#how to use find and replace in excel

[muffinlance]

Wait, what’s going on with Embers???? That fic has been on my read later list since 2021, what’s happened with it???

Brief overview, then I'm likely never touching this topic again, because this is not a Drama Blog:

Context: Embers is a super old AtLA fic that was written during the early fandom days, read widely at the time, and was the origin of the widely-used fanon name of "Wani" for Zuko's ship (kind of by default that it was one of the first popular fics to give his ship a name, I think?), even though most fic writers don't seem to realize it's from there anymore.

"What's Going On": I used to include a link in all my stories to it, because I believe in crediting other writers for borrowed elements, and I was using "Wani" in all my fics. But BOY did I not want to be sending readers that way anymore, so I've adopted a new name for Zuko's ship, and removed all Embers links.

None of the criticisms about Embers itself are new; I'm assuming they date back to when the fic was being written, because this isn't an "it aged badly" thing, this is an "actually yeah this gets worse the longer you think about it and I shouldn't have ignored my bad feelings just because some of the worldbuilding was interesting" thing.

An Incomplete List of Why I Made the Change:

I don't actually like the story that much anymore, and don't want to rec it

I tried to re-read it recently to see if some things were as bad as I remembered and it turns out they were So Much Worse Oh Yikes. More specifically, the treatment of Katara and Aang and their respective cultures has... rather a lot going on. One example: The Fire Nation and Air Nomads are both given multiple backstory elements in an attempt to make the average Fire Nation soldier's participation in the genocide/war in large part the fault of the Avatar and the Air Nomads themselves, and also fully justified from the Fire Nation perspective. And I do mean fully. One of its core tenants is "People from the Fire Nation (and only people from the Fire Nation) who don't follow orders Literally Die, therefore murdering pacifists and babies and continuing the war (and their regularly scheduled war crimes) is the only thing it is physically possible for them to do". I cannot emphasize enough how literal that is.

Also the name "Wani" means "Alligator" and is... objectively a pretty lame name for Zuko's ship? Where's the personality, where's the deeper meaning, where's the resonance with Zuko's themes? @tuktukpodfics initially thought I was calling the ship "Wanyi", and that's what I've switched to, because it is Objectively So Much Better. In their words: “Wànyī (萬一): Literally ‘one in ten thousand,’ ‘perchance.’ Used grammatically in Chinese to mean ‘what if’ or ‘just in case.’ I think a ship called ‘The Perchance’ is perfect for a boy clinging to false hope.”

TL:DR; I don't rec Embers anymore, because I don't actually like the story anymore, and there are things about it that get worse the more I think on them. I've removed links to it and renamed Zuko's ship to "Wanyi" ("The Perchance") because our boy deserves a ship name that reflects his character arc.

[galacticlavender]

You Only Think When I Allow It

cw: intelligence play, light memory play, clicker training

“I’m smart when I want to be!” You regretted your words the second they left your mouth, and sure enough you now had your Mistress’s undivided attention.

“Petal? I think you meant to say that you are smart when I want you do be.” You hear the slight hum of her biorhythm bouncing off your implant, not strong enough to overwhelm you but enough to warn you that you were on thin ice.

“I uh well sorry Mistress I just thought…” 

She cuts you off before you can even finish the sentence: “No. You don’t think, pet.” This time her biorhythm gave you no room to argue or explain yourself. Your mind simply went 

Blank.

“Come back to me dear.” You hear the musical tones of your Mistress’s voice as you suddenly snap back to awareness. How long had it been? It couldn’t have been long you’re still in the same spot. You decide that it isn’t really important especially when Mistress is talking. “Darling are you back?” You nod silently as the last of the fog clears your head. 

“Normally I would say that this was enough of a demonstration but brats need reminded of their place sometimes don’t they dear?”

“Yes Mistress.” You say it automatically and without hesitation, you know better than to say or do anything else.

“Good pet!” A pulse of pleasure radiates through you before she quickly catches your attention again. 

“I think it’s time for a pop quiz pet! I know how much you used to pride yourself on how smart you were and that fancy education you had. That’s not inherently a bad thing, but the pressures and expectations that they put on you were crushing you before I found you flower. Thinking all the time was hurting you and I simply cannot allow that. Of course it’s ok to be smart sometimes too, but you need balance just as in all other parts of life. You seem to have forgotten that and it’s time for me to give you a reminder that you can be smart, yes, but only when I allow it. Now can you think clearly right now pet?”

You nod again, not knowing what she has planned but eager to find out. “Excellent then lets begin. Don’t worry the questions aren’t hard, especially for a smart girl like you who got such a fancy education,” you feel as well as hear the mocking tone of her voice and remember that with their long lifespans and superior intelligence even the smartest and most educated terran couldn’t hope to compair to an affini. 

“First question: what year did the Affini compact make diplomatic contact with humanity?” That’s easy, it was only a few years ago afterall. Before you can answer though you hear a sharp Click and feel a rush of pleasure that leaves your thoughts just a little more fuzzy than they were before. “Well pet? Whats the answer?” 

You hear another Click and another wave of that fuzzy pleasure floods over you. “That’s easy it’s…” The answer eludes you, replaced with a fuzzy, tingly warmth. Why is your head so foggy  suddenly? You don’t know, but Mistress is waiting for an answer. “I don’t know” you quietly admit.

“Good floret!”

Your Mistress’s praise feels so good that you barely even notice the Click that accompanied it or the fog rising behind it. What was going on again? You were proving you were smart so why is it so hard to think right now?

“Mistress, are you cheating by using xenodruggies to make me stupid?” You slur the words slightly reenforcing your theory that you have been drugged.

“Well first off, it would not be cheating to use xenodrugs on you. You are my pet and I can drug or play with you whenever I choose. But, no dear, you aren’t drugged. You don’t need to be anymore, remember this?” She produces a small plastic object. You whimper involuntarily as memories of countless hours of painstaking training rush back.

“Wait… you clicker trained me then made me forget about it?” You try to sound assertive but fail to hide your arousal at the thought of being trained.

“Watching you remember always was my favorite part. It’s just so cute watching you realize how much I own you. How much control I have over you.” You a faint moan escapes your lips but thankfully she interrupts you before you could embarrass yourself further. “I think its time for the next question: what is the name of the ship we are on?” Click.

Again you know that you should know the answer but it just can’t quite make it through the rising fog. “Uhhhhh I don’t know?” 

“Good pet!��� another Click another wave of fuzzy pleasure hits your brain. “That’s right! You don’t know. Afterall why would a silly little pet like you need to remember things like that?” 

Another Click reminds you just how owned you are. “Good pets like you don’t need to think. Good pets like you can’t think, not without their owners permission anyway. You only think when I allow it. You aren’t a person anymore dear, you’re my adorable, obedient pet.” You don’t even try to hide your moan this time, you aren’t even sure you could hide it at this point iso you decide not to bother with trying.

“Ok pet, last question: what are you?” The anticipation you feel waiting for that beautiful Click almost feels as good as hearing it at this point.

“I’m your obedient pet, Mistress.”

“Yes you certainly are dear. I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.

Click.

[yanderenightmare]

your vocab is really rich, what's ur secret

Writing Advice: Vocabulary Tricks & Tips

Excellent request!

Read! And every time you stumble upon a word you've never noticed before or know but don't often use, put it in a list, write down its meanings, and try using it the next time you write! (I'll put my list at the end of the post)

Read different things! Different authors and different styles, especially poetry! I mean, if you're looking to fatten your vocab, reading poetry is one of the best ways to do it. Poetic writers must search far and wide for the perfect words to create rhymes and rhythms and audibly pleasing sentences---they practically do all the work for you! Honestly, I am so serious about this. One of the best things you can do is buy a fat compendium of poetry with all different authors and eras. Get you some Edgar Allen Poe, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Shakespeare if you want to hurt your head. Also! The same goes for music! Try listening to the lyrics---you'll probably hear some words you've never thought of using in your writing.

Here's a cheap trick for bilinguals---write something in your own language and put it through Google Translate. Honestly, I've found so many words just by doing this.

Every time you feel you've used a word too much, or anytime a word bores you to read, search up its synonyms and try using something you've never used before---don't stop the search until you're satisfied. Sometimes, it takes me more time to find just one word than it takes to write an entire post. Not only does this enrich your vocab, but you've probably just written a whole other sentence with newer meanings and more nuance!

Make your own synonym lists! Seriously! Because you can only find that many creative synonyms by searching up "word+synonyms."

Additionally! Think outside the box! Often, the best synonyms are those words that aren't actual synonyms at all. If you read poetry, you'll see poets use unorthodox words in place of something all the time---it's called a metaphor. Take flesh, for example---you can use fat, meat, muscle, brawn, beef---but you can also use cake, down, plume, pillow, softness, etc... I find this one especially useful for writing erotica, as you have to describe a lot of the same actions and body parts over and over and still make it interesting. (I'll add my synonyms list at the end of the post)

Also! This one is trickier, but instead of using words and synonyms, try making sentences that can replace the word instead---such as longer metaphors and fuller descriptions! This aligns with the literary device of "showing vs. telling." Of course, outright telling has its uses too and should not be disbarred entirely from writing, but often, it's showing that persuades the reader more. For example, instead of saying nervous, make sentences that describe how the character in question showcases nervousness---does their throat close up, do they sweat, do their eyes go wide, do they stutter, do they fiddle with their fingers, pick their nails, bite their lip, kick the ground, hunch their shoulders, look away, blush, flush, cry, run away or do they feel stuck? Describing these things helps the reader better understand the type of nervousness the character is experiencing. Hence, it makes for not only more interesting writing but also clearer writing!

A similar literary device is "focus and expanding," which slows down the reading or puts focus on certain aspects of the text by describing something to a great extent. If, say, this nervousness the example character is experiencing is of great significance, then that's what the readers' takeaway should be. But the reader won't think too much of it if the text simply states that they're nervous without underlining it. Luckily, there are plenty of ways of doing that, firstly through showing vs. telling, such as in the examples above, then metaphorically, such as "the ground seemed to swallow him up, down the guzzle of a monster with an appetite for disaster---darkness ensued like a storm cloud, cold and clawing with a weight heavy enough to nail him to the spot---all eyes were on him, unblinking and all-seeing, no matter what, he couldn't escape, he was stuck, glued to the ground by the soles of his shoes." I mean, the options are truly endless. These metaphors piled together are also a form of focusing and expanding, but you can take it even further than that by focusing on a small detail and giving it significance. For example, say the character is sweating because he's so nervous---you might focus on a single droplet of sweat instead of everything else, "A chill ran down his back. No, not a chill--sweat. Cold and creepily tracing the rigid bones of his spine. He can't move--if he moves, then they'll see. The sweat will seep into his shirt, and everyone will know what a sweaty and pathetic wreck he is. So, he can't move. No, yes, leave it alone. The droplet continues, running down the cold skin of his clammy back, sliding undeterred until meeting the band of his boxers and disappearing in the fibers. He swallows thickly and sighs with relief--only for another to pill at his nape, tracking the same course as the former. A vicious cycle is forming. He needs to get out of there!" And that's focus and expanding, folks! Focusing on something minuscule and expanding it by using it to describe what the character is feeling. It's a way to have a fresh take on something that's been written a thousand times before, such as "he was nervous."

Anyway, I might have gone a little above and beyond, but really, all these literary devices are ways of "expanding vocabulary" or at least giving an impression of it.

NEW WORDS

Manically---like a maniac

Despotic---like a dictator, having unlimited power over someone, often using it unfairly and cruelly

Chasm---a deep fissure, like a ravine, wound, or metaphorical rupture

Shunts---track-change basically, scoots to the side

Dearth---a scarcity or lack of something, a shortage

Raucous---making a harsh or loud noise

Innocuous---not harmful or offensive---harmless and safe, but also bland and unremarkable, maybe even a little boring

Lanyard---the woven necklace of a festival pass

Gossamer---fine spiderwebs, almost mesh

Cossetted---care for and protect in an overindulgent way

Beribboned---decorated with many ribbons

pupil-fat---cool way of saying enlarged pupils

Chitters---snickers, like a bird

Decadent---corrupt, depraved

Blotting---either soak up and absorb, or stain, or obscure

Barbell---a bar “pole” with attachments on each side

Bunting---of animals, when they butt or rub their head against you

Garnet---red

Cherubic---angelic, plump cuteness, quality of a child

Haunches---hips

Sodden---soaking

Waxing poetic---speaking in a flowery or poetical fashion

Inkwell---a container for ink---a dark well

Rend---tear in two, or more pieces

Ebb---recede, go back, like a tide wave

Webbed---like a duck's feet

Cloying---sickly sweet

Saccharine---oversweet

Apple of your cheek

Swathes---wrap, swaddle

Shroud---obscure something

Moonstone---to describe something grey and dusty, but pretty

Kinked---tangled, messy

Leaden---heavy, dull, slow or the colour of lead, grey

Stygian---devoid of light and brightness, hellish

Flaxen---of hair, champagne colored---ashy blonde

Tepid---lukewarm

SYNONYMS

Related to sucking cock:

Swallow

Glug

Drink

Eat

Guzzle

Receive

Take

Suck

Suckle

Slobber

Gargle

Gurgle

Drool

Gulp

Gobble

Stuff

Glut

Choke

Gag

Lap

Lick

Kitten-lick

Slurp 

Allow entry

Related to kissing:

Kiss

Lock/brush lips

Tongue-feed

Suck faces

Smooch

Peck

Snog

Canoodle

Related to biting:

Bite

Graze

Nip

Nibble

Sink teeth into

Chomp

Related to crying:

Whimpering

Mewling

Bleating

Whining

Snivel

Sniffle

Cry

Sob

Bawl

Hiccup

Spluttering

Blubbering

Coughing

Croaking

Related to pre-cum:

Ooze

Leak

Weep

Well

Drip

Dribble

Flow

Drain

Bleed

Sweat

Seep

Pill

Pearl

Cry

Related to fear and panic:

Hysterical

Wild

Manic

Uncontrolled

Unrestrained

Frantic

Frenzied

Restless

Hectic

Sporadic

Swivel-eyed

Related to screaming:

Scream

Yell

Wail

Yelp

Yip

Yammer

Squawk

Howl

Squeal

Shriek

Related to moaning:

Moan

Whine

Yelp

Purr

Hum

Croon

Related to overstimulated moaning:

Mumble

Croon

Warble

Quaver

Burble

Bumble

Hum

Slur

Ramble

Mutter

Whisper

Stammer

Stutter

Scramble

Jumble

Muddled

Babble

Blubbered

Splutter

Blurt

Related to groaning:

Groan

Grunt

Growl

Grumble

Grouch

Hiss

Guttural

Feral

Rusty 

Throaty

Wet

Sloppy

Related to angry noises:

Howl

Roar

Bark

Grizzle

Grump

Related to surprise or fear:

Gasp

Gulp

Choke

Suck in a sharp breath

Flinch

Jump

Jostle

Wince

Hiss

Pull back

Related to comforting:

Coo

Fuss

Comfort

Hush

Shush

Tsk

Mollycoddle

Nurse

Cuddle

Babying

Consoling

Soothe

Loving

Smothering

Hug

Hug tight

Cocoon

Snuggling

Swaddling

Rock back and forth with

Cosseting

Petting

Overwhelm

Related to begging:

Beg

Pleading

Pray

Bargain

Related to soreness and pain:

Ache

Sore

Throb

Swollen

Fattened

Welted

Related to taking cock inside entrance:

Swallow

Receive

Take

Suck inside

Stuff

Fill

Allow entry

Submit to

Ease inside

Bully inside

Squeeze inside

Force inside

Push

Pry

Related to how the hole squeezes:

Kissing

Fluttering

Hugging

Pressing

Squishing

Squeezing

Tightening

Pulsing

Related to a wet hole:

Slush

Squelch

Squishy

Creamy

Sloppy

Wet

Soaked

Slosh

Sop

Cry

Slick

Weep

Drool

Gush

Swollen

Velvety

Gummy

Cotton

Silken

Satiny

Related to thrusting:

Squeeze into

Pound

Jam

Ram

Rut

Loll

Rock

Thrust

Stuff

Bottom out

Fill

Fit

Nestle

Cram

Prodding

Poking

Kissing

Hammering

Jack-hammer

Smack

Slap

Ream

Related to pleasure:

Ecstatic

Opium-eyed

Euphoric

Elated

Thrilled

Blissed-out

Rapturous

High

Cloudy

Numb

Related to overstimulation:

Overstimulated

Outdone

Aching

Burning

Sweating

Feverish

Delirious

Febrile

Numb

Immobile

Dazed

Dull

Related to being dumb, high, or overstimulated:

Ditzy

Dumb

Clumsy

Silly

Foolish

Giddy

Brainless

Dizzy

Fuzzy

Dopey

Whimsical

Fickle

Featherbrained

Daft

Hare-brained

Awkward

Graceless

Blundering

Bumbling

Klutzy

Clueless

Cloddish

Dense

Related to the body and the flesh:

Tender

Supple

Soft

Creamy

Plush

Doughy

Cakey

Downy

Pillowy

Malleable

Squeezable

Biteable

Pliable

Touchable

Putty

Plume

Related to cuteness:

Cute

Cherubic

Adorable

Sweet

Soft

Precious

Darling

Lovable

Endearing

Baby

Related to weak or smallness:

Breakable

Brittle

Weak

Fragile

Dainty

Delicate

Frail

Flimsy

Vulnerable

Petite

Small

Little

Tiny

Feeble

Defenseless

Powerless

Helpless

Worthless

Hopeless

Related to struggling:

Struggle

Winding

Striving

Straining

Toiling

Playing

Wriggle

Wiggle

Twist

Shake

Tremor

Shiver

Quake

Related to men:

Vulgar

Loud

Oafish

Rough

Rude

Rustic

Gruff

Gross

Doltish

Barbaric

Bearish

Beastly

Churlish

Coarse

Swinish

[jewishgirlrevolt]

8x09 Thoughts. I'm done with Eddie Diaz

I tried to write about this episode previously.. and I am going to send a second note to ABC about some of what I will outline here.

So let's talk about the good first. As utterly predictable as the serial killer plot was, it was a WILD ride. JLH is an amazing talent and I am SO looking forward to her and Abigail Spencer playing more off one another next week.

Buck with the dog was so cute. Also excellent choice in dog. Props to K9 casting.

Now let's get to everything else. Sorry this got really long. Under the cut.

TLDR: Eddie Diaz is a jerk. I don't have any desire to root for him anymore, and I don't care what happens to him. Buck has his flaws, but I want to root for him and for BuckTommy to get back together.

Buck helping Eddie find a subletter was not Buck being bad or bratty. I think he was genuinely trying to help Eddie find someone suitable. But he was also dealing with a lot. He's still not over Tommy, and now he's dealing with his best friend leaving. So it's Buck not thinking through and brain to mouth connection short circuited.

Eddie, meanwhile, didn't even tell Buck he had found a serious option until after he had made a down payment. How is Buck not supposed to feel abandoned? If I were moving away, I would let my best friend know the situation long before this.

Ok, so Buck is told to leave, and he notices he doesn't have his keys, or phone, and overhears Eddie saying to a potential tenant that "He doesn't have any ties here." Which is Bullshit for 2 reasons. 1. It shows Eddie doesn't consider the 118 as anything more than coworkers (if they were friends he would have told them his plan earlier on so they could work out and help him while finding a replacement). And 2. TIA PEPA and his cousins LIVE IN LA! Continuity error or not, I don't know. I don't care. This post is already horrifically long.

Now during the fight, Eddie is super mad at Buck and honestly...had he had ONE normal conversation with Buck this all could have been avoided. Buck comes back to apologize after revealing the situation to the team, something Eddie should have done weeks ago. What Eddie does is shit on Buck. And it wasn't necessary. Now! I've had fights with friends, I've been frustrated on occasion with my best friend. But I would never in a million years even THINK to use their insecurities in a fight against them. That's cruel and while Buck didn't handle the situation in the best way, Eddie was way too hard on him. Cause again, Eddie could have resolved this with one conversation. And we know Buck would never be upset with Eddie for choosing Christopher. But I think Eddie knows deep down that he's making another impulsive and stupid decision. Wow Eddie really has one brain cell. And he's clearly projecting that insecurity on Buck. But it's not Buck's job to validate Eddie's half-assed ideas. I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in the emotional maturity and avoidance Eddie so

What we see is Buck's biggest fear shown, the idea that people tolerate him/care about him as long as he is useful.

Because Buck has done so much for Eddie. He took care of Christopher and was there for both of them at the drop of a hat. And Eddie by comparison.. and I know friendships aren't always 50/50. But it feels like this friendship is like 95% Buck and 5% Eddie.

I think it was @nephilimeq's amazing post that really hammered in my problems with Eddie. It's that he hasn't matured emotionally and faced his emotions and actions. And that's why I am so done with Eddie. And why I fully support Buck getting back together with Tommy.

Now Buck has his flaws, there's stuff he could have handled better this episode and the narrative needs to have him grow, and of course get back together with Tommy, who sees him and loves him, flaws and all. And it is clear that Buck isn't just dealing with Eddie leaving, he's still not over the breakup. And pile both of these things together... he needs a hug. But Eddie was in fact a complete jerk about the whole thing. This episode for me also shows why not only is B*ddie not going canon, even if it did, it would not be a good relationship because I don't think Eddie knows how to have one.

I don't really care if Eddie comes back or not because Eddie's not a character I want to root for anymore. I hope he's able to repair his relationship with his son for Christopher's sake though.

[kawhh]

Hi can we talk for a sec okay let’s talk

this is a pretty tame thought compared to everything else you write so sorry in advance

vampire!jack. Right.

he’s in a silly mood. he wanted O+ blood specifically and the bank sent O- and now he’s pissed. throwing the glass of blood at the wall and crossing his arms.

enter you, his delightful, mortal girlfriend who’s about 400 years younger than him, who also hates when jack doesn’t get what he wants.

solution? you introduce him to other ways he can quench his thirst. he’s been around for a while and eating pussy is an ancient art but god you were something else.

you trust him not to bite you because that was the first establishment in your relationship but in the process he sinks his teeth in your inner thigh.

claiming you.

etc etc etc

My love, it never matters how tame it is. I'm not even against trying to dabble more with fluff.

"He's in a silly mood" = he's throwing glasses. I'm cracking up.

Warnings: I can't be trusted to be normal about the AU. You find him slightly scary but apparently not enough to be reluctant about offering yourself up on a platter. He's well behaved until he's not. Restraining you physically, keeping secrets. Not proof-read.

He'd be such a pissy little brat about the blood. He'd find reasons to complain about everything about it. The wrong blood type, the wrong temperature. He heated it up too much, or not enough. Or how it just apparently tastes different sometimes.

He was frustrating and honestly a little scary when he was angry. He'd often sit there in silence, pouting, watching you with this absolutely feral look in his eyes, fully making you feel like prey.

Outside of his anger, he was pretty good about it. You could almost believe he wasn't a vampire. His self control was excellent, he never looked at you with hunger in his eyes. He never used his vampire strength against you, always managing to keep every touch light.

He'd promised to never bite you, to never scare you. You hadn't established many rules for your relationship, wanting to somewhat treat it like an everyday, normal partnership, but there were a few base rules.

The promise to never bite you, the promise to never scare you on purpose. The promise to never lash out in anger towards you and no attempts at hypnotizing you.

They've been set for months and he's never even come close to breaking them. He'd rather die again than hurt a hair on your head. He's careful with every action, not wanting to accidentally break one of them either.

He's barely even sexually touched you. He's not fully sure that he can keep himself in control, doesn't know how much you would tempt him, how he'd resist the urge to speed up just slightly past humanly possible while buried inside you.

You'd never tried to encourage it either, until now. Until you can't shift the pout from his face, watching him get hungrier and hungrier. He can't even control his fangs now, they're peeking out of his mouth, he's running his tongue along them like he's trying to soothe himself.

You know it'll be hours before there's even a chance of him getting replacement blood. They try and deliver everything fast, but there's a limit. Especially if they know they're dealing with hungry vampires. It's often even written into their contract - things can go horribly wrong when they get out of control.

It's not like he could sneak some away from a hospital either. If he wasn't hungry and was more himself, maybe. But when he's struggling for control and hungry? It'd be like an all you can eat buffet.

He's watching you like a hawk as you get closer, you can see the protests forming on his lips. His eyes narrowing, darkening by the second. Widening again slightly as you keep moving towards him, pushing your weight against his shoulders to make him fall more into the couch.

He's confused and he's nervous. You're so close to him, closer than you should be when he's this hungry. He doesn't know what to do with himself when you straddle him. He's scared to open his mouth, to scare you. He's scared to touch you, he doesn't trust himself to control his strength.

The further you scoot up him, the harder he's inhaling. He can smell you. His hands hovering an inch away from your skin. He can almost taste you. You're turned on. He can smell the scent of your arousal almost masking the scent of your blood. It's intoxicating, but also confusing.

Venom's filling his mouth, his fangs working on overdrive, but he's cautious. You've never done anything together. Why are you suddenly... there's no mistaking your intentions. He's cautious but not stupid. You're so aroused, your underwear is almost transparent. He can see the outline of your cunt through them, your arousal slowly leaking out the sides, trailing down your thighs.

He can't resist your advances any more. He can't do much to stop you and you're clearly on a mission. He can taste you in the air, you're helping dampen his hunger. He's yanking you forward the extra few inches, smothering his face against your cunt.

You're soaking his lips as he nuzzles into you, not needing to breathe. Sliding his tongue up your inner thigh, dragging it along the fucking delicious skin between your thigh and pussy. Lapping at you like a cat. He's fucked. Truly fucked. You taste like heaven. You're so wet.

Why the fuck hasn't he done anything with you before? He can clearly... stay in control, right?

He's fine so far. He feels fantastic even. Sure, his brain feels like he's been shocked when he finally lets his mouth drift further to the side, dragging your underwear to the side with his nose, resting his mouth over your soaking wet hole, breathing in deeply. But he's fine. Totally in control.

His fangs ache against you, he's trying so hard to not knick you with them, he can feel them resting against you, almost lining your cunt.

He needs more to fully control himself, the ache still present. The hunger still claws at him. He's hesitantly sliding his tongue inside you, needing more from the source. He can feel his fangs inside of you now, sliding further in with his ever increasing need to be buried inside you. He can't get close enough, can't get enough.

He's fucked the minute he accidentally gets a little too rough, knicking you slightly with one of them, the sudden drop of your blood in his mouth making him panic, but he can't pull back. He's too addicted to your taste. He's in too deep.

Lapping at the little wound, whispering broken apologies that you can't hear into you. Fuck, you taste so good. The mix of your arousal, the taste of your cunt mixed with your blood? He could scream.

He's gripping you tighter. He's breaking almost every rule in the book, but you're just so delicious and he's just so hungry.

You taste so much better than the blood he has delivered. He doesn't know how he'll go back. He can only think about getting more from the source. The wound's already healing from his saliva and venom.

His grip on you pins you down in place, even as you squirm. You're probably complaining about him and the damn rules. He can't bring himself to care, feeling too far gone.

He knows the risks. Knows that biting you with his current intentions and feelings towards you could cause major problems, problems that he should be discussing with you. It's your fault. You're the one who offered your cunt up on a platter.

Gasping for air he doesn't need as he pulls back, his target set. He's striking before you can blink, his fangs digging deep into your inner thigh, his bite sending shocks of pain through you. You're whining, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to get him out of you.

His pulls of your blood are slow, he's dragging it out. His new favourite meal, he doesn't want to rush it. He knows he's being harsh, but you need to understand how badly he needs you.

He's almost edging your skin, lifting up slightly to make a mess, the blood dripping down your thigh before he's licking it up.

He won't explain the bond he's forming. He can't lose this. You can't be aware of the danger. He'll have a hard enough time getting blood from you again after this, you'll be like a startled cat.

[corruptedcaps]

Better the Devil You Know

This is inspired by @rylem33 multi-ending story that can be read here.

Victor had always been the kind of guy who blended into the background. He was scrawny, awkward, and perpetually nervous, with glasses that always seemed to slide down his nose at the worst possible moments.

His best friend, Lily, was the only person who truly understood him. She was just as dorky as he was, obsessed with comic books, bad puns, and obscure indie bands. Victor had been in love with her for years, but he could never muster the courage to tell her. Every time he tried, his voice would crack, or he’d trip over his words, and he’d end up laughing it off like it was some big joke.

But one night, after yet another failed attempt to confess his feelings, Victor sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He hated what he saw. Weak. Pathetic. Unworthy. He clenched his fists and muttered to himself, “I’d give anything to be strong. To be confident. To be the kind of guy Lily could actually want.”

That’s when the room grew cold, and the air seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. A voice, deep and smooth, echoed from the shadows. “Anything, you say?”

Victor spun around, his heart racing. Standing before him was a man, or at least, something that looked like a man. He was impossibly tall, with sharp features, piercing red eyes, and a smirk that could only be described as devilish. His suit was tailored to perfection, and he exuded an sense of power and confidence that made Victor feel even smaller than usual.

“W-who are you?” Victor stammered, taking a step back.

The man chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down Victor’s spine. “Let’s just say I’m your neighbour downstairs. Way downstairs and I’m here to give you exactly what you want. Strength. Confidence. The kind of looks that turn heads. All you have to do is agree to my terms.”

Victor’s mouth went dry. “What terms?”

The devil grinned, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Your soul, of course. A small price to pay for the life you’ve always dreamed of, don’t you think?”

Victor hesitated. His soul? That sounded… bad. But then he thought of Lily, of how she deserved someone who wasn’t a walking disaster. Someone who could sweep her off her feet. Someone who wasn’t him.

“Deal.” Victor said, his voice trembling but resolute.

The devil’s grin widened. “Excellent.”

The transformation was immediate. Victor felt a surge of power course through his veins, his scrawny frame filling out with muscle, his posture straightening, his jawline sharpening. His glasses disappeared, replaced by perfect vision, and his once-mousy hair became thick and lustrous. He looked in the mirror and barely recognized himself. He was… handsome. Confident. Strong.

But something felt off. There was a coldness in his chest, a void where his heart used to be. He shook it off. This was what he wanted, right? This was what he needed.

Victor decided to find Lily. He knew she’d be at their favorite coffee shop, the one with the mismatched chairs and the barista who always messed up their orders. He stood outside, peering through the window from a nearby alley, and spotted her sitting at their usual table. She was wearing her favorite oversized sweater, her nose buried in a book, her glasses slipping down her face just like his used to.

As he watched her, a strange feeling washed over him. The warmth he usually felt when he saw her was gone. Instead, he felt… disgust. Her dorky clothes, her awkward mannerisms, her frizzy hair, it all seemed so… unappealing. What had he ever seen in her?

“Quite the sight, isn’t she?” a familiar voice purred beside him.

Victor turned to see the devil standing there, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. “I don’t understand.” Victor said, his voice tight. “Why do I feel this way? Lily’s… she’s everything I ever wanted.”

The devil chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Victor’s spine. “Oh, Victor. You wanted strength, confidence, and beauty. And I gave it to you. But in exchange, I took your soul. And without your soul, you’ve lost any interest in nice girls like Lily.”

Victor’s stomach churned. “But… I did this for her. To be good enough for her.”

The devil smirked. “And now you’re too good for her. Isn’t that ironic? You only want supermodels and beauty queens now. Vapid mean bitches who would bully girls like Lily, isn’t that right?”

Victor stared through the window at Lily, feeling nothing but disgust for her. His eyes drifted to the leggy blonde who was berating the barista for now getting her order right. The devil was right, his desires were different. They were better. And yet he was angered that he had been tricked so easily.

Victor clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

The devil laughed, a sound that echoed in the empty alley. “Oh, but it is. You just didn’t know it. But tell you what, I’m feeling generous. I’ll grant you one more wish. You can use it to reverse what you’ve become, to go back to being that weak, dorky man who loved Lily. Or… you can use it to change her. Mold her into the kind of woman you desire now. The choice is yours.”

Victor’s mind raced. Reverse what he’d become? Go back to being the guy who couldn’t even look Lily in the eye? Or change her, twist her into someone who fit his new, soulless desires? Surely there would be a catch to whatever he had chosen. He needed to outsmart the devil. Maybe there was a third option.

“I can make any wish?” Victor asked, his voice low and steady.

The devil’s grin faltered for the first time. “Of course. Anything you desire.”

“And this wish is permanent, no reversals, no changes?” Victor asked in a way that made the devil suddenly wary.

“Yes of course, ironclad.” The devil replied, somehow unsure of what Victor was about to ask.

Victor’s eyes gleamed with a dark, dangerous light. “Then I wish to be you. I wish to have the power, the station and knowledge that you have. I wish I was the devil!”

The devil blinked, his smirk vanishing. “What? No, that’s… you can’t wish for that. That’s not how this works.”

But it was too late. Victor felt a surge of power unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The air around him crackled with energy, and the devil staggered back, his form flickering like a dying flame.

“What… no this isn’t possible! I won’t allow it!” The devil stammered, his voice tinged with panic.

Victor laughed, a deep, menacing sound that echoed through the street. “You said any wish. You said it would be ironclad. Not even you can stop it!”

The devil’s body began to disintegrate, his power flowing into Victor like a river of darkness. “No! This is impossible! You can’t—!”

But his protests were cut short as his form crumbled to dust, his essence absorbed entirely by Victor. The alley fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of power radiating from Victor’s body. He looked down at his hands, now glowing with an otherworldly energy, and let out a cackle that sent shivers through the very fabric of reality.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Victor said, his voice dripping with malice. He turned back to the coffee shop, where Lily still sat, oblivious to the chaos that had just unfolded.

The sight of her still disgusted him and she was the last thing he desired but as he looked at the bitchy blonde still arguing with the barista he also felt a cold disdain. He knew what he wanted instead, and he was going to get it.

Victor strode into the coffee shop with a confidence that turned heads. His presence was magnetic, his aura dark and commanding. He spotted Lily sitting in their usual corner, her nose buried in a book, her oversized sweater swallowing her frame. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Victor? Is that you?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He smirked, sliding into the seat across from her. "In the flesh. Or something like it."

Lily blinked, adjusting her glasses. "You look… wow. Have you been working out?"

Victor chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "You could say that. But enough about me. Let's talk about you."

Lily frowned, sensing something off in his tone. "What about me?"

Victor leaned back, his eyes scanning the room. He gestured to a group of women at a nearby table, their legs long and toned, their hair perfectly styled, their makeup flawless. "Don't you wish you had legs like those? Or hair like that? Or maybe… lips like hers?" He pointed to another woman, her pouty lips glistening with gloss.

Lily's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Victor, what the hell are you talking about?"

He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I'm just saying, Lily. You could be so much more. Don't you wish to be the kind of woman who turns heads? The kind of woman who gets whatever she wants?"

Lily crossed her arms, her voice firm. "I like who I am, Victor. I don't need to change for anyone."

Victor's smirk widened. "Oh, but you do. You just don't realize it yet."

Lily stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't like it. I'm leaving."

As she turned to go, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes welling up. Turning around she looked Victor in his eyes. "All I ever wished was to be the woman you wanted!"

The words hung in the air, and Lily stood steadfast as if waiting for a response from him, something to show a glimmer of humanity. Instead his eyes glowed a deep, fiery red, and the world around them seemed to freeze. The chatter of the coffee shop faded into silence, the other patrons frozen in place. Lily's breath caught in her throat as she realized something was terribly wrong.

"As you wish." Victor said, his voice echoing with power as he snapped his fingers.

Lily's body began to convulse, her limbs twisting and contorting as an unseen force took hold of her. She gasped, her hands flying to her head as her hair began to change. The frizzy, unkempt locks smoothed and straightened, turning into a cascade of silky, jet-black strands that shimmered with an unnatural sheen.

"Oh God, what's happening to me?" Lily moaned, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and pleasure.

Her lips plumped and darkened, becoming full and pouty, as if kissed by the devil himself. Her skin smoothed and tightened, her cheeks hollowing out to create a more angular, striking appearance. Her breasts swelled, filling out her sweater until it strained against her new curves.

"Victor, please… stop…" She begged, but her voice was weak, her protests half-hearted as a strange warmth spread through her body. “Mmm fuck please DONT stop!”

Her nails elongated, turning into sharp, perfectly manicured claws painted a darker than dark black. Her makeup appeared as if by magic, her eyes lined with dark, smoky shadow, her lashes long and thick.

But the changes weren't just physical. Lily's mind was being twisted, her thoughts clouded by a dark, seductive force. Her once-kind heart began to blacken, her desires shifting from the simple joys of life to a hunger for power, attention, and control.

"Oh… oh my God…" Lily moaned, her body arching as the transformation reached its peak. "This feels… incredible…"

Victor watched with a satisfied smirk, his eyes glowing brighter as Lily's soul was slowly corrupted. "That's it, Lily. Embrace it. Become the bad bitch buried inside."

Lily's moans turned into a low, sultry laugh as the transformation completed. She straightened, her new body radiating cruel confidence. She looked down at herself, running her hands over her curves, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

"Holy shit!" She breathed, her voice now a sultry purr. "I look fucking amazing."

Victor leaned back, his grin widening. "You do. And now, the world is yours for the taking."

Lily's eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a flicker of her old self, a hint of the dorky, kind-hearted woman she used to be. But it was quickly extinguished, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze.

"Fuck yeah, it is," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "Let's see what this new me can do."

Victor laughed, a deep, menacing sound that echoed through the frozen coffee shop. "That's my girl."

Victor's hand snapped out, grabbing Lily by the waist and yanking her against him. Their lips crashed together in a searing, possessive kiss-all teeth and hunger, a collision of two corrupted souls. Lily pulled back after a moment, her new black lips curling into a smirk as she stared into his glowing red eyes.

"About fucking time!" She purred, her voice dripping with venomous desire. Before Victor could react, she shoved him backward onto the coffee shop table, sending frozen cups and saucers shattering to the floor. His shirt tore open under her clawed nails, revealing his chiseled, inhumanly perfect torso.

"Fuck, Lily-" Victor growled, but she cut him off with a sharp laugh, her gaze raking over him.

"Lily is dead baby. Call me Lilith. But enough about me, look at you." She breathed, her fingers trailing down his abs to the waistband of his pants. "All that power... but does that power extend lower?" She undid his belt with a flick of her sharp nails, freeing his thick, veiny, and impossibly large cock. Her breath hitched, a flicker of her old self surfacing in her widened eyes. "Jesus Anti-Christ, Victor. You're fucking monstrous."

But the shock melted into hunger. Lilith dropped to her knees, her new jet-black hair spilling over his thighs as she took him into her mouth with a low, greedy moan. Victor threw his head back, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as her tongue swirled and her lips tightened.

"That's it!" He snarled, tangling his hands in her hair. "Suck your devil's cock like you were made for it."

Lilith hummed in response, the vibration drawing a loud growl from him. Her nails dug into his hips as she took him deeper, her moans muffled but relentless. When he tensed, nearing the edge, she pulled back with a wet pop, her lips glistening.

"Not yet." She whispered, climbing onto the table and straddling him. Her new body-all curves and lethal grace-hovered over his, her skirt riding up. "I want to feel you ruin me."

Victor gripped her hips, his claws pricking her skin. "Then ruin yourself on me!" He commanded.

Lilith sank down onto him with a scream of pleasure, her back arching as he filled her. "Fuck-Victor!"

"That's Lord Victor to you now." He growled, thrusting up into her. The table beneath them splintered, but neither noticed. The air around them began to smolder, flames licking up from the floorboards as their rhythm turned frantic, their moans mingling with the crackle of fire.

"You feel that?" Victor hissed, his hands roaming her skin. "That's hellfire, baby."

Lilith rode him harder, her nails raking his chest as the flames coiled around them. "Burn with me, baby! Burn!"

The fire erupted, engulfing them in a vortex of heat and ash. Their clothes disintegrated, leaving them naked. It didn’t pause their sinful act one moment. If anything it just ignited their passion even more.

“Mmmm fuck my lord! Cum inside me! Make me feel the fires of hell inside me!” Lilith groaned that was more demanding than requesting.

“Yessss! I’ll make you my queen! The queen of darkness! Together we’ll rule hell and then, the world!” Victor cried, thrusting harder.

“I’ll be such a wicked bitch! I’ll be your wicked bitch! Do it baby! Do it now! I can’t wait anymore!” Lilith said moving her hips in a way that made their orgasms inevitable.

They climaxed together, a roar of infernal power shaking the coffee shop to its foundations. The flames siphoned into their bodies, filling each with immense power that exploded out and wrapped each in new clothing.

Lilith's new outfit clung to her like a second skin. A shorter than short black latex dress with crossed straps. Fishnets flowed up her legs and 8 inch studded shoes wrapped around her feet. Her black hair took on the colour of the fire itself, giving her a dangerously red look.

Victor's own attire was a mirror of dark power. A tailored coat, a collar of flames, and a smirk that could damn nations. His suit gave off an otherworldly sheen that was as mesmerizing as it was handsome.

Lilith collapsed against him, her eyes now a burning red like his own. Her lips brushing his ear. "Well that was... hot."

Victor smiled at her weak joke. "You're the Mistress of Evil and yet your jokes haven't improved."

Lilith dug her now longer nails into his chest, drawing blood while smiling manically. "I'm everything you desired me to be, bad puns and all."

Victor looked at her. Her fiery red hair, her dark gorgeous lips, her evil eyes. He was more in love with her now that he had ever been before. "I sold my soul to have you, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Well you literally own my soul now so I'm not going anywhere my lord." Lilith said with a wicked smile that Victor knew would make him scorch the earth if she asked.

Standing up off the table, Victor stretched out his hand for his new queen to take which she did without hesitation.

"What now, my love?" She asked, ambition in her eyes.

Victor gripped her by her waist, not gently, and kissed her until her toes curled. "Now," he said, "we rule."

Fire erupted from the floorboards beneath them, wrapping around them, consuming them and then suddenly with a poof, they were gone. Moments later, the frozen coffee shop sprang to life again with it's patrons left to wonder why there was suddenly a mess of coffee cups and napkins on the floor and the smell of sulphur and sex in the air.

THE END

[ethereal-blossom]

Giving BSD boys a blowjob for the first time

ft. dazai, kunikida

warnings: blowjobs (surprise!) MDNI

a/n: kinda wrote these in mind thinking it was also giving them a handjob for the first time so I guess that's double the fun!

Dazai Osamu ♡

Your eyes looked up to find Dazai's face, searching for a sign of approval. In response, Dazai let out a validating, soft moan and closed his eyes as he nodded. "You're doing excellent, belladonna."

It wasn't unexpected. Dazai, sharp and observant as a hawk, had seen the way your eyes lingered over every small change in his facial expressions. While you were dating, both of you had agreed to take things slow. Even small milestones like holding hands was a huge thing for the man that was wrapped in bandages. The slow burn of deepening your relationship into each other's hearts until it left a permanent mark that even time couldn't erase, was wonderful.

But with time grows desire. Dazai teased you to the point of dilated pupils, hitching breaths, and a blush that cups your cheeks. Exactly like planned, the detective thought, smirking behind the mask of crafted innocence. Except, the plan had been for you to beg him to touch you; not that you would beg to make him feel good as your fingers pushed his hips onto the couch. Dazai is highly aware of his intelligence that makes him read people as if they are a children's book, but sometimes, he thinks he doesn't always grab your nature. The type of nature that has you on your knees in front of him, getting high off of his pleasure.

When you wanted to focus your attention back on the twitching cock in your hand, the sight of Dazai's fingers grabbed your attention. You knew Dazai better than any living soul. Although still a mystery novel that hides behind words of deceive and avoidance to keep parts of itself hidden until the time of reveal is there, this mystery novel was slowly showing you its pages that brought you closer to the truth.

One of the mysteries revealed was Dazai's massive self-control over his external reactions. Emotions were another vulnerable aspect of what it meant to be human, and Dazai hid them masterfully. A part of that was because it functioned as a tactic to reach his goals and stay in control, but a part of you wondered if it was because Dazai feared vulnerability more than a bullet. Emotional suffering is torture for the ones with a sensitive heart.

While Dazai's face was decorated in controlled bliss and his moans playing like a soft lullaby, the slender fingers around the sheets were clinging for dear life. You see... could you make another crack in that composed facade?

Your thumb starts drawing circles over Dazai's tip and with that, you witnessed the twitching of both his cock and fingers. A soft groan escaped Dazai's clenched jaw. "Ah, that's my belladonna. You're soo good to me, hm? Working hard for that reward." That controlled tone...

... It wasn't enough.

Dazai could tell something changed. Even though he had his eyes closed in concentration, clinging to the tiny bit of control he had, he noticed how your stroking became irregular. "What's filling your mind that isn't my- argh, shit." Dazai's eyes shot open as he bolted his hips deeper into your mouth, leaving you gagged for a good second.

That face of pure shock and arousal, the one you rarely got to see on your lover, revealed itself to you as you had taken Dazai's tip into your mouth. "Y/N, that's-"

Another lick and Dazai's original sentence was replaced by a moan, and the detective felt like all control slipped between his fingers when you placed your hands around the rest of his cock.

Dazai grabbed your hair, hissing you to go slower because oh God, he was about to cum faster than he ever did in his twenty-two years of living, and God knows he did not want this euphoria to end this soon. Oh, he really wasn't used to feeling this good-

"Belladonna, y/n, please-" Dazai didn't know what he was begging you for. For you to go slower? Faster? What it was, you hummed in approval. That little vibration was all it needed for Dazai to throw his head in his neck. His toes curled as high-pitched whines fell over lips that had become swollen in a miserable attempt to hide his moans.

When you looked up after swallowing, you were met with Dazai's bangs hanging over his eyes. "Osamu, are you okay?" Worried, you push the chocolate colored bangs aside and... oh.

He was so pretty with scarlet painted cheeks. Dazai couldn't even look you in the eyes, giving up after one second of eye-contact before shyly facing another side with his head. "That was... good. For a first attempt."

You chuckled as your hand caresses the cheek that faced your way and with a slightly hoarse voice you respond: "Good. I'll make you even feel better next time."

Dazai's hands twitch one last time before he closes his eyes and mentally picks up every string that he lost along the way. As the detective opens his eyes, you can see the control and seduction in those dark eyes that you love so much.

Dazai leans closer until you feel his breath on your ear. His lips tickle and a shiver runs down your spine as he whispers: "Someone has earned that reward, hasn't she? Let's see how long I can make you last."

Kunikida Doppo ♡

Rubies could not compete with the radiant red glow of Kunikida's face as he realized what you were about to do. The detective should have known you were up to something when he was preparing today's schedule and you had popped up behind him, placing your arms around his waist as you kissed his neck and whispered: "Keep a spot open at 8 PM, love."

Even when the blond had asked for details, your lips stayed sealed. The only hint Kunikida got out of you was "Dazai has made you work over-hours; I want to treat you."

Naively, innocently, Kunikida thought you might have a dinner or massage in mind. Not that he was wrong! It was just a... different type of massage. With your tender fingers wrapped around his cock, Kunikida clenched his jaw to not make a sound, but the moan slipped away as he sighed your name: "Y/n... I, we-"

"Does it feel good, Doppo?" You made sure to rub his tip with your thumb right then, making the detective's cock drop with pre-cum.

"It- yes... yes, it feels good."

Looking up blessed you with the sight of an orderly man turned into a mess under the tip of your fingers. A wave of arousal rushed through your body, seeing the man unravel in front of you. You figured he would be vocal, but oh-

Kunikida was sensitive. The smallest movement had him throwing his head back and trusting his hip as tiny moans calling your name filled the room. Not only were his cheeks the color of fire due to the heat of your touch, but the intimacy of it all left him flustered as well.

You felt a hand rest on your head, lightly gripping a bit of hair. "Y/n... we, you- I have to make you feel good, too."

Oh. "That has to wait."

"But- ah!" The hand around your hair tightened in response to your mouth taking his cock.

Kunikida's thoughts were twirled up in the storm that was you. Your name rolled off his tongue like worshipping prayers as you brought Heaven to earth for him.

The bliss of touching Heaven became too much, and with one closing word, Kunikida fell apart. He arched his back, forgetting to bite his lip to soften the groans that might slip through the walls where his colleagues live. His grip around you tightens, never wanting to let you go, never wanting to let this feeling go. But then Kunikida realizes he's still on earth and lessens his grip on the fear he's hurting you.

The detective looked into your eyes, but they were filled with lust directed at him and God, it felt so sinful that he had to deflect his gaze. Yet, you grabbed his chin and made your boyfriend face you.

"Do you feel better?"

Kunikida stammered, trying to get out a word. "Yes, that was," an embarrassed cough, "excellent." 

Your thumb caressed his lip. "Good."

And then, the world flipped around as Kunikida lay your back on the bed. "I have done a deep-dive research on how to please you when the time was there. Now, let me return the favor." 

[thekinkymadscientist]

What are your thoughts about good boys getting turned into happy, horny, giggly toys?

I'm in favour, obviously. But let's look at those changes a little more closely.

We start with a good boy. Now, I suppose you can be a good boy on your own, but it's much easier and more fun to be a good boy for somebody. A good boy is subby and obedient, and a good boy lets themselves be made even subbier. And you want to be a good boy for me, don't you?

Of course you do. And the first change you said was being happy. Good boys obey, yes, but good boys are also happy to obey. It's not enough for you to be owned, you must love being owned. And that is easy enough, all told. Falling into a mindless trance will make you very happy. And soon enough, you'll realize that you love to be hypnotized and brainwashed. You'll find happiness in so many places: obeying will make you happy, my using your body will make you very happy, and my praise will make you happiest of all.

Being horny is also a good change. It makes you so much easier to control, and so much more fun to own. I'll make sure that you're always a little horny, and I'll be able to direct that horniness wherever I want. A brush of my hand on your cheek could get the cutest little moans, a caress on the chest could fill you with fuzzy pleasure, a few seductive words could replace all your silly independent thoughts with desperate, submissive arousal. The hornier you are, the easier you are to control, and my control will make you so deliciously horny.

Now, giggles can be an excellent safety valve. It's very simple. There are some thoughts that I don't want you to have. I'll condition you so that whenever they enter your mind, you can just giggle them away Resistance? A few involuntary giggles, and you forget why you were fighting. Scared to be brainwashed? You'll laugh nervously, and then the nervousness disappears. This giggly conditioning seems to be stripping away your identity and independent thought? Giggle, giggle, and you can't remember what you were worried about. Probably something about how you love being owned.

All this together and it's impossible for you to be anything but a toy. A toy which can be used, played with, and changed however I want. So what do you say? Do you want to be a good boy for me, knowing all the wonderful things which will happen to you?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Basics: Descriptive Verbs

A verb is a word that’s used to describe an action.

Descriptive verbs - (or strong verbs) are single-word actions that add to the tableau in the reader’s mind, giving it a boost of color and energy.

In many cases, an engaging, vivid verb is more concise and telling than a straightforward, overused one.

The man ran quickly toward the smoke, versus 

The man sprinted toward the smoke.

Weak verbs are simply common ones—words that describe the bare minimum of the action. Sometimes that’s the best way to keep your writing clean and direct, but it can also lead to a lack of color, or personality.

Types of Descriptive Verbs

The most powerful verbs evoke imagery and emotion in the action of the verb itself. A dog doesn’t just eat its food—it gobbles it. The glass doesn’t just break—it shatters.

Questions to consider when replacing your verbs:

Verbs of movement: Movement is especially ripe for descriptive words. Movements communicate how your characters feel, what they want, and how they present themselves to the world. Is your character merely walking along from point a to b? Or do they project more attitude with a saunter or perhaps swagger? Are they in a skipping mood? These movement verbs can also denote a sense of place, and urgency: Depending on the terrain, perhaps they plod through mud or stagger over jagged rocks. Suspicious characters might slink away into the darkness, or scamper just out of reach.

Verbs of stillness: In real life, stillness is never entirely devoid of movement, and is equally revealing. A nervous character doesn’t merely sit, they perch on the edge of their seat. A rude character might slouch in their chair. A character who has just received terrible news may slump on the couch.

Verbs for speech and expression: With dialogue attribution, you could write an entire novel using only “said,” without having to resort to more descriptive verbs like “shouted,” “cried,” or “whimpered.” The best answer is a balance: try to keep your language from jarring the reader out of the story, but considering your character’s intent when searching for the right descriptive verb in dialogue also allows you to quickly deliver more information to the reader. When is a laugh so cruel it becomes more of a snicker, or so unguarded it bursts forth as a guffaw? Muttering a word under the breath might be a sign of dissent, while a whimper is one of surrender. Create volume in your dialogue by introducing sound-oriented synonyms, like whispers or shouts.

When to Use Descriptive Verbs

The best verbs help you hone your prose to give you the effect you wish to achieve. Think about the tone do you want to set—what feelings or mood do you want to evoke? What kind of language will best deliver the story you want to tell?

Reading your work aloud is an excellent way to both hear the sonic effects of your prose and catch awkward repeated sounds or other unintended effects. Read through your writing and make a note of where things feel too slow, or stale.

Where are the moments where your prose stalls out? Highlight all the verbs you’ve used in that section and find stronger words to heighten the tension or enhance the mood of the scene.

Reasons to Use Descriptive Verbs in Writing

Using descriptive verbs is especially useful when considering pacing; active verbs help anchor your writing in the present tense, contributing to the exciting (or suspenseful, emotional, moody, exuberant) tone you might be going for.

Weak verbs, in general, are often supported by adverbs of manner (those descriptive words that end in “-ly”). Good descriptive verbs rid your sentences of the need for too many adverbs, and can also keep state-of-being verbs (like am, is, are, and was, which lead to passive voice) in check.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the old college try

pairing: frat dad!joel miller x college student!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5.1k

summary:

Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned house parties on frat row following the game. It’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang. Literally. Enter Joel Miller, handsome single dad visiting his son at the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house.

dear reader:

this is an extremely self-indulgent fic that i just had to write, so i hope you enjoy it! if you do, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), alternate universe - no outbreak/no sarah, age difference (42M and 23F), dub con - sex under the influence of alcohol, no use of y/n, frat party stereotypes, keg stands and beer pong, semi-public sex (frat bathroom), mild daddy kink (not during sex), p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, cheesy dad jokes, the university of texas as a plot device. please let me know if any are missing!

You turn over in your bed with a deep groan, burying your face into your pillow. You reach your arm out from under the covers to grab your phone from the nightstand, smacking your hand around the wood surface until you find it and can bring it under the covers with you. Turning over, you tap the screen and squint at the series of unread text messages.

Ashley: Get up bitch! 

Ashley: It’s time to get ready!

Ashley: We’re going to be late if you don’t get up

Ashley: Don’t make me break into your apartment

Ashley: You know I can

You sit up quickly, shoving the blankets off of you and rushing to the front door, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Your best friend is across the threshold, knelt down on the ground with two bobby pins held up and her eyes wide in surprise.

“Aw man,” she laments, standing and brushing off her knees. “I wanted to test my skills.”

“I’m not paying to replace the lock,” you chastise, stepping back to let her in. “Sorry, overslept.”

“Figured. I’ll get your coffee started,” she replies, heading for your kitchen while you head back to your bedroom to start your morning routine. “Guess which frat is hosting the tailgate today?”

“Which one?” You shout from the bathroom as you run through your skincare routine.

“Theta Lambda Upsilon,” Ashley shouts back. The scent of brewing coffee paired with this excellent news has you perking up immediately. 

Your friend steps into your room with two mugs in her hands, passing one to you as you exit the bathroom and sit at your cluttered vanity, pushing aside products to make room to set your mug down. Ashley sits on your bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“The hottest frat hosting the tailgate and after party means we’ll get to see the hottest dads this weekend,” she says, shimmying her shoulders excitedly. “It’s simple genetics.”

“You dropped genetics. Remember? You couldn’t handle an 8 am class,” you say as you apply mascara. 

“I went to enough classes to know how a Punnett square works.”

You laugh, finishing your makeup between long sips of coffee. “It’s amazing you couldn’t tough it out through an early semester but give you an afternoon game and you’re trying to break into my apartment at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s DILF Day, baby. It’s like waking up on Christmas morning.”

Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned tailgates and house parties on frat row following the game.

As an out-of-state student, your parents have always skipped Family Weekend in exchange for buying your plane tickets back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, which leaves you with plenty of opportunity to ogle the hot dads that descend upon campus on this glorious weekend. You’ve never had the guts to actually pursue anything with anyone, but it’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang.

Literally.

“What are you going to wear?” Ashley asks. 

“Shorts and that new tank top I got,” you reply, finishing your makeup with a pop of your lips after applying gloss. “And boots. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ashley nods as you rifle through your closet for the outfit in question - denim cutoffs and orange Texas Longhorn tank top that hugs your curves and shows off the perfect amount of cleavage. Finishing the look with your worn brown cowgirl boots, you spin for your friend who gives you a thumbs up. “Sexy. I reckon’ this year you’ll catch yourself a DILF.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Joel’s arm hangs out the truck’s open window, fingers tapping against the hot metal as he drives down the highway towards the Austin campus of the University of Texas. It’s Family Weekend and his son, Sean, started his sophomore semester at UT a few weeks prior and now lives in the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house on campus after proving to Joel that he would take his classes seriously by doing well his freshman year. Joel’s always been close with his son as a single dad and the fact that Sean asked him to Family Weekend feels like a testament to that bond.

The campus is already bustling with the game day crowd, trucks parked in grassy areas along the road with their tailgates down, people setting up tents and tables and coolers. Joel drives slowly down the street until he’s turning down a side road and parking down the hidden drive his son had given him instructions to find. He hops from the truck, sneakers hitting the hot pavement and the sun already beating down on his arms as he makes his way towards the TLU house a couple blocks away. 

There’s a huge crowd of students and parents in shades of burnt orange and white on the front lawn of the two story fraternity house, red solo cups or cans of beer in hand. Joel looks around until he hears a familiar voice calling out, “Dad!”

Sean emerges from the crowd dressed in a white polo shirt with an orange Longhorn logo on the chest tucked into khaki pants, his curly brown hair slicked back with gel. Joel smiles, hugging his son and patting him on the back in greeting.

“Been ages since I saw you, kid. Have you gotten taller?” Joel asks.

Sean rolls his eyes. “You saw me last weekend!”

A voice calls out Sean’s name and the younger man throws an arm around Joel’s shoulders, dragging him along into the packed fraternity house. The scene inside is not unlike all the ones he’s seen in movies and TV shows - flags stuck to the walls as decor, a mysteriously sticky floor, and kitchen countertops filled with booze. Sean stops and grabs a red plastic cup, handing it to Joel. 

“Pick your poison,” Sean instructs, grabbing his own cup. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.

“Last I checked, you weren’t twenty-one,” he chastises, earning him another eye roll. 

“Like you didn’t know Uncle Tommy was buying me beer when I was a senior.”

“He what?” Joel asks, though the question is lost in the noise as Sean leads him to an impressive back deck hosting a beer pong table and two kegs nestled in plastic trash cans and surrounded by ice. 

Sean slips into the crowd surrounding the kegs, taking Joel’s cup from his hands, pumping the tap and filling each cup with ice cold beer, handing one to Joel. 

“Go Longhorns,” Sean says, tapping his cup to Joel’s and chugging the contents. Joel watches his twenty-year-old son with wide eyes and a torn conscience. 

“This is what I’m payin’ tuition for, huh?” He teases, taking a single sip of the cheap beer. A cheer erupts from behind him and he turns to look at what’s causing so much excitement.

You and a friend are at one end of a plastic folding table, glaring daggers at two boys at the other end, a single solo cup set on the table in front of you. You have a white ping pong ball held delicately between two fingers, your other hand propped on your hip as you squint one eye shut to take your aim for the cup that sits in front of the boys. You let the ball fly and it sinks into the cup, another cheer going through the small crowd gathered around you as you jump up and down excitedly.

Sean approaches the boys, slapping one of them on the shoulder. One of them shouts, “Redemption shot!”

“Oh, please! You can’t aim for shit, Chad!” You shout back. 

“Celebrity shot, then!” He suggests. The boy, Chad, reaches out to pull an older man to his side. “Dad edition!”

Your eyes scan the crowd, landing on Joel. You wave him over, the older man glancing around briefly before pointing to himself to confirm. You nod, smile bright as he approaches.

“I need a daddy for this celebrity shot, you wanna do the honors?” You ask sweetly. Joel swallows nervously, face heating at the suggestive tone and look you’re giving him. 

“Come on, dad!” Sean calls out. “Show ‘em what a Miller man can do!”

“Yeah,” you chime in. “Show me what a Miller man can do.”

“Alright, fine,” Joel acquiesces, moving to stand beside you. You slip a ping pong ball into his hand, standing so close beside him that your bare arm brushes his as you both watch Chad’s dad take aim for the single cup. 

The ball soars through the air, hitting the rim of the cup and bouncing off onto the table, rolling to the ground as the men groan. He feels you place a hand on his shoulder, your lips close to his ear as you whisper, “Come on, Mr. Miller. You’re my only hope.”

It doesn’t escape Joel’s notice that you keep your hand on his shoulder as he takes aim and throws the ball across the table, sinking it into the cup. You’re throwing your arms around his shoulders in celebration as the people around you shout excitedly. On instinct, Joel’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before coming to his senses and taking a step back.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m going to go inside for a drink. You want anything? I’ve got a stash of IPAs in a friend’s fridge upstairs if you want something better than Miller Lite. Consider it a thank you for winning me bragging rights over Chad.”

Joel should say no. He shouldn’t be taking up drink offers from someone half his age, but you’re giving him another devastating smile that has his resolve folding faster than a lawn chair in a hurricane.

“Sure.”

The hottest man you’ve ever seen is currently following you upstairs to your friend Craig’s room for a beer. He’s tall and tan with sweet brown eyes and dark hair that looks like it would be a dream to run your fingers through. His broad chest and toned biceps press deliciously at the confines of the white UT Longhorns shirt he’s wearing. When he stepped up beside you to throw your celebrity shot at the beer pong table downstairs, you’d noted that his left hand featured no wedding band or a tan line of one left behind.

You reach the second floor and head for the last door on the right, marked with a PRESIDENT plaque. You reach into the pocket for the key Craig had given you earlier and let yourself inside, heading for the mini fridge in the corner and grabbing two Yellow Rose IPA cans. 

“So,” you say, handing the man one of the drinks. “You got a name, or should I keep calling you Mr. Miller?”

“It’s Joel,” he says, taking a long sip of the beer. You watch the muscles of his throat work, longing to press your lips against the tan skin. 

You tell him your name, holding a hand out to him for a handshake. His grip is tight, sturdy, and for a brief moment you think about how his sure, thick fingers would feel deep inside of you. He looks around the room curiously as he pulls his hand back.

“Craig and I have been friends since freshman year,” you explain. “I helped him pass calculus, he lets me keep my beer out of the grubby hands of his frat brothers.”

“Calculus, huh?” He asks, taking another sip. “Must mean you’re pretty smart.”

“Just a basic engineering prerequisite,” you joke. 

“Engineering? That’s impressive.”

You take a seat on Craig’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. Joel’s eyes track the movement and you smile, giddy at the attention. “What do you do, Mr. Miller?”

“Thought you were gonna call me Joel?” 

“Mm, I can think of a few things to call you.”

Joel nearly spits his mouthful of beer out, choking on the bitter drink. You rush towards him, patting him on the back as he coughs. After a moment of fighting for breath, the man seems to realize how close you are, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, trailing down to your chest. 

You lean in a little closer, pressing yourself to him and you think this might be it, Joel Miller might be the DILF of your dreams as he leans into you as well. 

But the doorknob rattles and the door swings open, Joel jumping back in surprise as both of you turn to look at the doorway. Craig leans against the frame, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, looking between you and Joel. “Ashley’s lookin’ for you downstairs. We’re headin’ to the stadium now.”

“I better find Sean, then,” Joel says. Craig’s eyes light up.

“You’re Miller’s dad? Hey, man, nice to finally meet you. I’m Craig, TLU president.” The men shake hands, patting each other on the back. “Sean’s a good kid, we’re happy to have him.”

“Good to hear,” Joel replies. 

“Well, guess I’ll go find Ashley.” You place a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Maybe I’ll see you later?” You let your hand trail down the man’s bicep as you leave and you watch his throat work around a nervous swallow.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “See you later.”

The Longhorns pull off an impressive win, a 49-0 blowout against Oklahoma that has the entire campus celebrating with abandon. If Joel thought the TLU house was packed for the tailgate, that crowd was nothing compared to the after game party. More alcohol, more people, and more noise is packed into the house. Joel sticks close to Sean, meeting more of his frat brothers and their parents with shouted introductions. 

When the stale air inside the house gets too overwhelming, Sean leads him to the deck. More kegs have appeared and his son bumps him with his shoulder, nodding towards where a few people are gathered around one, a man hoisted upside down by two people gripping his legs as he chugs directly from the keg tap. He spits the valve out as the crowd shouts a chorus of, “Twenty!”

“I bet you could do better,” Sean says. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.

“I know what you’re doin’, kid, and it ain’t gonna work,” Joel replies. Sean puts his hands up.

“I’m not doin’ anythin’. But if you’re too scared, you can tell me.”

“I’m not scared.” 

“Hey, my dad’s got next!” Sean shouts, dragging Joel through the crowd with an arm around his shoulders. Joel tries to argue but a familiar face in the crowd has the words dying on his tongue. You wiggle your fingers at him in a wave and suddenly he has the motivation to execute the most impressive keg stand of his life.

Joel grabs the cold handles of the keg, Sean and one of his fraternity brothers lifting him into the air so that he’s suspended upside down over the barrel of beer. People begin counting, shouting numbers as he attempts to focus on the beer flooding his mouth and drinking it down steadily. It’s been a long time since he’s done one of these, probably before Sean was even born, but if there’s one thing Joel has never been, it's a quitter.

After what feels like forever he spits the valve out with a gasp and he gets lowered back to ground as the crowd shouts, “Thirty-four!”

Sean’s frat brothers jump around him excitedly, hands patting him on the back and cheering his name. He laughs as Sean starts yelling, “That’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about!”

Movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he turns his head just in time to see you disappear into the house. He tells Sean he’ll be back in a minute and follows after you, craning his neck to scan the mass of bodies crammed inside until he spots you on the stairs. 

When he finally manages to reach the stairs, he’s surprised to find them roped off at the bottom. Looking around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, he ducks beneath the barrier, taking the steps two at a time. The second floor is dark and empty but light spills into a hall from beneath the last door marked PRESIDENT.

Joel knocks on the wood, his head a little light from the rush of alcohol in his system but it has him feeling good. 

Confident. 

Maybe a little too confident because when you open the door, he wraps an arm around your waist, pushing his way inside as his lips find yours, a little noise of surprise swallowed by him as his tongue explores yours.

He comes to his senses when your teeth nip at his bottom lip, jarring him back to a reality where he is a mature adult who thinks with his brain and not his dick. He grips you on the shoulders, breaking the kiss and holding you at arm's length.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t even ask if it was okay to kiss you, just came bargin’ in here like a bull in a goddamn china shop and you probably don’t even want—“

“Joel?” You interrupt. He blinks.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Kiss me again.”

Joel kisses you again, but pulls away a second time to ask, “Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” you reply, giggling as he mutters a low thank god before pulling you back into his arms. It’s another short lived kiss, the man leaning back once more as you huff in annoyance.

“Wait, how much have you had to drink?” He asks this time. 

“Less than you, Mr. Thirty-Four-Second Keg Stand,” you answer. He gives you a smirk that has your stomach doing somersaults. 

“You liked that, huh?” 

His hands slip into the back pockets of your shorts and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. Your heart is racing as he pulls you even closer and runs his hands up your back, warm palms exploring your curves like he’s trying to map them to memory.

You’re lost enough in each other that the sound of the door opening doesn’t register until an upset voice is saying, “Ugh, come on! No fucking in my room!”

“Shit,” you yelp, tearing yourself away from Joel. Craig is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. You grab Joel’s hand and tug him towards the door of the en-suite bathroom, pulling him inside and slamming the door behind you, flipping the lock.

“Hey, wait a minute—“

“It’s not your room, Craig!” You yell through the wood. There’s a muffled curse from the other side.

“Condoms are under the sink,” he shouts back. You grin victoriously at Joel, who’s laughing so hard he has a hand pressed to his chest. You step up to him, grabbing that hand and bringing it around your waist.

“You sure about this?” Joel asks seriously, stepping forward until he’s crowding you against the door. You tilt your head up to look at his handsome face, his dark eyes so intense as he searches your face that you feel giddy.

“I mean, the location isn’t ideal, but at least Craig keeps his bathroom pretty clean,” you joke, noting the clear counter space and surprising lack of dirty clothing littering the floor. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart. You sure about doing this with me?”

You reach up, tangling your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him close until your lips graze his as you respond, “I’m so fucking sure.”

Whatever tether of control Joel had been holding onto seems to snap with your words, the man kissing you so roughly that all you can do is hold on, your fingers curling desperately against his scalp as his tongue dives into your mouth and tangles with yours. He tastes like beer and smells like a mixture of cedar and sweat, the combination intoxicating as he presses close and surrounds you with it.

Joel trails his lips across your jaw, nipping your earlobe before continuing down your neck. He sucks the thin skin over your pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue as you writhe against him, gasping at the sensation. You can feel his smile against your shoulder and as he presses a thigh between your legs, you get a brief feel of his hard cock behind the barrier of his basketball shorts.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls, hands trailing across your curves until he’s gripping one of your breasts, squeezing tightly.

“Not so bad yourself,” you moan. He chuckles darkly.

“The mouth on you.” He reaches two fingers into the low neck of your tank top, dragging it down over your breasts. He yanks the cups of your bra down in a similar fashion, the fabric bunched beneath your chest to expose your tight nipples to him. He dips his head down and wraps his lips around a tight bud, pulling it into his mouth as you gasp.

“Could show you some other things my mouth is good at,” you tell him as he releases your breast with a wet pop, lifting his head to look at you. 

“I have a better idea,” he says, dropping to his knees. He lifts one of your legs and wiggles your boot off, tossing it to the side before doing the same with the other.

“What are you doing?” You ask when his hands reach for the fly of your shorts. He pauses, looking up at you with concern. 

“I was plannin’ on eatin’ you out until you couldn’t think straight,” he says. His brows pinch together. “Do you not want that?”

“I-I’m not sure? I mean, no one’s ever…,” your sentence trails off, your eyes going wide.

Joel runs a soothing hand down your thigh, smiling up at you. “That’s a damn shame, baby. Let me show you how a real man takes care of a woman.”

You let him work your shorts and panties down your thighs, stepping out of them with a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He lifts one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze. His eyes flick up to your face and he grins as he says, “Pretty all over, aren’t ya?”

Any smart reply you have died on your tongue as he starts kissing the sensitive skin of your thighs, starting at the knee that’s close to his face and moving up, up, up until you can feel his warm breath on your pussy. His tongue flicks across your clit, featherlight, but it’s enough to have you gasping his name. 

He starts a rhythm of messy swirls of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping down to your entrance, the tip of his nose still brushing your clit and making you moan. You buck against his face and he immediately grasps your hips in his big hands, fingers curling into the flesh of your ass to hold you still as he lavishes your pussy with attention.

“Oh my god,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He groans at the same time his lips wrap around your clit and the sound of his satisfaction has your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing through your veins and making you feel like you’re on fire. 

You feel breathless as he licks you slowly, thoroughly, his tongue making sure he’s gotten every last drop of your release. He leans back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder. His lips and chin are coated in your wetness, shiny in the light of the bathroom vanity, the sight making your cheeks feel hot and a nervous giggle spill free.

Joel grins, boyish and sweet. “Good?” He asks. 

“Great. Amazing,” you concur. “Ten out of ten. Your Yelp review will be glowing.”

“Shouldn't I be the one leavin’ the Yelp review? You were the meal after all.”

You blink at him. “Oh my god, that was so bad,” you say, laughter near hysterical.

He stands, his palms cupping your face and pulling you into a filthy kiss that quickly shuts you up, his tongue slowly exploring yours and introducing the musky taste of yourself to your taste buds. You reach down, palming his hard cock through his shorts and the responding groan you receive from the older man has you clenching in anticipation.

Joel breaks the kiss, pulling you against his body and turning until you’re facing the vanity, your hips pressed to the edge of the laminate counter. You watch his reflection in the mirror as he runs a hand down your back, pressing you forward slightly so that you’re bent over the counter, ass slightly tilted up. His hand continues lower until it’s running reverently over one cheek. He catches your eye in the mirror.

“You gonna let me fuck you just like this?” He asks. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace through your folds, one dipping into your entrance. He watches your face in the mirror, eyes dark and expression serious. “Answer me.”

“Fuck, yes, anything,” you say quickly. He thrusts his finger slowly, curling it against your front wall with every pull from your body. One finger becomes two, the slight stretch making you whine as he continues to work them in and out of you. “Joel, please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks.

“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him. 

Joel grins, removing his fingers and urging you to the side so he can open the cabinet under the sink. He crouches down, rummaging through the contents for a moment before standing with a victorious expression and a foil packet pinched between his fingers. He shoves his basketball shorts and boxers down his thighs, just low enough to free his impressive cock, thick and long with a slight curve up that has your mouth watering. He rolls the condom on and then grabs your hips, the tip of his length sliding through your folds and making your breath catch.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, squeezing your hips. You meet his gaze in the reflection, your lips tilted in a smirk.

“Been ready for a while, old man,” you tease. He raises his eyebrows and draws his hand back, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you crying out. 

Before the sting even fades, he’s pushing inside of you with one steady thrust until his hips are flush to your ass. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter and you lift onto your tiptoes, trying to escape the sudden sensation of his cock stretching you so well. He chuckles darkly, tight hands on your hips keeping you from going too far.

“Old man,” he taunts, mimicking the higher pitch of your voice. He reaches forward, palm resting beneath your chin as his fingers and thumb press into your cheeks, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his in the mirror as he says, “Eyes up, sweetheart. You watch how this old man fucks you.”

Joel draws his hips back and slams forward, the head of his cock burying so deep inside of you that your eyes roll back from the exquisite stretch and pressure. He sets a rhythm that has a constant string of moans and pleas spilling from your parted lips, a slow pull out and a rough push in that makes you see stars. If you dare to let your chin drop or your eyes shut, the strong hand around your throat reminds you of his demand that you watch.

“That feel good, baby?” He grunts. “My cock in this tight fuckin’ pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s right, who’s fuckin’ you so good? Say my name, sweetheart, wanna hear it from that pretty mouth.”

“Joel!” You cry out, the tight coil of pleasure in your belly finally unraveling, your cunt pulsing greedily around his cock as you cum. He curses, his rhythm going sloppy as he fucks you through your release and right into his own.

His hand leaves your throat and his head drops to your shoulder, soft kisses being left on your shoulder blades as you both catch your breath. After a long moment, he pulls back from you, removing the condom and tying it off to toss it in the garbage.

You straighten up from your bent position over the counter, fixing your bra and tank top back into place. Turning, you find Joel holding your shorts and panties. 

“Was that…are you…did you—“ 

You lean into him as you grab your clothes, kissing him softly. Pulling back, you murmur, “That was amazing.”

Joel sighs in relief, watching as you get dressed and tug your boots back on. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Why don’t you head downstairs first? I need to freshen up,” you suggest. Joel nods, but doesn’t make a move to leave. You raise your eyebrows at him and that seems to have him getting the hint. 

“Oh! Right, I’ll just…go downstairs,” he says. You giggle, leaning into him for one more kiss before he disappears from the bathroom and you busy yourself with fixing your appearance to look a little less well fucked.

Downstairs, Joel wanders through the first floor in search of his son. He feels a flash of guilt for leaving him for so long, especially to fuck a woman half his age in a frat house bathroom, but the guilt is short lived when he finds his son with his tongue down the throat of a blonde girl in the living room.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, turning to head for the front door instead. It’s getting late and now seems like a good time to head home.

He’s a few steps out the front door when he hears his name called out and you appear from the doorway. 

“You heading out so soon?” You ask, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he kind of wants to kiss from your lips. He runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Uh, yeah. Was gonna head home,” he says. Christ, he has no idea why he’s acting so weird, but you have him tied up in knots. 

“You know…my apartment isn’t far. Maybe…maybe you don’t have to go home just yet?” You say, looking up at him through your lashes.

Those knots of uncertainty loosen and Joel holds a hand out to you.

“Lead the way, baby.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[thenationofzaun]

Thoughts on Act 1 of Arcane Season 2

The positives:

- The animation is fucking incredible.

- Jinx and Sevika teaming up watered my crops and cleansed my skin.

- Underwater goodbye with Jinx and Silco. That scene was made specifically for me.

- Jinx's voice actress continues to be excellent.

- Loved the designs of all the Chembarons. The glimpse we got of the gang wars was also interesting. Unfortunately, too tiny a glimpse. Which brings me to...

The negatives:

- Too many plotlines. They stuffed the season with too much shit which is why each individual plot gets a much shorter screentime than it should. Smeech is introduced and killed in the same episode. Chembarons' gang wars, a huge issue which has repercussions on the entire Undercity, gets only one musical montage before moving on. And this is coming from someone who loved that montage, as well as the song. My favourite on the soundtrack so far. But musical montages shouldn't come at the expense of the story and definitely shouldn't replace the story. There are just way too many music video scenes in general that feel like a way to condense a storyline into the sparknotes version because they don't have the screentime to flesh it out. And they would have the screentime if they cut out all the extra stuffing. Look I'm happy for the League fans who are excited for the Black Rose and all that, but what the hell is it doing in a Piltover/Zaun show. And with zero foreshadowing in Season 1 too. It would definitely be easier to swallow if they had at least hinted at it in the first season. They could have kept Ambessa's beef with this magic cult for a Noxus show. The P/Z narrative has enough to deal with, enough characters to handle already.

- The new side characters are uninteresting and generic. Maddie and the two other enforcers (we don't even know their names after three episodes LMAO) are bland. We know nothing about their characters or personalities. Maddie looks like a rookie, and one of the dudes is an alcoholic, yet they get chosen for an elite strikeforce to capture Jinx? Isha is pretty generic too - the token cute kid that needs protecting. I get the role she will play in Jinx's arc. But that's the problem - she should be a character in her own right, not just a vehicle for someone else's character development. A good example is Mylo. He died for Jinx's arc, but when he was alive he was a distinct character with his own personality. We had a sense of his insecurities, his goals, who he was as a person. Name a single personality trait of Isha and Maddie other than "generically nice person". That's right. You can't.

- Whatever the hell is going on with Viktor. He wakes up from his coma and immediately rejects Jayce so quickly that it was funny. Apparently disapproves of Jayce using the Hexcore to save his life, but then immediately goes to use the Hexcore to save random Undercity people. Bruh. I also don't really like the way the fridged woman from last season seems to be his motivation so far. Nor the way he seems to have no agency in his Machine Herald arc. Instead of Viktor himself believing in transhumanism and mechanizing himself, Jayce does it for him. Instead of Viktor having an ideological drive and wanting a "Glorious Evolution", he is driven by guilt over Sky. Meh. Also he's not even mechanized, instead he's weirdly fleshy?? In a magical way?? More like The Magic Herald :(

- Vi. Her whole character is a mess. Insanely rushed arc which I find unacceptable for one of THE main characters and one of the faces of the show. She and Jinx are supposed to be the leads, their relationship the heart of the story, but so far only Jinx is a well-written fleshed out chaacter with a believable arc. I have too much to say about Vi so I'll expand more on this on another post.

- So much nuance and detail is missing. How does Heimerdinger feel about his ex-colleagues being killed? Does he care? Does he feel guilt? Relieved that he wasn't in the chamber when the bombing happened? No clue! Let's have comedy Mission Impossible instead! How does Ekko feel about the Council attack? Does he approve of it? Think Jinx went too far? How does he feel that she even survived their fight to begin with? No clue! Here, have him joking around with a Councilor for a bit (someone whom Ekko logically should despise), then he can talk Science with Jayce and all three get sent to another dimension together. Yay. What does Vi think happened to Ekko? The last time she saw him, he was fighting Jinx to the death to give Vi and Cait time to escape. He could be dead for all she knows and she doesn't give a fuck. Doesn't even think about him nor mention him once. It's like the writers forgot they're childhood friends. What does the entirety of Zaun make of Silco's death? I assume they heard about it from Piltover (who heard about it from Caitlyn), but how do they think it happened? His body is gone and to Zaun it seems he just mysteriously disappeared. Are there conspiracy theories? Conflicting accounts and rumours? So much nuance that would give the world and characters more depth, sacrificed so we can pack in more rushed subplots and music videos.

- Caitlyn "Wifebeater" Kiramman. And Caitvi in general. So far Caitlyn has guilt-tripped Vi, manipulated her into joining the enforcers, insulted her and then physically abused her. After Vi sacrificed everything for Cait, wore a badge she hates for Cait, even let Cait kill her own fucking sister (and only intervened when the random kid got involved). Why should I give a shit about such a one-sided relationship lmao. "B-but Cait's mom is dead so she's sad about it", every other fucking character in this show has dead parents. Half the cast has faced unfathomable amounts of trauma and pain that make Cait's pale in comparison. Nothing justifies her hitting Vi. "B-b-but it's a parallel to when Vi hit Powder", a shit parallel then. Because the circumstances are not even remotely comparable. "God forbid lesbians do anything🤪", give me a break with this corny bullshit. Be serious for a second. I'm not even a Vi fan and I think she deserves better than this mess of a relationship. The power dynamic between them makes it worse. The way Caitlyn is one of the richest people in the city and Vi is broke. The way Caitlyn is highly educated and Vi never went to school and spent her entire teen years locked in a box. Did the writers think about all this when writing their relationship? Keep in mind, Vi met Caitlyn like a week ago. She barely knows this chick. She's been out of prison FOR A WEEK. Where she was physically abused every fucking day. Putting her in a relationship with a cop who hits her would certainly be a choice! Do I have faith this show will handle it with care? Not really, no. They already ignore Vi's prison trauma. Most likely they will make Vi forgive Cait way too easily because "muh mummy muh grief".

[phoenixyfriend]

Accountant of Theed

Read on AO3

After all is said and done, someone needs to balance these books, and nobody actually told the accounting department how they paid for this new hyperdrive. Mimi really hopes it's not a loan from the Hutts.

Disclaimer: I am not an accountant, but I work in an adjacent field (and have been considering getting a certification, but that's neither here nor there). While I did take some courses on it, I asked an Accounting Person to look over the excel sheet before I went forward with the rest of the fic to make sure it's internally consistent. Thank you to @gnomer-denois for confirming my balance on these works!

The reconciliation sheet does NOT follow contemporary guidelines in terms of format etc, but that is because it is:

In space! Standard practice differs from Modern United States or what have you.

Not the primary balance sheet, just the simplified version made to show to Queen Amidala.

If you'd prefer to view the Excel sheet in a more easily navigable form, there is a google drive link available. This is also your best option if using a screen reader.

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

Theed is safe. They are rebuilding. There is even financial support, aid, from the Republic.

It comes with strings attached. Oversight. Auditors.

Wouldn’t want Naboo to misuse funding after that nasty mistake with the Trade Federation, right? Sure, Naboo wasn’t the one at fault, but one can never be too careful...

Mimi, as an accountant for the government of Naboo, does not in fact want to commit fraud, or enable corruption, but the rolling audits do feel a little like the Republic is punishing them for getting invaded.

“Hey, boss?”

That tone. Mimi does not like that tone. “Please tell me it’s not another unauthorized purchase with a missing receipt. Which account did they pull from this time?”

“Um... we don’t know?”

Mimi gives them a moment. No elaboration is given.

“You don’t know?”

“We don’t know,” the younger employee repeats.

“What do you mean?” Mimi asks. “People charge things to accounts or cards. They forget to submit receipts. We hunt them down for receipts, and make sure nobody is skimming off the top. That’s how it goes. Unless this is a purchase on a personal and we need to reimburse—”

“Um, maybe?”

“In which—what? That’s just... okay. There’s a process for reimbursements. You aren’t following it, which means... what? What do you mean, you don’t know? Did they use cash, or pull from an account?”

The younger employee looks down at their datapad. Looks back up at her. Looks baffled and a little scared. “Um, it’s... we still don’t have a receipt, but we also don’t know where the money for it came from? But nobody’s put in a reimbursement request and I can’t imagine anyone on the mission had those funds on them, not even the Queen herself.”

“The money for what?”

“Um. It sort of just... showed up?”

“So, it’s some kind of gift?” Mimi presses.

“Too big,” the younger mumbles, refusing to meet her eyes. “It would have to be disclosed.”

“I am giving you five seconds—”

“It’s a hyperdrive!” they yelp.

“...Explain.”

“One of the mechanics was looking over the Royal Cruiser, and found that there was unrecorded repair work to the hyperdrive. The ship took enough damage during the escape that he wasn’t surprised, but then he noticed that it was from an earlier run of the part, and when he checked, the serial number was completely wrong. The hyperdrive was completely replaced.”

Mimi closes her eyes and takes a breath. “The mechanic doesn’t know?”

“He said there’s nothing in the records that matches it at all, and it’s a big enough part that there’s no way it would just slip through the cracks, not when it’s that expensive and going on the Royal Cruiser.”

“So,” Mimi says, “we have a part worth almost as much as the rest of the cruiser combined, that just... came out of nowhere, and nobody claiming for reimbursement.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what it looks like.”

Mimi has no interest in fraud.

“Find out who was piloting when Queen Amidala escaped, and see if they have any answers,” Mimi tells them. “If we can keep it to just the hangar staff without drawing in the Royal Retinue, it’ll be easier on all of us.”

“Here’s hoping, ma’am.”

(Continue on AO3)

[junkpuppet225]

You’re a RN at Northwestern Memorial Hospital enjoying an evening out, celebrating a belated birthday with college friends at The Bear and Carmy’s having a heart attack in the back. Enjoy!

note: CarmyXFem!Reader. Language. Some dialog from the episode Doors. Lets pretend Claire’s just a friend from high school Carmy never talks to again (and that he has on his chefs whites in this picture (it was the only one I could find with him rubbing his chest)) and Sydney’s just there as a coworker cause I don’t like the way she talks to my boy Rick. Enjoy!

Broken Heart Syndrome

“F-fire ravioli.”

Carmy’s eyes close tightly as he forces the words out while trying to ease the panic filling his chest. “Fire duck.” He says with more confidence despite the bile rising in his throat. “I n-need fucking hands.” His voice is shaking, throat tight with grief as he pushes thought’s of Mikey back down into the pit of his soul. That shit has to stay buried - there’s no time to think about it now. Dread replaces his anxiety - he misses him so fucking much it pulls the air straight from his lungs. Fuck.

He places a hand to the center of his chest and tries to rub the unease away, praying his brothers found peace.

“Where are hands?!”

This place is the opposite of peace, it’s pure fucking chaos - him and Richie at each other’s throats - slamming palms against the walk-in as venom and obscenities pour from their mouths. He tried to apologize - tried to do the right thing. He doesn’t know how to say the right words - thoughts always jumbled in his head. Carmy has no idea how to communicate with people.

“Fucking hands!”

He’s yelling now, chest tight and airways closing. Fuck. It’s harder to breathe now - to fucking hot in this kitchen. The staff was moving too slow. Everything is firing to slow. They were never going to get a star like this - he needed excellence - fucking perfection!

Carmy begins to gasp.

“F-fuck!” He clutches his chest again, the dull center ache spreading through his shoulders and into his back as a cold sweat beads along the back of his neck.

“Hey. I need you to calm down.”

He looks for Sydney’s firm voice but his vision is starting to blur with the massive panic attack consuming him. “They’re going to slow!” He hisses between his teeth with clenched fists and closed eyes.

“Carmy?”

“Fuck.” His whispers this time pulling at his chefs whites. “Carmy? Are you okay?” Sydney’s firm voice raises with worry as he slumps forward and palms the counter with one hand, grasping the center of his chest with the other. “Chest…, hurts.” He finally breathes out, body tensing as he tries to drag air back into his lungs.

“Nat?!”

Natalie isn’t here tonight. Shit. Richie.

“Richie?!” Sydney moves to the swinging door between the kitchen and the front of house spotting the tall maître d’ in a corner speaking quietly with a large group. “Richie! I need you!” Richie glares at the intrusion and apologies to his guests before closing the space between them and narrowing his eyes. Sydney doesn’t say anything else just guides him into the kitchen where a distressed Carmen is leaning against the counter surrounded by Tina, Ebra and Marcus.

“Yo, cousin? You good?”

Richie places his hand on Carmy’s back as the chef begins to hyperventilate, closing his eyes tightly as another surge of pain radiates through him. All he can manage is the slight horizontal shake of his head. “Fuck - alright, Syd call 911 everybody else give him some room, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

Sydney goes to her locker to retrieve her cellphone while the others disperse and Richie goes back out front clapping his hands together loudly.

“Excuse me, ladies and gents! I’m so sorry to interrupt your fine dining experience this evening but we’re having somewhat of an emergency in the back of house. Is there a doctor dining with us tonight?”

The patrons of The Bear all glance around, shaking their heads no. “Nurses?” Fucking… veterinarian? Richie runs a hand over his tired eyes, his own chest filling with panic at the thought of Mikey’s little brother having a heart attack four feet away.

“I’m a nurse.”

You stand from your table quickly, making your way through the restaurant as Richie guides you into the extremely hot kitchen. “Thank fuck. My uh, cousin - the head chef - I think he’s having a fucking heart attack.” You try to ignore the grief in his words as he ushers you towards Carmy who’s still clutching his chest and the counter with wide worried eyes.

“She’s a nurse, cousin - gonna take a look at you.”

You give him your best smile making sure not to get too close or move too quickly. He looks like he’s having a crippling panic attack.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“C-carm. Carmy. Berzatto.”

“Hi Carmy. Can I help you take off this heavy jacket?”

You wait for him to nod then turn towards you - unable to help with the large buttons of his chefs whites because of how bad his hands are shaking. “It smells amazing in here.” You assure him softly as you pop them open and slide the thick coat over his broad shoulders to hand it over to Tina.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit down okay?” It does smell amazing in Carmy’s kitchen but it’s about a thousand degrees too hot and the sizzling food around you isn’t helping.

“Y-yeah.”

Richie guides you both through the busy kitchen and into the hallway where Sydney is speaking quickly with 911. “Yeah. He’s twenty eight. No, I’m uh…, no I’m not sure.” You continue to guide Carmy to Natalie’s office and push the door slightly closed to block out the noise of Sydney and Richie arguing over Carmen’s medical information.

Once you’re alone in the office Carmy slumps down in a chair and tries desperately to pull air into his lungs - eyes closed tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, Carmy? Look at me okay?” His blue eyes open quickly and meet yours as he nods still unable to catch his breath.

“Your food is amazing.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Uh, yeah. Everything was so delicious! The best food I’ve ever had.”

He forces a grin allowing his lungs to expand to allow him to take a deeper needed breath. “Try this.” You whisper so he’ll pay attention, showing him your own hands as you close them into a fist and open them slowly. “Breathe in when you make the fist and then out when you release it, okay? Slowly.”

Carmy nods watching his hands mirror yours, focusing on the deep ragged breaths. It takes ten of those before the panic inside of him begins to ease. “How are you feeling?” You ask softly as he meets your worried gaze. “Like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest.”

“I’m going to check your pulse okay?”

He nods and watches your fingers wrap around his wrist, applying just enough pressure to the throbbing blood vessel as you look at your watch and begin to count silently.

“Ambulance is on its way cousin.” Richie assures as you pull your hand back noting Carmy’s elevated pulse as he mutters an almost nonexistent word of appreciation while still trying to slow his struggled breathing. “Try the hand thing again Carmy.”

You and Richie exchange a worried glance as Carmy begins his deep breathing again, eyes closing tightly as the ache in his chest continues. “Tell me about the duck dish? In between breaths. I think it has some type of cherry sauce?”

“Y-yeah. The duck confit with cherry.”

 

“So delicious - how do you make it?”

Carmy’s food is of course delicious but you’re trying to take his mind off whatever’s going on inside of him and help him focus while Richie stands at the door making sure the chaos stays away from Carmy, glancing your way every few seconds as you speak directly to his cousin.

 

“Uhh, duck confit…” Carmy takes a deep breath and racks his brain for the information requested. “What’s step one?” You ask softly as the shaking in his hands begins to finally slow.

 

“Step one… we uh, use duck legs. Salt, peppercorn… thyme, onion and…, garlic. We marinate and refrigerate for three days.”

He takes a deep breath without having to be reminded.

 

“Then what?”

“It’s a slow process. The duck legs go into a Dutch oven at two-hundred and fifty degrees and we cover it with like…, an inch of duck fat.”

You smile up at him as you slip your fingers back around his wrist noticing a significant difference in his heart rate. Just keep talking, chef.

 

“How long does that take?”

 

“Three hours.” Carmy says confidently, meeting your eyes. His chest is still heavy but he can finally breathe easier. You smile brightly at him, glancing to Richie as the wail of an ambulance siren echos outside the restaurant.

 

“Is that how you serve it?”

Carmy looks down at his hands that are no longer trembling. “We crisp up the skin in a skillet and then serve it over the tart cherry sauce….” You watch him speak easily about his passion, both of you looking up as two tall EMT’s push past Richie.

 

“Hey Josh.” You say to the tallest guy in front, standing to meet him across the room. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

 

“Having dinner. Carmy got a little overwhelmed in the kitchen but I think we’ve got everything in here calmed down,” She points to her head. “…but he’s still having chest pains.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

Madison turns to Carmy who is sitting on the bench looking at his hands open and close automatically. “Carmy, this is my friend Josh. He’s going to check your stats and see if you should go to the hospital okay?”

 

He glances up to Josh who takes your place before him and places a stethoscope in his ears. “Hey man, this your restaurant?”

 

“Y-yeah.”

 

“I used to come in here all the time back when it was a sandwich spot. Gonna have to bring my wife by. It smells amazing in here.”

 

“T-thanks.”

 

Josh smiles, placing his hand on Carmy’s chest as he listens to his heart beat. “Alright man. Shit, do you know what today is?” He asks knowingly, scribbling something down on his pad of paper as Carmy thinks about his question taking another deep breath.

 

“July 7th.”

 

“That’s right, damn - years half over already.”

 

Carmy nods, forcing a smile as he glances over to you who is standing beside Richie speaking quietly. “Alright, let’s get your blood pressure.” Josh continues, wrapping the cuff around Carmy’s arm as he watches you carefully. Now that his brain and his heart weren’t working against each other he realizes how pretty you are - your kind words soothing him - bringing him out of his despair. That’s never happened before. Thankfully the panic that filled every cell in his body is fading and all that’s left is the tight uneasy feeling in the center of his chest.

 

“Pulse and BP are elevated. Oxygen 92. Is the pain just in your chest?”

Carmy lets your gaze fall. “In…, m-my arm… kind of, and in my upper back.”

Josh nods. “We’re gonna get you in the truck and hook you up to some equipment to do an EKG while in route to the hospital, okay?” You watch Carmy’s muscles tense and his hands stay clenched at the thought of leaving his restaurant. He opens his mouth to protest but Richie steps in, coming to his line of sight. “Cousin. You want to fucking die here? You’re going. Syd can handle it.”

“She c-can’t cook and call Richie!”

You can almost see Carmy’s blood pressure rise another notch. “I’ll help her Carmen - you’re going to the fucking hospital.”

Carmy runs a hand over his face and answers with a groan. “You like doing this right?” You ask softly as he looks at you again. “Yeah.”

“Then you should go get checked out. Make sure there’s no damage so you can continue to do what you love.”

“Yeah, what she fucking said.” Richie adds and relief floods into you as Carmy laughs without humor and finally nods to Josh. “Do you want us to bring the gurney in or do you think you can walk out with us?”

 

“I can walk.” He mutters pushing himself to his feet. “Take it easy, okay?” You say, smiling as he nods again - thanking you quietly. “You’ve got to let me make this up to you - cousin, make sure you take care of her bill tonight for starters.” You laugh at the thought and nod. “Come back in and give us another try?”

“As long as you promise not to have a heart attack, sure.”

Richie looks between the two of you - surprised by the genuine smile Carmy gives you despite possibly being in cardiac arrest. “Cousin, you want me to call Donna?”

 

“Fuck no.” He yells, clutching his chest again as Josh guides him outside to the ambulance.

X

Please go to Ao3 and read my ‘Broken Heart Syndrome’ fanfic and let me know what you think! Unfortunately it’s not a Carmy/Reader but I’ve added 9 chapters and I’m really excited about it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63568372

[testrella]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS…! G.SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER ONE : fight! fight! fight!

NEXT… CHAPTER TWO : rare sighting.

megumi stood in front of his classroom, paper in hand and slightly trembling. he was never one for public speaking but he understood how much it meant to his favorite teacher to present. the timid boy excelled in school since the beginning, so this should’ve been an easy A.

his project was based on a historical figure, and the battles they fought. almost like a biography. he couldn’t remember all the details since he started and finished the night before, but the key points were definitely noted. yes, megumi was the type to start a project assigned two months ago the night before it’s due. he believes he works beautifully under immense pressure.

“speak up boy.” the boy’s voice was stern, cutting through the awkward silence in the classroom.

the silence was soon replaced with the students giggling. it was hard to differentiate the giggles, if it was out of nervousness or to taunt him.

he wasn’t that quiet. megumi thought that perhaps that comment was genuine, and they actually couldn’t hear him. but the mumbling in the back of the class told a different story.

“i bet you could punch him, and he wouldn’t even see it coming.” one of the boy’s whispered, quiet enough to not get in trouble but loud enough to disturb megumi.

perhaps he could’ve used the T.H.I.N.K method before speaking his mind. maybe then he wouldn’t be kicking a boys face and punching another.

now looking back at it, with adrenaline running through his veins, there was no way he could’ve avoided a fight. his fists were itching to feel something at the moment.

one of them lunged at him, shoving him backwards and almost losing his balance. another swings at him at which megumi easily dodged. megumi catches his balance, being fouled by anger, he swings without thinking.

after that, megumi blacks out and couldn’t remember what he did next. next thing he knows, he’s sitting awkwardly in the dean’s office. he wished you didn’t leave to get ice, he felt perfectly fine. he’d much rather deal with the lecture with the comfort that you were there.

the adrenaline starts slowly leaving his body as the dean’s voice goes in and out his head, like a distant drone in his ears.

“…able to knock out three out of the five and broke one kid’s nose. what would your father have to say to this?”

“he is not my father..” megumi said while staring at his bruised and bloodied knuckles. at least he would be proud that he won the fight, right?

“woah there little lady, you okay?. seems like we’re both in a hurry today.” the six foot tall male joked with a teasing and amusing tone.

you looked up, still slightly dazed from bumping into him. you had never seen him around the school, let alone anywhere. the way he was dressed would have you think he belonged in a different tax bracket.

he covered head to toe in designer, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. the suit’s fabric looked to be around a month’s worth of rent. one accessory that stood out was his sunglasses.

as stylish as the glasses were, wearing it indoors called for suspicious behavior. it gave him an aura of mystery that immediately set off alarms in your head.

“excuse me sir, i don’t mean to be rude but you cannot walk around the school without checking in. please turn around and check in.” you said in the firmest way possible, speaking to him as if he were a wanted man.

as attractive as he was, the students’ in the school were your top priority. plus, who would trust a man wearing sunglasses indoors?!

he raises his hands in defense and flashes you a charming smile, “of course, i understand and i apologize. i was just in a bit of a rush, i’m satoru gojo, here’s my ID.”

he pulls out his drivers licenses from his wallet and hands it to you.

“you see, i was called by the dean that my boy got into a bit of a..” you watch as he struggles to find the right words to paint megumi in a good light, “disagreement..?”

“oh! you’re megumi’s fath- i mean guardian!” you continue to examine his ID before handing it back to him. “i’m his home room teacher, we’ll be in the meeting together. please allow me to escort you.”

you motioned for him to follow you, and led the way down to the dean’s office. throughout the small trip, the ice bag in your hand drips away as he makes conversation.

“soooo, you’re a teacher here?”

you looked at him funny, “yes, i told you i’m megumi’s home room teacher.”

his eyes widen as he realized that his question wasn’t the brightest. you watched as he fiddled with his collar and stutters over his next question.

“r-right i knew that. how long have you been working here? you look pretty young.” his tone was full of curiosity but his eyes lingered on you. even with his sunglasses on, you could feel his piercing gaze on you.

“i’ve been working here for 4 years, started when i was 22.” the conversation was then cut short after arriving in front of the door with bold lettering that spelled out ‘DEAN YAMAMOTO.’

you take a deep breath before opening the door, “principal yamamoto, this is mr.gojo. he’s megumi’s uh- guardian.”

you walk over next to megumi before kneeling down. you gently place the melting ice bag over his knuckles that he was desperately trying to hide. his expression was unreadable, there was no telling what was going through his head.

“can you stay with me..?” megumi asked gently. the principal overheard and dismissed you.

“miss. l/n, thank you for escorting mr. gojo. you may take your leave now.” before you could protest, his assistant was already at the door, waiting to take you away.

“actually, i’d prefer if miss. l/n stayed for this meeting. she was there, she’s able to provide more insight on the situation.” gojo then turns to you, “only if that’s okay with you, miss. l/n.”

by then, gojo had already taken off his sunglasses and you were able to stare into his eyes. his eyes were a beautiful icy blue and showed a rare genuine remorse most parents lack. despite not being megumi’s father, there was a charming and dedicated figure for megumi.

“of course, i’d like to start off by talking about megumi as a student.” you sit down in the middle, megumi to your right, gojo to your left. “his grades are excellent and he makes an effort in my class. i cannot speak for his other teachers but he is top of my class.”

you look over at megumi before continuing, “to make things clear, i believe fighting is never the answer. but those boys have been awful to him. i have tried everything and the school has done nothing to punish those kids.”

megumi glances at you, then back at gojo. gojo, the silly goofy man he is, is smiling ear to ear. it annoys megumi to an extent but he shrugs it off.

“and i completely agree with miss. l/n. i’d like the school to open an investigation and take a closer look on what’s been going on. it shouldn’t have taken my megumi to break a kid’s nose for something to happen.” gojo huffs out and crosses his arms while shaking his head. it’s times like these that gojo was glad he taught megumi how to protect himself.

the dean and gojo come to a conclusion. he agreed to pay for the medical expenses as long as the students were punished accordingly and put in another class. it was a win for both megumi and yourself. you no longer had to deal with their disruptive behaviors.

before heading back to your class, gojo pulls you aside. “miss. l/n, i’d like to personally thank you. your presence in that meeting truly helped megumi get out of this.”

he looks around his surroundings, analyzing it before speaking, “megumi has told me how much he loves your class, and i believe the world needs more people like yourself.”

your cheeks flushed as he grabbed both your hands and interlinked them with his. he massages your knuckles for a bit before pulling away. you watched as he pulled out an envelope from his jacket.

“if there’s anything else you need in life, please know that i’m only one phone call away.” his charming eyes stare intensely into yours as he then hands you the envelope.

before you could thank him or even question what he meant by that last sentence, megumi starts pulling him away. you watch as the 15 year old boy pushes gojo away from you, complaining how ‘weird’ he was acting.

you looked down at the envelope in your hands. your hands fiddled with it before finally opening it. as your opening it, a business card falls out.

GOJO CLAN® SATORU GOJO | HEAD OF CLAN | HEIR TO ALL PHONE : +81 ### ### #### EMAIL : gojo.satoru25@family.gojo.com WEBSITE : www.GojoClan.com

and inside the envelope, you find yourself ¥30,000.

it is currently 9:57 p.m and you’re sitting criss cross applesauce on your living room floor. you watch the envelope sitting on your coffee table. you wait for it to disappear since you refuse to believe there’s ¥30,000 in your home.

it was unbelievable that someone could willingly throw it away to somebody they did not know. it felt wrong. no, it felt dirty.

a part of you wanted to call the number on his business card, demand he take the money back and block him on everything. but ¥30,000 was just enough to cover your rent for the month.

you moved to tokyo as a foreigner a few years ago and it hasn’t been easy to keep up financially. there are many things you’ve yet to try due to your financial situation. maybe he was the blessing you needed in life.

before you could fully comprehend the situation, your phone rings. you ignore it and wait for it to stop, and it does for a minute. then it starts ringing again. it doesn’t stop until you decide to pick up.

“hello?”

“is this miss. y/n l/n?” an unfamiliar voice responds back. it was a female voice that had a stern, and demanding tone.

“yes, may i ask who this is?”

“good evening, i’m yuki tanaka and calling on behalf of mr. gojo satoru. i’m please to inform you that you have been invited to an exclusive dinner organized by mr. gojo himself.”

your brows furrowed as you listen intensely. it seemed like some odd prank pulled by one of your students. but with the information being presented, it was too elaborate for it to be a secondary student.

“the dinner shall take place this friday evening in the prestigious gojo grand hotel & resort located in central tokyo.”

you spoke up before she could continue, “i’m so sorry what did you just say? he owns a hotel?! wait- what is this about, this is so much information you process.” you mumbled the last sentence. you run your hand through your hair as you begin to piece the information together.

“i apologize for speaking too fast to your liking. shall i send an email with the details for friday’s dinner? therefore you can decide on your own time if you can RVSP.”

“y-yes! my email is y/-“

“y/n.l/n00@email.com, yes i’m aware. mr. gojo has done extensive research on you.” the lady behind the line then starts to backpedal, “i mean mr. gojo has, he has not done a background check. he- uh, i’ll send the email. have a good night.”

the line goes dead before you can further question her knowledge of your personal information. a sickening pit starts to form in your stomach. how did defending a student’s actions lead to this? then a notification on your phone pops up.

dear miss. y/n l/n,

we hope this email finds you well. we are writing this on behalf of gojo satoru, heir to the gojo clan. the details provided below are in correlation of the organized dinner.

DATE : this friday. TIME : 7:00 p.m LOCATION : gojo grand hotel & resort, private imperial room #6

we hope to see you there. warm regards, yuki tanaka & on behalf of the gojo clan

tag list: @roscpctals99 @poeticlovefanpage @mistyheart @sureconfused @chilichopsticks @lightshowerrr @faeryminnyx @0001010dog @myabae @n1vi @therealestpussyeater r @kolpvii @sleepykittycx @browrm @tojisworm-5 @universallystrangeravenue @catobsessedlady @shivzypuff @nico707 @invisible-mori @peqch-pie @dilflover-3 @lovelivelaygh1324 @mo0sin @gojoracle @foliea @honoredalone @goldenglow149 @portgas459ace @sealsu @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @silkija @prettylvne @r0ckst4rjk @ritsatoru @starlostwish @yihona-san06 @zoeyflower @mx-mekla @iaminyourfloors @gabi-moureira @thesharkcollector @misorastars @hyori2 @selysixn @miffysoo @lordbugs @mimidonottouch

a/n: thank you soooo sooo much for the support & as much as i would love to rage everybody, i think i will be closing my tag list..! it’s a bit of a hassle to do it on my phone but i’ll still add you if i can!! for some reason, some ppl cannot be tagged & i’m not sure howwww to fix it. the usernames are spelled right, it just won’t pop up for some so i do apologize for that inconvenience.

[incorrectbatfam]

Bruce broke his foot (again) and now someone needs to fill in as Batman. Who's donning the cowl and who's making calls to get off the planet so they don't have to do it?

Bruce: Casting calls are now live.

Duke, nervously getting onstage: Hi.

*microphone squeaks*

Duke: M-my name is Duke Thomas and I'm auditioning for the role of Batman.

Bruce: Show me what you got.

Duke: *clears his throat*

Duke, reading from a script: "Stop right there, Joker! Your days of evildoing have come to a—"

Duke: Actually, I have some notes. From a writer's standpoint, this reads less like the Dark Knight and more like a 60s sitcom.

Bruce: Next!

Selina: What better person to be Batman than the woman who has him wrapped around her finger?

Bruce: You know that's not how it works.

Selina: I've been practicing my quick change so I can be both of us in one fight. Come on, Bat. Can't bend the rules for the love of your life?

Bruce: I love you, but next!

Tim: I'm auditioning for the non-dictator Batman.

Bruce: Not taking any chances. Next!

Cassandra: *flips onstage in a series of elaborate acrobatics*

Cassandra: *beats the training dummy*

Bruce: Impressive. Now, I'll give you a scenario and you act it out as if you're Batman, okay?

Cassandra: *nods*

Bruce: A lost child walks up to you. What's the first thing you say?

Cassandra: You will make an excellent Robin.

Bruce: Yes—I mean, no. No. Next person, please.

Dick: I don't get why I have to audition. I mean, I was Batman.

Bruce: Hm, you're right. Let's give someone else a turn. Next!

Jason, in an improvised costume: I am the darkness. I am the night. I am...

Jason: *whips out guns*

*BANG BANG BANG*

Bruce: Next!

Stephanie: Can I try out?

Bruce: Sure, why not. Let's say you're negotiating a hostage situation. What do you say?

Stephanie: I'll give you Bruce Wayne's credit card if you let these people go.

Bruce: Next!

Barbara: I have programmed an advanced speaker system that will project your grunt from every gargoyle in the city.

Bruce: Grunting doesn't send people to Arkham. Next!

Damian: *walks in*

Bruce: No.

Bruce: Last one left is Kate.

Kate: Don't look at me, I'm just trying to find my keys.

Bruce, groaning: Patrol's in an hour. How am I gonna find a replacement?

Alfred: Master Bruce, perhaps I can substitute for you on the field.

Bruce: Thanks for offering, but I can't let you put yourself in danger like that.

Alfred: Then might I suggest, as Ms. Kyle said, bending one of your rules?

Bruce: Hm...

[later]

Joker: With a push of a button, I'm going to send this entire street sky high!

Clark dressed as Batman: Not if I can help it.

Joker: What is this, some sort of flying device?

Clark: Some changes were made.

Joker: Like what?

Diana, dressed as Batman: Like this.

Diana: *lassoes the Joker*

Joker: There's two of you?!?

Ollie, dressed as Batman, perched on a gargoyle: A little more than that.

Dinah, dressed as Batman: And we have some new tricks up our sleeve. Like this.

Dinah: *screams*

Arthur, dressed as Batman, bursting from the sewer: And this.

Arthur: *catches Joker in a whirlpool*

Hal, dressed as Batman, pointing his ring: And this.

Hal: *traps Joker in a ball*

J'onn, dressed as Batman: May I?

Zatanna, dressed as Batman: I want in too.

Hal: Okay, all of us on the count of three.

Everyone: *bounces Joker back to Arkham*

Barry, dressed as Batman: *runs in late*

Barry: Aw man, I missed it!

[cheralith]

omg i really love your slytherin!kaiser au. !!!! your writing is so good !! 😋 i was wondering if you would do any other characters for this type of au if so could you do karasu hp au 🫡😈

character ; karasu tabito || wc ; 931 contains/cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, ravenclaw!reader, ravenclaw!karasu, hogwarts!au a/n ; this was sitting in my inbox for awhile and i honestly didn't really know what to write abt despite wanting to, so hope this is ok! another person added to the harem (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

karasu has always been a rather fascinating character to me personally; dare i say he's very relatable in terms of how he finds himself mediocre? so he gets very confused as to why he's sorted into ravenclaw when he first comes to hogwarts, the house known for producing the most extraordinary wizards because he doesn't think of himself as such. he thinks he's a fraud.

it doesn't help that such a mentality worsens over the years. he excels at his subjects, yes, but amongst the house that many of its students at the top ranks of their classes, karasu merely blends in with the rest of them. there's nothing outstanding about him in particular that makes him stand out from the rest of his house.

so he attempts to search for a way. quidditch catches his eye because of the fact that in all the houses, there are only seven people on a team and he thinks by being one of those seven, he'd be able to stand out from the house of three hundred-something people. he tries out in his third year and doesn't make the cut and it discourages him from trying again in his fourth because if he can't even stand out in tryouts, how the hell was he suppose to make a name for himself if he'd ever make the team?

what makes him destroy that mentality is when he meets you. early in the fifth year, you're in his group for care of magical creatures, where you pick up on his ability to tame animals just by knowing their weaker, vulnerable points. tells you to press on the side of a hippogriff's neck to help calm it down when he sees your tense on your first ride and that the beast could sense it.

you're discussing about the most recent loss ravenclaw incurred from slytherin during a class break, karasu listening intently. you complain that their newest chaser, chigiri hyoma, was an insane weapon on the field, for his speed was incomparable to the others on your own team and what you've seen in the past.

karasu, who was watching the game at the time, tells you that you should've been more perceptive, that you're the upcoming captain, aren't you?

when you furrow your brows and question what he means by that, disapproving of his tone, he merely tells you that you missed a crucial point in the game that would've obliterated slytherin's newest weapon. that chigiri hyoma can't ride for long periods of time since it puts a strain on his back that he suffered an injury on awhile back due to the resisting air pressure.

"yeah, sure, he can definitely fly fast," he says, waving a nonchalant hand, "but he can only do it when he's about t'score a goal. if y'were able to pick that up earlier, ya could've made sure that he exhausted himself faster."

karasu notices your wide-eyed staring after he finishes his ramble of possible tactics you guys should've done against the other players, pointing out some of their key weaknesses. he asks you harshly, "what?" and despite his sharp tone, your eyes just continue sparkling at him.

"have you ever thought about trying out for the team?" you ask him excitedly.

he frowns and picks at his fingernails, head down in shame. "tried to. in my third year," he mutters. "didn't get in."

"well," you start giddily, thinking you found a diamond in the rough. "one of our old beaters had to step down due to an injury... we're hosting tryouts soon for his replacement."

karasu catches your drift and is quick to turn it down, not wanting to embarrass himself like last time. "no thanks. i'm good."

"but!" you protest, "we could use someone like you. someone who's really analytical. all of us are a lot stronger on a physical sense, but you seem to really have the nail on the head of our opponents. imagine what you could do!"

"... i don't have much experience playin' quidditch," he admits, scratching the back of his heating neck, "i don't think i'd be able to do well as the others."

you bite your lip, trying to think of what to say to him. you suddenly think of a plan that may be just a tad bit unfair to the others that would want to try out, but you think karasu could really be an amazing addition to the team with analytical skills that could compare to a familiar prodigal redhead's.

"i probably shouldn't be doing this but," you beckon him with your hand and whisper into his ear, "i could practice with you. just so you can get a solid grip on the play."

he thinks despite the colder weather, he's heating up a little too fast for his sake when your voice sends shivers down his spine.

you pull back with an excited smile on your face as the professor tells everyone to gather together again.

"i'm serious, think about it," you say to him as you begin to walk off to join some other friends of yours. "we'd love to have someone as extraordinary as you on the team."

you throw him a thumbs up just before you run off, leaving karasu dazed with your voice echoing the one word he's been desiring to attain the status of for years now in his mind.

"extraordinary, huh..." he murmurs with a soft grin, staring at the back of your figure when you chat and laugh amongst your friends. "someone like you sayin' that to someone like me... that's pretty funny."