulling him into a false sense of security. The minute you feel him release some of the pressure, you're kicking his thighs back and rolling over before his body weight can crush you again. Maneuvering your core as you push against his unbalanced shoulder and scramble on top of him. Knee to his chest, forearm against his throat, and free hand securing his wrists.

"As if."

He sighs. "I could never beat you anyways."

"Not exactly true. If I was simply pro, you would certainly have the upper hand."

"But you're aware I could never hurt you so what do you want? Me to leave you alone?"

You study his features in silence. It's unnerving enough for Seokmin to want to divert his eyes. But where? He blinks rapidly instead and your eyes are drawn to where his tongue peeks out to nervously moisten his lips. His wrists twitch when your grip turns lax and he unintentionally slips out of it to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"I've been in that very position far too many times that it's as easy as breathing to get out of. I can teach you the technique."

"Well, I'll definitely be feeling it in the morning."

"Are you hurt badly?" you reposition your lower body to straddle him, feeling at his sides. "Where?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, what's your wish?"

You mull it over. Tonguing at your cheek and hands stilling to play with the threads hanging from the bottom of his shirt's armholes. "Normally, winners get a congratulatory kiss."

"Do you say that to all the guys you body slam to the floor?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Seokmin leans up on his forearms so his nose brushes yours. "Yeah."

The words, "Maybe just you," are interrupted by a gasp that's swallowed by his mouth when it slams against yours. It's a ferocious kiss that brings his head back down on the mat, cushioned by your arms as your body follows.

Electrifying. The same surge of energy that fills you when fighting him but in a much different manner. Thrillingly.

When you lean back, biting his bottom lip as you go, he groans. Fingers splayed against the bare skin of your back prevent you from moving too far and you have no choice but to feel the hardness stirring within his gym shorts.

"You know that kiss… that kiss meant nothing."

"The one with Aeyong?"

"Was that her name? And of course, most certainly you didn't mean ours." He pulls you back down to mold his lips to yours again. "Or that one." Placing a smooch on your nose. "Or that one!"

It takes everything within you to not giggle at his silliness. But nothing can stop the tender smile gracing your lips as you cup his chin, angling his head this and that way to cover his face in kisses, especially where you recall landing a blow to.

Seokmin has no trouble hiding his giddiness, happy chuckles turning to pleasured sighs when you start nibbling on his earlobe. "I hope you know these kisses though… they mean everything."

He's spent far too long denying his attraction to you that it's impossible to hold back now. You answer him with another kiss so he can feel your returned smile against his lips, threading fingers through his hair. Then you're yanking at the silky strands so his neck is exposed and the moan he lets out has your cunt automatically clenching while you suck a bruise to darken his skin.

"Want to cash in my wish now."

It takes a few moments for him to blink back to reality and register what you said. "Didn't you already?"

"Kisses are obligatory, not what I wished for." You choose to swivel your hips, slow and methodical, down against his. "You would deny me?"

"N-no, 'course not. What… do you want?"

"To suck you off."

"… Really?"

You're already sliding down his body and playing with the band of his shorts when you hum in confirmation. Tugging them down the second his hips lift instinctively, cock almost slapping you in the cheek when you do. You don't complain, simply wrapping a hand around its thick and heavy girth to steady it. Rough calluses from years of fighting rub pleasurably at the gentle foreskin.

"So pretty," you murmur. Of course, it would be as lovely as he is — red and leaking to match flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. "Too pretty for such a dirty boy who likes getting his dick sucked for anyone to see." When it twitches in your grip, you grin wickedly. "Always knew you had a thing for humiliation."

"Says the one who enjoys destroying and taunting me. Think I didn't notice how you squeeze your thighs together after giving me shit on my form?"

"You're cute. When you get all huffy," you make another mark on the inside of his thigh, licking at the sting smarting right below his mole, "it makes me want to ruin you more."

"Gonna be the death of me."

"Did you think I hadn't noticed you checking me out, Seok?"

"Was hoping you wouldn't."

"Silly," you deliver a light slap to the thigh you hadn't hit earlier and he tries to hide a whine despite his legs betraying him with telltale tremors, "and cute."

You and everyone else that comes to your gym are able to wear skimpy clothing that allows for easier movement simply because any perverts trying to touch or get a sneaky peek are swiftly kicked (out). But you enjoyed Seokmin's eyes on you and you know he enjoyed yours on him as well. So you let it be. Maybe all for this moment.

Covering the muscular ridges of his thighs in bite marks, hickeys, and shiny saliva trails while he begs for more of them, whimpering out an admission of, "Show everyone I'm yours so not a single ring girl even thinks to kiss me."

"I quite like that idea." You sincerely do though you probably like the blemishes left on his honey golden skin even more. "But you have to win again for one of them to consider it."

"I'll win."

"Yeah? Promise?"

"Pr-promise," he stutters out as you creep higher and higher to nuzzle at his heavy balls. Licking in between them teasingly before your tongue traces the prominent vein running along the underside of his cock, all the way up to the tip. "Win 'em all in your favor."

You hesitate briefly then stick your fingers inside tight spandex shorts and past your tiny thong to lather them in the wetness pooling from your pussy that's threatening to seep through and ruin the layers of fabric. Retracting before you're tempted to finger yourself right then and there, you reach for Seokmin only to jolt when he tugs at your wrist and puts them in his mouth, moaning greedily.

His tongue swirls around each finger, cleaning them of your essence thoroughly, and coating them with his spit instead. He wiggles his eyebrows as you watch — flabbergasted — and releases them with a pop once satisfied.

"I hope you weren't planning on doing that right in front of me without at least letting me have a taste."

You fix him with a serious stare. "You're going to have to train harder than anything and prove to me that you won for yourself. Not me, not anyone else. All for you."

"And then what?"

"Maybe I'll let you fuck me."

He wants to complain for various reasons but you don't give him time to think, wrapping your slick hand around his now slicker cock. Rubbing your thumb across the slit of its tip and spreading the excess of precum up and down his shaft, your mouth replaces your hands that choose to press down on his thighs and prevent him from thrusting up.

There's nothing to grip or grab at out here in the open on the boxing ring mat with anyone able to walk in on the two of you making a different kind of sweaty mess upon it despite how unlikely that happening is. You find that you don't even care — it might even excite you — empty cunt getting spongier and wetter, already addicted to Seokmin's salty taste. Noticing how his fingernails dig into the canvas, you guide them on top of your head. Giving him permission to set the pace if he so chooses to.

And he does. Alternating between slow bobs that let you kitten lick and pay attention to every single inch of his long cock versus harsh, fast up and down motions where you happily gag around his length. Whimpering and soft moans, breathless praises that make no sense as he listens to your pretty noises.

"Always wanted… like this. Imagined you getting on your knees… every time… you pushed me harder."

It's funny. Seokmin almost had his nose broken during a match yet he hadn't winced a single bit while you fussed over him and gave the opponent a tongue-lashing lecture because of the illegal fake-out move he'd conducted. Maybe if it had been a fight in the dungeons you'd let it go but on the professional mat that led to your star spilling blood — vengeance was your middle name.

But now with your mouth on him, he's significantly weaker, vulnerable, and soft — so hard yet so soft. And no matter how strong you want him to be to succeed, maybe the sick part of you really likes how you alone can reduce him to a state like this.

"Always been you, no one else." His sincere tone is slurred with lust, simultaneously trying to hurtle towards that sweet climax but also delay it as much as possible. Afraid for the moment to end but longing for release. "My anchor."

And he treats you like one, holding your head down firmly. Nose pressing into his pelvis as he gives into the rush of endorphins. Your throat constricts and swallows around his length that throbs and spurts an endless load of cum.

When he lets you go, you gulp the extra remnants left on your tongue and wipe your lips. Grateful and proud of having one less thing to clean up. Seokmin squints at you, panting wildly as you politely tuck his softening cock back into his shorts and stand up.

"Wh-what… what about you?" He won't lie and say he's not a bit hopeful you're going to sit on his face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Of course not," you rasp, cracking your jaw and neck as a point. Then you stick out your hand, a familiar indication that you'll help him up. "Let me show you how to do that move."

He blinks and cocks his head. "I don't mind being under you. But I was thinking… in a different way?"

"You just were underneath me."

"C'mon Coach, you know what I mean!"

"How about this — we wait for your dick to get hard while you learn this move. But you have to promise I'll be able to walk tomorrow. And no marks. Now, on your knees."

"That's not fair!" Seokmin pouts and refuses to budge. "You underestimate me and won't let me be possessive. I wasn't lying when I said they worship you. Jace is so into you it's annoying."

You laugh. "So that's why you think he's boring. I'm surprised you didn't beat his ass then."

"That's too easy," he smirks, "it wouldn't just end with that so I'd rather spend my energy getting your undivided attention. I know how you like to dote more on the injured rather than the victor."

The need to admit that you only do it for him is strong but the urge to roll your eyes is stronger. But he knows what you're thinking. Just like everything. You might be able to read his fists like an expert but he can read your innermost thoughts better than you can imagine.

"Fine, master this move in ten minutes and I'll let you eat me out in the office."

Seokmin has never gotten down on his hands and knees faster and he looks so good doing it, you might have to save that for future ideas in the bedroom later. After he proves himself first, of course.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

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astra-galaxie · 1 month ago

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Sorry, sorry, one more question: what is something that genuinely ticks you off, your least favorite thing, for each season? It can be something that's isolated to just one case, or something season-wide. The sky is the limit!

Finally! An excuse to rant about some of my issues with Criminal Case! Thanks, asharkapologist!

Season 1 - Grimsborough

Am I allowed to say the Johnson family’s smiles? Those grins give me the creeps!

Jokes aside, I think my least favourite thing from Grimsborough was that we didn’t get a lot of character development. I know it's the first season, but I wish we could have focused on specific characters (especially the teammates) like we do in the following seasons. It makes a lot of their stories feel incomplete and lacking in uniqueness. I know it's not that big of an issue, but it annoys me that unless a character returns in later seasons, they never get a chance to get more development and time in the spotlight.

Season 2 - Pacific Bay

The geography. HOW DOES A DESERT EXIST NEXT TO SNOW COVERED MOUNTAINS?!?!?! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!?!

I admit, I thought it was a cool concept when I first played the season, but revisiting it later in life made me realize how weird Pacific Bay is. Logically, there's no way the districts could exist beside each other. And I know MotP’s geography is a little strange, too, because of Coyote Gorge, but that’s just one district, unlike several. While I think some of PB’s district environments are interesting, having so many unique districts coexisting gives me the impression of trying too hard to make something stand out and just ending up making it confusing.

Season 3 - Save The World

While STW is in my top three seasons (it used to be number one, but MotP took that spot months ago), some things annoy me. One is that it was never explained how the Bureau had labs/offices everywhere they went, even in the smaller, lesser-known countries. It may be trivial and nitpicky, but I couldn't help but wonder. Did they have offices in every country? Did they just rent labs and transport their equipment everywhere they went? How bad was their jet lag?

(Okay, the last one had nothing to do with my original point, but you can’t tell me the Bureau’s sleeping schedules weren’t constantly messed up by the ever-changing time zones!)

Even if there had been an off-handed comment, it might not have been so confusing. I think it was only once stated that they visited a country’s Bureau HQ during “The Impossible Dream,” where it opened with the title card “At the Bureau’s Spanish office…” But do they have Bureau buildings everywhere or not?!

Season 4 - Mysteries of The Past

While I love almost everything about MotP, one part that annoys me is that we moved past the Flying Squad's initial purpose (taking down police corruption) almost right after the first district. Don’t get me wrong; I love the districts' plots and how they flow together, but for something as serious as police corruption (especially a city-wide one!), we dealt with it rather quickly! I never noticed until someone pointed it out to me, so now, when I revisit the season, I keep wondering why dealing with police corruption didn’t last longer or get focused on more!

I still love the season regardless of this fact, but I wonder how it could have changed if we’d focused on it longer… Using police corruption would have worked in districts like Crimson Banks with the gang wars and later on with the Rochester situation (I could see some of them paying off the police).

Season 5 - The Conspiracy

When I first played the season, it annoyed me how long it took us to learn what was behind the dome and get into the Ad Astra plot. The idea is cool, but whenever people talk about the dome before Misty Grove, I would think, “Come on! Can we find out why this is so important already?!” I get teasing, and foreshadowing keeps people in suspense (stars know I love doing it with my stories), but it was to the point where we were unnecessarily delaying the plot since, after the reveal, it and Ad Astra became the main focus of the season.

Season 6 - Trave In Time

The gameplay. I don’t know why they changed it to Travel in Time, but I HATED IT! It made it impossible for me to get immersed in the season like I did for others, and for a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to like it despite the incredible plot and characters. Eventually, the season grew on me, and I came to enjoy it outside of its gameplay, but I don’t know if I could make myself replay it… It's nice revisiting the lab analysis cutscenes, but beyond that, I have no desire to replay the game.

Season 7 - Supernatural Investigations

I hated how PS ruined George Mathison’s character development. I thought his story and development were amazingly written, and I loved the clueless-human/FBI-agent-obsessed-with-arresting-the-hunters-turned-ally storyline! It was an excellent plot for him! They should have kept Mathison like that and not added the “surprise plot twist” in the final case, which destroyed all that character development…

I also hated how generally rushed the ending was and how poorly they finished off the characters’ stories.

Season 8 - City of Romance

Cases 1-17 (/jk)

But in all seriousness, it might be quicker to ask me what I liked about City of Romance! I keep saying it has potential, and given the right rewrite, it could become a good season, but sadly, the canon one is very lacklustre… However, disregarding how rushed and unpolished the season is, I didn’t like how overly sexualized it was and how bad the representation was. Paris is the city of love, and love isn’t just sex; there are countless other ways it can be shown. I wished we could have seen better gender and sexuality representation like in previous seasons… And also not finish with the most rushed and confusing wedding in CC history, but that’s a rant for another day!

And that’s a wrap! I have other issues with the game, but I think I covered enough in this ask. Thanks for the request!

#criminal case #criminal case grimsborough #criminal case pacific bay #criminal case save the world #criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case the conspiracy #criminal case travel in time #criminal case supernatural investigations #criminal case city of romance #astra's thoughts #ask

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