#if i could change anything i would change the beginning and try to make the syncing a little bit better

[vasito-de-leche]

Ooh I just found your account on here! I love the way you write!

I just thought of this idea, and this can be with the reader with them as a group or single interactions, doesn't matter to me! ^^

What would the Suja Bois and Huntr/x do if they found out that the reader was a demon? Like they were cursed to be one, sold their soul etc.

Thank you <3

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS SAJA BOYS - Finding Out You're A Demon

Compilation of headcanons and analysis about how the Saja Boys would react if they found out you're a demon.

welcome to my little blog!! ty for the kind words, I'm glad you like my writing <3

since the max number of characters I take for prompts is 5, I went with the saja boys cause I might have some ideas for oneshots involving huntrix for this prompt hehehoho

JINU

We basically see the way he'd react to this in the movie itself, but that was a very specific situation that required him to get close enough to Rumi to gain her trust.

I think this would still apply if you turned out to be someone more influential or powerful than him in the human world; he'd follow the exact same steps to befriend you, until he could start pulling at your strings without you noticing.

If we're talking about a coworker or acquaintance, someone that Jinu only knows superficially, then I can see him being much colder--you're someone he can exploit by simply knowing you're a demon in hiding, he makes this known from the very beginning so that you know your place. With how pragmatic he is, he's the least bothered by things like morality and such. If you're an obstacle, then he won't hesitate to subtly threaten you to stay out of his way, maybe even using his own status of working directly with Gwi-ma.

If you're someone close to him, however, then his reaction would be that of sadness and camaraderie--you're stuck in the same boat as him, you're aware of the consequences and the eternal doom and gloom that follows you just by existing. It sucks, but you can actually relate to him. Jinu would not throw you any words of pity or coddle you, of course, but he does soften when the two of you are alone. Not enough to be noticeable to outsiders, just little things that you can pick up--stepping in front of you whenever your patterns begin to show due to distress, a comforting hand on your shoulder if your negative emotions start spiraling out of control.

Overall, I like the idea that Jinu doesn't truly know how to verbalize nor show his concern and/or affection because of the centuries he's spent as a demon himself--he's internalized the fact that he can't feel anything but misery, but when presented with this situation, he does choose to try, as awkward or stiff as he may come across.

I also like the idea that he unconsciously does this as a way to make up for the way he betrayed his family. He didn't get to protect his sister, nor make his mother happy, so this is the next best thing.

When it comes to discussing your status as a demon, Jinu wouldn't pry into how you came to be like this. Or rather, he doesn't want to know. It would only add to the heartbreak he's already trying to forget so desperately. He doesn't want to discuss how to stop being a demon, how to get better, how to cope with it and anything of the sort; isn't it enough that he accepts you for who you are? The lowest type of creature, stuck at the very bottom, exactly like him? Why try to change what you are? You did this to yourself, after all.

There is a huge contrast between Jinu's actions and his words that could easily become the catalyst for constant fights between the two of you; he's gentle and understanding when he tries to keep the world from seeing you for the demon you are, but his words are so very cruel, denying any ounce of hope that you may have. And he doesn't do this on purpose, I insist--he genuinely thinks this is the best course of action for hopeless demons like you two.

ROMANCE

Regardless of your relationship with Romance, he's the most bothered about this discovery.

With his themes of, well, romance and love and what have you, I like to portray him as someone who is extremely contradicting, someone who adds a very specific flavor of drama by being so emotional and/or attuned to other people's feelings, while romanticizing the world around him, seeing it through rose-colored glasses for fun. This is how he entertains himself.

Romance, similar to most Saja Boys, thinks it's near impossible to escape Gwi-ma's influence on him; yet that romantic and dreamy side of him still holds on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it's possible. And if it isn't, then he can at least get the satisfaction of pretending that it can happen, or that he can live as a human once again. That's part of why he joined Jinu; the chance to return to the human world as one of them, rather than a demon.

So finding out that you--someone that's been lingering around in his life whether as a coworker or as someone close to him--are actually a fucking demon? Well, it shatters the perfect illusion he's built for himself. I can see him looking at you with shock and anger, as if he had any right to look down on you when you're just like him, before begging you to prove him wrong--that you misspoke or that he misheard. Romance goes through all stages of grief in the span of a week.

I think another big factor of his reaction lies in the fear that comes with the possibility that you might have known he's a demon. That someone saw right through him without his knowledge, without him choosing to reveal himself. Or the idea that he somehow missed the signs of your own demonic heritage. As much as Romance might care for you, this is still something that terrifies him to know end.

It would take a lot for your relationship to return to something stable, until he cools down and understands that it might've been just as terrifying for you to reveal yourself.

Romance is much more understanding than Jinu when it comes to existing as a demon, or the story about how you became one--he would like to know how it happened, if only to lessen the burden on your shoulders and maybe, just maybe, share his own story as well so he can bitch about all the things that went wrong.

He also entertains the idea of finding a way to be free from Gwi-ma with you, even if deep down he doesn't truly believe in it, it's fun to talk with you about all the things you'd like to do in the future. All the places he wants to visit from his life as a human to see how they've changed in the years he's been gone, and all the new things you'd like to show him. I can see Romance also teaching you a few tricks on how to pass off better as a human, like making sure to cover up the marks with make-up in case any nosy hunters that might see them show up.

ABBY

Abby's reaction depends on how you feel about your demonic heritage; if you dislike this side of yourself, then he acts a bit more solemn, attempting to cheer you up, and if you do happen to like being a demon, then he jokes around and cheers with you.

All in all, this information doesn't change a lot for him but he knows better than to pull a Mystery and give you absolutely no feedback and no reaction. It does come as a surprise and it explains many, many different things but overall? Well, you're a demon, how's that been going for you?

While Abby is not immune to Gwi-ma and Jinu's influence throughout the years, I like to think that his straightforward nature keeps him from conflating or mixing up his feelings and projecting them on you--not to say he's good at compartmentalizing his own set of emotional baggage, but he at least understands that whatever he may feel about being a demon is not something that instantly applies to you or someone else. Whether you're close or just an acquaintance, he adapts to what he believes is the best approach for your situation.

And after that is done, he would instantly focus on figuring out all the differences between the two of you, especially if you're a different type of demon and not grim reapers like the Saja Boys--from patting you on the back because damn, eternal damnation must suck to asking if you could transform so he can see, the change is almost jarring. He offers to transform too if you're curious as well, flirting here and there in a way that makes this reveal feel almost trivial, like there was nothing to worry about in the first place.

I like to think that Abby is just very good at disarming people in his own way, he does this every day already by being the eye-candy of the group, and this is one of those moments; it might seem like he trivializes how being a demon may affect you, but the genuine curiosity he has and the casualness of it all can be endearing (this casualness is, of course, completely gone once you show the same amount of interest in him).

Don't expect him to be more protective of you or anything on the spot--you've managed to live with your human disguise for this long, Abby doesn't see the point in stepping in when you're already so capable at taking care of yourself. He can, but only if you ask him yourself as some sort of favour, he doesn't mind at all.

You'll just have to live with him being funny or flirty about it. You need to cover your patterns? Well, good thing it's cold and you can wear his jacket, it smells just like him and it looks great on you. Wink.

MYSTERY

Mystery is a tricky one, because chances are that he's already figured out you're a demon very early on, so it's not exactly a surprise.

His reaction to this information is also very underwhelming, since it's not exactly his business to pry into your life or what you might be doing; if you're just an acquaintance, he literally couldn't care less. You do you. And if you're someone close to him, then he's not going to say a single thing about it either, that's for you to bring up whenever you feel like. And even then, he would just give you a smile and a thumbs up. Easy peasy.

Of course, he's still a demon himself, one that is driven a lot by his instincts (ie: the feral barking, like, hello?) so while he knows it's best to wait until you come to him with this part of yourself, he might just end up slipping.

I like to portray Mystery as someone who prefers being a demon over a human, no matter the caveats and disadvantages that come with an indentured existence to Gwi-ma, so if you're the type to struggle to keep your humanity despite being a demon, that might rub him the wrong way. Because that means you disapprove of your demonic heritage, that you disapprove of him by extension. Whenever you say something about changing, about fitting in--anything he can relate to the way you're hiding in the human world--there's a chance Mystery might just snap with an off-handed comment, carelessly tossed your way in reproach. Something that very clearly states he knows you're like him.

Mystery's reaction to finding out you're a demon is so very underwhelming because he accepts this part of you so easily, you're a demon like him and he likes sharing something so meaningful to him with you. The games of repression and the emotional baggage that people like Rumi or Romance play don't interest him in the slightest. He's also a bit similar to Jinu in the way that he doesn't care about how you became a demon--or rather, he doesn't need to know, especially if you're trying to justify yourself in any way. He'll definitely listen if it's something you desperately want to tell him, but it won't change the way he feels about you.

I can see Mystery slowly helping you come around with accepting your demon heritage, not quite hyping you up but clearly approving when you let go from time to time--he loves your claws, your odd skin demonic tone, and he especially adores seeing your real eyes glow whenever you get worked up over something. That's what he considers the real you.

100% enables you to be a little more fiercer, to take advantage of your current situation. What's the point of being doomed for all eternity if you can't have fun with it from time to time?

BABY

Right off the bat, if you're not the one to tell him you're a demon and he has to find out due to a third party? He'd be pissed. Absolutely fucking pissed that you didn't tell him yourself, especially if you're someone he holds close to his heart. Two months of the silent treatment at minimum.

What's the point of all the special privileges he gives you as his equal if you won't tell him something like this? Something that actually matters? You're supposed to be his bestie, his second in command, the one person he actually respects. Nevermind the fact that Baby wouldn't reciprocate in this aspect; he expects you to tell him, but wouldn't tell you he's a demon if that ever put the band in trouble.

But if you do tell him, then Baby would be ecstatic--while he's not fully accepting of being a demon due to how stressful it can be sometimes, how much he hates not getting his way when confronted with Gwi-ma and all, he's similar to Mystery in the sense that he likes matching with you.

Instantly demands to see your patterns, to see how much yours match his, basically hopping in circles around you, full of giddy energy. Baby also carries a similar energy to Abby in this aspect, being more playful than downright depressing like Jinu, but in a way that is definitely more careless and focused on how this reveal makes him feel, rather than how it might affect you.

If this bothers you in any way, it's up to you to reel him in and sit him down to properly talk. And trust me, he hates that you're raining on his parade but a few jokes and half-hearted threats here and there to snitch on him whenever he skips a rehearsal will get Baby to sit down.

I like to think that there's a game of push and pull with Baby in which you constantly have to reel him in from his usual bratty shenanigans, but it's not like you're actually babysitting him, a grown ass demon--everyone knows that if Baby doesn't feel like doing something, he simply won't. The fact that he listens and heeds to your words is already earth-shattering for his band mates, absolute proof that you're very special for him, even if he treats the story of how you became a demon like casual coffee talk gossip.

Oh and don't expect him to cover up for you--there is a part of Baby that resents having to hide what he is, so if you're ever at the verge of being revealed to the world, you can bet it's because of one of his elaborate pranks. "Don't you want to know what would happen if everyone knew?" This is the only time he wouldn't mind revealing himself.

[universefcb]

Hiii can you do Hector Fort x reader?

Where Reader tells Hector that she wants to get a tattoo and he should pick a tattoo for her 😽

TATTOO MY NAME WITH INVISIBLE INK

→ Pairing: Hector Fort X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff.

→ Author's note: I didn't really understand this request, but I did my best to do it.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Sunday was slow, almost in slow motion. The living room curtains danced with the warm wind that came in from the balcony, the sound of the city echoed in the distance, as if the world outside was in snooze mode. She was lying on the couch, her legs thrown over his, while Héctor scrolled through his cell phone feed without paying attention to anything. The television was on, but it was just background noise. The world seemed to pause when they were together like that.

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,” she said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence of the afternoon.

Héctor looked away from his cell phone and looked at her face with a surprised expression.

“You? Seriously?”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips.

“I’ve thought about it several times, but I always give up because I can’t choose anything. And then a crazy idea came to me…”

“Here it comes,” he said, chuckling softly, playing with her fingers.

“I wanted you to pick out the tattoo. Like... everything. The design, the meaning. It would be yours, you know?”

For a few seconds, Héctor didn't respond. He just stared at her as if he was trying to understand if that was a provocation or a serious proposal.

“Are you telling me that you want to mark something on your skin that I will choose, without knowing what it is?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

“I want it to be something of yours in me. And I trust you.”

Héctor swallowed hard, surprised by the weight of it. It wasn't just a tattoo. It was a commitment. It was a mark she would choose to carry forever, simply because it came from him.

“I take this more seriously than you think,” he said, gently running his fingers over her face. “If it’s going to be mine, it’s going to be real. Are you ready?”

She smiled, her gaze calm.

“I was born prepared for you.”

Three days later, he showed up at her apartment with an envelope in his hands and his heart pounding as if it were going to jump out of his throat. She was sitting on the living room rug with a glass of wine, barefoot, and her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“So? Have you decided?”

Héctor approached and sat down next to her. He handed her the envelope without saying a word.

She opened it carefully, and inside was the drawing: a delicate olive branch, thin, as if drawn by hand with a pen. Around the branch was a Latin phrase: "Fortitudo in amore."

She read it quietly, trying to translate it mentally.

“It means strength in love,” he explained before she could ask. “That’s what I see in you. A beautiful, light strength. You love as if loving were simple. And that makes me want to be a better person.”

She looked at the drawing more closely, her eyes beginning to shine.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s you,” he replied, leaning his forehead against hers. “I thought I’d put it just below the rib cage, on the left side. Near the heart.”

“I loved the place,” she said. “But what does it mean to you?”

Hector took a deep breath.

“That wherever you go, you will take a piece of me with you. And that what we have is strong enough to stay engraved. Even if life changes, even if everything passes... this remains.”

On the afternoon of the tattoo, she was tense, but she tried to hide it. Héctor didn't leave her side for a second. Sitting in a chair next to her, he held her hand firmly while the tattoo artist prepared the materials.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, just so she could hear.

She nodded, but never let go of his hand.

As the line began, she bit her lip, trying not to move.

“Look at me,” Héctor said, and when she turned her face, he smiled. “You are brave. And you are even more beautiful now.”

Hours later, at home, she was lying face down on the bed, with the bandage on her skin and a look of happy exhaustion. Héctor appeared with a glass of water and lay down next to her, observing every detail of her body as if he had never seen it before.

“Doesn’t it hurt anymore?” he asked, lightly touching the edge of the bandage.

“It’s burning a little… but I would do it all over again just to see your face when I showed you that I loved you.”

He smiled and moved closer. He ran his fingers around the spot, not touching it directly, and kissed the skin beside it, with an almost reverent calm.

“You have no idea what this means to me,” he murmured against her skin. “Seeing something of mine marked on you like this... it feels like I belong to you even more.”

She turned her face and looked at him with a soft smile.

“As if I didn’t already belong?”

“Now it’s official. Signed on the skin.”

He pulled her in carefully, respecting the sensitive area, and wrapped his arms around her. They both stood there, in silence, wrapped in a feeling that was hard to describe. It wasn't just love—it was presence, security, truth. As if, in that moment, the world had become too small to contain everything they felt.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, his eyes already closing.

"He can."

“I'm thinking about getting a tattoo too.”

“Really?” She turned her head, surprised.

“Uh-huh. A symbol of ours alone. But the place… will be hidden. Only you will see it.”

She chuckled softly, her body fitting better into his.

“Then choose carefully, Fort. Because if it is mine alone, I will keep it as the greatest treasure.”

“It is,” he replied. “It is yours alone.”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinott @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[chaoticdreamersthings]

Out of the blue

!!!!!!WARNING!! EXPLICIT RPF BELOW!!!!!!!

MDNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Joost

Description: You, your friends and Joost went on a trip to Japan together - your friends constantly make jokes about you two being in love, so you start considering whether you actually like him.

Content: EXPLICIT RPF, smut, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV, public place, creampie, friends to lovers, mutual pining, BLUE hair JOOST!!

Author's note: it's here!! Initially the couple of friends were Apson and Alanis but it weirded me out so i changed them to some random names.

Word count: 9.2 k

EXPLICIT RPF BELOW

The friends’ vacation almost never makes it past the group chat. You plan, decide on the best place for everyone, share all the things you would love to do, all the places you would want to visit. But then work gets in the way, someone doesn’t have money, someone else hates the chosen spot — and then it just doesn’t happen.

But not with this group of friends. You started planning it — what — two months ago? And now here you are, all of you, standing in front of one of the huge billboards on a busy street in Tokyo. 

You had a lot of things planned, but you made sure to leave space for the best kind of spontaneity — late nights out, drinks, and just walking the crowded streets. You loved that part. Especially with these people.

Time slipped through your fingers. Two weeks ago you were packing your bags, full of excitement, and now you only have a few days left to make this trip unforgettable. It kind of already is — but you know you have to make the most of these last days.

The weather was surprisingly warm for May, almost like summer, but after the long, gray winter back in the Netherlands, you were happy to feel the heat again. 

You adjust your hat, squinting up at the sky, then look over at your friends. 

You’re waiting for a taxi to take you to the hotel — after hours of walking, your legs feel like lead, and the sun has took every last bit of energy out of you. You desperately need a good shower. The moment you slide into the back seat of the cab, you’re hit with a rush of crisp, cool air. You sigh, grateful. It’s the kind of relief that feels perfect after a long day.

“Where’s Joost?” You ask, raising your brow as the car begins to move. You hadn’t noticed when he left the group.

“He had some appointment or something. I don’t know — he didn’t share the details. Why? Do you miss him already?” Bryan replies, wiggling his eyebrows in that exaggerated, teasing way.

Somehow, over the course of this trip, you and Joost have become a favorite target. You’re not sure if it’s because of something one of you said or did, or if your friends just needed a new “victim” to tease.

You liked him, obviously. How could you not? He was a great friend. Funny, thoughtful, tall, blonde and honestly handsome in that effortlessly cool, artsy kind of way. He didn’t chase after the typical masculine style, didn’t need to. He treated women with respect, held conversations that actually meant something, and he seemed genuinely in touch with his emotions. Technically, he had everything you liked. 

But it had always been just friendship. Long-standing and uncomplicated. There’d never been a spark, or at least not one you allowed yourself to notice. You assumed he felt the same. Maybe you both did. Maybe that’s what made it work so well all these years. Or maybe you just never stopped to question it until now.

Somehow, during this trip, your friends decided the two of you were secretly in love — and made you the punchline of every joke. It seemed insane at first, but over time, you started wondering if it really did look like that. You started pulling back, creating space. Not because Joost had done anything, but because the constant jokes made you hyper-aware of every shared glance, every casual interaction. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable — or worse, embarrass yourself.

Each night, back at the hotel, you found yourself trying to figure out where it all came from, running the same questions through your head. Do I like him? Could this be something? Should we even go there… or would that ruin everything?

The idea seemed absolutely ridiculous — you’d never sensed a single sign from him that he might be interested in being anything more than friends. And you? You were never interested in anything beyond friendship either.

Unless…

No, stop. Unless nothing. You don’t want to lose a solid, easy friendship. You don’t want to risk it for a one-night stand you’d both regret or some other stupid mistake. It’s good the way it is, and they are just messing with your head. You won’t let it get to you.

“Are we going for karaoke tonight?” Julia’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts about Joost. You blush a little, realizing how lost you’d been in your head — you almost worry they might’ve somehow heard your thoughts.

“Oh, yes. I have to take a shower first, though.” You reply, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah, obviously. I can make a reservation for us. 8 pm?” She looks around, checking for nods and approval from the rest.

You nod your head.

You get to the hotel — luckily, there was a mix-up and you ended up with a big room all to yourself. For a while, you scroll through photos from the day, adjusting lighting, adding filters, laughing quietly at the candid shots your friends. Then scrolling through TikToks. Who doesn’t love a little bed-rotting after a busy day? 

You love sightseeing, but you have to admit — you love the comfort of a soft bed after a full day on your feet just as much, if not more.

Time passes and eventually you pull yourself up and head to the shower. The warm water  soothes your skin, the scent of the shower gel calming your senses. Just as you step out, wrapped in a soft towel, there’s a knock on the door.

You raise your brows. It’s probably Julia, or someone else from the group, so you don’t bother changing. With your hair still wet, and the towel knotted at your chest, you open the door slightly — just enough to see who it is.

“Oh… Joost,” you say, a little surprised by his presence. You were sure he had something going on, that you wouldn’t see him until karaoke. 

He stands there, slightly awkward, his gaze going up and down just once before he quickly refocuses on your face.

“Hey… sorry, am I interrupting?” He asks, looking a bit confused as his eyes take in your current “outfit”. And suddenly, the towel feels a little too thin.

“No, no… sorry, I just got out of the shower” you say, looking at him apologetically. You suddenly feel a little stupid — after all, the only thing between you and being completely naked is a fluffy hotel towel. “You can come in.” You say, opening the door wider. Not because you particularly want him to, but because standing in the hallway like this feels worse. You really don’t want anyone catching sight of the two of you talking while you’re barely dressed. They’re already making assumptions over nothing — you can’t imagine the comments if they saw this.

He steps inside, and you close the door behind him.

“Wait a minute… did you dye your hair?” You ask, watching him step deeper into the room. You get a better look at him in the light coming through the window.

His hair, once bleached nearly white, now fades into a blue ombre — from white at the roots, bright blue to deep navy at the tips. You’re not sure how you feel about it. It’s bold and unexpected, the mullet cut paired with this intense color— but if anyone could pull it off, it was him. 

“Do you like it?” He asks with a smile. You get the feeling he was waiting for you to notice.

You take a longer look. You liked his light blonde hair, but this felt more like him—matching his personality, and his unique music and art style. And it made his piercing blue eyes stand out even more.

“I do.” You say, smiling. “For some reason it’s so you.” You keep the distance, sitting on the bed, making sure that the towel covers everything it should.

He chuckles.

“Maybe.” He replies.

You both stay silent for a few minutes, until he seems to remember why he came in the first place.

“Oh — can you send me the pictures you took today? I would like to post something on my story.” 

Something about that feels off — like the pictures are just a convenient excuse. Maybe he really just wanted to show you his new hair.

“Oh… yeah, sure.” You grab your phone from the bed and scroll through to find his photos.

He settles beside you on the bed, shoulder brushing close as you both scroll through the photos. He leans in a little more to get a better look at the screen, and his cologne hits your nose - warm and a little intoxicating.

He’s so close - and you’re still just in that goddamn towel. It feels dangerous, somehow.

You sense a shift in the air, your cheeks warming. Quickly, you drop your gaze back to the screen. 

What is it? Is it the fact that his arm is so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body? Is it the smell of his cologne — warm, woodsy, him? Is it the fact that you’re wearing almost nothing?

Do you actually like him?

“So, these are the ones?” You ask, selecting the pictures to airdrop. You hope your voice sounds natural, trying to ignore whatever is happening inside of you.

“Yeah, those. And thank you” his voice seems lower than usual, and he’s so close to your ear, that a shiver runs down your spine. 

You lift your head, slowly, to meet his eyes. His arm lightly brushes yours, and you lick your lips — suddenly, the air in the room feels hotter than the water in your shower earlier. 

You wonder what he’s thinking. His eyes are darker now, pupils wide, lips slightly parted like he was just about to say something — or maybe not. Maybe he’s just feeling something. 

What is this? 

You both stare at each other for a moment longer. For a second too long. You catch his gaze flick to your lips the moment you lick them. Then he’s back, looking into your eyes again.

The intensity of his gaze makes you uncomfortable, so you get up. You think that if you stay there, you might end up kissing him — and that wouldn’t be very smart, right? Especially given what you’re wearing.

“Erm… I’ll get ready. Let’s meet at the karaoke?” You say. You don’t want to sound like you’re throwing him out, but it kind of comes off that way. 

Maybe that’s exactly what needs to happen

And anyway, it’s true — you do need to get ready. 

*

Shibuya, in person looks exactly as big and colorful as in the videos and pictures. Hundreds of neon signs, colorful billboards and screens, thousands of people crossing the street. Many of them dressed in completely eccentric styles.

And you — right in the middle of it all. You try to look everywhere at once, to take it all in,  the sound, the motion, the energy. You want to somehow store this view in your memory — because who knows if you’ll ever be back? 

You got to the place early, so you decide to get a couple of beers at a nearby bar. You’re not complaining — you’re not the best singer, and karaoke always feels like a gamble between fun and mild humiliation. You’re already running through a mental list of easy songs — the ones that won’t make you sound like a dying cat in front of your friends. Or maybe something ridiculous enough that no one even cares how it sounds.

You’ve never been to a karaoke like this before. The only ones you’ve experienced were the drunken karaoke nights in bars — where tipsy students shouted lyrics more than sang them, and the whole bar joined in for the chaos. But you were always a part of the crowd. Public performances? Being on stage? No way.

Still, you don’t want to be the party pooper tonight, so you’ve decided — you’re going to take part.

Your friends couldn’t be more different. Well — not all of them. But the guys? They live for this kind of things. Screaming into microphones, picking the most ridiculous songs, arguing dramatically about whose turn it is next. 

You’ve known them long enough to know what kind of absolute circus is about to unfold. But honestly? As much as you’d never admit it to them, you kind of love it.

The moment you walk in, they’re already digging through the costumes, trying on the wildest hats and wigs. You and Julia shake your heads in disbelief — it really does feel like traveling with a group of overgrown kids sometimes.

“Did you choose already?” Bryan grins, adjusting the pirate hat on his head like it’s the peak of fashion.

“Yeah, no way I’m wearing that” she says, shaking her head.

“I am though” you say, surprising even yourself.

Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s the guys’ infectious excitement. Either way you find yourself looking through the costumes too. You don’t feel like changing clothes, so you settle on a blue wig with ponytails and a matching tie. You’re not sure if it’s a character from a manga or anime — and honestly, you don’t really care. 

All that matters Is that it looks cute, and it’ll make for some fun photos.

Julia finally gives in and picks out a hat — nothing too wild, just enough to say fine, I’m playing too. The guys are still in full chaos mode, layering on more accessories like it’s a competition— Joost is already wearing a hat, oversized glasses and a giant fake dollar-sign necklace.

“It’s like kids in a candy store” you comment, chuckling. 

You finally enter the room — it’s already filled with snacks. A girl from the bar comes in to explain how everything works: how to choose songs, how to start and stop them, how to order drinks if you need more. 

You’re not sure about the others, but the first thing you do is ordering a drink — you know you’ll need more than one before you’re brave enough to sing.

“Let’s get started” one of your friends says, scrolling through the “Last Played” song list.

“I like the hair” you don’t even notice Joost coming closer until he’s suddenly standing next to you, his arm slightly brushing yours. Damn — it’s the second time today, and again it stirs that strange feeling in your stomach.

“Oh, thanks” you smile. You try to sound casual, but you’re not sure how well you’re pulling it off.

“It matches mine” he smiles. You look at him, and for a second, you catch something in his expression — as if he’s genuinely happy you chose this color. His color. Well, almost his color — his blue hair tips are way darker, but still, both are shades of blue. 

“You think?” You ask, fingers lightly brushing over the silky strands of the wig.

He looks at you, as if he wanted to ask you something. There’s a question in his eyes, something unreadable but intense. Has he always looked at you like this? And you’re only noticing now because your friends planted the idea?

Or… did something actually change during this trip? 

But as quickly as the moment builds, he lets it go. He turns away and calls across the room:

“It’s your turn, Bryan! Come on, show us what you got.” 

He as Bryan selects YMCA. This might get interesting.

The rest of the evening goes perfectly — everyone’s singing, drinking, and having fun. You give a strong performance of I need a hero which makes you regret that there wasn’t a Fairy Godmother costume from Shrek. Later you belt out Spice Girls with all the guys —arms around each other, voices blending into one. Performing turns out to be a lot better than you expected — especially with the guys cheering you on, no matter how off-key you might be.

The night goes a little too well, Bryan ends up passed out on the table, completely drunk — you didn’t even notice when he got that far gone. 

“I have to take him home.” Julia says, sighing. "I knew that last drink would be too much for him.” She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed that he didn’t listen.

“I can help you.” You offer, glancing at Bryan — his face slumped on the table, lips slightly parted. 

“No, the guys already offered help. We’ll take him back and you and Joost can stay — there’s like half an hour left, so sing something fun!” She says quickly, already grabbing Bryan’s things.

“Come on, Julia. I’ll help you — I want to make sure he’s okay” you say, frowning. You feel slightly excluded, but more than that, something about it feels… planned.

She glances at her phone and then back at you.

“Actually, the taxi’s already here. Thank you, baby” she smiles.

You watch Julia and the other guys lift Bryan up. He’s completely wasted — or at least it seems that way. His head slumps forward, resting awkwardly on his chest, and his eyes remain closed — completely unbothered by the events around him.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should go with you. There’s still room in the taxi.” You offer, concern in your voice.

“No,  really — there’s no need. Just enjoy the karaoke” she replies quickly, already halfway out the door as they shuffle with nearly-unconscious Bryan between them. Before you can say anything else, the door closes behind them, leaving you and Joost alone in the room.

You stand there awkwardly, looking at Joost, while the music to an Abba song plays softly in the background, but there’s no one singing it.

You can’t shake off the feeling that they planned this all along. Now you’re alone with Joost, practically forced into a one-on-one conversation. After all the comments they made earlier it feels more than a little suspicious. Not that you’re complaining… but still, the coincidence is hard to ignore. You’re alone with Joost.

“What do you think about them constantly trying to set us up?” He chuckles. “They’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

“I know.” You sigh “Well… sometimes those comments make me a little uncomfortable. It’s like… I don’t know why they’re pushing so hard. If we wanted to do something, we would.” You shrug, avoiding his gaze. Even though you’ve known each other for a long time, it doesn’t make this conversation any easier. Or maybe it even makes it even harder.

“So you don’t?” He asks, his voice quieter now.

“Don’t… what?” You frown, surprised by his question. You really don’t like the way this conversation is going, and you wish you could just skip it — the questions from your friends were enough of a torture.

“You don’t think we want to do something with this?” He adds.

“Erm… i don’t?” You say, but you’re not convinced and it comes off more as a question than an answer. “Do you?” 

He looks at you with an unreadable expression. You can’t tell what he’s thinking - and he doesn’t even answer your question. Instead, he hands you the microphone. 

“Come on. It’s your last chance.” He says, encouraging you.

You scroll through the song list, but the words on the screen blur together. Your mind is somewhere else entirely, looping back to what he just said — or more accurately, what he didn’t say.

Does he want to do something with that? If so, what does he want? Just to sleep with you? Ask you out? Or maybe… nothing at all?

“I think you need help.” He comes over, takes away the microphone and picks a song. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you join in. He couldn’t look more stupid than singing “Oops I did it again”, but you can’t deny he’s a performer. Even here, in a small room, with only you as an audience.

You’re having fun with him, you can’t lie. You like the way he smiles, the way he jumps around like a kid while singing, and the childish jokes he throws in now and then.

But the idea that he might be into you? That never crossed your mind. You always saw him as someone out of your league — not because of his looks, but because of his fame, social status and the fact that he was always surrounded by well-known people. You assumed he had so many women around that he would never be interested in you. 

And it’s not that you had low self esteem, or thought you weren’t good enough or cool enough. You just figured he would prefer someone who lived the same lifestyle — not a regular girl with a regular job. 

You also had always thought he was too busy with his career, his art, and his own projects. He never really talked much about love or relationships. He never shared much about that part of his life — a private side, you assumed. But maybe it wasn’t privacy at all. Maybe there just wasn’t much happening there. Now that you think about it, it seems obvious that he just didn’t go out with girls very often.

Damn, for someone who “never considered it” you sure have thought about it A LOT. Maybe you really are to stupid to notice if you like him and needed your friends’ help to take the next step. You glance at him, and he’s looking at you, smiling.

You wonder if he knows he planted that seed in your mind, and if he’s thinking about it right now.

You look at him again — his hair catching the vibrant glow of the karaoke lights, his eyes lighting up as he sigs, the little dimple appearing every time he smiles, or laughs. Your arm brushes his, and you feel the moment. Just a few words from him have already changed everything between you. The atmosphere has shifted and there’s no going back now — only deeper into this new, unknown territory.

His hand slides gently reaching to your waist, tentative, yet confident, and you don’t resist. You don’t encourage it either, but you want to see what happens, to see what he does next. The next song is already playing, but you barely notice because with one, quick movement he pulls you closer, your chest touches his.

Your eyes meet as his hand finds the small of your back, pushing you gently against him. You freeze, unsure if you want this, if this is how you want it, or if it should even happen. But you don’t stop it — you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before.

But none of this matters now, because without asking for permission, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

Your body stops, eyes searching his, caught between surprise and uncertainty — should you lean in or step back?

“What are you doing?” Your voice is barely a whisper. 

His expression shifts — a flush of shame coloring his cheeks as he looks away. The vulnerability in his eyes betrays the surprise of your reaction. 

“I thought you…” he mumbles.

“Hey” you say, lifting his chin so he looks into your eyes again.

He meets your gaze, though with less confidence this time. You smile softly and press a small, delicate kiss to his lips.

He takes it as a permission. His hand trails lightly over the fabric of your t-shirt, warm and tentative. You place one hand on his arm, and let him draw closer for another kiss. His lips meet yours again — hungry, urgent — like he’s been wanting this for years. His nose touches yours, and his blonde mustache tickles your skin. The anticipation stirs a new hunger inside you.

His tongue enters your mouth, and you close your eyes, letting your own tongue join the dance. You stay in that moment longer than you expected, unaware that you’re slowly guiding him toward the sofa behind the snack table as your tongues brush together.

You pause briefly and he sinks onto the sofa, gazing up at you with a soft smile.

“You look amazing.” he says, looking up at you. “that blue wig suits you perfectly.”

“I love your hair.” You whisper, a soft smile curving your lips as your fingers weave gently through the ombre strands.

There isn’t much room left, so you shift to settle on one of his thighs. He brushes aside some strands of the synthetic wig, his gaze lingering on your face like he wants to memorize every detail.

Without warning, he pulls you back into a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue parting your lips, demanding entrance. His hands go to your hips, steadying you, while your fingers lose themselves in the tangled mess of his hair. The heat between you grows with every second — your hips pressed to his thigh, every heartbeat stretching the tension tighter, daring to cross the line.

“We should move this somewhere else” he breathes inside your lips.

“Mhm…” you mumble, barely hearing him. You’re too caught in the heat of it all — in the press of his body, in the way your pulse stumbles every time his hands tighten at your hips. Your body begins to move on its own, rocking gently against his thigh. You silently thank your past self for choosing a skirt tonight. The only barrier between you and him is barely-there lace — and the rough texture of his jeans beneath you is impossible to ignore. Your eyes flutter closed. In this moment, you surrender completely — not to him, but to the gravity that seems to pull you toward something inevitable.

“What are you doing?” He whispers inside your ear, while you feel pulsing desire between your legs. You desperately need more of him, the thin fabric of your panties is digging into your pussy. How did you get so horny so quickly? You feel your cheeks growing hot. You arch your back, pushing your crotch against his thigh. Every move makes you lose yourself more in desire, but you still want more.

At this point you can feel your panties are all wet, you know you shouldn’t do it here, but you lost all self control. His hands move carefully under your skirt. He puts them both on your buttocks, squeezing them in his hands. It only adds to the overwhelming craving you’re already feeling for him. You lean forward, your forehead brushing against his as your fingers grip the back of his neck, steadying yourself. You feel the urgency building, his touch only fueling the fire inside you.

“You don’t like it?” You tease, faking a pout, your eyes wide with passion. You already know the answer — but hearing it from him is what fuels you even more.

“Oh, i don’t just like it… I love it.” He breaths into your ear, one hand tightening around your hip as he helps you guide your rhythm. 

You sigh, feeling a familiar sensation building between your legs. You’re willing to risk it all, do anything with him here. You don’t care that it’s a public place. In fact, it only adds to your desire. You’re about to reach for the belt on his pants, but a knock on the door sobers you up.

You jump off Joost’s lap, completely pulled out of the intimate moment between the two of you. The girl from the bar steps inside, and lets you know that your time is up, but you can purchase more if you’d like.

You feel your cheeks flush, your lips still shiny from the kiss. You look at him — his hair is a mess, his pupils still blown wide. You’re pretty sure she knows what just happened here — maybe that’s even why she came in. 

Maybe they have cameras — no, of course there are cameras. The thought crashes into your mind like a cold splash, something you hadn’t considered before giving in to the moment. Had they been watching? Had someone seen the way you kissed him like you were starving? Just the thought of it makes you bite your cheek.

But then you think — you would love to watch it too. You imagine a black-and-white, low-quality footage of you grinding hungrily on his thigh, his hands on your hips, your mouths locked in a desperate kiss. The memory alone makes the pulse between your legs throb again, a cruel reminded of what you were just pulled away from.  Instinctively, you press your thighs together for a relieve, and you catch Joost watching, his eyes flickering with want before quickly looking away. 

You step out the room, the blue wig still crooked on your head, your eyes never leaving Joost. You could have stayed inside, but moving it somewhere else was definitely the safer option.

What should you do now? Continue what you started? Go to the hotel and have sex? Go to the hotel and never speak of what just happened? Go for a walk instead? 

You have no idea how to proceed. You stand there, with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and a head full of thoughts you don’t want to share with anyone.

He stands so close beside you that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You steal a glance at him, wondering if his thoughts are the same — the awkward hesitation, the uncertainty of what comes next. And most of all: does he want there to be a next?

“I have to give this back” you finally say, pointing to the wig. But when you look around, you don’t see any of the staff.

“What if you don’t? I like the way it looks” he says quietly, though you’re the only ones there.

“Are you telling me to steal it?” You ask, rising your eyebrows. 

“Umm… i guess? If we start running now, who will know you took it?” He smiles — and in that moment, he looks like the boy you met years ago.

You share a quick glance, and with some unspoken understanding, you both start running — bursting out of the karaoke place and into the Tokyo night. You don’t stop there; you keep running down the street, hands locked together, weaving through the crowd, stealing glances at each other to silently agree on which way to turn. You bump into a few people, but there’s no time to apologize.

You finally stop in a quiet side street, your heart pounding in your chest. You bend over slightly, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh my god” you say, between gasps. “This is the first time I’ve ever stolen something” you chuckle. “And you made me do it!”

“Really?” He asks, genuinely surprised. “Not even a candy bar from a supermarket?”

You shake your head as a “no”. He steps closer to you, finally catching his breath, and adjusts the blue wig on your head.

“It was worth it though. It matches your outfit. I’m sorry I led you down the criminal path.” He chuckles, his face now inches closer, the glow of neon lights dancing in his eyes. He looks so beautiful — had he always looked like that? Or did Japan, and your little moment in the karaoke room, somehow made him more attractive? 

“You’d look perfect in anything though.” He adds. “I liked that towel on you today, too. I think even more than the wig.” He flashes you a cheeky smile.

You feel a blush creeping into your cheeks — you hadn’t expected those kinds of words from him. Yes, you kissed — well, almost fucked — but now what? Are you heading in the direction of being a couple? What is going on? You thought it would lean more toward a friends-with-benefits situation, but what if he actually likes you?

“What now?” You breath out right into his lips. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” You ask.

“Well…” he murmurs, his lips brushing your neck, leaving behind a few warm, wet kisses. “Yes. I want to continue what we started.”

His words ignite something inside you, but you try to keep your cool — no need to ruin the moment.

He orders an Uber, and since the hotel is close to the center, it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get there.

“We should be quiet. I can’t stand the thought of them winning and being right about us.” You chuckle. 

Joost smiles, and offers you his hand, his fingers locking with yours as he leads you to the elevator. The wig on your head slips slightly to the side, but you don’t bother to fix it. As soon as the elevator doors close, he’s all over you. His kisses trail from your jaw to your neck, and his hands slide from your hips to your tummy, then down to your ass grabbing it with hunger that makes your knees weak. 

In front of you, the elevator mirror captures everything: the way his body presses into yours, the tilt of your head as you give in, the heat building in your face. You watch it all in the reflection and somehow it only turns you on more.

“Damn boy” you whisper into his ear, as his kisses move to your collarbones. “We're just  a few seconds from the room — wait a little.” you say, as his finger is sliding up your thigh, getting dangerously close to the edge of your panties.

“Yeah?” He replies with a smirk, his voice full of confidence “You weren’t particularly patient today back in the karaoke room.” He clearly enjoys the thought — and the image of you being all over him. 

You smile just at a memory — he’s absolutely right. You weren’t. And you sure as hell are not going to be patient now either. The tip of his finger slowly climbs up your thigh, tickling your skin that is already burning with desire. He presses his fingers against your clit through the soft fabric of your underwear.

“Oh…” he says, a confident smirk on his face, when he feels how wet he already got you. “So ready for what’s about to come…”

You look at him, ready to give back a teasing response — but the elevator doors slide open. You’re lucky that it’s late and the hallway is empty, but you’re almost certain the noise the two of you are making — your laughter, your rushed footsteps — is enough to wake at least a few sleeping hotel guests behind closed doors.

The way to the room’s door is interrupted by gentle touches and fleeting kisses. You clumsily reach for the key card, but before you can open the door ad slide inside he pushes you against the wall next. His gentle kisses slowly move from your ear to your lips. One hand rests on the back of your neck, the other gently moves along your arm. Even the most delicate touch makes your breath quicken. His fingers slowly hook into the strap of your top, sliding it down your forearm and his wet kisses go down your neck, to stop at your breasts.

You barely hold the key card in your fingers, while his hand reaches under your skirt, fingers sliding up and down the thin material of your panties. Finally his fingertips softly tickle your sensitive skin, curling his fingers under the hem of your underwear to pull it to the side and run the finger through your folds. You feel your whole body coil from both desire and a fear of getting caught — by the hotel workers, or even worse — by your friends.

“So…so ready…” he whispers directly into your ear, pushing back the blue strands . His warm, wet lips brushing against your ear. “didn’t you say you don’t want anything?”

You want to say something but your mind seems to be completely clouded with his fingers still moving along your slick folds. He leaves a soft kiss in the crook between your neck and shoulder, and before you can even form a sentence, he kneels before you.

Damn, you’re still in the hallway. You can’t make the same mistake twice. There are DEFINITELY cameras here.

But it doesn’t matter anymore — or at least it doesn’t matter enough for you to be able to find the sense to stop it. But you’re not — you are too far gone now.

His teeth lightly nip at your skin then catch the hem of your panties, tugging at them with deliberate slowness. He pulls them down your thighs, helping himself with his fingers on the other side of your hips.

Can it get any better? 

You’re about to find out, when distant voices and the creak of an opening door snap you out of the moment. You quickly pull your skirt lower and with your panties just above your knees open the room door with the key pass you were still (barely) holding in your hand. 

You step into the room, the door still hanging open behind you, as you drag him along — still on his knees — across the threshold. From the hallway, it would probably look pretty ridiculous. 

You can’t help but laugh at the situation, but he cuts it off with another kiss, standing up and guiding you toward the bed.

“What if they saw us?” You ask, breaking the kiss to look at him, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugs “We would give them a show”

He takes off your top, still guiding you toward the bed. You sit down, the blue wig slightly askew. You reach your hand to take it off, but his hand catches yours before you can.

“No, keep it on.”

You raise your eyebrow. Does that turn him on? Or maybe it is the fact that it’s similar to his and he likes to think that’s why you wore it?

You move to the centre of the bed, legs parting just enough to let him settle between them. He unzips his pants, leaving only his underwear. You reach for his t-shirt, and tug it over his head, your lips trail slowly from his neck, to his shoulders, planting a line of warm kisses that linger on his skin.

Joost takes off your skirt, sliding it down along with your panties in one swift motion. You’re completely naked now, sitting there on the bed. The bright blue wig is a striking contrast to the warmth in your cheeks. Your eyes, slightly glassy from emotion and anticipation, look up at him — hungry and vulnerable. 

His hand goes to your crotch, and he teases your folds with his soft fingers. You are already so turned on by what he did earlier that the slightest movement and the slightest touch makes you sigh and quiver on the bed. You move your hips forward, hungry for his touch.

“I will take care of you” he finally whispers into your ear, he reaches for your back to unclip your bra and take it off. His finger is teasing your entrance, threatening to slip in, while his lips touch the skin around your nipples. They’re are soft and a little cold, in contrast to your heated skin. He sticks out his tongue to flick your nipple, to then suck on it.

A thrill runs through you as you look at him, the view only making you more aroused. Oh, this is going to be good. Your breath quickens and your skin tingles with anticipation.

He slips one finger in, you lie down completely on the bed, the blue hair from the wig blend messily with your own hair across the pillow. At some point, your natural hair must have slipped free from the clip. But right now, tangled hair is the furthest thing from your thoughts.

His kisses move from your breasts, to your lower belly and you already know what he’s about to do. A shiver — equal parts anticipation and pleasure - runs through your body. His fingers press into your inner thigh with possessive pressure, the index finger of the other hand still curling inside you. You take shaky breaths, your chest rising and falling as you bite down gently on your lower lip.

“Joost…” you whisper, as your fingertips trace the curve of his cheek.

“Sh…” he quiets you, his head still dangerously close to your pussy, his breath warm against your skin.  “i’ll make you feel so, so good, I promise” his voice low and quiet.

“You don’t have to…” your voice fragile.

“I want to” he breathes out, looking at you for a moment.

You smile, as his lips finally reach the spot just above your slit. You can’t help it but let out a small moan, an expression of both pleasure and anticipation that took over your entire body. He hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already moaning. Before another groan leaves your mouth, his lips reach the folds between your legs. He doesn’t pull his finger out, he keeps moving it in and out, as his soft lips touch your clit.

You close your eyes, trying to give yourself into the pleasure, as he takes out his tongue, and slowly tickles your clit. You put your hand in his already messy hair, a quiet moan slips from your lips before you can hold it back. The touch of his warm, wet tongue sends shivers down your spine, the pleasure coils in your stomach and your free hand clenches on the sheet beneath you.

As you make yourself comfortable, he uses his other hand to open your pussy lips with his cold fingers. His tongue goes up and down your slit, to then suck on it, while you squirm on the bed in pleasure. Your eyes are closed, your mouth open, gasping for air between louder and louder moans, that you can’t hold back anymore. He abuses your sweet spot with his tongue, his soft hair tickles your underbelly. Oh he wasn’t lying when he said he will make you feel so good. 

You instinctively try to close your legs as the moans seem to reach an obscene level, but he pulls his finger out of you and puts his hand on your thigh, his finger warm and wet from where it just was. He forces your thighs to remain open, as he is far from done. You spread them open, giving him all the access.

He moves the finger back to where it was, and adds another, while the tip of his tongue touches all the most sensitive parts. You feel the orgasm getting closer and you’re selfishly trying to delay it, as the sensation of his tongue on your skin is way to good to end so quickly. You want to enjoy it longer and longer, all night if that’s possible. 

He spreads your thighs more, putting your feet on his back, he’s adding the third finger, curling it and stretching you out. Your moans reach the highest registers, but you don’t care, there are no thoughts in your mind, only pleasure taking over each corner of your brain. 

His fingers are moving at a crazy pace now, as you reach the peak of the pleasure, crying out his name in absolute chaos of emotions you’re in now. He doesn’t stop — he lets you ride your high, making use of his fingers and mouth, giving you all that he can. You don’t even notice when he stops pumping his fingers in and out of you, tears are running down your cheeks, your hands reach for the bed frame, gripping it so tightly that they turned white, the wig you were wearing lies completely tangled at the edge of the bed. 

You finally open your eyes and try to calm your breath a little, wiping sweat from your forehead. 

He kneels between your legs, his lips pink and shiny with your wetness, looking down at you, as you lie on the bed completely naked with your legs spread for him. You feel a light blush creep onto your cheeks, though after the sounds that just came out of you, it’s too late to be embarrassed. You have been friends for so many years, and if someone told you this morning that tonight you’d find yourself naked in bed with him, you would’ve laughed in disbelief.

“So beautiful.” He says, his voice a little hoarse, his fingers slowly stroke the bare skin on your thighs. “And so horny for me.” he smiles, and slides his thumb down your folds again, making you shiver with overstimulation. “Are you ready for more? I’m far from done.” 

Your lips curl softly into a confident smile.

“Of course I am. Bring it on.” You say, your voice tire but confident. You are more than ready— you crave more.

He lets out a low chuckle, his eyes fixed on your body.

“Good girl…” his voice low and raspy. “I thought you might say that.”

In one, swift motions he takes off his boxers, and you admire him, kneeling in front of you wearing nothing at all.

He slides both hands beneath your knees, lifting them up, as he shifts forward, settling himself between your legs with a slow movement. But before he slides into you, he leans down and kisses you tenderly. His lips still taste like you, but you love it, you love that you bodies seem to be connected from the very first touch, you love the hunger behind his lips, the urgency in his touch, the overwhelming desire in his eyes — because you feel the same for him. 

He slides into you and moves slowly at first, even though you don’t need to adjust too much — all that he did earlier made you wide open for him. He speeds up the pace, as one of his hands is reaching to your nipple, pulling and twisting it. You watch him, his hair moving with the rhythm, while drops of sweat glow against his pale skin under the light. He looks so good, how come you’ve never been absolutely mesmerized by his beauty before? How did it never hit you that he’s exactly your type — not just in looks, but everything else too. You could watch him like this every day: naked, beautiful, and hungry for you. Suddenly you want to give him more — the view and the sensation he won’t be able to forget. 

“Stop” you say, and when he does you sit up, your fingers wrapping around his arms with determination. With one swift motion, you guide him down, reversing your roles — now he’s the one beneath you, his back hitting the mattress as you brush your hair with your fingers. 

You sit on him, and helping yourself with your hand, you put his cock inside you so deep that it almost hurts. You throw your head back, feeling his hands reach for your butt, squeezing the cheeks in his large hands. You start moving up and down, finding your rhythm, he moves his hands to your hips, helping you get the right pace. You throw your head back, enjoying every time he fills you, bite your lip and ride him like there’s no tomorrow. You breath out, as he moves his hand up to squeeze one of your boobs in his hand. Every movement pulls you further into bliss, and you can’t help but moan his name.

“Fuck” you whisper under your breath, while he’s so deep in you. His hands explore your body, like he’s trying to memorize every curve, like he’s trying to claim every inch as his own.

“I’m close” he says, and you nod, quickening the pace and arching your back, exposing your whole body for him. He doesn’t close his eyes, he’s watching your every move, he doesn’t blink even once as not to lose sight of you. He finally finishes inside of you, but you don’t stop, you keep moving up and dow, feeling your own orgasm starting to build up. You get off him, sit on the bed and spread your legs. You’re just about to tell him to touch you, but his hands are already reaching out, eager for your body. He doesn’t need an invitation. He gets closer, looking at your pussy, dripping with his cum. 

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss full of intensity, your tongues intertwining in a rhythm that seems so desperate, and unlike any hunger you’ve ever known. He puts his hand between your legs and start patting your clit, causing you to moan against his lips, and digging your fingers into his arm. You’re already so overstimulated that you don’t need much, just a few movements of his soft fingers, pressing in just the right place, makes you completely lose yourself and he has to hold you in place with his hand. 

He gives you a second orgasm of the night, and you moan his name so loudly he eventually has to cover your mouth with his hand to muffle the sound, otherwise you’d probably wake up the whole floor. Your friends are just behind the wall — if only they knew what’s going on in that room.

Your head arches back as your fingers dig deeper into his arm. Finally, when he’s done, you breathe deeply, resting your face against his shoulder, your body still pulsing with aftershocks. You take a moment to calm yourself, then lie down on the bed, heavy with exhaustion. Joost follows, lying beside you and for a moment nothing fills the room but the sound of your heavy breaths. 

You don’t touch at all, but you’re not mad about it. You need to calm your breath, to feel the gentle breeze on your tired body. A few minutes pass, and then he finally wraps his arm around you.

You know you should talk about what just happened — Was it just a one-time thing? Should you just be friends with benefits? Does he want something more? Do you want something more?

But now it seemed like a lot of work, and you were in such a delicious state, that you didn’t want to ruin it with any serious conversations. You didn’t even know the answer to any of those questions yet.

“So… How did I do?” He asks, as you rest your cheek on his arm. He’s all sweaty, but you don’t mind. The closeness gives you comfort.

“Fishing for compliments, are we?” You laugh.

“Oh, i so am. But i earned it! At least… I think I did.” He says, looking at you like he’s searching for confirmation. 

“Yeah” you nod “I mean… you definitely do” you say, and he presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

You suddenly feel very tired — it must be really late, and you have plans for tomorrow. You should probably sleep now. But his presence feels so good, and the simple act of just lying there, touching each other gently with fingertips, and leaving small kisses on his bare skin, feels too good to give up for sleep yet.

He pulls the blanket over both of your heads and underneath it, brings you even closer than you already were, giving you yet another passionate, sweet kiss.

“Oh no, don’t start again. We have to get some sleep.” You smile. “as much as I want too…”

He chuckles.

“You’re right. But we can do it again… tomorrow… or… I don’t know if — you want?” There’s something careful, almost unsure in his tone.

Is it his attempt to have that conversation? 

“Yeah… tomorrow is good.” You nod your head.

You want to do it again — you know it — but a worry sparks in your mind: what if this turns into just booty calls? You don’t want that. You enjoy having him as your friend.

He doesn’t let you slip out of his arms, and eventually, you both fall asleep.

*

You must have been asleep for a very long time, when a sudden knocking on the door jolts you awake. It’s not just knocking — it’s loud, insistent banging. Whoever is on the other side of the door definitely isn’t planning to go away without someone opening it. 

You glance at Joost - how the hell is he still asleep?! He lies there with his mouth slightly parted, completely undisturbed.

You slip out of bed and quickly realize you’re naked — yeah, no way you’re opening the door like that. Your pajamas are crumpled on the floor, right next to the blue wig. As you pull them on, the images of the night before flash your mind, and you catch yourself smiling. You can’t wait for tonight to repeat it. 

You take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your make up is completely smudged across your face, dark circles under your eyes, your hair is a total mess. You look like someone who’s been through a lot. You’re grateful there ain’t any visible hickeys on your neck or chest— you have no idea how you’d explain that.

You smooth your hair as good as you can, swipe a finger under your eyes, and finally open the door just slightly, leaving a narrow gap. 

“Jesus Christ, finally” you hear Julia’s voice the moment the door cracks open. “What the hell? I’ve been knocking for like… ten minutes.” She sounds annoyed — as if Bryan yesterday wasn’t enough of a problem, now you’re added to the list.

“Oh… sorry, we um… drank too much yesterday I think.” You rub your eyes and try to sound casual. “I’m sorry. Whats going on? Is Bryan okay?” You ask, concerned.

“I got an email from the karaoke place saying you apparently stole the blue wig.” she says, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Wh-what?” You answer, doing your best to look confused.

Damn, in all that chaos you didn’t think about the fact that she was the one who made the reservation — of course they had her email, maybe even her phone number.

You hadn’t consider this outcome. Honestly, you hadn’t thought much at all yesterday. The second Joost touched you, it was like some switch flipped in your head — and the reason? Gone. Completely shut off.

“Can you tell me, what the hell happened? And where’s Joost?” She asks, clearly impatient. Panic sparks in your chest. You need to come up with something — fast.

“I… ummm…” you’re stumbling for words, the exhaustion and lack of real sleep aren’t helping.

“OH MY GOD” Julia says suddenly, her eyes widening in realization. Before you can stop her, she pushes the door open and walks right in.

You look at Joost. He looks at you — now awake, confused and still somewhere between sleep and shock. Thank God he’s covered with the sheets. The last thing you need is for Julia to see him naked on top of everything else.

“I knew it!” she shouts, practically pointing an accusing finger first at Joost, then at you. Her eyes land on the blue wig crumpled on the floor, and she can’t help but laugh. She goes back to the door and yells down the hallway

“Bryan! Come here, you’re not gonna believe it.”

You bury your face in your hands. All that effort to deny it, to keep it quiet, to avoid giving them the satisfaction and now she’s yelling it down the hallway for the whole damn floor to hear.

[mylovewasbulletproof]

Catalyst pt 2

couple of quick updates: I decided I’m not re-writing part 1 (at least right now) and you all seemed to enjoy it so here we go

If you haven’t read pt 1 it offers some back story but I don’t think you’ll be totally lost if you don’t read it

I have more ideas for this pairing as well as ideas for some robby pairings. let me know if you want more!

warnings: Pittfest, anxiety, panic attacks, soft!jack, canon typical injuries, likely some medical inaccuracies, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suicidal thoughts, mention of throwing up, dissociation, angst, death of a patient, still pining but getting closer for sure

Jack Abbot x R4 amputee reader

——————————————————————

You never liked working day shifts. It felt like you were too noticeable. Working the night shift had always felt comfortable. Like the darkness could hide you away if you need it to.

The only reason you were back at the Pitt was because Dana had asked you to cover for Robby. It was the anniversary of Adamson’s passing and he usually took it off.

“Did you know Dr. Robby was working today?” You asked Jack who had been giving you shift change notes

“No. No idea.” He shrugged before telling you that he would see you later for the next shift change

——————————————————————

One thing about the day shift is that you were never bored. With an average wait time of 3 hours in the waiting room, you were doing your best to treat patients and discharge them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, not everyone in the waiting room appreciated your effort.

You were checking in on Dana, who thankfully hadn’t been seriously injured by an angry patient, when she got the call.

There was a shooter at Pittfest and we needed to prepare the ER for a mass casualty incident.

Your breath hitched and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything over your heart beat echoing in your ears. A loud clap from Dr. Robby seemed to reset your senses. You hadn’t even realized that Jack was already here.

You were told that you were going to assist both the red zone and triage. Dr. Robby trusted you to make quick decisions about where you were needed most given the current patients coming in. Before patients started arriving, he asked you to start stocking all the trauma bays with the supplies coming out of the mass casualty incident bins.

“Do we have any more ket or roc vials I can put in the last few trauma bays?” You asked Jack, knowing he was coordinating the flow of supplies

“Not currently. I’m waiting on one more bin. There should be some more within the next 2 minutes” Jack replied, checking inventory lists

“Ok, I’ll be back then” you were halfway to exiting the bay when he called your name

“Are you okay? I know-“

“I’m fine. I don’t have any other choice. Right?” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence

“If you need anything, come find me. Okay?” he meets your eyes for a split second, softening his just enough to only be noticeable to you

——————————————————————

Patients came pouring in. At this point, you had lost track of how many patients you’d treated. It seemed like one patient would stabilize, just for another one to crash.

You hadn’t spent long in triage. Just enough time to grab your next patient. On your way out of the ambulance bay you tried not to glare at the reporter trying to shove her way inside.

“Ok, ma’am you can let go now” you say gently, trying to pull her son from her arms

“I want to stay with my son” she says

“He will be very close by. This one’s red, I’ll take it” you say before pushing off with the gurney

“How can I help?” Mohan meets you at the double doors

“I need hemostatic dressings, a chest tube, probably O neg, at least a bag. It’s a penetrating chest wound left side” you instruct, looking for a space to stop your patient and begin working

“I don’t have a pulse” Mohan calls

“God damn it” you position yourself on top of the gurney, beginning compressions

“Mohan, I need you to use an IO drill to go into the bone marrow and start the transfusion” you instruct, pausing to get a pulse check

Mohan follows your instructions. Handing off the blood bag to Princess to hold

“I’m gonna have to put in a chest tube and try auto-transfusing. He’s just losing too much”

Jack couldn’t help but let his eyes flick up from his own patient to look up at you. He wasn’t sure what injuries your patient had but regardless it didn’t make sense to try and auto-transfuse without a pulse. It didn’t make sense why you hadn’t called it yet. He passed his patient off to Walsh before crossing over to where you were working.

“Penetrating chest wound. Gone through 2 hemostatic dressings. Transfused 1 bag of O neg, just started auto-transfusing” you call, sensing his presence behind you

“How much are you looking to auto-transfuse?” He asks softly, glancing between you and your patient

“Not sure. 1200 maybe?” you pause again, looking for a pulse, before quickly resuming

“Then what?” He asks, trying to get you to think through the process and realize that you needed to call time of death

“I don’t know Dr. Abbot. Why don’t you tell me?” you huffed, not understanding why he was choosing now to watch you work

Jack looked a little bit closer at the patient. It was then that he realized that this injury mirrored your brothers’. The patient was a similar age. He took a deep breath before offering his advice:

“If he was my patient, I’d have called it. Look at that wound Y/N. In the field he would’ve been pronounced.”

“He had a pulse when he came in. If I can just get his volume back up” You rush out

“You’d need several bags of blood that we just don’t have. If he was our only patient, maybe. But even then chances would be slim” he sighs, a sinking feeling brewing in his chest

You did one more round and one more check for a pulse with the Doppler before pushing back and calling time of death. Jack watched as you definitely jumped down from the patient harder than necessary. Scribbling furiously on the card attached to your patient. He didn’t even have a chance to speak before you were rushing off and he was being pulled for a different patient.

——————————————————————

Eventually, the ambulances and vehicles began to slow. The red and pink zones had been cleared. It was mostly patients in the yellow zone waiting to be scheduled for surgery or moved upstairs. You had been moving on auto pilot since you had called time of death. But as people around you started to slow down, you realized that you needed to go notify the boy’s family.

They teach you in med school that grief can express itself in many different ways. Some people cry, some people scream, others stare at the wall in shock, and some get angry.

You knew all of that and thought you had prepared yourself well enough. This wasn’t the first patient you had lost. You had done this before and watched both Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot do them as well.

You knocked on the closed door of the family room. You took one big deep breath before entering the room.

“Thank you for your patience. My name is Dr. L/N and I worked on your son when he came in this evening”

“Yes, please, tell us about our son, Henry” his mother trembled, waiting anxiously for your reply

“Henry came in with very serious injuries. The bullet entered the left side of his chest, through his lung, before stopping several inches from his spine. He lost his pulse very quickly after arriving. The blood loss was too severe. I am so sorry for your loss” you finished, before bracing yourself

Immediately his father began throwing insults and casting blame. He had said you didn’t try hard enough and that you should’ve been able to save him, along with several expletives describing you. His mother just repeated no over and over again, covering her ears and rocking back and forth.

You restated how sorry you were for their loss before excusing yourself from their room. The hallway passed by in a blur, you had one place you were headed for. Only stopping long enough to empty your stomach into a trash can nearby.

——————————————————————

Jack had listened as Dr. Robby did his debrief. Subtly scanning the room, he realized you weren’t there. He knew it would look bad if he left in the middle of Michael’s debrief but he was itching to go find you. But he also knew you weren’t okay after calling that time of death. Things had moved so quickly afterwards that he hadn’t had a chance to find you and talk through it.

He waited until Michael was done, making sure to confirm that he was up for a beer in the park before setting off towards the elevators.

As he pushed open the door to the roof, it didn’t take long for his eyes to find your pacing figure. He could tell your eyes were red and puffy and you were limping. There was something bothering you about your prosthetic but you just kept walking back and forth.

You were re-running every second of that code in your head — trying and failing to convince yourself that. The pain in your leg was background noise to the chaos unfolding in your head. The only thing you could feel was the sting of the wind against your soaked cheeks and the suffocating weight on your chest.

Jack couldn’t stand to watch you walk back and forth for much longer. He slowly approached, trying to make some noise to avoid scaring you. But you were clearly somewhere else, not registering your surroundings. It scared Jack, seeing you so dissociated and so close to the edge of that roof. He was starting to understand Michael’s concern when the roles were reversed.

He had made one last attempt to get your attention before deciding that he needed to step in front of you. Hopefully it would disrupt the cycle you were stuck in and begin to ground you. He moved just slightly into your path, hands out to steady you. You bumped into his chest which caused you to look up at him. His relief didn’t last long when he realized it was like you were looking through him. He’d seen that thousand yard stare before , in comrades on the battlefield, in himself after a particularly bad nightmare. He lightly grabbed both sides of your face, just enough pressure to pull you back to the present.

Your breath caught slightly, like it got stuck in your throat. Your eyes seemed to clear, just slightly before your breathing picked up and you began mumbling. It took him several seconds to realize what you were saying

“It’s my fault. I couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry”

“Hey Y/N, I need you to focus on me. Big deep breaths” he urged, he could practically see your carotid pulse moving in your neck

You stopped speaking but continued to shake your head. Your knees buckled soon after, causing him to move one of his hands to your waist to steady you.

“Ok honey. Let’s sit down. Okay?” He tapped his fingers against the side of your waist before guiding the both of you into a seated position. He moved so you were sitting chest to chest, leaving enough space for your legs to stretch out behind him. He took both your hands, pressing one to his chest, directly over his heart and the other he began to squeeze gently.

“Come on. Match my breathing. I don’t want you passing out on me” he pushed, watching as you began to try and slow your breathing

“Good girl. That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing so good” he felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders as your pulse and breathing began to even out

The two of you sat like that for several more minutes. Trying to center yourselves.

“Jack?” your voice cracked, dragging your eyes from their spot on the floor to meet his

“Yes honey. I’m right here. Talk to me” his face had softened in ways you had never seen before — the creases by his eyes smoothed, his mouth didn’t seem permanently stuck in a scowl

“He looked just like him. And I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save either of them” your voice trailed off as you curled into yourself

“I know. But there was no saving that boy tonight and you have no blame in what happened to your brother, you know that” he murmured, reaching up to your cheek to catch a stray tear

“I just don’t understand why I keep being spared as the people around me die. Why did I become a doctor if I can’t save people?” you sniffled

“You worked on 27 different patients today. 26 of them are on their way to recovery because of you. You’ll always remember the ones you couldn’t save but I refuse to let you convince yourself that you’re a bad doctor. That’s basically an insult towards me. I trained you” the corners of his mouth twitched up, hoping that it would help lighten your mood

You yawned before realizing that you were still sitting in Jack’s lap. You scrambled off, opting to sit down next to him. He still hasn’t let go of your hand, as if he’s worried you’ll float away if he does. You hesitate for a moment, before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder

“Michael has two beers with our names on it if you want to go join the crew or I can just take you home” he looked down at you, offering you the options

“I need at least one beer before I go home or I won’t be able to sleep tonight” you groan, slowly pushing yourself back into a standing position

You offer Jack your hand again, helping him stand up

“Will you let me look at your leg while you drink?” He asks, gently tapping his prosthetic against yours

“How did you-“ you pause before deciding against finishing your question “If you want. I guess. I think it’s just inflamed. I didn’t expect to be here this long so I didn’t wear the right sleeve”

He hums in acknowledgment, pulling you towards the door, “I want to check it for cellulitis, just to be safe”

“You act like I’m not a doctor myself” you huff, pulling yourself a bit closer to him, shivering as the wind blew

“It’s actually because I know you’re a doctor that I know you’re not going to pay attention to it unless it gets bad. It’s okay to let people take care of you”

“That’s rich coming from the self care king himself. I’ll let you take care of me as soon as you let me take care of you” you retort, and for once Jack didn’t have some witty reply ready. He would let you take care of him. But neither of you were ready to admit that.

The staff that worked in the Pitt that night would be undeniably changed for the rest of their lives. What happened that night was horrific but it also made you so incredibly grateful for your found family.

————————————————————————

thank you for all the love on the last part!

[artbyblastweave]

How did Ultimate Marvel manage to be so good and so bad at the same time? Like on the one hand you have salient criticism of both the military industrial complex and the world of the mainline Marvel comics. But then on the other hand you have characters like Ant-Man and Luke Cage that getting butchered.

I've gradually come around to the stance that Millar's handling of Hank Pym in The Ultimates was "bad" largely in terms of the externalities it had for the character as a whole; If you like Pym, you're now generally up shit creek due to the extent to which the fallout from this story has marginalized the character in further adaptations, most predominantly the MCU. But in the context of the narrative of The Ultimates specifically, I think his characterization works incredibly well, and I think it's difficult to cleanly separate from what you're characterizing as the book's salient criticisms.

Part of the point of Hank's characterization is that everyone on the Ultimates- except Thor, we love Thor!- are deliberately "getting butchered," they're all horribly morally compromised in some way. These people are boots-on-the-ground in Iraq! Their first big legitimizing success was stopping one of their own guys going nuts! But Hank specifically gets the wall because he's morally horrible in an easily-recognizable, hard-to-spin way that there's a clear cultural script for condemning.... and nonetheless nobody bothered to do anything about the abuse going on behind closed doors for years, until their hands were forced by the bad PR of a high-profile incident. A thing that gets lost in the discourse churn is that the extent of Hank's abusive behavior is, within the progression of events, presented as an end-of-volume plot twist- for the first five issues and change, he and Jan are framed as an fairly legitimately happy and well-adjusted couple, and Hank himself is pretty well integrated into the team socially....until his ego is slightly bruised and the mask comes off and he vents his frustrations on the target of opportunity presented by his wife. The story is gesturing, with neon signs, at a Very Real Type of Guy, one that we've all probably been in proximity to at least once even if we weren't aware of it at the time. I also enjoyed the follow-up thesis of the subplot- that Steve's righteous golden-age chivalric retaliatory beatdown on Hank might be cathartic, but it's ultimately not going to solve any of the underlying dynamics that led to this situation in the first place. There are additional complicating bits of texture- Jan's closet-mutant situation and her status as the token minority in the initial Ultimates Lineup both feel like they're intersecting with this dynamic in a way that could be a whole separate post- but on the whole I've really come around on what Millar was trying to do with Pym, even if he was often doing it with his characteristic sledgehammer anti-tact.

Cage is different, but also interesting. The following would probably take a bit more involved research to lock down as a plausible read on what was going on editorially, but what I've come to suspect happened with Cage's deeply unflattering portrayal in Ultimates 2 is that Cage as a character was just barely beginning to exit a serious fallow period he'd been stuck in, and his portrayal in this represents the tail end of that. I've gotten the impression that during the 90s, Cage was viewed as a bit of an awkward figure who no one was entirely sure what to do with- viewed as a testament to the pitfalls of letting the predominantly white bullpen of the 1970s try to write dialogue for a black superhero. (The pastiche character of Buck Wild from Dwayne McDuffie's Icon is an example of this discourse making it into an actual comic book.) Cage wasn't nonexistent in the 90s, I've read some solo stuff of his from that period, but he's visibly not the fan favorite he'd grow to be in the 2000s.

As near as I can tell, his star seriously started to rise as part of the mainline Marvel Universe as a result of his inclusion in the supporting cast of Brian Michael Bendis's Alias from 2001 onwards, and he was cemented as a real setting regular by around 2005 with The Pulse and New Avengers; Ultimates 2, meanwhile, ran from 2004 to 2007 with some production delays. Given the timelines, it's plausible to me that Cage's one-note characterization as an unserious, mercenary second-stringer, participating on a team of the same, was conceived just before that stopped being the general read on the character. Equally possibly, it may have been conceived without any certainty that the stuff Bendis was doing with him was going to actually stick over the long haul; if New Avengers had flopped as a direction for the character, or if he and Jessica had ridden off into the sunset of editorial limbo after getting married, I think that Cage's portrayal in Ultimates 2 would be way less incongruous to a modern audience.

If they'd held off on using him a bit longer, he almost certainly have been part of the coalition of street-level heroes that show up part way through Ultimate Spider-Man; as it stands, his absence from that subplot is extremely conspicuous and easily the worst knock-on effect of his inclusion in Ultimates 2.

[shiho7567]

DCxDP idea

I have read a few touch-starved Danny prompts/ficlets in the past few days and this idea manifested itself into my brain

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

Danny has been captured by the GIW, team Phantom try to rescue him but they are teenagers so they can't really do much, the drs Fenton don't believe them when they say Danny is Phantom and the GIW captured him.

Months pass by (maybe years) as Danny is experimented on and due to that his dies more and his two halves mix, making it so that Danny can't transform anymore but has access to all his abilities, and his physical appearance changes too

Now the GIW still want to destroy the infinite realms/ due to their test and experiments on phantom they discovered a new power source and want to destroy the realms with that all "fight fire with fire" types, now they made some mistakes/miscalculations because after firing up their device, they created a large black whole and sucked in the whole planet killing everyone that wasn't a ghost or halfa / being of the infinite realms

Clockwork can't/won't change anything, since earth may be destroyed but timeline is still fine(?), but he sends Vlad and the Dannies (your choice if Dan is also part of it) to a different universe/dimension (the DCU)

Vlad and Ellie know they each survived and Vlad knows what really happened (he is kinda redeemed, doesn't try to kill Jack anymore, before implosion), he tells Ellie but they both don't know what happened to Danny, Ellie can only feel he is not ended

Now don't know where they each land on Earth from DCU, but Danny gets come across Jason (either with the Outlaws or solo, but I would prefer it with the Outlaws (Kori and Roy)), Maybe Ellie lands in Central City (Speedsters kinda adopt her), Vlad could land in Hub City and startup his company (billion dollar lifestyle)

Anyways, the idea is touch starved Danny finds a new fraid in the outlaws (but does not become a hero, he just helps them if he feels like they need it, maybe at the beginning he forces himself to be a hero (help them even more) so that they will not leave him

Danny was "caged" for months with no touch or outside warmth, he didn't know his fraid tried to help him, after hearing "no one will come and help you, they all hate/abhorr you" by some of the scientists (that derived joy from his despair, they were also the once that did believe ghosts to have sentience and that they are sapient) for months he believed it, especially with having no evidence that disproved it he internalised it

[danmeidiaries]

Squid Game Season 3: That Ending

Or, what I think they were going for and how I would have improved it.

After having ruminated on the ending for a while, and my writer’s brain stewing for a minute, I think I get what they were going for by that ending but I think the messaging could have been done better.

What I think they were going for:

Squid Game is an obvious metaphor for the way a capitalist system exploits people and puts them against one another. What I think the writers were going for, was that both systems will destroy everyone involved with no real winners.

A capitalist system will first harm women and minorities but it will inevitably come back to consume its most ardent supporters.

The Male-Alliance at the end were all detestable characters we didn’t know or care about which was by design. The worst kinds of people will rise to the top in this kind of system. However, these same people who chanted for “one more game” were all murdered because they were so confident they could win a game that was rigged against them from the beginning. There are no real winners.

Gihun and Junho’s storylines frustrate me a bit, but both were trying to save people who fundamentally didn’t want to be saved (the players and Inho respectively).

I think Gihun’s storyline wasn’t necessarily that fighting against a rigged system is hopeless; I think it was more about how trying to save everyone will destroy you. No-Eul fought against the system to save 246 and she succeeded. So fighting back and winning is possible.

Junho’s storyline I think was about how people with better resources and knowledge will always be able to puppet you despite how much freedom you think your choices have. Both Inho and Captain Park played the role that systems always have of undermining any revolutionary movements from within to keep the system in place.

However:

We kind of already got these messages and done better in the other two seasons.

Season 1 already told us that a system will destroy everybody involved leaving no real winners. To paraphrase ‘The Hunger Games’:

“There are no winners, only survivors.”

Gihun got a bittersweet ending and didn’t really win. Sang-Woo who embraced the murderous system and killed women and minorities to get further ahead was destroyed by the system in the end.

In season 2, we got the message about how capitalist systems will infiltrate revolutionary movements to destroy them from within with Inho as Player 001. And we knew the Captain Park reveal too.

So Season 3 does come off a bit as being bleak for bleaknesses sake.

The Main Message (which we were told in season 2) is that:

‘The Games won’t end until the world changes.’

And I think we still could have that message but I think with a few changes it could come off better.

What I would have Changed:

Now, to be clear, I don’t necessarily think a sad or bleak ending is bad. I think a wholly happy ending where the games were destroyed isn’t the right one for this series.

But, I would have had it so that there were a few survivors at the end of this Squid Game. Some characters we like, some unknowns, some characters we despise. Gihun can still die in the final game because he was trying to save people who refused to be saved.

[Although it’s a bleak message “trying to save everyone will destroy you” isn’t a bad or inaccurate message. Picking and choosing your battles irl is very important because you’ll exhaust yourself fighting on every front.]

Junho makes it to the island in the middle of the final game (with some changes on who the players are- definitely more left standing before the final game starts) forcing the island to end the game early. He can also have a confrontation with his brother because he deserved that at least even if it’s an inconclusive one.

The survivors flee the island which blows up and the coast guard finds remnants of what happened but not enough to prove anything. Plus, I’m 99% sure the higher ups in law enforcement are in on the games so we could even have a scene where that’s confirmed.

In the end, Gihun and Junho’s actions would make a difference but a very small one. They were able to save people in the end but not in the heroic way they hoped and Gihun was destroyed in the process.

The surviving characters go back to their lives (some grateful some ungrateful) but eventually get cards posted with the split final amount. The Games continue.

We can still have Inho in America at the end showing that the games prey on vulnerable people all over the world. (While I think actually making an American Squid Game is a bad idea I think it’s good to show the games are everywhere)

So we get the messages that;

Trying to save everyone will destroy you.

BUT fighting back does mean a small amount of success and isn’t a futile pursuit.

Sometimes people you don’t know or despise will survive as a result of your actions but getting out of the system is more important.

But the Games still won’t end until the world changes.

That’s a pretty bittersweet ending still in keeping with the series’ bleak tone. Although I think No-Eul’s storyline did do a good job of showing success in fighting back, the messaging was confused by how completely bleak Gihun’s storyline did ended.

Lemme know what you think.

[lume-ish]

I've got a funny little theory

spoilers for tadc ep 5 btw

Guys Guys

What if Jax caused Ribbit to abstract.

Idk if anyone else has had this theory (i dont really interact with the tadc fandom that much), if someone has and I'm just repeating stuff then thats my bad.

Ok so I don't have a lot of evidence for this, a lot of this is just sort of "this feels right", l so take all of this with a spoonful of salt. I'll do my best to explain my thinking.

So.

In Episode 5 we learn that Jax had a friend (probably Ribbit) and that friend has abstracted. We also see Ragatha slowly begin to lose her patience and later lose her temper.

Something that kind of stuck out to me about this episode that I haven't really been able to stop thinking about is the interaction between Ragatha and Jax, the "Not anymore" part.

Now this might just be me, and I'm pretty bad at social cues anyway so heres why the salt's needed. The way she said it felt almost accusatory. Idk if thats the right word to put it, and we also are missing a lot of context. But its also the first time we've seen Ragatha make a deliberately "mean" comment. Even though she tries to explain afterwards that it wasn't meant to be taken that way.

It's also the first time in the episode where we see her actually kind of mad. Not mad mad, but she does look mad. Like a smaller version of the kind of angry that causes her to lash out later on.

Now I can't tell if she's looking at Pomni or just looking away in that shot but it looks like she's looking at Pomni. I mean I doubt she wanted Jax to hear anyway but something about it feels a little like schoolyard gossip yknow? like"don't play with little timmy, little timmy will bite you". Like what she was trying to say was "Yea, he used to have a friend, before he went too far"

"The first steps of a budding friendship, right Ragatha?" would also hit different with this context.

But I also think, if Jax really did cause Ribbit to abstract then why do the others put up with him? Why does Caine? If one of the members has already purposefully caused one of the other contestants to abstract then why keep that risk around? I thinkg Zooble especially would be far more antagonist towards Jax.

And yeah, this could also be summed up to them just learning to deal with Jax/putting up with him cause they're stuck with him for forever. But Idk I feel like Caine cares enough about the members to not leave a threat like that there? I mean he locks the abstractions away why couldn't he do the same to Jax?

So staying with that train of thought I think that yeah, it was Jax's fault. But what if Jax didn't think Ribbit would actually abstract.

Like he says "You guys all take this place way too seriously".

Like wouldn't that kind of fit what we've seen of Jax's character so far? Like yeah the 2 were friends, but being freinds doesn't mean you can't hurt eachoher. What if Jax did or said something, crossed a line, or what if he didn't do something? I doubt he was the type of friend that was a shoulder to cry on. Especially if Ribbit was anything like Jax.

Idk I think Jax feeling guilty instead of just sad also fits more too. I also think it'd be interesting story wise.

Jax caused the one person he considered a friend to basically die and not knowing how/or wanting to deal with the guilt and grief that comes from that, he continues doing what he's good at. Being an asshole.

Maybe thats part of why the rest of the members still semi-put up with him, even after causing Ribbit to abstract.

This also changes things for Ragatha, like with that context the moments where Ragatha's trying to befriend Pomni feel so much more idk desperates not the right word but it's close enough.

Yes she's lonely, she wants a friend and to make connections with the rest of the members, and she also doesnt want to watch another one of Jax's friends abstract cause of his stupid ego.

It adds a little layer of complexity to that last scene where she watches them leave too.

idkidk maybe this is nonsense, watch it get debunked in the next episode.

This theory is held together with red string and loose notecards don't take it too seriously.

[gothicbatgirl]

Aight so @mirainwonderland dared me to post this.

AN - I don’t remember or know how to make posts pretty.

Commitment, what a strange word…

It had been 3 weeks. 3 weeks of sharp silence that was only broken by the echos of tears and yells.

Moments played in her mind, over and over again, especially the last one. The moment where he walked out, slamming the door, ending it before more words could be exchanged.

It didn’t take a special agent to figure out what he did next. Bursting his way into DSO Headquarters and demanding to be put on the next available job. Didn’t matter if it was below his skill level or pay grade, it was work or alcohol. This, in his mind anyway, was the lesser of two evils.

She didn’t even dig, didn’t question anyone, didn’t try to find out exactly where he was. However, amongst the barrage of complex feelings, she still hoped he was being safe. That he’d come home, even if it wasn’t to her.

She worked too, only being trusted with paperwork since her partner, in more ways than one, took himself away, leaving her to be branded as some kind of ‘risk’. She felt it was a pathetic excuse, and she made that very clear to Hunnigan.

“My sanity doesn’t depend on him! I’m still a damn good agent!”

She stopped counting the days after the first week, not wanting to spiral, wanting to reject everything within her that fell into that cliche… of falling apart without him.

It was currently dusk, she was out for a walk after reluctantly finishing that weeks’ paperwork. Black chunky biker style boots, mercilessly trampled over the early turned autumn leaves. It was peaceful, the small forest area being a haven from everything she was trying not to feel.

Such peace didn’t last long.

Normally, feeling a hand grasp her leather clad arm, would result in the perpetrator being slapped or kicked, but she knew it was him.

Her chest tightened and before she even met his intense gaze held in those sapphire eyes, she could feel the dam of stubbornness she’d put in place, begin to crack.

A slightly shaky breath escaped her cool toned lips.

They just looked at one another for at least 20 seconds. Knowing that once words began to flow between them, the love that lingered, had the potential to be broken down.

She didn’t flinch away and as much as she wanted to avoid everything, especially as a tear rudely escaped, dragging messy eyeliner with it, she couldn’t. That wouldn’t be right, for either of them.

“I love you.” She began before carefully, yet firmly removing her arm from his grip, the leather of her black jacket, squeaking softly from the friction.

“But marriage, is not for me.” Her tone was firmer as she echoed the words that had been said through tears, only 3 weeks ago. She was thankful that she was able to remain composed this time, yet her eyes still conveyed that same level of emotion, if not more.

As she saw the weight of her words slap his weary face, she could feel more tears fighting to escape. She wanted so very badly, to give him that fairytale he desperately wanted but that would be a lie, and he deserved so much more than that.

“I’ve never wanted it… never wanted that white picket fence fantasy.” She continued as he leaned himself against the nearest tree and slowly dragged his hand down his face.

Internally, he was yelling at himself. How could he be so foolish as to think she’d change her stance? The most stubborn person he’s ever met. A woman who often enjoyed the rejection of societal standards. The woman he loved. More than anything.

He wasn’t exactly one for traditionalism. However, marriage and maybe even a family was the one tradition he wanted for himself. So much had been taken from him, was he not allowed, just this one thing?

“It’s … it’s not just about that fantasy… it’s -“ He began to speak, as if in some final desperate attempt to not lose her.

But she cut him off before he could continue, they’d already had this discussion, there was no point in more tears and distress.

“Commitment?” Her tone was rhetorical with an undercurrent of hurt at the very suggestion that just because she didn’t want to get married, she wasn’t utterly committed and devoted to him.

“Or the whole public declaration?” She continued, her words were sharp but not with malice or venomous intent. She simply was doing her best to tell him that this was it, she could sense it, from the moment he presented her with that stunning black opal ring held within a silver band. This was the ultimate deal breaker for him. She couldn’t even blame him, she just wasn’t a girl that wanted a fairytale. As much as that fact ripped her apart, it meant that she couldn’t possibly be his person. Not truly.

“We gave up on a public life years ago.”

This time, the conversation just hurt so much more. More than any bullet wound or chronic pain he’d suffered. This time she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t raising her voice. It was like she’d given up on them. He didn’t want that. He cursed that glimmer of hope that settled in when he left for that mission. That whisper of, ‘time apart will convince her’.

He had to face reality now, his one dream shattered. He knew she wasn’t keen on having a family, that he maybe could’ve done without. As long as he had her. His one light in the darkness of his life.

It was all so raw, he’d spent the past year having little daydreams of a wedding, of a home, of leaving the agency together. He spent so long, scouring small business for a ring that suited her. All for nothing.

Was it selfish? That he assumed she’d want the same? Or did this further prove that she wasn’t meant to be his, no matter how his heart screamed.

No more waking to the autumnal scent of her favourite perfume. No more flirtatious moments during a mission. No more falling apart in the dark safety of her arms.

He had to walk away.

[strawberriesandroses52]

miscalibrated

4/?

im posting this at 2:15 am so sorry if it doesn't make sense lol

~~~

Jazz stared at Prowl.

He hadn’t expected the other pilot to freak out like that on him. Was it some weird cultural difference? Did Prowl’s people not let pilots see each other face to face? Jazz struggled to come up with a good explanation for literally an entire boulder being thrown at him. 

At least the Prowl seemed apologetic about it. 

Jazz gestured from Prowl’s mecha to himself, hoping the other pilot would get the memo. 

Prowl looked hesitant, then, considering. 

“C’mon man, after all that you still don’t trust me?” He said, taking a seat on Bebop’s knee. From the pilot pod above him, he could still hear the tiny sonar pings of the map being created. 

Prowl replied, though in his own language. The mecha stood, and wow, it was so much taller than Jazz had thought. At least, it did from his perch on Bebop’s knee. 

Jazz watched with interest. 

Prowl’s mecha began to shift, splitting and opening at joints and then in large sections, some parts twisting like a rubik's cube and other parts coming together like a jigsaw. It happened quick too, Jazz could barely comprehend what was happening.

In less than ten seconds, ‘Prowl’ was a car looking thing on the sand in front of him. Except with no wheels, and no doors. It looked how most everyone imagined the flying cars of the future to look like. Not like a car, but not not like a car, y’know? 

“Uh.” Jazz stared at the Not-Car. “Prowl?” 

“Jazz.” replied the Not-Car, using Prowl’s voice. 

What the helllllllll. Jazz thought. 

What kind of government would keep this technology a secret? It could be so useful in fights against the kaiju! Jazz’s mind races with all the possibilities, all the weapons that could be stored on a mecha like that. 

Jazz carefully slid off of Bebop’s knee, using her other joints as anchors as he made his way onto the sand. His feet sank a bit, and slid under the loose grain. It only took a few steps to get to the Not-Car-but-Not-Not-A-Car. 

He circled his way around it, trying to make sense of the sight in front of him. But it didn’t make sense, where was the pilot, where was Prowl?   

Jazz finally stood still for a moment, standing at the hood of the Not-Car. 

In the same way that Prowl’s mecha had unfolded, the Not-Car unfolded as well. In rapid succession, piece by piece, the body of Prowl’s mecha rebuilt itself until the mech was staring down at him with glowy blue eyes.  

“Prowl?” He asked again. 

“Prowl.” Prowl responded, giving him a thumbs up. 

Huh. 

So. 

Moving on. If Prowl-the-Pilot didn’t want to show himself, that was fine, he supposed. Sure, Jazz would like to know his ally better, see him face to face. But well, maybe Prowl couldn’t, for cultural reasons or maybe his mecha wasn’t built to be as easily escapable as Jazz’s. 

But still, a mech that could change shape? That was wicked. 

“Y’know, when I was little, I thought aliens would be cool.” Jazz said. “But holy shit man, I didn’t think they’d be this cool.” 

Prowl responded, and Jazz was really starting to get annoyed by this language barrier. 

“Can your mecha turn into anything else? Like a helicopter or a spaceship or a plane? Cause, lemme tell you, my guy, that would make your coolness factor go through the roof!” Jazz grinned at the alien. 

Before Jazz could continue his line of questions, a chime came from Bebop’s cockpit. The sonar map! He’d forgotten in light of this discovery. 

Jazz scrambled back up Bebop’s legs, grateful for all the little handholds. Once inside the pod, he buckled in, and began the series of levers, buttons, and switches that would turn on the systems and lock the cockpit. 

Prowl looked very interested, leaning forward to watch until the door of the pod closed. Briefly, Jazz wondered what Prowl’s mecha’s internals looked like. He’d like to witness it firsthand. Bebop’s lights flickered back on, and Jazz stood, beginning to re-calibrate the limbs. He stretched out his legs, rotating the joints, then stretched out his arms and finally, rotated his head and flicked his fins. Nothing was out of place. 

Clicking a few buttons on his chair, Jazz waited for the map to load before projecting it onto the sand. 

Prowl jumped a tiny bit, startled by the sudden appearance. He recovered quickly though, and studied the map with interest. 

“So,” Jazz began, “This is us.” he said, pointing to the two green dots, and then to himself and Prowl. “And that’s the crash.” He said, pointing to the red dot, and then to the wreckage behind them. 

“That understandable man?” He asked, giving a thumbs up. Prowl returned the gesture. “Great! That’s great!”

Jazz zoomed out on the map, giving it a second to load, before studying it. In terms of topography, the area they were in was largely flat because it was a valley. A very steep one too. There was a lake-like mass a couple miles away from the crash, fed by a river that led to the closest mountain. 

Prowl interrupted his train of thought, pointing to a dark blob on the other side of the map. “Good spot.” He said, then zoomed in on the area. 

Buildings? 

Jazz looked up, finding the same confused expression on Prowl’s face. He zoomed in as close as he could, trying to figure out more details about whatever this could be. An alien civilization? A Precursor base? Kaiju spawning grounds? 

Only one way to find out.

Prowl was glad that Jazz seemed to take things in stride. Or at least far better than he had. In fact, he seemed almost excited about Prowl’s alt-mode. Which was a change, because normally when someone saw his alt-mode they thought or said something along the lines of “Oh slag, it’s the cops!” 

He’d startled more than one bot with a questionable past before. 

Jazz consulted the map, occasionally muttering to himself while putting different colored dots on interesting areas of the map. Prowl looked over it as well, pointing out different interesting landmarks to Jazz. 

There were buildings to the east, a mass of liquid to the north, and mountains surrounding them from south to west. Otherwise, the landscape around them was mostly empty, according to the map. 

Jazz studied the map for a few moments longer, then made a gesture to the buildings. His hand formed the thumb-up gesture, most likely seeking approval. 

“It’s our best bet.” Prowl replied, giving Jazz his own thumb-up. 

Although…how would they cross that distance, given Jazz’s lack of alt-mode? It would take quite a while on foot to reach the mysterious buildings. For what seemed to be the hundredth time today, he lamented the language barrier. If only Wheeljack were here. The scientist likely would’ve been able to fashion a translator from the scrap…

Now there was an idea. Prowl wasn’t a scientist, but he did understand patterns and data. And what was language, if not a different form of pattern and data? Was his battle computer even capable of completing such a task? 

It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Prowl began setting up the algorithm, giving the battle computer the first lines of code, then, watching as the algorithm took off. Jazz and himself had only exchanged a handful of actual words, so he would need Jazz to talk more. A lot more. 

  “I’m very much hoping this works.” Prowl stated, “Although I have no way of communicating what I need you to do. Yet. My current hope is that you will respond in your language so I can gather more data.”

Jazz tilted his visored face to the side, audial fins flicking outward with interest. 

“Please respond and say something. Literally anything. I would really, really like for this to work out.”

Miraculously, Jazz does respond. 

The algorithm in his head nearly explodes with glee, happy to absorb every bit of data Jazz’s voice delivers. Prowl talks, more than he has in quite some time, trying to get more responses from Jazz. 

Anything that came to mind, Prowl said it. He even spent several breems just describing the rocks that surrounded them. Jazz dutifully replied nearly every time. 

“You see, the reason why the scandal was so big at the time was due to their political positions–”

“The what now?”

Prowl looked up from his rant, seeing Jazz’s fins standing straight up as the mech in front of him tensed. 

“Good! Great! My plan worked then.” Prowl said, immensely pleased with himself. “Hello Jazz, I’ve been wanting to speak with you for awhile.”

“Has this been a thing the entire time? Have you always been able to understand me?” Jazz accused, sounding suspicious. 

“No, it would be pointless to hide such a thing from you. Especially considering I’ve already ruled out the chances of you being a Quintesson.” Prowl replied, holding a hand up to offer peace. “This is an extremely recent development.” 

“A what now?” Jazz’s fins pinned themselves back before slowing coming into a more neutral position. 

“Fascinating.” He commented, “The Quintessons are a race of wandering conquerers, claiming new planets under their empire for resources. Recently, my planet has been caught in a conflict with them as they have tried to claim our planet and several of our colonies.”

“And you thought I was one of them?” Jazz said, offence coloring his tone. 

“Only briefly!” Prowl replied, his door wings flaring out with a huff. “And only because of the Quintesson technology on your wrist.”

Jazz stares down at his wrist for a moment, confusion seeping into his body language. “This?” He said, holding the wrist with the cuff on it up. “This is Precursor tech.”

Prowl frowned. “That is most definitely Quintesson technology, combined with parts I have never seen before.” 

“Couldn’t it be that Precursors and Quintessons are one in the same?” Jazz suggested, looking from the cuff to Prowl. “Cause, lemme tell you, my people have also been fighting some alien invaders. For the past couple generations, actually.” 

Prowl’s frown deepened. “That’s…not unlikely nor unsurprising, unfortunately.” 

“So.” Jazz stated. 

“So?” Prowl asked.

“Now what?” 

“I suppose we investigate the structures?” Prowl replied, “My people have not gotten into contact with me yet, but even then, we will most likely still be in range for a rescue.”

Jazz nodded slowly, considering. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be coming for me anytime soon…and to be honest, I’m very curious as to what’s going on there.”

“We are in agreement on that matter.” Prowl stands, brushing sand off his knee lightly. “Though, there is an issue of transport. You do not seem to possess an alt-mode, and without one the trek would be long.”

“Alt-mode? Your not-not-a-car form?”

“What’s a car?” 

“Ah, nevermind then.” 

Jazz brushed the comment off with a flippant gesture of his hand. “So we figure out a different way there. Easy as pie.”

“What’s this…pie you speak of?” 

“You guys don’t have pie?” Jazz gasped, “Man, that is so sad. A society without pie.”

“I can assure you, we get on just fine without it.” 

“Still man. That’s sad.” 

“If you insist.” Prowl sighed, then turned to the wreckage of the ship. “I need some time to think. We have limited supplies to use.”

“Okay.” 

Jazz nodded, then went off a few steps to give Prowl some space. The mecha’s walk was slightly bouncy, even as his feet sunk into the sand.

What could they do? Prowl looked at his meager emergency supplies. It was valuable in its own right: a field first aid kit, energon rations, and light-sticks for when it got dark. But Jazz didn’t have anything to be of use to be added to their stockpile. 

Prowl sighed, letting his door-wings droop. 

“Y’know this piece of metal looks almost like a surfboard.” Jazz comments idly, poking at a piece that had landed a few feet away from the wreckage. “I used to surf when I lived in Miami. It’s a nice place, but I got transferred to Seattle. The water’s too cold to surf there usually.”

“Surf?” Prowl asks.

“Right! Keep forgetting about the alien thing.” Jazz makes an odd, gravelly sound. “Anyway, it’s a sport. You stand on a board and ride the waves of the ocean. But that’s an oversimplification.”

Prowl had an idea. 

“This surf you mentioned.” He started, “Do you think it could be done on sand?” 

Jazz did not have eyes, but if he had, Prowl most certainly would have seen them sparkle. 

“Dunno, but I say let’s find out.” 

“Excellent.” 

The plan came together beautifully. 

The piece of scrap was large enough to fit Jazz, who would take some of the emergency cable from the first aid kit and tie it around his waist. The other end of the cable would be attached to Prowl’s alt-mode. 

Prowl looked back at Jazz through his mirrors, confirming that the mech was situated.

“Ready for the first trial?”

“I was born ready!” Jazz shouted in reply. 

Prowl revved his engine, starting off slow. Jazz had to adjust his stance, but stayed steady on the metal. 

“C’mon man, let’s get this show on the road!” Jazz let out a joyful noise.

“Very well. Brace yourself.” 

Prowl took off, full throttle. 

He couldn’t see Jazz any more, due to the cloud of dust and sand that kicked up behind him, but he could definitely still hear Jazz, hooping and hollering unintelligible words. The wind buffet their forms, the air flowing around Prowl’s alt-mode and catching Jazz’s. The alien mech held firm on his position. 

Prowl glanced back to the map that Jazz had made, and set course for the unidentified structures.

[vitaspera]

unhinged calix / viorel yapping commences..

[pawphin]

here is my buzzcut season tpn amv from a while ago :]] this is still my favorite thing ive ever made

explanation of scenes matching lyrics under the cut for fun! because its fun to analyze stuff

"the men, upon, the news, they try to tell us all, that we, will lose"

this was the first time i had ever made an amv and when i saw that line the first thought i had was isabella, so i just used the first clip i saw of her. i also used the ray right after and tried to edit it so it synced with the rhythm.

"but it's so easy, in, this blue..."

thought process: blue. norrayemma. yes.

"...where everything is good."

ray hands norman the thing hes been working on for the past six years, the tool that will help them escape and find a "good" place for themselves. he's giving norman another chance. to symbolize the start of this, i added the clip where norman activates the tool.

after this, theres a short instrumental break where it flashes between scenes of characters interacting, and i wanted it to represent the strength of their bonds and the desperation in normans attempt.

"and i'll never go home, again"

MY FAVORITE PART. again with the desperation, i edited two clips of norman running up the wall and then cut to an unsteady shot of the house, trying to represent how easily their plans could fall apart.

i then let it cut to my favorite shot in the anime which is norman standing at the top of the wall, with nothing but a giant cliff in front of him. and in that moment, norman realizes he will never go home again. that his fate truly is sealed, and all he can do is accept it and help emma and ray and the others as best he can.

"place the call, feel it start."

i cut between emma and ray while theyre at the tree hoping for norman to succeed. to them, this is only the beginning. the plan will succeed. but to norman this is the end.

"favorite friend. and nothing's wrong when nothing's true."

the first part, "favorite friend," doesnt really match the lyrics with the scene itself that well but i will say that i tried VERY heard to sync rays smirk and emmas blink with the beat of the song.

the second half, "and nothing's wrong when nothing's true," is another one i really like, where emma and ray's confidence is immediately torn to shreds at the sight of isabellas smirk. there is no being ignorant anymore. everything is wrong when everything is true, and norman giving them their last perceived group hug is what makes it official.

"i live in a hologram with you."

my favorite lyrics in any song ever. honestly this was also more just a visual thing, with ray expressing silent contentment, norman expressing shock and horror, and emma expressing confidence and her steel-will. i think the hand holding is norman putting his hand on emmas, which reinforces the "hologram" emma finds herself with when norman is gone.

i also had to add ray and norman laughing because i love them and its a cruel juxtaposition to what just happened 0.2 seconds earlier.

"we're all the things that we do, for fun"

this part is meant to be a flashback of sorts to when they were still blissfully unaware and happy just playing tag in the forest all day. i also didnt realize how norman-centric this amv was until now lol

"(and i'll breathe, and it goes.)"

i think in the original song this is meant to be calming in a way. like after taking a deep breath you forget your worries for a little bit. in the amv i segwayed from happy fun moments to the horror of discovering connies body because i imagined the horror of trying to take a normal breath after that. its like how you always blink unconsciously but the moment you start thinking about it, it becomes a task.

"play, along. make believe it's hyper-real."

the first part is easy, emma playing along with isabella so she doesn't suspect her.

i love the second line, "make believe it's hyper-real," because that line basically encompasses tpn as a whole. before they knew the truth, they lived in their own little world with artificial rules and limitations. but they were happy. and now they know too much to be blissfully ignorant once more, no matter how much they'd like to return to their old lives. i wanted to show this by contrasting their first plans to escape with norman getting shipped out.

(it also reminds me of emma saying "e-magic-nation" instead of "imagination" in a letter to norman, so i love it even more)

i included the ringing of ray's bell after this to kind of snap the viewer out of it before the final lyrics played. i tried to sync it as best as i could but movie maker is so mean

"but i live in a hologram with you."

the last part of this amv shows emma turning the tables on ray who is fully ready to martyr himself. when ray is holding the lit match, there is no reflection in emmas eyes. but when she's holding it theyre fully ablaze, and it cuts to a determined emma and a shocked ray reacting to norman's "hologram."

norman will always be there, will always be there to guide them, even if only in mind and spirit. the lyrics suggest something darker, but i wanted to end it on a positive note where emma and ray are able to overcome their setbacks and push forward with norman to guide them.

[light-wrath-paradise]

When I start having a panic attack about visiting my family I know it's time to go to sleep immediately no ifs no buts

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

main masterlist

[zevrra]

𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

synop: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

wc: 1.8k

includes: straight smut, p w/o p, fem!reader, jayce x reader x viktor, slight vöyeurism, oral (m receiving), slight dirty talk, threesome, bottom!viktor

extra: part 2 is here! reblogs are appreciated <3

“don’t worry,” you whisper, fingers twirling along a red tie before smoothing down the front of viktor’s vest. “i sent jayce out on an errand run and he won’t be back for a little bit. just enjoy this v.” you add with a hum.

viktor looks up through his pretty lashes at you. he leans back against his desk, practically sits on top of it to keep weight off of his leg, as you two stand inside of the lab. he had been working far too hard recently and the only way you could keep him distracted long enough not to think about anything involving his work was to pleasure him. it was the same way trying to get him to sleep every once and awhile, when he would sneak into your room. you had never suggested doing it in the lab though…and the thought thrilled you just as much as it thrilled him; even if he thought it was a terrible idea.

“w-we shouldn’t. not here in the lab and what if—” viktor mumbles but his words end in a soft gasp as your fingers begin to untuck his shirt from his pants.

“viktor,” you chirp as you fall to your knees in front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants and pulling them down ever so slightly. “you need to take a break. be a good boy and just relax.”

your fingers are just grabbing the hem of his underwear when the door to the lab is being thrown open and jayce’s large figure enters the room. “hey, i was looking for this thing you asked for but i—“ jayce had begun to speak, his eyes pointed down as he entered the room, before he finally looked up and caught the two of his friends in the act.

you freeze in your spot, eyes widening as you stare at jayce from the floor. a scarlet red blush is spreading across your face, you can feel the heat on your cheeks in an instant and you’re sure you match not only jayce’s shocked face but viktor’s as well; and you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him. you probably stay like that for a little longer than you should’ve until jayce clears his throat and you and viktor alike scramble from each other.

“we!” you start as you stand up straight and as quick as you possibly can. “wait it’s not what it looks like! we were uh just uhm—“ you ramble before looking at viktor to help dig both of you out of this hole. but he’s busied himself with trying to zip his pants back up, making it far more obvious if it hadn’t been already. you sigh, turning your face off to the side to stare at a small spot on the floor, unable to look jayce in the eye.

“do…you do this often?” jayce’s voice cuts through the built up silence in the room like a knife.

you shake your head quickly but viktor speaks up for you instead. “never in the lab.” he mutters.

“it’s unprofessional, we get it, let’s just drop it and forget this—“ you begin to add but the sound of the door closing with a lock interrupts your rambling. when you finally bring your gaze to jayce, his eyes are soft but clear in their intentions. and it was his turn to no longer be able to look at the two of you.

“can i…watch?” he whispers under his breath.

and with three little words, everything changes between all three of you.

now, jayce leans against the lab’s desk as viktor leans back against his chest. jay’s strong hands fully support viktor as you’ve returned to your spot in front of him. you had never in your life thought jayce might have been interested in whatever you and viktor had going on. maybe you just assumed he already had a lover and never brought it up again. but now his hazel eyes stare down at you, just as viktor’s amber eyes also watch you, both with a hunger to their eye. it almost made you nervous, being watched, but your fingers once again hook around viktor’s underwear and pull down, ignoring the jitters that hum under your skin.

your hand wraps around vik’s semi hard cock and you give it a soft tug, rubbing right up the shaft until the tip. there was a new feeling in the air around all 3 of you. breaths being held, eyes watching ever so closely, the slight tremble to your hand. it had been different when it was just the two of you enjoying midnight meetings but now with jayce there too…it felt far more scandalous and naughty.

“tell me what it feels like.” jayce whispers, purposely placing his chin into the crook of viktor’s neck, as his hands slowly run up along vik’s chest.

your own hand continues to move against viktor’s shaft, stroking him slowly up and down, moving to press your lips against his head.

“mmph, her fingers are a little cold,” viktor replies with a low groan. his chest rising and falling in quicker succession as he begins to get turned on. “but it feels good.” he adds. and his honesty makes you smile a little.

you move your hand faster in return to his praise. trailing your fingers along his head, pressing your thumb into the slit of his cöck, where he’s growing sensitive and causing him to gasp softly. you take the moment to lean forward and capture the head of his cock inside of your mouth. drinking in the sight of viktor’s eyes fluttering, his fingers tightening onto whatever he can grasp, as your mouth wraps around him.

“keep going viktor.” jayce instructs as you watch him place hot, heavy kisses against vik’s throat. one of his hands groping his thin chest and waist.

“w-warm! it’s so warm and wet,” vik breaks. he’s fully hard now as you suck on his head, making him whimper at the feeling. “feels—ah—really good.” he adds with a groan as his eyes return to watching you.

you can feel his thighs tighten as you swallow more of his cöck, continuing to use your hand to stroke up to your lips. you watch every expression that crosses viktor’s face along with jayce’s fingers that slowly begin to take off his vest. strips him of his vest and then works on unbuttoning his brown shirt underneath.

jayce keeps laying hot kisses along the back of his neck and on his throat, slumped over and threatening to swallow all of viktor’s thin frame.

the sight makes you somewhat giddy and excited to see what jayce does. but it never distracts you from making viktor feel good as well. sucking a little harder, spit bubbling up at the sides of your lips as you sink further down onto his lengthy shaft. your eyes are almost falling close to help you focus as you swallow more and more of him, but jayce’s voice catches your attention once again.

“she looks so pretty like that, doesn’t she, vik? makin’ you feel so good.” he whispers against just as pretty, pale skin. his words cause vik to stutter, hips lifting up and forcing you to swallow the rest of him. and you do so with ease.

you truly wouldn’t have guessed jayce was so good at dirty talk but you welcomed any surprises at this point. viktor simply whines in response, head hanging low, gaze still on you as you continue your routine of sucking him off.

jayce stands to his full height then, hanging over viktor just enough so he could turn his face and capture his lips. viktor’s eyes widen in response but he does nothing to stop jayce; no, instead he’s melting into the kiss. you watch with eager curiosity as their tongues clash together, jayce easily winning in the battle of dominance, as one big hand of his moves up to gently caress viktor’s throat.

fuck, was it hot watching them. you can feel your pussy throbbing at the sight just as you can feel yourself growing wet against your panties. you squeeze your thighs together, slipping a hand down below to press your fingers into your core. the best you can through the pants you wear for the moment but the pressure is enough to make you groan. you move your lips faster along viktor’s shaft, sucking harsher and sloppier to bring him closer to his end.

the change of pace and jayce’s tongue surely has viktor coming undone quicker than usual. for he breaks the kiss with a harsh whine. “i’m close!” vik gasps, tossing his head back onto jayce’s shoulder.

jayce presses a quick kiss against his jaw before his hazel eyes return to watch you suck viktor off. his eyes are hazy and full of lust as he fixes his intense stare on what you do; which makes you shiver with newfound pleasure under his sight. his strong gaze makes you press your fingers into your pussy once again, seeking any form of satisfaction you could get for the moment.

“look viktor,” jayce instructs as his hand smooths over viktor’s lower abdomen. “she’s touching herself.”

viktor’s breath hitches in his throat but he moves his own lust filled gaze down to stare at you. with both of them returning to stare at you, you palm yourself harder through your pants. moving your hips in sync to every bob of your head, needy and desperate as things evolve, all the while you moan around vik’s cock.

it’s all too much for viktor as his hips lift and he thrusts wildly into your mouth. “going to—!” he cries softly, body tightening, throwing his full weight back against jayce.

but jayce is quicker. one hand grabs your hair and pulls you off of vik’s twitching cock before he takes his hand and wraps it around where your mouth had just left. “stick out your tongue. i wanna see the mess he makes all over your face.” he grunts, pumping his fist quickly along vik’s entire shaft. his hand is much bigger than yours and it wraps entirely around viktor with ease, and it makes vik lose all control he might’ve pretended to have.

but you do as your told and swiftly stick your tongue out to catch whatever you can. all it takes is viktor staring at your tongue and jayce’s hand jerking him off to finish his orgasm. viktor forces himself to watch as he comes, fingers grasping and gripping onto anything he can that’s near him as he tumbles over the edge with a sharp cry.

your name, along with jayce’s name, leaves viktor’s lips in a pathetic whimper as he comes. can feel the sticky substance coat your tongue, cheek, and chin with each rope jayce rubs out of him. all the while viktor and jayce watch as he makes a mess across your lips and face, never once looking anywhere else.

not until vik is completely spent, limp against jayce who holds him up effortlessly. the only noise now in the room is the shared panting between all three of you. you lick your lips, trying to clean yourself up just a little, before it was your turn to break the silence.

“let’s keep going.”