#-had so much content left to consume. and everything was simple. I didn't have a job at the time and every day was creativity

[doverstar]

an absolute wave of homesickness for Doctor Who (2005) series 1-2 just about knocks me over at the quietest moments of my little life

[hyunluvbug]

jealousy, jealousy

pairing: lee know x afab reader

content: 🔞NSFW MDNI!!, ex lovers to lovers?, public sex (bathroom), oral (m receiving), face fucking (f receiving), unprotective sex, possesive!minho

premise: lee know is your ex and he sees you in the club one night. he becomes jealous from all the attention everyone is giving you.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i have been simping extra hard for this man recently (more than normal ><) and this idea kind of drove me crazy. so i had to write and share this fantasy, enjoy :>

minho. the man who once consumed every ounce of your mind. his name running circles throughout brain like a marathon. he is everywhere until he is nowhere. the cause of your breakup? it was a mutual agreement. something you both discussed. all of it came down to the both of you being too busy to see one another.

"i think we should break up." minho tells you one evening in your apartment.

"okay."

your agreement is one that shocks him. he's shocked that you both thought the exact same thing. being too busy and not seeing each other enough made it feel like there wasn't any point to the relationship. of course, you miss him like hell and he misses you too. but it is what was best in the moment.

your friends thought maybe you are insane. they know how much you both love each other. hearing you decided to break up was a shocker for them. when you two had been dating for over a year. you kept telling them you were fine and that the breakup was simple. no one's heart was truly broken and no one was left with sullen feelings. a small piece of you did wish things could be different. but life just happens.

this is what led to your friends dragging you to the club. it had been a week without him and it felt like any other day. you barely saw him during the relationship to begin with so not much was new. a part of you did begin to feel lonely. knowing that you are no longer his and he’s not yours, did hurt.

your friends wanted to drag you to the club thinking it would cheer you up when you weren't even sad. you accepted anyways since a night out could be fun.

the crowd was lively. music boomed through the room causing vibrations to buzz the floor beneath you. a cup in hand filled with vodka and your hips swaying side to side. your friends are around you dancing with one another, twirling around and giggles leaving their lips. you are tipsy. the liquor making your body feel electric.

there were many other attractive people who caught your eye. some of them even eyeing you from how great you looked tonight. you had put on what you considered to be your best outfit and it was garnering many people's attention. one person's attention was all on you and you hadn't even noticed him.

minho was at that exact same club. for the exact reasons as you. his friends didn't really understand how the two of you broke up. you were practically inseparable when you were together but they guessed his busy schedule plus yours didn't match. minho was practically fuming though as he watched you dance in the crowd. taking notice of all the other people watching you, practically eye fucking you from a distance. he felt jealousy bubble up into his chest and he was waiting for it to explode.

you don't even remember how it all happened. one minute you were dancing and another you were following minho into the men's bathroom. he walked over to you and didn't even say a word, all he did was grab your wrist and drag you along. you let him.

"minho?" you questioned as he leads you into a stall. he locks the stall door and stares at you. taking in just how great you look in your outfit. everything about it makes him lose his mind.

"do you know how difficult it is to see other people who clearly want to fuck you?"

"excuse me." you question, shocked at what he is telling you. he begins to pull down his zipper, you watch him with your eyes wide. you are tipsy but you can still understand what he is about to do.

“knees.”

“if you think i’m going to get on this dirty ass floor-“

he lightly pushes you to the floor, “i said get on your knees.”

his eyes are clouded with darkness, something you hadn’t seen before. you gulp down your words as you look up at him. he pulls his pants and boxers down, his eyes looking into yours.

“you know what to do.”

you hesitate for a moment. remembering the break up and how it all happened. it was all his idea and yet here he is practically commanding you to suck him off. you can't deny that this whole situation turns you on.

"come on baby, i know you've missed me as much as i have missed you." he sighs above you, you look into his eyes. your eyes half lidded and he smiles at the sight. you bring his cock closer to your lips and begin to lick the tip.

"fuck, that's my good girl."

you tease his tip with your tongue, his hand caresses your cheek and pulls you forward. his cock fully enters your mouth and he lets out a loud groan.

"such a perfect mouth." he holds onto your face while he fucks his cock into your mouth. your eyes are on him as you watch him bite down on his lip. many moans and groans leave from his lips as he continues to slide in and out of your mouth.

squelching sounds of your spit on his cock fills the bathroom and echoes off the walls. the idea of someone walking in and hearing it makes you wet.

minho then pulls you away quickly. he stares into your eyes, a smirk is on his face. he grabs your wrists and pulls you up off the floor. his lips come into contact with yours and it feels euphoric. being able to kiss again after so long feels amazing. it is a feeling you didn't think you would be able to experience again.

while you're making out, you feel him pull down your panties. easy access since you're wearing a skirt. he runs his fingers under your skirt to feel your wetness.

"you always get soaking for me." he whispers over your lips. his fingers prod at your folds and run over your clit. making your legs shake and a soft moan to leave your lips.

"minho please."

"don't worry, i'll give you what you want."

he places you against the cold metal stall wall. you jump up to wrap your legs around him. you feel his cock come into contact with your folds. he rubs his cock over them letting the wetness coat him.

"you're mine." he breathes into your ear and pushes inside. the feeling of his cock inside of you at this angle makes your eyes roll. he is able to hit the deepest part of you. exploring the pleasure it brings you both.

he begins to thrust, in doing so, the stall wall begins to creak. the sound of him fucking you makes your brain mushy. the thrusts become more erratic and quick, your moans egging him to go faster.

"you want someone to hear you get slutted out huh? let them hear how dumb i fuck you. come on baby, say it."

you can't even form words. what he says slips in one ear and out the other. you can only imagine how fucked out you must look right now. your eyes are half closed and practically rolling into the back of your head.

"say it." he coos and you pant loudly. his thrusts become more harsh, each one pulling out slowly and thrusting back in even harder.

"y-you fuck, you fuck m-me so stupid."

"good girl." he chuckles, his thrusts go even deeper inside. wet sounds filling the bathroom. each thrust making you even more stupid, not being able to think about anything but him.

and your worst fear happens. someone walks in.

the bathroom door swings open with a creak and you hear them unzip their pants. minho covers your mouth with one hand and continues to fuck up into you. this drives you even more insane. knowing someone can still hear the rhythmic squeaking of the stall door. they can probably guess what is happening. your moans are muffled by his hand, he looks into your eyes. a big smirk is on his face. he is reveling in the fact someone can hear you get fucked. once they finish their business, they flush and walk out. the door creaks closed.

minho removes his hand from your mouth and you let out a loud groan.

"can't let anyone hear how fucked out you sound. only i can. just me. no one else baby. i want you for myself. i own you." he whispers sweetly into your ear. each phrase matched with a hard thrust.

you let out a few more whimpers. starting to feel a little embarrassed at how he makes you feel. everything he says makes you even closer to your high. his words allow you to revisit your feelings for him, everything begins to come back to you. you don't ever want to leave him. you want to be with him no matter what it takes.

"cum for me baby." he pants into your ear, his thrusts beginning to falter as his high also approaches. he thrusts inside a few more times and you're coming undone around him.

"shit." he grunts and you feel his cum coat your walls. he wraps his arms around you, your legs still secure around his waist. he pulls out of you and you let out a low whine. he begins to breathe heavily into your neck, trying to get through his orgasm.

when his breaths slow down, he looks up at you. his eyes glossed over with love. he smiles shyly at you, "okay so maybe i got jealous."

the statement makes you chuckle. you tap his arms and he helps you down to the floor. your knees wobble a little bit but he helps you stay up. he hands you your underwear and you slide them back on.

"that was one hell of a way to show me you want to get back together." you smirk and his face flushes. now he is the one who is embarrassed. he pulls up his own boxers and jeans.

"i just missed you so much baby." your hand reaches up to his cheek, caressing his soft skin.

"well, you have me. i am never leaving your side again." he leans into your hand, his eyes welling up with tears. he sniffles a little and you coo at him.

"wow, you missed me that much? i can finally say i made the lee minho cry."

"ah shut up, you're ruining it."

you both begin to laugh together, hoping that this is what will keep you together. the undeniable love you have for one another should be enough. no one or anything could ever get in the way of that again.

[official-impravidus]

"Dont touch her/him" with jealous parkner please ;)

I was clearing out my inbox and I thought it would be funny to reply to this prompt from like 2019 but I accidentally wrote a good fic and also may have gotten myself back into Parkner??? @peachy-keener 👀

Peter never considered himself a jealous person. He was protective, sure. He cared about the ones he loves deeply but he’s secure in the knowledge that they love him too, enough to not abandon him just because they make other connections.

(That’s a lie. There’s a festering fear that bubbles beneath the surface of his skin at every given moment that he will lose someone he loves again. And though the losses he has had were through death, out of his control no matter how much he blames himself for it, he can’t help but fear that the next time he is left again will be completely and utterly his fault.)

When he met Harley, he didn’t expect to love him the way he does.

It’s different for his love for Ned. His love for Ned is fierce and all consuming, the feeling of being known so deep that you are not a separate two but intrinsically combined, merged together through time, influencing the way the other grew and evolved as he grew and evolved with him.

His love for MJ is something steady, something that he considered to be romantic love but didn't quite understand as he felt it. A love that was all butterflies and fireworks yet also a moment of reprieve from his crazy life, a steadying silence and a moment to breathe. Something that didn't necessarily dim or dull but dissipated into something less like a passionate infatuation and more like contentment. A love for a moment, not a love forever.

Harley is… indescribable. What he feels for Harley isn't what he ever understood love to be and that's why he wasn't able to tell what it was. Fleeting moments shared in passing that slowly lingered until the two needed to pry each other apart. The need to listen, to know everything about him, to learn everything that makes him Harley but also the need to be heard and seen and listened to in a way you can't even listen to yourself.

It's a certainty. An unspoken trust built on respect and communication and painstakingly chipping away at the walls that they had built into themselves.

It's warmth and it's safety and it's good and nice and right.

Love for Peter has always been something so big. Love that he would lay down his life for. Love that was expressed in grand gestures and grander words just to prove even a sliver of the sentiment. Because he loves so big and the love he feels is inexplicable, not because he doesn't understand how he feels it, but because there is no way to explain it.

But with Harley, there is no need to address it. It is just known. And somehow, without clarification, he knows that he is loved too.

It's easy. It's simple. It's good, nice, right.

So, when Peter feels a pool of fire in his gut, the sort of burning roaring passion that he had once felt with his first love, for a moment he thinks that what he had adjusted to believe love could be was not all what love is at all.

But it's not the kind of overwhelming emotion, a maelstrom of feeling that pulses and pushes like how he had felt for his first love. It's not kind or love-like at all.

It's an ugly kind of passion. One that he attributes more to fistfights in the moonlit streets, bloody knuckles and bruised ribs, the ache that pulls for him to take a step to far that he can't quite cross.

Peter has never been one whose first resort is violence.

But right now, he wants to punch someone so hard that their stupid face with their stupid smirk caves in.

He and Harley are out at the park both in desperate need of fresh air and sunlight on their faces after holing themselves in the lab for far too long.

Harley had stepped away to get them a treat from an ice cream truck — "They made popsicles of you! They've got gumballs for eyes and there's a less than one percent chance they're in the right place, but I've think I've got good odds." — leaving Peter behind to pet the swarm of dogs that fight to have a spot in his lap.

When Peter hears Harley chuckle uncomfortably, his head immediately snaps up, eyes zeroing in on Harley who stands across the park.

A guy has a hand on Harley's arm, looking him up and down with hungry eyes and smirk that looks more like a snarl. Harley, polite as always, does his best to not engage but considering their positions in the line, there is nowhere for him to escape.

Peter is moving before he realizes he is, legs moving without him, a magnet pulled to Harley, but this time in a way that feels more like a planet being pulled into the gravitational field of a blinding sun.

"Don't touch him."

The guy doesn't move his hand. He just cocks a brow, shooting Harley an annoyed look as if Peter is the one who is unwanted there. "There's a line, buddy."

"I was actually saving him a spot," Harley says, finally ripping his hand from the guy's grasp as his fingers slacken at the statement. Harley wraps an arm around Peter's waist and presses a kiss to his temple. "Remind me what you wanted again, darlin?"

"Whatever you want," Peter says, the double meaning clear in the words.

"Well, I want a Spider-Man popsicle. And I want to be the lucky guy who gets the one with the eyes in the right place."

The guy, now realizing that his attempts at pursuits are futile, huffing petulantly, steps out of line and storms away.

Harley leans his lips down to Peter's ear. "You jealous?"

"No," Peter says quickly.

"Well, I wasn't lyin' when I said all I want is your eyes in the right place." Harley pulls away and looks into Peter's eyes. "On me."

[this-acuteneurosis]

Can I just say how much I appreciate the fact you don't stray much from the movies?

It's just so refreshing to see a fic that is built on a clear, unbiased and simple canon base. This way, as you demonstrated, a writer not only has the ability to further explore the main themes and ideas introduced in the source material, but they can also go ahead and naturally develop their own by branching out on those fundamentals. They can offer their perspective by using the source material to their advantage, instead of working against it or even worse, trying to include all contradicting canon aspects. Part of writing a fic is kind of like offering your input in a conversation/disagreement. You have to listen carefully to what the other person is saying in order to form your answer...If you're listening to a thousand different people who are all saying a different thing (in this case, The clone wars, legends, novels, comics ect), you won't be able to give an answer that makes sense, much less give a structured and stable opinion.

I love how you were like "I know star wars is entering an era of a shit ton of spin off content with seemingly no end and most star wars fans know shit like who chewie lost his virginity to and what the kessel run is but screw this. The movies and maybe some late night wiki research is enough."

And you were right.

It's so funny, because I feel like I do ultimately stray pretty far from the movies. Not in terms of events I guess, but especially the prequels, I reject some of the underlying assumptions of what is said on screen and just treat it like fallible people strongly asserting opinions that no one calls them on. See: everything I ever assert about the Force/Anakin's "destiny."

I do think it helped me to stick with limited material. And it wasn't even because I saw all of this new SW content coming. I've mentioned this before, but when I started writing Don't Look Back (when it was just Like Fire and I naively believed I was gonna be done in 200k words, lol, rip past me) I hesitated a lot because as far as I was concerned, I wasn't a Star Wars Fan.

I'd watched the OT and PT multiple times. I knew that novels and games and cartoons existed, I knew people had consumed them all. I had been reading some SW fic because @mylongsufferingroommate had been sending me stuff they were enjoying and I was having fun with it. But like, I would never have called myself a Fan. I got goaded into writing this fic by people who knew me too well and really wanted a political thriller. I wouldn't have called them Star Wars Fans either.

Limiting myself to the six movies I had watched was a preemptive defense mechanism against a fan base I wasn't sure would want to accept me. My thin skin is my own problem, but every time I think about writing in a new fandom the same sort of nerves take me: what if my fanon is "wrong" and people are mean?

I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you so much to everyone who gave me a chance and encouraged me and were excited and shared that excitement.

And please, for the love of all the sky and stars DON'T GATEKEEP FANDOMS.

Don't tell people their canon is too big (@blue-sunshine-mauve-morning and @chancecraz have amazing fics that are much more compliant than mine to the broader canon, as a quick example), and definitely don't tell people their canon is too small. Walk away if you aren't enjoying something. Give compliments when you like something that is unique in a fandom you're familiar with. Be patient with people, be kind.

I could easily have given this story up if people hadn't been patient with me. I got comments as early as my first chapter from people who were angry with a single thing that I said and felt the need to tell me I was wrong. I could have left. I could have stopped.

I'm glad I didn't. But I wonder how many other people have.

[kamimarroco]

It's ugly, I know, but I like it

As always, lots of shit going on here

TW: Torture, manipulation, mention of sex, blood, screams and pain, and a lot of suffering for Ren (I'm sorry Ren fans 😺)

“I'm sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry!” Ren's apologies fell on deaf ears, your hand lashing his fragile skin even more, each cut deeper than the other, showing your previously well-hidden cruelty.

You hadn't even hurt him that much and he was already shaking badly, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was beautiful to watch how someone so visibly confident became a noisy, screaming mess of pain. So fragile, so weak, so soft.

And also stupid, pathetic, disgusting.

What did he really expect when you finally broke free? That you would be a sweet little sheep who would treat him with love and affection? After everything he did to you??

Bullshit. Of course you would go for physical revenge. Not just physical, but emotional, symbolic, psychological.

You would make him bleed, scream, writhe, beg, make him use all of his voice until there was nothing left.

“Come on, Ren! I'm pretty sure you're enjoying our… bonding moment!” Your awfully sweet and energetic voice gave him goosebumps, his tail and ears becoming visibly bristled, wondering how you could be enjoying it so much. You are hurting him, making him suffer, you are a monster!

“Please, please... Tell me this is a joke, tell me this is all a joke” His nervous laughter made him seem even more desperate. “You... you weren't like that before, I know that! You're just confusing things here”

Oh poor, simple Ren. Still trying to persuade you to stop torturing, still trying to manipulate you even though he's tied up. 

But that's how things should be, that's how they should have been from the beginning. You on one side, him on the other. And that's it, simple as that. 

You didn't force yourself to be an obedient little girl only to be beaten and tortured every time.You didn't force yourself to cook just to keep him satisfied and well fed. You didn't force yourself to allow his advances just to be a blow-up doll he could fuck to his heart's content.

No no no, everything was just an act, a pretense, a theater. You would NEVER let someone treat you like that without an ulterior motive.

He fell like a duckling, enchanted by your charms, admired by your obedience and how you made him feel good and superior. You inflated his ego until he was relaxed enough to allow you an attack, a weakness, an opportunity to finally turn the tables.

Even though you acted silly most of the time, you knew you couldn't let your mask fall, not until you had the power of the situation, not until he was in the palm of your hand. Like a toy, like an object, like a little scared fox. 

“Coward. You act so powerful and superior when you're the one in control, but all it takes is a few cuts from a hunting knife for you to act docile and sweet” Your sharp tongue didn't hesitate to say it to his face, to show him how pathetic he's being right now. 

And you had to confess that you were deeply disappointed. You at least expected him to curse you at the top of his lungs, call you a bitch for playing with him, for cheating and betraying his trust, maintain the pride and dignity you thought he still had. 

Instead, all you got was a worthless coward who will do anything to please you, will do anything to stop you from torturing him further.

Tsk, what a pathetic sight.

But also cute, you can't lie. Seeing him all broken, beaten, tortured and bloody gives your heart a euphoria that words could never describe. A feeling that most people would despise for the simple fact that you feel it when hurting a small tethered fox. 

It's an ugly, corrosive and toxic feeling that consumes the depths of your soul, fills your brain with genuine happiness and makes you smile from ear to ear, like some kind of clown who made a joke and can't stop smiling. 

You have never felt so alive as you do now, you have never felt so full of joy. 

You really have to thank him. Without it, you would probably be living a mediocre life, trying to fit into society, paying bills and often going to the doctor just to make sure your health was in order.

A normal life, a peaceful and good life. With normal problems, normal friendships, normal relationships. Nothing too deep, just reasonable as far as possible. Which is good, you can't deny, and most people are fine with just that. But not you.

As you decorated him with the last cuts and bruises, he was already exhausted. Too weak to scream, too weak to continue debating, and too weak to even speak. You fucked him the way you wanted.

And yet, despite your cruelty, you lifted his chin to make him look directly at you, your gaze calm and gentle, very different from how it was before. Both of your hands cupped his face, your lips approaching his to give him a sweet, loving and peaceful kiss. You tasted the blood in his mouth, the metallic taste adding more to the air of romance of the moment. 

Romance? You don't know if that's the word you're looking for, but it kind of fits. Yes, romance. A sick, intense, hot and painful romance, for both of you. Both of you dying, bleeding and beating yourselves to death for the sheer pleasure of it.

A strange and twisted way to connect, but still a way. And you like it, he likes it. You're sure of it, despite the shrill screams and tears he lets out during the process. 

You break away from the kiss, his eyes fixed on yours as you do so, half closed, tired, but now full of desire. He immediately misses the warmth of your lips on his, forcing himself to move forward to try to have some more of it, in vain. He can't do much when he's tied up like that. 

“Why? Why did you pull away?” He asks desperately, his trembling figure wishing the moment had at least lasted a little longer. You feel like he's about to burst into tears again.

“That's not how you do it, Ren" You put your thumb on his lips, playing with the skin there. “How do you ask, huh?”

“... Please. Please, kiss me again" His weak voice resonates through your mind, those mere words being enough to make you melt. 

That's it, you think he's suffered enough. 

“That's a good boy" You bring your mouth closer once again, being surprised to see him stick out his tongue, already waiting for you. A French kiss? He's certainly bolder now.

Maybe hurting him gave you a promising result. 

[dumblildog]

Why I don't sell content :3

"Do you do OF?"

"No."

"You should."

This conversation keeps happening with people. I used to sell content before OF was a thing. I'd definitely do it again if I looked like that still. I have so many fucking scars now I'm just.. idk plus I'm as pale as bb vampire so it's just a gross contrast on my skin. I have this overwhelming amount of self hate especially about how I look. If my last relationship wasn't a sexless lonely cage of self doubt and hate I probably wouldn't be sooo hateful but like having someone look at you dead face and say "I'm as attracted to you as I can be" it's like huh.. what's the point.. when someone doesn't want you for so long for years.. but also won't let you go when you beg for it you just let go of yourself in so many different ways. I lost all grips of myself and now I just dont recognize who or what I am. I was already so lost before that relationship just a lil drug addict with no money & horrible self destructive habits. I'm so surprised I didn't die that spring with my daily habits. For so long I survived off nothing but substances, self harm, and sex. I was having so many adventures and got second hand affection from the attention my actions brought me but I still was just so so lonely. I gripped onto the first person who wanted something more than my body my bed or my connections. I didn't see what he was using me for before it was too late. I stopped doing drugs anything anyone would offer, drinking anything I'd get my hands on, stopped smoking anything and everything I could light. Gross mixed bowls and cigarettes turned to nothing but green and dabs. Alcohol and nothing but coffee and espresso turned into simple teas, coffees so much water. From eating a few times a week went to having full meals sometimes more than once a day. I stopped cutting and burning myself and started wearing glitter. I got a job, then two, then three. Parties, bars, mosh pits, basement shows, trespassing, staying up to see the sunrise turned into movies, car rides, museums, and early bedtimes for tomorrows responsibilities. Handfuls of roommates and people in and out of my bed at all hours turned into a one bedroom apartment and a bed shared with only one. Tho I quickly left that bed for the couch and slept there most nights. My life was so different but I was still so lost and empty. I thought I had what I wanted but when the person you're sharing your life with doesn't want you back.. the emptiness is so all consuming. I changed and the depression and agoraphobia got so much worse. So much isolation. My body changed my habits changed. Now I'm just plagued with chronic nightmares and the emptiness. I'm free from the grips of the lonely relationship but I lost myself day after day to 4 years. Tho I've learned so much about myself in that loneliness. I know what I'd like now and what I want but my body and brain are so fucking gone it's so out of reach and I don't feel like I can do it on my own. Everything in me tells me I'm wrong and if I was this or that maybe just maybe I'll be happy or loved. Then the echos of my past lovers cruel words bounce around that empty space in my chest and remind me that even through out all those different versions of myself I still wasn't enough for any of them to actually want me. They lied, cheated, hit, hurt, hid, and then left. No one has ever wanted me for more than a thrill or a self fulfillment. I myself, I've never been first choice to anyone friendships family lovers... it's hard to be my first choice and with little to no support or recourses and with a broken body and brain it's hard to change and reach for anything. I feel like a burden on those I love and I'm not really living for anything but sparing them the grief and guilt of my suicide.

I'm tired of this existence.

I'm tired.

[angeldcgs]

the rest of the world had faded away for frankie— there was nothing but oz, his presence all-consuming, his delicate touch almost too exhilarating for how simple it was. for someone with her utter lack of experience, the simplest brush of his lips against hers made her head spin, a fluttering in her lower gut that had become impossible to ignore once his tongue made contact with her lower lip, whimpering involuntarily in response before she could think to stop herself. oz tasted like cigarettes, smoky and bitter, but frankie found that she didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. perhaps she was coming off a little too eager with the way her hand slipped from his shoulder to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt in her dainty fist and using it to try and pull him closer, as if that was even possible. the only way to eliminate the remaining distance between them would be to climb onto his lap, or try and unhinge her jaw to swallow him whole. that didn't stop her from trying, though, tugging and grasping and clutching at the parts of him that felt suggestive enough without crossing any boundaries. his possessive hold on the back of her head made frankie feel dizzy, squirming slightly where she sat in an attempt to fight between her impulses and whatever was left of her better judgment. it all became so overwhelming so quickly, oz's tongue venturing its way past her parted lips and into her mouth, her own just barely brushing against it for the briefest moment, curiosity getting the better of her before she got too shy and withdrew. everything was so hot, heat radiating from his fingertips and searing her scalp, but she wouldn't dare think to pull away for some form of relief. oz made that difficult decision for her, though, frankie's head lulling forward in an attempt to chase his retreating lips before her brain could fully process that they were meant to stop. her heart was still racing, eyes taking a moment to lazily blink open just as her grasp loosened on both his shirt and his hair, instead gently scratching his scalp and bringing her other hand back to rest on his shoulder. "i really like kissing you... i could do it for hours" her voice was low and syrupy, a near purr that conveyed her pure contentment. once again, she found herself at a loss for just where to take things, the possibilities seeming both overwhelmingly expansive and stiflingly limiting. she didn't even know what she really wanted, either, torn between the primal hunger he'd stirred within her, and the fear of the unknown that lingered even in her intoxicated state. if he suggested something, she'd go along with it, but she didn't have the guts to initiate it just yet. her head nudged forward to give him another soft peck— once, twice, and then she dropped to let her face rest in the crook of his neck, reveling in the intensity of his scent before she pressed a brief kiss to his throat, too. "do you, um... do you live near here?"

no matter the circumstances, oz was never going to turn down the opportunity to have a good kiss, especially with a pretty girl who was looking at him like she wanted to eat him alive, if only she could work out how to move without falling over. that was fine though, he was more than content in taking the lead, it was more comfortable for him in fact. with how passive and gentle she was, it would have been easy to push things forward quickly, skip to the part where he could suggest the short walk back to his place for the promise of some water and a comfier place to sit before things heated up, but for the first time in a long while, oz didn't want to do that. in rushing frankie, it would take the satisfaction away from watching her fight with those innocent tendencies to get what she really wanted. he could convince her of stuff easily, that much was obvious by how quickly she'd taken his offered cigarette despite not smoking, but he didn't want to convince her to want him, that she had to do and confess to by herself. he'd help her, of course, by kissing her like it was the most important thing to him at that moment, like he was drowning and she was a breath of fresh air. he was careful to let her make the first move, her grip on his hair tightening a little as she grew more enthusiastic with each pass of their mouths against each other, and oz took that as his opportunity to let his tongue brush curiously against her lower lip. he was fully aware that despite how easy it was to fall into their own little world, they were sat outside a bustling bar on a busy night and could be interrupted at any minute, but it only made him feel more eager to get what he could while their time belonged only to them. the hand on her cheek slipped around to cradle the back of her head, spindly fingers spread wide across the back of her skull in a way that was both protective and controlling, keeping her still with the gentle pressure. as her lips parted, oz's tongue slipped inside, not a brutal force but something more curious, timidly poking around with the quiet encouragement to bring out the same curiosity within her. when he did eventually have to pull away for a moment of air, he rested his forehead against hers and let his hand skim down to rest on the back of her neck. he smiled timidly, like he didn't make out with strangers all of the time, and pressed another kiss to her lips, much softer than any shared before, the plush shape of his mouth barely making contact with hers.

[freuleinanna]

It's always trauma o'clock somewhere! Especially for these kids who had to come home and lie about why they returned from the camp a day later. They hardly had a chance to unpack the recent trauma, but I think this is how the HQ massacre affected their lives afterwards.

Jacob, as many others, chose a half-truth and told his parents that some jerk broke the car to stay with his girlfriend. He omitted the part where that jerk was him. Couldn't bear that guilt.

He was a decent swimmer and wanted to maybe take it professionally, but the next time he found himself at the pool, he completely froze at the signal. He never dived in that day. He stared at the blue-tiled water, and he saw the chains and the overblown body.

He found Emma on Instagram and, for a while, he was checking it obsessively, hoping she'd talk about what happened or mention it in some way, any way. He wanted to stop being so alone in knowing the truth and living with it. Emma never did that.

Emma, actually, fell silent for almost 2 months after her return. She'd speak the bare minimum, but never an actual conversation, never a joke. The happy, bubbly girl simply wasn't there. Her parents even took her to a teen therapist with little to no result.

Emma had stopped streaming for a while, although she still kept her Insta. One time she almost posted a selfie from that day, before the nightfall. Almost.

Some time later, she set up a really non-Emma-esque live stream. She was sitting in silence, looking at the sunset, the comment section was overflowing, and sometimes Emma would pick a question to answer from there. Many thought she was doing some sort of spiritual cleanse. She only spoke without a prompt for the first time when she saw Abi joining the stream.

For Abi, it was nightmares. That simple, that efficient. Dark forests, mist, dangerous beasts lurking around. What else to screw with the sleep of a sweet, tender person?

Movies on the background didn't help. Music didn't help. Drawing made everything worse, because in every shape, form, and shadow, beasts were lurking. Whenever she'd pick up a pencil to sketch, she left monsters on the paper. Wherever she looked, she saw monsters. Monsters always looked just a little bit like Nick.

It went on until the night she looked Emma up on Insta and, by pure coincidence, got to her live stream.

Nick blocked most of it out. There wasn't much to remember, but some memories still bled through.

He became the snack guy, the guy who always had something to chew on. It was a small quirk nobody was really paying attention to, but its trail led back to the only thing he did remember: hunger.

Whenever he emailed, Abi never replied.

Ryan, on the contrary, was replying to and receiving a LOT of emails. He was the one to send all the evidence to the Bizarre Yet Bonafide studio, and he also kept in touch with a few other Hacketteers, including Kaitlyn and Dylan.

Another thing he did is meticulously go through all his favorite media (TV & films mostly) and unbooked/deleted everything that dealt with guns being shot or vivid descriptions of wild animals (or their victims). This took him several hard days, but he finally felt safer when he did it.

He only watched something new if Dylan watched it first and gave him an okay.

Dylan, as opposed to Ryan, consumed horror content like his life depended on it. At some point, he even had a special notepad with details of how to defeat or protect yourself from all supernatural dangers and their mother. He kept this notepad on him at all times and often re-read it.

Getting used to not having a hand was slightly easier than he expected. What wasn't easy? That one time when his dad asked him to bring him sth to work. His father, a crane conductor on a construction site, did not expect his grown son to have a full-blown panic attack over a pb&j.

On the other hand (his joke, not mine), he got really close with Ryan and Kat, and they were planning a getaway together.

Kaitlyn was the one to propose the getaway. Despite the general total mindfuck, she managed to keep a cool head on the night of, and, surprisingly, it didn't cost her a hand and a leg (her joke, not mine!)

Thus, she became a healer. Reaching out, making sure. Helping. She didn't make it her sacred goal to help all others, but she tried, and that's what counts.

She kept tabs on Jacob especially. She knew he'd never ask for help. He didn't have to ask. That's what best friends are for.

Max never met any of those people, except Emma. That one time he bit his lip and nearly puked because he thought he remembered the taste of blood.

He topped his steak-cooking up to inventing the well-well-well-done steak without any possibility of there being blood.

Mostly, he just wasn't sure if he knew his own nature anymore. As the whole night was blocked in his mind, he could only trust Laura. And he did. The fact that she looked at him even more lovingly than before told him that if she trusts him, if she loves him, than it's okay.

Laura did trust him and loved him. But she also ran a gazillion of drills per week and kept at least two take-and-run bags in the house, and one in a special place. Clothes, flashlights, crackers, compass, you name it. She was an amateur that last time. Now she was ready for anything.

She took up running as well. She continued with vet studies. Even years after, the first thought that sprung to her mind if someone was butten by an animal was: CUT THE FUCKING LIMB.

Max kept her grounded with his laugh and his honest, sincere warmth. She could have gone really cold inside if it wasn't for him.

[thesoleilla]

Flufftober Day 3:Thick as thieves

Masterlist Fandom: Tomodachi game

Ship: Kei x Yuuichi (platonic or romantic, you decide)

Warning: a bit angsty at the start

Will the honesty from dangerous situation carry on to normal day-to-day life? Well, no matter what the answer was, Kei was still standing at Yuuichi's door at dawn for whatever reason.

Tomodachi game was done. Finally. No more of this suffering. Well, was it suffering if you partly enjoyed it? Kei didn't have a set answer to that question...normally it would be a total no, but why was he at Yuuichi's door then? This didn't make any sense! How could a genius like him not understand himself!

Well, the most important problem was still here, no matter what; Kei was at Yuuichi's door for a reason even he didn't know. When did he start making such bad decisions ?

"Kei. I expected you to come here... what do you want? I couldn't figure that out...sorry" The door opened, revealing a tired Yuuichi; perhaps from all the things that got out from the game, Kei wasn't sure. He wasn't ever sure about anything when it came to this man...

"Well.. It's the kind of thing I always hated to admit before but... I don't know. I just felt like I needed to talk with you" Kei spoke up "But it's not like there's no goal! There's always a reason for my actions! I...just haven't figured out what yet!" Well, the progress of admitting he didn't know something was lost just like that. R.I.P

Yuuichi giggled at Kei's behaviour before inviting him inside. He started making some tea and indicating for Kei to sit down on the excuse of a couch he had. Huh. This wasn't the Yuuichi Kei knew! He expected him to get angry or plan something or or-... was this calm soft dude really the almost psychopathic mastermind Kei knew? What happened to him? This added to the recently created pile of thikgs Kei was confused about... and he wasn't happy in the slightest about it, even if he had wished for challenges like these for his whole life... Now that he had them, everything was so much more complicated... of course he liked it at first, but he was starting to miss how simple things used to look to him. He used to be on top of the world but now... he was weaker than ever.

"I hope the couch isn't too rough for you - still I have something to ask you if you don't mind... aren't you scared of me? As you see, everybody left me after the game - not that I don't get why... so why did you decide to stay? We don't even know each other that well..."

Kei slightly shifted on the last part, what did he mean about not knowing eachother ? They used to be as thick as thieves during the game! Well, it was unspoken of course, but they were both capable of guessing each other's actions so well! Kei trusted Yuuichi with anything!

"I... what do you mean by that? First off, I didn't leave you because I'm not scared of you! Why would a genius like me be! You would have already discarded of me if you wanted to anyways... I always trusted you! So, onto my next point, of course we know each other! How can you even believe we don't ?"

"Well... you only know, the worst of me, right? Besides... I don't like the artificial way the game made us connect...that's not what I'd call natural."

"Who cares if it's natural!? We connected eitherway! And what if I only know the worse of you? I like it! Don't you go away now that I found someone stronger than me! Tell me your secret! I want to compete again! I want to know more!And I... need to talk about the game with someone. Please... you're the only one who can understand me. I beg you"

"Kei... no need to beg, you could've just said it if you needed a talk, you know, before getting angry out of pride" he laughed, a sound kei had never expected to come out from him; but seeing how pleasant it was, though he wouldn't admit it, he could bear with it. "Besides, I might need to talk too"

@flufftober

Thanks for reading! Sorry for how ooc this is, it's my first time writing for tomodachi and I haven't consumed any content related to it other than the new chapters lately x) Also not proofread at all because I need sleep and will sleep now good night lol ig

Ps: we need more tomodachi game fics I'm fed up with the lack of fics so I'm just gonna do it myself lmao

[janshu]

In The Shallows...Part One.

Summary: @hanji-is-life more merman!Bakugo and so I shall provide! I was hoping to get this out much earlier, back in may because MerMay but better late than never I suppose! You, a marine biologist, take a scuba dive to see the local fauna off coast and you find more than you ever could've bargained for...

Word Count: 1.5.

Warnings: None but minor curses, mentions of the ocean, an illusion of drowning. Viewer discretion is advised at least.

How did you manage this?

You hadn't walked on the beach, much less roll around in the coarse substance. So how did it manage to get into your pockets? This was a new jacket so how?

A short walk from the parking garage to the pier was all it was, no beach travel involved yet it had wormed its way into your pockets, in between your toes and nearly everywhere else. 

Your team chuckles at your discomfort finding your squirming the funniest thing on the planet as they loaded up the sizable vessel for the day on the water. For the past several weeks you had been cooped up in a lab studying the samples others brought to you but now you were given the green light to head out into the field yourself. Your goal for the day was to gather samples, check on the status of the coral nursery, and a checklist of other menial tasks. A full plate all things considered, much better than getting a migraine staring through a microscope at sea water until you either give up or get sent home. 

Waves battered against the hull of the boat while you and your fellow colleagues suit up in scuba gear. The goal wasn't to go to the bottom of the ocean, far from it, fifteen meters was the maximum for today so simple snorkeling hear wouldn't cut it. You didn't get your diving certifications to be stuck in a lab. The salt spray refreshing against your skin for the few seconds it was vulnerable while you changed from your outfit into the designated wetsuit. Not the full suit that covered your body from head-to-toe, just a body one to keep your core warm when your swimsuit didn't offer much protection.

The boat came to a stop right around where the GPS locator dinged where the nursery site was and the captain gave everyone a thumbs up as you and your fellows attached their fins, tanks, SPG's and all the other necessary equipment. One-by-one each of them held their regulators to their mouths and fell back into the blue ocean below until it was your own, to which you received a wink instead while everything turned upside down.

Ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred. Regardless of how many dives you've had you'll never get over the beauty of the reefs. Each time serving something new, change was ever present in your line of work. Never seeing the same specimens twice to witnessing a rare species and everything in between. The sunshine overhead casting glittering ripples on the sandy floor, catching your eye on the schools of fish that swam by as their scales gleamed in different patterns. This was the closest feeling you had ever come to your childhood dream of becoming a mermaid. When you wished on your birthday candles and shooting stars to holding your breath underneath tub water in hopes gills would magically appear. That's what started this career. Maybe it was a long forgotten portion of your evolved brain from life's time in the ocean but you felt at home, a familiar sense of belonging that you didn't have on dry land. This was where you were meant to be but sadly your wishes had never come true and you were cursed to remain a land-dwelling mammal.

The beeping in your ears ripped you from your fantastical daydreams to remind you of the harsh reality. This is as close as you were going to get but that wasn't so bad, it was better having a little than nothing at all. Looking at the gauge meter it showed that you have roughly an hour left of oxygen which meant you had been in the water for an hour already. How time flies when you're having fun, absorbed in your daydreams, and checking on coral and taking samples.

"Hey, could we switch our tanks out without getting oxygen narcosis or are we screwed in that department?" Your voice came over the radio built in the full face masks everyone in the diving team used no doubt scaring those who were lost in thought as you just were. 

"Y/N...do you really want to stay out here longer? Shitting Christ, you should be glad you're out here in the first place!" The captain's voice responded from the safety of the boat. "Now get your asses back up here n' we'll head on ba-...what was that?"

"What was what?" 

A chorus of responses chimed in immediately after, some crackling from the distance they were from the source and others sounding as if they were a foot away.

"Nothing, never mind, must've been a Manta Ray. Forget about it. Just get your shit and come back, I'm gettin' hungry and its close to lunchtime so hurry up." The static cut off as he put down the radio and looked out into the churning ocean. The massive shadow he had just seen passing by the boat putting him on alert, he didn't want to witness any reef shark's feeding frenzy.

"We can come back tomorrow, Y/N. Nothing's stopping us from that, right?" Another voice, one of your favorite colleagues suggested. That was right, you were there and your boss hadn't explicitly said that this was a one time thing. Another visit would do some good to see if the biometrics have changed in a span of twenty-four hours.

"Alright, okay, we'll come back later for a differential test."

The group had a collective sigh of relief. You were notorious for loving the ocean to such a degree you'd do anything to stay in a while longer, they were all content with leaving now and coming back later if it meant they wouldn't see your sad pouting all the way back to the van. Picking up their equipment and vials everyone began swimming back to the boat now most of them making small talk and discussing their plans for the weekend while you were once again lost in your thoughts.

Something impossibly dark darted through your vision. Blocking out the beautiful view of the turquoise water and colorful life like an angry, ominous storm cloud. A blanket of blindness shrouding all light for a moment but it felt like an eternity as dread sunk in the pit of your stomach, anchoring you to the spot. The warm water now felt cold, goosebumps running up your bare arms and thighs like pinpricks. The heart that had been so calm in the home of your ribcage now pushing adrenaline through your bloodstream, adjusting to a state you weren't acting on. Fear. That wasn't a Manta Ray or a comically large Stingray that was something else entirely. A predator that crashed against the fragile cage of safety, security and believing you were untouchable in shallow depths.

You were reminded of the psychologically scarring and irrational fear of one's ankles being grabbed particularly in the ocean by a shark, the part of your lizard brain firing signals all across your synapses to detach the leg. If only. A fair trade, being left alone at the price of a limb but unfortunately humans couldn't detach or regrow whatever they lost.

That fear was horrifically evoked when something far more firm than a limp leaf of seaweed wrapped around your ankle. Slimey, cold as death and tipped with five sharp points. Reminiscent of a hand, a very large hand. Expanding across your bare skin like a calloused cuff that threatened to break the skin, sink into the meat and tear your foot off entirely. However, that didn't seem to be happening. No cloud of your own blood instead the safety of the boat got further and further away, turning into a speck barely seen in the shallow water.

"Wait, wait no! What the fuck?! Let go! What the hell?" When your brain managed to get over its fear and shock of the situation your fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear and your body began to thrash around against the hold. If it was a shark hitting it in the snout and eyes was imperative to get it to release but what if it wasn't? What else could possibly have your leg in its grip with a goal of pulling you away from the boat?

A flurry of indistinguishable voices and noises came over the radio. From yelps, screams and to curses but the thudding in your ears and the furious splashes drowned them all out, everything became topsy turvy, what was the bottom of the ocean and what was the surface became an abstract concept. The primal urge to escape was ripped away when the respirator giving you oxygen was unceremoniously and harshly ripped from your mouth, the hand that had done it orange and black. The water was salty, like you had dumped an entire container of table salt into your mouth and you washed it down with a sip of water. It was invasive, slipping down your throat into your lungs as they tried to gulp air instead. The more you inhaled the harder it was to move. Your limbs becoming as heavy as cement bricks. Unconsciousness began to consume everything, your body down to your mind. The eerie sensation of falling was the last thing before everything faded to black...

[067supremacy]

WARNING! Mentions of death, loss, and grief 

Your one and only - Jill Valentine

I'm sorry in advance 💔

Rain and tears mingle on your face, salty tracks blending into the fresh sky-fallen trickles. Only the pinkness of your eyes gives any clue to your sadness, and in this city, who will look closely enough to tell. There is a heaviness to your woolen coat that was absent when you left the hospital.

The rain beats down on you like a drum; the sheer force, combined with your ultimate sadness, was tiring. The massive sign covered in graffiti signaled that you had just entered the local park. Seems a good enough place as any to have a breakdown.

The children play park came in to view, and that's when the memories of your childhood spiked; it was this exact play park you met the love of your life, Jill. Better times and Better memories.

Yesterday was so simple, you picked up the expensive ring you could barely afford, you got Jills' favorite flowers, her go-to snacks. And even had her favorite movie ready to play. Jill always said she wanted subtle, so a proposal in the apartment you now shared together seemed perfect. Little did you know that shortly after midnight, you would get a call.

A call you hoped would never come, a call you couldn't imagine would ever come. The sound of a man's voice, easily mid-'50s, said with nothing but sorrow, the two words you never wanted to hear. "I'm sorry,"

The rest of the call was a blur; you couldn't even remember hanging up. But you had one destination, and that was the Raccoon City Hospital.

It was fairly routine for people with Jills' skill set, a possible kidnap and hostage situation. You didn't know the details, and quite frankly, you didn't care for them, but the man who was responsible for that crime had just taken the life of your one and only.

Your mind was in denial; she would be fine. Sitting up in the hospital bed with a slight cut, anxiously awaiting your arrival.

This was far from the case. The sad smile the doctor offered you; told you everything you needed to know. She was gone—your Jill. The sight you entered on was sickening. Multiple bullet wounds scattered her chest and stomach, tubes, and wires were surrounding her body. Her face was pale white, but her neck under was stained crimson red.

The overwhelming urge to release the contents of your stomach was stopped, for you had to be strong at this moment. The tears you tried so hard to keep back were eventually released—a downpour, similar to the one outside.

It was almost as if mother nature had taken your soul as a reference to how the weather would be. At first, the flood gates opened, and as you stroked her cold, bloodless cheek, the rain got heavier and heavier.

Your tears of sadness soon became anger. When the anger crept up, you could hear the light rumble of impending thunder, followed by the deadly strike of lightning.

The devil himself would have been shaking at your fury, begging for endless mercy.

She was right in front of you, even in death, she was angelic. You took this opportunity to let everything out. Your agonizing wails of pain echoed through the empty hospital hallways; patients, doctors, and nurses could all hear your life unfolding. This is genuine pain.

As preparations for Jills' body were put into place, you kissed her hand one last time. The last time. Your heart was officially broken; no amount of time would heal this fracture on your being. The second you exited the hospital room, you felt nothing.

A man you knew to be Jills' partner, Chris, was standing by the door. He, too, looked distraught, his tall, overpowering demeanor was gone. Replaced by utter sadness, he avoided eye contact as he caught your attention.

"I'm so sorry, I-I tried my best, but- "

You shook your head in response. You knew Chris would take this hard; Jill was his partner after all.

"Don't do that to yourself, she wouldn't let you," That was all you could manage; it was blunt but to the point.

"In the event of one of our- this is for you, I promised I would give it to you,"

Chris held out a small envelope, which you took before aimlessly walking through the silent corridor.

With those thoughts pushed aside, you looked down at the wrinkled envelope; it was slightly water damaged, so you hoped whatever was inside was still intact.

You took a seat by the playground; it was covered from rain by a small canopy. As you open the envelope, you take a deep breath when you realize it's a letter, and the handwriting is unmistakable. It was Jill who wrote this.

"So, I'm not good with this sort of thing. I hope that you never have to read this.

Anyway, Hi, babe. If you receive this letter then, well. I'm gone.

I want to start off by saying that I'm sorry. I know how you will react to this; you will be upset at first, but that will turn to anger; it will be with others at first, but soon the anger will be with yourself. Please don't let it consume you; I know you won't fight it, which is why I will personally come back and throw it out of you. (Drawn smiley face) when my light goes out, and it's my time to settle down, just know that my main concern will be you. Always you.

Secondly, I love you. I dedicated everything I have to you, but it still feels like it isn't enough. When I get home tonight, I will be sure to tell you ten times over just how much I love you.

Finally, since you probably/hopefully won't see this, I should tell you that I may have plans to get you a puppy for your birthday. You won't stop talking about it and well if it makes you smile. It will make me smile. Also want to add that I'm still waiting for you to propose; stop teasing me with it and ask the question already! The answer is always yes.

You're the one I can't live without.

This fact is true, I have no doubt.

I love the way you smile at me.

I love the way together we're free.

Your one and only, Jill."

Everything about this letter was crushing. She was waiting for you to propose. God was playing a sick game right now; he had no respect for your life. Everything that you wanted was supposed to happen tonight. You would finally spend the rest of your life with her until the powers beyond took it all away.

The tears continued to fall, and the rain had yet to die down. Looking out at the busy street beyond the park, the neon glow of high street shops surrounded by water droplets, created the aesthetic of a lifetime. You began to see her face in the rain; you could make out every single detail that made her so unique. As a flash of lightning temporarily blinded your vision, by the time it was back. Her face was gone.

There was no doubt that tonight would forever be remembered, just not in the way you hoped. The night you were to ask Jill for her hand in marriage was the same night you lost her forever.

[solaeter]

hate that I love you - Naoya Zenin [18+]

I haven’t actually written smut in like two years..well finished smutty content. I can barely start it and finish it, shame on me but I am pathetic °(ಗдಗ。)°. I am so nervous and shy, so pls no pitchforks and tomatoes _(:3」∠)_ this is a repost cause doubt hit me for a hot minute, but we gon be brave (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ 

Word Count: 2311

Request Status: OPEN

Warning[s]: Adult content, minors dni!! idk proper warnings cause my brain is fried atm, but there’s oral [f receiving], penetration which is given, slight manipulation? Naoya cause he’s a warning all on its own, noob attempt at dirty talk [I died k]. reader chan tries to hate naoya but can’t. It’s just porn without plot unless you squint.

Just when you thought you were safe, reality had another thing in mind. Strong hands pulled your hips up with a force that had your face hugging the pillow before you could register how you even allowed yourself to end up like this.

Why did it have to be now? You really thought you managed to get away. "Why are you doing this?" You turn your head, teeth latching to your bottom lip when two fingers glide along your clothed slit. 

"You don't seem to mind." Naoya remarked, his voice laced with disinterest and boredom while his eyes roamed your body. Three months..that's how long he's been without you. His favorite toy. "You're already so wet for me, miss my cock that much?" He questioned with a sneer, sliding your pretty little panties to the side. The sudden chill made you squirm and his words bit at your budding arousal.

"Couldn't you have found someone else to toy with?" You avoided his question, voice hitching when he slid a finger up your dripping slit, stopping at your clit and circling the bud ever so slowly. It wasn't fair how he could work your body so effortlessly. Your mouth parts as your eyes squeeze shut. 

Naoya smirks, his eyes never leaving your cute little cunt while you try to look as displeased as possible. You should have known getting away from him was quite literally impossible. He owned you. 

"Why should I find someone else when I only need you?" The sentence itself sounded sweet, but you knew it was far from what it suggested. Ever since you met Naoya, he's had you by the palm of his hand. He used you for his own needs, taking and taking before tossing you to the side. Yet, you lingered and remained loyal until you tried to end things. Naoya let you live in a false sense of newfound freedom, giving you just enough space before making your world tumble back down, right where he wanted you. 

Now, there was no denying that you looked absolutely stunning before him. Your body was meant for him, made for him to fuck over and over. You were his missing puzzle piece. When you don't answer Naoya, he clicks his tongue and brings his fingers down to your entrance, the tips teasing your hole before plunging knuckle deep, your walls clamping around him beautifully while you cry out.

The sudden intrusion made your thoughts muddle together and everything seemed to spin. Naoya could make you so stupid so easily and he laughs, so humorously. "Why would I find someone else when you're so..fucking worthless without me. I haven't even done anything and you're already stupid."

You glance back over your shoulder, cheeks burning when your eyes meet his cold ones. He never showed you an ounce of love, only half an inch of interest and a load of selfish, one sided desires. "I hate you." You spat while gripping the sheets when another finger eased its way inside you, stretching you further. Naoya curled his fingers roughly, swiping over the one spot that had stars in your eyes. He knew your body better than you knew it. Or so he claimed with a sense of pride. 

No matter how long you've been apart, Naoya would be sure to remind you that no one else will make you feel the way he does. Even if you're spouting words of hate, he just knows you won't stay away for too long. "Heh, sure you do." 

You wanted to be angry, call him out for being a vile piece of shit but nothing came out of your mouth besides helpless moans. 

"Look at you, so pretty and fucking useless. Baby can't even argue with me." Naoya talked down at you, thrusting his fingers in and out of your pretty cunt until you're clenching around him with a strangled, frustrated cry as pleasure washed over your body. "Damn, you couldn't even hold it in. I'm disappointed." Naoya removes his fingers and your hole clenches around nothing, searching for more.

Oh his little whore. To ruin you is his greatest desire. To have you so wrapped around him, that nothing else in this world can compare to what he does. It makes his blood boil in such a way he can't describe and it shoots straight down to his cock. But he can't have you just yet. 

Naoya has to break you more, see you crumble. So he flips you over and the gasp that leaves your pouty lips is nothing short of stupidly adorable. Even more so is how you look at him with wide, teary eyes. As if that would make his heart soften.

"Finally have something to say or are you just gonna stare at me like a fucked out fool?" Naoya spread your legs, bending to hike your skirt around your waist before fully removing your soaked panties. You were compliant, unmoving while he did as he pleased. To be honest, words failed you more when you needed them most. 

"I– please forgive me for leaving.." 

Naoya perked up when the words left your mouth, his own lips twisting into that of a sinister smile. "So you decided on being a good little bitch." He murmurs, placing a hot kiss on the side of your thigh. You always looked so good sprawled out before him, at his mercy. It had his mind spinning in circles, all the possibilities running rampant. "Where's your fight?" He asked casually, inching closer to your puffy cunt and you look down at him only to snap your head back onto the pillow. 

"I have none, I should have listened the first time." 

That sentence you knew by heart considering you've had to confess your wrong doings on multiple occasions. Naoya hums, content as his nose brushes against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body reacts on its own, knees bending and toes curling into the satin sheets. You tried to resist him, tried your damndest but it never worked. It frustrates you, so much that you groan and nearly close your legs around Naoya's stupidly pretty head. 

Firm hands catch your legs and dark eyes land on you. "Oh [Name], tell me what you're feeling. I'm dying to know." He didn't care. You let out a half laugh and sit up on your elbows. 

"I hate you. With my entire being but I can't get away. It's not fair. You're– ahh not f-fair." Your words falter when Naoya's tongue slides up your cunt, lapping up your essence before going back down to your entrance.

"Mhmm.." He listens half heartedly, instead enjoying the sweet taste of you that graces his lips. You became putty in his hands, just like that. So simple, one movement. One hand threaded through his short locks, fingers grasping onto what it could once his tongue dipped inside your awaiting hole. 

"Fuu–" You toss your head back, involuntarily pushing Naoya closer which causes him to chuckle and the rumbling of his body only has you sinking further into his palm. He watched you, how your chest would rise and fall as you panted, moaned and clung to him helplessly. Your reactions had his cock throbbing in his pants and he wasn't going to be able hold out much longer. 

Adjusting one of his arms, Naoya's fingers soon met your clit and circled it quickly, building you higher and higher. Your body jerks and he keeps a hold of you, halting your hips to keep you still. 

You tasted divine, like a special wine made just for Naoya. Your pretty moans were like music to his ears and when he pulls back, the whine that leaves your lips sounded almost sinful. "N-Naoya.." You look at him, eyes blown wide and vulnerable, so close to paradise. He smirks and continues his assault on your clit.

"What? You seem to be getting off just fine with my fingers. Now be a good little slut and cum for me." Naoya coos and just like that, your body listens to his every command. The coil snaps and your body trembles, legs spasming and threatening to close around his head but his unoccupied hand keeps them open while you cry out, incoherent words leaving your lips. 

Naoya can't deny the sight and he groans, the desire to fuck you clouding his thoughts. ""Ah– fuck – what a good girl." He praised, an odd thing coming from him but it has you smiling so stupidly. You watch Naoya through half lidded eyes as he eases you from your high, rubbing small, slow circles around your sensitive clit. Your hips still move with him, your body wanting more.

"Naoya..I need you inside me." You barely manage and if it wasn't for the fact Naoya was so turned on, he would have bitched at you. Instead he uses his free hand to undo his pants and free his aching cock from its hellish confines. 

Your eyes lock onto the throbbing member that now rests in his hand as he pumps it languidly. "Do you really deserve my cock? Last I checked," Naoya hovers above you, situating the tip right at your entrance. "You've been a bad girl." He teases you, pushing the tip just barely inside you before pulling back out. You whine, loudly with a pathetic pout forming on your lips. 

"Please, I need you. So bad, I'll never leave again!" You cry, beg and lift your hips in search of what you wanted so bad. All fight, resistance and negative feelings vanished when all your mind and body wanted was him to consume you..

“Is that so?” Naoya hummed, bottoming out inside of you before you could continue your pleas. Your eyes roll back and he has to suppress the groan that dares escape his own mouth. He never grew tired of how you felt; how your walls fluttered around his cock, how you took him so willingly. So easily. You were truly meant for him. 

The pace is set with languid thrusts, Naoya driving himself deep into your velvety walls. He watches your face contort and twist with pleasure and pain due to his size, it had him surging with a sense of animalistic pride. “Remember who you belong to.” He says lowly in your ear and all you can muster is a quick nod of your head as whimpers and cries leave your delicate lips. Your arms snake around his shoulders, keeping Naoya close while your legs lock around his waist.

“Look at you,” Naoya groans, shifting so that you now sat on his lap, his cock hitting places that made your head spin, “Taking me so well- goddamn - be a little louder. Let everyone hear what a slut you are.” He demands, his voice low and strained. You helplessly comply, bouncing up and down on his lap like a good girl. Your head was warped, just like he wanted. Every moan, cry and wail sounded like a symphony that was only meant for him. Naoya held your hips tightly, guiding your frantic movements, hitting every spot inside you that made you grasp onto him like some type of savior.

Ah yes, Naoya definitely is your savior in his sick twisted head. Though he hisses when your nails scratch his neck, leaving noticeable marks that surely would be questioned later. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest. If anything, it made him fuck you harder, his cock ramming your drenched hole as if it were his last day on this earth. The lewd sounds of your juices squelching every time he fills you had him going crazy and he ignored how you drenched his lap, uncaring of the mess since he so graciously caused it. 

“So close, Naoya please,” Your voice is weak and broken, body trembling as it reaches the peak of nirvana. Naoya wasn’t far off from his own release and instead of being a total asshole like he wanted to be, he held you close.

“Let it go, baby.” He urged before biting down on your neck, sucking the tender spot to leave a claim on your body. You whine and unravel, pleasure overwhelming your body, legs trembling and shaking, you were thankful to be on his lap or you would have gone down. Naoya continues to fuck you, chasing his own release and groaning loudly when hot ropes of cum paint your delicate walls. He fills you completely, uncaring if you ended up bearing one of his kids. Hell the thought only made him feel more possessive. It would give him a greater claim over you, keep you with him.

Before Naoya allowed himself to get aroused once more, he removed you off his lap and got off the dirtied bed to fix his clothing. You watch in your fucked out daze, the grips of confusion and longing playing tug of war in your heart. 

“W-Where are you going?” Your voice sounded so soft, so submissive. Naoya glances back and he admires his handiwork. You were an absolute mess. “You can’t..just leave me like this.” 

How desperate. Naoya bit back a laugh, bending to pick up your discarded panties and toss them onto your stomach. 

“If you want me so bad, you know where to find me.”

With that, Naoya bids his farewells and leaves you like you did to him three months ago. But he knew that you’d come crawling to him before the night ended.

On the other hand, you stared at the ceiling until your heart calmed down and were able to get off the bed. Would you run back to him? Even though you wanted to say no, your body said otherwise with the longing for his touch.

The only thing you knew for certain was that you hated that you loved him. 

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

there is something your writing makes me feel that no other fics do and i cannot put it into words but it is incredible. i don’t know how ti explain but you’re able to establish such a loving. sweet. calm. peaceful feeling. in the words that you use and i UGHHBDBDNDSN you really have a talent. and i love how you write marc

also i love rare hearts but haven’t heard it in a while so i went back for a relisten and i’d like to thank you for that

Bestie I don't even know what to say to this. It literally brought tears to my eyes when I read your message.

I have been writing for various Marvel characters for about a year and a half now, but I deactivated a couple of months ago for various reasons. I wasn't really sure if I was going to get back into writing but looking back on it now, one of the biggest struggles for me, right before I ended my old blog was that I kept repeating to myself 'show don't tell'.

I was such a huge stickler for that, that even when I wanted to be like 'he was jealous, his eyes were flaring' or something along the lines of that, I'd thought I'd have to write a flashback with fleshed out dialogue that fit into the story's plot to show how that character would get jealous and vaguely imply it when I got back to the main plot.

That for me was extremely suffocating. I would want to write a simple 1k and then I'd be neck deep in 12k with no end in sight.

Then everything really changed.

Idk if you can tell, but I am obsessed with the Sally Rooney extended universe (lol). During my little break I got the chance to read Normal People and Conversations with Friends as well as watch both of their Hulu series. What amazed me with Sally Rooney was how 'telling not showing' her writing was, and how well it worked for her. Her writing extremely moved me when I was reading it, so when I started writing again, I tried to let go of that hard rule I kept for myself.

Not to get too much into the beef I have with the MCU, I also think that I had hit a bit of a creative dead end with the characters I was writing for. The MCU had taken their characterisations in ways I didn't identify with, and that left me little to no creative foundations to draw form, having already exhausted some of their earlier content.

But Moon Knight really kinda just took over my world the way the other movies and shows didn't. It was spectacularly executed, and really rooted in reality.

Besides that, Marc just speaks to me on another level, Steven too. The struggle that Marc went through, the way it's portrayed on the show, and Oscar Isacc's specatcular acting really was the whole deal. I guess my writing stemmed from the violent need I had to hug him in Episode 5.

So, to put it mildly, it's not just me, it's this heaping spoonful of top-tier quality content I've consumed in the past few months, as well as the fact that I've stopped policing what I write so much.

I love you, nonnie, you're the absolute sweetest for telling me this, I really just want to melt into the ground. Sorry if this wasn't the answer you were really looking for.

[peakascum]

The Room Where It Happens

Request for: @slither-in-a-half I know this is a bit different than what you asked for and it’s way different than what I originally intended to write, but I really do hope you enjoy it!

Two politicians stand on opposites sides of each other for a Charity event, something to do with children or painting the Parliment’s ceiling. Thomas Shelby sips a chilled Merlot as he eyes the posh MP’s that mingle alongside him, noses turned up and head in their ass. In front of him lurks another MP, a much snobbier one at that, whom galavants his wife like a bloody medal. You don’t mind, at least not publicly. Always playing the trophy wife, always sporting a smile, always curtsying a ‘What a lovely evening’. Thomas knows he’s playing a dangerous game as he eyes your cherry red lips gulp down yet another glass. It’s the urgency in which you consume the devil’s drink that always catches his attention. He knows how soft your hands are and how delicately you maneuver them from the countless times you've touched his.

The condition of being stuck in a loveless marriage would drive anyone mad. Add a little bit of brute force and a make-believe smile, and that would be enough to send cries for help. Which you had done so on several occasions, but no one took them seriously; instead, they deemed you as a bored housewife. You had heard the tales, everyone had, of the countless wives of esteemed families that suddenly had public outbursts which were deemed as hysterical. You were familiar with the stories, about Mrs. Dormer’s dull complexion and Mrs. Hastings’ scarred wrists, all whispers of misfortune were now your reality. 

Tommy and your husband had never seen eye to eye on any particular topic. Both were stubborn men who belonged to different political parties and lived completely different realities. Your husband was born with a silver spoon in hand while Tommy built his kingdom out of wooden sticks and cut stones. But those eyes, those adoring blue eyes wrapped you in from the first time they met. It started with stolen glances and escalated to a passionate night shared in his office as you delivered some papers on behalf of your husband. He decided you had the loveliest broken smile he had ever seen. The most delicate laugh and the wittiest humor, one he would not mind hearing time and time again. 

‘Did you listen to a word I said Mr. Shelby?’

‘I- I don’t believe I did, no.’ He remarked, clearing his throat.

She smirked. ‘I-I-I’ She mocked. ‘Stuttering is for children and tight-lipped fools. Are you a fool Mr. Shelby?’

You exhaled words of pleasure in each others ears. Bodies molding together like clay and fingertips eager to explore. Exhaustion came after and a simple kiss was placed upon his lover’s lips as if it were already a routine. Both clinging to the affection you so desperately craved.

Months of passion were spent in secrecy up until the moment your husband caught on, almost crushing your wind pipe and blinding you out of rage. Not because he loved you, oh no, but because he craved power and dominance. A poor little rich boy does not share. So when the venue and seating were arranged for the gala he made sure to have Thomas Shelby in front of him, to taunt you, to dangle his prized possession in his  opponent's face. To give you a glimpse into the life you wanted, yet gripping your thigh beneath the table as if saying ‘Don’t you dare’. 

The torrid affair you shared with the Shelby man had ended a few weeks prior with a handwritten letter, but your absence from such events told him what he couldn't decipher from your words. 

‘Dear sir, 

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I hope you understand my reason for ending this relationship. I love my husband, you see, and the idea of breaking this marriage is enough to make my heart weep. My whorish ways have brought misery to my house, but be not alarmed by this, for my husband is very generous and will gladly offer you a sum of money for your silence. You must excuse my behavior these past few months and, therefore, understand the severity of the situation. 

Best wishes, Y/N.’

The letter sat in his pocket weighing heavily against the floor. He rejected the money, of course, but it didn't save his heart from breaking any further, and his mind from wandering to the atrocious acts your husband performed out of hatred. Thomas was a dangerous man, but your husband was worse, and his wrath would treble his political career, crease his business, and ruin his family. Polly had warned him many times about the dangers of thinking with his cock, but it was more than that. Arthur had payed for other whores to keep him company, but he could bed no other. It was the way you said his name in wonder whenever you saw each other after weeks apart. You were a wondrous creature shrouded in a mysterious, yet inviting, aura. One who sported a smile, such a sweet smile on those cherry red lips that made his own twitch and heart clench. 

It was the way you grimaced as your husband squeezed your arm that made his feet have a life of their own. He marched confidently up to you both, eyeing him with brutality, but switching to you with softness. Your eyes widened pleadingly at him to stop, to stop at once, to turn around and save himself from trouble. 

“Ah Mr. Shelby, what a pleasant surprise.” Your husband said, sporting a tight smile and a poised stance. Tommy nodded, “Mr. Crooke, Mr.s- Crooke”. Your eyes bore daggers into his. Your husband shook his hand firmly in a weak attempt to exhume further dominance, when, in truth, all of them knew who really owned the room. 

“Excuse my wife’s appearance, say. She’s not been her best these past few weeks, isn't that right darling?” Your husband said as he ran the back of his index finger gently over your cheek. Your once shimmering eyes appeared lifeless under the yellowish glare of the chandelier- a shell of the woman you had been, the woman you should be. “Wonder why that is sir,” Tommy bit back. Your husband chuckled, “You’re a bold man Mr. Shelby.” The men stared down at each other down as men tend to do.

“So they say.” Tommy replied.

“You've caught my attention, Mr. Shelby,” your husband started, “and in a most ill-manner may I add.” Tommy quirked a brow and urged him to go on. “Mr. Shelby I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for me to comment on my wife’s extra curricular, is it not?” Your posture remained stoic, eyes trained to the expensive champagne in your hand praying that somehow you could shrink ten sizes and bathe in it. Stretch your arms and do laps on the clear glasses that British aristocracy drank in sighs and content giggles. You had silly daydreams like these. Some not so silly. Ones drenched in crimson liquid as if you were a butcher at the end of your shift, only to look around and see your husband’s body displayed in all his fat glory. 

You sucked in a breath and uttered, “Gentlemen you must excuse me, I need to use the powder room.” Your husbands hand stopped gripped your forearm as you made your exit, “Don’t be long dear.” He uttered menacingly. 

You leaned up against the green wall that lead to a long corridor, away from prying eyes and the clink of heels against expensive tiles. Lungs heavy, hands trembling, and mouth parting like a fish out of water. You felt foolish. You had lived years below your husband’s scrutinizing thumb, surrounded by words of empty headed strangers on how lucky you were to have married such a bright and clever man. A man who rejoiced at the sight of her trembling figure and got off on her agonizing screams that left her feeling like a vegetable for days. A man who curiously spit false facts with such emotion that caught the ears of the rich and the weak. And then she met him. And then life ripped that away. 

As if on cue, Tommy hurried towards her with that ever prominent scowl on his face, “Y/N, love-“

“No! No Tommy we cannot speak!” She pushed his hands away, further encouraging the scowl to become two tattooed lines in between his eyes. “Listen to me Y/N, stop fighting and fuckin’ listen ey?” He grabbed her trembling hands in his careful not to hurt her further. “What? What could possibly be so important to tell me right now that would make tonight’s punishment worth it?” You growled in contempt. 

“In about three minutes I will go into a room with your husband to bargain your freedom.” He grabbed your plum face in his hands, urging for your eyes to meet, for a reassurance, a peace of mind, a promise.

“He won’t give me up Tommy, he won’t.” You noticed his eyes waiver in a way that only a heartbreak could cause. They were filled with urgency, a sense of dread, because how could you not trust him? How could you not see that everything he is and everything he does is for you? 

“The greatest grief in my life will come if I leave you in the hands of that monster. All of this,” he said gesturing around him, “all of this is collateral, Y/N. I’ve accepted that risk of dying, I do it every day for stupid shit Y/N, for really stupid shit.”

“Oh God! Oh God!” You moaned, crying in despair. You shook your head as tears coated your frosted cheeks, unable to comprehend the thought of freedom and actual love. 

The orchestra started playing in the dining hall soliciting the guest’s attention to a melodic grace. The violins struck their cords in an unruly manner, insisting on being heard. Your husband whistled as he came toward you both making you separate. “Mr. Shelby, I believe we have pressing matters to attend?” He said. In his shifty brown eyes lied an expression you could not read. And so both men entered the room with the big fireplace and oak chairs. The mahogany door closed with a thud that coincidentally resonated beautifully with the melodic sound of the band. 

The doors opened just as quickly as they had closed. Or had the hours flown by? You couldn't tell. In the torturous time you had been left outside, a small crowd had gathered around you. Whispers of ‘mistress’ and ‘foes’ and ‘ruins’ had been said, but most just repeated the few phrases that could be heard from inside the room. The two politicians stepped out having reached a mutual decision. One having lost a sum of money that would leave him in financial ruin for the rest of his life. The other with promised assets that would change his family’s fortune and the value of his name. 

Your eyes met the Shelby’s blue ones, a smirk adorning his features as he stared at you. His woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you doubting me love?” He murmured. You shook your head in disbelief, a small smile itching to be seen as your eyes darted over to your husband. “I don’t- I don’t get it Tommy, what did you do?” You asked grasping the lapels of his evening suit. Your hands tugging and caressing them ceremoniously as anxious tears pooled in your eyes. 

“Don’t concern yourself with business Y/N-“

“No! No, I will most certainly concern myself with business. Business that involves me. Business that has a means to freedom and life- a life Tommy, a-a life without fear.” She insisted, but he only smiled and kissed her lips gently, ignoring the ever growing fight that surrounded them. Your husband had drawn a gun in contempt, only to be tackled by Tommy’s men. He never was quick on his feet. 

*

It happened months later in the middle of an uncertain spring, when his face popped in your mind again. You had seen him in the shadows and in every drunk that passed you in the street. You saw him beneath the knife of the butcher, when rain fell from parted skies, and in the ominous sound violins made when played. But worst of all, you had seen his face in Arthur Shelby’s as he screamed at you yet again for getting in his way. Most of the family had accepted your relationship, as they pitied your cold sweats and silent demeanor, but mostly because the deal didn't ruin the Shelby empire. 

Once home, you stared aimlessly at the crackling fire, allowing the warmth to envelope you like a protective hug. Tommy made his way towards your figure and sat cross legged, whisky in hand. “Where’s your mind today, bird?” He whispered, tenderly stroking your pinned hair. 

“Thinking about the night my husband sold me like cattle.” Tommy side eyed you, clearly tense about the topic. “Did he?” you pressed again, “no one’s ever told me anything about it. I know we technically won, b- but Arthur’s been up my arse again and I can’t, not for the life of me, continue to be a prisoner of utterly worthless and untrue remarks!” She grew agitated withe very word, but all were true, and he knew this. His hand continued rubbing circles in the back of her neck and chuckle, a small one, escaped his lips. 

“Do you take me for a fool Tommy? Because I assure-“

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “You're no fool. I think you've proven that a few times now, right? You weren't a fool when you were with him and you're not one now.” 

“Then what, Tommy? What could have possibly been said that guaranteed my freedom and his ruin?”

He sighed sensing her desperation, but he couldn't possibly tell her. In fact, he hadn't even told his family. Arthur’s distaste for Y/N was shrouded in mystery itself, more so a rendition of the protective older brother, a one man play. Any other man would have disclosed the information to a close confidant, but not Tommy- never Tommy. It is why under the fire’s glow and the tenderness of your flesh beneath his fingers, he promised himself yet again to never speak a word of it to anyone, not even you. It would remain an active memory buried in the inner, darkest corners of his mind. Each time he visited Mr. Crooke, in a most disclosed location, he would remember to discard the clothing used and have an alibi prepared. A pesky little thing he was, a washed up creature that would receive every punishment he gave;  but no one should know, least of all her, because just like that night, no one else was in the room where it happened. No one knew the words that were spoken or how the deal was made. 

Only assumptions were made. And with one last stroke of the cheek and a light kiss to the lips, Thomas Shelby and Y/N stood up in silent agreement and retired to their newly marital bed. 

[moondustaeil]

𝐫𝐞:𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

↳ Ambrosia's not-so-happy life update.

trigger warning, this post includes: weight loss, food, calorie counting, disordered eating habits, suicide, insecurities, fears.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭?

As I contemplate whether I should make an earnest post look as aesthetic as possible, my eyes are tearing up to Lee Chansub's "Gone". Therefore, this chapter gets named after his lyrics.

Since when was it? It's a question that crosses my mind after deciding on the chapter name, even though I'm well aware of the number of days that have passed. Each day I write that significant number in my journal, but there must be more than the pen can write. Beyond my awareness: there must have been a certain amount of time spent on a prologue to pen down the event that ultimately led to this chapter.

Since where was it? There could be multiple meanings behind the question, but I can only formulate a limited answer despite the openness. As far as I'm in charge of this story, there is no why or where. Yes, I quite literally woke up one day and decided to go on a diet, simple as that. Before that day, dieting never crossed my mind: I never saw my body as too much or myself as too little compared to others. Can you understand now why I think a prologue was written for me and not by me?

Anyhow, let's have a look at how I think I experienced my life before the diet. Sometimes I think I don't even remember how I experienced the last moments of it, but that doesn't mean I don't know how it went. My life before the diet was pretty plain: I didn't engage in any social or physical activities and spent most of my time behind my laptop to write or lurk around on YouTube. Eating-habit-wise, I never ate much: three meals a day with occasional snacks, those snacks probably covering more calories than my meals did. Despite eating calorie-covering snacks, I would have given my all for fruit and vegetables, especially frozen fruit. Back then, I already had significant eating habits: I'd eat nuts when I was stressed, drink smoothies while studying for exams, eat sour sweets when I was bored. My body before the diet wasn't that noteworthy: I maintained the same weight for around three years and only ditched my tight jeans because covid had me feeling too lazy to wear them. A youth like this might sound boring to you, but I gladly lived my life like this and, I don't regret the way I spent it.

I can still recall up to two days before it began: I can tell the contents of those days like I was the supporting cast instead of the main character, simply because I can't remember the emotions. The two last days were spent behind my laptop, waiting for the exam results while eating spicy nuts (to keep the stress level low). When the exam results came, and I realised I passed them all, I must have felt relieved. But in my memory, I didn't and don't feel anything at all concerning my exams. And that's where it stops. I don't even know where it starts again.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

It quite literally feels like I woke up with no memories of the first days of the diet: I can recall what I ate, but not what I did or felt.

On the first day, I drank a strawberry oat smoothie for breakfast. It was my first self-made smoothie which was convincingly delicious compared to the bought smoothies I used to have. That same day, I stopped eating snacks: unknowingly, I restricted them and wouldn't allow them for the months after.

That paragraph is all I remember from the first day, and if I were to write one about every day of that week, it would be less each day. Maybe those days just weren't memory-worthy enough as I don't want to search for a reason behind every single thing.

For approximately twenty-eight days after the first one, I have no recollections. The only way I can reflect on those days is by checking my calorie intake and physical activity. Though, it doesn't feel like I was the one who tracked it.

The first proper recollection I have is of a day I ate 180 calories for the first time: a number I can only wonder about now. Though it was my first time having such a low intake, it wasn't the last or lowest. The number 180 seemed to attract me as in the days that followed, 180 would be the maximum amount of calories I'd consume. Back then, I had no idea what TDEE or BMR (of any of the other terms) were, so I can't tell you what my deficit was. But I would burn around 1200 calories a day by exercising, and that should be enough to raise red flags.

From that point on, even though I was probably slowly killing myself, I felt alive. A growing obsession with food, weight loss and exercise was fueling my mind. While my body was left behind, trying to catch up with the pace. If I didn't lose more than 1 gram overnight, I'd starve myself the next day. If I felt too lazy to exercise, I'd punish myself for being lazy by doing more. My weight dropped a lot, up to the point where the scale sometimes seemed to skip numbers.

Then a parent swap came: I would be staying with my dad for two weeks. In advance, I had already figured out everything I thought I needed to know: how I would skip meals without him finding out, at what times I could exercise without him knowing, where I could throw away the food he thought I would eat. The day I packed my bag and left for his house, my plans turned into action.

The two weeks there went as smooth as I planned them to go. Even with bonuses: he worked up to three days a week and did not question it when I didn't eat. In those two weeks, I would replace kpop videos with programs I used to despise: supersize versus superskinny and mukbangs. The videos would satisfy my hunger in some way, even though they caused me to start nailbiting. I wouldn't eat: I would only watch as others fed themselves.

Since I lost the initial subject I wanted to discuss in this chapter (I'm so sorry), I shall be moving on to the next chapter.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭?

It was at this point that people were starting to notice things that I hadn't. Sometimes those things were appearance-related and, other times it was personality-related or even habit-related.

It started with a compliment from my aunt, and I felt like I was glowing when she mentioned my visible jawline and thin face. Maybe I was slightly disappointed that she noticed the facial changes before my body but, at the same time, she noticed a difference!

After her, people started commenting on my body, and I worked more to achieve those comments. I saw them as comments rather than compliments: I didn't tire myself out starting from 5:20 am every day just to receive a meaningless compliment. I wanted people to take notice.

And, they did. People that directly surrounded me were starting to notice things that I failed to see. Mostly stuff that changed about my personality while my body was changing. My mother told me that I became the opposite of easy-going and friendly when others were around. My sister told me that my facial expressions had gone even further than my usual resting bitch face. My nephew said that all I would do was try to end up in arguments with others and that he didn't like being around me anymore. It hurt to have all of those things said, but at the same time, I was too in denial to care. The only thing I cared about was food, exercise and losing weight.

On rare occasions, I became aware of the person I became. Mostly when others would try to reach me by calling or coming over but I was too busy to talk to them, and if I did, I would talk about food-related things only. So, I shut everyone out.

I no longer talked to my friends daily, wouldn't reply to my parents sending me messages, didn't go on social media unless it was to look at food or triggering images.

The world consisted of me and was ruled by my obsession.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

There is an unknown amount of time that settles itself between the previous chapter and this chapter. During this time, I once again feel like I'm just a supporting character: my habits develop and my obsession rules over everything I do.

Many of the things I did (which already wasn't a lot, to begin with), were based on stuff I said already. Though even more refined and obsessive.

When I closed my eyes, sleep would take me to dreams about food and weight loss. Approximately three times a night, I would open my eyes, assume it was morning and get ready for another day of exhaustion and starvation. Those nightly hours are still engraved in my mind and current habits: 12:00 am, 3:20 am, 5:28 am.

It is in this chapter that a slow awareness creeps up on me. The side effects are what wakens me when everything else consumes me: constant thoughts about food, the inability to sleep, not being able to think or focus, drifting from reality, always feeling cold, tingling headaches, not leaving the house for days unless it's for shopping (because I would look at food I couldn't eat).

"I need to stop," I told myself while I wrote in my journal how much better I would be if I lost some more weight because the scale is tempting me.

I didn't want to stop. I just wanted it to stop.

Though in reality, I had no control to stop myself or it. I had lost control long ago, and to this day, I still have no idea at which chapter I left it behind. Some days I thought of how to stop, but the exit sign was more like a full-stop as it led me to think of killing myself: it would make my family stop commenting on my condition and could give me a sense of freedom even though I would be dead.

It surely wasn't the first time I passed that exit sign in life, but it was the first time I felt determined to pass it by. All I wanted was to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking of food. *Snort*, such high standards.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Unexpectedly, a good dream did cloud over my bedroom. Even though it was simple, it's one of the dreams that I hope to keep in my memory forever. And for laughs, I'll share it.

TO1-member Donggeon was standing near my garage but, my mother's car wasn't in the driveway because she wasn't home. I was standing outside with him while he talked with Wei's Donghan (who was invisible to me). They were having a casual conversation in Korean. Then, he wanted to lean against the car that wasn't in the driveway, causing him to fall on all fours. He laughed at his stupidity and, at the same time, his ears were getting red from embarrassment.

That pretty much sums up the first not-food-related dream I had during my entire journey. And I still remember waking up at 3:20 am, laughing: it was stupid and silly but left such a big impression on me. And that's when I told myself: "I need to recover".

It sounds silly but I still, to this day, think that this dream set me off into recovery mode. Even though I felt like I had no control, I tried to take control: calculated a number of calories that I surely had to eat each day, planned Thursday to be my active rest-day, found less intense workouts to do in the morning, tried to replace the mukbangs in my watch later list by relaxing videos or recovery videos, scheduled to journal every day. Though I told myself I would do those things, it wasn't easy to put my words into action.

Yet, I fucking did it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Not going to lie: I spent all night wondering how I was going to write this and all morning putting it into proper words. Hence, the reason why I'm feeling exhausted: too exhausted to continue writing it even though the blooming period is so close. So instead of giving a lecture on recovery: I will try to give my opinion on recovering and how I'm doing these days.

Each day, I still question whether I'm truly in a recovery of something. I never went to see a professional or verbally admitted to my problems, so I never learned whether I'm recovering from something or just making progress after a downfall. I might be familiar with the use of DSM-4 and DSM-5 but, that doesn't mean I'm qualified to judge on whether I had/have a disorder or not. Yet, I opt to use the terms disordered eating and recovery until I'm sure of what it was that I went through.

Some days it feels like I was faking all of it, but then I realise, how was I faking it while I was going through it and experiencing it? Perhaps some of you reading even think I am faking all of the above, but that's your opinion. I don't need to defend myself for feeling things.

Now, I'll update you on where I'm standing today because I guess I wrote six chapters in order to get to this point. We all know I like to write more than necessary.

⋅ My disordered eating habits and calorie intake: I have made quite some progress (even if I say so myself). Each week, I challenge myself to increase my calorie intake by 100 until I reach my maintenance calories. It isn't as easy as it sounds because by the time I actually dared to increase by ten calories, the week is over, and I have to adjust my goal because I wasn't even able to reach close to where I planned to be. This week my goal is to eat 800 calories a day: a number that unexpectedly is paired with a lot of guilt and fear, so I haven't been able to eat that amount yet. The maximum I've eaten is 641 calories a day. Together with that, I also promised myself to eat one fear food or not-eaten food a week: that way, I hope to stop restricting myself and learn to enjoy them again. Some lasting habits I developed: I fear eating too early and will try to push back eating as late as I can because it gives me the feeling that I can enjoy it for longer but I do have strict hours, I cut everything into mini pieces because it gives me the feeling that I have more to nibble on and more to enjoy, I read every single nutrition label multiple times (in the store and at home) because I fear that it might include too many calories or fat, I don't eat anything that I didn't plan and nothing that I can't track calorie-wise, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day because I feel like it's the only food I can trust. The urge to skip meals or lie about them is getting smaller, but the thought always remains in the back of my mind.

⋅ My weight: I'm at a weight that is still considered healthy according to whoever feels qualified to judge. However, I fear gaining weight every single day, which stops me from eating my weekly allowance. Despite eating more than at the start of this: I still lose weight. The weight loss fuels the bad habits once more, but I try to tell myself that my weight is only to indicate whether I'm close to my maintenance calories or not.

⋅ My body: my body kept most of its side effects inside until I started to recover aside from the ones that I've stated before. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't feel cold despite wearing a shirt only, so that was a win for my body. However, I do have constant headaches, get blackouts often and, I easily feel my energy draining whenever I do a little bit too much (which I didn't always feel when I was actively doing it). That being said, my abilities have definitely decreased: you can read what kind of exercise I do in the next paragraph, but it has decreased a lot because I will feel weak sooner than before.

⋅ Exercise: I am between struggling and not struggling with it. The reason why I started to exercise was to burn more calories than I ate. But back then, I had no knowledge of BMR and whatnot. These days I do a lot less impactful exercise than I did before, but I still exercise each day: I do 96 minutes of stationary cycling a day, go on daily walks and have the obsession to take steps whenever I'm standing still. As you might be able to tell, I feel like I'm on the line of having control here.

⋅ My personality/social life/hobbies: even though I was in denial about my changing personality for a long while, I eventually realised that people were right when they said I changed. The realisation came during recovery, mostly because I noticed how I was in a better mood than when I was at my lowest point. My social life is building up slowly and doesn't always include me having to talk about my weight loss or food, though people always mention it so, I do always end up having to talk about it without wanting to. As for hobbies, I found my interest in kpop and writing again but, it's still at a somewhat moderate level. I still find myself lurking at food-related posts or triggering things, but I can control myself better and watch some positive videos instead. Aside from that, I journal every day: I write down what I ate, my physical activity, what I saw as memorable in my day, and more.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

That's pretty much all for the life update. I still left out a lot that I failed to remember while writing or felt too tired to write about, and I bet not a lot of you are interested in any of this anyway. I just felt like I owed everyone an explanation of where I've been and why I haven't been reblogging much or writing.

As I've stated a few times before, I don't know yet when I will get back into writing or posting content. And the past months made me realise that it might be good for myself if I take some time away from Tumblr: I won't be able to look for triggering content, won't be able to trigger anyone else on accident and can focus on working towards my goals.

I hate the word hiatus but I think this means that I will be going on semi-hiatus. On good days, I might still come here to talk to my mutuals or reblog some kpop content that I enjoy. But other times, I probably won't respond or interact much as I'm logged out.

For now, my semi-hiatus will continue until mid to end September. This might be shortened or extended depending on my progress and my personal needs.

Have a lovely day, moonflowers! 💌

[dadspeed-appreciationsquad]

Content

Gary isn't used to people touching him. Side hugs, hand holding, it's all new to him.

He flinches almost everytime someone places a hand on his shoulder. Not in a bad way, just in a "oh my crap this is a lot of sensations I'm feeling" kinda way.

Set in Final Space. This can be read by itself or you can perceive it between How Do I Tell Him? And Changes.

~

Gary was used to loneliness. He was almost comforted by the familiar feeling it gave. The empty feeling in his chest that consumed him for most of his life, at least until Mooncake showed up and changed everything. But can you blame the guy? He spent 5 years in solitude and even before that he didn't really have any friends or family to share the occasional "hug" with. Before Gary was imprisoned, he was alone for most of his life. The only person that had shown him any love or affection had died when he was young, too young to really retain what affection felt like.

So his friends touching him was an entirely new experience.

His friends aren't really ones to display affection, they're the type to give an excited hug after a job well done or a pat on the shoulder if you did something good. But they almost never laid a hand on another when an adrenaline rush wasn't involved.

Gary on the other hand, has always been a touchy guy. Pats on the back, arms swung around shoulders, Gary is a very friendly person. He likes to be around people and be close to the ones he trusts.

Sometimes he wonders if he's being annoying or clingy when he drapes himself over Avocato or leans against him, but Avocato hasn't said anything against it, so Gary hasn't stopped. Gary could tell he hated it at first, but he's like a cat. Once they like you, and I mean really like you, they'll seek you out when they want attention.

Gary isn't new to touching people, he's just new to people touching him.

He doesn't mean that in a bad way, he's not entirely uncomfortable with touching. It was more like, something as small as a side hug sent shivers down his spine. Or if someone, not naming names, nuzzled up to him, he'd immediately get weak in the knees, and not in a "God he's so hot I'm weak" kinda way. Him being weird about touch wasn't always based on his attraction. When his mom patted him on the back he flinched away, not because he was upset, it was just. Weird. It was like, it was too much. He would get overwhelmed when someone else touched him.

Was this normal?

It kinda creeped him out to be honest.

One of the only people that were an exception was Little Cato. He felt comforted when he and Little Cato hugged or clasped. It didn't feel uncomfortable or like it was too much. He doesn't know why or what makes him different. Maybe it was the level of trust? No, because he trusts Quinn and he trusted Nightfall. Maybe it was because they had both comforted each other multiple times to the point touching became their way of comfort?

He's not sure.

On the other side, Avocato also wasn't used to touching, which Gary provided a sufficient amount of. It was weird at first, actually it took everything in him to not claw Gary's eyes out when they first met. But as they grew closer, he began to trust Gary. It was different than what he was used to. He was once a highly respected General, he was untouchable. Those under his command could hardly even look at him, not that they wanted to. But now, Gary quite literally drapes himself over him. It wasn't bad, not that Avocato would ever admit that. It's a nice change of pace, and he trusts Gary.

After some time, Avocato began seeking out his touch. He would stand way too close, sit too close, and he even leaned into any touch Gary provided. Avocato would find himself nuzzling into hugs only to deny it if questioned. Gary got the hint after the first few denials. So he stopped asking and just went with it.

Eventually Avocato began to get impatient while waiting for Gary to initiate touches. Gary was always busy doing repairs, counting stock, flying, there was always something he had to do. So Avocato started dishing it out as well.

Which is what induced Gary into a small panic of flinching gasps and small jolts.

It started small, hands on shoulders, brushing hands together when standing too close, and Avocato has even started giving Gary the occasional side hug whenever they were standing next to each other. If Gary was sitting, Avocato would drape his arm over Gary's shoulder. If Gary was standing, Avocato would wrap his arm around Gary's waist. He hardly noticed Gary's odd fidgeting whenever they touched, and when he did, he figured it was just Gary being Gary.

If either of them were weirded out, no one said anything. So the small touches kept happening and more of it.

~

Avocato walked into the lounge to see Gary sipping from a coffee mug. He was leaning against the table, half of his torso on the table. Gary had to tilt his head upwards awkwardly and slowly sip at his drink to not spill it. Avocato smiled and cradled his cup of milk close to him as he walked over.

"I hope you're not drinking coffee at this hour." Avocato placed his cup on the table and sat across Gary, crossing his legs. He leaned back against the booth in a relaxed manner. Gary looked up at Avocato.

"Nope, just some warm milk." He raised his mug and gave a small smile before setting it back down.

"Can't sleep?" Avocato took a sip from his cup and leaned forward. He noticed the bags under Gary's eyes and tried not to frown.

Gary shrugged. "Not really, what are you doing up at this hour?" Although they couldn't really perceive time in Final Space, the Crimson Light had a day and night cycle. Light for 12 hours, dimmed lights for 12 hours. Sheryl was the one currently keeping an eye on piloting while most slept.

Avocato mimicked Gary and shrugged. "Can't sleep." They sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying the presence of the other. They both took sips from their drink before Gary smiled deviously. Avocato furrowed his brow.

"So what if we could help each other?" Gary asked innocently, batting his eyelashes. Avocato bit his lip and narrowed his eyes.

"How so?" Gary stood and leaned forward on the table, getting very close to Avocato's face. Avocato was used to this behavior, so he just stared at Gary with a raised brow. He also wasn't too upset about the sudden proximity.

"Sleepover!" Gary moved out from the booth and grabbed Avocato's hand. He dragged him to his room, drinks left forgotten. He tugged Avocato through the halls and to his room.

"Wa-Wait, Gary, I-" Gary opened his door and pushed Avocato in. Avocato stumbled slightly and turned to look at Gary.

"No buts! What better way to exhaust yourself than hanging out with your best bud?" Gary placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest proudly.

Avocato rolled his eyes. "I can think of a few better ways." He muttered to himself with a smirk on his face.

"Hmm? What was that?" Gary tilted his head, too into his own world to understand what Avocato was implying.

Avocato simply shook his head. "You want to play cards then?"

Gary's face lit up and a bright smile displayed across his face. It's been awhile since Avocato had seen Gary smile like that.

He tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

Gary nodded his head viciously and moved to his bed, grabbing his cards from his nightstand on the way. He jumped on the bed and sat criss crossed. The energetic man-child began to excitedly shuffle the cards as he patted the other side of the bed.

"Are you going to play, or just stand there?"

Avocato walked over and sat across from him. "Of course I'm going to play. I just don't know if you can handle losing."

Gary laughed. "They only thing I'll have to handle is your sore loser attitude!" Gary began dealing the cards. They started with a simple game of SlapJack. Both were very aggressive and competitive. Gary loved playing with Avocato most because he matched Gary's level of aggression in cards, it's not easy to find a partner that can dish it out and take the heat.

They flipped cards over back and forth so quickly a bystander would think it was life or death. A jack appeared and they both slammed their hands on the card, making all the cards on the bed bounce at their violent attack.

"Dammit!" Gary removed his hand and let Avocato take the cards.

"Come on baby, you are trying aren't you?" Avocato purred and gave him a lazy smile. Gary pursed his lips.

"Of course, it was just a warm up round. I wanted to see if you were paying attention."

Avocato laughed and nodded his head towards the game. "Well maybe you should stop staring at me and look at the cards instead."

"It's hard not to stare." Gary's face flushed as soon as he said it. He looked up to see that Avocato was too focused on the game to have even heard what he'd said.

Gary let out a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately for Gary, Avocato had heard him. He just didn't know what to say in response. He could feel his face burning and he struggled to hide the smirk that so desperately wanted to appear.

He looked back up at Gary and eyed him for a moment. His red tank top dipped with the way he was hunched over, exposing some of his chest. He had an intense look on his face as he started dealing cards. Gary looked up and they made eye contact. Avocato smirked and winked at him. Gary looked back down towards the game, his face cherry red. Avocato laughed slightly as they started the next game.

They continued playing another 3 rounds before Avocato stretched out his arms, showing his defined figure through his black undershirt. His back popped and he groaned.

Gary turned away.

"This has been fun but I'm getting a little tired, aren't you?" Gary nodded slightly. They gathered the rest of the cards and sat them on the nightstand. Avocato moved to stand and Gary grabbed his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

Avocato looked at him quizzically and gestured towards the door. "To my room?"

Gary rolled his eyes and pulled him down onto the bed. Avocato landed beside Gary on the small mattress. It was a tight squeeze, they both laid on their sides facing each other, and there was little room between them. Avocato could feel Gary's breath against his cheeks. In the dimmed room, Gary's eyes seemed to sparkle and Avocato couldn't look away.

"It's a sleepover yo, that usually means you sleep over." Gary annunciated the "sleep over" to get his point across with a shy smile on his face.

"I don't know man, I don't think I'll be able to sleep with you snoring next to me." Avocato looked away with a smirk on his face.

Gary flushed and narrowed his eyes. "I do not snore!" He shoved Avocato's shoulder lightly.

"How would you know?"

Gary glared and ignored him. He then sat up and grabbed the blankets that were by their feet. He pulled the blanket up and threw it over the two of them. Gary laid back down, using his arm as a pillow.

Avocato copied him, except his other hand was placed close to his face.

"How are you doing?"

Avocato closed his eyes and let himself sink into the bed. "What do you mean?"

Gary paused. "With everything."

Avocato shrugged. "I'm getting used to it."

"Well I'm here. If you need to talk."

Avocato smiled, eyes still closed. "You're a good friend Gary."

Gary smiled at the familiar saying. "I would've gone with great." He reached up and held Avocato's hand in his own. "But good works too." He closed his eyes with a small smile on his face.

Avocato sighed at the comforting weight on his hand. He squeezed Gary's hand tenderly. Gary expected to feel that same jolt he gets when people touch him. He expected to feel itchy from being so close to Avocato.

But he felt content. He's never felt this way in someone's embrace before. He felt entirely comforted and safe in Avocato's strong grip.

Sleep came easy after that.