#i still need a calculator for the simple stuff

[mesmoe-rizing]

Ive forgotten how to subtract fractions. fuck.

I only remember advanced math what was the point of all my schooling when I only need to use the simple stuff?????????

#i did not need to take AP calculus #mesmoe speaks #math #mathematics #ap calc #fractions #i did like 7 math credits in hs #and 9 sciences #aaaaaaaa #i still need a calculator for the simple stuff #BECAUSE THE TEACHER SAID TO USE IT FOR THE LITTLE STUFF. USE UR BRAIN FOR THE BIG THINGS #uuuuuuuugh #fuck math #need a person to do the marh for me

[rogueddie]

Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

[netherworldpost]

Rules For Making Art

You can quit. If you want to quit, if you explicitly want to quit, you can. You must never forget that. It is not a negative, it is not a penalty, it is not a failure. Your life is yours to live. The amount of time spending art is yours to choose.

If you do not explicitly want to quit, you cannot. You can rest. You can rest as long as you like.

But unless you say, to your self, in a quiet moment, "I do not want to do this" then you keep going.

You can rest as long as you want.

Months. Years. Decades.

It doesn't matter. The art is there when you get back. It doesn't expire.

You're alive? It's still in you.

Skills can be relearned. All of them. New skills can be added.

You should rest.

It isn't a need, it is a demand. It is maintenance, it is itself part of the art because it is part of being alive and being alive is part of the art.

There is no penalty for slowness.

The benefits of speed are vastly outweighed by the hidden costs: wear and tear on machinery, your body, your mind. You think these are gossamar costs because they are out of sight, out of mind.

Until they are not.

There is no penalty for slowness, the benefits to speed are ephemeral and difficult to calculate, resting is not a need it is a requirement.

Your art is yours. Your life is yours. It can be big, it can be small, it can be both. It can be cheap, it can be expensive, it can range between the two.

The audience brings to the table their wants, their needs, their curiosity.

The audience does not dictate the art.

You do not dictate the audience.

This is a collaboration. Both sides are equal, artist and audience. This keeps your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds.

With fire, I recommend making art that you think should exist, but doesn't yet. That's the stuff, that's the best stuff.

Weigh the costs. Financial, social, physical, mental, spiritual, temporal. Constantly. Is this what you want? Are you following your heart? This is not a loaded question. It is spoken softly. I speak this to you as softly as I would a lover who has fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position.

If you can't make what you want, where can you reduce scope? Where can you increase time? Can you make it smaller, can you make it less elaborate? Take longer time to do it?

Can you make something else entirely?

Can you keep this idea in idea form while you work on something else?

Weigh the costs. An unrealized dream left to dust because it was too hard, too expensive, preventing you from making a realized dream, is worthless.

Make it small.

Make it simple.

Review the scope. You want to make a widget. I ask you softly, do you want to make this widget? Not something else?

Make it smaller than that.

Make it simpler than that.

Review the scope. You want to make a fidget. I ask you gently, if you pursue this path it will cost you much, would you be as satisfied if you made smaller things in greater quantity?

When you feel like quitting, ask yourself with the clarity of cold water on a hot day. Hot water on a cold day. Do you actually want to quit or do you need to rest? Are you not resting because the cost of resting feels like giving up?

There is no giving up.

Failure doesn't exist.

You either want to do this, and do.

You either want to do this, and do it simpler, smaller.

You either want to do this, and rest for awhile, so you can gather resources to do it later. Mental, physical, financial, social, spiritual.

You either want to do this, and plan alternatives, break it apart and do other things first, work up to the grand vision, rescope the grand vision, remix it, shift it around.

Or you don't.

And if you don't? If you truly don't? Then don't force it.

Live your life doing literally anything else. That's great too. Equally. The entire point of being alive is to fill up the well of your soul. There are infinite paths.

If you want to make the thing? Make the thing. Maybe it's great. Maybe it is objectively terrible. Most likely it is somewhere on that spectrum.

Did you enjoy it?

Then it was worth it.

That's literally all that matters.

Everything else is secondary.

Quality is secondary.

If you make things publicly? Quality is quaternary. Here is the order of priority. I'll spell it out. I believe this with my entire soul.

Your enjoyment

The enjoyment of your friends

The enjoyment of people who don't know who see it

The quality of the piece itself

Maybe it wins awards. Maybe it's in publications, maybe museums. I've had work win awards, be published in books, shown in museums. I have stuff you've seen if you've shopped in the grocery store in the United States sometime in the last 25 years or so. And far broader places.

That's great. Resources to keep going.

Secondary.

I love making art.

If you do, too, I hope you make art. If not, that you're resting. And if doing neither, I hope you rest until you it's art time again.

Cheers my fellows.

I hope we all make it.

[jals-stuff]

just an assistant..?

Orter Madl x f!reader

Sure, being his assistant is great... but what if you could get more than that?

Warnings: nsfw! SMUT with female reader, flirty reader, kind of rough?, swearing, dom!orter, semi-public fornication, bossy orter.

MDNI please! Not cool :(

Note: again with no sleep. this has been stuck in my head all day. gods know I love this man. barely proofread, probably bad english (*apologises in french*).

Word count: 3k ish

hope you'll enjoy. (ps: to all of the orter simps who reblog my stuff, y'all hashtags are absolutely heartwarming and i tear up everytime. love you all xoxo <3)

Flirting was never your thing. 

You were a quite discrete young woman and your definition of a good way to flirt was to stare at the one you’re interested in, in hopes they would make the first move. But as years went on, you realised it probably wasn’t an efficient technique. Giving up on love forever had crossed your mind several times… or, well, that was until you met a certain workaholic man.

You had worked extra hard to earn a position as Orter’s assistant, and you were quite happy with it. Working around him was refreshing in a way that most of the things you had to do was bringing him coffee, delivering and bringing his paperwork (an impressive quantity of it, you would’ve never guessed the Bureau required so much of it) and reminding him of meetings and important appointments; simple tasks that didn’t require much effort.

Orter was never the kind of man to talk a lot about his feelings, or talk in general, but there was something you couldn’t quite pinpoint that gave him such an irresistible charisma. Was it his impeccable appearance on a daily basis, or maybe his flawless allure? Perhaps the authoritative voice and golden eyes were a part of it? It was hard to tell; but it was rather obvious that you liked him quite a lot.

This is when your personality shifted completely. You don’t get anything without trying, and you were definitely going to shoot your shot with him. How? …by flirting, of course! Sure, you were potentially awful at it, but he was rather dense when it came to this, so he probably wouldn’t know the difference.

However, most people would call it seduction rather than flirting, the way you bent over slightly more than necessary when picking something up, or how your hand brushed delicately against his own when you handed him documents, even the way you looked at him. Every single gesture was carefully calculated in order to make him see you as more than his assistant.

He was so hardworking and diligent, it was hard not to root for him. Besides, with the amount of effort he put into every single working day, the poor man was probably very stressed out, and quite honestly… the things you would do to him if only to allow him to… alleviate this stress was between you and the gods only. 

Today was a regular day and your shift had just started. You had brought him coffee, as usual, and were sitting in a corner of his office to arrange his meetings and appointments at reasonable hours and within convenient timings to try and make his life easier, but the schedule you had made for him required inspection, and so, you slowly stood up and graciously made your way to his chair, your hand softly reaching for his shoulder.

“Mr. Mádl,” you cooed, leaning a bit towards him, your voice just deep enough to hit these sultry notes. “Your schedule is complete, please do tell me if you see any… issues with it.” You trailed off, slowly brushing your hand off him. He gave it a quick glance, then looked up at you for a second, his expression unreadable, before reading the schedule you had handed him.

You leaned in a bit closer, your shoulder close to his now and your face too, your delicate fingers pointing out certain things that might still need approval on the other party or a few elements you’d change if he so desired. He simply gave a nod and handed it back to you, and you made sure that your soft hands would very faintly caress his own as you took the paper back. “Thank you, I’ll get your coffee now~” you purred with a slight chuckle, and at this point he was just feeling disoriented. 

“Don’t leave yet, I have questions.” His voice was, as per usual, unreadable; Orter always had this same flat tone and it was quite hard to discern his emotions. “You have been very… tactile, for a while now.” He crossed his arms softly and lowered his glasses a little bit, his eyes on you. “Care to explain?”

So he had noticed. What to do now? Should you come clean and confess that you’re intentionally flirting with him, or should you pretend you’re innocent and plead not guilty? The latter was probably safer if you wanted to keep your job, because openly flirting with your boss was a shitty idea from the start anyway, but you just couldn’t help it.

“Pray, tell, whatever are you talking about, Mr. Mádl?” You mused, your fingertips hiding your lips and this faint smile while your gentle eyes rested on his. “Is everything alright?” You faked concern, your eyes supposedly betraying a hint of worry, and he only gave a sigh and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

“Miss (L/N), I may be dense, but I am no fool.” He started calmly, but anyone could’ve told he was running short on patience, and you were probably not going to help with this. “If you value your position at the Bureau, I would suggest you cooperate when I ask you a question.” Orter opened his eyes again, his doubtful gaze on your deceitful eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Mádl…” you sighed softly with a gentle smile as you took a few steps back towards his desk and softly put the schedule back on it, then slowly made your way to his chair, leaning forwards just enough so your cleavage was a tiny bit revealing. “Let a girl feel attractive, at least for herself~” you cooed again, and he seemed to lose patience even more.

You looked at his glasses on the tip of his nose, at his tie that was obviously too tight, at his shirt you would love to see on the floor, and at his hands, then his lips… before looking back into his eyes with sultry eyes and a gentle, polite smile. You couldn’t help but run your fingers against his forehead, brushing away his soft bangs, your hand then landing on his shoulder and softly caressing its way away from him.

“But I will admit…” You brought your fingertips to your lips again to conceal this faint, smug smile that was creeping up on your face now. “...I do enjoy being tactile around such a… handsome man.” A small giggle escaped your lips as you playfully stuck your tongue out to try and get a reaction out of him.

“You are infuriating, you know that?” He spat, his scolding glare on yours. You raised both eyebrows in surprise; seeing Orter speak his mind was very uncharacteristic and frankly enough, you didn’t expect him to feel this bothered with your behaviour. Were you going to stop teasing him though? Absolutely not. You gave a pout and pushed his glasses back into their spot and took a few steps back, making him angrier than he was before.

Your flirtatious personality was pissing him off more than anything else, but you couldn’t help it, he was just that irresistible. Even though you knew you would probably ruin your chances with him, deep inside, you knew he was just a man, and no matter how lawful he was, he would eventually give in. After all, he couldn’t resist his adorable assistant… right?

“Damn…” You trailed off, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. “You look very sexy when you get angry.” Oh, the look he gave you was priceless. You could feel all the intensity of his golden eyes right into yours, and he stood up slowly, walking towards you. He stopped and looked down at your smug smile.

“You are insufferable— worse, even.” He sighed deeply, clenching his fists. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face.” He grabbed you by the collar, his expression way more serious than you thought it would be. It wasn’t the playful argument you had hoped for; he was genuinely mad this time. It was quite a surprise to you, but his behaviour had finally changed and you could not let this opportunity slide.

“Do your worst, Mr. Sandman~!” You teased with a chuckle, and were only met with a low growl and a rough grab of your waist, pulling you closer to him, your face mere inches away from his. Your eyes travelled down to his lips and you were so, so tempted to kiss him right here, right now to taunt him more… and you did. A quick, gentle peck was all it took for him to run a hand over his desktop and throw all of his paperwork to the floor, pinning you down on your back against his desk.

“Oh I fucking will.”

Orter undid your waistcoat and ripped your buttons off, exposing your chest to his now hungry eyes. He grabbed you by the front of your bra and brought your chest closer to his, his hips pinning yours against the edge of his desk, and suddenly, you realised he was probably going to make you regret everything you’ve done so far. It started with him removing his belt with one hand and holding both of your cheeks with the other one.

He quickly wrapped his belt around your wrists and pinned you back down against the desk, his hand pressing against your belly just enough to keep you from squirming, and he slowly brought it up towards your bra, slipping a finger underneath it to tug a little bit on it. But that wasn’t nearly enough to quiet you down.

“Bit bold, aren’t we, Mr. Sandman?”

He didn’t reply, but instead decided to grab your bra with his fist, and you could feel the disaster happen as he ripped it completely, denying you of your only comfortable bra. A surprised yelp escaped your lips, and he finally started to look satisfied. “Bit shy, aren’t we, Miss assistant?” He asked with a chuckle, yet his face remained completely neutral.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as you didn’t expect him to actually expose you like this and forever ruin a piece of your clothing, but he didn’t stop here. He forcefully folded your arms behind your back, and if you weren’t so turned on by the situation, it would’ve probably hurt you a lot. Now that your hands were out of the way, he brought both hands to your breasts and started feeling them up, roughly pressing them into his calloused palms and fingers. 

Orter’s fingers tentatively rubbed against your hardened nipples, eliciting a quiet groan from you and a slight squirm of your hips, but he quickly held you in place with his own. “Stop squirming, you asked for it.” He grunted with another roll of his hips against your crotch, effectively silencing any protests you had, as they died with another lustful groan.

He could feel his pants becoming tighter and tighter from your sweet sweet voice, and obviously, his clothed boner rubbing underneath your skirt did not help; he could feel your moist panties through his clothing and it was driving him crazy.

“Someone’s enjoying a little discipline, mh?” He asked with a condescending tone, and you couldn’t do anything but nod quickly, your cheeks slightly flushed from how bold he had grown over the last few minutes. Everytime his erection pressed against your aching clit, it felt like you were getting wetter. Your cunt was clenching around nothing and you physically felt the need to have him inside of you.

Unfortunately, he seemed determined to tease you. His hand grabbed both of your cheeks again, making you look straight into his eyes as he leaned forwards and slipped his hand underneath your skirt, running his fingers against your damp panties, making you shiver in delight and sheer lust.

“A-ah, Orter—”

He pressed your cheeks harder in an urge to silence you again, not wanting to hear anything else than your needy groans and whimpers. He slipped his fingers inside your panties and straight-up pressed against your clit, looking into your eyes as you whined loudly, making him raise his eyebrows in a condescending fashion. “Oh~ is my little assistant enjoying her punishment?”

You nodded quickly again, making him bite his lip, his gaze shifting from condescending to lustful, and he couldn’t help but lean forwards, holding your face in place so he could look at you while you squirmed under his touch. He rubbed your sensitive clit harder and faster, listening to your whimpers as if they were a musical masterpiece, licking his lips in hunger at the feeling of your crotch getting wetter.

Orter’s eyes never left yours as he expertly stimulated you further, making your thighs and hips tremble, the feeling of this knot growing inside your stomach. As your trembling reached its peak and your moans got louder, he pulled his hand out of your panties and gave his finger a teasing lick, looking down on you with a mocking glare. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?”

It was frustrating, so frustrating, but at least you were about to get a real piece of him now. At least, that’s what you could make of it; you were panting and looking at the ceiling when you heard his pants’ zipper go down. He wasted no time and freed his cock from his boxers, immediately rubbing it inside your panties, collecting your juices.

The way his tip rubbed against your puffy clit again sent shocks down your spine and you couldn’t help but whine a bit louder in such a needy, pathetic way. You’d gotten so wet for him, and he was blissfully aware of that fact. He then pushed his tip slightly against your folds, but retracted it and, for the first time, smiled at you; a cruel, mocking smile.

“Beg.”

You couldn’t take it anymore and didn’t want to waste any more time, and so you did not hesitate. Your hips were already bucking into his unwillingly, your body practically physically aching at the lack of his dick.

“Please, please Orter. I’ve been really bad.. Please fuck me into discipline, pl—”

Your sentence did not entirely go through as he pushed forward, effectively filling you up with his large member, making you shakily whimper from the pleasure, as he grabbed both of your hips and started rutting into you like a madman. You couldn’t help but wonder if your coworkers (or anyone walking through the corridor at this very moment) would hear your pitiful cries of pleasure, and it seems he thought the same.

“That’s it, good girl. Let them know how you deserve to be treated.”

Not because he told you so though, but his words made you painfully tighten around his cock, crying out loud in sheer bliss from his rough thrusts and the way your body jolted up everytime he pushed forwards. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes and you couldn’t even see him properly anymore.

Seeing you cry from the pleasure awakened something in him and he decided to make it even worse for you. One of his hands left your hips and moved to your crotch, his thumb teasingly rubbing your clit with the tip of his nail, making your legs tense up and close around his hips as they immediately raised up and he had to push you back down with the hand that was holding you back as you quite literally wailed from the stimulation.

You were sweaty, flushed, shaking in pleasure and it was clear the paperwork that was under your hips was ruined forever, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, he pressed his thumb more firmly against your needy clit and rubbed it more and more, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your trembling cunt was clenching around his cock as he plummeted forwards with each movement of his hips, only to see you drool and cry more from his ministrations. He could feel himself get close as well, and decided that you’d be the first to go! What a gentleman.  And so, his thrusts grew in speed and force, and his thumb was practically crushing your clit, forcing loud shaky moans and whines out of your mouth. 

“Orter, ‘m… so close—”

He raised an eyebrow and his lips curved into a smirk as he eyed the way your breasts were bouncing with every slam of his hips into yours. He was also quite sweaty now and his clothes were sticking to his skin uncomfortably, but he needed this release more than anything else.

He kept on drilling into your needy pussy until you started shaking harder, convulsing almost, and your legs closed harshly around his hips, but he didn’t stop rubbing your clit nor thrusting, he only pushed you back down with his other hand as he hungrily grunted in pleasure. “C’mon… come for me, be a good, obedient girl…”

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore; you came and covered his desktop, pants, and carpet in your sweet juices, convulsing from the overstimulation he was giving you as his fingers never stopped rubbing you and he fucked you through your orgasm. It took every fibre of his being not to fill you up immediately as you tightened hard against his cock, and as soon as you were done, he gave one last thrust, holding himself nested deep inside of you, and grunted loudly as he gave you your reward on the spot.

You were softly trembling from the overstimulation, your face covered in sweat, drool and tears, as you found it quite difficult to catch your breath afterwards. He finally retrieved his belt and put his pants back on correctly, adjusting his glasses one more time before walking towards his closet to grab a large coat, and he tossed it at you.

He sighed, then sat back on his chair, crossing his legs, studying your fucked out expression, visibly pleased to see you flustered and blushing from the steamy interaction.  “Go and get me my coffee, miss assistant. And get one for yourself, too. I believe we have important matters to discuss today…”

#orter madl #orter mádl #orter x reader #mashle orter #madl orter #orter madl x reader #orter mádl x reader #mashle x reader #mashle x you #orter madle x you #mashle orter madl #mádl orter #mádl orter x reader #orter madl smut #orter mádl smut #orter smut #mashle smut

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Requesting IDW Megatron x Lost Light human liaison reader. Based on the song "Heaven's Light" from Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Thanks for the request! Sorry for such a long delay! I spent a lot of time writing and rewriting this because I wanted to get it right. I went with Autobot Megatron for this one. I hope that is okay with you! Feedback is always appreciated! :D

Heaven's Light

Pairing: IDW Megatron x Human Liaison Reader

Word Count: 3588

Summary: Though he is now a hardworking Autobot aboard the Lost Light who's just trying to make up for the sins he's committed in his past, Megatron still believes he is a monster who is unworthy of ever being loved. That all changes when you, a little human liaison from Earth, makes your way into his life and implores him to reluctantly open his spark.

Megatron knows he is a monster.

  He has done horrible things. He has killed, he has tortured, he has maimed. His recharge cycles are plagued with the echoes of screams and the fallen frames of mangled bodies. He stands atop a pile of them. When he looks at his servos, they are drenched in wasted energon that isn’t his own. Nightmares, Rune calls them. Terrible warped memories of his past. He cannot escape them. The guilt will stain him forever.

  Megatron is aware that most of the Lost Light’s crew is afraid of him. With the exceptions of others like the captain, most steer clear of his way. When they see him thumping down a hallway with steps that seem to shake the entire ship, they scurry like glitch mice when a cyber cat is near. They speak to him with tremors in their voices and rattling in their joints.

  Not that he makes things easy for them, he admits. Megatron is aloof, calculating, and antisocial. His violent tendencies have devolved into simple growls and annoyed huffs. He’s not here to make friends. He’s here to do a job: atone for the sins he has committed.

  And yet, the nightmares remain. They do not leave no matter what he does.

  Megatron is not a gentle being. He knows he is rough around the edges, and that scares people. So when he hears the announcement about a human boarding the Lost Light, his first instinct is to avoid them at all costs. It does not matter if they are a liaison. Humans are fragile and too easy to break. And he hardly believes Earth wants their delegate to be interacting with the former Decepticon warlord who has slaughtered thousands.

  Unfortunately, his dimwitted captain has different plans.

  “No.” Megatron crosses his arms and lifts his chin defiantly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, come on.” Rodimus throws his helm back with an exasperated groan. “You're the perfect bot for the job! Why can’t you just say yes?”

  “I did not board this ship to inevitably become a human babysitter.” Megatron’s words come out harsh and unyielding. “The answer is no, Rodimus. Get someone else to do it.”

  “I agree,” Drift says. “In no way can I see this resulting in a positive outcome. Um…no offense Megatron.”

  Megatron snorts. “None taken.”

  “You two don’t understand.” Rodimus rubs his forehelm in faux exhaustion. “The human is here to learn about Cybertronian history and culture. Who else knows more about that sort of stuff than you?”

  Megatron bares his teeth. “Are you calling me old?”

  “I’m calling you knowledgeable,” Rodimus shoots back. “You can tell the human so much about us, more than Drift or I could combined.”

  “That is not my area of profession. Get Rewind to do it.”

  “No,” Rodimus objects. “I want you to do it.”

  “Rewind would be a much better option if we want this human to successfully integrate into the ship’s social life,” Drift advises.

  Rodimus punches the other mech squarely in the shoulder plating. Drift yelps and jumps back. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Are you on my side with this or not?” Rodimus snaps.

  “I’m on the side of wanting the human to like us, and I don’t believe pairing them with Megatron is the best way to achieve that! Again, no offense to Megatron, but we need to make a good impression.” Drift straightens and rubs his shoulder, wincing. “We have to think about this clearly, Rodimus.”

  “I am thinking clearly. I am the most clear-thinking mech in this room. I have never been thinking clearer, and I don’t think I ever will.” He points at Megatron. “You are going to be this human’s companion for the next six cyber-weeks they are here. You will educate them on our ways, teach them our history, and convince them that we are awesome and amazing and incredible. Understand? Come on, remember their little human motto! ‘Salvation through understanding, understanding brings in the light!’ There’s no way you can say no to that!”

  Megatron feels indignation churn within his tank. That indignation turns into something dangerous, something he has not been able to snuff out of himself completely since he’s turned over a new leaf. That something is hostility borne from the frustration of being told to do something he doesn’t want to do. He snarls, but Rodimus does not cower. The red-and-orange mech’s plating bristles and clacks together in an act of instinctual dominance. The two leaders stare each other down in a silent battle. It takes Drift being the middle-man to relieve some of the tension crackling between them. “Alright, enough! Both of you stop right now! The human is going to be here at any moment, and you want their first impression of you two to be this? Calm down and get a hold of yourselves!”

  Megatron scoffs. Without looking at either of them, he shoulders past Drift towards the door. “I will do as you say, Rodimus,” he rumbles. “But don’t you think I will enjoy a second of it. You are making a mistake.”

  He hears Drift whisper “This is a bad idea” to the captain. Megatron stomps off, ignoring how every mech around him presses themselves against the walls to avoid his path. They should have chosen Rewind.

  You are…not what Megatron was expecting.

  You arrive on the ship with a swagger in your step and not an ounce of nervousness within you. Your eyes are wide with awe and your little dermas are split in a wide open smile as you turn in a circle to take everything in. There’s something distinctly adorable about the way you shift the weight of your stuffed backpack from one shoulder to the other and drag a tiny little suitcase behind you that makes the softer side of Megatron want to say “Awwww.” Apparently he isn’t the only one either; Rodimus is smiling like an idiot, his servos fidgeting like he wants to scoop you up and coo at you dotingly.

  Drift elbows him. He snaps to attention and announces himself grandly, which makes Megatron want to cringe. “Liaison Y/N! So good to finally meet you in person! Welcome to the Lost Light!” He kneels and extends his servo with surprising mindfulness. “I am Rodimus Prime, captain of this ship.”

  Your smile widens when you hold the tip of his index digit between both of your little fleshy servos and shake it. “I am honored to be here, captain.”

  “The honor is all ours. And please, just call me Rodimus. You're one of us now. There’s no need for formalities.” Rodimus rises and gestures to Drift. The red-and-white mech steps forward and dips his head while he is introduced. “This is Drift, my third-in-command. And this is Megatron, my…co-captain.”

  Megatron keeps his expression neutral when he steps forward to loom over you like a mountain. You have to crane your neck back in order to take all of him in. Here we go, he thinks. Any moment now, you’ll recognize his name. You’ll retreat to a safe distance. Maybe even start screaming in fear. He shouldn’t be surprised. After all, he is Megatron, feared former leader of the Decepticons, one of the most ruthless and terrifying beings in the-

  Your smile does not waver and your attitude remains just as bright. “Megatron. It’s wonderful to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

  It takes a moment for him to register your words. Wait, what?

  Rodimus coughs and eyeballs him critically. “Oh.” Megatron blinks. “Um. Yes. Hello. It’s wonderful to, uh, meet you too.”

  Drift snickers. He wants to punch him.

  “I apologize for his flustered state.” Rodimus laughs nervously. “We’re all just very excited to have you on board. This is the first time much of the crew will be meeting a human, so I hope you’ll understand that some of us might not know how to interact with you.”

  “It’s no problem,” you say. “I get it. But that’s why I’m here! So if you are curious about me, then I encourage it.”

  Rodimus relaxes, looking relieved. “Yes, of course! We’re connecting two worlds! It’s absolutely incredible.”

  “If anyone makes you actively uncomfortable though, please let one of us know,” Drift adds. “We understand that there is a clear power imbalance between you and all of us. It’s important that you feel safe here.”

  “Well, that’s why Megs is going to be your partner during your time here!” Rodimus grabs Megatron’s shoulder and shakes him. It takes all of his strength not to growl. “You're here because you want to know more about us, right? Well, my co-captain is extremely knowledgeable in all things Cybertronian. He’ll do his best to answer any and all questions you might have!”

  You show no trepidation over this. In fact, your eagerness only seems to grow. Megatron is honestly stunned. “Oh, absolutely, I’d love that! As long as it’s okay with you?” You look back at him inquiringly.

  He starts to object, but Rodimus slams his servo over his intake. “He’s totally okay with it! He volunteered, after all! And he’ll start with showing you to your habsuite with Drift, so you can take all the time you need to settle in!”

  Your concerns are soothed. Taking up your suitcase, you follow Drift and leave the docking bay, with the other mech walking at a turtle’s pace in order to stay in tandem with you. Megatron rips Rodimus’s servo away from his intake. “You,” he hisses, “are the bane of my very existence.”

  Rodimus shrugs. “I can live with that title. But seriously, I’m doing you a favor right now. Enough with the brooding miserableness and more with the reinventing yourself. I’m trying to help you feel more at ease here. If you start with the human, you may find yourself actually being gentle.”

  He snarls, and for the first time in a long while wonders if he can get away with killing one last Autobot. But when he looks at you and sees the way you smile up at Drift with so much young excitement…something in him softens.

  “So, I was told you know a lot about Cybertronian culture,” you say to him. Drift is long gone, and your habsuite is set up to house all of your accommodations. You sit back on the miniature berth covered with blankets and pillows, thin legs swinging idly while you regard him with a curious look. He glances at you fleetingly, then returns his gaze to the data pad he’s holding.

  “That I do,” he answers.

  “Mind telling me some stuff?”

  Your question is blunt and to the point. There’s no hesitation. You don’t look the least bit afraid. For a moment, Megatron wonders if you even know who he is. You just seem so…clueless. Did your human superiors really give you no sort of debriefing on who you would be dealing with here before you left?

  “What do you want to know?” he asks reluctantly.

  “I want to know about turbo foxes,” you reply.

  He stares at you. Then he bursts into raucous laughter that causes his entire frame to shake. You throw your hands up in feigned exasperation, grinning like an idiot. “What? What did I say?”

  “You said nothing wrong, little one.” He manages to calm himself down, shaking his head while still chuckling. “I just…I was expecting you to ask about the war.”

  “Why would I ask you about that?”

  “Because that is what everyone wants to know about. The war is essentially a defining factor of our history and culture. Our image cannot exist without it.”

  You shrug. “I can learn about the war from anyone. I already have. But turbo foxes? I’ve only read a single paragraph about those. They sound so cute! You have to tell me more.”

  “Wait.” He pauses, confused. “You…you’ve learned about the war?”

  “Of course I have,” you reply. “Like you said, it’s part of your history and culture. Who hasn’t at this point?”

  “So…you know who I am. Megatron. Me. You’ve learned about me.”

  “Yes?” You tilt your head. “I don’t know what this has to do about turbo foxes.”

  “No, it-it has nothing to do with them. I just-” He sighs, rubbing his optics in a tired way. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t acknowledged the fact that you know me. You know what I’ve done. You know what I’m capable of continuing to do.”

  “I haven’t acknowledged it because it’s not worth acknowledging.”

  “That is absurd. Of course it is worth acknowledging. I am Megatron. I’m the former leader of one of the most feared armies known throughout the universe.”

  “Former leader,” you say.

  “That-” He sputters. He isn’t sure where you are going with this; you’ve thrown him for a loop. “That has nothing to do with the current situation.”

  “Yes it does.” You stand up. “You used to be the leader of the Decepticons. You’ve killed, you’ve destroyed. But you don’t do that anymore. So now here we are.”

  “You are okay with completely looking past everything I have done? You're just going to…ignore it?”

  “No.” You take slow steps towards him. “I’m not. I’ve done my research on you. I understand that you’ve done terrible things. But I also know that you're trying to make up for all of that. You're good now. Being here, helping me…I know you're trying to be better. I appreciate that.” You hold up your hands. He understands, yet hesitates to fulfill your wish. You have to encourage him. “Come on, it’s okay. You won’t hurt me.”

  He bends down and extends his servo. “How can you be so sure?”

  You hold his index digit and bring the tip to your cheek, allowing him to caress the soft organic skin of your face. You are so small, so delicate, so carefully made. Megatron isn’t caught up on the stories about the gods of your world, yet he knows-he can feel it-that whatever being made you put so much care and love into their work, he is sure their power rivals Primus himself. His walls crumble. He wants to hold you forever.

  “I’m sure because I trust you,” you say. “And when you earn the trust of someone you can so easily hurt…you know you are good.”

  Six weeks later…

Swerve’s bar is filled with life. Megatron hears it all the way from the deserted hallway he sits in. The laughter, cheers, and songs echo like the hauntings of spirits. Yet, he feels no urge to join in. The bench he sits on is as cold as space. He’s sure he can feel the chilling void through the large observation window he’s in front of right now.

  The soft pitter patter of human feet turns his attention away from the window. He sees you heading towards him with cheeks flushed red and a stupid smile. His olfactory sensors pick up on the faint scent of alcohol sticking to your skin when you make it over to him.

  “Are you drunk?” he asks.

  “A little,” you reply. A soft pat to his pede signals what you want. He gives it to you, scooping you up into a gentle hold and placing you on his right tibulen. You lean against him with a soft exhale. “Why didn’t you come join us?”

  He lifts his gaze to the window. “I’m not a big drinker.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s okay. Neither am I.”

  The warmth of your little body is comforting. It makes him want to focus on you. Yet, he can’t manage to do so. It’s such a foolish situation; him, of all mechs, so infatuated with this little human, he can barely look at them.

  But it goes beyond that. He knows it does. So do you. Six weeks are nearly over. Your time here will soon be done.

  He doesn’t know how to handle that anymore.

  “Why did you leave Swerve’s?” he chooses to ask you, because if he brings up the topic of you leaving, he thinks he’s going to lose control of his emotions.

  “I wanted to be with you.”

  He snorts. “I hardly think a party being thrown in your honor is worth leaving in exchange for spending time with some old bot.”

  “Oh, please. You aren’t just some old bot to me. I like being around you. Is that so hard to believe?”

  He smiles humorously. “You might be the only one on this ship who does.”

  You don’t respond, and Megatron fears he might have offended you in some way. When he looks at you, he sees your shoulders slump and your head hang like you are mourning the dead.

  “I’m leaving soon,” you murmur.

  “...I know.”

  “I asked my superior if I could stay.” You draw your knees to your chest and hug them. “I begged him. Another week. Hell, another day. But he wouldn’t give in. Fucking asshole…he knows I’ve gotten attached.”

  “Getting attached was the point of you coming here.”

  “I know. But…not like this.” An invisible chord tightens around your little body. He can tell your composure is crumbling. “This…wasn’t something I was trained for.”

  His spark aches painfully. If he were younger, he’d do something rash; threatening your superior would have been his first course of action. If that didn’t work, he’d steal you away and whisk you off to the far reaches of space, away from Earth, away from anything or anyone who might prevent the two of you from being together.

  But he’s not his younger self. He’s old. He’s tired. So he simply heaves a sigh and lifts his optics to the stars. “You know…so many times out there, I’ve watched a happy pair of lovers walking in the night.”

  You lift your head and look at him. There are tears in your eyes. Megatron rumbles out a deep purr and reaches for you, gently maneuvering you into his servos and lifting you up to his faceplate. You lean forward and place a tiny hand on his nose.

  “What were they like?” you ask quietly.

  “They had a kind of glow to them,” he responds with a sense of wistfulness. “It almost looked like…Heaven’s light.”

  That makes you giggle. “How the hell do you know what Heaven is?”

  “Lets just say I’ve done my research,” he answers with a smile.

  You lightly tap his nose with your fist. “Sap.” Your expression falls into a contemplative frown. “What were you thinking when you saw them? The lovers? Were you jealous?”

  “Well…not exactly. Jealousy isn’t the right word to describe it. But…I envied them. I wanted to be like them. But I knew I’d never know that warm and loving glow, though I might wish with all my might.” He closes his optics, steadying his breaths. He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of you. “No face as hideous as my face…was ever meant for Heaven’s light.”

  You open your mouth to retort, not at all willing to listen to him put himself down. That’s one of the things he loves about you. No matter who it is, you will always step in to make someone feel better. It’s a quality many Cybertronians are lacking, yet it abounds in humans plentifully.

  He had been wrong about your kind, back when he was still the leader of the Decepticons. You are so much more beautiful than you realize.

  Megatron cuts you off gently with a low puff of air into your face from his nose. You sputter and stumble back, and he laughs. His thumb comes up to stroke your hair, then travels down to trace the outline of your jaw. You still, eyes widening when you see the lovesick look he’s giving you. “But suddenly an angel has smiled at me…you, little one. Come on, smile.”

  There’s no sharp-witted reply from you to make him chuckle. You just obey him and smile. His spark skips a beat and he feels like he is going to melt right then and there. “You are the only one to smile at me in this way,” he whispers. “And you…you’ve touched my face without a trace of fright.”

  “I could never be afraid of you,” you say. You press yourself against his nose, hugging him in the best way you can. He feels you trembling. “I’ve dreamt of this. I’ve dreamt of you. I still dream. I dare to dream that you might even care for me…”

  Megatron leans into your touch. “My cold dark tower seems so bright…I swear it must be Heaven’s light.”

  There is silence between you for some time. The noise from Swerve’s bar has faded away. You sniffle and don’t pull away. “Stay with me,” you beg.

  “You know I can’t,” he says. “Not forever.”

  “Then just for tonight. For as long as we have left. Stay with me, please. I don’t want to let you go. I love you.”

  “You don’t have to.” He hugs you with his free servo. “Not right now. I’m here. I love you too. You are the only one I will ever love. My Heaven’s light.”

  “Salvation through understanding,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. Yet, you are smiling. It’s a grateful smile. A smile that tells him you are so, so lucky to have ever met him at all.

  His optics well up. He lets the walls break. “Understanding brings in the light.”

  Megatron knows he is a monster.

  But after meeting you…he knows he’s a monster who’s worthy of receiving love.

#gator writes #idw megatron x reader #idw megatron #mtmte megatron #megatron #transformers idw #mtmte #lost light #transformers #transformers mtmte #transformers lost light #reader insert #transformers idw x reader #tf idw x reader #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #transformers x human reader #transformers x reader #transformers g/t #maccadam

[cinnbar-bun]

Popularity- Cross Guild's Day Off 2 (Cross Guild x Reader)

Summary: In which you work with the three Cross Guild officers and Buggy attempts to prove his popularity through a poll. Of course, it's never as simple as it really should be in Cross Guild.

Rating: SFW/Crack

Word Count: ~3k

Notes: No relationships are defined, so feel free to headcanon whatever you want. I know it says x Reader up there and I wrote it in mind that it's a weird ass polycule but I made sure to leave it ambiguous for your reading pleasure. Made in mind with part 1, but can be read as standalone. Features cameos from Alvida, Galdino, and Daz Bones.

A/n: I love these three goofballs so like feel free to request stuff with them or what scenarios you'd like to see them in please???

Read Part 1 here! Read this chapter on my AO3 here!

“It’s really not fair! It’s not fair at all!” Buggy screamed. Mihawk, Crocodile, and you sighed at whatever it was that seemed to be, well, bugging Buggy. 

“Will you stop your complaining? Some of us are actually trying to do work here,” Crocodile growled while his fingers continued clicking away on the calculator. “(Y/n), go and hand me the reports for-,” 

“Right here, Sir,” you said as you handed him the stack of papers he wanted. Crocodile smirked proudly while his eyes narrowed at Buggy. 

“See, why can’t you be like (Y/n)? They know how to get work done.” 

“Wha-! I get work done! Plenty of work!” 

“Juggling isn’t work.” 

“Is too!” Buggy stomped his foot. 

“Hardly,” Mihawk chimes in. 

“Grrr… you two are just jealous of me! Jealous of how I’m the Star Clown and you two will just be boring, old men!” 

Mihawk and Crocodile glanced at each other knowingly and rolled their eyes. 

“You’re still bothered by the fact you were not important enough to have any good cards in the deck, aren't you?” Mihawk states bluntly, not bothering to be gentle with Buggy’s fragile ego. 

“SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!!!” Buggy shouted, gaining the attention from his subordinates outside the office. 

“Aw… someone’s upset,” Crocodile teased. You huffed at the two stoic ex-warlords and tried to soothe Buggy. 

“Buggy, it’s alright. They’re just silly cards. Look around you, you have so many employees happy to work for you because they really admire you as captain,” you say genuinely while patting his head. Buggy sniffles and nods. 

“You’re right, (Y/n), you’re right,” Buggy agrees. He wipes his eyes and nose with his hand before he bounces back to life, clenching his fists. “That’s very true! All these people love me and would die for me! So those card makers don’t know anything! I’m the most popular one here!” 

“Wait, what…” you wince, while Crocodile and Mihawk groan. 

“Thanks, (Y/n), now he’s gonna do something stupid again,” Crocodile sighed. 

“Buggy, all I’m saying is-” you try to fix your error, but Buggy shakes his head. 

“Nope! You just gave me an amazing idea!” 

“Here we go again,” Mihawk mumbles. 

“W-what’s the idea?” You ask Buggy. 

“Obviously, to really settle the matter, we need to hold a popularity contest!” Buggy proclaims. 

“We really don’t have to. No one cares about this except you,” Crocodile says blandly while he opens the folder you gave him. 

“Haha! You’re just saying that because you know deep down that I will win when it comes to Cross Guild!” Buggy eggs Crocodile on. “They love me here!” 

“I really don’t care-” 

“So, to finally gather once and for all who the most popular is-” 

“God damn it.” 

“I’m going to poll the others!” Buggy announces, grabbing a random clipboard from your desk. 

“Isn’t that rather biased?” Mihawk asked. 

“Biased? What are you talking about?” Buggy raises his brow. “You think Imma lie about this?” 

“Yes,” all of you respond. Buggy lets out an offended gasp and frowns. 

“Well then, what do you suggest, smart guy?” Buggy yells at Mihawk. 

“Having only you go around and then return with results will obviously not be the most accurate. We need to send a third party that won’t lie,” Mihawk explains. 

The three men turn to look at you. 

“Why do I have to do it?” You fold your arms. “I have work to do!” 

“I’ll pay you extra for this week in order to have Buggy shut up,” Crocodile states. 

“Do you think I can be swayed so easily with money?” 

“Yes,” the three men respond. You swipe the clipboard from Buggy. 

“Damn right I am,” you state as you pick up your favorite pen from your desk. 

“Now then, since you’re going to be polling, I expect truthful and honest answers,” Mihawk demands. “No one can lie or cheat this.” 

“Before we do this, none of you are allowed to know who voted for who,” you add. “I’m not having you fire or hunt down some poor employee because they voted for Mihawk or something.” “Well that won’t happen,” Buggy comments. “No one is gonna vote for Mihawk to begin with.” 

Now it’s Mihawk’s turn to be offended. “What do you mean by that, Buggy? Do I need to silence you for good?” 

“Eek! All I’m saying is, you hardly ever step out of the office or interact with anyone!” 

Mihawk stays silent then mumbles, “I interact with others…” 

“Oh really? Name one person you’ve interacted with,” Crocodile demands. 

“You can’t do that, either,” Mihawk counters. 

“That’s just because I don’t give a shit about these people’s names. I still talk to them, though,” Crocodile corrects. 

“Fine, (Y/n)!” Mihawk huffs. 

“They don’t count.” 

“Why don’t they?” Mihawk crosses his arms. 

“Because we all see them every day in this office,” Crocodile chides Mihawk. “Name someone.” 

“Okay, I guess I cannot name anyone,” Mihawk relents. “Not that it matters in the slightest, by the way. This is a silly and pointless little game.” 

“See? No one is gonna vote for you!” Buggy laughs. 

“I guess I should kill you now, Buggy,” Mihawk says as he draws Yoru. 

“Gaaaahhh! No! Please don’t!” Buggy cries, latching onto you for safety. 

“Buggy, please let go,” you sigh. The clown does so shakily and you begin to write on the paper in your clipboard. “Okay… Buggy, Crocodile, Mihawk. There we go. I’ll go around and ask, then. See you guys later.” 

“Before you go,” Crocodile begins. You turn to hear him out while he has a big shit-eating grin on his face. “If you’re going to talk to Mr. 3… knock before you enter.” 

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets from what this could mean as you nod and exit the office. 

“Why the hell did you say that?” Buggy questions. Crocodile chuckles, taking a puff from his cigar as he shakes his head. 

“Oh, they’ll see soon enough.” 

-

“Favorite head of Cross Guild?” An employee scratches his head. His coworker beside him does the same. 

“Wait, uh, they’re not gonna kill us for answering this, are they?” The other one asks. 

“Crap, you’re right. Is this some way to weed us out or something?” 

You shake your head. “No, no, not at all! This is just a… uh… thing they’re testing for some new merchandise,” you lie. 

“Ah,” the two men nod along. “That makes so much sense.” 

“Buggy,” the first man states. 

“Mmm… yeah, Buggy,” the second adds. “He never harps on us like Sir Crocodile.” 

You thank them for the response and tally it to the votes. 

“I guess Buggy was right,” you mumble to yourself, seeing as he currently had seven votes out of the seven people you asked. “Maybe we could send these results in to those cardmakers and get a cut of the merchandising.” 

Just as you’re about to walk away, Alvida strolls into the room. 

“Oh, Alvida! Good morning,” you smile at her. “Can I have a moment of your time?” “(Y/n), dear,” Alvida runs a hand through her hair. “What do you need from the most beautiful woman of the sea?” 

“Well, the higher-ups wanted to run a poll,” you show her the paper. “Please vote for your favorite head of Cross Guild.” 

She studies the paper for a moment and purses her lips. “Hmm… you know what, I vote for you.” 

“What?” 

“What? Just put a tally for you,” Alvida suggests nonchalantly. 

“But, um, I’m not a head of Cross Guild,” you argue. 

“So? You practically are their fourth one. I’m sure they won’t mind. And if they do, they can take it up with me,” Alvida brushes your concerns aside and takes the pen from you. She writes your name down and adds a tally. 

“Can I ask why you want to add me?” 

“Simple, dear.” Alvida chuckles. “You’re not like those brutes upstairs. You get worked to the bone by them yet still retain your own sense of self. Do you know what that is?” 

“No, I don’t think I know what that is-” 

“Passion!” Alvida throws her arms in the air. “You are passionate, clean, stylish, and most of all, you are quiet! If anyone is worthy of my vote and attention- it is you!” 

“Wow, thank you,” you comment, impressed that Alvida actually gave you a nice compliment. 

“Yes, yes, well, what do you think about becoming my assistant instead of working for them?” Alvida winks. 

“Ah sorry, I’m pretty happy where I am right now,” you quickly shut down. Alvida clicks her tongue. 

“Hm… perhaps you’d prefer to be my partner instead? You would be a good match by my side.” 

“Would you look at the time!” You awkwardly laugh. “Bye, Alvida!” 

“Bye, darling. Don’t worry though, we’ll pick this conversation up another time~,” she waves. You sigh in relief as you walk away that she didn’t mace you immediately. Still, there’s work to be done. 

You walk into the staff lounge and greet the other members there, who cheerfully greet you back. 

“Sorry to bother you guys, but if you could just fill out this poll, that would be great. And don’t worry, no one will know of the results, so please be as honest as you can!” 

The clipboard gets passed along by the staff members, who quickly add a tally mark to the poll. In less than a minute, all twenty people in the lounge have responded. 

“Wow, thank you guys. You guys are quick,” you joke, taking back the clipboard. 

“The choice was obvious,” one of the employees answers, and the others nod. You wonder who they voted for when you look at the paper, only to see your name has now over twenty marks attached to it. Your eyes widen and you politely thank the others as you step out of the room. 

It was one thing when Alvida did as she pleased, but now the others were voting for you in droves. You took a deep breath. Crocodile, Mihawk, and Buggy surely wouldn’t kill you for this, would they? After all, Alvida herself said they could bring it up with her. Yeah, that was okay. This was just a silly joke anyways. 

You continue to collect polls, feeling touched yet also nervous when you found that every employee had checked you off as their favorite. It got so bad that you had to use a second page to collect all the tallies that the employees were adding to your name. 

As the number of employees left to ask dwindled, you remembered to get Daz Bones and Galdino’s polls. You figured the choice would be clear for them- Crocodile. After all, they were very loyal to him and even continued their work relationship into Cross Guild. It would also allow for Crocodile to at least get some vote from his current tally at zero. 

You had scoured for them all around the base, but didn’t find any sign of their presence. Just as you were about to give up, you found Daz Bones peacefully sitting, probably waiting for his next assignment. 

“Daz! Can I-” 

“(Y/n), I have no interest,” he cut you off. 

“It’s for Crocodile,” you add, knowing he wouldn’t participate otherwise. Daz nods and then urges you to step closer. You show him the clipboard and he raises a brow. 

“Crocodile really cares about this sort of thing?” 

��It’s mostly because of Buggy,” you explain, and Daz nods, connecting the dots. He quickly tallies a mark to Crocodile’s name. “Thank you, Daz!” 

“You’re welcome,” he gruffly responds. 

“Oh, and do you know where Galdino is?” 

“Why should I know? Perhaps he’s in his room,” Daz shrugs. You should’ve guessed that but wave goodbye and walk to Galdino’s room. You’re about to knock when you remember Crocodile’s ominous warning echoing in your head again. 

“Knock before you enter…” 

You were going to do that anyways, but the weird way Crocodile said it made you grimace. You nervously rapped your knuckles against Galdino’s door. You heard a huff and a lot of grumbling as Galdino swung open the door. 

“What do you w-,” he angrily yells until he gasps when he sees it’s you. “(Y/n)! Ah! Uh! Please excuse me!” 

You briefly notice a large wax statue on the table before Galdino slams the door on your face. You jump when you hear Galdino freaking out and throwing things around his studio. Something metal is grating against the floor as you hear Galdino struggle to move the obviously heavy object. 

“G-Galdino? Is this a bad time?” You call out. 

“No, no, no! It’s fine! Perfectly fine! Hahaha there’s nothing weird going on here!” Galdino answers from inside his room as something crashes to the floor and Galdino swears. 

It’s silent for a moment until Galdino opens the door, leaning against the frame and trying to give you a charming smile while some wax is now splattered against his pants and shirt. 

“So, (Y/n), what brings you to my studio?” He asks while forcing his voice to sound lower, pushing up his glasses. 

“Ah, the heads wanted to take a little poll. Mind answering?” 

“Anything for- I mean-,” Galdino coughs and lowers his voice again. “Anything for you, (Y/n).” 

He takes the clipboard from you and begins to notice the options, quickly marking a tally next to your name. 

“There you go- wait a minute!” He looks horrified as realization sets in that there’s only one tally next to Crocodile- most likely Daz, he thinks. Crocodile would absolutely know right away that Galdino didn’t choose him, and the thought makes Galdino nearly pass out. “I-I need to change my vote!” 

“Sure,” you give the clipboard back to him and Galdino scribbles over the one he gave you to mark one next to Crocodile. 

“Kh... but we’re supposed to be honest…” Galdino mutters. He glances at you, and seeing you patiently waiting and smiling at him makes his heart tighten. 

Gah! Who am I supposed to choose?! My muse or my boss?!

“Are you alright, Galdino?” You asked, making Galdino struggle to form words. Instead, he scribbled over the mark he put next to Crocodile and re-marked a tally next to your name. 

He hands the clipboard back to you and you smile and wave to him. “Thank you, Galdino!” 

“Y-you’re very welcome!” Galdino shouts, unable to control his voice properly around you. You turn around and head back to the office while Galdino lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

He was most likely going to die after this, but seeing your smile was all worth it. He could die happy, even knowing that Crocodile would probably drain him of life later. 

You, however, didn’t notice the longing look Galdino gave you as you open the door to the office. 

“Well, I got all the votes!” 

“Well, who won?” Buggy immediately jumps forward and steals the clipboard from you. He notices that Crocodile and Mihawk hardly have any, with only Crocodile have a mark. “See I wo…” 

His face darkened as he noticed he had only seven votes. 

“What’s the matter, Buggy?” Crocodile smirked. “Can’t handle the fact you lost?” 

“I… wha…” Buggy grips the clipboard roughly, nearly snapping it in half. “How the hell did (Y/n) get all the votes!?” 

Crocodile and Mihawk are caught off guard. 

“Wait, what? (Y/n) won?” Crocodile repeated. 

“I thought I told you to be fair and not cheat!” Mihawk accused you, his golden hawk eyes glaring into yours. 

“I-it wasn’t my fault! Alvida was the one who put my name on the list!” You try to defend yourself. 

“Give me that-” Crocodile snaps as he swipes the poll from Buggy’s hand. Crocodile grunts as he notices page after page marked with tallies from the employees choosing you. He sees Mihawk has none, but that his name has one mark (Daz, of course), and one crossed off (that bastard, Galdino-). Given Crocodile’s attentiveness, he does recognize that yours and Alvida’s handwriting is different, so your story is credible. He huffs and tosses the clipboard, making Mihawk lean over curiously. 

“Not even one vote…” he murmurs. 

Buggy, meanwhile, is distraught, crying on the floor and banging it repeatedly. 

“It’s not fair! Not fair at all! I hate this! I’m the star!” Buggy wails out loud. 

At first, Crocodile did this as a joke to satiate Buggy, but even his own ego is hurt by this new poll. 

“I take it back, you’re getting docked again,” Crocodile threatens, pointing his cigar at you. 

“What?! But I spent all day getting this with the promise of money!” 

“I changed my mind! I wanted a good poll, not whatever the hell this was!” Crocodile yells back. 

“Recount! Recount this!” Buggy shouts. 

“I refuse to lose this competition. Give me an hour, I will win this,” Mihawk says, pushing himself off his couch as he walks out the door to do who knows what. 

The ensuing commotion causes some of the Cross Guild members to peek through the door and watch Buggy screaming in agony at losing while you’re sobbing at the fact you’re losing money due to this dumb poll. 

Alvida rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. 

“Would you guys cut this noise out? It’s driving me mad!” 

“Alvida! This is all your fault!” Buggy yells at Alvida in tears. “I was supposed to win, not (Y/n)!” 

Alvida frowns at Buggy and twirls her mace in her hands. “Are you questioning my decisions?” 

Buggy gulps as he sees the mace casting a shadow over him. 

“N-no, not at all!” He quickly corrects himself, praying Alvida will not maim him to death. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #sir crocodile x reader #cross guild #cross guild x reader #cross guild's day off #x reader #reader insert

[venusbby]

i just feel like being itoshi rin's bestfriend is a whole new experience.

there is something about being rin's closest person that brings you a feeling of warmth and pride altogether. knowing each other for years, you were aware that the mighty itoshi rin was selective when it came to people he wanted to spend time with. sure, he had many friends, he was a professional player after all- but even he can't help but admit that nobody could compare with you.

maybe it's because to him, you aren't really a friend at all.

you're much more.

and he definitely does not want to admit that. so he does not.

you, on the other hand, have a hard time trying to figure it all out. one part of you thought in a more simple way.

he's just closer with me because we've known each other for so long, that's all it is.

and then there's the other part of you that is greedy and aching and yearning to get some sort of sign that he's interested.

you're not expecting much. this is itoshi rin we're talking about. he just doesn't do any of that stuff. it's crazy that you're even thinking about the topic of dating when all these years you haven't heard a single word from him about having a simple crush on someone. but again, this is itoshi rin. he doesn't say the things he doesn't want to say. he doesn't show the feelings that he doesn't want to show.

you scolded yourself every year for not getting over your little crush on your bestfriend. unfortunately for you, it went on increasing until your heart was overflowing with care and adoration for a guy who seemed absolutely clueless about romance and the wildly trending best friends to lovers trope in almost every recent book or movie.

in your case, the best friends to lovers trope feels a little less sad because rin never really showed any interest in other people.

oh, little did you know. but you're still glad that the person writing your story didn't pour the cup full of jealousy into your life.

it's almost comical how stupid the both of you are.

a hopeless romantic and her hopelessly unaware bestfriend.

the stupidity goes for a few more months. sneaky glances, touches that feel like a spark, those short words of affection that rin manages when you're at the lowest and oh, the birthday.

the stupidity finally stops at rin's birthday.

ten minutes left to 12 AM. you were trying to drive as slowly and as patiently as you could to rin's apartment. arriving early would just ruin the surprise. you needed to get out of the car when there were just 8 minutes left, so that by the time you reached the high floor of the apartment complex it would leave you with 5 minutes to prepare yourself and the box of cake in your sweaty hands, waiting outside his door. then you would enter when there's just a minute left.

only rin deserved this type of difficult and serious planning.

you felt the pride for being able to think so much and felt extremely smart for calculating this plan accurately. however, the feelings were quick to drain out and be replaced by nervousness.

he wouldn't be mad, no. you just didn't want to make him feel awkward.

rin never really made a big deal about his birthdays. that never stopped him from letting his teammates and friends from blue lock enjoy the day, though. every year, he booked some place they could spend time, eat, drink, party, whatever. he didn't care much, just watched bachira and isagi wreck havoc. as long as he had you sitting next to him, laughing at his friends' antics, he was okay. he also liked seeing you happy. his chest bloomed with some unfamiliar feeling every time you said that you were happy because he was happy.

one minute left.

you quietly entered with the spare key rin had given you.

for emergencies.

somehow birthdays counted, right?

the lights were off, and you felt a little dumb. it would be really embarrassing if rin wasn't even home. maybe even more embarrassing if rin didn't expect you to come at all and told you to go back home or something.

from the living room, you could still see rays of faint warm light making its way into the hallways, escaping through the doorway of his bedroom. judging by the low sound effects, you guessed he was watching another movie or tv show.

one thing your dumbass forgot to plan. how the heck were you supposed to call him into the living room without scaring him?

fuck it, you thought.

"rin, im home, come out here please." you tried, trying your best to sound as less alerting as you could, hoping you didn't scare the guy. from the way the sound of the movie quickly stopped after your voice, you grimaced.

quick, heavy footsteps followed as itoshi rin entered his living room. his expression was a mix between a scowl and a frown- a face only he could make. you paused before you could even try to explain.

paired with the handsome, annoyed face was the absence of a shirt.

what were you going to say again?

well, it didn't matter. rin spoke before you could even adjust to the unfamiiar view.

"what the fuck."

"uh, look-" you managed.

"no, what the actual fuck."

you pursed your lips in an attempt to put your mind to work, to come up with something- anything. those teal eyes felt vibrant even in the darkness of the living room with just more of the golden light from his room passing through- because of the bedroom door now being opened all the way. you shifted from one foot to another. he continued to stare, his eyes slowly travelling down to the cake you were holding.

"happy birthday."

itoshi rin, your bestfriend, exhaled.

two strides and he was standing right in front of you, expression unreadable, and maybe you were hallucinating, because in the slight darkness you thought you saw him smile.

"y/n, you're insane." he breathed out, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. rin's face felt a little warm when he realized how he looked in this situation. this is by far the most out of pocket thing you've done, in his opinion.

for you though, this reaction was somewhat better than what you'd expected. you bit your lip to hold back a smile and set the box down on the neatly kept coffee table next to you. "i might be."

it was already three minutes past twelve. but you didn't care anymore.

while you carefully removed the cake out and placed it on the table, rin turned the lights on, still not recovered from your sudden appearance.

"shit," you realized when the brightness of the light hit your eyesight, "i forgot the fucking candles in the car. sorry."

now as unbelievable as it sounds, it was rin's turn to hold back a smile as he muttered quietly, "stupid."

it was even harder to focus on the cake without candles in front of you, when itoshi rin was sitting next to you on the couch, shirtless.

silence filled the room, and none of you made a move.

why would you do anything anyway? wasn't it rin's job to cut the cake?

apparently, you seemed more interesting than the cake, because rin was staring at you instead. you stuttered underneath his gaze. "what, you want me to sing the song for you?"

he huffed, attempting to fix his hair so he could stop thinking about your sleepy eyes. god damn it. he didn't know how to deal with this, with the erratic beating of his heart.

"thanks. for this."

itoshi rin was malfunctioning. and you were the cause for that.

to that, you managed a genuine smile. it was nice to hear.

"it's nothing. i did it because i care." you said quietly, fiddling with your fingers, eyes focused on the cake. you don't think you can handle looking at him. it might tempt you to pour out all your feelings. you could save them for another day, just not his birthday.

the mess of your hair kept together by a hairband, your heavy eyelids and the nervous fumbling of your fingers, rin knew you meant more. you wouldn't do so much for him despite being so tired if you just cared. there was only one option he had, to show you how thankful he was.

you're out of your short anxious trance when his bare, strong arms slowly but confidently pulled you into him.

the shock doesn't last for long and you find yourself melting in his embrace, face resting against his shoulder as your arms made their way to his back, to hold him tighter.

the cake must be satisfied with this outcome as well because it doesn't complain as you both stay in the same position for quite a few minutes.

rin felt your breath against his collarbone and sighed.

"stay the night. i can tell you're tired."

you don't deny it, but still whisper, "let's eat the cake first."

he finally let out a soft chuckle, feeling relieved that you couldn't see him as he mumbled something along the lines of "that's why i love you."

wait.

did he say love?

#itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi brothers #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock headcanons #blue lock manga #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n

[ad0rechuu]

ᝰ MY OH MY. ━━ (000) prologue: the next bet

WORD COUNT. 837

WARNINGS. swearing ofc! mentions of alcohol/weed, violence, crying and yn isn’t being respected

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

POUNDING MUSIC AND FLASHING LIGHTS.

It wasn’t impressive at all. It was just another frat party on another Friday night with the same people that were drinking their worries away in the same massive frat house, celebrating the weekend.

Sunwoo sighed as he looked around the dance floor, earning a couple of confused looks when they noticed his uncharacteristically annoyed expression. He was never one to be a party pooper, often ending up the main entertainment after a few too many drinks. But this time, alcohol wasn’t close to crossing his mind.

He threw his cup in his friend's hand as soon as he heard the infuriating news by two fratbros in passing.

No matter how many times he scanned the room for the outfit you so graciously showed off to him on your way to the party, you were absolutely nowhere to be seen. Panic settled in as he maneuvered his way between wasted people to get to the stairs.

His hands rested on his knees after he reached the top, catching his breath while still frantically looking around.

In the corner of his eye he saw the back of a familiar figure going around the corner at the very end of the long hallway. Sunwoo quickly shot up as he followed you, finally finding you in front of an open door to a random room.

“Where the hell—” He started with a loud voice the moment he met your eyes.

You shushed him and quickly grabbed the front his shirt, pulling him closer and out of sight of whoever was inside of the room.

When you were sure he wasn’t going to attract any unwanted attention, you leaned closer to the door frame. Sunwoo followed you actions and leaned over your shoulder.

“Dude! I can’t believe you got her to date you! Isn’t she really cold?” Someone laughed, the smell of cheap weed hitting you two.

A sting pierced your already rapidly beating heart when you heard the second voice.

“Actually she pretty sweet.” He responded. “But when am I getting my money? All I had to do was ask her out and kiss her right?”

Sunwoo felt his cheeks heat up out of anger at their words.

The familiar faces laughed again as your so-called ‘boyfriend’ made a money sign with his free hand.

Someone else piped up, “You would get 64000 won for the bet right? Let me up the scale!”

“What are you thinking?” Yeonjun took a sip of his beer and leaned forward, intrigued by his friend's suggestion.

Even just that simple action made your blood boil. You felt Sunwoo try to get passed you, probably to yell at them. But you kept him in place with a stern look. No matter how much it might hurt, you had to hear what the next bet was going to be.

For your own sanity.

“Make Yn fall in love with you! If you can get her to say ‘I love you’ to you first, before the school year ends, I’ll give you 128010 won plus the 64000 won he owes you.” His friend stuck out his hand in Yeonjun's direction, smirking. “That is if you can actually do it.”

Yeonjun’s eyes sparkled with a competitiveness that you used to think was love as he calculated the numbers in his head. “That’s like 150 dollars! I’ll take that bet!”

“She already likes me and I have plenty of time, this will be piece of cake! Say goodbye to your money, Tae!” He cackled, unknowingly breaking your already fragile heart.

Not being able to bear hearing anymore of their crude words about you, you stormed off, leaving a boiling Sunwoo standing there, stunned at their behavior.

Sunwoo was never a fighter. The few times he did get in fights, he was black out drunk and got his ass handed to him nearly right away. But after seeing your expression, he wanted nothing more than to go inside of that room and beat his so-called ‘friend’ to a pulp. His adrenaline told him he could do it.

But he didn’t. He knew you wouldn’t want that. And instead of more worries, you just needed him to be there for you. So he quickly followed you down stairs.

When you both reached the ground floor, he had finally caught up with you. He grabbed your hand to stop you in your tracks and gently turned you to him. Heavy black mascara stained your face and your cheeks were hot from emotion as you avoided his worried eyes.

He could feel his own heart break just at the mere sight of you like this.

Forcing himself to give you a small smile, he held your hand in his and led you out of the big, crowded house, not caring about anybody but you in the moment.

Although Sunwoo didn’t get to beat Yeonjun up as he wished, he was sure that you two would get revenge on the campus's pretty boy for what he did to you.

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NOTES. (make sure to check out the previous chapter for the profiles if u haven’t already) yeonjun and txt are assholes i’m sorry but there is always more than meets the eye (or is there? 🤨) also sunwoo the yn protect lol BUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave lots of feedback i really need it esp on the written chapters and it keeps me motivated (not just with some with all writers)

TAGLIST. @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @starryunho @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @felixsramen @aapplepii @juhakutie @gyumibear @alixnsuperstxr @atinyinateezverse @nyukyujs @yunho-mp3 @blueresides @shakalakaboomboo @haechology @ahnneyong @atinycafe @i-luvsang @nasangel

#ᝰ MY OH MY — smau #ad0rechuu — works #the boyz #the boyz series #the boyz kim sunwoo #the boyz sunwoo #the boyz smau #the boyz social media au #sunwoo #kim sunwoo #sunwoo smau #sunwoo social media au #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #the boyz x black reader #sunwoo au #the boyz au #the boyz fake texts #yeonjun x reader #kpop social media au #kpop smau

[iwannasuckyourmonstercock]

Never too much

TW: Sugar Daddy Hongjoong, smut, degradation, feelings at the end and a bit of dark obsessive Hongjoong

First Dior, than Prada, after that came Gucci and last but not least Chanel.

It was the usual routine you took on your shopping day. At some point it was getting exhausting so you also had a quick stop to grab a coffee or a coke - which was really necessary most times.

The man that paid for those weekly shopping tours would be evaluating the things you had bought at the end of the day.

He made your life better in ever aspect. First of all he had given you a black card. Honestly you could buy a whole mansion and he wouldn’t complain as long as it was good enough in his opinion. But you wouldn’t do that. You paid your rent with it, your groceries, the stuff you needed for university and last but not least the expensive clothing that he expected you to wear for him every week.

And you knew not to disappoint him.

“Hmm… Turn around again.” He said, arms crossed as he sat in front of you.

You let out a small sigh but still complied. The last thing you wanted was to piss him off.

“The shoes fit you perfectly. You know I love Stilettos and the color is very complimenting to your skin.” He praised you softly and a smile crept in your face.

God, pleasing him felt way too good.

“But the dress is trash. I don’t like how it is made. The fabric looks so cheap and it is way too short. Are you a slut or what? It’s such a waste of money.” He than said with a click of his tongue as he finally stood up. “Look at me.”

Oh no. You honestly thought the dress was super cute. It was black, had a lot of lace and the straps had cute bows. It was simple but still nice

Slowly you lifted your gaze from the floor to meet his hard gaze. With calculating steps he crept closer to you.

“Mr. Kim, I thought you’d like it… you said you love my thighs so I didn’t want to-“

“Did I ask? It’s sweet that you tried to please me but I wanted to take you out for dinner tonight. Which is something I clearly can’t do anymore now.”

Your heart stopped for a second and you bit your lip. He wanted to take you out for dinner? Hongjoong hadn’t been in public with you yet. Every single one of your meetings had been in private. And he had stated in the beginning that he wanted to keep it that way. Hell, he even made you sign a stupid contract that you wouldn’t tell the public about you two.

And honestly it was more than fine for you. You’d buy pretty clothes, wear them for him and he’d blow your back out. Than you could live your lavish life for another week before you’d meet him again.

You opened your mouth to say something but he shushed you with his finger. Hongjoong was dangerously close to you by now.

“But you don’t want that, right? Rather be treated like a cheap slut and than go out and have dinner with other guys, huh?” He asked, his hand cupping your chin now as he pulled you closer.

“I saw you. Don’t think you can go around and sleep with others and I won’t know it. I know everything and I see everything.”

His words were dangerous and you gulped.

Of course you knew what this whole scene was about. When you went out for dinner for your friends birthday. Wooyoung had always been a very good friend and you wanted to treat him a little. And you could do so with the little black card the man in front of you had given to you. Conveniently Hongjoong had a business meeting that day in the very same restaurant you had taken Wooyoung to. But you thought it didn’t bother him as he had just texted you to enjoy your meal.

Honestly you couldn’t even be mad that he was accusing you of sleeping with Wooyoung now. Your friend was very touchy and you knew it.

To be fair, there were some weak and drunken moments were you two started making out. But it never went anywhere and neither of you had any romantic feelings for the other. And after being with Hongjoong you wouldn’t even need to have any other man besides him. Nor did you have the time for that.

“Probably even paid for that damn meal with my money. The audacity you have is incredible.” He chuckled darkly. One of his hands found your hip now and the other your throat.

“It’s not like tha-“ you began but your words were silenced as he began to choke you a little.

“Spare your words. You won’t get out of that now. Get on your knees, sweetheart and I might be able to forgive you.” He spat and loosened his grip on you before he went to sit down on the couch again. He spread his legs and put his arms on the back of the couch.

No more words were exchanged but you didn’t need to know more. You quickly made your way to him before you got on your knees before him, your shoes still on. It hurt a little to sit like that with shoes on but it was okay. He liked the shoes after all.

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes, a soft pout on your lips. Your hands slowly slid down his thighs and you began to work on the zipper of his pants. His hand stopped yours and you noticed how his eyes softened a little.

“Color?” “Green, Sir.”

He nodded and let you continue, leaning back in relaxation. Your heart fluttered a little. No matter what he would do, always made sure that you were enjoying it as well and that it wasn’t too much for you.

“Don’t fucking tease. I’m irritated enough already.” He than told you harshly as he noticed how you were taking your sweet time with his pants.

You nodded and quickly worked to get his pants and his boxers down. Softly you bit your lip when you saw how hard he was already.

So after all he did like the dress, huh?

Your hand wrapped around the base of his dick as you slowly began kiss the head and started to kitten lick it.

“Don’t. Tease.” He breathed out now, his dick painfully hard by now already.

Quickly you wrapped your lips around him and flattened your tongue out before you began with sucking him off. It was never wise to push him too far but you still loved teasing him. Normally he would like that too but not today. Today he wanted you to do everything he told you - and teasing wasn’t something he told you to do.

His hand caressed your hair before he gripped it a little, holding it loosely. He didn’t want to force you down on his length - not yet.

So you did your best to please him, pulling every trick you knew. You hollowed your cheeks out, pushing your head down but only so much so you wouldn’t choke. With your hand you stroke the rest of his length that you couldn’t take into your mouth.

Hongjoong threw his head back, teeth biting his lip a little. The sight was really godly. You loved sucking him off until he came for you.

But you knew that wouldn’t occur tonight. Not when he was punishing you. As much as you wanted to deny it, it was hot how jealous he was. And also… reassuring?

You couldn’t deny the feelings that had bubbles up whenever you two would cuddle after an intense session. And you also couldn’t deny that the talks you had after were deeper than what his silly contract had foreseen.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted as Hongjoong pulled on your hair, reminding you of the work you had to do.

Normally he loved using you (and you loved being used) but today he just laid back, enjoying the sight in front of him as much as you enjoyed the sight in front of you.

Eagerly you continued sucking him off - until he suddenly pulled you off, shaking his head.

“This won’t do. Dolly, I can’t keep looking at this dress.” He said, before leaning down and ripping it right at the front before ripping it completely off of you.

“Much better. At least your choice of underwear is good.” He grinned, spreading his legs a bit now.

“Over the table, dolly.” He than ordered and you were quick to obey.

Your upper body was bend over the small table in front of the couch while you were still kneeling. Than you pushed your butt out a little for him, thinking that you’ll get what you wanted all along.

“A-h! Sir!” You yelped when a harsh slap was delivered to your bottom.

Hongjoong just chuckled before raising his hand again and slapping it once again.

“You should see how you look from here. You look like the desperate little slut you are.” He snickered before giving you five more slaps.

Your bottom was red by now and tears were running down your cheeks. The rings he always wore were no joke when he was in a mood like that.

“H-urts…” you whimpered when you felt another slap.

“I know. My heart hurt too when I saw you going around with that silly boy. But he could never satisfy you the way I do, huh? Because a little dolly like you needs a man, right?” He asked you with a small pout.

“Y-es, yes sir! I need you and I only want you!” You confessed to him. “Please now… please…”

“Please now, please… you sound so fucking pathetic.” He snorted but pushed your panty to the side.

A gasp left your lips when he pushed two fingers inside. You didn’t even realize how horny the blowjob you had given him had left you. But he was quick to add a third finger, leaving you a moaning mess in front of him.

A smirk formed in his devilish handsome face and he shook his head. With his fingers he kept set a rather fast pace, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out a little.

“Already falling apart from my fingers, huh?” He chuckled.

Oh, how he loved it. How little effort he had to put up just to see you fall apart for him. He did exactly what it needed for you to be turned into a mess and it was exactly what he needed tonight.

But he didn’t have much patience tonight, rather quickly pulling his fingers out just for you to push your bottom to him and whining about the loss.

“Need you to fill me up, sir… please!”

Hongjoong nodded, holding your hips with one hand and taking the other to spread your lips apart so he could push in easier.

As he bottomed out the both of you let out a moan.

“Tight little slut…” he mumbled, closing his eyes. For a moment he stayed still, giving you time to adjust to his length. At least that’s what he would say. In reality he was still sensitive from the blowjob and had to give himself time so he wouldn’t immediately come.

He spread soft kisses on your neck, loving the soft feeling against his lips.

Than he started moving, starting off with slow but powerful thrusts.

The room was filled with filthy sounds of skin slapping on skin and your sinful moans. He didn't show any mercy, using your body to get rid of his frustration.

And you let him. Gladly, with how good he was making you feel. His cock was filling you up perfectly, his tip was rubbing against the spot that made your head feel dizzy and that only he was able to reach. "Enjoying your punishment a little too much?" he asked with a huff.

He stopped for a moment and grabbed a pillow from the couch, placing it in front of you and pressing your face right into it. Your makeup would probably leave stains but he didn't care. Than he grabbed your hands and pulled them behind your back, holding them there with one hand. "If you enjoy it that much than I should think about making you my little toy. I'd keep you around me all the time and fuck you whenever I like. Or use your cute little pussy to keep my dick warm. How would you like that?" he asked you and let out a dark chuckle as he could feel your walls tighten around him. "Of course you like it, my cute little whore." His degrading words always sent tingles straight to your lower body. At first you didn't want to admit it but by now you have come to terms with it. Why deny yourself the pleasure? Especially when you knew that he didn't mean it.

Soft moans left your lips as he delivered another slap to your cheek, pulling your hair so you had to look at him.

“I’m gonna invite that fucking *boy* and show him how I treat you. Bet his eyes would fall out when he sees you come, cause he never even got close to get you to, hmh?” He grinned, grabbing your face in his hand while leaning forward and kissing you roughly, his tongue driving into your open mouth.

Tears were falling out of your eyes at this point. As he kissed you he stilled inside of you, his cockhead pushing right against that sweet spot that always felt *so good* when he brushed against it. You knew he did that on purpose.

Hongjoong let you go, smirking as he saw drool running down your mouth. He pushed your head into the table again, admiring the way your ass was stuck out for him, bouncing every time he thrusted inside.

One of his arms snaked around your torso, quickly finding your clit as he rubbed it just the way that had your legs shaking.

“I-I’m gonna come! D-addy please!” You begged him, making him chuckle.

“You think you deserve it? After being such a slut? You’re so greedy, really. But I won’t let you. It seems I’ve been too good to you and what did I earn through that? A whore that lets other men that don’t even give her half of what I do fuck her? Tell me, am I not enough?” He asked, his hand removed from your clit now and his cock stilled inside you.

A whine left your lips. You had been so close! Slowly you pushed your ass back and forth in him, desperately trying to come.

“N-o… Daddy, you’re everything I need please! I’d never let another man touch me, I’m only yours so please… fuck me…” you assured him, whining as he began to thrust into you lazily again, holding your hips to keep you from moving anymore.

Your words assured him a little. Hongjoong knew he was a man that could have every woman he wanted. But as much as he wanted to deny it - he had gotten quiet fond of you. And while he knew it wasn’t fair he still wanted you all to himself. He wanted you to only think of him, only talk to him and only be with him.

Sometimes he had even thought about moving you in with him - but he knew it would scare you. It would make you run away. He knew you stayed for the money, and for the sex.

But it assured him that you said you were his. And it *turned him on too*.

“Yes, You’re right. You’re only *my* slut to fuck. Only *my* little dolly. No one else can touch you.” He growled, slapping your ass again to watch it jiggle as he picked up his pace.

His hips thrusted into you in an insane speed, making you let your head fall down on your arms and moan out for him.

“Yes! Yes! Only yours! Please, let me come…!” You cried out, not able to take another ruined orgasm tonight.

Hongjoong hummed, his fingers again starting to work on your clit, alternating from rubbing small circles to just directly rub on it back and forth.

“Cream my cock. Come on. Want to feel my dolly clench around me.” He whispered into your ear.

It didn’t take more for you to let go, coming hard on his cock while he fucked you through it.

As he felt your tight walls clench around him he came too - pushing deep into you and spilling his seed inside you.

Slowly he pulled out, watching as his come dribbled out before he collected it with his fingers, pushing it right back in. Maybe it would finally knock you up and he could keep you forever? He would do everything just to keep you after all.

“My little slut…” he mumbled, softly rubbing your sore ass.

A whine left your lips as he pulled his fingers out of your overstimulated pussy again. You looked back, only to see the delicious sight of him cleaning his finger with his mouth.

“I’ll get a towel, wait a minute.” He told you softly, a fond smile on his lips as he came back not much later with a wet towel. He cleaned your pussy up, before picking you up.

“Was i too rough? Your ass is so red…” he told you, a little worried.

You shook your head, your arms wrapping around his neck and nuzzling into his shoulder.

“No, was really good…” you mumbled.

Hongjoong helped you shower, before dressing you in one of his shirts and wrapping you in his blanket and giving you some water.

“So you are jealous?” You asked softly, making Hongjoong avoid your eyes.

“I’m…” he gulped.

He was. Because he fucking cared. If he would ever be man enough to tell you? To just really take you out on a proper date instead of just fucking you in every spot in his expensive apartment? Maybe one day.

After all you were his inspiration. And he couldn’t deny that the dark thoughts he had sometimes were rooted in feelings he had for you.

But the words wouldn’t leave his lips so he only shook his head.

You knew something was wrong but decided not to push it. The arrangement was nice at it was after all - and he had made it clear from the start that he didn’t like you sleeping with other guys as he was afraid of STIs or STDs. Which was fair.

So you just laid in his arms, closing your eyes.

Maybe one day you’d be able to break this off - to save your heart. A man like him could never love you after all. He had made that clear from the start.

So you both just enjoyed the silence, wondering if you would ever have the courage to act on the feelings you had for each other - or the courage to break it off.

But for now you were both too scared to act on it.

#ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut #kpop #hongjoong #kimhongjoong #Hongjoong smut #Kim Hongjoong #ateez hongjoong smut #smut #sugar daddy Hongjoong

[jjkamochoso]

I’ll (TV) Show You How Much I Care

Teen!Nanami x gn!reader

Fluff

Request for @patpatspatz : Young Nanami and reader watch a tv show together!

Warnings: none

You anxiously tapped your pencil against your chin as you watched the clock tick slow as molasses. You couldn’t wait until class was out of session. You and your boyfriend Kento Nanami were having a cozy night in tonight and you were beyond excited. It had been awhile since the two of you were able to spend quality time together so you wanted to do it right. You knew your plans were simple, cuddling while watching your favorite show, but you still needed to tidy up your dorm and go to the store to get snacks. When your teacher finally excused the class, you gathered your things quickly, wanting to waste no time. In your haste, you sent your calculator flying across your desk and began its descent to the floor. It probably would’ve broken on contact if not for the large hand that appeared out of thin air and grabbed it before it touched the ground.

“For you,” said your blonde savior, handing it back to you. You giggled a bit. Nanami was always so serious, even in matters of classroom mishaps. That was one of the reasons you were drawn to him, though. His mature personality was a rarity amongst high schoolers and you considered yourself lucky that someone like him wanted to be with you.

“Thank you Kento. I was thinking you could come over tonight at like 8:30? I was hoping to have you earlier but I still have to get food and clean my dorm.”

“I’ll get the snacks and you clean. Then I can see you sooner.”

You blushed at his words, happy that he was just as excited to hang out with you as you were with him. You nodded in agreement and you two went separate ways to get ready for date night.

A few hours later, both you and your dorm were freshly cleaned. Nanami had texted you that he was on his way over to your room with the food and you were giddy, getting your big fluffy blankets ready for snuggling. He finally knocked on your door and you helped him with the food he brought, laying it out on the table near your couch. When everything was organized, you finally gave him a proper hello with a long, passionate kiss. You had your arms wrapped around his neck while he rested his hands on your waist. Both of you had been waiting for this time alone and now that it was finally here, you were going to make the most of it. When you finally parted from the kiss, both panting slightly, you both wore warm smiles.

“Alright. Grab some snackies and let’s watch our show!” you exclaimed, getting a handful of packaged food and drinks and getting lost under the blankets. Nanami watched your antics with a shake of his head. He loved how you were sillier than he was because you taught him how to relax and have fun in moments like these. He selected a few less snacks and drinks than you did (it would be rude to grab an armful in someone else’s residence) and sat down next to you, careful not to land on your body or food items.

“Whatcha in the mood to watch?” you asked, remote in hand. Quite honestly, he wasn’t sure. He would be content staring at you all night if he could. However, he recognized that would be an inadequate answer to your question.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a… cooking show?”

Your eyes lit up.

“Yes! I love those! Do you want an intense one or more relaxed?”

“Relaxed please.”

“I know just the one,” you said, turning on The Great British Bake Off. Soon the dark room you were in was filled with the bright colors of delicious United Kingdom desserts. Even as the first bake of the show was done and he was throughly enjoying his time with you, he was still a bit rigid with his mannerisms—he was sitting up politely and had the blanket resting only up to his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to get as close to you as possible but he was still new to all this relationship and touchy feely stuff. Luckily, you weren’t afraid to initiate physical contact. You wanted to get as close to Nanami as physically possible—like the you-two-were-merged-as-one kind of close.

“C’mon over,” you said, patting the empty space next to your leg. Nanami hesitated a bit, but did what he was told. He was still too far from you for your liking, though.

“Kento. You can come closer. It’s okay, I don’t bite,” you said, laughing. “Unless that’s something you’re into.” You gave him a cheesy wink, making him turn his face away from you for a moment to gather his now frazzled thoughts.

“I don’t know why you say things like that,” he mumbled while you continued to laugh. You liked to get a rise out of him, he was cute when he was flustered. When you both settled down once more, you decided to make your move. You tapped him on the arm.

“Up.”

He obliged, interested to see what you were going to do with his lifted arm. You rested your blanket clad body against his chest and brought his arm back down around your shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you questioned and he answered with an immediate “yes.” He never knew he could feel so wanted, so loved, by partaking in something so simple.

“Good,” you whispered, eyes going back to the tv. Nanami cleared his throat nervously and got lost in the show as well. By the end of the show’s second bake, Nanami surprised you in two ways—one, he was able to relax with your touch instead of tensing up, and two, he was extremely judgmental when it came to cooking competitions. When an unfortunate looking cake came on screen, he audibly scoffed.

“I can’t believe he would send that up to be judged. What an embarrassment.”

“Oh? You could do better?” you mused.

“Actually, I believe I could,” he said, smugness all over his face.

“I’ll hold you to that, Nanami Kento. I think this weekend you’re going to make me the best Prinzregententorte this world has ever tasted.”

“I’ll be honored to make you such a dessert, but I can assure you, it won’t be any sweeter than you are.”

“Kento!” you said, playfully swatting his chest, “You’ve been holding out on me. You have serious game!” You both got lost in laughter once more. Nanami didn’t think he had “game” or “charisma” or anything of the sort; he just spoke the truth. There was nothing in this world sweeter than you, his partner, and you deserved to know that. After more snacks were devoured, drinks finished, and contestants eliminated, Nanami noticed you were uncharacteristically quiet. You had fallen asleep! He broke out into a smile, grateful that you were comfortable enough around him (and on him!) to be in such a restful state. He leaned over to press the power button on the remote, careful not to disturb you. Since he would literally rather die than wake you up, he knew he should try to fall asleep too. The last thing he did that night before sleeping was kiss the top of your head.

“I love you y/n,” he said, his words as quiet as your soft snores.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento fluff #nanami x you #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader fluff

[ivystoryweaver]

(Everybody's Waiting for) The Man With the Bag

This is your 2nd place poll winner, losing to Moon Dads/Hanukkah by only 9 votes!

Summary: Miguel wants to bring a little Christmas cheer to some kids who need it most

Word Count: 1050

Content: holiday/family angst with a bit of comfort, fluff-adjacent, longing, mentions of loss/death, (nothing you didn't see in the film), not beta'd.

The spider society was quiet.

As quiet as it ever got, anyway.

There were always lives to save - timelines to correct or salvage.

But it was Christmas.

Practically every timeline had some version of the holiday, and even now - after so much loss...after Miguel felt the weight of the universe pulling him apart like a thousand spiderwebs - he still remembered Christmas with is little girl.

Gabriella loved Christmas.

What child wouldn't love a pile of presents, too much sugar and staying up late? The troll of Christmas carols, hot cocoa, magical movies and twinkling lights...

But what Gab loved most was Santa Claus. Miguel assumed it was because he gave her presents, but she surprised him one Christmas Eve. She climbed up in his lap, ready to read The Night Before Christmas before being tucked into bed to wait for ol' St. Nick and said, "Daddy, I think Santa Claus is the best person in the whole world."

Miguel chuckled warmly, admiring how her chubby fingers traced the beautifully illustrated picture of the classic figure. "Why, because he brings you a bunch of stuff?"

"No," she softly replied, pointing to the huge bag he had flung over his back. "Because he gives so much away. Don't you think we should all be like that?"

Miguel's heart melted as he squeezed his daughter close. "Yeah, Gabs. We should."

Then he proved to be the complete opposite of Gabriella's hero, destroying her entire timeline.

Since then, Miguel made it his life's mission to not...overstep.

But it was Christmas.

This timeline's Gabriella lived in one of the poorest neighborhoods he'd ever seen. Miguel told himself not to get involved - he certainly knew better than to interfere directly with her life. He'd never learned a harder lesson.

But surely, it couldn't hurt to leave a Christmas present behind - a treasure that could simply be credited to Santa Claus.

Miguel got to work, collecting toys and locating a Santa suit to fit his impossibly large fame, since making himself an unstable molecule Santa suit seemed a tad excessive. At any rate, He was going to bring Christmas to this neighborhood.

This was, of course, after dozens of calculations between himself and Lyla, to make sure delivering a toy fire truck wouldn't obliterate a universe.

Miguel walked through a portal, discreetly, into Gabriella's low income neighborhood, late Christmas Eve, donned in head-to-toe red and white, with a pack of toys flung over his back.

He didn't quite have Santa's tummy, but hopefully a little padding would do the trick, should he be spotted.

His spider abilities made it pretty simple to dart in and out of houses undetected. He even sampled a cookie or two.

The he came to Gabriella's house. He saved her house for last, trying to work up the courage to be in her presence but not interact with her in any way.

The house was tiny and old, but clean. The cold, hard floors had been swept and the tables wiped recently. Dishes were handwashed and piled on the counter to dry. A plate of homemade cookies peeked out from their plastic wrap. There was love here.

The Christmas tree was more of an old, ragged bush, with glass ornaments with chipped paint and a few handmade offerings of popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners. A string of popcorn served as garland. No twinkling lights illuminated the darkness.

And the whole place was freezing.

Miguel pressed his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself not to interfere any more than he was about to. Reaching into his bag, he produced a copy of The Night Before Christmas, a warm winter blanket, a matching hat, scarf and gloves, and a soccer ball.

He set each item under the Charlie-Brown-worthy tree - the only gifts present, making sure they would be plainly visible to whoever woke first.

His eyes landed on a snapshot of Gabriella with her mother, and just when he thought he tempted fate enough for one evening, he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him.

"Ohhh, wow, Santa," the voice of Gabriella O'Hara made his heart completely stop.

Miguel squeezed his white gloved hands into fists, willing himself to not turn around and lay eyes on her, just one more time.

It wasn't her. She wasn't his - she never had been.

He could hear her sock covered feet shuffle closer. "I-is that you, Santa? Is it really you?"

Miguel cleared his throat, deepening his voice purposely. "Merry Christmas. You caught Santa just finishing up."

He heard her gasp, her giggle like a tinkling bell. "Oh, Santa, thank you so much. Thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome," he choked out. "Now, be a good girl and get back to sleep. Santa has a lot of presents to deliver."

"Okay," she breathlessly answered. "My friends told me you weren't real, but I just knew you were. I knew it."

The sound of her voice drifted closer. She stood directly behind him now. He had to get out of here.

"You're absolutely right. Back to bed now. Merry Christmas, Gabs."

She sucked in a breath, but didn't speak or move for several agonizing moments.

"Merry Christmas, Santa," she finally decided. And he heard the old, hard floor creak as she retreated.

But she paused one more time. "I think I know now," she declared from across the room. "You must be an angel. You sound just like my dad."

One tear slid down Miguel's cheek, soaked up by the cotton of his fake beard.

"Your dad is very proud of you," He choked out, gathering his bag, making sure he kept his back turned so she wouldn't see his face.

"Thank you, Santa. Or...whoever you are," she whispered, finally retreating to her room.

Miguel raggedly exhaled, tears burning his eyes as he left the house and made his way back through a multi-dimensional portal.

His Christmas Day would be spent not watching Gabriella wake up her mother, unwrap her presents, or maybe, talk about the Santa Claus who'd left them for her.

No, he was done intervening. A few simple gifts to help keep her warm - to bring a little cheer - it was enough for her.

And hearing her voice one more time was the best present he could have ever hoped for.

1k/Holiday Celebration Main Post

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dividers by saradika

#Miguel O'Hara #across the spiderverse #1000 followers #oscar isaac fic #holiday fic #holiday celebration #oscar isaac characters #celebration #1000 follower celebration #across the spiderverse fic #miguel o'hara fic #spider man 2099 #christmas fic

[paper-mario-wiki]

Your Trollsona is such a damn cool concept! I love the sheer insanity that the RPS unfolds into and I gotta ask, how does their Captchalogue and Fetch Modi work? Those are always another fun bonus way characters quirks are shown

Not quite!

The Sylladex object recovery and creation system is COMPLETELY separate from the RPS system.

Total mastery of the RPS fractal would be DESTRUCTIVELY OVERPOWERED, considering if you knew exactly how each object interacts with the other, you'd be able to instantly resolve any conflict with a single action no matter what. But this is near impossible because the RPS catalogue accounts for all possible concepts, not all possible objects. This is why a double-sided barcode is used instead of the typical hole punch system. You can't captchalogue a kick in the nose, after all.

Each line in the barcode represents a single binary digit. With each digit added, the amount of possible values goes up exponentially. Within only 10 lines in the barcode, 1024 values are possible. But what's even MORE exponentially gigantic is having it be double sided, because then it squares itself instead of just doubling itself. So a two-sided ticker tape with 10 bars on each side would be 1024^2, or 1,048,576 different values. And that's with a code that fits within the circumference of a nickel.

However, if you refer back to the gif with the ticker in it:

That's WAY more than a nickel's length.

And that’s an absolute necessity, because every possible concept must be accounted for. The system is pretty fucking wildly, multiversally, insanely gigantic. Hence the need for extremely dense data to get anywhere.

And even then, the bar code doesn’t actually grant you access to the item that its value represents. The only thing it does get you is access to all relative values, or everything that interacts with that object in a meaningful way. The RPS Chart acts as a gigantic excel spreadsheet which catalogs and calculates how one thing could reasonably negate, counteract, subvert, or otherwise destroy another thing, and vice versa.

You can't just KNOW where something is on a fractal, you have to find it. Like how theoretically you could find every single number combination within the digits of pi, but you'd still have to go looking for it.

Imagine it like playing the Wikipedia game, where you can only get from one place to another by clicking through links on pages, except instead of words with context on a screen, it’s dozens to thousands of arbitrary binary digits. The longer the code, the more quantumly hyper-specific the item.

You're going to have a lot easier of a time finding "cup of water" than you are "Betty McLaughlin's Red Diary From 1997".

This is why Kippyr has to spend as much time studying it as they do, because navigating through the chart with any amount of grace would take several human lifetimes to accomplish. However, with the Seer of Mind classpect, as well as their countless hours of diligent observation and experimentation with the chart, Kippyr is able to gracefully navigate through the fractals with the instinctual finesse of a sea turtle in an underwater slipstream.

NOW. Onto the topic of a Fetch Modus.

Kippyr is a slow adopter of it. Fetch modi are not a necessary element in the Homestuck world’s set of natural laws. For the majority of their life, Kippyr'd prefer to just use their satchel and pockets to carry all their stuff around. But as they progress further into Sgrub, and their session becomes more demanding and complex, they’d eventually develop one that works seamlessly with the RPS system:

The RPS Modi. The way it works is simple: Just throw the shape of the object which would beat the object you’re looking for. If you wanted Rock, you’d throw Paper, if you wanted Paper you’d throw Scissors, and if you wanted Scissors you’d throw Rock.

Simple! Just don't forget the hand shapes :^]

#rikuredo #homestuck

[lostlegendaerie]

Fuck it! US Private Student Loans Guide!

DISCLAIMER: while I have worked in private loans specifically for five+ years, this isn't ‘financial’ advice and is just a heavily summarized guide on how to navigate them. Yes, these loans suck, but complain to your legislators not me. I’m just trying to help you know what you’re doing. Additional info for each section is under the cut!

1) Who are you and who are all the companies constantly running around with my money?

I work in loan SERVICING, which is basically the billing department. If you’ve got a new company asking you for money, it's probably a new servicer and your debt is still owned by the bank. We enforce the terms in the promissory note, the document you sign telling the bank “yeah I'll play by your rules if you give me the money.” If your loan defaults, you’ll get contacted by a third (fourth?) party, but how that works is beyond my wheelhouse. The bank or your servicer should be able to confirm what happens in case of default.

2) What am I looking for in a ‘good’ loan?

Generally, you’re going to want SIMPLE instead of compound interest, a FIXED RATE opposed to a variable one, and you’ll want to go for FULL DEFERMENT while in school and make manual payments when you can. Also ask up front about stuff like if disability forgiveness or co-signer release (getting your parents off it) is offered.

3) This loan sucks! How do I make it better?

Student loans are NOTORIOUSLY hard to get out of, unfortunately. If the interest rate/payment relief options suck, you can try to REFINANCE where you take out a new loan to pay off the old one. This gives you a new promissory note, interest rate, and terms/conditions. If you’re trying to erase the debt entirely, ask for the promissory note (if they can't provide a copy, we have to forgive the debt. I've only seen this happen ONCE.) or try to go through social security disability.

DO NOT USE FREEDOM DEBT RELIEF OR OTHER SERVICES. DO NOT. THEY ARE SCAMS.

More in depth information for each point!

1) Lenders and Servicers

The lender is the person who provides the funds in the debt - the bank who pays the school or the hospital or the home contractor fixing your sink. The servicer is the company that is your point of contact when you need to make payments, ask for payment relief, or otherwise manage the loan that exists. Think of us as the mechanic (we keep the car running) where the bank is the manufacturer (they make the car). Some different servicers are SoFi, Zuntafi, Great Lakes, Nelnet and Firstmark Services; their names will be on the billing statements. Some different banks are Citizens, US Bank, NorthStar; their names will be on the promissory note and the disclosures.

Sometimes banks do sell the debt, however! A couple years ago Wells Fargo sold an enormous chunk of their loans off somewhere (an investment group, maybe?) but! The promissory note will still be the EXACT same if your debt gets sold. You’ll only get a new promissory note if you refinance the loan yourself.

2a) Interest Accrual and Rates

Interest is how banks profit off the loans they give out and/or ‘ensure they don't end up with a loss if the loan defaults’. (It's profit.) Most, but not all, loans calculate interest with the simple daily interest formula, shown below:

[(Current loan balance) x (interest rate)] divided by 365

If your loan’s balance is $10,000 and your interest rate is 6% you’ll be charged $1.64 each day. SIMPLE INTEREST means that this interest just kind of floats around on the account until a payment comes in and pays it off, where COMPOUND adds that interest to the balance at the end of the month/day/whatever. Compound charges you more over the life of the loan.

FIXED INTEREST is a set percent that doesn't change, where VARIABLE will change usually based on whatever the economy is doing. There’s a minimum and maximum value to the variable interest rates, so if you’re doing a variable ASK WHAT THE MINS AND MAXES ARE. A fixed rate might be 8% and a variable might be 3.25% the day you take it out, but that variable could have a maximum interest rate of 25% so be VERY, VERY CAREFUL. If you get stuck in a real bad variable interest rate, your best solution is probably a refinance.

2b) Deferment and Payment Allocation

So interest is gonna be accruing on your loan from the day the money leaves the bank. Sucks. And you may not be able to make payments while you're in school, so opting to DEFER your payments will stop them from billing you so you can skip a month or whatever without penalty. At the END of that deferment, though, whatever interest that accrued will be added to your current balance. If we use the example from above (10k loan with 1.64 daily interest) four years of school will add $2,400 to your balance and then your daily interest will jump up to $2.03 a day.

Solution? Make payments of what you can while you’re in school to chip away at that floating interest. Usually when you make a payment, it’s gonna go towards the interest first and then the rest drops the balance. (E.g. if you make a $20.00 payment ten days after your loan is disbursed, $16.40 will go towards interest and $3.60 towards your 10k balance). There is NO PENALTY for making extra payments or making early payments, but it might make your bills look a little weird if you’re being billed each month for just the interest.

3) Why are these loans so horrible? Can’t I find anything to help me?

Blame Reagan and the republicans who enabled him.

No, but really. The problem with these loans is that those promissory notes are VERY legally binding and have lots of fine print in there designed to make it as hard as possible for someone to skimp out on their debt without having their credit score decimated. Some lenders might even dip into your paychecks if you're crazy behind or default; again, that's not my wheelhouse and I've only maybe seen that once. Your best bet is just to pay it off as fast as possible (again, no penalty for paying the loan off early) or refinance into better terms.

And I get it. I really do. I hate how we’ve made so many incredibly important things in our society locked behind a paywall that charges poor people more to climb than the rich. But if you’ve made it this far, please don't turn your anger at me for not giving you the answers you want. The best I can do is vote for people who are willing to crack down on predatory lending, keep fighting for student loan forgiveness… and at my own job, make sure that my coworkers aren't making mistakes.

If you have a more specific question, I can try to answer as best I can without breaking any information privacy laws. And take care, okay? You are never fighting alone.

#private loans #student loans #school loans #loan forgiveness #long post #credit score #credit services #debt relief #debt consolidation #I spent like two weeks off and on with this PLEASE REBLOG but also PLEASE BE NICE

[thydungeongal]

Playing Borderlands 2 with @rox-and-prose yesterday we also ended up talking about tabletop RPGs and what Borderlands has to offer to those types of games. This is still very vague and up in the air, but it resulted in at least a couple different half-formed ideas:

The genre of looter shooters is fun! It's also fun when you end up finding new random guns, each weirder than the last. @efangamez's GRIM already has the mechanics in place to support quick and brutal shooter gameplay, so the only thing it really needs to be turned into a looter shooter is the addition of random procedures for generating strange guns. This is something I want to explore further for this month's GRIM jam.

Shotguns are fun cause when you fire a shell it explodes into multiple pellets (or shots? idk) and there's nothing more satisfying than seeing an enemy eat like a dozen or so individual pellets in the face. But how do you model this in a tabletop RPG in a way where it isn't a hassle to calculate? Simple enough: each pellet does a set number of damage and the "damage" roll is to determine how many pellets hit. Most shotguns will fire like 1d6 or 1d8 pellets per shell, but you might even find a fucked up shotgun that fire 1d20 pellets per shell.

If you want to have a separate to-hit roll then better hits translate to advantage on the "how many pellets hit" roll (roll twice and use the better result) with the possibility of getting good hits being higher at short ranges. Or if you don't want that extra granularity and want to make it so there's ONLY a damage roll and no separate attack roll, just make it so the damage roll has advantage at short range (and conversely disadvantage at long range).

Still relates to shotguns, but you'll want damage numbers that have easy factors: 1, 2, 5, 10 imo. Those numbers are effortless to multiply for most people. Like, obviously a damage number of 7 isn't impossible to multiply, but like it can result in little speedbumps which do add up eventually.

The latter idea I think would merit almost an entire game of its own built around it although I could also see it being hacked into GRIM. GRIM as written does handle this stuff much more abstractly for understandable reasons, which is why I do think this idea about shotguns might be best left to fester a bit for now.

[ladykissingfish]

*Kakuzu, giving math word problems to Hidan*

Kakuzu: Okay, now; say I want to buy a sweater. The sweater costs $50. I manage to talk the store owner into giving me a 25% discount. How much is the discount, and how much do I end up paying for the sweater?

Hidan: *brow furrowed, writing it down on paper*

Hidan, out-loud: A 25% discount of $50 is $12.50. So you minus $12.50 from the original price of $50, and you pay … $37.50?

Kakuzu: Very good. Alright, now what if I find a tear in the sweater, and convince him to give me another 5% discount? What am I paying then?

Hidan: You’re … paying …5% of $37.50 is about $1.87. So minus that from $37.50 and you pay … about $35.63, maybe round it up to $35.65.

Kakuzu: Very, very good, Hidan. You’re getting so good with numbers.

Hidan: Yeah, but, I still need a fucking piece of paper to figure stuff out. You do everything in your head …

Kakuzu: Hidan. You went from having trouble with simple addition and subtraction to calculating percentages. Not only that but your reading has picked up so much …

Kakuzu: *hugs Hidan* I am so, so proud of you, brat.

Hidan, blushing: T-thanks, old man. Hey, how about a reward? Like, you buy me a new blade for my scythe?

Kakuzu: A blade for your scythe? The cheapest ones are like $200!

Hidan, writing on the paper again: Actually, that one weapons shop up the road is having a sale this weekend: 60% off a purchase of $300 or more. If you buy me two new blades, at $400 total, then your discount will be … $240. Minus that from $400, and you’d only be paying … $160. That’s $40 cheaper than it’d be for one!

Hidan, grabbing Kakuzu’s hand and pulling him towards the door: Shit, you’re right; math IS fun! Come on!

Kakuzu, sighing as he grabs his wallet: I think I’ve made a mistake …

This is for you, @ama-tera 😊

#kakuhida #kakuzu x hidan #kakuzu #hidan #the akatsuki #learning is fun #teaching your boyfriend how to haggle … one of the best bonding experiences 😌 #🤎🤍

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and The Saint Ch 5

Pairings: Slow Burn Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, fake names (for now), reader is referred to by her stage name, reader still thinks Bucky’s name is Nick, everybody has secrets, reader says unkind things about herself/is insecure, reader is an exotic and extremely flexible dancer, explicit NSFW thoughts/language/conversations, subtle D/S moments, slow burn relationship. There will be many, many more warnings for future chapters including mafia and all the stuff that comes with that, kinks, and smut.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NSFW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated. 

Previous- Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The music started. You looked up slowly. Right into those blue eyes. Your lips twisted into a devilish smile. 

Sympathy for the Duke from Moulin Rouge the B’way Musical

The music started with just a simple drum beat. You were pretty sure your heart was beating the same rhythm. 

Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste....

You took slow, calculated steps forward in time. You let your mind flood with images of the man of wealth and taste that you had just been introduced to yesterday. You brought your right hand up towards the black silk top hat you were wearing. You pinched the brim with your thumb and first finger, spreading the others so wide and strong you were pretty sure you made Fosse nod in approval from beyond. You slinkily stepped down the runway, as if you had all the time in the world, making sure to toss your impish smile out at just the right moments. Then you stopped in your tracks and looked right back into those gorgeous blue eyes. 

Pleased to meet you; hope you guess my name...

You extended your left hand in his direction as if you were presenting it for a kiss. On the word ‘name’ though, you flicked the brim of your top hat with a sassy smile. You watched as a grin cracked across his face at the irony of the song lyrics and maybe your sass.

But what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game...

You crossed your right foot over your left, slowly twisting away from the crowd as if you weren’t quite ready to give up the secrets to the game just yet. 

The song continued, morphing into a verse from You Can’t Always Get What You Want. As the orchestra grew underneath the vocals, you began to glide a bit more over the stage, back up the runway and along the mylar curtain line, just really feeling the fun and attitude of the moment. 

You can’t always get what you want; you can’t always get what you want; you can’t always get what you want....

With your back to the audience, you seductively lowered the shoulder of the silky mesh cover you were wearing, raising it back prudishly on the lyrics ‘what you want’. Then you turned to the other side of the audience and repeated the gesture. The crowd started getting more rowdy the more you teased them. 

But if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.

You looked over your shoulder, right at Nick, shot him your sassiest grin, and on the word ‘need’, you pulled the top apart. The hidden break away seams along the back and the front made it look as if the clothes were exploding off of you. The crowd lost their damn minds and were eating out of the palm of your hand. Just the way you liked it. 

And that’s when the beat dropped in the song. And you went for broke. 

You pranced around the stage boldly, owning the moment and absolutely everything about every note. It was like putting on music and just dancing around your place just for the fun of it- you lost yourself in the joy of the rhythm. Your hips rolled deliciously on the trumpet riffs as your hands trailed seductively down your form. You tore off the wrap sequined skirt in time to the music. You felt like a goddamn rockstar; that didn’t always happen so you reveled in the moment right now. You made sure to flick your eyes up to Nick’s every now and then, just to watch his reactions. A couple lines apparently intrigued him...

I’ll lay traps for troubadours who’ll get killed if they come your way....

Use all your well-earned politesse, or I’ll lay your soul to waste....

He seemed to find something to smirk or chuckle about on each of those lines. Hmm. What was intriguing about them? Maybe he was the possessive type? Or he just found them funny? You didn’t really have time to think about that now- you surrendered to the moment, grinding your heart out and just having a fucking blast in a thong, pasties, fuck me heels, and a black silk top hat. 

Love, sister, it’s just a kiss away....

Pleased to meet you....

It’s just a kiss away....

As much as you didn’t want them to, the negative thoughts started flooding your brain. You were crazy. You had no right to think these things about a man you just met, let alone a client....but the lingering feel of his finger brushing your cheek and the nearness of those lips would not leave the forefront of your mind. It was a heady mix of wanting to back down versus willing to fight for what you wanted. Which way were you supposed to go? 

In response, and partially to reclaim your power, you had to throw your infamous leg move in the mix, making the crowd scream. Right before the last lyric, you positioned yourself in the dead center of the runway, flung your hat offstage, and looked boldly and deliberately right into Nick’s eyes, the devilish grin returning. 

Baby, what’s my name?

And you finished with a jump split, throwing your hand up in the air on the button. The crowd went absolutely berserk, but you only had eyes for one. Everyone around him was hooting and hollering, but he took a deep breath, returned the devilish smile, brought his fingers to his lips to give you a chef’s kiss, and tossed the rest of his drink into his mouth. His deep blue eyes never left yours. 

“That was our own darling Angel! And I’ll have Sympathy for any Devil that tries to take her out of Heaven,” Rhodey announced playfully over the PA system, making you giggle as you stood up, flicking your fingers goodbye, and exited. To your surprise, most of the other girls were backstage- apparently they’d come out to watch. They hadn’t done that since you very first started. 

“BABE that was FIRE!!!” Gamora moaned, snatching your robe and holding it out for you as Sprite hustled onstage to gather your things. “Shit, you’re gonna make ‘em run outta money before we even get out there,” she giggled, teasing you, as the other girls cheered and congratulated you in turn. You were even feeling a little proud of yourself- until you saw Nebula’s haughty, unimpressed face. 

“I don’t know,” she said nonchalantly to the crowd around you all. “I think it’s just because she’s new blood.” Nebula turned and smiled nastily at you. “Some people have a tendency to lose interest quickly once that ‘new car smell’ wears off.” You felt the color drain from your face as you suddenly felt like a worthless cast-off. 

Gamora, however, wasn’t having it. She turned and slugged Nebula on the arm as hard as she could. “Jesus Christ, why are you such a bitch?” she snarled as Nebula yelled in pain. “How the hell could I have turned out so fabulous when my own damn sister is such a raging cu-”

“Okay, that’s enough ladies,” Natasha interrupted suddenly, appearing out of nowhere. “Nebula, lose the attitude, watch your mouth, and get on deck. Gamora, quit punching your way into- and out- of arguments,” she commanded both of them. “Angel,�� she said, turning to you with a much kinder tone. “Nice job tonight, sweetheart. Go back to the dressing room and get ready. I’ll have Sprite bring your stuff to you in a moment.” You nodded, still a little embarrassed, and turned to obey. You mouthed ‘thank you’ at Gamora, who gave you a saucy grin. You saw her glare at her sister again, but didn’t stick around to see the aftermath. You didn’t have time- you had to get ready. You were going to see him. 

27 deep breaths later, you were outside the Champagne Room, freshened up and in the outfit you’d obsessed over all day. Your insides buzzed with nerves, excitement, and adrenaline. You took your 28th deep breath and opened the door. And there he was, waiting for you. 

Nick was sitting in the same location you had first seen him last night- only this time he was holding a glass of champagne instead of a tumbler of bourbon. His black-on-black ensemble made your mouth water for some reason; he was too handsome for his own good. You watched with secret delight as he desperately tried not to let his eyes rake up and down your body; it was obvious he really wanted to. You tried to keep that compliment close in your mind and not let it twist into another self-insult. He spoke first. 

“Bravo on a fantastic performance, Miss Angel,” Nick said, standing up and waltzing over to the bar, his eyes never leaving yours. He began pouring you a flute as he continued speaking. “Gotta say, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen someone strip to the Rolling Stones.” You giggled at that, blushing and ducking your head at his compliment. He strode back to you, his very steps echoing the power you felt him emitting. He gave you the glass, then clinked his own against yours. “Cheers,” he said. 

“Cheers,” you replied, biting your lip and looking down, trying to contain your stupid wide grin. 

“Uh uh,” he said sternly, shaking his head. He put a finger under your chin and raised your eyes to his. “Look me in the eye when you say ‘cheers’,” he said firmly but not unkindly. 

Something in your very soul instantly responded to him, drawing you like a moth to a flame. You wanted to do whatever he told you to. Almost before you realized it, your eyes had locked back onto his. “That’s better,” he almost purred. He clinked your glasses again. “NOW cheers,” he said, with that mischievous grin. 

“Now cheers,” you agreed, your heart rapidly beating its new rhythm, trying to make up for the beats it had just lost. You hastily took a huge swallow just as he finished his. 

“You have to look people in the eyes when you cheers,” Nick explained, a hint of the devil in his smile. “Otherwise it’s seven years’ bad sex.”

You choked on your champagne. 

Nick carefully patted you on the back as you spluttered, not even trying to hide his puckish grin. Once you could breath again without fear of champagne splurting out of your nose, you glared at him. He just chuckled evilly before returning to the couch and sitting down. 

“I’ve never heard that medley of Stones’ songs before,” he said, back to his charming self. He seemed to hide a bit of a smile as you sat down next to him- no hesitation this time like yesterday. “Where’s it from?”

“It’s from the same musical as the song that I...” you suddenly stuttered a bit. The idea of saying ‘danced to for you’ last night seemed indecently intimate for some reason (which was ridiculous as you WORKED IN A STRIP CLUB, you internally yelled at yourself), and you just couldn’t make those words come out of your mouth. “...performed last night in here,” you cobbled out lamely ugh loser. 

Nick nodded, choosing not to comment on the moment. “You like that musical,” he said as if he were observing something about you. “You a theater fan?”

“Big time. You?”

“I might have to become one, if those are the kind of songs they’re doing nowadays.”

The next two hours flew by as the two of you talked and talked and talked. You were only supposed to spend one hour with him, but when Fury poked his head in to tell you time was up, Nick just waved a hand at him. Normally, that would have made Fury toss any other patron out on his ear, but this time he just nodded back and carefully shut the door. Who was this guy, to hold that kind of power over Fury?

Thinking quickly, you tilted your head to the now-closed door. “You paying for the second hour, then?” you asked boldly, feeling a lot more loose after the fantastic conversation you’d been having. 

“Something like that.”

“You must be running up quite a tab here.”

“Don’t worry. Natasha will track me down when the check comes.”

“Do you...often run up a tab here?” you asked, your steel persona slipping a bit, afraid of the answer. Nick seemed to understand that. He leaned forward, tilting his head at you and letting those blue eyes twinkle. 

“Not like this,” he said softly. “Never like this.”

You were so delighted at that you couldn’t speak for a moment. He seemed to enjoy you getting flustered, but took pity on you and changed the subject. In fact, he seemed to do that a lot. Any time you tried to steer the conversation towards his job or why he was such a high-roller at the club, or even his name, he masterfully swung back around to something that would distract you just enough to get off the subject. You knew better than to push in a direction he didn’t want to go...but you definitely noticed he was doing it. And it made you curious. Very curious. Two could play at that game. 

Despite his best teasing efforts, you refused to give up your real name until he did- which he was not about to do in the slightest. It often resulted in a spirited and creative verbal battle that, more often than not, left you both in tears of laughter. 

Finally, when it was getting clear that the night had to come to an end, he stood up and offered you his hand. You took it, feeling like a rockstar again. This man made you feel like a rockstar. That had never happened...in this way...before....

He escorted you to the door, then kissed your hand reverently. You wished with all your might he’d take off those gloves and touch your skin again, or even more you wished he’d just lean forward and kiss you. It’s just a kiss away...But he straightened up, smiling handsomely at you. 

“Bravo again on your performance tonight. I look forward to tomorrow’s,” he said chivalrously. 

“‘Pleased to meet you’,” you quoted to him sassily, with a grin. He responded with his own. “‘Hope you guess my name’,” you teased with the lyrics that you had known would capture his attention.

His grin morphed in that heady combination of sex appeal and power, making you instantly melt. And he noticed it, closing the already-small gap between the two of you. 

“‘But what’s puzzling YOU is the nature of MY game’,” he whispered wickedly in your ear. “Until tomorrow, Miss Angel.”

Chapter 6

#mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #MOB BOSS BUCKY #mob boss bucky barnes #mob boss bucky x reader #mob!boss bucky #mob!boss bucky x reader