#additional muses on blog

[nieithryn]

Liz’s Muses by Category: A Novel By Liz

Jedi: Bant, Depa, Einne, Ikrit, Jocasta, Ki-Adi Mundi, Mace, Plo, Quinlan, Tholme Total #: 10

Sith: Krayt*, Maladi, Wyyrlok Total #: 3

Clones: Cody, Cad, Pony, Grey Total #: 4

Fetts: Arla, Boba, Jango Total #: 3

Government Officials: Annubin, Bail Organa, Calista Serenno-Nu*, Wulff Yularen Total #: 4

Miscreants: Aruk, Cad Bane, Dexter Jettster, Tet*, Villie, Zam Total #: 6

Total Muses: 30

(?) = Trial Muse/Old Muse/May get dropped * = Could fit into multiple categories

[nightmarefuele]

as a scorpio, these are [ JOKER's ] typical dark sides:

Jealousy: Scorpio individuals can be prone to intense feelings of jealousy, often leading to possessiveness and mistrust in relationships.

Secretive: They have a tendency to keep their thoughts, emotions, and intentions hidden, which can lead to difficulties in communication.

Manipulativeness: Due to their strong intuition, Scorpios might use their insights to manipulate situations and people to their advantage.

Intense Mood Swings: They can experience extreme emotional highs and lows, making their interactions and behavior unpredictable.

Stubbornness: Scorpios can be very determined and sometimes resistant to changing their opinions or plans.

Vindictiveness: If hurt, they might hold onto grudges and seek revenge, sometimes at the expense of their own well-being.

Overbearing: They might come across as controlling or domineering in their relationships, leading to power struggles.

Sensitivity to Criticism: Scorpios can take criticism very personally, sometimes reacting defensively or with hostility.

Fixation on the Negative: They might focus on the negative aspects of situations, leading to a somewhat pessimistic outlook.

Difficulty Forgiving: Scorpios can find it hard to forgive and forget, which can hinder personal growth and healing.

Remember that not all Scorpios will exhibit these features to the same extent. People are complex and can exhibit a combination of positive and negative traits, regardless of their zodiac sign.

yours truly took this forever ago for no reason at all and then forgot it was in their drafts. like i've forgotten 99% of things in my (69 ((yes, i know))) drafts. which i am clearing out* Now. tagging: @apphrodite, @fragmcntdstars, @qu-tipie, @ner0tic, @wickedxwebs, because the only signs i 'know' are scorpio and aries and i feel your muses may be different. + anyone else who wants to do this.

[doomxdriven]

MUSE: SHUSUKE AMAGAI

OVERVIEW

Name: Amagai Shūsuke Nicknames: Ama-Ama Gender: Male Height: 6'3” Eye-Color: Amber/Yellow Orientation: Bisexual Residence: Soul Society / Karakura Town (Verse Dependent) Occupation: Gotei 13 Captain / Ex Gotei 13 Captain (Verse Dependent) MBTI: ENFP-T ENNEAGRAM: 3w2 ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

PERSONALITY

Amagai is deceptive and ruthless at his core, and is no stranger to manipulating events and people to further his own desires. Amagai can also at times be stubborn, occasionally to his own detriment, and when encountering enemies, he can be haughty (again, occasionally to his detriment), believing himself to be all-powerful in light of his Zanpakuto and Bakkoto, and when it comes to combat in general, he is prone to taunting.

When interacting with non-enemies and non combatants, however, Amagai is friendly, confident, laid back, fun-loving, jestful, and if you are truly on his good side, he can be fiercely caring, loyal. Amagai can also be quite serious when the situation calls for it, has no shortage of charisma either, or brains (even if he can sometimes come off as goofy), and while he doesn’t strictly obey the law, often breaking or bending it on the sly to help others or suit his needs, openly he is ethical and law-abiding enough to be seen as responsible and principled. Though make no mistake, Amagai does truly have standards, and morals, and looks down upon those society would dub ‘evil’.

Another thing to note is that, for as haughty and ruthless as Amagai can be he doesn’t hate people easily, even enemies, unless of course you are one of the people he believes is involved with his father’s death, his hatred runs deep for those people. To a lesser, though significant extent, Amagai also has a special hatred for Hollows.

Furthermore, while Amagai is not quick to anger, when he is pushed too far his rage is often insurmountable, with it being very hard for him to calm down or be calmed by those around him, outside of him being knocked out cold. Apart from all that, Amagai has something of an… alcohol problem, in the sense that his tolerance for it is hilariously low, to the point where even smelling alcohol can make him a little tipsy, let alone drinking any which will likely leave him sloshed beyond reason after just a few sips, regardless of the drink in question’s strength!

STORY

Amagai was born Shuu Kisaragi, and was son to a 1st Division Shinigami by the name of Shin'etsu Kisaragi. Amagai would go on to change his name after his father’s suspicious death, going forward as Shūsuke Amagai from then on, an identity he kept when he eventually joined the Onmitsukido and the Gotei 13's 2nd Division himself to learn the truth behind his father’s fate. Throughout his formative years in the Gotei 13 and Onmitsukido, Amagai gathered all the information he could surrounding his father’s death, eventually learning that items known as ‘Bakkoto’ were somehow related.

After learning about the Bakkoto, Amagai intensified his investigation over the next few years, balancing his duties in the 2nd Division and Onmitsukido with his search for the truth. Amagai's ceaseless search would inevitably pay off, however, when he learned that the Bakkoto were being produced by the Kasumioji Clan, and also that his father, Shin'etsu, had investigated them and attempted to bring their crimes to light.

Sadly, as Amagai learned, Central 46 went on to ignore said crimes and barred Shin'etsu from investigating further, and when Shin'etsu continued their investigation anyway, they were reported to have been 'killed in action'. Further research would eventually reveal that it was Yamamoto who had stuck his father down, due to what Amagai assumed was a cover up on behalf of the Kasumioji and Central 46.

With this knowledge in hand, Amagai would go onto swear revenge upon those responsible for his father’s death, resolving to bring down the Kasumioji and all who enabled them, namely Yamamoto, the corrupt Central 46, and the nobility of the Soul Society in general. Amagai was no fool, however, and knew that his revenge against the Kasumioji, Yamamoto, the general nobility, and their Central 46 cohorts would not be easy– Amagai needed to become stronger, and gain more influence, and so he did, rather swiftly at that.

On top of honing his skills in Kido, Hakuda, and Zanjutsu, Amagai would go on to steal a powerful Bakkoto from Gyōkaku Kumoi (caretaker of the Kasumioji Clan), a tool that would assist him in becoming a rising star, or in the words of others, an anamoly within the 2nd Division and Onmitsukido. Through all of his efforts, Amagai would wind up being appointed as the leader of a special unit within the Onmitsukido that was tasked with hunting down especially dangerous Hollows and Arrancar, and it was during this time that he would see the achievement of yet another milestone of his growing power; his Bankai.

After Gin Ichimaru’s defection from the Soul Society, Amagai would be chosen to head the 3rd Division, fighting Kenpachi Zaraki during his captain exam and passing said exam with both Yamamoto and another Captain present, with it being noted that someone from the Patrol Corps attaining Captaincy in Amagai’s fashion was most unheard of, and that gave his reputation something of a headstart….

ABILITIES,SKILLS

Master Swordsman: Amagai was well known for his swordsmanship even while serving in the Patrol Corps, and as a captain, his skill with the sword, both offensively and defensively, is among the best– and that is with just his Zanpakuto alone. If Amagai wishes, he can easily wield both Zanpakuto and Bakkoto at once, becoming even deadlier and more effective with his swordsmanship than he was before.

Shunpo Expert: Amagai is not the fastest captain of the Gotei 13 but his Shunpo is nothing to balk at, as he can easily keep up with or outpace most captain-level opponents, even despite his size or when wielding the larger, bulkier form of his Zanpakuto.

Kidō Master: Amagai has an immense understanding of Kido and can employ an interesting and effective array of powerful, high level spells to assail his enemies, protect himself and his allies, or manipulate time & space, all without the need for incantation and the drawbacks that usually entails. Amagai’s understanding of Kido is so advanced that he has managed to create unique spells as well, one such being able to completely hide his presence and spiritual energy, preventing him from being tracked, and another granting him true teleportation.

Hakuda Master: Being a former high ranking member of the Onmitsukidō, Amagai is highly proficient in this skill. Amagai is particularly skillful in the handling of enemy weapons bare-handed, and its not rare to see him grab a blade or other dangerous instrument mid fight and knock it aside, stop it altogether, or even use it against the original wielder in some temporary fashion without hurting himself in the process.

Immense Spiritual Power: Amagai’s Spiritual Power is massive, and can catch the attention of onlookers by just releasing his Shikai alone, not to mention his Bankai. Amagai’s Spritual Power is so much, in fact, that he can unleash his Bankai and the second form of his Bakkoto at once and wield both without any noticeable drawbacks to his body or psyche almost indefinitely.

Masterful Reiatsu Control: Amagai both possesses powerful Reiatsu and has great control over that Reiatsu. Amagai’s Reiatsu is elemental as well, being naturally fiery. If exerted heavily enough, Amagai's Reiatsu will not only cause pain and confusion to those of weaker Reiatsu, but can also scorch them.

Immense Endurance and Durability: Amagai’s endurance is a sight to behold, being able to endure or shrug off intense blows that would usually deal great damage to others, while also being able to continue fighting at peak performance with serious injuries over extended periods of time. During Amagai’s years in the Patrol Corps, and later during his Captain's Exam duel with Kenpachi Zaraki, he was known to have suffered serious injuries multiple times but continued on regardless as if wholly unimpeded.

Enhanced Strength: Amagai possesses great physical strength, even for a Captain of the Gotei 13, being able to hold or fend off both bladed and Reiatsu based attacks with sheer force alone, sometimes without any visible stress.

Expert Strategist & Tactician / Highly Perceptive Combatant: Amagai possesses a highly capable intellect, being far smarter than he may first appear to others. There are other captains who may be better with strategy, or who can think more quickly and more adequately on their feet than Amagai, but even so he is no slouch– especially in battle, he is often able to see through his opponents' attack patterns and battle methods, and he can adjust quickly to new developments, and act accordingly to them.

ZANPAKUTO & TECHNIQUES

Raika (雷火, Lightning Flash)

In its sealed form, Raika resembles a kodachi. It has an olive-green hilt, with a bronze bow-shaped tsuba. Amagai carries it in a red scabbard attached to a strap hanging on his waist.

SHIKAI

Raika’s release command is Sever (断ち切れ, tachikire). Amagai holds his Zanpakutō upside down behind his back and calls out the release command. In its Shikai, Raika takes the form of a white long-sword, with a hook at the end and curved, shell-like pipes that form the hilt. Upon transformation, the pipes emit flames, in both Shikai and Bankai form. The flames emitting from the holes produce a sound similar to a trumpet. The release of Amagai’s Zanpakutō is followed by an extreme release of Reiatsu that can be felt for miles.

SHIKAI TECHNIQUES

SPECIAL ABILITY: The pipes of Raika emit fire, heating the blade and causing it to take on a more fiery color. By heating the blade, it becomes strong enough to resist and repel attacks on the level of a fully powered Getsuga Tenshō. In addition, Amagai can freely manipulate any flames that are emitted from Raika, granting a number of useful, and deadly applications.

Learned during the events of the TYBW, a special quirk of the flames emitted from Raika is that they deal increased damage to opponents who harbor great amounts of 'bad' karma.

— FIREBALLS Amagai can focus fireballs into the crux of Raika’s hook, and by swinging forward, he can quickly launch large fireballs through the air at his targets. Its attack power is great enough to counter the Shikai of Hyōrinmaru, the most powerful ice-based Zanpakutō. The blast radius of these fireballs, large or small, is also great.

— GEYSERS OF FIRE Amagai can focus fireballs into the crux of the hook and, by slamming it into the ground, quickly create large fissures of flames that travel to the enemy at high speeds. — FLAMING STRIKES After focusing flames around Raika’s blade, Amagai can unleash flaming, blade-like blasts at foes, with varying strength and intensity depending on how long he initially ‘charges up’ the attack.

BANKAI: Raika Goen Kaku (雷火・業炎殻, Lightning Flash: Karmic Flame Shell)

Amagai holds out his Zanpakutō in front of him as fire swells around him. Raika becomes a large and more detailed version of its former self. Raika Gōen Kaku takes the form of an enlarged sword, and turns the edge of the blade a crimson red color, with a hook at the end. The inner side of the hooked blade sports several jagged edges. A large white shell with a light-purple trim covers the hilt. A massive hollow pauldron/shield with the handle is hidden behind it. The sword is just a little taller than Amagai in this form.

BANKAI TECHNIQUES

Special Ability: In this form, Raika’s blade becomes fiery, and fire sprays from the pauldron when its abilities are being used, with the Zanpakuto’s overall Fire Manipulation becoming greater. The sword’s fire-based techniques are much quicker, more potent, larger, and powerful in this form, and the pauldron on his sword can be used for defense. The general vicinity around Amagai also becomes incredibly hot, to the point where those who are merely standing near him can be severely burned depending on their defenses durability, and how much of his Reiatsu he is exerting.

During the events of the TYBW, the latter effect becomes even more pronounced on account of Amagai furthering his potential with Raika, and the 'Karmic' aspect of the flames generated by Raika are increased even further as well.

— Flamethrower While in this form, Raika’s pauldron acts as a high intensity flamethrower when it is turned toward an opponent, incinerating all in it’s path.

— Enhanced Fireballs Like in his Shikai, Amagai can fireball both medium-sized and large fireballs from Raika’s Hook. He can fire the smaller fireballs in rapid succession by spinning the blade above his head, to terrifying effect. Fireballs launched when Amagai’s Bankai is active are much more powerful than those loosed by his Shikai, with the larger ones having an especially large blast radius and force behind them, capable of wrecking great devastation to opponents over a wide area.

— Enhanced Geysers of Flame Amagai can thrust his heated blade into the ground and generate spouts of fire that erupt from the ground a short distance away from him. Amagai is able to perform this form of the technique in rapid succession, forcing the target to quickly evade the flames, or risk being incinerated. — Enhanced Flaming Strikes The flaming strikes Amagai can unleash with Raika have their power enhanced significantly, and they can be charged up and unleashed much quicker than their Shikai variant.

— Fissures of Flame Amagai heats Raika, engulfing it in fire, and by slamming it in the ground, it creates a massive wave of flame that swiftly rushes forward and incinerates any enemy that stands in it’s way.

— Sea of Flames As Raika heats up, Amagai holds it vertically and slams his sword into the ground, generating a massive wave of fire that heads toward the enemy.

— Goen Ryuga (業炎龍牙, Dragon Fang’s Karmic Flame) Amagai twirls Raika sword above his head, and the blade is engulfed in fire while flames shoot from the pauldron and lightning builds. He then slams the blade into the ground, accompanied by a lighting strike. The earth begins to shake over a wide area, and a multitude of powerful flaming spears shoot from the ground at lighting speed in various angles to trap opponent’s in a prison of flames, or conversely, to impale and burn them. It is quite possibly Raika’s deadliest attack, though also it’s most costly in terms of the energy it requires to utilize do to the sheer area it covers. Friendly fire is very likely if Amagai uses this technique with allies nearby.

— Gōen Ryūga: Homura (業炎龍牙・焔, Dragon Fang’s Karmic Flame Blaze) Amagai lifts Raika over his head and covers its entirety in flames. He then slashes at his opponent, launching a massive fireball at them. The Fireball that is launched with this attack creates an intense explosion that can cover an extremely wide area, but more than that, the concentration of flames that this fireball consists of is immense, and any target caught within its radius of impact will likely be incinerated on contact. Friendly fire is very likely if Amagai uses this technique with allies nearby.

— Raiendan Amagai points Raika forward, and its blade begins to glow red hot. Condensing at the tip of the blade, a moderately sized fireball grows before splitting apart into multiple smaller fireballs, which are all launched toward a target. Though initially spread out in a line, these fireballs converge on the target as they approach it, quite literally seeking them out.

These fireballs only seek the target out until they get close enough to them, however, meaning an opponent who is observant and swift enough can dodge them at the last second, but those who are unfortunate enough to be struck will suffer grave burns, along with massive internal injury, as the force behind these fireballs is strong enough to shatter stone.

BAKKOTO & TECHNIQUES

Base Form: Tuning Fork

In it’s base form, Amagai’s Bakkōtō is shaped like a tuning fork, with the sides curving inward and the tip of the blades curving outward. Amagai keeps the Bakkoto sheathed in a wide white scabbard, which hangs on the right side of his waist. This Bakkoto is unique among other Bakkoto in that it can eat other Bakkoto (to gain strength, and has consumed numerous Bakkoto already), and shares a special bond with Amagai, increasing it’s effectiveness above other Bakkoto dramatically.

BAKKOTO: BASE FORM ABILITIES & TECHNIQUES

— Energy Blast’s (Ranged-Mode) Amagai can fire an energy blast from the Bakkoto in this form. This blast resembles a sound wave, and is incredibly powerful, being strong enough to destroy the Kōtotsu in the Dangai (a feat that has only ever been achieved by one other person,Sōsuke Aizen), meaning this blast poses a serious threat to anyone or anything it’s aimed at.

— Energy Blade (Melee-Mode) By tapping the Bakkoto against the hilt of his Zanpakutō, Amagai can produce a large blade of green, concentrated, plasma-like Reiryoku from the Bakkoto, increasing it’s melee range and effectiveness though weakening the power of it’s energy blasts considerably. The Bakkoto’s blade burns at an extremely high temperature, however, and any flesh, clothing,, armor, or surface it touches will be melted, scorched, incinerated, or ignited on contact.

— Communication Field By stabbing the Bakkoto’s Energy Blade into the ground, Amagai can engulf himself in a large pillar of green energy. While doing this, Amagai can communicate with others within a over a wide area. The more of his Reiryoku Amagai pours into the Bakkoto, the greater a distance he can communicate through.

Second Form: Dragon's Blade

The eye nucleus of this Bakkōtō is hidden within the bottom of the hilt. It is unique in that it feeds on the nuclei of other Bakkōtō. By tapping the Bakkoto while holding it upside down, the nuclei releases by extending itself like a tendril up and around Amagai’s right arm, transforming into a armored black gauntlet shaped like a dragon.

From the initial release, the gauntlet can fully encompass the entire arm, creating a claw on the hand. A sash-like component comes over Amagai’s left shoulder and down to his waist, containing additional Bakkōtō nuclei. Attaching the armored right arm and the sash is something reminiscent of a dragon’s tail, which hangs freely from the upper shoulder area of the back.

BAKKOTO: SECOND FORM ABILITIES AND TECHNIQUES

Special Ability: When in it’s Second Form, the Bakkoto extends down and generates a spiritual energy blade from what resembles a dragon’s mouth. When thrust into the ground, it sends out a resonating pulse that severs a being's ties to their own Reiryoku, cutting them off from any supernatural abilities they may possess– for example, Shinigami are cut off from their special abilities like Kido and Hoho, and their Zanpakutō become useless.

This Reiryoku-severing can also be done by striking a person or their weapon directly. This ability affects everyone in its general vicinity for as long as its active. However, the ability does not affect Amagai’s own Zanpakutō or Reiryoku. The Bakkoto’s special ability has almost no affect on Hollow powers, however, and will only blunt them briefly at best.

— Enhanced Energy Blast, Blade, and Communication Field The Bakkoto’s base abilities in this form are enhanced and the weaknesses associated with it’s melee and ranged modes are erased, since it is now all-in-one, both ranged and melee.

— Altered Reiatsu When fused with his Bakkōtō in this manner, Amagai's Reiatsu is altered-- while it retains its fiery nature, it changes to a neon green color, and begins to burn even hotter than before. In kind, the intensity of Amagai's Reiatsu grows as well in this state.

If Amagai has both his Bankai active and is fused with his Bakkōtō at the same time, his Reiatsu will fluctuate between neon-green and fiery-red depending on which he is utilizing at the moment (the two colors spiraling around but never mixing with each other when both instruments are used simultaneously), but more notably, the 'burning' that his Reiatsu is capable of will be increased exponentially in such a situation.

— Immense Durability, Strength, & Pain Tolerance When fused with his Bakkōtō, Amagai's durability, physical strength, and tolerance for pain skyrockets, with him being able to shrug off blows that would otherwise seriously maim people above a Captain's ranking, perform obscene feats of strength like effortlessly tearing off limbs or punching through solid steel structures, and allow him to function through pain that would typically cripple even the most ardent fighters. The longer Amagai stays fused with his Bakkōtō, the stronger his durability and tolerance to pain becomes, but of course it also comes with drawbacks (see caveats below).

BAKKOTO CAVEAT

— Amagai possesses more than enough spiritual energy to maintain his Bakkoto, and can even maintain both the Bakkoto and his Bankai simultaneously for a long time if need be, but at the end of the day he can still push himself too far and leave open the possibility that his Bakkoto will damage his body and mind.

The damage incurred on Amagai’s mind and body by the Bakkoto in those instances where he overextends himself can be reversed with proper healing Kido and rest, but there can come a point where either type of damage, or both, will simply go to far. In extreme cases, the Bakkoto could potentially kill Amagai on the spot, devouring his whole body and leaving him as a desiccated husk on the battlefield. A very terrifying way to go.

— Also, the Bakkoto, while increasing Amagai's own durability, and its own durable armor-like surfaces, is not as durable when it comes to the eye-nuclei it possesses, and if all of it’s eye-nuclei are damaged, the Bakkoto will enter a “repair state” and become useless for the duration of a battle.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I adore when I see blogs I recognize on other posts that organically come on to my dashboard

[bluesunsdusk]

--// I may be baby, but I treat my ocs with the same if not more weight as my canon characters. It's our pen-given right to be absolutely feral about the worlds and people we create. ))

[wulv3r]

okay gonna be a national hero and like...... make fucking tags.....

[captivemuses]

Muse list update:

-Yanqing (added to secondary while he's still in baby muse stage) -Bennett (moved to secondary) -Gaming (moved to secondary) -Gorou (moved to secondary) -Meis (moved to request only) -Ryuji (moved to request only) -Sorey (moved to request only)

I moved down a few Genshin muses that have always been on the lower maintenance side anyway, like always being present but not being so demanding of my attention 24/7 like others are. Cherry stays on secondary with sk8 s2 and the OVA on the horizon I have a feeling he's going to make a resurgence once we finally get both those. Tokyo Revengers only stay on secondary because I have friends who still RP there that could garner a response if they really wanted to. Lio stayed on secondary because his muse had always been much higher than Meis but I refuse to get rid of Meis bc I still love him too much even tho Promare has next to no rpc. But things are spread out a bit more and balanced now which I think was needed.

As always those three muse lists are subject to change but an overhaul was overdue anyway. Next up to do is Yanqing's muse page so that's where I'll be before I think about any drafts.

[sakurarisen]

Just a heads up to some edits I’ve been working on the past few days:

I’ll be running this blog a little differently going forward! Sera is now what I call a Tri-Main in her primary settings; I’ll be focusing less on solely Final Fantasy with a crapton of AUs, and more on FF, Genshin Impact, and the original setting Spellbound as the main and primary verses! All the other AUs and the like are staying intact as AUs, nothing is changing in regards to relationships or threads - I’m just making this a dual-fandom and original setting type of blog! <3

Edited Sera’s carrd in regards to the above; GI and Spellbound are now their own sections in full with room to grow, rather than crammed into one space.

In regards to the carrd: I’ve split it up a big better into FF/main info, GI, and Spellbound. As previously mentioned, the later two have their own full sections - Anything in them pertains to their verses only (i.e. Sera’s snow leopard features at GI only, fox goddess is Spellbound only, etc.), but the main carrd was a little harder to split up. Thus, ‘FF/Main Info’ contains the overall personality, appearance, and the like that applies to everything regardless of verse, and anything noted to be FF related, like mentions of Midgar and Gongaga and so forth, are FF based *only*. The same applies for the AUs in the misc section.

There’s a new blog as a side to this one: @risingstarcatcher​, a semi-private multimuse for GI! <3 Things there are still being ironed out in regards to muses and their abouts, so expect some changes if popping in!

The rest of my blogs will be following suit with Sera in the Tri-Main style in coming weeks as I figure out what to do with things around here.

I’m slowly catching up on things and have been for the last several weeks, but between stress and my health, focus hasn’t been my strongest ability, and I’ve been doing a lot of gaming instead to try and keep my mind off it. Apologies for the long waits, and a ton of thank you’s for the patience with me TWT <3

~Pom

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friends of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a fried at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[joelhoney]

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads. 

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.” 

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?” 

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past. 

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.” 

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages. 

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately. 

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts. 

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous. 

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained. 

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom. 

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on. 

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his. 

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight. 

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—” 

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him. 

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small. 

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.” 

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts.  The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever. 

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

[suchaficklething-main]

BREAKING NEWS! & HEAR ALL ABOUT IT!

Twin Single and Multimuse Blog Carrds with an old newspaper theme! BREAKING NEWS is the single muse one and HEAR ALL ABOUT IT is the multi muse!

FEATURES: A beautiful newspaper based layout with lots of space to give additional details about characters! The single muse one has an expanded bio and the multi muse one has a more grid like one. Also includes a verses page, a connections page, a rules page, and a front page that you can have articles that you write for your characters! If you need any help with editing this to fit your vision please dm me on here and I will do what I can to help!

TERMS OF USE: Like or Reblog if you plan to use it! You are welcome to edit to your hearts content but regardless of how much change you make do NOT remove my credit from the carrd! Do NOT use this to promote hate or illegal content! (this includes call-out carrds and burn-books)

PRICE: Free but tips are always appreciated!

BREAKING NEWS (Single Muse Carrd) PREVIEW | PURCHASE

HEAR ALL ABOUT IT (MultiMuse Carrd) PREVIEW | PURCHASE

[magpiesmemes]

REBLOG THIS IF YOU'RE A MARVEL ROLEPLAY BLOG

This includes Multimuses with Marvel characters! Personal blogs please do not share, this is for roleplay specific blog please and thank you!

Ideally please put muse names and sources (IE. Steve Rogers/616/headcanon) in the tags to help people find characters they want to interact with when looking through the reblogs! OCs welcome to reblog - just specify 'OC' in the tags, maybe something along the lines of 'shield agent', 'Guardian of the Galaxy', 'Mutant', etc. if you'd like to add additional info!

[dipplinshipping-week-2024]

Howdy folks!! Proud to finally announce ✨ Dipplinshipping Week ✨ for the public!!

Couple Things:

🍏 This is a dedicated blog that will help spread any additional news as well as reblog and share all art and writing and more contributed to this event.

🍏 As of now, the dates are settled to be April 1st thru April 7th.

🍏 The prompts are as follows:

🍎 Day One — First Impression/Muse

🍎 Day Two — AU/Masks

🍎 Day Three — Confession/Battle

🍎 Day Four — Sacrifice/Stargaze

🍎 Day Five — Lost/Flowers

🍎 Day Six — Festival/Apologies

🍎 Day Seven — Apples/Weddings/Freebie

🍏 Hope to see everyone there! Can’t wait to see what you will all create!!

Infographic and Blog Art made by @cosmic-seer

[xianyoon]

TO BE LOVED ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

CH. 3 ━ DILUC, THE PHOTOGRAPHER

synopsis. ⤷ to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. a series where you, the reader, are their muse. let them love you in the way they know best – their mastercraft. this is a reupload + additions of my work from my previous blog.

genre + warning. ⤷ photographer!diluc x gn!reader. comfort & fluff. insecure reader. descriptions of insecurities are based off my own.

to be loved by diluc, the photographer — you are his model, day and night. he carries his camera when he can, and needless to say . . . more than three quarters of his camera roll is filled with pictures of you. they’re not perfect pictures, but they’re beautiful to him. and that is the only thing he cares about.

”diluc, don’t! i don’t look nice here.” you laugh. your lover, in a rare bout of unbridled playfulness, pretends to be your personal paparazzi – snapping pictures of you at all angles.

“you look good in every photo, my love.” he chuckles, and runs you through the most recent photos he took.

oh, archons. it’s blurry. your cheeks look huge. your chin… “you look good.” – was diluc blind, or lying?

you tighten your smile and turn back to your work, waving away thoughts that turn into jealous green monsters over others who would look good– no, perfect, in his camera, no matter how imperfect their pose was.

“hey,” diluc sees the frown on your face. “i mean it, sunshine. you look wonderful.”

“how?” you blink back frustrated tears. he doesn't understand. “diluc, open your eyes. my eyes are uneven in this one. my cheeks look like a chipmunk feasting. my chin.. i don’t even want to think about my chin. i don’t look good at all, diluc.”

he stays quiet for a moment, and you wonder if spilling all that pierced through your heart like glass shards was the right thing to say at all.

maybe just keep quiet next time, (y/n). don’t insult his work – your insecurities are yours to hold alone, right?

diluc tenderly tucks your hair away from your eyes, and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i urge you – look again, (y/n).”

“you didn’t edit anything, diluc.”

diluc thumbs away a stray tear as he cups your face – a betrayal to your plea to your body to keep quiet.

just keep quiet, (y/n).

your lover takes your shoulders and sits you down gently, kneeling next to you, camera in hand. you don't deserve to be treated as gently as he treats you, do you?

“you don’t look good, you say? interesting.” diluc has a placid smile on his face as he runs through his camera roll again – you are afraid of angering him, of doubting his craft – but how can you see those pictures and be so satisfied with the ugliness that the model holds?

“why don’t you believe me? i’m the one who sees it.” you reply indignantly. it hurts.

“i don’t believe so, not at all. you may see it that way, but i see that you are smiling in each and every one of them, my love. you are happy and you are beautiful, my sun –undoubtedly so – that is what the camera captures. is that not what matters the most?”

[delta-orionis]

I made an updated ref for my iterator OC Three Stars Above Clouds! Not much has changed since I designed them earlier this year, but I figured it was useful to make a more detailed ref sheet (primarily for my own convenience).

I’ve included some extra biographical info as well as my region map for TSAC’s internals, as well as what their can looks like from the outside, and the inside of their puppet chamber.

I have an in-character ask blog for TSAC over here. Give it a look! I love exploring their character and I'm having a lot of fun.

Some additional links:

TSAC's original ref (contains an extended backstory as well)

TSAC's region map (contains descriptions of the subregions and connections)

TSAC's facility grounds map (details their surrounding area and explains the purposes of each section)

TSAC's general tag on my main blog (misc. info and musings)

A transcription for the text in the images plus some additional notes can be found under the cut.

[ First image - a standard character reference sheet ]

Three Stars Above Clouds

Experimental mountaintop iterator created to catalogue and study celestial objects. Iterator of the Institute-Metropolis of Zenith*. Director of the Zenith Stellar Observatory Consortium and Lead Archivist of the Zenith Data Archives. they/them

Three Stars Above Clouds is an iterator- a massive biomechanical superstructure and supercomputer designed by the "Ancient" civilization to search for a true Solution for Global Ascension.

Three Stars Above Clouds ('TSAC' for short, occasionally 'Three Stars' or rarely just 'Stars') was created by a Firmamentalist** splinter group of Ancients who believed that the Solution could only be found in the sky. TSAC was created to be an advanced stellar observatory, meticulously cataloguing and analyzing all manner of night sky phenomena, as well as a home and institute of learning for the researchers, scholars, and priests of the Firmamentalist sect.

[ Second image - A drawing of TSAC facing away from the viewer, next to an extended description ]

TSAC might not share all of their creators' beliefs, but believes their assigned task of recording and studying the sky to be of upmost importance. They take this responsibility very seriously and value it above all else.

As a result, they are quite reclusive, always too busy with work to talk to anyone. Before the Global Ascension Event, the majority of their social contact was with high-ranking researchers and priests from Zenith, as well as brief, professional conversations with other iterators in their field to discuss theories and compare data. Because all of their social development was in a formal academic setting, they have a polite, professional, almost robotic tone (even by iterator standards).

Despite this, TSAC is not actively antisocial. They enjoy talking to others, and enjoy education in particular. However their intense focus on their work and sheltered upbringing meant they very rarely initiated social contact, only responding if spoken to first. After the Global Ascension Event, TSAC became even more reclusive, choosing only to listen to broadcasts and rarely speaking publicly, if ever.

In the absence of their creators, TSAC was no longer in charge of managing everyday life in the city of Zenith and found themself with free time for the first time in ages. Their self reflections during this time, combined with the worsening decay of the global iterator communications network, made TSAC realize that they barely knew their fellow iterators, and they decided to try and get to know them before they lost the chance.

---

*Zenith is the name of the city atop TSAC's can. It is home to several colleges, research institutes, and observatories.

**The Firmamentalists are the name I came up with for the group that created TSAC. They share much of the same religious beliefs as the rest of Ancient society, but believe that the Solution can only be found by searching the sky (aka the firmament). I'll assume that Firmamentalists or other like-minded splinter groups created other similar astronomy-focused iterators.

The Firmamentalist society of Zenith places a focus on education and the acquisition of knowledge, and considers anything related to learning holy. To learn is to better understand the nature of the carnal plane, as well as how to ascend beyond it. Three Stars Above Clouds was created to aid them in this task.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-seven] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: public-ish sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), switch!minho

“So, what movie are we seeing?” you asked, exhaling deeply to try and physically release the stress you’d been holding. 

Minho pursed his lips, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “So the thing is, it’s not really a movie, movie.”

“Minho, what are we watching?”

He mumbled it. “A BTS concert from 2019.”

“You took me to see your own movie?”

“It’s what they were showing! I had nothing to do with it, like they’re in the middle of a marathon. Last week they showed one from 2018.”

“Seems awfully convenient,” you mused. 

“Trust me, I know. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at their website earlier.  But I promise I had nothing to do with it. Apparently, they have a really big fanbase in Hawai’i. You really think I’m so tacky I’d take a date to my own gig?”

“No comment.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have taken you to a K-pop thing if there was something else playing, but there’s only the one lot. The music is good, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Minhno smirked. “I do say so. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I hear there’s someone very good-looking performing.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be really handsome, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” you quipped. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you laugh.

“What are we doing here, then?”

“We’re on our date!”

“But we could leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants on the first date,” you scoffed. 

“I don’t have to try,” Minho pointed out. “I was already successful before our date. Many times, actually.”

“I was there, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes through a grin. “Positive.”

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assured him, leaning over the center console to nudge his shoulder. 

You stayed there, shoulders resting against each other. He looked over and smiled at you before reaching for your hand and taking it in his. He lifted his other hand to check his watch. 

“The movie starts in about ten. I know they have a concession stand but if you want snacks you’ll probably have to be the one to get them. I can give you the money, obviously, I just can’t…”

“Leave the car,” you finished for him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’ll go see what they have,” you decided. Minho handed you his wallet but you didn’t take it. “It’s on me. You bought the movie tickets.”

“You know I’m in this movie, right? You don’t have to worry about splitting the cost of everything.”

“I know, just, let me do this.”

Minho held his hands up in surrender and pocketed his wallet. “Fine, fine. Can you get me a beer?”

“Sure. Any kind in particular?”

“Whatever they have is fine. I’m not picky.”

You nodded and stepped out of the car, smoothing your dress out in case it had ridden up. You stood on your tip toes and craned your neck to try and find the concession stand above all of the cars. 

Luckily, there was a big neon sign that read CONCESSIONS with an arrow pointing to a kiosk that was presumably sitting underneath it. 

You wove inefficiently through the parking lot over to the sign, sighing when you spotted the long line. It was moving pretty fast so you didn’t have to wait very long and by the time you made it to the front, you still hadn’t decided what to get. 

The woman behind the counter looked bored and impatient so naturally, you panicked. 

“Hi, um can I please get a medium popcorn and two Nerds Ropes?”

“Anything to drink?”

Your eyes flicked to the menu overhead but all of the options seemed to blend together in an unintelligible jumble. “Uh, a water bottle and a peach High Noon, please. And what kind of beer do you guys have?”

She listed off a handful. You chose the first one you recognized and hoped it was one Minho wouldn’t mind too much. You waited as she ID’ed you and rang you up, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar when she handed you your change. 

You had stupidly declined a tray so you had to very precariously carry everything back to the car in your arms. It was one of those establishments that took the caps off of bottled drinks and opened cans before you were allowed to leave the counter which meant you had to be extra careful with how you balanced things so that nothing would spill. 

“You good?” Minho asked, watching you struggle with everything. “I’d help, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of not going to get the stuff in the first place.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. 

He didn’t look convinced but it wasn’t like he could do anything but watch so he didn’t comment further until you were seated again. 

“What’d you end up getting?”

“Well, popcorn.”

“It’s not a movie without it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed and handed him the bucket. “And I got us a water to share and some Nerds Ropes, I hope you like those.”

“Love em.”

“And then I got myself a High Noon and I got you a Heineken. I’m sorry, I blanked when she told me all of the types of beer they served and chose the first one I knew.”

“It’s okay! I told you I’m not picky. Heinekens are fine, babe, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Minho chuckled and took a sip from the bottle as if to prove to you that he liked them. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t they be? Do you have something against Heinekins?”

You made a face. “Bad memories.”

“Mm, I see. In that case, I won’t offer you any.”

“Thank you. Did you want to try some of my drink?”

“Sure, what’d you say it was?”

You passed it to him. “A High Noon. Have you never had one?”

“No, I don’t usually go for seltzers.” You watched him take a sip, laughing when he made a similar face to the one you had made just a few moments prior. “Oh god, the bubbles hurt.”

“How big of a sip did you take?!”

“A regular-sized sip! The carbonation is just a lot!”

“You’re so dramatic. Beer is also carbonated!”

“Not that carbonated!”

You rolled your eyes. “You just enjoy your drink and I’ll enjoy mine.”

“Gladly.”

Just then, the parking lot’s overhead lights dimmed. The projector flickered to life, casting the station to which to tune your car’s radio. Minho fidgeted with the dial until it was tuned to the right frequency. 

“Welcome to Aloha Drive-In’s adult-only feature film of the night! We have late-night showings for ages eighteen and up every weekday.”

“What makes it adults-only?” you asked aloud. “Is it actually a strip show or something?”

“They serve alcohol,” Minho explained. “Something with the licensing prevents them from offering it during regular showings.”

“Oh.”

“I can give one when we get back later, though.”

“Only if you sing the whole time.”

He grinned. “Name the song, I’ll do it.”

“Please stay in your car for the duration of the film unless you need the restroom or concessions. In case of emergency...”

You listened to the rest of the spiel in silence, snacking lightly on what you’d bought until the BigHit logo appeared on the screen. 

You had to admit that it was a pretty good concert, even though you didn’t have a lot of context as to what was going on. It seemed like there were a lot of inside jokes between the artists and the fans that you were missing because you weren’t a fan. 

Minho pointed himself out during each song, sometimes giving extra context to the performances, like how long rehearsals were for them or how they had to change the choreography because someone named J-hope didn’t like the way the formations looked. 

You realized this was the first time you were seeing Minho dance. And he was good. You knew he wasn’t the focal point of the concert but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He made all of the movements look so easy, so natural. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, gauging your reactions. You could tell he was pleased by how entranced you were and even though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ogling over him, it was impossible not to. 

You were surprised by how many of the songs were... sexy. The subtitles didn’t translate the lyrics, only the dialogue, but from the dance moves, you got the feeling that they weren’t all PG. 

“I thought you said this wasn’t a striptease,” you muttered, watching the dancers’ hips roll in time with the music.

Minho laughed. “We’re not stripping,” he insisted.

“You might as well be.”

“Just keep watching.”

You did, keeping your attention on on-screen Minho. The camera cut to him for a brief second as he had a moment with one of the members and you almost gasped out loud as he wrapped a hand around the older man’s neck. You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as the Minho on the screen squeezed Namjoon’s (?) throat. Minho’s gaze fell to your lap when he caught the movement of your legs. 

“Are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you lied. 

You were in fact, not cold at all. You were actually feeling a little warm. 

“Here,” Minho said, reaching behind him to grab something. It was a blanket, and he draped it over your legs. “Don’t worry, it’s not the same one from the beach.”

You nodded in appreciation, grateful that he had clarified that it was a clean blanket and not the one that had been laid down in the sand and had sex on top of from the night before. 

Minho kept a hand on your thigh even after he’d situated the blanket on your lap. 

“Warming you up,” he explained before you could ask.

You were a little suspicious of his true intentions but he wasn’t moving his hand and he had gone back to watching the movie so you let it go. 

The snacks you bought lasted you throughout the majority of the film. Once you’d finished them, you put the candy wrappers in the empty popcorn bowl and placed it on the floor of the car so that you could lean across the center console and rest your head on Minho’s shoulder. He met you halfway to make it less uncomfortable for you. It was a little awkward, trying to position yourselves in a way that felt natural.

Your suspicions about Minho’s hand were of course proved correct when you felt it begin to inch upward. Your thighs parted automatically for him before you could process what was happening. It was pathetic how responsive your body was to him. 

“I’ve been trying so hard not to stare at you all night,” he confessed. “Look so fucking pretty in this dress.”

“You should try harder,” you teased, reminding him of when you had to kick him under the table at dinner with his family.

“You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes,” he insisted.

“No, because I have self-control.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your panties.

You sucked in a breath, physically holding yourself back from arching into his touch. 

“This isn’t affecting you at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“What about this?”

You knew he could feel how wet you were getting. It was pointless to lie. But even as he pulled your underwear to the side and teased you by putting the tip of his middle finger inside of you, you wouldn’t admit it. 

“This is doing nothing for you?” Minho prodded, curling his finger in a little deeper. 

You gasped and gripped the car door handle, nervously checking your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being watched. Minho had parked in the back of the lot so there was no one behind you. Everyone else seemed zoned in on the concert playing like they were supposed to be.  

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you. 

“Feeling nothing,” you lied. 

Minho tongued his cheek in annoyance even though it was clear you were just fucking with him. 

“You’re such a brat.”

“You already knew that.”

He sighed. “That’s true.”

You were both quiet for a couple of beats, letting the screams of the crowd fill the silence. Minho’s finger was still halfway inside of you under the blanket and your dress and you had to try very hard not to think about it. 

Then, beside you, Minho laughed. 

“What?” you mumbled absentmindedly, forcing yourself to keep staring at the screen. 

“Watching me dance is making you clench around my finger.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you sunk down in your seat, which coincidentally pushed Minho’s finger deeper inside of you, making you whimper. 

“It’s not my fault!” you cried before he could say anything. “Obviously I’m going to be turned on by seeing you move like that!”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured you, voice full of amusement. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way. Quite flattered, actually.”

“You’re such a dick.” 

He leaned over to whisper in your ear even though you were sitting right next to each other and no one else could hear your conversation. “And I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty nice one too. What do you say we get out of here?”

-

You made it through most of the concert, you figured that might as well count as a whole date, right? It was the thought that counted. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way as Minho’s tongue traced the outline of your cunt. 

He was on his knees for you, holding you against the wall of his hotel room with your leg over his shoulder. You moaned softly and pulled at his hair, making him grunt into you. 

He paused for a second. You assumed it was to catch his breath but then he started talking. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t finish our date,” he murmured against your thigh, kissing it as further apology.

“No you’re not,” you laughed breathily. You knew there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now.

“I am,” he insisted, “I said I wanted to take you out on a real date, not just have sex, and I couldn’t even control myself for a few hours.”

“To be fair, we spent all day together,” you pointed out. 

“You know what I meant,” he sighed. 

“I know, and I believe you,” you said, ignoring Jisung’s words in the back of your mind. “It’s not like I didn’t want to do this too.” Minho pushed out his bottom lip, half pouting. “Do you want to stop?” you asked. 

“No, of course not,” he answered immediately. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going.”

Minho stood up and took your hand, pressing it against the bulge over his pants. “I don’t want to stop.”

You gulped. “Okay.”

He sank down to his knees again and lifted the skirt of your dress, motioning for you to hook your leg over his shoulder like you had earlier. You did, with a little noise of effort. You didn’t have the strength to stand on one foot for very long so you hoped Minho wouldn’t make you stay like that forever. 

“Good girl,” he praised, making your knees even weaker than they already were. “Fuck, you’re dripping. I’m sorry, baby.”

You didn’t realize he meant literally until you felt his tongue on the inside of your thigh. You shivered as he traveled higher and higher, collecting your arousal on his taste buds. He reached the apex of your thigh and moaned, sucking hard at the place just below your hip to punctuate the feat. 

“There we go. Wouldn’t want to make a mess on the hotel’s nice carpet, would we?” he asked breathlessly. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his excuse. “You can just say you’re addicted to my pussy, it’s okay.”

“Fine. I’m addicted to your pussy.”

His head disappeared beneath your dress for the third time, and he was back at it like he had to prove what he’d admitted to, something you both already knew to be true. You trembled, hands flying to the back of his head to push him further into you, and he mumbled something that sounded encouraging but was unintelligible. 

You yelped as he pushed his tongue inside you, legs shaking. He lifted one of his hands and waved it in front of you, offering it for you to hold so that you could stabilize yourself... somewhat. 

You took it and squeezed hard, earning another eager sound from Minho. Having his hand helped a little, but not enough to get you to relax enough to where you felt like you could cum without falling over and breaking something. 

“I think-” you started, voice shaking, “I think I’m going to fall if you keep going.”

He resurfaced, looking a mix of disheveled and feral. 

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“I’d rather sit on something else,” you quipped, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt. 

He moved easily, despite him being much stronger than you. He simply wasn’t resisting. You pushed him onto the bed with one hand and climbed on top of him with a smirk. You hadn’t forgotten that he said he would be a good boy for you when you were at the movies earlier and you wondered just how far he was willing to actually take that. 

You had dommed plenty of lovers in the past but you hadn’t tested those waters with Minho yet, although it seemed that he was more than willing to adapt to this change of pace. He was already gazing at you longingly with those big brown eyes of his, allowing you to pin him to the bed. 

Your theory was all the more confirmed when he started talking. 

“I didn’t make you cum yet, though,” Minho whined, suppressing a moan as you grinded against him. 

“You’ll make me cum with your dick,” you assured him. 

“I wanted to with my mouth!”

“You always want to with your mouth.”

“Yeah, because you taste so good when you cum,” he panted. 

“If you want it that bad, you can eat me out after you fuck me.”

“But-”

“What happened to being a good boy?”

He went quiet at that and you were afraid you had misread the situation entirely until he let out a quiet, “sorry.”

“What was that?” you asked. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I’ll be good for you.”

You smiled and began to unbutton his shirt.  “That’s what I like to hear.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!