#may be some typing errors

[gladoswantscake]

Burnout - Goro Majima x Reader

Summary: A bad day at work leads to coming home exhausted and irritated, but you end his day on a good note.

Warnings: Some spoilers from Kiwami 2

A/N: From now on I'll be only sharing my works on here and on Ao3 because the Yakuza tags on Wattpad are dead 😔

Available on AO3

He couldn't wait when it was time for him to leave. The loud sounds of metal clinking and saws going off was one thing that gave him a headache, but his some of his subordinates were the biggest factor. Whatever needed to be done today can wait till tomorrow. All he wanted to do now is to get home to unwind.

Majima mopes to the front door of his home. His body slouches up against the door frame as he fishes for his house key in his pocket. He slowly inserts the key and opens the inside of his home. As he steps foot inside, he was welcomed by the intoxicating smell of food being made in the kitchen.

He smiled. He could finally relax.

He was grateful to have you. Not for what you do for him, but how much you look past of what he does for a living. Others would flock to safety due to his crazy demeanor, but you never did. You found him to be intriguing.

Majima removes his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen to find you throwing together dinner. Various ingredients scattered amongst the counter.

He approaches you from behind quietly. His hands find their way around your waist followed by a kiss on your cheek causing you to slightly squirm from the hairs of his goatee tickling you. His weary body pressed against your back watching you cutting up the last bit of vegetables.

"Whatcha' making?"

"It's katsudon. I've been wanting to try it lately. I think you'll like it."

"Anythin' you cook will always taste great." His kisses your shoulder.

You throw the chopped onions into the pan and turn to face him with his hands remaining around your waist. The crevices underneath his eye could tell that it was another stressful day for him.

Your hands reach for his eyepatch carefully removing it from around his head. The eyepatch was the only thing that could hide his flaw from anyone. In fact, you were the only person to see him without it. He was always used to wearing it when being out in public or with his close ones. It was part of his identity. Sometimes without it, it made him self-conscious, but your touch says otherwise.

He watches your gaze soften as you briefly trace your thumb underneath his missing eye. The corners of his mouth twitches upward as you lean into him, pressing your lips against his closed eyelid. Your sweet gesture causes him to melt.

"Another bad day, huh?" Your hand runs through his dark hair.

He replies with a groan. The therapeutic feeling of the nails of your fingertips gently raking his scalp causes him to become slightly drowsy. He rests his chin on your shoulder and closes his eye.

"I'm sorry to hear that it's been stressful."

"It's no longer stressful now that I'm home with my Y/N-chan." He mumbles with a smile.

"You're sweet." You lift his head up from your shoulder and peck him on the lips.

"Go get cleaned up. I'll have dinner ready when you get out."

~~~

Majima's eyes were glued to the TV as he laid in between your legs. The two of you settled in on the sofa watching a movie. His head rested on your chest listening to the soft rhythmic beating of your heart and your fingertips stroking the textured tattoo of his bare back. He soon became lost in his thoughts.

The thought of having to get up the next day for work to leave you in the bed alone once again. It made him depressed.

Majima's breathing became slightly irregular as his emotions changed.

The grip around your waist tightens catches your attention.

"Is something bothering you?"

A nerve struck him. He hardly cried. He hated crying, but your confrontation was stirring sad emotions within him.

"Just work is all, doll. Nothin' for ya to worry about." His voice slightly cracks.

He lied. He always hated to tell you about what goes on at his job knowing what he does is controversial.

"I know it's been more than work. Something's eating you."

Your words of concern allowed more tears to escape from him.

In truth, the stressful workload between the construction and the conflict within the Tojo clan was starting to get to him. To top it all off, he was working with men who hardly had a brain.

God forbid he has to tell you about relying on his critical instincts to diffuse a bomb the other day.

He stayed silent. You were catching on quick and there was no other lie to back him up. He didn't think he could keep his composure any longer when he felt you sitting up.

You help him sit up only to have him lowering his head to hide the stream of tears.

"Goro... You can look at me."

He feels your fingertips brushing underneath his bearded chin to lift his head up.

His cheek was wet, and his eye was red. His face tightens as he tries to hold back his tears to speak.

"I know you hate to talk about what goes on with your job, but you shouldn't keep your issues bottled up."

"I know, baby." He wipes his face. "I just don't want to sound like a burden to you."

He felt your fingers moving the strands of his slightly scruffy hair away from his face then cupping his cheek.

"You're no burden to me."

He knew your words meant sincerity, but the stress was starting to take a toll on him physically and mentally. He was tired and frustrated from the spiraling events. The last thing he would do was to nag your ear off.

"I can't remember the last time you've had a day off."

"Me neither." He sighs. "It's just the construction that's been a lot. A lot more responsibility. Maybe after it's all done then work won't be as stressful as it has been."

"I hope work eases up for you." Then an idea came to you.

"How about you call out in the morning? I understand that you feel like you can't take your eye off of your men, but I know Nishida-san can be trusted to take care of everything. Besides, you need it."

He gave thought your idea. A day off was what he needed. But one day away from work felt like a whole week when working with half-witted men.

"If anything bad happens while you were out, I'm sure you'll whip your men back into tip-top shape."

The joke made Majima titter. "I suppose I can do that."

Another hand reaches for his other cheek bringing his lips to yours. The pace of his heart picked up as he was brought into a feeling of bliss. The feeling of your warm hands traveling away from his cheek down to his bare chest sent tingly sensations throughout his body.

"We'll do something fun tomorrow. Just me and you."

"I'd like that." He smiles.

[arolesbianism]

Been working on some first run Chou sprites for funsies, here’s a handful of the ones I’ve done so far

[ulteri0rm0tives]

....and if I said I wanted Johnny and Kerry in the messiest divorce arc since Paul McCartney and John Lennon.. what then...

[dapperrokyuu]

While I do wish we can see more about the Anakt quartet's relationships, it was incredibly funny for me to be, like, "*Round 2 just got released* Oh, Till doesnt even KNOW or has ever talked to Mizi, hes just projecting and obsessed and heteronormative-" to "*experienced all the official art and Round 3 and 6* Oh, they were, like, actually friends to an extent and the meaning Mizi has to Till is very sweet even if its born of and is a reflection of just how desolate his lived experience just Is Constantly, ultimately a guy with a cute crush made buckwild due to- *gestures vaguely* -and hes heteronormative."

[shewhooncegripped]

shoots you with corroded hex nail beam. go crazy

Kromer has been in quite a miserable mood for a decent amount of time. It almost seems like every time Kromer starts to feel happy… Every time Kromer dares to forget her past for even a moment… There is suddenly pain around the corner to greet her. Pain that reminds Kromer of her sins, pain that corrects the error on Kromer's judgment.

Kromer is and will always be a monster.

She cannot run from her past, she is forever unchanging. People tell her she has changed, yet Kromer only ever makes the same mistakes over and over. The Sinner feels as if she is doomed to a cycle of unhappiness, one where she starts to get better only to topple back down to where she started. A cycle where people only point out where she was and not where she is.

The woman's eyes appear shrouded in shadow as she hugs the softest Sinclair plush she owns to her face. It's a little crying frog version of Sinclair! The stomach of the frog appears to be filled with water beads with the intention to be squeezed, yet Kromer only ever burrows her face in the plush to pull herself down to earth. The cool sensation of the liquid inside helps Kromer stay present.

But how present can Kromer be when she feels a soft tug on her sanity? It almost feels as if someone is peeking into her mind, silently witnessing her thoughts. Her desires. It feels as if a cloud has settled into her head, separating her consciousness from her body. Thoughts stay distant even as Kromer tries to bring herself back down to earth, emotions stay stuffed under the surface.

There's a small hum from the woman as she shifts again, letting go of the Sinclair plush to instead roll onto her stomach. Kromer has the feeling that this… presence in her mind is one sent to take over her body. Yet, Kromer can't bring herself to truly care. The past few weeks her body has been possessed plenty of times with less warning. One moment she's in control of herself, the next she is throwing herself into the engine of the bus. Kromer doesn't necessarily remember these moments, but she's heard the horror stories from her coworkers. Kromer has seen the fear in their eyes.

"..."

Kromer misses Sinclair. Both Sinclairs. The idea of Sinclair. Sinclair, who doesn't judge her when she speaks her mind. Sinclair, who doesn't attack her when she's learning. Something deep within Kromer yearns to trap the mirror Sinclair in her room, to keep the other close in case she needs comfort on a hard day. But trapping a bird in a cage would be refusing it's freedom… At least the Mirror Sinclair will talk to her. They aren't trying to hurt her. This world's Sinclair would likely be as possessive of Kromer as she was of him before he became the One Who Shall Grip. This world's Sinclair likely does not want Kromer dead– instead he likely wishes to… reducate Kromer. To have his mentor and friend back.

And a part of Kromer does indeed realize that doing such a thing would make her much less lonely. But… Would Sinclair be worth it to give up everything she has been fighting for?

The aching loneliness continues.

That feeling persists in Kromer's mind. A tingle travels up Kromer's neck as she realizes it almost feels as if she is being watched. Yet, the presence in Kromer's mind seems almost comforting, there is no judgment in that gaze. Whatever is in her skull understands Kromer. It almost feels as if letting it take over will give Kromer's mind a chance to rest without nightmares.

…That would be nice.

And thus, Kromer lets go. She mentally gives up as she closes her eyes.

The possession comes quickly and suddenly, distantly Kromer realizes that this is actually a corrosion. Kromer's mind is under enough stress that she has fallen victim to an abnormality. But, Kromer can't bring herself to be upset about this one. This appears to be different than when Kromer reaches -45 sanity in a fight and proceeds to rampage over the battlefield hurting anyone in her path. This feels like more of an… escape.

There's a distant noise of glass breaking as the Sinner is covered in what appears to be a black smoke. It clings to her, covering her body in a reflective surface similar to a mirror. Cracks form along the surface.

And then it shatters.

{cw: typical Hex Nail corrosion stuff. It doesn't go into detail enough to be considered gore but the implications and words are present enough to warrant a warning and read more button}

A doll, a monster– something inhuman remains. This corrosion is humanoid. Silver button eyes tied by red thread, a sharp smile. Two bear ears rest upon the woman's head with pigtails. Her puffy purple dress is painted with gore as multiple nails impale her abdomen and tear her open. Two large bear paw boots rest upon Kromer's feet and her arms are covered in oversized sleeves to give the appearance of a friendly teddy bear. Along with Kromer's appearance changing, a comically large hammer covered in spikes spawns against the bed frame. It appears to be awaiting its owners use.

The Bear jumps out of bed, trailing red fluff onto the floor with her movements. A grin breaks on the woman's face as she realizes how fitting the room she currently resides in fits into her likes. Nails stabbed into the walls like a box stabbed with knives. A wooden chair stands ominously in the middle of the room– ah!! That'll be the throne for her little game!

The Childish Monster grabs the plushies that mean the most to her, tying some of the dolls up in red yarn to puppet them for her little game of play-pretend. Yet, the only one she picks up very carefully between her two bear paws is a lonely looking doll that smells heavily like flowers. The Plush Woman seems to understand the importance of being gentle with these dolls, she realizes how fragile they are. She very carefully sets the doll upon the throne and even gives it a pat on the head.

“Fuhuhu~! We have a king! Now the knights need to fight the monster to save their king.” The voice is unnatural, higher pitched than Kromer would normally use. There is something very uncanny to the sound. Yet, the Monster plops on the floor and brings all of the dolls in her game close. She uses her strings to control the array of voodoo dolls and Sinclair plushies. The voice becomes more uncanny as the Bear makes up voices for the characters of her play.

The longer the corroded woman sits, more red fluff falls from her abdomen. Eventually there is enough for the woman to lay on without worrying about disturbing the nails lodged inside of her. A comfy bed. A large smile rests on the woman's face.

The woman seems genuinely happy for once, but is it truly okay to allow her to stay in this state?

[arsenic-clownip]

🌸ur like our coolest mewtual and i rlly rlly should talk to u moreeee✨ - @orchid-of-kamino (main @mxescargot)

YESSSS OH MY GGOD WE SHOULDDDD !! <3

[gothhabiba]

🍉🇵🇸 eSims for Gaza masterpost 🇵🇸🍉

Which eSims are currently being called for?

Connecting Humanity is calling for:

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG

Simly (“Palestine” plan)

Gaza Online is calling for:

Holafly (“Israel” and “Egypt” plans): code HOLACNG

Nomad (“regional Middle East” plan): code NOMADCNG (can now be used multiple times from the same email)

Airalo (“Middle East and North Africa” plan)

Sparks (“Israel” plan)

Numero (“Egypt” plan)

For Connecting Humanity: if you sent an eSim more than two weeks ago and it is still valid and not yet activated, reply to the email in which you originally sent the eSim. To determine whether the eSim is still valid, scan the QR code with a smartphone; tap the yellow button that reads “Cellular plan”; when a screen comes up reading “Activate eSIM,” click the button that says “Continue.” If a message comes up reading “eSIM Cannot Be Added: This code is no longer valid. Contact your carrier for more information,” the eSim is activated, expired, or had an error in installation, and should not be sent. It is very important not to re-send invalid eSims, since people may walk several kilometers to access wifi to connect their eSims only to find out that they cannot be activated.

If a screen appears reading “Activate eSIM: An eSIM is ready to be activated” with a button asking you to “Continue,” do not click “Continue” to activate the eSim on your phone; exit out of the screen and reply to the email containing that QR code.

Be sure you're looking at the original post, as this will be continually updated. Any new instructions about replying to emails for specific types of unactivated plans will also appear here.

Check the notes of blackpearlblasts's eSim post, as well as fairuzfan's 'esim' tag, for referral and discount codes.

How do I purchase an eSim?

If you cannot download an app or manage an eSim yourself, send funds to Crips for eSims for Gaza (Visa; Mastercard; Paypal; AmEx; Canadian e-transfer), or to me (venmo @gothhabiba; paypal.me/Najia; cash app $NajiaK, with note “esims” or similar; check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased.)

You can purchase an eSim yourself using a mobile phone app, or on a desktop computer (with the exception of Simly, which does not have a desktop site). See this screenreader-accessible guide to purchasing an eSim through each of the five services that the Connecting Humanity team is calling for (Simly, Nomad, Mogo, Holafly, and Airalo).

Send a screenshot of the plan's QR code to gazaesims@gmail.com. Be sure to include the app used, the word "esim," the type of plan (when an app has more than one, aka "regional Middle East" versus "Palestine"), and the amount of data or time on the plan, in the subject line or body of your email.

Message me if you have any questions or if you need help purchasing an eSim through one of these apps.

If you’re going to be purchasing many eSims at once, see Jane Shi’s list of tips.

Which app should I use?

Try to buy an eSim from one of the apps that the team is currently calling for (see above).

If the team is calling for multiple apps:

Nomad is best in terms of data price, app navigability, and ability to top up when they are near expiry; but eSims must be stayed on top of, as you cannot top them up once the data has completely run out. Go into the app settings and make sure your "data usage" notifcations are turned on.

Simly Middle East plans cannot be topped up; Simly Palestine ones can. Unlike with Nomad, data can be topped up once it has completely run out.

Holafly has the most expensive data, and top-ups don't seem to work.

Mogo has the worst user interface in my opinion. It is difficult or impossible to see plan activation and usage.

How much data should I purchase?

Mirna el-Helbawi has been told that large families may all rely on the same plan for data (by setting up a hotspot). Some recipients of eSim plans may also be using them to upload video.

For those reasons I would recommend getting the largest plan you can afford for plans which cannot be topped up: namely, Simly "Middle East" plans, and Holafly plans (they say you can top them up, but I haven't heard of anyone who has gotten it to work yet).

For all other plans, get a relatively small amount of data (1-3 GB, a 3-day plan, etc.), and top up the plan with more data once it is activated. Go into the app’s settings and make sure low-data notifications are on, because a 1-GB eSIM can expire very quickly.

Is there anything else I need to do?

Check back regularly to see if the plan has been activated. Once it's been activated, check once a day to see if data is still being used, and how close the eSim is to running out of data or to expiring; make sure your notifications are on.

If the eSim hasn't been activated after three weeks or so, reply to the original email that you sent to Gaza eSims containing the QR code for that plan.

If you purchased the eSim through an app which has a policy of starting the countdown to auto-expiry a certain amount of time after the purchase of the eSim, rather than only upon activation (Nomad does this), then also reply to your original e-mail once you're within a few days of this date. If you're within 12 hours of that date, contact customer service and ask for a credit (not a refund) and use it to purchase and send another eSim.

How can I tell if my plan has been activated? How do I top up a plan?

The Connecting Humanity team recommends keeping your eSims topped up once they have been activated.

See this guide on how to tell if your plan has been activated, how to top up plans, and (for Nomad) how to tell when the auto-expiry will start. Keep topping up the eSim for as long as the data usage keeps ticking up. This keeps a person or family connected for longer, without the Connecting Humanity team having to go through another process of installing a new eSim.

If the data usage hasn't changed in a week or so, allow the plan to expire and purchase another one.

What if I can't afford a larger plan, or don't have time or money to keep topping up an eSim?

I have set up a pool of funds out of which to buy and top up eSims, which you can contribute to by sending funds to my venmo (@gothhabiba), PayPal (paypal.me/Najia), or cash app ($NajiaK) (with note “esims” or similar). Check the notes of this post for updates on what I've purchased, which plans are active, and how much data they've used.

Crips for eSims for Gaza also has a donation pool to purchase eSims and top them up.

Gaza Online (run by alumni of Gaza Sky Geeks) accepts monetary donations to purchase eSims as needed.

What if my eSim has not been activated, even after I replied to my email?

Make sure that the QR code you sent was a clear screenshot, and not a photo of a screen; and that you didn’t install the eSim on your own phone by scanning the QR code or clicking “install automatically."

Possible reasons for an eSim not having been activated include: it was given to a journalist as a back-up in case the plan they had activated expired or ran out of data; there was an error during installation or activation and the eSim could no longer be used; the eSim was installed, but not activated, and then Israeli bombings destroyed the phone, or forced someone to leave it behind.

An eSim that was sent but couldn’t be used is still part of an important effort and learning curve. Errors in installation, for example, are happening less often than they were in the beginning of the project.

Why should I purchase an eSim? Is there any proof that they work?

Israel is imposing near-constant communications blackouts on Gaza. The majority of the news that you are seeing come from Gaza is coming from people who are connected via eSim.

eSims also connect people to news. People are able to videochat with their family for the first time in months, to learn that their family members are still alive, to see their newborn children for the first time, and more, thanks to eSims.

Some of this sharing of news saves lives, as people have been able to flee or avoid areas under bombardment, or learn that they are on evacuation lists.

Why are different plans called for at different times?

Different eSims work in different areas of the Gaza Strip (and Egypt, where many refugees currently are). The team tries to keep a stockpile of each type of sim on hand.

Is there anything else I can do to help?

There is an urgent need for more eSims. Print out these posters and place them on bulletin boards, in local businesses, on telephone poles, or wherever people are likely to see them. Print out these foldable brochures to inform people about the initiative and distribute them at protests, cafes and restaurants, &c. Also feel free to make your own brochures using the wording from this post.

The Connecting Humanity team is very busy connecting people to eSims and don't often have time to answer questions. Check a few of Mirna El Helbawi's most recent tweets and see if anyone has commented with any questions that you can answer with the information in this post.

[starkwlkr]

cinephile | oscar piastri

an: i love free will cause wydm i made an oscar piastri letterboxd fic🤭 and yea i used laura harrier as a faceclaim b4 but she’s gorgeous and i love her so yeaaaa (update: there’s a small typing error in one of the tweets, pls ignore it pretty pls ily)

also my letterboxd is deadpunks if you wanna follow 😭

INSTAGRAM

liked by letterboxd, tchalamet and others

yourusername haven’t found mr.305 yet but i did ask some guys who drive really fast what their four favorites are! i love my job!

oscarpiastri thanks for the moulin rouge commentary 👍🏻

yourusername is moulin rouge officially a favorite?

oscarpiastri if i say yes, can we watch another movie together?

yourusername omw with my dvds

tracklimitslol i am witnessing the birth of a cinephile

polepositionsz apologizes oscar!! i wasn’t familiar with your game

landonorris i wasn’t either

view all comments

INSTAGRAM

liked by a24, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername went to an award show after party, took a hike with a pretty aussie and now he’s taking me to his work? i fear i may have girlbossed a little too much

oscarpiastri i think it’s only fair, you showed me movies and now i show you cars

yourusername sweet deal ig

landonorris is this the movie lady?

yourusername the movie lady has a name!

letterboxd oscarpiastri we’re going to need our movie lady back!!

view all comments

[rawts4]

[mod] #Plants Care: version 1.0

I've long wanted the game to be able to spray plants and flowers :) And so, after experimenting a bit, I was able to implement such a pleasant, in my opinion, feature into the game. Now each of you, my simmers, will be able to do this in the game and, hopefully, experience the same satisfaction from it as I do!

PS: I also added a simple buff that will make your Sim a little happy :D ( see below! )

Important notes:

The spray model does not replace the standard one and is fully compatible with other mods

The duration of the buff is 1 game hour, and the buff itself adds +1 to a good mood

The duration of the animation playback is approximately 3 to 5 seconds in real time

I've translated it into all languages for you! :)

Known errors:

It is possible that not all types of plants will be sprayed

Not all plants are suitable for the current animation, for example, some plants may be higher or lower

In the future, I plan to add plant watering and, possibly, a new skill! ( another animation is possible, but that's not for sure :D )

I will be glad to receive your comments and subscriptions!

download (free) on patreon

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow grey.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[camarei]

older bf kento who is just the sweetest. he’d spoil you to your heart’s content, buy you whatever you want. he’d insist that you let him spoil you even if you refuse to spend his money...

older bf kento who is such a gentleman. he’d open doors for you, pull the chair for you to sit on it when you two are going out. just anything you could think of.

older bf kento who feels like he doesn’t deserve you sometimes... you’re just too pretty and young, you should be with someone who’s at your age! he gets filled with thoughts like ‘what if you actually chose someone who isn’t double your age?’

older bf kento who is very vocal when he opens up about his concerns. when you reassure him, he gets that giddy feeling he hasn’t felt in awhile.

older bf kento who is very mature. misunderstandings, problems & arguments never last long. he’s the type to never let you sleep with a heavy heart. as soon as he feels that there’s gonna be a conflict—he’s quick to put it out ‘cause he hates seeing you upset.

older bf kento who is often happy when he forgets the lunch that you packed him. you’re always there to give it to him! he feels a little bad for making you go all the way to his work, but he can’t help but to show a smile when you show up while holding a small bag that contains his lunch.

older bf kento who is overworked! he doesn’t like the feeling of being away from you because of work. when he comes home, you’re always there to welcome him, pull him into a warm embrace, place a quick peck on his lips and mumble ‘i love you’s’ in his ear.

older bf kento who’d always try to keep himself clean for you. whenever you play with his hair, you’d see grey strands. but you never mention it, he’s just gonna fuss about how it doesn’t look nice and try to pluck it.

older bf kento who thought that he was never gonna be in a relationship again. but after a few years, he somehow got led to you.

older bf kento who’d give you flowers at least thrice a week while he’s at work. the bouquets would include little notes with neat handwriting. now he just waits for your message—a picture of you and the bouquet.

older bf kento who schedules a lot of dates, different restaurants too... he’d call you and say something like,

“don’t cook tonight, here’s some money—get yourself all dolled up f’me... i’ll pick you up at 7. i love you, sweetheart.”

older bf kento who doesn’t like it when you stay up all night waiting for him during the times he’d work overtime... giving you a playful scolding but eventually getting you to bed.

older bf kento who just listens to your recent gossips, he isn’t really fond of what you called ‘tea’ but he tries to keep up, especially when you’re using those slangs that he can’t understand... boy, he has to lock in.

older bf kento who is just the most caring person out there. some may see him as intimidating or scary due to his lack of facial expressions... but he really isn’t! he’s just not used to that... he really tries to work on it!

just older bf kento who loves his little girlfriend very much.

swu’s note: i’m actually so sleepy, if there r any grammatical errors, do not mind them... it’s either my sleepy state or just my english in general... also, sorry if i don’t serve anym... taking a break from writing drains my brain juice

[powderpuff-divines]

pick a pile: when love finds you again, how do you wish to be held by it?

what kind of love does your heart yearn for? pick a pile to find out! this is a general reading so not everything may apply to you. only take what resonates and leave the rest. please excuse any grammatical errors or typos. happy reading!!

pile 1 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

(TW: mentions of bullying, please exercise your own discretion.) seven of wands, queen of swords rev, nine of swords

oh pile one, when love finds you, you'll hiss at its hand the way a stray cat does when someone finally shows it some kindness after experiencing years of living alone on the streets.

people have been cruel to you by way of words and there are still cuts on your soul from that. i'm hearing death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift in my head, more specifically the line 'papercut stings from my paper thin plans.' maybe you made plans with loved ones (friends, family, lovers), went out of your way to do nice things for them and truly treasured them, but then had the gut-wrenching realization that it was not mutual. they could have mocked you for being so sensitive and taking things too seriously. ("oh that? don't tell me you actually thought i was being serious?"). some of you may have been victims of bullying in the past.

so when true, unconditional and kind love finds you, you will not be able to stomach it.

there's a deep level of mistrust and anxiety towards words of sweetness coming from anyone. but when love finds you again, you want do still want its words to be honeyed but true; not a coating of sugar covering rancid intentions.

you could still be beating yourself up for being swayed by other people's words and charms very easily in the past. please stop that. you cannot bully yourself into being better and being stronger. you live and you learn. you cannot be cruel to yourself for falling prey people who were actively trying to mislead you/ cause harm.

when love finds you again, you want its words, true and honest, to wrap you up and hold you in its warmth. to not need to worry about whether it's a ploy to get your trust only to break it again. you want a love so kind that it erases the pain from your past.

pile 2 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

five of pentacles, seven of wands, knight of pentacles

someone dear to you could have betrayed your trust when it comes to money/finances/assets. for some of you, you do not even wish to acknowledge it or talk about it. 'it happened, i lived. it was miserable but i lived, and i'll never let that happen to me again.' is the type of energy i get from this pile. you could think that there's no point crying over spilled milk.

but that betrayal cut deep. so when love finds you again, you want someone who'll stand right by your side, especially if you go through a tough period like that again (some of you could have even been homeless for a while.)

the people who chose this pile do not necessarily want a flashy kind of love, with dates at the trendiest of places or elaborate gifts/ trips every month. you really want is someone to rely on, a shoulder to lean and cry on and someone who doesn't stab you in the back.

the type of scenario i'm seeing is someone having a breakdown in their dining room trying to balance their checkbook, but your person comes without you even calling for them, squeezes your shoulder, sits down next to you and starts helping you with it.

i feel like there's an emphasis on helping you with it rather than just doing it for you. you could be a very independent person, or maybe you just don't trust someone else to handle things for you again. you want a partner in the literal sense of the word.

(some of you could be thinking 'even if it's someone who doesn't contribute to helping me get back to a good place, i just want someone who won't make it worse. otherwise, i might as well just be alone, right?' and i just want to tell you that please hope for more. you deserve to be loved and taken care of. someone not harming you is just the barest of bare minimum. expect more from your loved ones)

what you really what is someone who'll tell you to hold your head high, put their reassuring hand to your back and guide you. they'll do the scut work with you, they'll make it easier for you to go through the murky waters and not complain about it.

i have a feeling that if someone like that were to actually appear, you would just stare at them for a few moments-- shocked and emotional, but grateful that you get to experience a love like this.

when love finds you again, you wish for it to be steady and unwavering, to hold your hand tight and not let go even once even as it knows that difficult times are ahead. to silently hold an umbrella over your head as it begins raining. to be as comforting as hot cocoa on a cold day. to stay. you want love to be loyal, kind and to stay.

pile 3 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

(TW: mentions of sexual content. please exercise your own discretion.) ten of cups, page of swords, ten of swords

you want to find the love you've been dreaming of, to get your happy ending, to find the one. you're sick of meeting people who aren't your forever person.

you, out of all three piles, dream of domestic bliss the most. a happy home, a happy family with pets and/or kids. but with the way things have been going, you've become mentally resistant to this dream after so many failed tries and ,if you're aware of it, you hate that. because you never wants to be the type of person who doesn't like love or runs away from love, not after you've spent so long yearning for it.

this could be the pile that daydreams about a soft and romantic love.

the type of love where you're in the kitchen, baking something, and your partner comes behind you, wraps their arms around your waist and kisses your neck as they mutter something that makes your heart skip a beat.

you want someone who won't shut down your ideas, and wants to do fun (and tbh chaotic) stuff with you. you want to go on adventures with this person. (like the way the old couple from Up did when they were young.)

and also really good sex where by the end of it, you're exhausted and completely sated; after which, you lie in your lover's embrace, mindlessly drawing patterns on their skin (they could also do the same for you) with some pillowtalk.

you could also really want to travel to other places with this person and make a lot of memories.

when love finds you again, you wish for it to be in the form of a person in whom you see home. a home for your love, for your joy and smiles. a home that will accept all of it, nurture it and multiply it tenfold. whether it be now, a year later or even decades down the line, you wish to be held in its loving embrace. one could even say you wish to be held by it throughout the ages. you want a love that will transmute the bad days into something easier; a love that will stay forever soft and young as you and your lover grow old and develop wrinkles on your faces (from laughing and having so much joy in your lives.)

i recently decided to join tumblr and was surprised when i discovered that there was a pac community here. it's been super fun going through all the readings here so i thought maybe it would be fun to dip my own toe into it. i had a ton of fun editing the images and this post!! tumblr's so cool. i hope the reading resonated at least a little bit and it was fun to read!

[adelliet]

Logan x f!reader

MEMORABLE RIDE

Summary: You went to the club with your friends and when it was time to go, you ordered a limo, but the girls didn't join so you took the ride alone, but this wasn't your only ride of the evening.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, fingering, nicknames (good girl, princess,…), unprotected sex (p i v)

Masterlist

A/n: Hello pookies! This is quite a short one-shot unlike the previous ones, but still there may be grammatical errors, for which I apologize. Also sorry if some parts don't make sense, English is not my native language! Thanks, enjoy <3

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"So are you coming or not?" you yell at your friends, trying to shout over the loud music. They were all sitting in a booth with their one-night stands, all dazed and drunk. They didn't hear you, despite their enthusiasm to have a good fuck today. Unlike them, you had no luck in finding a fuck-buddy. It wasn't that you weren't interested or didn't want to, but no one at the party was your type.

Your friends are into boys of the same age, while you prefer more mature men, older men who knows what they want. "Hey!" you yelled at them once more, at this point your throat started hurting. One of your friends finally heard you and gave you a cursory look. "No, we're not going, can't you see we're busy?" Julia said in her typical bitch tone, that you were already used to.

"But I already ordered a ride home" you furrow your eyebrows as you show her your phone screen. "So? Go home, we'll take care of ourselves" Kaylie said this time, making you realize they all heard you but just ignore you. They were just mocking you.

"Whatever" you breathed out and shook your head, deciding to leave. You love those girls, you really do, but when alcohol, drugs, and sex get into them, they're changed. Usually they apologize the next day and everything is back to normal, but sometimes you wonder if the ridicule is worth it.

When you finally squeezed through the crowd of people and nearly went blind from the beams of colored lasers, you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The club was incredibly hot and the air was thick in there, it was practically impossible to breathe, so the moment you stepped out, it was like a godsend.

You stayed on a spot for a while, just enjoying the clean air and the glowing lamps around you, until you noticed a black limousine on the other side of the sidewalk. That was for you. You quickly checked your makeup in your pocket-mirror, to see if you didn't look like a total mess and headed towards the limo.

On your way there, an old guy with a long gray beard and a black suit get out of the car. Even from a distance you could tell, that he's been gone through a lot in his life. He had a cute glasses on, his eyes squeezed, trying to read something in his phone. "Hi!" you said with a sweet tone and small smile.

You caught his attention immediately, making him groan annoyingly as he looked at you, but the moment he saw you, he needed to double check you. He carelessly scan you from the bottom up, his glasses sliding off his nose gently while he looked through his eye lids.

Before he could say anything you overtook him. "313, my code" you flashed him with your phone screen. He hastily blinked, his eyes watering from the brightness of your phone. He rudely took your phone and checked with a closer look. You awkwardly stood next to him until he hummed and handed you back your phone.

"Where are the others?" his voice was deep and grainy, showing his age. Hearing him for the first time made goosebumps all over your body and increased your heartbeat. "They...uh they're not coming, it's just me" you look behind your shoulder and glance at the club, remembering your friends words, before turning back.

He roll his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Is that okay?" you asked him cautiously, automatically going to sit in the back of the limo, as he got into the driver's seat. "As long as you pay" you deduced, that hearing him talk is very rare thing and that was why it made it so special. Whenever he talks, his voice sends a sharp prick between your legs.

"Y-yeah I have the money..." you rummaged through your purse to check your wallet and you sigh with relief when you saw it there. The old man entered your location on the GPS and started the engine. The ride was quiet except for the songs on the radio, but you didn't mind, you watched things passing by from window. You could turn off your brain and relax.

"May I ask why you didn't take a taxi?" your rest didn't last long when you heard the wolf's voice again. It took you a while to recover and form a sentence in your head. "I guess I didn't think of that" you didn't want to tell the whole lore about your friends and how you naively thought you would drive all home together and enjoy the ride back, so you got a little carried away and spend a lot of money on a limo. All that so you are now sitting alone there and not didn't even enjoy the evening with some good fuck.

He was looking at you through the rear view mirror, sometimes you caught him and he swiftly looked back on the road. He could sense the dissapointment in your voice, but he didn't want to be intrusive, even though he was really interested in the story behind you.

"Aren't you cold?" another sharp hit into your core, when you heard his crisp voice. "Uhh no, it's fine, thanks" the thanks was almost inaudible as you looked down at your knees shyly. You honestly weren't surprised he asked, you were wearing a short top with a short black skirt. You hoped you don't look like some kind of slut, you wanted to impress him in a good way and if he told his friends about you, you didn't want him to call you a whore.

He nodded, quickly checking you in the mirror again before firmly focusing his attention on the road. That was his last sentence before the silence came again, broken by music from the radio and the sounds of cars outside. But it was soothing, the led lights were dark purple and before long your eye lids started being heavy and without realizing it, you fell asleep.

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Your body twitched and you instantly woke up, after you heard a sudden slam of the door. you rub your eyes and yawn tiringly, as you look from the window. You squinted your eyes when the lights of the gas station hit you, but after a while you got used to it, you try to orient yourself. When you wanted to check on the driver, he was gone. You tried to stay calm and not panic right away, as is your nature. You're only at the gas station, Logan must have gone to get gas or buy something, he doesn't want to bury you alive in the woods. Your paranoidness is really pathetic sometimes.

After a while, you heard a melody of door opening and immediately looked after the sound. Your eyes sparkle and your corners automatically lifted up when you saw him walking towards the limousine. Without realizing it, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach when HE came into your sight. Feeling that you haven't experienced in a long time.

You watched his every step towards you, his serious expression still on his face with no sign of emotion. You sat back in the seat when Logan grabbed the handle and put his upper body into the car. "Hey...I was thinking you might want to drink something" he handed you one of his cups and gave you the cutest eyes you've ever seen. You though you were in a fever dream.

"Oh! T-thank you" you took the cup and giggle nervously, before your fingers touched by the process and you swear a spark jumped between you. The eye contact was intense, strong, almost romantic and none of you wanted to break it.

You hold your breath as you try to read his eyes, what he was thinking about. He flicked from your eyes to your lips quickly and then decided to go back to driver's seat. "Wait!" you stopped him quickly.

He bent down to see your face again and waited for your words. You didn't even know what you wanted. You had to think fast. "Can you...can you sit here with me for a while? I don't want to delay you, I just...I don't want to go home" you chuckle awkwardly as a side-smile appeared on your face.

Logan was quiet at first, again, not a single hint of any emotion in his face, but he got in and sat next to you, as you wished. He keeps the distance between you respectful, even though you wouldn't mind if he scoops a bit closer. "Why's that?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his head to you, looking deep into your eyes. You sighed and looked down while playing with your fingers.

"Well...it's a long story" you look back up at him, smiling softly. "I got time" his interest in you really warmed your heart and your inner self screamed with joy. Even though you are not a very extroverted person, you felt comfortable with him so he didn't have to tell you twice to talk.

"Well, today was supposed to be a hen party and originally, more girls were supposed to be here with me, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out...just a pinch of alcohol and they act like animals" you scoff and shake your head, being really pissed. You remember what they told you, how they treated you and didn't even give a hint of gratitude for the fact that you tried to get them a ride back.

"Oh...well-" he wanted to comfort you somehow, but you didn't finish and decided to confide properly. You surprised yourself. "You know, I really like them, but sometimes they act like total whores who only think about sex and dicks, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they just don't have any self-respect for themselves or others, and then I catch their rude behavior…”

You were so fired up about letting it all out that you didn't even realize the effect it must have on this man. When there was an awkward silence after your speech, you checked on him. He looked a little shocked but immediately cleared his throat and composed himself, so that he could finally react somehow, but you didn't let him, again.

"I have a pretty boring life, I admit, maybe I'm old-fashioned but I'm not really the type to sleep with the first guy I meet in a club..., anyway the answer to why I don't want to go home is simple, I still want to enjoy the freedom before going back to my awkward and boring office-life" this was the final speech and you felt amazing after that. Those words slipped out of your mouth so easily and you haven't confided in someone like this for a long time.

You sip from your cup loudly as the outrageous silence became really disconcerting. Your conscience began to eat away at you quickly, and since you didn't accept any answer, your nervousness grew rapidly. You started tapping your foot and gradually the shaking spread to your hands, which were holding the cup. You started to regret confiding so much and wanted to say something and save yourself a little, but a man's voice caressed your eardrums before you could speak.

"You don't look like someone who has a boring life" from everything you said you were surprised that he reacted to THAT but on the other hand, you were probably grateful for that, if he only reacted to the sex theme, it would probably put you both in an awkward situation. "Oh believe me, I really have…I'm not special" you smiled at him, your dimples shine as you try to read through his eyes again.

He frowned, that was the first facial movement you saw from him, you are finally getting somewhere. "C'mon your boyfriend sure thinks you're amazing" you chuckle softly and shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend" "Really?" he answered, maybe too quickly, a big surprise in his voice. You nodded and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're telling me that a beautiful lady like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" you giggle again as a reaction to his compliment and shake your head. You felt like a little girl getting compliments from adults, it was exciting. "Damn…" he leaned back in disbelief, looking really surprised. "That's a shame, boys must flock to you" his compliments started being overwhelming and every time he said something nice to you, there was that sharp kick right into your clitoris that makes your core pulsating. At first you were a little embarrassed to be turned on by such an old man's praise, but later you didn't care and just enjoyed the moment.

"Not really...I'm quite quiet" "I noticed" he gave you a smile, which almost made you faint. That cruel nasty man was gone and replaced by a nice gentleman with beautiful eyes. "I'm Logan by the way" he offered you a hand to shake which you took almost immediately and your smile grew bigger. Logan. His name kept repeating itself in your head. It was quite an unusual but unique name that sounded very nice and you would get used to screaming it easily, to be honest. "Y/n" you shake your hands and let go, feeling a bit sad when your skins stopped touching.

"Y/n..." he repeated your name to himself quietly, looking at you up and down, not caring if you notice or not. His confidence was really visible and that only added to his attractiveness. Although you just said that your friends sometimes act like whores who only think about sex and dicks, now you've turned into one of them. A million scenarios started forming in your head and your pulsating started being unbearable every second Logan look at you.

You had no idea what kind of magic it was that he was so extremely attracted to you, in fact you had no idea, except that you wanted to ride him till you can't walk anymore in this fancy limousine. As if he read your thoughts and subtly started bending closer to you. You hold your breath once again, as the distance between your lips started getting smaller, until it barely existed.

You were inches away from touching each other lips, no one had the guts to destroy the barrier until Logan gave up and finally kissed you. As if he was afraid of what your reaction would be, his lips barely touching yours, he was very careful. He didn't want to scare you, but you were the oposite. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and goosebumps surrounded your body when you felt his lips, but you wanted more.

That's why you headlessly grabbed Logan's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan wasn't so careful anymore as your tongues battled for dominance and your hands encircled each other's bodies. At the beginning there were slow, peaceful kisses that quickly turned into a hungry and merciless ones.

You didn't last long on your place and slowly moved away from your seat to sit on Logan. He devilishly smirk into the kisses as he feel your ass on his lap, where his boner was already growing. He was exploring your body, every inch of you, he wanted to remember it. He traveled from your long hair to your ass, which he squeezed from time to time. You panties were soaking wet and your natural instincts took control. You started moving your hips back and forth, desperate for even a little friction.

Your movements made Logan groan and squeeze your ass even harder, making you moan. Your lips were still firmly glued to each other, even though you wanted to see Logan's face as you rode him through your clothes. His body is tensed as he tries to keep his voice quiet, even that he doesn't do it very well. He was as desperate as you, from the moment he saw you you were on his mind and he couldn't let you go. There's a reason your friends didn't go with you and you're actually grateful to them. Really fucking grateful.

Logan was getting tired of touching you only through your clothes, so he lifted your skirt up a bit and touched your folds through your soaked panties. He chuckled at the feeling and let go of your lips, looking into your lustful eyes. "You're so fucking wet" he growled and started creating pressure between your legs that increased with every movement he made. You could finally throw your head back and enjoy his fingers, which for an old man were damn nimble. He definitely has a lot of experience.

Your pelvis automatically moved along with his hand as your palms rested on his chest. You throw your head back and started unbuttoning his pants, making him giggle. "Someone is impatient" you smiled, intensely focused on his pants until he made an illegal move. Your eyes shut and head drop, when he put your panties aside and finally touched on your bare wet folds. He was enjoying the view of you, how your face was squeezed and your quiet whimpers started echoing throughout the limousine, you were perfect.

He couldn't resist and had to thrust both fingers into you at the same time, forcing you to throw your head back and drop your jaw wide open. You felt so full when he was expanding your walls but that was just the beginning. His fingers started curling into you, smooth steady motions that were throwing you closer to your orgasm. “Logan” you were wailing his name over and over again as you started ride on his fingers. Your nails sank into his thighs but he barely felt it.

One of his hands was on your waist trying to keep you still at least a little bit, while the other was fingering you with no mercy. He noticed how you started clenching around him and even your moans started being cut off. You didn't need to tell him twice that you are about to cum right on his fingers, he knew it very well. You felt the weird feeling to go pee and your stomach started clenching, just a few more movements and you would cum, but he stopped.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you immediately look at him confused, sighing at the lost. He smiles, sucking his fingers and looking in your eyes while he taste you. He rolled his eyes and growls loudly. "Fuck you taste amazing" this sentence makes you wet again and your core pulsates even more than before. Logan let go of your weist and started clumsily taking off his pants. You quickly get up so you won't not to get in his way, and the moment his pants along with his boxers touched his ankles, he didn't hesitate for a second. He grabbed your hips harshly and eagerly forced you to sit on him.

You adored his impetuous behavior and how much he was craving for you, for your body, for the fuck. Even though he looked two hundred years old, he had an outrageous amount of energy in him and his body was bursting with adrenaline. You, on the other hand, weren't much different. Your horniness knew no bounds and the passion you felt was irreplaceable.

Your only focus was on Logan, you didn't care if anyone caught or heard you, you wanted him inside you no matter what. You look down at his penis, veiny, unshaven and huge. You gasped a little as the thought that this would all be inside you besieged you, but your excitement was much greater than your fear. "Surprised baby?" the craspy voice rang in your ears and you immediately look in front of you, his myschivious grin makes your core pulsates even more and the lust for orgasm was incalculable.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you weren't going to hold on to the anticipation any longer. You slowly started lowering yourself, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt his tip touching you. "Good girl, nice and slow..." Logan was looking down at the part where you two are going to connect, his strong arms still holding your hips and subtly forcing you to take him.

His words soothed and excited you at the same time, which is why his intrusion wasn't as painful. You groan loudly as his tip was fully inside you, already feeling full but that still wasn't the end. You change your hand placement to his chest, squeezing his boobs without realizing it, but Logan loved every moment of it. He decided to help you and slowly lifted up his hips, pushing further into you. Before long he was all inside you, you couldn't believe how full you were and how he was stretching your walls much more than before with his fingers. Your juice was already dropping on his cock, that was hard as a stone inside you.

He waited a while for you to get used to his length and during that he grabbed your neck and kissed you aggressively. When your hips started moving instinctively, he deduced that you were ready. With his hands still holding your hips, he was forcing you to move back and forth, heating up and creating pressure, like some type of foreplay. Your lips were still glued to his until you couldn't take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath. Your head dropped as your whining grew louder and louder.

“Yeah that's it princess…” he growled as he watched your face, still holding you tightly. His pelvis started moving along with yours, his pulse increased and his breathing slowed down. “Such a good girl” the endless compliments only helped to bring you closer to your climax and he was well aware of that. You look up through your eye lids, seeing him intensely focused with furrowed eyebrows send a chill down your spine.

You gradually began to pick up your pace and strength, each movement bringing you both closer and your moans getting louder. The car was starting to smell like sex and the atmosphere around you was getting thick. Logan wanted more, so he makes your hips go up and then thrust down. You scream his name as he did it again, but this was exactly what you both needed. He helped you a bit but after a while you could jump on him by yourself, the incredibly lust to reach your orgasm made you forget about exhaustion.

Logan dropped his jaw and shut his eyes as your ass was clapping against his thighs. His dick was twitching inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. That spongy sensitive spot calling the cervix sends incredible waves of pleasure whenever he hits it. You both were sighing in a rhythm as the juicy sounds started getting louder. “That's it baby…that's it” with a struggle he praised you again and banged you, desperately trying to finally reach his orgasm.

You knew you won't last long anymore. The overwhelming tense feeling started shutting down all your senses. Goosebombs jumped on every part of your body as you squeezed his breasts hard, making him chuckle. "C'mon baby, give it to me" this was the last straw when he gave you this green flag to cum. You put all your strength and energy into your hips and into finally achieving what you longed for. You slowly throw your head back again and just whimper quietly, as your hips took on the incredible speed of light.

When the feeling of going to pee and release finally washed over you, your entire body tensed and you shiver. You were paralyzed and your hips stopped moving when you finally reached your golden orgasm. But Logan didn't stop and when he felt how hard you clenched around him and saw your cumming face, he lost his control in hips and cum just few seconds after you. He emptied his balls into you, not missing a single drop and grunted very VERY loudly as he nearly crushed your hips. When you both calmed down a bit, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

"Fuck you were...incredible" you breathed out and Logan chuckled, nodding as a acceptence of your compliment. "You too sweatheart" you looked into his eyes with a surprised expression. He gave you those nicknames during sex, that's why you were shocked when he told you after it too. Your corners lifted up and your heart melts, making it hard for Logan to resist and he needed to kiss you one more time. But this time it was a long, romantic kiss that you hadn't received in decades.

When he pulled away, leaving just a tiny space between your noses, your teasing mood started setting in. "You lasted quite long for an old guy" he furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, as he sensed your teasing behavior. "Oh really?" he tsks before he asked ironically and you just hummed. "Say that again and you'll regret it" he warned you but you knew it was just a part of the teasing-play you had going on. "Okay, sorry, grandpa" you devilishly smile as you said the last word.

"That's it" Logan grabbed you and threw you gently on the floor of the limousine, making you smile. He started kissing you aggressively with his dick still deeply inside you.

"You won't be able to walk after this"

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[starlitkitten]

♡ Where they like to kiss you ♡

Karasuno boys

(!!It's only my opinion on them, not canon stuff. If your opinion doesn't match, please don't come at me. Also, sorry for any grammar or other error, english is not my first language!!)

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Sawamura Daichi - he's the type to give shoulder kisses or temple kisses whenever he stands behind you and wraps you up in his arms. In private he's a big fan of neck kisses, especially on that soft skin under the jawline. And he also likes it when you kiss his chin or jaw.

Sugawara Koushi - Suga loves to give forehead and hand kisses. He's all that softie, romantic typa boy, who loves to spoil and impress you with his romantic gestures. But his favorite is when you hold him and give him kisses on the top of his head.

Azumane Asahi - he's super duper shy about it in public. Usually you're the one kissing him, asking him to lean down so you can kiss his cheek. In private tho... he is still afraid of hurting you, but he loves to cup your cheeks and kiss you deeply on the lips, making up for the time spent in public without kissing.

Nishinoya Yuu - he's in for all the kisses. Anywhere, anytime. Mostly on neck. He loves your scent, loves how warm/cold you are, how smooth is it. He prefers when you give him those biiig kisses. His other obsession is: blowing raspberries.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke - Tanaka is down bad. You can kiss him all you want, he accepts everything. He especially loves when you wear lipstick or lip gloss and leave marks. He loved every and I mean every type of kisses.

Kageyama Tobio - he may look like he doesn't love physical touch, but it's only slightly true. Now, in public he only wants good luck kisses, and he thinks about your shy or bold kiss while playing, and all the kisses you promised if he plays well (he gets them anyways). In private he loves to hold you, kiss your lips and forehead and also under your ears.

Hinata Shoyo - he loves to get and give kiss attacks. When kisses are pressed on every milimeter of skin. Playful kisser. He's actually loves kisses everywhere literally. Craves all the kisses and he thrives on them (for the first-some times he was even shy for cheek kisses).

Tsukishima Kei - Tsukishima acts like he hates kisses. That he doesn't want them. Sometimes he loves to tease you, refusing to kiss you, but in the end he always gives you all the kisses. His favorite to kiss is the top of your head and your sternum, given he doesn't shows his love often, he loves to kiss you where your heart beats, on your chest, your pulse point on your neck and wrist.

Yamaguchi Tadashi - he loves it when you kiss his freckles that's for sure. But he loves to kiss the places you think is ugly, or your insecurity. Stretch marks? He kisses. Moles? His lips are there. You don't like your dimples? His favorite. Old scars? He covers them with kisses. He knows how it feels to be insecure so he wants his girl to feel perfect.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Sorry I didn't include the other players, I don't know their characters enough to write anything with them :(

I hope yall liked it ♡

[mrscarpenter]

BED CHEM

Jacaerys Velaryon x Dornish!reader

Summary: The Prince gets send to gain a powerful alliance that the house targaryen has wanted for a long period of time, and he stumbles upon you. A gorgeous dornish queen.

Includes/warnings: dornish!reader this is probably horribly written so thats a warning in itself, not proof read but i believe Y/N has been used on multiple occasions. Did not give reader a description other than female & dark black curls. There is an age gap in this (reader is 16, jacaerys is 19, but it is never actually mentioned) like i said, not proof read, if you see any spelling errors feel free to point them out!

🪐notes: idk much abt the dornish, especially not in this timeline/au so please ignore any mistakes. Jace is not engaged to baela in this. :)

from my short & sweet collection

You were standing in the hall of your castle in SunSpear. Waiting for the arrival of the prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the iron throne and prince of DragonStone. Or he would be, had King Aegon Targaryen not usurped the iron throne.

The weather in Dorne was always exceptionally hot, so you wore a sheer gown. One thing about the Dornish was that you were not ashamed of anything, especially not what the gods had given you. The dress was a dark blue, with red and gold detailing, your long black curls hanging loosely over your shoulders.

Once you saw the prince arrive, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat silently, allowing a faked smug expression to fall upon your face.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, to what is the pleasure of your presence owed?”

It was all a different environment to what he was used to at DragonStone. The strong breeze of hot air, the lack of thick winter-like clothing, the more exposed body, the tanned skin... it was all such a strange sight to a prince accustomed to the cold. He bowed gently towards the young Queen of Dorne, and looked at her dress. He admired the work that her seamstresses had to do to look so good on her.

“A pleasure indeed, my lady. May we chat inside? It is quite hot here, I confess.”

you nod curtly. “Of course. i am afraid i am in a bit of a hurry though, many important matters to attend.” You point out a hand, allowing him to walk beside you as you walk up the steps into the castle.

Jacaerys follows you, watching the way you walk and the environment surrounding the palace. The hot air, the sun, the tanned skin.

He looks over at you, trying to figure out more about the queen of Dorne. “You are quite young, my lady. Not that I'm much older, but tell me what's it like being queen so young?”

“I am quite used to it. I have been Dorne’s ruler since i was 6 summers old. The Dornish are respectable people, and very direct. It hasn’t always been easy, but it felt natural.” You spoke.

Jacaerys nodded as you walked, thinking it was somewhat impressive someone that young could ever rule. He smiled slightly at your comment.

“I can see the directness in you already, if you'll forgive my boldness. You don't seem like you're the type of woman to beat around the bush, are you?”

Jacaerys was trying to figure you out, as any man with an interest in women would do. He walked beside you as you both spoke, trying to gauge his chances.

after a few seconds you speak up “No, i indeed am not. And i do not expect anyone else to either, if i step on anyone’s toes with my words, they are not company i should keep.”

That comment made Jacaerys smile, appreciating your honest nature. He couldn't deny how attractive blunt honesty was, especially in a place where everyone was so used to keeping secrets and making alliances all the time. “So you speak plainly?”

He knew women with bluntness often became some of the most interesting ones. And a queen, with an attitude like that, made a very intriguing proposition. As curious as your boldness made him, he couldn't deny his physical interests.

That dress... Gods...

You bring him out of his thoughts with your reply. “Yes i speak plainly, and so should you, Prince Jacaerys.” You spoke softly, almost gentle-like. It was very refreshing.

Jacaerys took a long look at your body, his eyes slowly glancing at the details of your dress. The way the skirt of the dress swayed with your movements and how the gown itself left little to the imagination. The way your curly locks dangled and moved. The way your skin shone with the sun's blessing...

His gaze finally returned to your face, the soft features combined with the dark eyes and long wavy hair. He couldn't deny what was crossing his mind right now. Your blunt nature, combined with the way you looked, was certainly making him wish for things.

He couldn't help himself, as he took another look at you, before finally speaking. “That must come in handy for a queen like you, my lady. You're much less... complicated than one would expect from a ruler.”

Jacaerys approached one step closer, his eyes still locked on yours.

“If I may ask, are you married or betrothed by any chance?”

Your blunt words, your direct manner, and your pretty face only encouraged his desires. And it seemed the prince was rather blunt with his intentions as well.

Your eyes locked with his, as he asked the question you were certain was coming.

Of course, he must be interested in some deal. Just like any man, the prince wouldn't be able to simply let a beautiful young queen pass by.

You took a moment to think, wondering what to share.. or perhaps hide. "No, my prince. I am unmarried."

The corner of Jacaerys' mouth curled into a small, cocky smile. "Oh, is that so?"

A hint of teasing was clear in his voice, his eyes still looking for something in yours.

"Well, I suppose that does have some upsides."

He took another step closer, until he was at an arm's distance. The young prince could smell the scent of the air in Dorne, the sun-kissed skin, and the expensive perfumes of a queen. "Tell me, how might a man catch the interest of the queen of Dorne?"

The prince's voice had the tone of teasing, making your eyebrow raise slightly. His sudden proximity also caught you slightly off guard, his physical interests becoming very clear to you.

You couldn't deny how handsome he was. And you guessed perhaps you could use a bit of fun, considering you were unmarried and in your youthful prime.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, his eyes burning a hole through your face. "Hm... What are you offering? Your family is at war, are they not? your visit is political.”

The prince let out a quiet chuckle, letting his eyes wander over your body for a moment.

The dress was certainly eye-catching, the way it hugged your curves, allowing his imagination to let loose...

The words you spoke only made his eyes find their way back to your own, and the smirk he had on his face only grew.

"Is the possibility of a political alliance enough to catch your interest, my lady?"

You watched the prince's eyes as they caressed your body, the boldness in his gaze, and the clear interest that you knew was there. You knew how to take advantage of an opportunity..

"Depends on what kind of a deal you're suggesting, my prince." There was an undeniable flirtation in your voice, your own subtle way of teasing him.

The prince didn't hide the smirk that spread across his face after that statement. His hand slowly reached over to your waist, his touch feeling the silky fabric of your dress.

"Would a marriage perhaps suffice?"

Your dress, as thin as it already was, provided no barrier against his touch. You could feel each stroke of his fingers, his thumb moving in circular motions against the thin fabric.

The marriage proposal was expected, but it seemed the prince had a more hands-on approach in mind.

You kept a straight face, not to give away how your mind was beginning to wander with the possibility of a marriage. "What would I gain? And what would you expect in return?"

He didn't let your serious expression stop his hands from wandering over the silk of your gown, his hand moving across your waist and down your side. "You would gain protection, support, and a powerful alliance."

"And I would gain..." He leaned closer, his breath against your skin, "A gorgeous Dornish queen as a wife..."

Your heart began to race as his words and his hand continued it's exploration of your side, the anticipation of where those hands might end up was growing.

The prince's proximity and the way he slowly looked at you, expecting some kind of reaction. You stayed firm, holding back the subtle reaction you felt with his words.

"Hm... We might have a deal, my prince."

And with that, his lips ended on yours.

Requested by: @avatar4life

explore post. masterlist.

please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. <3

© mrscarpenter, 2024.

[mari-positas]

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵