#“if you show a little self restraint. which let’s be honest you are going to need it”

[jubshead]

Agatha fumbled so bad when she saw Lilia that, within the two minutes of meeting her, she spilled her most guarded secret

[fancyfeathers]

Imagine Daughter!Reader pulls a "I'm gonna fake a crush on my brother's best friend so I can make them ALL uncomfortable" but it backfires and the best friend actually likes her back😭? (obviously daughter!reader's age will depend on the batboys bestfriend so no weird stuff going on in this ask dw) Like for Dick, Wally West. Maybe she asks the question "What else can go fast?" or something odd. Then for Jason, Roy Harper she asks him to teach her archery. Jason probably trusting her(maybe) he let's it go on but then catches Roy looking at her differently. Then for the others the same thing, like Tim- Conner. Something like REALLLLLLLLY kid-ish for Jon Kent if you feel like adding Damian's best friend. (These are all separate so no harem thing going on thank god.) Thank you for reading!!!!!<3

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

YES OH MY GOD I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS!

So realistically because she is the youngest, her crush would be on either Jon because he would only be a year older than her, or Connor who may be a bit older (physically, cause he was a lab child) but still within that reasonable age. Then in actual canon she has a boyfriend, who may be a lot little crazy, but they’re in love… right?

But anyway for this let’s say her age differs on each scenario in this okay

Okay Dick is just sitting there the like what the hell the moment he walks back in living room to see his little sister laughing and chatting with Wally, sitting way too close for comfort. Dick tries to show some self restraint, give the benefit of the doubt, but let’s be honest when Wally West falls in love it is head over heels and it is something that happens in an instant, basically love at first sight, she wouldn’t have to say anything to him, she just has to walk into a room. Then cue Dick ending up as a third wheel for the rest of the day, it probably gets to the point where Dick comes up with some excuse of why Wally needs to leave early and then as Wally is leaving he might ask about Dick’s sister and Dick gives him the biggest side eye ever and he just drops the topic. Then Dick goes back inside and his sister’s hair is all messed up, like a strong wind brew by and she is just holding her phone when she wasn’t a second ago…

“What…happened?”

“I think Wally put his number in my phone…”

“Son of a-“

With Jason and Roy, they are going on a mission together and training beforehand. Sister!Darling just handing around because Bruce and the rest of their siblings are gone and Alfred is out running errands that day, so until they get back Jason has to watch her which Roy thinks is weird because she is a few years younger than them for the sake of this post, but okay. So she is just sitting in the cave, reading a book Jason gave her because she not allowed down there so she’s not allowed to touch anything. Jason walks off to go find a different type of bullet and asks Roy to keep an eye on her because she is not allowed anywhere near the weapons or gear, and Roy just looks at her and waves her over…

“Cmon’ wanna try taking a shot?”

“Um… I don’t know-“

“I can teach you.”

So he does, and I really don’t know how to describe it besides this scene from Princess Diaries and just imagine when Jason comes back and found his best friend holding his little sister from the back, his cheek practically pressed against hers. He just loudly clears her throat and tells her that he needs to talk to her and he takes her out of the cave and sends her to her room, locking her in and sends a note to Bruce or whoever going to be home first what happened and where she is. Then he does back downstairs and Roy has the guts to ask if she is single and Jason just can’t…

“Fuck off Roy, she’s off limits.”

Now Tim has a harder time shaking off his friend, and I mean going by Connor in the comics (cause we don’t talk about Connor in Young Justice here) he is a bit of a headstrong personality and cocky, so if Connor and his sister are chatting and teasing each other he doesn’t really think much of it literally until he finds them kissing, a hand on her thigh and on the back of her neck and Connor is slightly levitating. Tim waits until Connor leaves and then he questions his sister about it, and she fesses up to basically trying to get on Tim’s nerves by flirting with his best friend but Connor ended up actually liking her, like a lot and one thing led to another and they were making out and have been texting for weeks and Tim didn’t think of it twice because it was Connor.

So then Tim asks Bruce to try to intervene by asking Clark for help but Connor has already gushed about his situationship with her to literally everyone in the Kent Family, and Clark has already gave Connor advice to ask her out and ideas for dates and it even got to the point where Ma and Pa are asking about when they can meet her because she sounds like a sweet girl. She just dug herself in a hole with this one, platonic Yandere!Superfam anyone?

Then Damian, well this is just kiddy love with his sister and Jon, and Damian knows that but it doesn’t mean he is okay with it. Whenever Jon is is over they are always talking, and Jon is just trying to impress her with his (half) kryptonian powers. Meanwhile Damian is giving Jon the side eye and really it’s nothing but that doesn’t stop him from running to go tell Bruce about it, what if it evolves into something more when they get older. So Bruce goes to talk to Clark about it and Clark doesn’t think it’s a big deal, they’re just kids and this is how kids are and so Damian just has to watch while Jon pushes her on the swings and deal with the fact that she just wants to spend time with Jon Kent and not him. Ugh.

[sunnyjae]

my roommate [part two] ♡ yjh 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I put my smut strictly under the smut tags on here to protect you guys so don't open anything with a warning like this one. Please.

[tag list info: let me know if you want to be added - tags are at the bottom of the post]

pairing ♡ jeonghan × fem!reader

pervert!jeonghan | roommate!jeonghan | dom!jeonghan | non-idol!au | fem!reader virgin!reader

warnings ♡ corruption kink, virgin kink, pantie fetish, descriptions of cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sort of possessiveness, depictions of cum eating, filthy dirty talk (like really filthy), descriptions of creampies, squirting, humiliation (Jeonghan is really mean in this one), degradation, praise, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (brief cockwarming), cursing.

summary ♡ in which your roommate exposes a dirty secret he's hidden since he began living with you.

word count ♡ 3.2k

author's note ♡ this one's really filthy. I warned you 🥰 I’ve actually been suffering through a lengthy Hoshi brainrot recently so I hope the energy from that going into this pays off haha

part one | part two

Jeonghan swallowed hard. His blood rushed to his neck and ears, making his skin turn a flushed shade of rouge. You breathed in sharply when he set his dark gaze on you, taking two slow and calculated steps towards you. The musky cedar scent of the cologne on his skin and tee made you dizzy with heat.

"And I'm going to be straight up. We're honest with each other as roommates. No pretence. No bullshit." he affirmed, closing in on you with hazy eyes. It should be illegal or at least punishable for you to be this cute, he thought.

You sucked in a hasty breath, one that failed to make your voice tremble any less under his hard stare.

"I know you took them."

Just when Jeonghan was prepared to get his ass beat, have the police called on him, and be ready to hibernate and never show his face at Christmases, Halloween parties or birthdays, you broke the news.

He didn't know whether he was more or less terrified of this moment than the previous situation.

What Jeonghan did know, however, was that he was embarrassed. He was mad, and yet he let out a laugh in disbelief.

"So let me get this straight," He leered, fully caging you against the fridge at this point. Fuck. "You let me run around like a fool, like a complete idiot, while hiding the fact I took your underwear. You consciously watched me embarrass the shit out of myself and didn't fucking say anything?" He was angry. And for the first time he expressed his fury.

You didn't know whether you felt aroused, or whether you should use this wrong moment to silently celebrate that he'd finally shown his true emotions. His voice reverberated gruff in the kitchen.

"Well," you gulped, looking up into his eyes. Jeonghan's hot breath wisped over the side of your face, and suddenly you noted he was a lot closer. "I was going to confront you about it,"

"And why the fuck didn't you?" he breathed out a laugh, this time more humorlessly, enjoying the sight of you squirming at his mercy when he leaned that tiny inch closer. "You like making fun of me, huh? Making me seem like the whore in this apartment when you're the one running around with wet panties, drooling at the sight of me."

Mind blank from the mean comment, all you could do was open and close your mouth, letting nonsense spill out. "I didn't-"

"Don't talk back to me," he reprimanded with a hot whisper, pressing his nose into your cheek, breathing you in. He still hadn't touched you and yet he had you rubbing your thighs together impatiently. "Lean over the fucking counter. Right now." He leaned back a little to give you a long and intense stare, bobbing his head in the direction of where he wanted you.

Jeonghan positively couldn't handle you sometimes. The amount of self-restraint he had to assert himself to was beyond him and all he wanted to do in this moment was bend you over, be the first to make you feel good, have you beg, fuck his hardness and all the cum he has filling his balls into every single one of your tight holes, make you struggle to walk, and leave you crying just like that.

He promised himself that, from now, he wouldn't let you go anywhere without fucking you first.

You felt your eyes blur and you bit your lip anxiously. "Yes, Jeonghan." he watched you tremble and shyly glance at him once more before spreading yourself face-first over the kitchen island.

Your slick had nowhere to go but gather in your underwear, making every movement of yours be accompanied by filthy wet sounds.

Before Jeonghan could move to join you, it was like the Gods were trying to stop whatever was going on with the two of you. 

Your front door swung open with a quick woosh and an excited Joshua stumbled in. He'd just finished his grocery store run when he decided to stop by your place with some snacks. After all, when it's cold and icy it's best to not be alone. "Guys! I'm staying over at yours tonight-" He stopped in his tracks taking notice of the scene, dropping his snack bags. His level of enthusiasm significantly lessened as he tried to calculate the gravity of the situation. "What's going on?"

You shot up, eyes widening. Your roommate, meanwhile, opted to hide the tent in his sweats by standing behind a chair. "Joshua, I think you should leave." His blunt response left his friend confused and Jeonghan sighed impatiently.

"But I just got here," he pouted, head tilting.

You clapped your hands a few times to take the attention away from the melancholic Yoon Jeonghan behind you, who was incessantly tapping his sock-clad foot on the floor as he waited. "We were arguing," you pressed your lips together at the half-lie, a wave of guilt surging through your belly as you considered rejecting your friend's advances to hang out.

"Yeah." Now smirking, Jeonghan moved to hide himself behind you. Radiating pure heat and tension, you felt his body brush against yours, but not enough to really feel him. "Bad timing, Shua." He added with a tsk.

"Well…" Joshua straightened, glancing between the two of you with an accomplished yet pleading smile. "You can argue another time, can't you?"

Well, theoretically you could, but you don't think Jeonghan could handle any more of this. The man's balls were bluer than the dishwasher tablets on the counter next to him. Behind you, he cleared his throat, probably only just realising this shambles of a situation. "Very, very bad timing, Josh. Sorry." He shrugged.

"How did you even get in?" you asked incredulously, Jeonghan nodding along with you subconsciously.

"You gave me a key," he smiled, dangling the set of keys in front of him. What a sweetheart you thought. He really could be adorable sometimes - the perfect addition to your dynamic with Jeonghan. "I'll be quiet if you guys are busy - you won't even know I'm here!" He promised.

"I'm sure we will-" Jeonghan started before you slapped his arm with a sharp whisper. "Don't."

Jeonghan felt his nostrils flare.

"I think you're testing your luck," he raised his brows and crossed his arms as an impending warning. You were definitely going to get shit for hitting him like that.

"Hm?" Joshua perked up, eyes on the two of you in anticipation.

"Give me your underwear." Jeonghan outstretched his hand and you gave him a mortified look to hide how aroused you were.

"Get settled, Shua." you went to pat the sweet boy's back and help him out of his long parka jacket and scarf, turning to Jeonghan again. "You." you pointed at him with a single finger. "We need to have a chat."

Now in his room, you were essentially stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Are you out of your mind?" you spat, swivelling to hastily leave the room. You were stopped by a hand on your wrist, and internally spewed curses as a way of calming your raging hormones.

"That wasn't a request." His hand extended towards you further and you actually considered it for a moment. The somewhat blank expression on his face paired with his blown-out pupils had you quivering in excitement.

But shit. You would have never said anything if you knew he'd act up in front of your mutual friend. Josh was so, so nice and he never created trouble - he was the one to thank for your arrangement with Yoon Jeonghan anyway.

"I understood what you said," your eyes rolled and his grip tightened on you, your breath faltering embarrassingly.

"I fucking hate your attitude." Blunt. "I bet you get off on having wet panties too,"

"N-no,"

"No?" he smirked, switching his body weight to his other foot. "How many pairs have you soaked through, then?"

"Don't ask me that," you whined, a scary mixture of turned on and embarrassed. You found yourself glancing down at yourself.

"So fucking dirty. Filthy." he cursed, eyes rolling back into his head at the thought of smelling you like that. Jeonghan groaned and closed his eyes at the image: your desperate cunt covered by that thin baby pink silk, begging to be smelled, touched, eaten out until you can barely stand. He felt overwhelmed at the idea of actually having you for himself, to have a first taste, a first proper sniff of you like he spent his free time beating off to and his night times dreaming of.

You imagined Jeonghan folding you in half on the bed, bending down and- before he knew it, you'd freed yourself of his grip and mounted yourself on his bed. Ass fully out, t-shirt barely covering anything at this point, you wiggled around to attract his eyes back to you.

He was entranced by you, and clumsily stepped closer, "I'm so fucking wet Jeonghan." You whimpered, showing the glistening patch of pantie, now stuck to your centre and asshole, pretty folds pressing through the material in tiny rolls and bumps along the apex of your thighs. He braced himself and breathed in slowly, eyes fixed on that treasure covered by the material.

He felt himself breaking, and you were pulling him apart piece by piece.

"You gonna let me?" he groaned, kneeling behind you, cock hard in his boxers once again, this time an ache settling in his balls from the amount of times he'd stiffened in the confines of his clothes.

"Yeah," you whined, feeling his breath on your asscheeks.

He leaned in and pressed his nose into your crotch, fully immersing himself in the moment. Jeonghan breathed in once, twice, thrice and almost came. "Fuck, this is so hot. You smell so fucking tasty."

No matter how disgusting it seemed, how dirty it was, he was thrilled. You shuddered at the feeling of the tip of his nose digging into your pussyhole, your wet folds spreading around it perfectly, just like they would if you were to sink your cunt down onto his cock, lips spreading, stretching, just to fit his girth.

"Please, Jeonghan." at your whiny begging he made his next move, tongue pressing into your centre over the soft material and licking. The wet muscle even further soaked your underwear, and made more of your juices flow out through the silk - your taste better, even more addicting that he imagined. 

"You gonna cream your panties, sweetie? Dirty them for me, c'mon." One finger rubbing at your covered bud, he licked and licked at your hole, starved and completely aroused by your ass in his face. A wave of pleasure made your abdomen tighten and he pressed himself deeper into your clothed pussy, tongue now firm and penetrating your cunt over the silky pink.

"Gonna carry this virgin pussy's underwear in my pocket every fucking day." he groaned, "And I'll fill you up with my cum five times a day, just so your panties'll never be dry darlin'."

"Yeah,"

"Yeah? You fucking want that?" he bit his lip, wrapping his arms under your thighs and interlinking his fingers over your lower back, pressing himself into you as much as he could. Jeonghan furiously opened his mouth, pretty pink lips and tongue rubbing over your clothed pussylips and he growled, eating you out angrily.

"Oh, fuck." You gasped aloud, heart palpitating. You weren't entirely sure if it was because of how good you were feeling or the sense of panic settling in at the thought of Joshua hearing all of this over the crime documentary episode he was watching.

Jeonghan however, felt angry at himself for being such a coward, not bending you over like this before (although when he did, he was interrupted earlier). "Mmh." you hummed, feeling him shake his head left and right into your sinful wetness.

"I'm so fucking pissed. This virgin pussy is mine. Fucking untouched." he whined, burying his face in you again. "You saved your pretty pussy for me to have, right?"

"Yes, yes, yes, Jeonghan. Oh my God." Thighs trembling, you felt a strange feeling overtake your tummy, the burn of which soon overtook the control you had over your muscles. "I'm gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck!" you chanted with breathless whimpers.

His teeth grazing your clit was all you needed to orgasm as your shook, face buried into his sheets. Jeonghan groaned as he sat back and watched you wet your panties further, squirting into them with trembles of your legs. "So fucking sexy. So dirty for me. Gonna go see Joshua with soaking panties, aren't you?" He smirked, admiring the filth between your thighs. He was then pulling himself out of his boxers finally, but not letting you have it yet.

You watched, dazed, as your roommate, wet faced and flushed, spread himself against the headboard. "Be good for me and go into the kitchen and get that ice pop you wanted."

You shook your head quickly, "Jeonghan, please, no."

"Go." He used his head to motion to the door, teasingly beginning to stroke at his cock in front of you. Tip red and hot, he bit his lip once again at your gaze, feeling himself squirm. Your roommate was shameless in the best way. "I'll give you my cum," he taunted with a raise of his brow and an all the more charming grin.

You didn't feel pressured but you desperately wanted to feel him, to have his cum sticking, pooling deep inside - so you fumbled around onto your feet. He laughed as you almost fell off the mattress trying to stand up. Your cheeks burned hot, humiliation painting your features into a pout and cute frown, which Jeonghan found himself uncharacteristically whimpering at.

You let out a sob and he laughed again, cruel and unforgiving. “Yeah, sweetie - fucking cry for me.” his tongue swiped at his bottom lip, "I said I'll give you my cum darlin', now go. And be nice to Josh, will you?"

Fucking dick. Your eyes burned with brimming tears as you wobbled on your legs, heading for the kitchen.

"What happened to you?" Joshua caught you as he was heading for the bathroom. He took note of your hot face and laboured breathing, as well as your struggle to stand without your legs giving in on you. "Are you having an anaphylactic reaction?"

"No." you sniffled, embarrassment hitting a whole new level. Jeonghan was really fucking mean.

"What the fuck did you two argue about? You look really sick!" his eyes were comically wide and you almost laughed through your tears.

"I need that cherry ice pop from the kitchen." you mumbled, clearing your throat, bending over to rest your hands on your wet thighs. Joshua hadn’t noticed the slick covering your bottom half, probably because of the shirt covering a good portion of it all.

He nodded, "I'll get it, you need something sweet anyway - why don't you go to bed and I can bring it to you?"

"No!" you panicked, watching him go over there and make his way back with the sweet treat. How it hadn't defrosted yet was beyond you. "No, it's- it's fine I can take it. I still have to uh- discuss something... with Jeonghan." You motioned to his bedroom door.

"I see," Joshua smiled at you, petting your miraculously unmussed head. "Well I'll be in there if you need anything. Jeonghan's been a little tense these past few weeks, maybe him moving in with you has struck a toll on him." He added thoughtfully.

"He's just trying to, uh- relax i guess." you laughed nervously. Oh, the double entendre.

"Yeah," Josh agreed, nodding. "Anyways, sorry to hold you up - gotta dash to the bathroom." He smiled once more and moved away.

The first thing Jeonghan did was mock gasp at your state, or perhaps in surprise as to how good you were being for him. "Hm. Well done, sweetheart," He lilted with an excited smile, watching you whimper and crawl over to him with tears in your eyes. When you leaned into him, he used his free hand to wipe at your wet cheeks, pouting and even further making fun of your vulnerability.

"You want my cum in your mouth or in your pussy?" he asked in mirth, grinning at your genuine struggle to decide.

"Both, Jeonghan." you added shyly, sitting between his spread legs on your knees.

"Both?" he chuckled. "Okay,"

You smiled through your humiliation, his eyes intense on yours.

"So cum-hungry - gonna empty my balls for you darlin'." he groaned, head relaxing back and hand speeding up its movements. You leaned down and wrapped your lips around his pretty tip with a mewl, finally tasting him. His hand moved up and down rhythmically on his cock and you decided to rest your own on your knees.

Jeonghan looked down at you from his position and nearly choked on his spit at the beautiful sight. Your lips (your liiiips haha had to add an nct thot bop in there) stretched around his cock like they belonged there. Your eyes wide and teary looking up into his, you felt your roommate shake and tremble. Hold it, Jeonghan. He begged his body to calm down, but when you kissed the head of his cock and teasingly licked at it with a smile, he practically combusted.

"Fuck, take it sweetheart - don't waste it honey." And he was spurting his own cum into your mouth, your lips closing over his tip.

With one last soft suckle you leaned into him and spread your pretty lips for him to showcase what you'd been wanting to all this time. "You gonna be good for me and swallow it all?" he hissed at the sight of your tongue covered in his seed, swishing through the white substance.

You nodded and swallowed a few times to get it down. "Well done," he smiled lazily, patting your cheek, almost softly slapping you. "You wanna sit on my cock now darlin'? We still have to dirty your panties more."

"Yeah, please Jeonghan." shy again, you nodded.

"Such a good cumpdump for me," he muttered, bringing you onto his lap while wiping at your face. "I want you to sit still for me, okay?"

Jeonghan moved your underwear aside to, for the first time, expose your cunt to the air of the room. You knew this part would hurt, but to have Jeonghan's cock in any hole of yours would be a dream come true, so you shut your eyes tightly and waited for Jeonghan to press the tip in.

"Open your eyes. Look at me. Breathe." he pressed his lips to your cheek and mumbled into your soft skin before pulling back to allow you to focus on him and him only. "Okay I'm going to push in now. Tell me if you want to stop. We will stop and stay as we are, understood?"

You nodded with a verbal, "Yes, I understand. Please Jeonghan, let me have your cum in my pussy too. I want to carry it inside me all day. Please."

His tip was the first stretch, which wasn't bad as you had taken four of your own fingers before, but you clenched hard at the following inches. "Fuck," he cursed, gazing into your eyes with a sense of pride. "Good. Well done, sweetie."

"Ah," at your whine, he was fully sheathed inside and throbbing hard. "Fuck you're so deep. Oh my God."

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your wet face into the t-shirt material of his shoulder, the rustling of a wrapper grabbing your attention. He passed you the ice pop stick and let you suckle on the sweetness. "So good darlin', so much cuter like this." He sighed, "You know, I still haven't forgotten that you hit me earlier. And Joshua is still in the next room."

You shook your head, removing the cherry goodness from your mouth and pressing a slow pouty kiss onto Jeonghan's lips. "I'm sorry Jeonghan." you sniffled, feeling the pain deep in your pussy slowly subside.

Kissing your forehead, he smirked. "Hannie's gonna fuck into you slowly to give you his cum, okay?" Jeonghan used the same nickname that got him stuttering earlier, this time making you the recipient of the teasing. He noticed you coyly smiling up at him..

A few deep presses in with his cock in your cunt and he was cumming once again, having you squirm and tremble with him. "Squeeze my cock, love. Cum hard, you can do it."

You nodded weakly, spent from all the humiliation. But what you'd been waiting for finally came, and Jeonghan released into you with a groan, you followed and shook in his hold, mewling at the tightness.

He slowly pulled himself out and tucked his cock away into his boxers, fingers pressing into your hole to hold his warm cum inside. "Keep it in you when we go to watch the documentary." And he moved the crotch of your completely soiled panties back into place.

He went to wash his face before returning to help you up with your ice pop. He used whatever strength he had left to help you move out of the bedroom.

Entering the lounge, Joshua made a surprised noise when he noticed Jeonghan help your tired form inside, you hid into his arm. "Fell asleep in my room after we had a chat." you felt him chuckle as he patted your head sweetly. "A bit out of it now."

He let you sit on his lap with wet and messy thighs, and you basked in your roommate's warmth, letting yourself relax and feel his cum begin to seep out into your silk undies. The same ones he loved oh so dearly.

Jeonghan pecked a featherlight kiss to your forehead as you straddled him on the couch, and pressed his fingers to your cunt smugly without the knowledge of Joshua next to him, and grinned feeling his warmth seep through.

© sunnyjae 2022

tag list ♡ @lizsvcks @winterciella

[softukiyos]

a pinch of the jeekies | han jisung

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~2.7k+

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘩𝘪 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦! 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦! 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩! >.< 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Jisung liked to take pride in his cheeks. When he'd first entered elementary school, he despised them. Everyone had seemed to shed their baby fat very quickly, but his squishy cheeks never left. After a few years of struggling with his self image, he entered high school, confident and proud of how he looked. 

His cheeks were unmatched. No one would ever have cheeks that could even come close. 

At least, that was what he thought before he met you, his strict, grumpy tutor that his chemistry teacher had assigned to him in hopes of raising his abysmal grades. 

Jisung didn't like you at first. He'd known you from afar like most other people did; the top of the class, intellectually brilliant but aloof girl that didn't seem to care about anyone in the school. 

Jisung didn't like you when he first met you in person. Your tutoring sessions were hard, and he meant really hard. You never let him get away with a single thing, not one missing unit, not one problem where he forgot to show work, nothing ever passed your watchful eye. And as  much as he tried to resist, he found his grades improving at a rapid rate, which only encouraged his teacher to send him to you more. 

After a month or so, however, it sort of hit Jisung like a truck when he finally had the revelation that you weren't so bad. As Spartan as your teaching methods were, you never belittled him for asking a stupid question, you wouldn't laugh if he asked you to slow down, and all in all, you were genuinely quite considerate of his feelings while still managing to get the results out of him. The first time he saw you genuinely smile was when he handed you his first B+, where you looked him in the eye and told him that you were proud of his improvement. 

Jisung couldn't even remember the last time he received a compliment like that from anyone. So after a while, he began to think that maybe you didn't show care towards anyone in particular because no one ever bothered to look past your reputation to see you for who you were. 

After another day of classes, he headed to the library, ready for another grueling hour of chemical reaction exercises. However, as he turned the corner into the little nook that you liked to study in, his steps faltered as he saw you slumped over the desk, your head resting on your arms as you slept soundly.

Now, Jisung probably shouldn't have gotten so excited to see you sleep, but he did. After all, he'd never seen you in such a relaxed state around him, and as he took a peek at your face, he physically had to stop himself from cooing out loud at how adorable you looked.

Woah, woah, woah. What?

The boy did a quick double take. When did he ever think his chemistry tutor was cute? Well, there was that one time he saw you scurrying down the hallway when you came to school late, there was that one time you sneezed on your way up to the whiteboard and looked a bit like a deer in headlights. There was also that one time he saw you giggle when you came across a quokka doodle in his notes and--oh my god that was basically 98% of his time with you and the other 2% was the time he was just staring at you from afar. 

Gulping nervously, he slid into the chair next to you and very carefully placed his book bag on the table. To be honest, he was waiting for you to wake up on your own; with a brother named Changbin who was a literal demon if you even so much as nudged him while he was asleep, Jisung was well aware of the dangers of waking people up from naps. He wasn’t sure what type of riser you were, and he wasn’t going to find out.

But as the minutes ticked on and crept into your normal tutoring time, you still didn’t wake and Jisung just sat beside you, picking imaginary petals in his head to decide whether or not he should give your shoulder a light nudge. He wanted to, because he knew you’d probably get upset at him if you woke up later to find that the two of you had wasted precious time, but on the other hand, you did look quite exhausted, even more so than usual. The bags under your eyes seemed slightly more defined, and this nap looked like the first moment of decent sleep you’ve gotten in days.

Eventually, Jisung decided not to wake you. If you got angry, then he’d just promise to study on his own when he got back home. He could put off playing games with Felix for one night if it meant that you got some rest. When you made an expression of discomfort, he even shrugged off his bomber jacket, rolling it into a pillow before gently maneuvering it to replace the book you were sleeping on.

With nothing else to do, Jisung found himself spending much of that time on his phone, but he couldn’t help but take some of the other time to gaze at you. Now that you weren’t wacking him with a rolled up test that he failed or glaring at everyone, you actually looked quite innocent and peaceful. You looked even happy, and Jisung wondered what you were dreaming about.

But what really caught Jisung’s eye were your cheeks. With your face squished against your arm, your cheeks were puffed up adorably, and it took every ounce of self restraint for Jisung to not poke them at least once. They looked like little marshmallows, and as the minutes ticked on, Jisung found it harder and harder to control himself.

He even felt a little bit of jealousy curling in his gut. What moisturizer did you use? Why did your cheeks look softer than his?

“Oh, the two of you are still here!”

Jisung almost jumped out of his seat as the librarian peaked her head into the corner, “A-ah, yes!” He stumbled over his words nervously.

“Well, you better hurry out. I’m closing up in five,” she said before finishing up her rounds so she could leave for the day. Checking his phone, Jisung realized with a start that it was almost six in the evening, thirty minutes past when your normal tutoring session ended. He didn’t even notice.

He glanced over at you, who was still snoring away without a care in the world and his expression softened. Looks like he’d have to wake you up after all. He almost didn’t want to, but against his better judgement, he leaned towards you and gave your cheek a gentle little pinch, full of fondness that he didn’t even really understand yet.

“Y/N,” he murmured your name as softly as possible, his smiling widening as you let out a soft groan in response. Wow, your cheeks were fluffier than anything he’d ever touched before.

“What…?” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open as you sat up, gripping at Jisung’s jacket in confusion.

He smiled, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he ducked under your sleepy attempt to flick his forehead.

“What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Jisung said, helping you pack your book bag as you regained your bearings. As you finally managed to process where you were, your eyes widened almost comically.

“It’s almost six.”

Jisung laughed, “Yes? That’s what I just said?”

You shoved his jacket back at his chest, cheeks unnaturally hot, “Why didn’t you wake me up?!” Gosh, you were more than embarrassed. It was one thing to miss a tutoring session, it was another to sleep through it with your student literally right next to you. Especially when the student was Han Jisung.

He took his jacket back, still amused by how flustered you looked. In all the time he’d spent with you, he’d never seen you look so frazzled before, “I wanted to wake you, but you looked so tired!” Jisung explained, deciding to take the moment to try and reach out to you once more, “Is everything alright? You looked really drained. I noticed in class, too.” 

You tensed up, not expecting Jisung to be so observant. No, scratch that, you knew Jisung was always observant, but you never thought that applied to you. 

“I just have a little more on my plate now,” you explained the best you could without actually explaining. 

Jisung felt a pang of disappointment. It was the blank wall to the face again, like he always got when he tried to get to know you better. Two steps forward, four steps back.

“But, regardless, you should've woken me up,” you continued, huffing at him as you reached into your bag to pull out your planner, “It's my fault for oversleeping, so let me know what time you'd like to reschedule--”

“Woah, woah,” Jisung waved his hands frantically, shaking his head, “Didn't you just say you have more on your plate now? You don't need to reschedule.”

You gave him an inquisitive stare and he physically had to hold back a gulp, “Are you just trying to get out of tutoring?” You asked, but he noticed that your voice didn't hold any edge to it, another red flag that you were probably a lot more exhausted than you let on.

“I'm not, I promise,” he held his arms up in surrender, “I'll go over the material and do the assignment myself. You can check it over next week!” 

A moment of silence passed before you relented, placing the planner back in your bag with a sigh, “Okay, but the three mistake rule still stands. Got it?”

Jisung smiled, “Got it,” he said, grabbing his bag and standing up, “I won't let you down after all the help you've given me.” 

“You really think this is helpful?” The surprise in your words spilled out despite your best attempts to keep your mask of passivity. Fuck, it was always Jisung that made you like this. Any other person would tried to tear down your mental walls, only for you to build them up twice as high and twice as thick. But Jisung--Jisung just walked past them like they didn't even exist.

“Um, yeah? My grades literally went from C’s to B’s and A’s because of you!” Jisung exclaimed, practically offended for your sake at the mere thought of your question, “If that isn't helpful, then what is?” 

A dry chuckle left your lips as the two of you walked out of the library, “That isn't what I meant. Normally, people would say that I'm a bit...harsh? Overbearing? Un-fun?” 

Jisung bit his lip, his eyes rounding with a mix of realization and guilt as he saw the expression on your face. You probably didn't even notice it as you looked up into the sky, but he could see it as clear as day. A bittersweetness that looked a bit like hurt, but it wasn't quite either. 

So you did know of what people said about you, and it did affect you. The guilt festered in his chest as Jisung came to the painful realization that he was part of that group of judging before knowing only a few weeks before. 

“Um!” Jisung blurted out rather clumsily, grabbing your attention as you turned to face him, “You're a good teacher. Y-yeah, sometimes you can be a bit strict, but people should know that you do it only because you want them to succeed!” 

A moment of awkward silence passed between the two of you, and Jisung was about to disappear into the ground when you let out a giggle, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and failing to hide your amusement. 

You laughed. You laughed because of him. You were smiling because of him. Jisung held your expression, your moment of happiness, close to his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to see it again. 

“Thank you, Jisung,” you said after your giggles died and you stood before him, a bit of distance still between the two of you even though it wasn't quite as tense or awkward as before, “That means a lot to me, really.” 

Jisung’s face lit up, and he nodded, “And I really mean what I said! I wouldn't have gotten so much better without you.” 

Your cheeks felt unusually warm in the chilly evening, and you realized that you should probably make your escape soon before you found yourself falling more and more for this boy who wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“Well, thank you again,” you said sincerely, clutching the strap of your book bag as you gave him a smile, already beginning to turn away, “I’m gonna head home, so I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Jisung felt the joy in his heart stutter a bit at the way you turned to glance down the road you were about to take, and his mouth worked before his brain, “Wait! I could give you a ride!” He blurted out before wanting nothing more than to bonk himself in the head.

“Oh?” You turned back around to face him as you crossed your arms, “You drive?”

“Uh, I have a bike, which is still faster than walking,” Jisung supplied the follow up information rather unhelpfully, but it made you smile nonetheless, “And you live close to Seungmin’s family bakery, right? I live right around there, too.”

There wasn’t much about that offer that you could really refuse, and you found yourself not wanting to anyway. You were still pretty exhausted and you were already dreading the walk back home. 

And besides, a little extra time with Han Jisung never hurt anyone except for your poor heart, which was beginning to grow tired of fighting your obvious attraction for this boy. 

“Alright,” you said, shifting your bag strap higher up your shoulder as you gestured, “lead the way.” 

The ride was quite silent, but neither of you minded. If anything, you enjoyed the silence, and Jisung knew you enjoyed it, so he didn’t bother to pry or start conversation. With your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as you sat behind him on what was normally the basket rack, and with the sky loosing its pinkish tones and exchanging them for the dark blues and purples of night, everything felt strangely perfect and--dare you say it--romantic. 

When you finally told Jisung to stop in the front of a house just a couple buildings down from Seungmin’s bakery, the air between the two of you had shifted somehow. It wasn’t a big change; you weren’t suddenly head over heels in love with him and he wasn’t suddenly filled with the urge to kiss you like they do in shoujo mangas, but there was a comfortable and mutual sense of affection for one another that didn’t need any pushing or rushing from either side. The two of you just...knew it somehow. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, your voice soft as you swung your leg off and found yourself next to the bike, face to face with Jisung. 

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled, leaning against the handle of his bike in a way that made him look deviously adorable. You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before reaching up with your fingers and giving his soft cheeks a light squish.

Huh, they were even softer than you’d imagined they would be. 

Jisung’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, which snapped you out of your daze as you quickly pulled your hand away and cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Don’t forget to go over today’s chapter when you get home,” you said, trying to mask your embarrassment and keep your voice steady as you gave him one last smile before rushing into your house, fumbling a bit with the keys when you pulled them out of your bag.

Jisung stood in front of your house for a moment longer, his eyes dazed with surprise as he reached up to rub his cheek. Fuck, if you mess around with him like this any more, he’d be head over heels in love with you before the semester even ended. 

And as Jisung biked back home, he didn’t even care that he actually lived in the opposite direction and he’d lied a bit in order to make sure you got back safe. Your smiles, your laughter, and your gentle retaliation for his earlier pinch of your cheek made it all worth it. 

Jisung thought he had the cutest cheeks in the world, but he was pretty satisfied with being second best now. 

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [Chapter 2]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, some soft ‘woo too, restraints, panties as a gag, dirty talk, degradation, name calling, oral(fem receiving), cum eating, sir!kink. My god it has been a week, a WEEK i tell you 🥲 Ldfkjdf I hope the lot of you are taking a big deep breath this weekend and doing something to relax or doing some self care cuz baby we all need it!💕 Treat yourself to something good! Take that nap! Buy that album! Get that coffee! I’ll try to bust out some thirst posts this weekend(i think we all deserve some, eh?🥴) should tumb1r not hate my blog and as usual, inbox round up tomorrow! 💕💕 For now, de-stress with ch 2 of UIMY, and have a great weekend! I love you!! 💕💕💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - x - x - x

You only get about 4 hours of sleep, if you’re being honest.

You won’t tell when asked because quite frankly, you’re a little embarrassed at how giddy you are to see Wonwoo today. You eagerly attend your morning class - panties already wet and mouth watering with the fantasies playing out in your head throughout the entire lecture.

“Hey, study buddy!”

Minghao slings an arm around your shoulder just as you turn to make a beeline towards the library, almost directing you into a different direction. “Where you headed off to? You wanna grab lunch?” Shit.

In the time that Wonwoo was gone, you’d spent a lot of time hanging out with other people trying to fill in the gap where, normally, you’d be spending underneath Wonwoo.

“I, um…” Going to get lunch with Minghao was one of the things that had become a normal thing after your morning classes and you hadn’t had the chance to tell him that your ‘usual’ schedule was back. “I--I’m gonna go study at the library for a bit! I’m really sorry! Can we go another day?” You pout at him which quickly melts off of your face when he shoots you a knowing smile.

“Gonna go ‘study’ Wonwoo-hyung, huh?”

Minghao lets you go - telling you to let him know when you weren’t busy.

You all but tear the front door open once you reach the familiar library; sheepish smile when it makes more noise than you anticipate.

“Careful, wouldn’t want you to pay the price of breaking the door.”

Wonwoo smirks at you from behind the receptionist table; familiar and warm when you step closer to the counter. “Maybe I do? What do you know?” You quip back, cheeks warm and head fuzzy at the sight of Wonwoo back in his usual sweater vest and slacks.

He leans in closer to you over the countertop, gesturing to you to lean in close as well. His lips ghost across the shell of your ear as goosebumps rise on your skin and shivers roll down your spine and the familiar thrum of arousal pours over your body.

“I know you were probably thinking about me all morning, sweetheart. Thinking of all the things I’d do to you.” Wonwoo chuckles under his breath, “Your panties are probably already soaked, hmm? Like my good little slut always ready to take my cock.”

His filthy, whispered words are enough for you to whimper quietly - eyes downcast as you only lean in closer. “Y-yes… Wonwoo, p-please, I--”

Wonwoo leans away from you and you find yourself letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“You’ll have to wait. I need to file these late slips and sort these books.”

There’s a teasing smile on his face as he watches your lips part in shock. “But you can do that, right? Be patient?”

No.

“I--y-yes...” 

You pick a table far from the others as you watch Wonwoo roll the cart with books into another row of bookshelves.

It felt a little odd to you now that you thought about it - waiting so patiently for Wonwoo when you were used to him caging you in against a bookshelf with his fingers knuckle deep inside of your cunt or even just tugging you straight away into an empty study room on days when neither of you could wait to get your clothes off.

There was a certain softness that he seemed to show with you now; one that you appreciated and made you feel things that you’d never felt in any relationship before.

Wonwoo would admit he wasn’t always good with showing his emotions with other people.

“He only shows it sometimes,” Jeonghan had said, “Usually to his hyungs and usually when he wants something.”

Which was true.

He struggled with letting his guard down and a lot of the time felt shy about voicing his emotions.

But with you, he felt differently. He wanted to show you that he was capable of letting his guard down and capable of showing you the affection and care that you deserved - even if the relationship the two of you had started was only physical at first. The time away from you only proved to him that he definitely cared about you more than he had initially thought too.

While his semester abroad was entertaining and educational, he found himself thinking about you often in the midst of his excavations and lectures. Wondering about what you were doing and who you were with; if you really thought about him as often as you had messaged him so.

“Um, excuse me?”

“O-oh, huh?”

He’s pulled from his thoughts just as another student steps in front of him in the aisle of books. “Sorry, I don’t remember where this book is from. Is it okay if I just give it to you?”

“Sure.”

It takes twenty more minutes of you pretending to study before Wonwoo’s legs step into your periphery.

You open your mouth to speak but Wonwoo is quicker.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but I need to speak to you regarding some books you failed to return.”

You try to hide the wide smile on your face when Wonwoo leads you down the familiar, lonesome side of the library.

“I’ll have you step into this room, miss.”

“Wonwoo, there’s literally nobody here…” Chuckling, you step into the empty, cleaned room that Wonwoo had painstakingly made sure was dusted before you came. “Unless we’re roleplaying, ‘cause then, I’m sorry, sir…”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him before easily walking you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the desk.

“You should be sorry, sweetheart. First, slamming the doors earlier and now overdue books? Tsk, when will you learn.” He easily slips into character, fingertips already ghosting against the exposed skin of your thighs before playing with the hem of your short skirt.

“How are you going to pay back what you owe, hmm? The damages might be irreparable.” He drags his hand up and under the flimsy material; appreciating the way your legs part a little more for him. A quiet moan floats past your lips just as his fingertips press gently into the growing wet patch of your panties.

“Already wet, too? Why exactly is that, sweetheart?”

“A-ah, ‘c-cause I want--want you to fuck me, s-sir… Been thinking a-about it all day… Just--just like you said...” You clench around emptiness, already impatient now that he had his hands on you.

“You have, huh? I bet you played with yourself last night, didn’t you? Fingered your slutty ‘lil hole and filled it up with a toy just to prep yourself for me.”

“Y-yes, sir…” Your guilty eyes avoid Wonwoo’s stern gaze, “I’m s-sorry… I--I couldn’t, ah, wait... Just t-talking to you, yesterday, I....”

Wonwoo’s fingers press hard against you, immediately rubbing your clit through your soaked panties as you mewl and lean into his warm chest.

“P-please… punish m-me…”

You can only whine around the fabric stuffed in your mouth; hands tied behind your back with Wonwoo’s belt keeping them bound.

Your body jerks against the small desk as Wonwoo fucks you from behind in the small enclosed space you were used to and a certain warmth pours over you knowing that nothing really had changed since he’d left.

“Shit, I really missed cumming inside your tight lil’ pussy and making you walk home with my cum dripping down your legs.” There’s a soft chuckle under his breath; cock curving right into your g-spot as you whine and squirm underneath him.

“Bet you missed it too, huh? Getting home and fingering your filthy ‘lil cunt, fucking my cum deeper inside of you ‘cause you couldn’t get enough of me. Fuck, and when you’d send me pictures of your cute ‘lil fingers covered in my cum…”

Wonwoo smirks at your back, placing a hand on your bound arms as he uses it for leverage to fuck you deeper and harder.

“I’m back for good now though, sweetheart. Let’s see what else your cute cock starved body can take.”

You can only moan back in return - spit soaking into the wet fabric in your mouth as Wonwoo only fucks you harder. “God, your cunt is so fuckin’ perfect. Made to take my cock.” When you clamp down onto his cock tighter is when Wonwoo realizes he misses hearing your voice - chuckling softly as he leans over your trembling body.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson, huh, sweetheart?”

He reaches around, tugging the soaking material from between your lips and placing it next to your head before he straightens back up. “Ngh… I, ah, s-sir…” You turn your head to the side, watching the wall as your body jerks atop the desk. “P-please… I--I wanna see y-you, hah, when y-your fuh--fuck me…”

A soft blush coats Wonwoo’s cheeks as he halts his movements. 

He clears his throat, pulling his cock out of you before stepping back and giving you space to readjust yourself. And with your arms still bound, you struggle slightly but manage.

This time, you sit atop the desk, spreading your legs wide for Wonwoo who licks his lips at the sight of your slightly mussed hair, blown out pupils and soaked cunt.

“That’s my good ‘lil slut.”

He positions himself between your legs, wrapping a hand around his cock and rubbing the head on your sensitive clit as you whimper. He circles the nub with the head of his cock, teasing you and himself as you squirm. “I take it you’ll be at the party tomorrow night, right?” His question catches you slightly off guard as you nod shakily.

“Good. ‘Cause I got you a present that I want to give to you tomorrow.”

“O-okay…”

Wonwoo sinks his cock back into you; cock curving into you perfectly as you cry out in return. “O-oh, god, s-sir--Wonwoo, I--fuck…” A choked sob bubbles up your throat at the feeling of him starting a harsh and quick pace, just how you liked it. “Mmh, my t-toys don’t feel as, hah, g-good as you… Fuck, you feel s-so good inside me…”

You wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the small of his back to push him in closer to yourself. “Use m-me like I’m your little cumslut...” The desperation sets in; tears freely falling from your eyes as the urge to cum on his cock becomes unbearable from the hellish months without him.

“Please, p-please… Harder, fuck me harder! I n-need it!”

He grins, knowing just how you felt but keeping his composure as he doubles his pace. “So fuckin’ desperate for me, sweetheart. You sound so pretty begging for me. Is that what you sounded like when you were touching yourself too? Begging for me all night long?”

“Y-yes, fuck! Ngh, fucking my ‘lil holes with my t-toys all night j-just to be satisfied… Oh, god, Wonwoo!”

You can’t stop yourself from cumming - toes curling and thighs shaking as your walls flutter around his cock. Wonwoo only fucks you harder as soft growls fall from his own lips.

“Fuck, I missed this, missed you. Missed your tight ‘lil cunt cumming around my cock, sweetheart.” He mumbles soft praises to you, although you can barely hear it in the midst of your orgasm; ears ringing and head feeling hazy at the intensity.

Wonwoo fares no better - cock throbbing inside your warm walls as his orgasm hits him hard only after a few more quick snaps of his hips.

Your bound arms behind you do little to keep your tired body upright atop the table but you do your best as he rides out his high. “Mmh, I can feel y-you cumming inside me… Fuck, it feels soooo gooood.” Drool pools in your mouth at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you for the first time in months and you mentally tell yourself to never let Wonwoo disappear for that long of time ever again.

“Ah, I feel so f-full…” Whining, you squirm as he continues to thrust into you, fucking his cum deeper into your pussy as you throw your head back at the fullness and wetness you feel. “Oh… Wonwoo…”

He lets out a deep breath before he slowly starts to pull out of you - cock covered in his cum and your wetness as he watches his cum drip from your spent hole. You slowly unhook your quivering thighs from around his waist as he steps back slightly.

“I--oh--”

You watch as he drops down to his knees, face right in front of your dripping cunt before he leans in.

“Oh, Wonwoo--” His tongue peeks out, lapping at your soaked folds before he drags it down and starts licking up the cum. “Fuck, oh, fuck…!”

Wonwoo dips his tongue into your hole, teasing you as your legs tremble and you try your hardest to not clamp your thighs around his head between your legs. You start to fight your restraints; fingertips wanting to thread through his hair as you grind against his skilled tongue.

 He licks up more of the cum before dragging his tongue up to your overly sensitive clit; rubbing soft, slow circles on the nub until you’re a whining mess above him.

“A-ah, I--I can’t, mmh, ‘m too sen--sensitive, sir…”

He takes his as his cue to stand from his position, standing quietly before leaning over you. He threads a hand through your hair, tilting your head up and kissing you on the lips as you melt into his gentle touch.

Your eyes flutter shut at his soft kiss, lips parting slightly for him as he uses his tongue to push cum into your waiting mouth.

The kiss turns hot and heavy as he moves the salty, sticky substance from his mouth to yours - lips covered in a combination of your wetness and his cum when he pulls away.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart.”

When the two of you are somewhat cleaned up and ready to leave, Wonwoo stops you before you can get your hand on the doorknob.

“Hey, you okay?”

You shoot him a confused look, head tilted slightly at the bespectacled male that only looks mildly disheveled. “Um… y-yeah? Why?” His hand on your wrist makes your heart do backflips in your chest as he looks you over once more.

“I should’ve had some water for you and done proper aftercare since it’s been a while. I might've hurt you? Are your wrists okay? I can--”

“Whoa, hey, slow down! You’re, like, freaking out, ‘Woo.”

A pale blush coats his cheeks, “Sorry, I’m just trying to… be more… Expressive? I don’t know. It’s been a while. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He laughs lightly, somewhat embarrassed himself. “I don’t want to be weird but, y’know. I want to take care of you properly, sweetheart.”

“I--yeah, I understand! But I’m fine, I promise!” You beam up at him - happiness evident in your eyes and your smile. “Thank you… for making an effort, Wonwoo.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

[clairecrive]

“Voodoo doll” - Billy russo x reader

A/n: and here’s another one for Billy. I got the idea from a request I got for another character and I thought it perfectly fit Billy. As if Ben Barnes could ever be considered anything but beautiful, *scoff* please.

Warnings: a bit angsty, fluff though, jigsaw!billy, season 2 billy

Prompts(loosely): “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so…” 

(let me know if you want to be tagged to any of my writings)

“Oh, hi you’re up.” You let yourself inside Billy’s hospital room smiling when you saw that the back of his bed was pushed up. He was sitting instead of lying down and that usually meant that he was awake. 

“How are you feeling today? The nurse outside told me that she gave you something for the pain but that everything is healing nicely.” Billy recovery looked like it was going to be long but after the impossibly long surgery you were just happy to see him alive and breathing. He didn’t look like he shared your optimism though. Granted, he was bound on a hospital bed, his body probably ached him all over and above all, his face was completely covered in bandages. It was the part that had taken most of the hits and Billy was one lucky bastard to even be in a hospital bed instead of being underground. That’s what the doctors had told you, at least.

Still, you could see how hard it was for him to see this whole situation in a positive way. It was taking its toll on him and you knew that no matter how many bruises and broken bones he had, his psychological health was the one which was in the worst shape.

You tried to offer him all the support you could. Sometimes that meant cheering him up with jokes and terrible puns, others simply required you to be next to him. 

Seems like it was one of those days because Billy stayed silent.

“Billy?” you tried again, setting your bag on the ground and taking your usual place by the side of his bed.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” His voice was hoarse from how little he used it these days but hadn’t lost that gruff edge that you loved so much.

“Visiting his majesty of course.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Waiting for the bus for 20 minutes before they tell you that the run has been cancelled, now that is what I call a waste of time.” You complained recalling what had happened that morning.

Since you had entered his room, Billy hadn’t moved. Not that he could manage any big movement given the restraints they had put on him but at least he could move his head. It had been laying on his pillow up until now. He lifted it to try and look you into your eyes.

“I’m not your Billy anymore.”

“Why? Has anyone made their claim on you? Is that what this awful smell is? Your new playmate’s piss?”

Billy made a noise, it sounded a halfway between a laugh or a sob but since his head was covered in bandages, you couldn’t really tell. You hoped for the first, Billy had always loved your sense of humour- he had told you it was one of the reasons why he had noticed you- even if it consisted of terrible jokes. You thought they were hilarious, Billy thought you were adorable. Whatever.

“Listen, I can see how hard you’re taking this whole reversed beauty and the beast plot. But just so you know, I’m willing to let my facial hair grow if that makes you feel like a princess again.” You added on a more serious note, kinda, hoping to convince him that his face wasn’t the only thing you loved about him.

This time, the sound that left him was most definitely a sob. Startled, you didn’t know what to do. 

Could he even cry? Wouldn’t it mess up with his bandages? Why was he crying though? 

Still unsure on how to go about this, you reached for one of his bound hands only to see that it was tightly close in a fist. Your hand wrapped around his anyway, hoping that this small contact could soothe him in some way. 

Fuck, you must be really worse at this than you thought. You were trying to make him laugh and here he was crying.

“Billy?” you tried again in a whisper. 

All jokes aside, something must have happened this morning to make him feel this on edge. Had someone been rude to him? Well, he was a wanted person of course people weren’t going to respond to him like they did before. Billy couldn’t even count on his charm and good looks and you knew how good he was at using them to get what he wanted. 

Wait, could that be the problem? 

You thought about the best way to word the question when Billy spoke again, saving you from the embarrassment.

“I don’t think this is going to work.” Uh, what? Oh no no, he doesn’t get to do that.

“I agree, I’m not a fan of facial hair myself. We could buy you a tiara though. That is definitely going to do the trick.” Completely refusing to acknowledge his words, you kept going along with your previous joke.

“I’m serious y/n.” He insisted, his voice straightening to highlight his intent but still to no avail. Still clueless to it, he had laid on a silver platter your next pun.

“I thought your name was Billy, not Sirius. Wicked name though.” His hand tensed in your hold and you knew that he was getting angry.

“Would you stop joking around for one second? I’m trying to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time around me.” His voice grew rougher, not exactly the high and strict tone he used to use at Anvil, but you could see he had strained his vocal cord to even attempt a stern voice.

 “I’m going to look like a butchered voodoo doll, forget the beast.” He added in a quieter voice. A confession laced with guilt.

“Oh Billy, don’t say that. You’re so much more than your looks, you know that. Besides, I’m sure you’re still going to be the one with the dashing looks of the relationship.” Your voice came out all wobbly and squeaky but you couldn’t help it, hearing Billy’s words, a far cry from the man he used to be made you emotional. You wanted nothing more than to help him but you didn’t know how. And here he was, trying to push you away.

“There’s no relationship, y/n.”

“I know that you’ve taken a big hit on your head, the doctor told me about your memory loss. It’s okay, they told me that some things are going to come back and you remembered my name when you woke up so that’s a good sign.”

Billy contemplated the idea of making up a story about him not remembering about you and come up with someway for how he knew you name when he first saw you after the incident but even though he wanted you to see his point, he couldn’t do that to you. 

He did remember you and he knew that the first part of your relationship had been based on lies. About his work, about his past, about his whereabouts when you asked him where he was going to late at night. 

He also remembered how that almost had cost him your relationship entirely.

Billy wasn’t one to make promises but he had made one to you. To at least try to be open and honest with you. There were still things that Billy didn’t talk to you about but this time around, instead of coming up with an excuse, he openly said that he couldn’t tell where or what he was doing . That, in the long run, had gained your trust back. You knew it was for your safety and that every time he told you you couldn’t know something, it was work-related.

And despite the fact that Billy was trying to self sabotage himself and your relationship, there was a part of him that didn’t want to see you go.

Yes, he still thought that you deserved more. Not only for his looks but for the things he knew he had done but couldn’t remember. If half the things he was accused of were true, then that didn’t make him a good person, did it?

“I do remember you. There is nothing more vibrant in my mind than my time with you. That’s not the problem.”

“Then I wholeheartedly refuse your attempt at breaking up. You can say whatever you want but I assure you it isn’t going to work.”

“I wish I could say that I did not remember you being this stubborn but we both know it would be a lie.”

“Oh, honey we both know that you enjoy it quite a bit when you want to.” You wriggled your eyebrows, trying and completely failing at making a suggestive face. You were successful, however, in making him laugh.

“Fuck don’t do that y/n, I can’t laugh.” he groaned, his head resting back on his bed.

“Well that is going to be a problem, ‘cause all I’m good at is being a huge cosmic joke.” You smiled at him, happy that he was finally done with all that nonsense he had just tried to pull. Instead, you dived into your back to show him what you had brought him.

It was his favorite comic book.

Apparently, a successful CEO of a security firm had an extensive collection of comic books which was also his most priced possession. The first time he had come around after the surgery, he had asked about them. He was worried that in searching his place for clues and whatnot the police had ruined it or something. You couldn’t see his face but the long sigh he let out when you told him that you had taken care of it personally looked a lot like relief.

What were hundreds of expensive tailored suits in comparison?

You started reading one of his favorite ones, including a very poor but very engaging representation of every sound of action in the story which made Billy smile under all those bandages. He felt like the luckiest voodoo doll in the world.

[aminiatureworld]

Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

 “Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

——————

There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture ­– a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.  

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.  

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

 —

 As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.  

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.  

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.  

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.  

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

——————————————————

(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Tf2 headcanons? Aw yeah! So let's say a new merc joins the team. They're a total asshole: Cocky, sarcastic, overconfident, refuse help. But both Spy and Scout see right through that, it's a defense mechanism. How do they go about making this person comfortable enough to not be an asshole?

*chanting* HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMFORT HURT COMF

Okay, jokes aside, this is one of my favorite tropes. Maybe I’m too naïve to believe that some people are just mean to be mean, or maybe it’s a sort of comfort to know that even the worst people can be understood, but either way, WOOOOOOOOO!

*****************

An Ass For An Ass

Headcanons

Scout:

To be honest, Scout’s threshold for asshole-ery is pretty high. Growing up with eight brothers will do that to you.

But when the new recruit came around, something immediately rubbed him the wrong way.

Recruit always stole his thunder with the crass jokes and over-the-top displays. Every battle turned into a competition, which messed with Scout’s system of fighting. He never had to focus much on his own team before, and now he had to worry about keeping his own reputation upheld while trying not to get stabbed, shot, or blown up.

Recruit also kept hitting on Miss Pauling - even after reminding them again and again that she was lesbian, and was not and never will be into dudes.

“Come on…you just haven’t been with a real man yet…”

“No, no, I’ve been with a lot of men. Real men. I just wasn’t into any of them. After a while, it was kind of obvious.”

But what really pissed a lot of people off was Recruit’s fighting style.

They were an absolute monster on the field - that’s why they were chosen - but every interaction was treated as some sort of survival scenario.

One would think that would be a good thing, but Recruit was ridiculous.

No matter what the situation was, he was fine, he was okay, he could take it, he could fix it.

He could be killed only inches away from a Medic because he would never yell for one. Sometimes Recruit would even show visible anger at being healed. It got to the point where Medic didn’t heal him at all, and just allowed him to die as to not waste time he could give too more grateful patients.

Missions were even worse.

He followed orders to a T, but Pauling had to beg him to leave a failed mission, or to leave without completely destroying the site.

Everyone just took it as Recruit showing off, or having something to prove as a rookie.

It was annoying, but ultimately harmless in most circumstances.

However, it all came to a head when Recruit tried disengage a sentry by himself and was severely injured.

Both Engineer and Medic, who had had to fix most of Recruit’s past and current recklessness, ripped him a new one, one chewing out after the other.

“What we’re you thinkin’, son?! One crossed wire and you woulda blown the whole base!”

“Zhe only reason you are allowed in my lab at all is because it’s in my contract. Personally, I vould have rather left nature to it…”

Since then, Recruit did exactly as he was told, and nothing else. And most of the team liked it that way.

But Scout recognized some warning signs immediately. Fatigue, near silence except for missions, self-isolation, snapping when people got too close…it all paved the way for a pretty nasty (and, for Scout, very familiar) result.

One night, Recruit was sitting on the balcony, and Scout came out with two bottles - a beer for Recruit and a root beer for himself.

(Scout can only drink on the weekends because one, unlike most, he can’t go to work hung over because his job requires a lot of movement, and two, he has no restraint and can’t stop once he starts.)

“What do you want?”

Scout shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?!”

“What are ya willin’ to tell me?”

Recruit just looked at the beer and sneered.

“Can’t we just skip this?” Scout said. “Maybe get to the part where you tell me what kinda Sally Sob Story we’re dealin’ with here?”

Recruit looked away.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t got one. ‘Cause you do. I can see it a mile away. So what happened? Pop leave? Somebody died? Lotta brothers and sisters? Ma had a few too many and smacked ya around?”

Recruit didn’t turn around, but Scout could tell he was crying. He had hit a sore spot. Hard.

“Hey, pal, listen…”

Scout trailed off, then slowly began again.

“…the only reason I know is ‘cause I’ve been through it, ‘kay? Outta everybody I knew, I only trusted me. And that was great when I did a good job, ‘cause I knew I put me there.”

Scout opened his bottle of root beer and took a long swig.

“But when I screwed somethin’ up, it’s like everybody I ever knew just let me down. The one thing I could count on was gone.”

Recruit looked at Scout with tears in his eyes.

“But ya can’t do everything by yourself,” Scout continued. “Believe me. I learned that the hard way.”

Scout laughed, but it was mostly to clear the air. He didn’t get serious very often.

Recruit hadn’t touched his beer, but was leaned over the balcony with his head in his hands.

Scout sighed and looked up at the stars.

“But here’s somethin’ that nobody told me - it gets easier, y’know that? You just gotta relax and cut yourself some slack.”

Recruit shifted uncomfortably. “But the Administrator said…”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know what she said. Gave ya that whole speech about how bein’ part of the team means discipline and focus and whatever. It’s all bull crap. She don’t know the first thing about bein’ on the field. If she did, why’d she hire us?”

“Sh-she said my perseverance was an asset to the team.”

“Perseverance, my ass. You know what would be an asset to the team? Stayin’ alive for more than fifteen minutes!”

Recruit looked at his feet. He had blinked away his tears, but he still looked on the verge of falling apart.

Scout put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it a little.

“You’re a great fighter, Recruit. You’re one of the best…that’s why you’re here. You got nothin’ to prove to nobody. Not to me, not to the team, not to the Administrator…not even to yourself. You’ve made it, kid. You’ve made it.”

Scout slid his hand off Recruit and started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Scout turned to see Recruit in the process of opening his beer.

“Thanks.”

Scout smiled. “No problem, pal. Plenty more under Demo’s mattress.”

“No, I mean…for that. I needed that tonight.”

“Oh…yeah! Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

Scout went back inside and to his room - but not before checking the cameras on the balcony a few times. Just in case.

Over the next few months, Scout kept helping Recruit break some old bad habits.

Recruit learned to take criticism without getting angry, to leave tanked missions, and to take care of himself.

He still occasionally flirted with Miss Pauling, but it was now more of an inside joke than anything.

Recruit still isn’t perfect - he still cringes a little when he’s healed, and falls back into survival mode when times are stressful - but he is now a much happier, much healthier person.

Spy:

Spy’s asshole wasn’t a merc, per se.

They were more of an informant, usually giving out important facts about locations, missions, and a target’s history.

Sometimes they would even use the Administrator’s PA system to announce new rules and reminders.

This would be perfectly fine - after all, you get kind of tired of hearing the Administrator all the time - except for the fact that Informant was the most sarcastic, most nasally, most apathetic, most matter-of-fact person on earth.

Even outside of a work setting, which was rare because they stayed in their office most of the time, Informant would go out of their way to be as condescending as possible.

Especially to whoever they considered to be in the “less intelligent” category: Heavy, Pyro, Scout, Demo, and Soldier.

To all the “others,” he turned every briefing into a contest to see who knew more at any given time…which, of course, usually meant he won.

“Now, does anyone know where his address is? Come on, any takers? Yeah, I thought so.”

Unlike Recruit, which would only warrant a few grumbles here and there from the team, Informant was the subject of a lot of hissed complaints and terrible rants from even the calmest of members.

Informant was the only one who could get under Heavy’s skin - a personal pet peeve of his was being considered less intelligent or less of a human being because English wasn’t his first language, which Informant chose to remind him of constantly.

It began with a few simple jabs at his grammar or word structure, but once Informant figured out that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly outside of battle, the taunts grew more and more daring.

Heavy would usually ignore Informant, which would only exacerbate their need to be noticed. This led to some pretty nasty interactions - from spouting the statistics of Russia’s average intelligence to even saying Heavy was a disgrace to his country by being a literature major.

“How’s that Russian literature major treating you? You know - in America.”

Sniper and Medic had tried to set Informant straight, but Heavy refused to accept any help. This was something that was his to bear, and his alone. He knew that they both took their own helping of harassment.

But one day, Informant went a little to far.

He did the one thing you should never do: insult Heavy’s family.

“You mother and sisters can’t do anything more than wait for you. No wonder you’re the only source of income.”

Before he knew it, Informant was against a wall, struggling to breathe, blood running into his eyes.

Heavy walked away after the incident, and told Medic about it, but he refused to heal him. Informant had called Medic a Nazi on more than one occasion.

This, finally, is where Spy comes in.

Spy was walking by Informant’s office, when he heard a strange sound - barely suppressed hiccups and sobs.

Despite his aversion to displays of emotion, the promise of seeing one of his greatest enemies as their lowest was too amusing to resist.

He knocked lightly on the door, then slowly opened it - always the master of drama.

Informant was under their desk, bloodied and bruised, sobbing into their knees.

Spy entered noiselessly, sitting in Informant’s office chair and lighting a cigarette.

It was only when Spy made a dramatic exhale of the smoke that Informant looked up, tears streaking their face.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Spy finally spoke.

“Oh, how the mighty fall. Flown too close to the sun, have we?”

Informant couldn’t do much more than snivel and retreat farther below the desk.

“Who did it?” Spy asked. “I want to give them my regards…and maybe a bottle of wine.”

“H-Heavy…”

“Oh? Well, if anyone can bring him to blows, it’s you.”

Spy put his feet on the desk and continued to blow smoke out of his nose, thinking.

“It’s strange,” he said. “Most offices have at least a few pictures of family. A trip to the beach, perhaps the zoo…?”

He took a quick glance around.

“No children. No army mates. No graduation photos or a large catch at a local lake. The only personal item you have is this…”

Spy picked up a Rubik’s Cube. The plastic still around it crinkled.

“Unused.”

Informant looked at the floor.

“I like to keep my personal and professional life separate.”

Spy pursed his lips and squinted.

“How noble of you. But I don’t think that’s the case. You know what I think, Informant?”

Spy took his feet of the desk and bent down, looking Informant in the eyes.

“I don’t think you have a life.”

Informant’s eyes went wide for a moment, then his face immediately crumpled. Bullseye.

Spy smirked and got up from the chair, starting to leave.

Informant’s sniffling turned into sobbing, and before Spy could put his hand on the doorknob, muffled wailing filled the office.

Spy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He was trying not to remember something. But the imagery was too strong.

He remembered hiding under a table, like Informant was. People screaming and cursing at each other in French. His knees all scarred and his nose runny from a cold that should have resolved weeks ago. Waltz music coming from next door, trying to drown out the fighting. Glass breaking. Biting his knuckles so he wouldn’t whimper or cry.

Spy’s hand closed into fist. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Informant again.

“But to be fair…”

He walked towards the desk, putting his hand in his suit pocket. He got on his knees and pulled out a pink handkerchief.

“…I don’t have one either.”

He offered the handkerchief to Informant, who put it to his face, still staring at Spy through red eyes.

The pair were silent for a moment, with Spy putting out his cigarette and lighting a new one while Informant cleaned themselves up.

“But the difference between you and I,” Spy said, his voice wavering a bit, “is that I am a Spy. If my information got into the wrong hands, it could be the end of me and my team.”

He tapped his cigarette on a nearby trash can, letting the ashes fall into it.

“But what are you hiding from?”

Informant took a shaky inhale, the handkerchief still covering his nose and mouth.

“W-what?”

“Why do you feel the need to be, as Scout puts it, a tier five jerkazoid?”

Informant sniffled. “I…I didn’t think I took it that far.”

“Took what that far?”

“I just…snrk…I thought that’s what I had to do to get them to take me seriously.”

Informant laughed, but their heart wasn’t in it.

“I’m five foot four with red hair and freckles. I look more like someone’s Andy doll than a contract killer. I thought maybe if I knew everything…I’d be worth it.”

They shrugged.

“At best, they’d be impressed. At worst, they would never get close enough to me to know the truth: the only reason why I’m here is because I can rattle off a few names and that I had good grades in school because I had nothing better to do.”

Spy’s chest ached. He didn’t know why, but it was a strange feeling to him.

“Mon ami…”

He cleared his throat.

“If half of the team is any indication, you don’t need to be Nikola Tesla to be hired. Hell, the fact you can read is an anomaly in itself. But there is something you must understand…”

Spy cleared his throat again. His voice had gotten quite unstable all of a sudden.

“Intelligence is measured in different ways. Scout could never read even the simplest of children’s books, but his physical intelligence - reflexes, spatial awareness, aim - is phenomenal. Medic would have to put my spine back together if I even attempted to do what he does on the field.”

Informant snickered at the joke, or perhaps the image it conjured.

“And me,” Spy continued. “I can speak almost any language, adjust to any social setting, charm anyone, fool anyone…kill anyone. Just like you, I can remember, and I use the information I absorb mostly to show how superior I am to all my lowly colleagues.”

Spy furrowed his brow and looked away.

“But I know less about myself than even my enemies. I have hidden it so deep within my mind that I can hardly remember…or perhaps would rather not remember…who I was before this mask of mine.”

Informant hesitated. “I…I’m sorry, Spy.”

Spy sneered and puffed a few smoke rings.

“I don’t want your sympathy. I want you to have some self-respect - and respect for my teammates. Because next time you are beaten within an inch of your life, you might catch me in a less generous mood.”

With that, Spy got up, reached into his suit pocket and presented a small MediKit, which he tossed to Informant.

“I’d suggest freshening up before going to any more briefings.”

Informant nodded, and set to work healing himself.

Spy started to leave, then stuck his head back in.

“And hang a few posters, would you? Your office looks like a prison cell.”

Finally, the Frenchman took his leave, adjusting his suit and nodding solemnly to the team members he happened to pass - or scowling at them, depending.

He glanced over the security feed, and once he was satisfied, made his way to his smoking room.

Spy closed the heavy oak door, poured himself a small glass of scotch, and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace.

He put a magazine on his knee and began to flip through the pages, but his gaze soon started to wander.

He closed the magazine, tossed it into the fire, leaned into his hand, and wept.

…So what became of Informant?

Well, after a reluctant heal from Medic and a few well-deserved apologies, Informant began to try and break the cycle of self-sabotage.

The process took a lot longer than Recruit’s did - especially since Informant’s transgressions were a lot more egregious - but, little by little, they began to heal.

A lot of the time, the other mercs would have to tell them to tone it down a bit, or to cut him off completely if necessary.

Informant still almost has a panic attack if he doesn’t have the right papers, and his office is still pretty bare, but he took Spy’s advice - a few AC/DC posters hang on the leftmost wall.

As for Spy, well…he needs to have a talk with Medic.

******************

I am so sorry…this is all so messy and weird. One is so much longer than the other, and I’m not even sure half the dialogue sounds right.

The two headcanons were just typed out at different times, the first where I had less motivation and the second when I had more motivation. This wasn’t on purpose, it just happened.

I hope you still like it, though!

[buckyownsmylife]

Burn - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry’s blindfolded.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: p in v, oral (f and m), curse words, one mention of daddy! kink, unprotected sex (I don’t recommend it), restraints and blindfolds. Also, the reader is trying to be a dom in this one, but she’s pretty soft.

A/N: day 11 of kinktober and the prompts were blindfold + “Hold it”. Once again, the smut is coming without revision and I’m still taking up friendship applications and beta applications which may or may not coincide. Hope you like this one, because I’m feeling dead inside.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Rationally, I knew it was stupid to feel this way. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to a date with Henry, but the truth was, nothing could have prepared me to what it would feel like to see him kissing someone else, having to sell that he was in love with another woman because that was a part of what he did to make a living.

But I had the best boyfriend, and he seemed to know exactly what I needed to feel better about the entire situation.

“How are you feeling, baby?” I asked as I slowly grinded against his belly muscles, appreciating the view of my very strong boyfriend stripped naked, blindfolded and handcuffed to the bed. 

“I-I’m okay,” he answered in the form of a whisper, almost like he was afraid to break the sexual atmosphere of the room, but I pouted. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. It made me feel like I wasn’t doing my job right.

“Only okay?” I had to clarify, running one of my fingers over his bottom lip, before pulling it down and biting it until I heard him gasp. “You’re breaking my heart, honey. Would you prefer if it was Keyra doing this with you?”

The reaction was immediate. His body tensed up, and by the abrupt movement of his arms, I could see he had tried to move them to hold me, but the restraints made it impossible for him to do so.

“No, darling. Absolutely not. You’re the only one I want like this, the only one I trust enough to share this experience with.” I melted. Who wouldn’t, after such a declaration from the man you love?

“I know, baby,” I calmed him, leaning down to press a quick kiss on his lips, watching in amusement as he tried to follow me in the hopes of deepening it. “I’m only messing with you.” I resumed the movements over his abs, needing to feel a little bit more friction on my clit. His answering groan warned me of how truly pained he was feeling at the whole situation.

“Not being able to see you grinding against my chest is the most terrible punishment you could administer.” I had to giggle at his dramatics. Only my bear of a boyfriend would feel so terrible at having his girlfriend controlling his pleasure for once.

“Well, maybe this way you can understand how I feel everytime you film a love scene with another person.” He sucked in a breath, immediately shutting up, and I almost felt bad about my honest remark, but I decided he was mature enough to be able to suck it up. He was the one to suggest our current activity, after all.

“You know what? I don’t see why your punishment should be mine, too. I wanna cum, and you’re gonna make me cum.” I climbed over his body until my legs were on each side of his face, and I tried to ignore the cheshire cat smile Henry was trying very hard to suppress at the prospect of eating me out. “You remember what you have to do when you need to come up for air? Ok.”

After making sure he was reminded of the safe gesture we had anticipated for this kind of activity (a bite on my inner thigh), I lowered myself to meet his waiting tongue, that stood perfectly pointed up at me.

“Fuck,” I immediately breathed out, as always pleasantly surprised at just how incredible Henry was at eating pussy. He treated it like some sort of exotic, delicious dish, and he loved how wet he could make me get just so there was more for him to taste. “You’re too good at this,” I jested, wrapping my fingers around his curls, taking advantage of the fact that he had allowed his hair to get longer for this last role. I loved it like this, I loved being able to use it to try to control his movements.

But tonight, I didn’t have to try. I was the one in control. 

I rode Henry’s face slowly, still too self-aware in this position, but the second his lips wrapped around my clit, I was a goner. Gripping the headboard in front of me, I let myself sit more comfortably in his face, trusting in his use of the safety measure if it was necessary, and I relaxed, enjoying the filthy symphony that my moans and his slurping sounds created in our bedroom. 

As my high approached, he must have sensed it, because his licking became more feral, growls escaping his lips and reverberating against me as I started to fully grind my pussy against his face, crying out every time I bumped on his nose.

And then, I flooded his lips with my essence, temporarily blacking out before scrambling to get out of his face, so he could properly breathe again. I felt like my heart was fluttering at the sight of his perfect lips arranged in a full-on pout.

“You didn’t let me enjoy my meal properly!”

“You’re not supposed to enjoy this at all, remember?” He still looked like I had deeply hurt him, so I leaned down to properly kiss him for the first time that night. Henry moaned against my lips when I deepened our kiss, allowing his tongue to dance with mine as I appreciated my own taste. When we separated again, I was slightly out of breath and his lips were a shade of pink that denounced just how roughly we’d been kissing.

“Didn’t take you for having an asphyxiation kink,” I whispered against his lips, making him smile. “Now, I think it’s about time I take care of you, huh? Let me help you.” Henry didn’t say anything to that, knowing a trap when he heard one. In fact, I could see that he was holding his breath, as I made my way down his body, until I was staring at his perfect cock. The second I wrapped my hand around it, a deep, guttural groan escaped from Henry’s chest.

“Well, someone’s been feeling deprived.” I smiled at my boyfriends chuckle, knowing that was the very idea of the exercise we were currently partaking in, only now it was time for the real torture. Slowly, I licked a strip from the base of his cock until his leaking head, allowing myself to shallowly suck the precum there before immediately releasing his member.  

“You do taste wonderfully,” I teased, licking my own lips to chase the remnants of his taste. My only response was another groan, this one more tortured than the last. “And we’re only getting started, baby.”

I leaned down to wrap my lips around his dick once more, this time going further down after spending a few minutes sucking on the head of his member. Each new inch I uncovered had me retreating until only the head was between my lips, until I was bobbing my head and sucking the life out of him.

Henry’s P.O.V.

Going from practically no stimulation to the best blowjob of my life was making me feral with the intensity of the reactions she provoked on my body. My heartbeat had accelerated to a point not even running could achieve, and I swear that if I was standing, my knees would have given out on me.

Within minutes, I could feel my sack weighing heavier, signaling a fast approaching release I knew she wouldn’t grant me. Still, I allowed myself to entertain the idea of cumming on her perfect mouth, filling her up with my seed and hearing her satisfied little moan at my taste on her tongue. 

“Hold it.” Two words, and yet the effect was instantaneous, if only because at the sight of me fighting against my restraints as my orgasm approached, she immediately retreated until only her fist remained on my erection, massaging it just enough to keep it alive.

The slow, shallow movements were worse than nothing at all, somehow. I couldn’t keep the disappointed groan that made her laugh from showing just how devastated I truly was, but her answering laugh came with the feeling of her warm cunt rubbing against the blunt head of my cock, so I felt like a reward was on the horizon for me.

“Do you miss this?” I knew what she was referring to, and I also knew the answer without even needing to think about it. There were few things I loved in life more than being inside of her, and in that moment, I couldn’t remember any of them.

“Madly.” She chuckled at my answer, and I could perfectly imagine her shaking her head at me, a cute little smile on her face as she averted her gaze, still incapable of accepting just how much I truly loved and desired her.

“How is it that you always know just what to say?” It was my turn to chuckle, but it turned into a hiss as she calmly positioned my cock over her hole and leisurely sat down on it, like it was no big deal at all.

I knew better, however. It was in the way her nails bit on my navel as the muscles in her thighs struggled to accept the tempo of the movement she was performing. I knew she was relishing in the burn of my member stretching her, like it always did anytime I penetrated her, no matter how thoroughly I fucked her nightly. She always struggled to take me in, and I can’t say it wasn’t a huge ego booster.

“Tell me what you want,” she ordered, and I licked my lips at the prospect of finally getting my way. 

“I want to fill that perfect little pussy until it’s dripping out of you, even with my cock still buried in there.” I didn’t have to see to know that she shivered at my words. I could feel it through the connection between our bodies, and I took devious delight in it.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Well, I couldn’t say that he didn’t earn it. Just his words were enough to get me hornier than I’d ever been before I met Henry, and my hips moved on their own accord, until I was riding him with an ardor I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. I didn’t even know I had the muscle strength to express it.

Nonetheless, we’re capable of a lot when we’re thrown in the fits of passion, I’d come to learn. And for Henry, I was pretty much down to do anything. So I just accepted the burst of energy and held on his chest for the ride, taking the opportunity to oggle my boyfriend freely even though I could see his beautiful eyes staring back at me. 

He still looked perfect, and absolutely ruined, his mouth open in a silent O as he panted and tried to thrust up against me as I fucked myself on his cock, but his desperation didn’t allow him to match our tempos. 

I still knew just how to make him cum with me, though.

Planting my knees on the mattress more firmly, I leaned over him to change the angle he was hitting inside of me, making sure the head of his cock was pounding against my sweet spot each time he was snuggled deep inside of me. And then, I threw myself back at his member furiously, determined to reach my own high and bring him with me. 

“Come on, honey, didn’t you say you wanted to fill me up? Here’s your chance. Fill me up, daddy. I wanna have your cum dripping out of me, making a mess on our bed. Please, cum inside of me. Please, please, please.” Each word that came out of my lips was accompanied by a jolt of my hips, and soon enough, Henry’s cock was twitching inside of me just when I, too, reached that euphoric high. 

I’d barely caught my breath and he was already struggling against the restraints, wordlessly begging me to release him, and I had to roll my eyes at his antics. “There you go, was that really so hard?” I asked after I’d freed him from the handcuffs and he immediately took off the blindfold, his hands coming up to squeeze a breast before rubbing all over my body, like he was trying to make up for lost time. 

“Darling, I think you know better than anyone just how hard I was.” I had to laugh, thankful to have his hands on me again after, in reality, depriving myself of his touch, but he really wasn’t wrong in what he was saying.

“Oh, yeah, I can attest to that. Specially since you’re still pretty hard inside of me.” Before I could understand what was happening, he had rolled us over until he was the one hovering over me, his cock still nested deep inside my pussy.

“And I know just the way to solve that problem.”

[shihalyfie]

Yamato, Adventure’s most dramatically emotional cast member

The “edgy cool bishounen rival” has been such a staple of shounen anime for years that the moment you look at Yamato and his position next to Taichi, it’s easy to go “ah, yep, there it is.” But just like how Taichi’s actually very different from the shounen hero stereotype, Yamato, despite what his first impression and character design might suggest, is in fact the complete opposite!

Actually, I’ll start this off with an interesting story from Yamato’s own voice actor, Kazama Yuuto:

Yeah. When my agent asked me which role I wanted to try out, I thought I couldn’t do a pretty boy character like him, so I was really astonished when I was chosen for the role. Afterwards, when I asked Kakudou-san [the director] about it, he said that he’d decided on me the instant I’d come in... I’d heard that Yamato was a cool character, which I thought was a part of him that didn’t agree with me. So there was that factor in the beginning. But I learned that he was actually quite similar to me, and a surprisingly passionate guy.

I don’t generally have a huge tendency to include voice actor comments in analysis about writing, but I do think it says a lot that even his own voice actor walked in expecting the typical “pretty boy rival” character to the extent that he felt he’d have difficulty doing the role at all, only for the actual nature of Yamato’s character to catch him off guard! Because, yeah, that really is the case: Yamato’s first impression really is very deceptive, and his actual personality is, indeed, full of open passion and emotion in nearly every way.

Yamato in Adventure

...No, really, it really does not take long for it to be very clear that Yamato’s immediately not like the stereotype his character archetype would suggest, considering that even as early as Adventure episode 2, he was depicted as very obviously being open about his opinions, even if that made him quick to criticize.

When you talk about “rival” characters, usually, the reason such characters seem cold and standoffish is that there’s a certain degree of pride to them, or, in other words, they want to keep up a facade of being “cool” and rational and thus aren’t quick to show their emotions. But Yamato isn’t like that at all! From the very beginning, he speaks often, is very open and honest about his thoughts, and doesn’t seem to even really care what others think at all.

The Adventure novels do, in fact, make clear that he was more closed-in prior to arriving in the Digital World, and these bursts of emotion were actually unusual behavior for him at the time -- but it’s not because he’s prideful or anything! Firstly, it wasn’t necessarily that he deliberately cut himself off from others -- rather, he was still willing to engage in some degree of friendly interaction:

It wasn’t because he was lonely. In fact, many of his classmates would greet him with a friendly “Yo!” or “Hi~!” when they came across him and, naturally, Yamato would respond back with a smile.

And, in fact, said novel indicates that there’s a lot going on deeper than him merely suppressing his emotions for the sake of it:

The people around Yamato may have thought that he was a cold, aloof person, but that was only because he didn’t show what he thought to other people. When had he become like that? He hadn’t been like that when he was younger. But after his parents decided to divorce and his mom took Takeru by the hand and left home… Don’t go! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me! The truth was, he had wanted to plead with her and cry — but he couldn’t. Part of it had to do with his father standing by his side. Maybe his mother had secretly wished for Yamato to say that to her. But at that moment, Yamato had thought that he would never show weakness in front of his mom, even if he died from it. It was his own decision to follow his dad. Ever since coming to the Digital World, even Yamato was surprised by how much emotion he expressed. All of the emotion that he’d held back while at home, at school, had come bursting out without pause.

It’s also important to understand the reasons why he blows up so easily at Taichi in Adventure episodes 3 and 6 and whatnot -- he does it because he’s constantly looking out for the others and worried about their welfare. Pretty much all of the arguments he has with Taichi for the majority of the series involve him objecting to his perception of Taichi as insensitive, because Taichi has a tendency to tease others or bid for everyone to keep pushing forward into dangerous situations or when they’re tired. So, really, Yamato gets angered and emotional and picks his fights with Taichi because he cares too much, not because he’s deliberately trying to cultivate an image of being detached. Once they were outside the range of his family and their classmates and stranded in another world, Yamato’s bleeding heart instantly won out, and he started advocating for the welfare of everyone else.

This is why Yamato’s the one who gets the Crest of Friendship, because even though he starts off by putting up a defensive wall between himself and the others and seems very difficult to deal with, even when he gets angry and upset, he’s constantly upset on other people’s behalf. Even from the very beginning of the series, he’s actually one of the most caring people in the cast!

Really, the entire first few introductory episodes with Yamato can be pretty succinctly described as Yamato coping really badly with all those years of emotional suppression and letting it out in some pretty severe outbursts, especially when it comes to Takeru, whom he’d never been able to properly take care of as an older brother due to their parents’ divorce. (And while he’s definitely a little better at managing it, Takeru himself is actually also doing a pretty bad job with that whole emotional suppression and lack of catharsis thing.) Standoffish and cold? Nah -- not when Yamato has the single highest count of openly breaking down and crying out of the whole cast in Adventure.

And, for all it’s worth, remember that stereotypical “cold rival” characters in this kind of shounen series would normally be very ashamed at others seeing them so emotional, but Yamato...doesn’t really seem to care about the others seeing him do some really embarrassingly reckless stuff during his episodes of exploding over Takeru’s welfare. Once it’s past him, he doesn’t really dwell on it and moves on. Again: Yamato isn’t the kind of person who actually cares that much about what other people think of him.

Adventure episode 18 is an often-overlooked episode when it comes to Yamato, but it’s significant because it makes it clear that he doesn’t really have a problem being conversational and friendly with others (especially since, remember, any emotional suppression had more to do with the trauma and sensitive feelings surrounding his parents’ divorce and a desire to not show weakness) -- he starts a very lighthearted, friendly chat with Koushirou over why they’re looking for their Crests, and even admits that the reason he wants his own Crest is that he’s self-conscious about the idea of everyone else changing and improving as people while he gets left behind. That’s a really personal thing to admit, and arguably something very sensitive! It’s something you wouldn’t even blame him for potentially being self-conscious about! But he’s perfectly humble in admitting that this is something he wants to improve in, and carries on this entire conversation in a light-hearted, cheerful manner.

This episode takes place during a time where everything seems to be “safe” (they’re within Piccolomon’s barrier and finally have a proper place to sleep), and are on the verge of finding their own Crests in a situation that does not ostensibly involve running for their lives, so this is when you get to see Yamato in a relaxed situation. And, really, he’s very friendly and open, with no restraint about it. He really isn’t the kind of person to be condescending or cold by nature!

It’s even more incorrect to pin Yamato as someone who tries to act more on rationality (again, like the “cold rival” stereotype would suggest) because, in fact, he’s the kind of person who gets completely carried away by his own caring for others to the extent of irrationality. For instance, in Adventure episode 23 when his conflicting loyalties to Takeru versus wanting to help Jou in his situation get all mixed up, and he tries to buy into PicoDevimon's trick to turn Jou against him as a solution to taking sides before Jou clearly indicates this is the case, and Yamato doesn't hesitate to feel really bad about it. Openly so. Condescension? Nah.

No, really, I could just keep taking screenshots from Adventure all day if you want evidence of “Yamato is openly and passionately emotional to explosive degrees because he cares too much about others, and makes no real pretense of hiding it.” If you’re still not convinced, I don’t know what to tell you.

When Yamato infamously succumbs to Jureimon’s bait in Adventure episode 44 and ends up picking a fight with Taichi -- possibly his most self-centered action in the entire series -- it’s interesting to see that Jureimon does use the word “rival”, the same word used in anime trope lingo to describe “the person you’re constantly fighting with and competing with in order to improve yourself”. The reason why this is fascinating is that Adventure is making a point here that this kind of “stereotypical anime rival” relationship would be extremely unhealthy for these characters.

No, really: at least as far as Yamato’s concerned, and what defines the kind of “friendship” these particular kids need, what these kids need is mutual emotional support, not engineered conflict that can be passed off as “they fight but it’s a sign of how much they know each other!” Remembering that Adventure is, in many ways, a series that prioritizes wanting to focus on portraying the intimate nature of human behavior, it’s not surprising that it goes out of its way to make clear that centering your relationship with a friend around needing to “outdo” them is a really bad thing. (Observe how 02′s Daisuke and Ken also don’t fit the “rivals” archetype at all and are merely a straightforward relationship of best friends in little to no conflict, despite occupying the stereotypical position.)

But Jureimon successfully digs into all of Yamato’s insecurities about his perceived lack of self-improvement and his tendency to compare himself to the polar-opposite Taichi in terms of Taichi’s charisma and way of (ostensibly) playing better to Takeru’s dislike of being coddled. And so, the engineered conflict happens, and, of course, it traumatizes everyone around them. When Yamato finally manages to get over himself after some timely intervention from “the one who seeks stability” (Homeostasis) in Adventure episode 45, everyone in the group is miserable from the ordeal.

Adventure episode 51 basically lays down the two major issues Yamato had been facing up until that point, and ties it into a neat bow: the reason Yamato had become so obsessed with self-improvement was because he wanted to prove he was "independent" and "not weak", but in the end, he still sees himself as an inferior person compared to everyone else -- culminating in him eventually seeing Taichi as a better person than him. Gabumon reaches out to Yamato by clarifying Yamato’s right to not compete, but be unique; it’s not about competing or being a “better” or “worse” version of others, it’s finding his important niche in the group or in the world with the things only he’s good at. Yamato says it in explicit words in Two-and-a-Half Year Break:

Dad doesn’t remember. On the day when we had to decide whether Takeru or I would go with him… Neither Dad or Mom could decide, so I did. I thought, this way, Takeru would be able to stay with Mom. I chose for myself. And after that, I always chose for myself. Or that’s what I’d planned to. Even though I was called a Chosen Child, it was me who was going to choose what to do. No way was I going to be used for other people’s convenience. Maybe that’s why I went so far to keep myself from making friends. But in the end, I acknowledged that what I was doing was unreasonable. After all, I’m not living in this world by myself. If I hadn’t met Gabumon, I never would have realized that. The person I am right now, is not alone.

As long as Yamato only ever sees himself as a replaceable piece meant to fill in the same niches as everyone else, he’ll continue to be horribly critical of himself for not being a perfect person and ultimately being “useless” or “not necessary”. But it’s not about being perfect or a better or worse replacement, it’s about embracing himself and what he can do in his own way, and, indeed, at the end of the episode, Yamato’s arrival on the scene makes it clear that the group ultimately needs both of them, not just one.

It’s also interesting in that, whereas most of the kids (especially in the Adventure finale) are very open about their own feelings to their own partners, Yamato and Gabumon are capable of “communicating” in some sense just by Yamato playing the harmonica. But it’s perhaps because Yamato is normally so open and passionate about his own feelings that such a tacit method is something they can do -- they’ve already bared themselves to each other so many times already, that in the end, all they need to do is just enjoy the abstract things together.

Yamato in 02 and after

So by the time we get to 02, any trace of coldness or detachment from Yamato has completely vanished.

I cannot emphasize this enough: completely vanished. Even in the middle of being a heartthrob for the teenagers in school thanks to his good looks and work with his band, he’s open and lacking in condescension whatsoever, and it’s basically like seeing the openly friendly Yamato from Adventure episode 18 for a whole series. Actually, it already says a lot that he’s in a band, considering it feels like shifting his music activities to a full-on band is there to make a deliberate statement that Yamato is now much better at socializing and working in organized groups now -- it’s a far cry from having to work solo or independently, and it’s significant that “the person who wanted to be able to do everything by himself” is now interested in doing something a bit more cooperative. (And to lend further to the idea he’s sentimental and constantly thinks of others, his band, the TEEN-AGE WOLVES, is all but confirmed to be named in indirect tribute to Gabumon.)

He’s open, conversational, makes a lot of silly faces throughout the series, and basically the only thing he has left that remotely resembles the “pretty boy rival” stereotype is that he’s deep in the aesthetic. But even then, you get the impression that he just does that because he genuinely likes it, not because he’s trying to be “cooler than you” or anything. And it’s easy to see why: Yamato, quite simply, got over himself. He stopped restraining himself all the time in his attempts to become a perfect person, and simply let himself loose to express himself how he wanted, and ultimately became a perfectly sociable and friendly person who’s now even popular at school!

Yamato’s punch on Taichi in 02 episode 10 is often taken as evidence that Taichi and Yamato embody the “rivals who constantly get in fights but are somehow still friends” trope, but this tends to avoid the actual context of the rest of the scene -- in fact, Daisuke himself rightfully points out that if Yamato had done this out of any actual anger or condescension, this would have been a really cruel thing to do to Taichi when he’s already going through so much. But Yamato’s not doing this out of resentment or condescension, he’s doing this for Taichi’s own sake to help him get out of his stupor, and the important part here is that he immediately holds out a hand to him afterwards. Or, in other words, this isn’t something they’re doing out of conflict, but out of communication, and it’s now at the point where Taichi understands Yamato’s intent, and Yamato knows that what he wanted to do would be conveyed to Taichi, without words.

That is why Taichi and Yamato are finally so close now: they understand each other’s feelings. They’re not competing with each other. They’re not resenting each other. They’re sympathetic and forgiving of each other, and they communicate, verbally or otherwise.

It’s followed by a scene in 02 episode 11 that’s also often construed as Taichi and Yamato advocating fighting as part of a healthy friendship, but, again, this omits context: they talk about their fighting in past tense! They’re referring as fighting having been part of the things they had to do to understand each other now, when they clearly aren’t in that kind of conflict anymore. The idea they’re espousing is that Daisuke and Takeru need to let out their feelings and have some catharsis if they want to truly understand each other (which is, indeed, how Taichi and Yamato eventually settled their differences) and hopefully get to a position of mutual understanding, instead of the others forcing them to have peace for the sake of peace and not letting their feelings get out on the table. (And, ultimately, Daisuke spends the rest of the episode thinking about Takeru’s position, and none of the 02 kids ever end up in this bad of a brawl for the rest of the series, yet manage to build a friendship in spite of that -- so, yes, the important part was that they had their feelings out in the open and got catharsis, not fighting in itself.)

Yamato also has an interesting role in the 02 drama CDs, including one entirely devoted to him (Letter). Said drama CD has quite a few things to note:

Gabumon says that Yamato being rather silent and not speaking up about what he’s thinking is unusual behavior for him.

As much as Yamato’s managed to do a better job opening up in general, he’s still suffering from extreme self-worth issues, considering himself as worthless if he’s not able to do anything for a girl in the hospital, even though it’s of course completely reasonable he can’t do much. Despite that, he continues to emotionally fixate on her welfare and basically self-flagellate and do a lot of pretty emotionally occupied things in the process.

Speaking of getting emotionally occupied, as much as he ends up snapping a bit at the people on the beach who keep annoying the hell out of him, he eventually feels so bad for the shaved ice seller that he forces himself to eat it just for him. (Even though it’s freezing.)

Yamato’s a really poetic person. Almost sappily so.

On top of that, Armor Evolution to the Unknown gives us an ever-so-slight glimpse of his dating life with Sora -- which, while he hadn’t been super-flagrant about, he also hadn’t been hiding either (he’s clearly willing to engage in a bit of PDA as per 02 episode 43), and, if the admittedly-kind-of-crack drama CD is to believed, he’s actually very emotionally passionate about his relationship to her, and very dedicated! Beyond just the (very sudden) passionate declaration of love to her in the middle of tap dancing, when Sora is found to have been worrying about him being cold lately, he immediately goes out of his way to try and make things right and prove his love...

Yamato’s initial appearance in Kizuna pretty much defines in a nutshell what his and Taichi’s relationship eventually turned out to be: they’re willing to banter because they’re comfortable with each other, but when it all comes down to it, they appreciate and trust each other deeply. Again, the point is that Yamato and Taichi are emotionally there for each other, considering that (even if he ribs Taichi a bit for it) Yamato’s willing to come all the way down to meet Taichi for late-night beer and talk to him through his emotional troubles.

And, yes, Yamato’s still there to be a concerned minder for Taichi and to make sure he doesn’t get too inconsiderate of what he’s doing -- but there’s no conflict over it, just the two of them balancing their necessary roles as part of the group and keeping each other in check. Again, as was made clear back in Adventure, it’s not about one person being more necessary than the other, it’s them both working together to fulfill their own roles.

As one of the central characters in the movie, Yamato’s also having an existential crisis of adulthood, and in his case, it’s that he’s playing everything too much by ear but isn’t really sure what he wants to commit to. He’s still enjoying music as a hobby, but it’s apparent he doesn’t want to commit to it as a career (which is, well, quite the common thing for those who have hobbies in middle school) -- and moreover, the novel indicates that it’s not bringing him happiness the way it used to. (The movie goes out of its way to depict Yamato feeling isolated with both a harmonica and a band, referencing that neither Adventure nor 02′s ways are doing it for him anymore.)

Beyond the motorcycle we see Yamato driving a few times in the movie, the official website profile makes it clear that this is one of his major new interests, and it’s presumably why he’s also attending an engineering school -- he can’t decide on a long-term goal, so he’ll at least experiment with the thing he likes. Yamato’s always been someone who thinks with emotions and feelings, so it fits him.

We also learn that he’s surprisingly studious, and is picking up some things that run contrary to his image (the glasses!), including the fact he seems to like school enough that he wants to do more school while he figures out what he wants to do. This is something that happens in real life for a certain kind of person in a career-based existential crisis -- as many people as there are who play very badly with educational structures, there are also people who rely very heavily on the structure of college or grad school basically handing you tasks to do on a plate, and find the job market to be scarier than staying within that bubble. It’s not too unreasonable to imagine that Yamato, who in certain ways has never really been the kind of person to assertively have an idea of “this is what I want to do!” and generally works by immediate feelings instead of long-term goals, would end up becoming that kind of person. As he says, it’s really just him trying to postpone the inevitable decision and get a grace period.

Since “shutting out one’s own partner (and therefore one’s own inner self)” is key to the cause of partner dissolution, Yamato’s way of it isn’t as direct as Taichi or Sora (who end up actively shutting out their partners in a bid to become an adult), but is most certainly there -- especially when he’s the one who drops a mocking line about the idea of bringing Gabumon to his school. (It’s not about whether it’s actually doable or not; it’s the fact that he laughs and scoffs at how stupid this is.) The fact he treats friends drifting apart as an “inevitable” thing, and eventually is shown very obviously to be keeping Gabumon out of the phone conversations (in stark contrast to the 02 quartet going out of their way to keep them involved on the other end) ultimately boils down to: neglect. Yamato’s coasting by on everything he likes, but it also means he’s just letting everything happen, instead of consciously pursuing things and passionately following things with gusto, the way he used to.

But we do see Yamato’s single-minded and passionate side come out again -- while Taichi shuts down and ruminates on what to do about his impending loss of Agumon, Yamato’s the one who desperately runs around trying to figure something out, recruiting the 02 quartet into it, losing sleep over it, and eventually having a passionate confrontation with Taichi as the climax approaches. (Note that this, again, is not a real conflict in nearly the same way the two of them would be spitting insults at each other all the way back in Adventure; it’s just the two baring their own feelings, and Yamato quickly accepts Taichi’s answer very easily because he, too, feels the same. Again: they’ve become very good at communicating.)

Yamato does eventually let Gabumon back into his periphery instead of neglecting him so much, and their final scene together in the movie involves them resuming their old method of tacit communication that they’d once shared together, with Yamato playing the harmonica. It’s a sign of Yamato finally embracing those things in the past that used to make him happy rather than cultivating an uncomfortable relationship with it just because he’d kicked it out of his career prospects, and ultimately coming to terms with what he likes and what makes him happy.

And speaking of career prospects...

The question of “why did Yamato become an astronaut?” is one that’s infamously weirded out people all over the globe because of how much it clashes with his image, and how much of a kind of “out-there” thing it is that had virtually no precedent whatsoever in Yamato’s prior hobbies. (Although, if you really think about it, space travel isn’t that huge of a hurdle as it sounds for a world like this where Digital Gates exist to bend space-time; you just send a probe with a Digital Gate link up there...) The original meta reason was, simply, that it was a holdover from one of the original ideas for the third Adventure series, in which they would be investigating forces that were obstructing evolution from space. (The original logical progression was that Adventure would have a threat from the Digital World, 02 a threat from the real world, so the theoretical third series would be space...) When you think about which of the original Tokyo Chosen Children would be the most likely to actively pursue this route, it actually is likely to be Yamato, given that Taichi is more of a person who’s an overall leader and coordinator, whereas Yamato, who’s much more up-front aggressive and openly passionate, would be more likely to want to tackle the situation with his own hands.

Kizuna -- or, more specifically, its novel -- offers another (and not mutually exclusive!) explanation:

While studying at graduate school, Yamato came up with a dream he had for his future. He wanted to study cosmology, and become an astronaut. The way there would not be easy. There was a whole mountain of things he’d have to do to get there. But Yamato had a certain ambition in mind. Someday, he was going to go to space with Gabumon. Whenever he thought of that future, Yamato was willing to do anything to get there.

Remembering that Yamato was at an engineering school (presumably originally from the motorcycles connection), it seems that he eventually “ran into” the career option by chance and happenstance, and thought about it and decided he wanted to follow it for the sake of going with Gabumon. It’s a very “romantic” and sappy kind of “out-there” dream, and, actually, that’s the point -- Yamato is a ridiculous romanticist, the kind of person who waxed about barbecue back in Adventure episode 6, and compared his relationship with Takeru to Hikoboshi and Orihime back in 02 episode 17, and spouted a bunch of poetic words at the sea during Letter. And, remember, he’s always been openly shameless and passionate about everything he’s felt and liked, and has never cared what other people would think.

And in the context of Kizuna, where Yamato was slowly losing touch with himself and his passions and eventually lost Gabumon as a result, it’s a very important sign that everything’s on its way back to healing, and that he’ll be able to achieve that future where they meet again.

[wastelandcth]

In the Mountains - cth

summary: who would've thought hiking with the boys would have ended up being so eventful? as the fifth member of 5sos with a crush on a certain bass player, you’re about to find out. 

author’s notes: thanks to @calumspupils for sending this request in! I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist || request

You didn't really know how you'd gotten to this point in your life. How you had ended up in a band with four people you'd give the world to, it all still seemed like a fever dream. Most mornings you'd wake up either on a tour bus or in a hotel room miles from home wondering if this was your real-life and it wasn't until you were sat at breakfast with your bandmates that you realized how grateful you were for the twists and turns that had led to your crazy life.

Some days you'd play shows and feel like you were on top of the world, rocking out on stage with your best friends. Some nights the views from the airplanes you'd grown used to being on took your breath away for so long you were afraid you'd actually imagined it all. That all the cameras flashing and fans screaming out lyrics you'd written with the four guys on stage next to you were a figment of your imagination and you'd wake up one day to find it all gone.

"Hey, I know you don't love hiking but...I'm sure we'll make it fun," Calum's voice rang out in the car, bringing you back to the moment at present, "And I'll be there to tell you all the jokes and point out cool rocks," he said with a wink.

Calum Hood. You'd turned your head to face him, the California sun was hitting his skin and making him glow. His bright smile adorning his face as the sunglasses he was wearing slid down his nose to reveal those brown eyes you'd fallen for. His soft voice and gentle teasing bringing warmth to your stomach that always seem to linger whenever you two were alone. It was something that you thought you'd kept to yourself, a little secret, but the comments online only left you a blushing mess.

If you were being honest, you'd been in love with Calum since the first months you'd spent with the band, getting to know each other and making sure you'd be a good fit into the group. those weeks had been filled with outings together where all five of you would spend hours on end telling stories about growing up and then laughing over how the internet blew up when they introduced you to their fanbase. But those few weeks were also spent trying your best to not make a fool of yourself in front of Calum, who seemed to always be at the right place whenever you stumbled or when your voice would crack while you were practicing alone.

You two had clicked instantly, both stuck to each other's hip as you took on the world. You'd write together, spending hours on a couch drafting out possible songs and humming along to tracks that had potential in matching the band's sound. You'd even become neighbors at one point when you'd first moved into the city to be closer for band work. He'd helped you move into the apartment next to his and you'd spent many weekends at each other's place, laughing over the awkward silences when you'd both caught each other glancing for a few seconds too long.

So you were in love with your bandmate, your best friend, with Calum Hood. How bad could it be?

Apparently, very bad. You and Calum had never been the subtle type and although you both pretty much knew there was more than friendship between you two, no one made a move to make it more. Ashton had asked you once when you two had gone out for lunch after a studio session.

"I just can't understand why you two haven't already gotten over it and got together. You'd thought about it, he's thought about it. Just do it," Ashton huffed, shaking his head as he watched you tense up and shake your head.

"The band is what's important, Ash. We can't let our feelings get in the way of fucking up what all five of us have created. He knows that and I do too," you'd replied, laughing quietly as Ashton only shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.

But Ashton was always one to try and make others happy in his own special way. And that's how you found yourself in the car with Calum on the way out of the city for a hike you were less than excited about. You knew Ashton was up to something when he'd texted the group saying that you and Calum would have to drive to the trail together since you wouldn't fit in his car with Luke, Mike, and their partners. As a form of payback, you'd purposefully told Calum to pick you up thirty minutes after the original time to make sure you were the last ones to get there because there was nothing more than Ashton hated than being late. And that's how you found yourself driving out of the city with Calum, lost in your own head over how beautiful he looked.

"Mhm, you always make things fun," you chuckled and winked back at him, "We're gonna need it especially now that we're late and Ashton will definitely kill us."

The hike had gone surprisingly good considering three of you were not the most athletics and Luke and Michael had constantly been racing seeing who could go the farthest faster. Ashton had tried his best to keep everyone on track until you and Calum had teased him about being the mom friend as he'd set up his phone on a rock to shoot an update video for fans to let them know about the band had been up to. It had all been going according to plan until you moved closer to Calum and twisted your ankle, ending up on the floor staring up at the blue sky.

"Oh my god, I'm going to die. Just leave me here to die because I'm not making it," you cried out, "This is the end of me!"

In a matter of seconds since your back had hit the ground, four familiar faces hovered above you, one of them looking more concerned than the others. The pain shot through your spine and down your leg, your eyes closing as you tried to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. Soon enough you found yourself being lifted up from the ground and a warm body pressed against your back. You could hear all the guys fighting over what to do, which meant your ankle wasn't twisted backward since none of them had screamed or puked their guts out. Their voices all mumbled into one as you breathed through the pain and it wasn't until Calum's warm breath was hitting your ear that you felt yourself take a deep breath in and open your eyes.

"I'm gonna stay here with you until Ash and the others can get a ranger to bring a car or something like that, okay?" he mumbled softly, his hand rubbing at your back as he helped you sit back against a rock.

"Please don't let my leg fall off, I need it to run on stage and to kick Michael when he steals my food," you whined.

"That's not gonna happen, okay? I think you just twisted it and it's all going to be okay, sweet girl," Calum mumbled and kissed your forehead, "Promise."

The sun was still high in the sky by the time you started thinking Ashton had left you both in the desert. You'd both been sitting on the ground together, watching as  your ankle grew and grew in size as the time passed by. The pain had dulled and your head was resting on his shoulder when your brain had started to think of the worst.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you were Australian. Us Aussies are known for our athleticism," Calum chuckled as he nudged your side with his elbow, "It's a well-known fact."

"I can do a better Australian accent than all four of you," you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you smacked his thigh, "And I can outrun pretty much all of you except Ash."

"Except right now."

"Calum Hood, I swear if you don't stop making fun of me-"

"What? Are you gonna hit me again? I dare you-"

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the heat of the sun beaming down on you both. Or maybe the fact that you were thirsty since Michael had taken the only backpack with water with him before you two realized it but Calum's lips looked very nice and it took no self-restraint for you to lean in and stop him mid-sentence.

"Maybe you should twist your ankle more often, huh?" Calum chuckled as you both pulled away, "Or bully you more often."

"Shut up and kiss me again, idiot," you laughed and pulled him back in for another kiss.

"Who knew all I had to do was get you two alone on a hiking trail for you to finally kiss, huh?" Ashton's chuckled made you both pull away, making you both look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh shut up, I'm never going on a hike with any of you again," you huffed and gratefully took the park ranger’s hand as he helped you on to what looked like a golf car.

It was a short trip back to the medical center, where they treated your very swollen ankle with ice while you downed all the water you could get your hands on. But you were grateful that Calum hadn't left your side once, his hand in yours as you squeezed it whenever you'd hit a bump or when the park ranger wrapped your ankle. His hand was still in yours as you both drove back to the city and it never left yours even when you both laid on the couch in his living room that night, drifting off in each other's company for once accepting that maybe, just maybe, this could be more than just stolen glances.

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop  @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @myloverboyash @notinthesameguey

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 59

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 4,078

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

*HIATUS WARNING*

This will be my last chapter update until the end of July or very beginning of August, due to me joining Camp Nano. If people are interested, I can link my nano page HERE if you want to see what progress I make. I haven’t created a Camp project goal yet, but I’ll be adding it soon. 

Clearing the Board

You stared at Negan in shock for a long moment, your brain’s frantic whirring grinding to a screeching halt as the subconscious watched with mouth so agape that the gum it had been chewing fell unnoticed to the floor. 

Had he been thinking the same questions as you the entire dinner? Part of you wanted to bolt, terrified to know what was on his mind. Was this where he pulled the rug out from under you and said things were getting too cozy, that he wanted to back track? Did he want to go back to his wives? Or maybe he wanted to try and make you into another one of them? 

Breathe. Just breathe and see what he has to say, before you start hyperventilating. 

Clearing your throat and licking suddenly dry lips, you hoarsely said, “Uh...yeah...we do.” 

As if this was the permission he was waiting for, he gave a curt nod and started talking. He was so focused and straight to the point that you wondered if he had rehearsed this prior to you showing up. If so, he had done a much better job of preparing than you had. 

“I wanted to apologize for last night. Not just for the way I attacked you, though I do fucking apologize for that, but for how I acted after.”

At this, he paused and ran a hand slowly down over his mouth and beard, and you realized how difficult this conversation was for him, how much he still struggled to be open and honest and sincere with another human when he’d had to learn the hard way to be tough and mean and impenetrable. It made you feel validated regarding your own struggles, as well as grateful that both of you were stepping outside your comfort zones and trying to communicate. 

“Doll, there’s just some shit that I don’t like to fucking relive. It has to happen, whether I fucking want it to or not, and once it’s done, it’s done. I don’t always want to rehash events, or talk about how I feel, because the answer is probably that I feel like fucking horse shit. It’s nothing personal against you, it’s just me wanting to fucking move on. The same way you told me the other night that I gotta trust you not to always give me all the fucking details? Well, same goes when the shoe’s on the other fucking foot.”

You sat there and took this in, brain having pulled out a tablet to take frantic notes, and subconscious still staring in shock with its foot unknowingly stepping right in the middle of the dropped gum wad. Of all the ways for tonight’s conversation to go, no part of you had expected Negan to not only take the lead, but go in the correct direction needed to pulverize one of the newly-created questions you had thrown into the padlocked box. 

Once he said the words out loud, it did make a lot of sense. You had seen it as wanting to connect with him and support him, if he would just explain what had happened on the run to upset him. However, some things might be better left unsaid, so as not to make the person relive the events and the emotions tied to them. What you had seen as him shutting you down was actually him trying to move on from unsavory events (and actions he’d had to complete in his role as leader). Add to that his comparison to your conversation the other night, where you had expected him to be okay with you not giving all details about certain events, and you couldn’t believe how much you had blown his recent actions out of proportion.

You had been quiet for a few long moments, during which he was watching you closely. He tried to make his expression neutral, but the unnatural stillness of his tensed body and the focused intensity of his hazel gaze gave away how much weight he was putting on what your response might be.

 Picking your words carefully, you broke the silence. “Thank you for explaining that, because I did wonder why you turned down my offer to talk last night. I respect your right to not tell me everything about what you have to do in order to keep control of the Sanctuary and other communities. However,” you held his gaze, making sure he saw your sincerity. “I want you to know that I’m always here for when and if you do want to talk about it. Any of it.” 

He was unresponsive for a few seconds, as if the tables had turned and now he was the one a bit surprised at how calm and clearly you had voiced your agreement. Then, a soft smile broke across his face, and he said, “I know you are, doll.”

You gave a small smile, beyond relieved to have that topic discussed and out of the way. Your brain was proud of the two of you for talking it out, while the subconscious was preoccupied with cursing and hopping around on one foot while frantically trying to use a stick to scrape the smeared gum off the bottom of its shoe. Like it, you now flailed about for how to move on to other concerns. The door of communication had been opened, and you didn’t want him to slam it shut now that the thing he’d wanted to get off his chest was done. 

“There’s some other things I think we need to talk about,” you said. When his eyebrows raised in a nonverbal for you to continue, you started nervously fidgeting with your dinner napkin.

Shit, where did you even start? How to accurately say what you were thinking and feeling about this relationship with him. He had obviously noticed you pulling back that day in the woods, and while you had been quick to start blurting your feelings when in a post-orgasmic haze, the words now stuck in your throat and refused to come out. 

That ball of self-doubt was creeping in, telling you to shut the box back up and get out of there. It whispered how maybe now that Negan had fucked you, the “game” was almost over and he wouldn’t be as interested. That the moment you started placing expectations on the two of you, he’d tell you to leave his rooms and not come back. 

Looking down at the napkin, which was now twisted and crumpled from anxious hands, you tossed it down on the table and abruptly stood up, unable to continue the farce of sitting still. You pushed the chair into the table and stood there for a few seconds before giving a frustrated groan and pacing over to his armoire and back. 

It was quite the role reversal, you pacing back and forth while he sat there, silently watching. Your hands gestured wildly in front of you, as if trying to act out what you couldn’t say. You started to talk a few times, but it came out as a sputter of nothingness, causing you to pace back and forth yet again. After a couple rounds of this, you finally stopped behind the dinner chair, hands gripping the back of it until your knuckles turned white. The two of you stared at one another, his forehead furrowed in concern at your mini meltdown.

“Doll,” he said, voice low and calming. “Tell me.” 

Just say it. Tell him you’ve fallen for him. 

But you couldn’t. The emotions were right there, but it didn’t feel right to just blurt them out. Three little words that some people tossed around like pennies, and you couldn’t say them when it mattered. 

You looked at him desperately, willing him to throw a lifeline and take back over the conversation, to tell you to forget it and act like this moment had never happened. Instead, he finally moved into action, standing from his own chair and rounding the small table to stand in front of you. 

He didn’t reach out, didn’t try to hold you, as if he knew that the slightest touch would cause your taut as a bowstring form to burst into a million pieces. His hands instead clenched at his sides in a nonverbal show of restraint. He knew that whatever you were struggling with was important, while at the same time realizing he couldn’t force it, and that the direction of the conversation depended entirely on you. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” 

There was more authority to his tone this time, but it was the slight hint of worry making it go up in pitch at the end that propelled your own voice to finally get its shit together and start working. 

“There’s nothing wrong, I just…I don’t know how to say it.”

“Fucking say what? You’re killing me here, doll.” 

You looked at him, took in this strong and seemingly impenetrable, yet surprisingly caring and passionate man who had shattered all of the emotional defenses you had strategically built in order to keep yourself safe. And suddenly, you knew exactly how to tell him in a way that he, and only he, would understand. 

“Remember when you said that the game is over when the king is captured?”

Surprise flickered in his gaze, as he obviously wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. However, he quickly caught up, giving a curt nod. 

“I know technically the queen is expendable, and the game can continue on without her, but-” voice cracking a bit, you paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “What the hell does one do when the opposite happens?” 

You saw the moment the realization hit, making him go completely still. Saw the moment he pieced everything together but still held back, as if afraid maybe he was misinterpreting it. 

His face looked wrecked when he husked, “What are you saying, doll?”

Emotion welled in your eyes as you verbally let go, whispering the confession that had been held in for long enough. 

“The king’s captured me.”

He broke the physical distance then, his eyes bright with emotion as he wrapped one arm around your waist and cupped your face with a warm palm. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your lips that was so soft and gentle you almost wanted to cry. When he lifted his head, you felt overwhelmed by the adoration in his gaze, but that was nothing compared to the words he then spoke.

“Well doll, I’d say that’s only fucking fair, since the queen’s captured me too.”

Shock coursed through you, followed by a rush of emotion so strong it would’ve knocked you on your ass if he wasn’t there to clutch onto. 

He feels the same! Holy fuck, not only did he understand, but he also feels the same!

The two of you kissed again, long and slow, until your surroundings faded away and there was only him. It could’ve been mere moments or long minutes before your lips parted from his, as time currently had no meaning outside the count of his breaths on your face and beat of his heart under your palm flattened on his chest. 

You felt dizzyingly happy, and the padlocked box was tons of pounds lighter. However, there were still a few spiky balls of questions sitting in the bottom of it, and it was time to empty them out. All of them. 

“So,” you said, fingers tracing up over his exposed collarbone and strong throat. “What happens next, after the king and queen capture each other?”

Giving a much softer version of his usual devilish smirk, he replied, “They lay down their weapons, recall their fucking armies, and rule the board together.” 

Grinning like a fool at that, you wound your arms up around his neck and murmured hesitantly, “So what does that mean for the others? What does the king do with the five of them?”

Once again, the metaphor was not lost on him, and you felt the slightest stiffening of his body against yours as he pulled his lips from where they had been tracing along your ear lobe and looked down at you. 

Shit, did you go too far? Maybe you should’ve just stopped while you were ahead and not crossed into that topic of conversation just yet…

“What do you want me to do with them, doll?” 

You definitely weren’t expecting that as a response, as shown by your staring blankly up at him for a few seconds before saying, “Isn’t that your choice?”

He gave an amused tsk of disapproval. “No, that’s not how it works when we both rule the board. Each partner gets a say, and then we figure it out together.”

Did he just...call you… “Is that what I am?” you asked, heart inflating like a bubble at the possibility. 

“I mean, we can stick with just calling you my queen, if that’s what you want, but I think partner also has a nice fucking ring to it.” 

His partner. Not his wife, or girlfriend. Partner. 

Stretching up to give him a kiss of approval, you said, “Partner is perfect.” 

Deciding to go all in, you added, “And I only want you, no one else. I want you to be the person I snuggle up against each night, and the one whose bed I wake up in each morning knowing that I belong there. I want to walk proudly beside you and know that you’re mine, as much as I’m yours.” You hesitated, a small dart of worry at the brutally honest words making you feel the need to ask, “But what do you want?”

The playful light was back in his eyes, that sinful tongue running over his bottom lip. “I thought I already made that fucking obvious, doll. But if I didn’t, then listen very closely.” 

His lips traced over your face, leaving butterfly kisses on your cheeks and nose and forehead as he spoke the words. “I want you. Fucking simple as that. I’ve wanted you, and only you, since the day you fucking kicked my ass at chess.” 

This was technically information you already knew, thanks to Trixie, but hearing it from him made it that much more real. It was as if even though all the signs were there, you still didn’t want to fully believe you were the reason for his change in behavior with the wives, not until he confirmed it himself. 

Trying to add a bit of lightness, you hummed in pleasure at his lips kissing the sensitive spot on the curve of your neck and quipped, “Who knew all it would take was a game of chess for me to stand out.”

Giving a huffed laugh, he said against your skin, “If you think that’s the only way you fucking stand out, you’re even more oblivious then I fucking thought.” 

“Hey! Are you telling me I’m weird or something?” you laughed, playfully tugging at his hair so that he raised his head to look at you. 

“Wellllll…” he joked, smiling broadly before his expression got a bit more serious. “In all honesty, doll, I’ve respected the hell out of you since the moment you arrived here.”

Eyebrows raising, you said, “Oh? Do go on.”

His eyes danced with mirth, but his words were uncharacteristically sincere. “Despite being scared shitless when my men first found your little group, you never fully submitted or lost your fight. You marched right into the Sanctuary like you were gonna own the whole fucking place, or at least own the kitchen, which you did in a ridiculously short amount of fucking time, I might add. I felt like a fool for asking you to be another wife and expecting you’d be happy just sitting around looking pretty.”

You gave a haughty grin, but let him continue, knowing that confessions such as this were few and far between with Negan. And you were going to soak in every affectionate word like a desert does the rain, because as much as the actions and nonverbals fed your heart, his words were what now fed your soul. 

“I knew you’d be trouble the the first time I walked in the kitchen to check on things and you refused to fucking kneel with the others, staring me down in a way that said you were demanding to be treated at my equal, and just daring me to try and fucking do something about it. It was that same daring each time we were alone that drew me in like fucking catnip, and while the smart thing would’ve been to stay away, when I found you out in the fucking woods about to be walker chow and totally going against my orders, it gave me the perfect opportunity to force you closer. I knew I should stop sending for you, stop finding reasons to visit the kitchen or order you to bring me trays, but damn doll, you were too fucking exciting to walk away from.

“The day you beat me at chess, you were so fucking proud of yourself, and I realized that instead of being pissed, I was proud of you too. I knew I had a spitfire on my hands, and damn if that didn’t make my dick hard.” His voice lowered a bit, so that you held your breath in order not to miss a single word. “But it wasn’t until that first outing together in the woods, when you killed that walker and saved my fucking hide, that I realized I was done for. That I might as well throw down my crown because the king had been captured, and the game was over.”

You thought back to that day, to the kiss and the look in his eyes afterward. Had you known back then? Possibly, but you never would’ve admitted it to yourself, not at that point. You felt a lump start to form in your throat, eyes blinking rapidly in an effort not to tear up. And you would have succeeded, damn it, if not for his next words.

“I tried to fight it, to fight you. Hell I almost got you fucking killed by chasing you out of here, and all because of my own fucking stubborn pride. I’d never hated myself as much as I did in that moment, when we found you lying injured in the fucking woods. I’ve loved and lost, more than any man should, but...the thought of losing you was what almost ruined me.”

Tears trickled down your cheeks in cool rivulets. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered. Hell, if you had known all of this a bit earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have hesitated to talk things out. Wouldn’t have held back as much as you did. 

Giving a self-deprecating smile, he said, “Because I’m a fucking idiot. But also because every time I considered it, you’d fucking pull away. I would’ve claimed you publicly as mine weeks ago, but you about had a god damn heart attack anytime there was a chance someone might see us getting fucking cozy together. I could practically hear the fears and doubts whirring around in your head the last few days, so I took the coward’s way out and tried to halt those thoughts by repeatedly fucking you any chance I got, until you were too exhausted to overthink.” 

He had meant the words to make you laugh, but instead you suddenly felt overwhelmed. Your stupid eyes wouldn’t stop watering, and if you weren’t careful your nose would start clogging up too. You had always been jealous as hell of women who could cry prettily, because you definitely weren’t one of them. 

You tried to school your features, tried to put on at least a thin mask of “I’m fine, totally fine” but more tears followed by a hiccuped sob escaping your lips said otherwise. You unwrapped your arms from his neck in order to press a hand to your mouth in an effort to try and stifle the emotions leaking out. 

“No,” he said, stern enough to jolt you out of the overanalyzing spiral your brain wanted to jump down. 

Pulling your hand away from your mouth with a gentle but firm grip, he clasped it between his own hands. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you asked. 

Lifting one hand, he used his thumb to brush away the tear sitting stubbornly on the middle of your cheek. “Don’t do what you did last time. Don’t hide from me again.” 

Sighing, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but it would be nice if one of these times it was you crying and not me.” 

Humor was a mask of its own, one both of you used to cover up emotions. However, since you were standing there with red-rimmed eyes and he had just verbally confessed his emotions more in the last few minutes than he probably had during the rest of the apocalypse combined, you both deserved a bit of humor. 

“The day that happens, I might as well just chop off my dick and fucking hand that over as well,” he joked back, causing you to smile and shove at him playfully. 

Giving an exasperated sigh, you said “I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb about all of this, thinking...well, assuming totally incorrect things. Guess that’s what I get for not trying to just talk it out.” 

He gave you a mock-stern expression and said, “Well, then let this be a fucking lesson.” He used two fingers to point at your eyes and then at his own, and back to yours. “Partners, remember.”

God, you loved the way that word rolled off his tongue. It was exactly what you had always secretly hoped to find with a man: an equal partnership. Sure, Negan was still the leader of the Sanctuary and had the role of badass motherfucker to uphold, but at the heart of things you stood on equal ground, and your thoughts and feelings and opinions mattered just as much as his own. Not to mention, you would dare him to deny that you were the leader of the kitchen staff. And hey, there was a lot of power in being the one in charge of making sure the entire community was fed. And the fact that he didn’t want to take any of that away from you, that he was proud of your accomplishments, made you fall for him even more. 

“Partners,” you agreed with a nod, running a hand up over his chest. Fingers traced his strong, masculine features before running up into his hair to map the streaks of salt among the pepper. 

Eyes brightening with desire, he stared with laser focus down at your mouth, his nostrils flaring as he watched your teeth subconsciously nibble on your lower lip as you took in this handsome man who was yours. All yours. Seeing the intent in his gaze and knowing where this was about to go by the sudden tensing of his muscles for action, you pressed your other hand against his chest lightly and said, “Wait, one more thing. I have a request.”

“Name it,” he said without hesitation.

“Um...this might seem a bit random, but is there any way you could bump Simon up to having a single room?” When Negan looked at you in slight bewilderment, you continued, “That way Ben can visit whenever he wants.”

His brows lowered, and you were afraid he was going to dismiss the issue as not important, so you pressed on. “In all honesty, it was Ben’s insistence that I be honest and talk things out with you that helped push me to say what I did tonight. I kinda owe him.”

The unspoken words were that Negan kinda owed him too, and his scowl said that he heard them loud and clear. With a slight huff, he grumbled, “I’ll see what I can fucking do.”

Giving a wide smile, you stood up on tiptoe and planted a very grateful kiss on his lips, with tongue included. Pulling back a bit, you whispered against his mouth, “I’d love to see what you can fucking do.”

At that, he scooped you up into his arms with a growl and strode into the bedroom, where he then proceeded to spend a good portion of the night showing you just how thoroughly captured the king really was.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Extra Author’s Note: Holy crap, was I nervous af to post this chapter. I feel like so much has been building to this conversation between You and Negan, and I wasn’t sure how readers were going to feel about it. I know some people were expecting more drama and angst, especially since this is about the time that romance novels usually throw in the so-called “third act conflict”. However, I personally find it pretty annoying when that conflict is some form of unneeded miscommunication or lack of communication, followed by the characters being apart for a period of time and then coming back together in one grand gesture before bam, an abrupt ending where you’re to expect them to live happily ever after with no more issues. 

Instead, I had You and Negan do that earlier in the fic, with the “Confrontation” chapter where they royally fucked up and had to stumble their way back together, followed later by the pregnancy test argument where they started to fuck up but then both broke their unhealthy fight cycle (You did this by walking away and Negan did it by going after her and deciding to actually listen). And now, with this chapter I wanted to showcase their growth and how they’ve learned enough from past mistakes to move forward. Some people might see this chapter as too fluffy, but I saw it as a way to show two grown ass adults finally laying down their emotional shields and communicating in an open and healthy manner. At this point, I thought Negan and You deserved that, and I hope y’all agree. 

Whether you loved it, hated it, didn’t care, all of the above, etc, please feel free to let me know. I’m so so curious to hear what people thought of this chapter, and if what I was hoping to showcase came across in a satisfying way. Thanks for reading! I’ll be back with more updates after Camp Nano! <3

[princesscandijane]

Chastity Tips by Candi Jane

These tips are coming from the perspective of a sissy(me😀), these things still help without the sissy element.

I have been hearing sissys keep saying that you want to do long term chastity, but are too weak. I am hearing about how you want to feel helplessly desperate and horny. But as you get too horny and before you reach helplessly desperate you grab the key, unlock your little clitty, and jerk off. Then you have to start the process all over. Ideally you would have a keyholder, someone that forces you to keep honest, but most of us are not fortunate enough to have one. So here are some things that may help. Notice how I always use the plural for keys? Chastity devices come with more than one key, so make sure you are keeping them all together😁

Mail your keys to yourself:

Pretty self explanatory, take a self-addressed envelope, put a stamp on it, seal your keys in the envelope and mail it away. This is a great one to get the keys completely out of your possession and away from you for a period of time.

Though I recommend at least using your real address so the keys get back to you 😜

Depending on how the mail runs in your area this could be a 2-5 day event, for the cost of an envelope and a forever stamp. If you mail it on Saturday night after pickup, the mail will not get picked up until as early as Monday, so that is an extra 36 hours. There are also holidays to consider in which the mail doesn’t run, so if you mailed your keys after pickup on Saturday of Labor Day weekend, the earliest the mail will pick up your keys will be Tuesday. By that point you will have already had almost 3 days of chastity, add that to how well the mail is in your area, you may end up in a week in chastity! That is not even mentioning mailing during the holiday season when the mail is at its busiest, at that point you may be hoping that the keys did not get lost in the mail 😬 Which is one downside to consider when mailing. How well do you trust your postal service? Sometimes things do get lost in the mail 🤷‍♀️

Freezing your keys:

This one does require you to have a fridge/freezer that you can use to freeze your keys. This one is a bit difficult to do if you share your fridge/freezer. Unlike mailing the keys to yourself, the keys will be with you, so there does require a little bit more restraint, but this can be a lot of fun. I had a lot of fun experimenting with this one, a proper sissy school girl doing proper sissy science 😚 So first and foremost don’t do what I did first and use a glass bottle. I first tried putting the keys in an old glass liquor bottle. That was a horrible idea

DO NOT USE A GLASS CONTAINER

As I learned, as water freezes it freezes from the outside in and expands which makes the frozen water less dense than the liquid water which is why ice floats. I also learned that it is a really strong force and will break the glass, as I learned when the bottle neck broke in my hand and crashed to the floor 😨 I was not injured😅

So next I used a plastic gallon jug, which has a couple of pluses. First and foremost it will not break into harmful pieces(at worst crack open), and second a gallon is more than twice as large of volume as the normal 1.75L that the large liquor bottle has (3.785 liters = 1 gallon) so it will take longer to defrost. Second mistake I made was dropping the keys in the bottom to freeze.

As everything melts from the outside in, this would be the first to defrost and makes the size of the container mostly obsolete. Solution: I tied the keys to a string, lowered it down until it was halfway in the container and taped the string to the jug.

Do not fill it to the top, remember water expands as it freezes so be sure to give it room. Freezing takes about 24 hours. I recommend checking in on it periodically, because ice freezes from the outside in and you will see your keys floating surrounded by its ice prison, and if needed you can add more water.

The first time I froze the keys in the gallon jug(keys at the bottom), I checked how long it took to defrost at 74F in the shade, and it took less than 8 hours. Those that are familiar with cooking meats, know that ideally you wouldn’t defrost at room temperature, but allow it to defrost in the refrigerator. After 24 hours of freezing I put the jug in the refrigerator. Following times are based on my fridge being set at the factory recommended coolness.

After a day the water on the outside has melted, so if my keys were at the bottom I would be able to pour them out at this point.

After 3 days the ice has defrosted enough in which I can now start to see the keys trapped in its frozen prison

Every day I see a bit more ice thawed, slowly and slowly seeing my keys becoming closer and closer to freedom

Finally after 7 days I see my keys floating freely in liquid water

Only one problem

The ice above is not thawed enough to let me pull the string out 😫 So I put it back in the fridge, and five hours later my keys were free!

From freezing to thawing was just over 8 days of chastity.

So the numbers I have for a gallon jug of water is: freezing - 1 day, thawing at 74F in shade ~ 8 hours, thawing in the fridge ~ 173 hours.

During this time you can start focusing on doing important things. At the longest it is 8 days, and that is plenty of time to accomplish things. Many sissys have maid fantasies, well use that time to clean your home, not just a little clean, but really deep clean your house(bonus if you have a uniform). Imagine your mistress/master will be inspecting it later. Ask yourself, “Would I want to serve someone that accepts this kind of work?” or “If I paid a couple hundred dollars for cleaning service, would I be satisfied?” whichever🙃 As you are locked up and cannot jerk off, you can start practicing on your blowjob and anal skills. Use this time to learn to deep throat, or work towards that ever elusive sissygasm. Set goals at the beginning of things that should be done by the time the keys are defrosted.

Because the keys take 8 hours to defrost at room temperature, certain tasks can equal x amount of time out of the fridge. Such as if you are practicing your deep throat skills, every time your nose touches the wall/floor equals five minutes out of the fridge. 8 hours would be roughly 100 times, or even for every second your nose to the wall/floor is five minutes. That gives over a minute and a half total of your throat being filled 😄 Cleaning your home can work in similar point systems too. Each chore is x amount of points, some may be more than others, as cleaning the bathroom takes a lot more than doing laundry(unless you are washing by hand). They don’t have to be sissy/sub tasks. You can make some of them for your better wellbeing. Such as, maybe you are someone that needs some motivation to get in shape. Have each mile jogged/walked/run can equal half an hour. Or can go simple and for the amount of time you spent working out is the amount of time spent out of the fridge. The plus side is you can work on your sissy figure and improve your regular quality of life 😁 These goals can really be for anything that you may need to work better on yourself, like reading more(yes I am talking to you), learn/practice a new language, learn/practice an instrument, even things that will help improve your career(insert your own examples lol). These are only a few examples. But make some tasks/goal(what needs to be accomplished) and rules(the rewards of completing a task and punishment for failing). Simple punishment is it goes back in the freezer. Remember to make sure your tasks/goals are realistic, and don’t try to tackle too many things at once. So often people get this huge motivation and think of all of these things they are going to do, but then when things aren’t working out the way they planned they give up. Schedules get made and when we can’t maintain them we give up. That is how those 10 dollar gyms are successful, their pay plan only works when the majority rarely/never show up. So if you set a really high goal that is unrealistic, say from never exploring anal to wanting to take Captain Ameica’s cock(see Chris Even’s cock) in that time period, maybe unrealstic. Or spending an hour a day working on your blowjob skills. Or the working out goal, you plan to run 2 miles every day, or every other day. That sounds great in theory, but if we fail to meet it we have a tendency to give up. You start out good for a day or two, then on day three you make an excuse on why you cannot and by day 5 you feel your goal is too far out of reach and give up. If that is the case, then adjust your goal and the tasks along with it, the first one may have been too ambitious. So if your goal/task is too difficult, instead of giving up on it, adjust it. Maybe I should be a Sissy Life Coach lol 🙃 Make the goals realistic, try to better yourself as either a sissy or even in your regular life. These are just some of my ideas on this.

I say this as doing this by yourself, but this is something that can be done in a keyholder relationship. And the keyholder can devise the tasks that serve them best.

Freewill:

Now freezing does take some freewill, there are plenty of ways to cheat, and get around things. It isn’t instant, but still freewill is required. Freewill doesn’t require you to freeze or mail or anything. So this last tip I have is: try to get better than the last time. I say this over and over, but remember baby steps. I did not go from buying my first chastity to 60+ 24/7 consecutive days. It took time and practice. I went an hour, then maybe two hours. If I got too horny or it got too painful, I would take it off. The next time I would try to go longer. My first attempt to sleep in chastity I gave up not even halfway through the night, it became too uncomfortable. I worked my way from there, now I prefer to sleep in chastity. So each time try to get better than the last, and if you fail, unlock and jerk off, or if you complete the time and are rewarded with unlocking yourself, well that’s a perfect time to work on becoming a cum eater 😛(again baby steps). If you always lose the urge after, then try to push yourself to at least bring some of it to your face, after that push yourself to taste just a little, and then go from there until you are eating it all 🤤 It may take some months but keep working at it😀

Have fun and drink cum ❤❤❤

[smallerinfinities]

mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.  

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole​ @lordof-bloodshed​ @courtofjurdan​

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

aight SO

i finished ep 12 and i've talked about it with a friend, and now i've also taken a look into the tarlos tag to get a sense of what people are saying. i think i'm ready to break this down.

so there are a few big questions about That Scene and the following tarlos interactions. i'll just work through them one at a time. buckle in, this is gonna get long. now without further ado...

1) Was TK lashing out at Carlos at the firehouse in character?

Short answer: yes and no.

Long answer: we've seen TK get physical and even violent before. He literally sought out a bar fight in s1. He nearly got into a fist fight with Judd, too. And did you see the way he was hurling darts after that, when he and Carlos were on their date? This boy is not a stranger to getting physical. There are, however, a few major differences between those scenes and this one with Carlos.

One. The bar fight was premeditated, while his fight with Carlos was not. Why is this important? Because it means that TK has shown some measure of restraint in the past. He managed to stay present during what I would call the 'trigger' of the bar fight episode, and saved his physical response for a later time.

Two. His altercation with Judd, on the other hand, was not premeditated. The difference, then, is that Judd was also ready to get physical at the time. With the scene with Carlos, Carlos was trying to remain calm and impartial for most of it, and attempted to de-escalate when TK got violent. The whole thing was driven by TK.

Three. In none of the scenes we've seen before of TK getting violent has his dad's health or safety been threatened. TK's dad is a HUGE part of his life, and he has a LOT of emotional trauma surrounding his relationship with his dad. He's TERRIFIED of losing Owen, because he's nearly lost him so many times before. TK has some MAJOR anxiety about losing people, to the point where he refused to let Carlos into his heart at the beginning of s1. There's also the fact that TK has gone through a lot of trauma in not a lot of time. Even if the show wants us to believe the kidnapping is over, I'm willing to bet that the after-effects are still hitting. For both TK AND Carlos, honestly.

There are also two other lines to consider when we're talking TK's characterization: first, in the episode when Gwyn moves out, and we see her and TK talking, she then calls Owen who asks if TK 'flew off the handle' (i believe that was the wording, correct me if I'm wrong). This is important because we have two people who are VERY close to TK talking about how he reacts to things, the crux of which is that TK gets reactionary. He has high emotional responses and says (or does) things that he doesn't necessarily mean.

Then there's another line that I think is important. This is the one in the crossover episode, when TK tells Buck that he's 'done a lot worse than steal a fire truck'. This one is important because it's TK talking about HIMSELF. We don't have any context for this or what it means, necessarily, but I'm willing to bet from context that he wasn't just talking about ODing.

So with all this in mind... do I think TK was in character? Do I really think TK would do this? Well... it makes sense in the context of TK's story and his arcs and all the scenes we've seen him in so far. But, at the same time, I would definitely have done it differently. It's a thing like... it's not a WRONG answer, but then again, was it really right, either?

2) Was Carlos's reaction to TK lashing out in character?

Short answer: yeah, I think so*.

*though if they don't expand on it I'm gonna have a problem.

Long answer: Carlos, at this point in the story, is dealing with two things that I think impact his emotional landscape a HELL of a lot.

One. His past and his family. He grew up with a man who seems emotionally distant, and it has only VERY RECENTLY started to get better. He felt INCREDIBLY alienated after he came out, and then when he became a cop and he was dealing with his father's silent disapproval. He is always searching for approval and, most likely, affection as well. What this means is that he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself, and bases his self worth on how OTHER people react. If someone reacts badly, that's a mark against himself.

"But Kay," you say, "What about the scene where he made dinner for TK and TK walked out? Carlos didn't blame himself then!"

Which is an interesting point! Carlos didn't put the onus on himself in that scene, he turned it back on TK, calling him 'crazy'. I think that was a secondary coping mechanism, to be honest. He knew he couldn't deal with feeling like he was the one who was wrong AGAIN so he twisted the situation around in his head until it was TK who was 'being crazy'. I've talked about that scene in depth before so I won't do it again, but Carlos's reaction is, I think, indicative of having felt rejection before and trying to protect himself.

Which brings me to number two. The fact that he's nearly lost TK several times already. This plays a HUGE role in how Carlos acts, especially with TK. Carlos has wanted TK LITERALLY from day 1, and since then he's nearly lost him how many times??? Enough, at least, that I'm fairly certain he's now holding on too tight, even when it comes back and hurts him. He just... he seems to have this mentality that if he's in he's ALL in, and he's not allowed to back away or put any distance between them, or else he'll lose TK for real.

Because we've seen TK pull back and get some distance before. We saw TK take a night away after their fight about the farmer's market. Maybe not with the best communication, but TK was angry and he needed space, so he left. When he did that, however, Carlos was convinced that they were breaking up. Like, CONVINCED. You cannot tell me that Carlos didn't think the worst in that moment.

Now why is THIS important? Easy. Because Carlos and TK may be moving forward in their relationship, but they are at a point right now where they react to things in fundamentally different ways. TK kind of bounces between becoming reactionary and going distant (again, we saw this in s2ep8 very clearly), while Carlos has reached a point where he kind of doubles down on holding tightly to TK even when he maybe shouldn't.

Basically, when you boil all this down, Carlos is DESPERATELY trying not to rock the boat, with his parents OR with TK, because he's scared of everything coming apart. And I think that makes sense with this episode.

The problem, then, is that this is a coping mechanism. The narrative has set it up as such. Which means that he's going to have to address it at some point. If he doesn't, I will be FUCKING PISSED, believe you me.

3) Did the narrative address that scene with respect, dignity, and nuance?

Short answer: I DON'T THINK SO.

Long answer: TK is human. He's a recovering addict. He's had problems with feeling numb in the past (that line about how everything is gray), which, I think, makes his feelings just THAT MUCH BIGGER when he does have them. So clearly, he's going to make mistakes. The question then is, was this particular mistake something he's learned from, or was it just used for the drama?

I have two reasons to believe it was the latter rather than the former.

One. Judd's reaction. Judd telling Carlos to get out of the firehouse after TK hit him, as if Carlos was the bad guy in that situation, was dramatic as hell. TK and Carlos are pitted against each other in that moment, and instead of mediating, Judd picked a side. Which is, ironically enough, the first thing that I think was NOT in character in that scene.

Judd, we know, is a bit of a hot-head, but he's also very empathetic. Judd was shown trying to mediate between Billy and Owen the last time the two of them had an episode together, because he understood both sides of the story and he cared for both of them. Why do I think it should have been the same this time? Well, because he loves TK and Carlos BOTH. They were both in the group hug at the hospital after the Ryder's car crash. It wasn't like Carlos stayed back, okay--JUDD CARES FOR BOTH OF THEM. And I think, at that point, that Judd would have seen the fact that TK was spinning out and Carlos was trying to stay objective and known that he needed to de-escalate. It would have been SO EASY to have that line be "Okay, okay, both of you step back and take a breather." He could EASILY have mediated. But he didn't. And that was a specific choice that leans more toward drama than anything else.

Which brings me to number two. The fact that they don't talk about it on screen. We had a hand-wavey 'we agreed no apologies' and a hot and heavy make-out scene instead. The writers wanted the drama of the two of them being in bed together while the fire started, and in order to do that they sacrificed the screen time it would have taken to actually have them have a conversation. Because, again, it would have been SO EASY to write them actually talking about it. They've done it before! After their fight about the farmer's market and Carlos's parents, the two of them have a WONDERFUL conversation. Why then and not now? Well, to make the fire more dramatic, to up the stakes one more time.

So no. I don't think there was any respect. I don't think there was any nuance. TK made a mistake, because he's human and he has some problems with emotional regulation, but there were little to no repercussions for it where there really should have been. There was no respect coming from the firefam for Carlos, either. There were no apologies, or further comments, or anything. And honestly... this season has done a lot toward making me feel like they don't give a shit about violence. Judd hitting that kid in the bear trap in the wild fire episode, Judd hitting the drunk driver who drove him off the road, Judd punching Billy when he thought he was framing Owen, and now TK hitting Carlos... all with no repercussions or apologies or even discussions about them... it's not a good look.

And there you have it. The writing makes sense. It does. But it's also really clear that the writers' priorities have changed. I really, honestly feel like the show has lost something since season 1. There's been a massive tonal shift, and I don't like it. The fact that we keep having Event after Event with no reprieve, have sacrificed conversations and interpersonal relationships for Drama, and have started killing and maiming characters with wild abandon, sometimes with seemingly no reason... it's all just a Lot. I have enjoyed watching season 2, but it's not sticking the same way as season 1 did. I'm not letting myself get attached to characters at this point because clearly we're not in a found family show anymore. I don't care about them the same way I did before. I can’t bring myself to do it when it’s becoming clear that we’re not going to slow down and actually process anything anytime soon.