#CHS: guidelines

[hornystorage]

Some tags for better organization

I'm going through all the posts I can in the blog, tagging them so as to find them easier. To help with that, I'm also writing the tags here, what do they mean, and using them to tag this pinned post. To see any of the tags, just tap/click on it (on the tags section under the post).

The tags are not mutually exclusive. A post can (and will probably) have more than one tag.

(All the tags begin with CHS: meaning Curio's Horny Storage:)

CHS: picture Given to posts where the focus is the picture, rather than anything else that may or may not be written.

CHS: drawn This one is for drawing and paintings and that kind of art.

CHS: audio Posts where the main focus is the audio. My favourite kind of post.

CHS: written The biggest group of posts. They mostly have pictures, but the main point of them is what's written: captions and stories are tagged this.

CHS: caption The kind of written content added to an existing picture. Sometimes is hard to tell what's a story and what's a caption, so I went with my gut instinct.

CHS: story The kind of written content that doesn't necessarily have a picture attached. Sometimes is hard to tell what's a story and what's a caption, so I went with my gut instinct.

CHS: concepts Little ideas for stories and fictional products.

CHS: guidelines Guides, tutorials, and tips. From the classic "become a bedwetter" guides to how to fluff up a diaper.

CHS: games and challenges Some fun little activities to have some diapered (or not) fun.

CHS: diaper peak For those pictures where a bit (or a lot) of diaper peaks out of a buy's pants ;P

CHS: wet spot For the pictures where the focus is the big, wet patch on a guy's crotch.

CHS: wetting There are some videos and gifs where you can see the wetting happening, instead of a still of before or after.

CHS: humping Used for diapered boys humping their wet diapers in pictures and gifs.

CHS: chastity Sometimes explicitly included, sometimes just alluded to, so I tag it because I enjoy it.

CHS: magic wand Used for those posts that have those magic wand vibrators. I hear they feel very good on a wet diaper...

CHS: less kinky Some less kinky pictures that I just find hot.

CHS: bulge A tag for the hot bulges and packages of men (non-diaper bulges).

CHS: bedwetting A main kink for this blogger, so I tag the pics and stories that focus on the subject.

CHS: POV For the posts that put you on a POV (Point Of View). Also a favourite of mine.

CHS: furry Posts that have furries. Sometimes in diapers, sometimes just big and hot.

CHS: hypno Images that depict someone getting hypnotized, usually drawings.

CHS: rubberpupthoughts rubberpupthoughts wrote some very good stories and captions, but all his stuff seems to have disappeared from the internet. I'm reposting the few ones I have saved, and if you have some others, I'd be grateful if you could share them.

CHS: Mark and Luke A nice little story, contained in a single post.

CHS: the briefs saga Two captions that may not actually be related, but share a similar subject.

CHS: Diapers for my Boyfriend A story in 11 parts, of which I’m missing the first 3 parts.

CHS: Heath A four-parts story about a guy named Heath and how he ends in diapers. Sadly, I am missing the first part.

CHS: Josh and Mikey A series of captions with the recurring characters Mikey (who's becoming incontinent) and Josh (who's making it happen).

CHS: Tim and Joe A seemingly 4-parts story, of which I only have the last two parts. Gotta find the other two.

CHS: Tricked and Treated A two-part story involving lots of humiliation about a boy and his daddy on halloween (and after).

CHS: Remote Work Bullying A two-parter about a guy with an online dom working from home. Padded, of course.

CHS: Billy and Timmy's Rough Days One (technically two) of the more rough stories in the blog. While usually not my style, I find it particularly hot. (unofficial title, as I didn't see any in the posts themselves, which are form different people).

CHS: a favourite Some personal favourites of mine.

CHS: to find As blogs come and go, some stories that require access to deactivated blogs cannot be read anymore. I'd like to complete them where possible, so any clues as to where to find a complete version for archiving purposes are welcome.

CHS: tags Other blogs have their own tags. I reblog them so as to have easy access to the posts I like. Recommended to check out.

[rollercoasterwords]

in other news. wfrau has hit 100k words in my word doc...let's all clap & cheer together....

[smellophone]

It’s really late time to post style studies…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Speech & Language

Milestones Related to Speech and Language

Birth to 5 months

Coos

Vocalizes pleasure and displeasure sounds differently (laughs, giggles, cries, or fusses)

Makes noise when talked to

6 to 11 months

Understands "no-no"

Babbles (says "ba-ba-ba")

Says "ma-ma" or "da-da" without meaning

Tries to communicate by actions or gestures

Tries to repeat your sounds

Says first word

2 to 17 months

Answers simple questions nonverbally

Says 2-3 words to label a person/object (pronunciation may not be clear)

Tries to imitate simple words

Vocabulary of 4-6 words

18 to 23 months

Vocabulary of 50 words, pronunciation is often unclear

Asks for common foods by name

Makes animal sounds ("moo")

Starting to combine words ("more milk")

Begins to use pronouns ("mine")

Uses 2-word phrases

2 to 3 years

Knows some spatial concepts ("in" or "on")

Knows pronouns ("you," "me" or "her")

Knows descriptive words ("big" or "happy")

Uses 3-word sentences

Speech becomes more accurate, but may still leave off-ending sounds. Strangers may not understand much of what is said.

Answers simple questions

Begins to use more pronouns ("you" or "I")

Uses question inflection to ask for something ("my ball?")

Begins to use plurals ("shoes" or "socks"; regular past tense verbs, "jumped")

3 to 4 years

Groups objects, such as foods or clothes

Identifies colors

Uses most speech sounds, but may distort some of the more difficult sounds, such as l, r, s, sh, ch, y, v, z, th. These sounds may not be fully mastered until age 7 or 8.

Uses consonants in the beginning, middle, and ends of words.

Some of the more difficult consonants may be distorted, but attempts to say them

Strangers are able to understand much of what is said

Able to describe the use of objects ("fork" or "car")

Has fun with language; enjoys poems and recognizes language absurdities ("Is that an elephant on your head?")

Expresses ideas and feelings rather than just talking about the world around him or her

Uses verbs that end in "ing" ("walking" or "talking")

Answers simple questions ("What do you do when you are hungry?")

Repeats sentences

4 to 5 years

Understands spatial concepts ("behind" or "next to")

Understands complex questions

Speech is understandable, but makes mistakes pronouncing long, difficult, or complex words ("hippopotamus")

Uses some irregular past tense verbs ("ran" or "fell")

Describes how to do things (e.g., painting a picture)

Lists items that belong in a category (e.g., animals or vehicles)

Answers "why" questions

5 years

Understands time sequences (e.g., what happened first, second...)

Carries out a series of 3 directions

Understands rhyming

Engages in conversation

Sentences can be 8 or more words in length

Uses compound and complex sentences

Describes objects

Uses imagination to create stories

NOTE

The ability to hear is essential for proper speech and language development.

Hearing problems may be suspected in children who are not responding to sounds or who are not developing their language skills appropriately.

The above are some age-related guidelines that may help to decide if your child is experiencing hearing problems.

It's important to remember that not every child is the same.

Children reach milestones at different ages.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ On Children ⚜ Hearing ⚜ Children's Dialogue

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?"

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though.

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

m.list | next >>

ch. i - gramps

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

tw : mentions of blood, flashback of a dark past, mentions of death, mentions of loss, Jongho experiencing mental trauma, nightmare, Jongho reliving his past like ptsd-ish (not defined)

wc : 0.9 k

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

It was the moon.

Of all the things that happened, Jongho remembered the moon very clearly that night; shining oh so brightly, acting like a spotlight as if putting the scene that had just happen like it was on a stage, a mocking display of the events that had just transpired.

The image of the woman he had once courted dying in his arms was fresh as if it had just happened the day before. The sight of her eyes fluttering close while the cold night wind caressed his face, mockingly wiping his tears as he mourned the woman who lay lifeless in his arms. As he wailed, there was a clench in his chest. At first, Jongho had thought that it was merely his heart breaking for his lost love but soon he struggled to breathe and before he knew it, chaos ensued with him in the center but even amongst that, he could see the face that would be the catalyst of his entire world changing.

As abruptly as the dream came, Jongho was pulled back to reality where he jolted up as if he had just splashed by ice cold water but in fact, it was just him in his room. Though he was sitting on his bed, it felt like his chest was being crushed by a slab of concrete weighing a ton. It was hard to calm down when it felt like he was being choked or suffocated. The worst part is, it wasn't just due to the lack of oxygen. It was also the fact that the nightmare always seemed to follow him even after decades had passed and it was always fresh in his mind. And it's not just the fact that it was a nightmare, it was also a memory of something that really happened to him, probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him, replaying in his mind like a brain-investing toothpaste commercial with a catchy jingle.

The cherry on top was the fact that Jongho had to live a torturous life, being given a task that is near-impossible to complete by a self-righteous man who was doing harm but refused to believe the fact so he punished Jongho for doing his job. Being a police was always Jongho's dream so being punished for that was a rather big slap to Jongho's face but at least he wasn't turned into a vampire. What a cliche would that be.

In the midst of Jongho trying to calm down (or at least regain the remaining semblance of his sanity), the sound of his phone notification ringing pierced through the silence and almost made Jongho jump in surprise.

Jongho turned his head to his nightstand to see the clock showing 2:09 which immediately made him scoff. "I swear, if it's one of the guys..." he grumbled but he still reached for his phone. Once the screen turned on, it showed that there was a new notification from you, reminding him of the things that he had specifically request to highlight so he could work on them effectively the next day.

'Couldn't you have reminded me this in the morning? Are you aware of the time???'

He texted back and almost immediately, he saw three dots popping up, showing that you were in the middle of texting him back.

'Well I thought you would be asleep :p'

'And why are you not asleep?'

'Don't you have a bedtime?'

Seeing your reply made Jongho roll his eyes annoyedly.

'I don't have a bedtime. I do have a timely guideline as to when I should rest.'

But of course, you had an answer for him.

'Yeah, that's the same thing, gramps :pppp'

Sighing, Jongho willed himself to shut down the conversation.

'Go to sleep (y/n), I need all the strength I can muster to handle whatever it is that may come tomorrow.'

Your reply almost made a smirk crack on Jongho's face.

'Oh please, you're acting as if I won't be there helping you tomorrow.'

'As much as you don't like my presence, you need my assistance and you can't deny that your life has been easier since I helped you.'

'So boo hoo.'

Exasperated, Jongho simply told you to sleep once again before he turned his screen off and annoyedly put his phone back on the nightstand with its screen facing down so that should you text him again, he wouldn't see it.

Although Jongho had already been aware and alert and was in the middle of calming down, your text reminded him of not only his responsibilities both professional and personal but also of the fact that times have changed so much was just annoying. Even as he was falling back asleep, he kept thinking about chastising you the next day so that you wouldn't text him in the middle of the night like that. Who knows? Maybe this time you would listen to him without hurtling a jab about how he was ancient and that he befriends creatures that should be classified as relics. For whatever reason there may be, Jongho still employed you even if he found your jabs and jokes petulant and not funny (Wooyoung and San thought otherwise but their vote for your jabs did not inspire confidence in Jongho). So that night Jongho fell asleep annoyed of the events that transpired but also the events that will transpire, completely missing the feeling of relief of your presence even if it was just momentarily.

network :

@cultofdionysus @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@dinossaurz @redzie02 @stayatinykatsy @tinyelfperson @allisonleannn @yukichan67 @phenomenalgirl9 @dawn-iscozy @aestheticsluut @krustycangrejo @teenyfinds @gxlden-bxbyy

@roronoas-wife

[minminyoonjii]

Midas's Touch [Seungchan/Fem! Reader]

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

💙Series Masterlist

🕯Summary: Spilling your thoughts to your boyfriend has never wronged you before until said boyfriend decided to embarrass your freaky ass.

🌹CW

Free Use|Multiple Orgasms|Voyeurism|Threesome! MMF|Degrading Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Recording Camera|Hard Dom! Bang Chan|Soft Dom! Kim Seungmin|Pervy! Reader|Fingering|Vibrator Wand|Blow Job|Oral Sex|Obedience Kink|Daddy Kink|Begging|Puppy Kink|Teasing|Exhibitionist|Head Pets|Deep Throat|Cum Swallowing|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.4K

'Fuck, look at him just sitting there, ' you thought, sipping your iced coffee while you stared. Seungmin shifted on the sofa, spreading his legs apart to get comfortable. Chan blew in your ear, "Boo," he whispered, smirking at the way you jolted. "What are you staring at?" he asked, placing his head next to yours and staring. You gulped, rubbing your thighs together, "He looks so fucking good and he isn't even trying," you whispered, hiding your face behind the cup. 

Chan chuckled, rubbing your thigh, "Tell me, princess. What do you have in mind?" he asked, encouraging you to spill everything. You pulled your gaze away from Seungmin, "I want to know if he'll tug my hair or pet it when I suck him off. I want to know if he'll pound my stupid cunt into oblivion or if he'll worship it like it's fragile. Channie I'm losing my mind," you rambled, burrowing your face into his abs. 

Chan cocked an eyebrow, "Did you hear that, Minnie?" he asked, smirking at the flustered expression on Seungmin's face. Your breath hitched, and your body froze, "Chan please tell me he's not there," you whispered, embarrassment coursing through your body. Chan chuckled, "Go on, Minnie. Tell her yourself," he said, eyeing Seungmin's growing bulge. "I'm here," Seungmin whispered, awkwardly raising his hand. You let out a silent scream, hitting Chan's torso. 

"Whoa, whoa there, princess," Chan chuckled, petting your head. Seungmin looked down, fidgeting with his fingers. You took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Min," you said, hesitantly lifting your head to face him. Seungmin rubbed the back of his nape, "I wasn't uncomfortable, just very surprised," he reassured, giving you his gentle smile. Your lips wobbled, silently gesturing for Chan to help you start the scene. Chan cooed, stroking your cheek, "Seungmin-ah?" He smirked, facing him. 

Seungmin gulped, "Yeah, Hyung?" he asked, not sure what to expect. Chan chuckled, "Would you like to have a go with her? You could do anything, bub," he said, tucking your hair behind your ears. The blood burned under Seungmin's skin, "What?" he asked, his eyes widening at the suggestion. Chan stroked your hair, "You heard what I said, Minnie. She can please you however you want," he said, gripping your jaw to face Seungmin. 

You whimpered at the action and stared at Seungmin with the biggest pity eyes you could've made. Seungmin felt a shiver run down his spine, "Hyung, bring her to the couch, please," he said, his voice breathy. Chan nodded and easily maneuvered you onto your knees. You placed your chin on his knee, waiting for him to answer your previous 'What ifs'. Seungmin shook his head, setting himself into a more controlling headspace, "You can be a good pet for me, can't you pup?" he asked, stroking your hair. 

You nodded, nuzzling his thigh, "Can be good. I promise," you said, melting under his firm touch. Seungmin cooed, cupping your face in his hands, the size difference between his palm and your face made your head spin, "Do you mind me using your mouth as a fleshlight, pup? You can just relax and let me use your pretty little hole, yeah?" he said, rubbing your bottom lip. You instantly slacked your jaw, flattening your tongue while you stared up at him. 

Seungmin smiled, "Such an obedient pet. Channie Hyung must have trained you perfectly," he said, his tone getting more and more condensing. You nodded, patiently waiting for his next move. Seungmin tugged down his waistband, hissing at the chill air enveloping his throbbing cock. You moaned at the sight, subtly whimpering for Seungmin to start. "Aww, you're so sweet," Seungmin said, brushing your hair back and holding your hair in a ponytail. 

He used his free hand to stroke his leaking cock, "The way your eyes just dilate at the sight of my cock puppy is making me so hard, " Seungmin groaned, tapping his cockhead on your tongue. You moaned, your eyes getting droopy at the taste of his precum on your tastebuds. Chan tied your hair up and pinned your fringes, "There all neat and pretty," he said, booping your nose. Seungmin chuckled, aligning his cock with your mouth, "Breathe with your nose, pup. You can tap me three times on the thigh if you need to catch your breath, okay?" He said, making sure you understand before thrusting his cock down your throat in one single thrust. 

You gagged at the intrusion, your throat fluttering around his cockhead. Seungmin groaned, chuckling at the sight of your tears, "Good puppy, " he grits, pushing his cock down further until an audible 'pop' could be heard. “Mhm,” you hummed, your nails digging into his thighs as he used your mouth. Seungmin grunted, bucking his hips until you swallowed around his girth, "Fuck, yeah, good fucking pet," he growled, thrusting into your throat. 

You whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks at the constant thrusts but your mind felt so cloudy that you couldn't help but stay pliant. Seungmin cooed, wiping your tears, "Aww, sweet thing. You're going so good for me. Taking my cock so well," he growled, thrusting at a comfortable rhythm. You slacked your jaw, letting him use your throat like a personal sleeve. Seungmin hissed, gripping your hair when he came, "Hah, oh, yeah, hah," he moaned, cumming down your esophagus. 

Chan pushed back Seungmin's sweat-matted hair, "Isn't she perfect," he hummed, kissing Seungmin's cheek. "Very fucking perfect," Seungmin said, his voice husky as he eased his cock from your mouth. You stared up at him with a dopey smile, "More, please," you whispered, your voice failing to project after being abused. Seungmin cooed, lifting you on his lap, "Hyung do you use vibrators?" He asked, scratching your scalp. Chan nodded, handing Seungmin a wand, "Do you want me to get your camera? I have a feeling you'd want to film it," he asked, already holding the camera behind his back. 

Just as the members know him, he also knows the members well. Seungmin gulped, rubbing your ear, "Would you mind that pup? Can I film your pretty cunt?" He asked, seeking your consent. You nodded, "I don't mind, Minnie," you said, nipping his palm. Seungmin chuckled, taking the camera from Chan's grasp, "Then lay down for me, puppy," he said, helping you lay back on the couch with your knees pressed to your tummy. 

He turned on his camera, "I just want a shot of your pretty cunt getting creamy," Seungmin said, turning on the vibrator. Chan handed you a pillow to hold on to, knowing that you love holding onto something. Seungmin spread apart your folds with his fingers and pressed the wand to your clit. Your body shuddered from the initial buzz, soft moans and gasps escaping past your lips. Seungmin rubbed his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick before easing two of them into your fluttering ribbed walls. 

"Ah, hah, hah," you moaned, bucking your hips into his thrusts. Seungmin chuckled, "Such a desperate little puppy," he said, curling his finger against that familiar squishy part while he held the vibrator closer to your swollen clit. You whined, body trembling from the pleasure, "Please, please please," you begged, squeezing the pillow tight, digging your nails into the fabric. Seungmin huffed, pumping his fingers at a relentless pace, "Cum for me, pup. Make a mess for us," he grunted. 

You hiccuped a sob, cumming around his fingers. Your ribbed walls clenched so hard Seungmin thought his fingers might break. He pulled away the wand and eased his fingers out, hoping that the camera filmed your creamy quivering cunt. You peeked from behind the pillow, "I did good?" You asked, feeling a deep sense of insecurity pool in your abdomen. Seungmin smiled, kissing your temple, "You did so good, puppy. I almost came in my pants from you cumming, pet," he reassured, stroking your hair. 

You beamed at the praise, pride blooming your chest. Chan chuckled, rewatching the footage, "Seungmin-ah, compress this digitally and send it to me. I need a copy," he said, handing the camera to Seungmin. You squirmed, shy after your orgasmic high. "Aww, look at that little blush," Seungmin said, bopping your nose. You whined, hiding your face back under the pillow. Chan rolled his eyes, amused by your actions, "Come here, little girl," he growled, swooping you up in his arms.  You giggled, wiggling his arms, "Minnie, save me," you squeaked, making grabby hands towards him. Seungmin chuckled, "Of course, I’ll save you puppy…with tickles!" he exclaimed, tickling you.

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

SUBMIT THROUGH THE FORM IN THIS POST, NOT MY ASKBOX, FOR YOUR BLORBO'S SAKE. I WILL LOSE SUBMISSIONS IF THEY AREN'T ALL IN ONE PLACE!

Hi! I've never run a poll blog before, but I like the "do you know this character" type blogs and I searched and didn't find one for ADHD characters so I decided I'd make one!

Submission Guidelines

Both canon and non-canon ADHD characters are allowed, but YOU MUST PROVIDE EVIDENCE FOR NON-CANON ADHD CHARACTERS! I completely understand just looking at a character and going "oh they have the Vibes" but it's not enough to be posted on this blog. Even just "they exhibit a lot of impulsiveness and distractability" is enough for me to go on - just give me SOMETHING to work with. However I reserve the right to not post a character if I don't think the evidence is compelling enough, i.e., if you don't list any traits that are specific to ADHD.

You may not submit real people, only fictional characters. I find it disrespectful and uncomfortable to speculate on the mental health of real people, and will not be posting those for my own comfort, even if those people will likely never see it. Also, the point of this is characters, not real people, so even people who have said they're ADHD won't be posted.

YOU MUST SUBMIT THROUGH THE FORM, NOT MY ASKBOX. I am, of course, ADHD myself, and I need all the submissions in one place or I'll lose them.

Got it? Here's the link to the form.

About the Mod/Blog

You can call me Mudkip if you'd like, or my name, Réka. She/her only please, do not use any other pronouns for me including they/them. I am an adult. I was diagnosed with ADHD at a very young age and have it bad enough that I consider myself disabled. So ADHD rep is very important to me! And I'd like to both learn about ADHD rep I might not have heard of, and spread awareness of what ADHD people are like through the characters that people might not even realize are like us.

My icon is the character 707/Seven from Mystic Messenger, I chose him because although it's a bit hidden he is canonically ADHD! There's a call where he talks about how he talks to himself, and if you say "I heard people with adhd talk to themselves a lot..." he agrees with you, as well as displaying other ADHD traits through the whole game.

...is this entire blog partially part of my agenda to spread the word of canon ADHD Seven? Maybe.

Header is Zack Fair from Final Fantasy VII; he's not canonically ADHD but there's strong evidence for it and I couldn't resist using the "Me? Gongaga." meme.

I often can't resist making non-poll posts on this blog, although I swear I try. If you're just here for the polls you might want to filter the tag "not a poll"!

My main is @hungarianmudkip69 .

Tagging System, for your searching or filtering convenience

#poll - the polls. this only includes "do you know this character" polls, not any other polls I might do.

#not a poll - anything that doesn't get the above tag. Including other types of polls. You know what I mean.

#canon adhd character - polls for characters that are canonically ADHD.

#noncanon adhd character - polls for characters that aren't canonically ADHD, but have solid evidence behind the headcanon.

#poll results - a reblog of an ended poll with calculations of how many people know the character and what percentage of those people know/see the character as ADHD.

#poll reblog - any reblog of a poll that isn't poll results.

#other polls - polls from other blogs.

#blog management - anything about the running of the blog.

#ask - asks. I don't know what else to tell you.

#approval inquiry - asks asking if a character has been approved for posting.

#submission inquiry - asks asking if a character has been submitted.

this was part of the original pinned and I always like seeing this part of poll blog pinneds so I'm leaving it

I'm supposed to tag other polls for visibility, right? This was largely inspired by @who-do-i-know-this-man and @doyouknowthisdisabledcharacter as well as @do-you-know-this-queer-character !

If you want to know if someone's been posted, check below:

Polls in progress:

707/Saeyoung Choi from Mystic Messenger (canon)

Kyle Klimson from The InBESTigators (noncanon)

SpongeBob SquarePants from SpongeBob SquarePants (noncanon)

Sherlock Holmes from the original Sherlock Holmes stories (noncanon)

Evan "Buck" Buckley, from 9-1-1 (canon)

Meg Murry, from A Wrinkle in Time (noncanon)

Bokuto Koutarou, from Haikyuu!! (noncanon)

Finished polls (under the cut):

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff from the X-Men movies (noncanon)

Rumpleteazer from Cats the Musical (noncanon)

Bobby Drake/Iceman from DC Comics (noncanon)

Karlach Cliffgate from Baldur's Gate 3 (noncanon)

Evelyn Wang from Everything Everywhere All at Once (canon)

Osana Najimi from Komi Can't Communicate (noncanon)

Barbara Gordon/Batgirl/Oracle from DC Comics (noncanon)

Sora from Kingdom Hearts (noncanon)

Dr. Coomer from Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware/HLVRAI (noncanon)

Johnny Gat from Saints Row (noncanon)

Bart Allen/Impulse from DC Comics (noncanon)

Michael Tate from Greater Boston (canon)

Uraraka Ochako from My Hero Academia (noncanon)

Etcetera from Cats the Musical (noncanon)

Richie Tozier from IT (noncanon)

Gary Smith from Bully/Canis Canem Edit (canon)

Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation (noncanon)

Leonardo from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (noncanon)

Mungojerrie from Cats the Musical (noncanon)

Achilles from the Iliad (noncanon)

Tajima Yuuichirou from Ookiku Furikabutte/Oofuri/Big Windup (noncanon)

Benrey from Half Life VR but the AI is Self Aware/HLVRAI (noncanon)

Crowven Corvuson from Cemetery Mary (canon)

Martlet from Undertale Yellow (noncanon)

Zell Dincht from Final Fantasy 8 (noncanon)

Skimbleshanks from Cats the Musical (noncanon)

Goku from Dragonball (noncanon)

Yuma Tsukumo from Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal (noncanon)

Moritz Stiefel from Spring Awakening (noncanon)

Sydney 'Syd' Novak from I Am Not Okay With This (noncanon)

Yuki Takeya from Gakkou Gurashi/School-Live! (noncanon)

Annabeth Chase from the Percy Jackson series (canon)

Maria von Trapp from The Sound of Music (noncanon)

Lift from The Stormlight Archive (noncanon)

Tim Drake from DC Comics (noncanon)

Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece (noncanon)

Apollo Justice from the Ace Attorney games (noncanon)

Stella from Winx Club (noncanon)

Roy Harper from DC Comics (canon)

Michelangelo from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (canon)

Tony Stark from the Marvel Cinematic Universe (noncanon)

Aiden Clark from School Bus Graveyard (canon)

Serpaz Helilo from Vast Error (canon)

The Doctor from Doctor Who (noncanon)

Ronan Lynch from The Raven Cycle (noncanon)

Leo Valdez from the Percy Jackson books (canon)

Moth Flight from Warrior Cats (canon)

Ramona Quimby from the Ramona books (noncanon)

Joey Pigza from the Joey Pigza books (canon)

Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables (noncanon)

Spinner Mason from Degrassi: The Next Generation (canon)

Lupin III from Lupin the Third (noncanon)

Rainbow Dash from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (noncanon)

George Beard and Harold Hutchins from Captain Underpants (canon)

Alex Woodroe from All the Feels (canon)

Agent Curt Mega from Spies are Forever (noncanon)

TG from Castle of Nations (canon)

Shawn Spencer from Psych (canon)

Sydney Scoville Jr. from Grrl Power (canon)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng from Miraculous Ladybug (noncanon)

Zagreus from Hades (noncanon)

Sherlock Holmes from Sherlock & Co. (canon)

Ash Ketchum from Pokémon (noncanon)

Misfire from Transformers (canon)

Herlock Sholmes from The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (noncanon)

Christine Canigula from Be More Chill (canon)

Aubrey Little from The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (canon)

Lt. Columbo from Columbo (noncanon)

Billie from Billie Bust Up (canon)

Wei Wuxian from Mo Dao Zu Shi (noncanon)

Jimmy Casket from VenturianTale (noncanon)

Sara Eriksson from Young Royals (canon)

Magnus Burnsides from The Adventure Zone: Balance (noncanon)

Scout from Team Fortress 2 (noncanon)

Luz Noceda from The Owl House (canon)

Zack Fair from Final Fantasy VII (noncanon)

Percy Jackson from Percy Jackson and the Olympians (canon)

April Polls' Day posts, for posterity - ran polls on non-ADHD characters:

Twilight Sparkle from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

Zenos yae Galvus from Final Fantasy XIV

P.I.X.A.L. from Lego Ninjago

Brutus the Ducky from Real Life and also Rubber Ducky Hell (our only canonically non-ADHD poll subject)

Sophia from Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin (please play it)

[5-puthyyy]

masterlist : agatha x rio / agathario x reader

⟹ read guidelines

✔ = complete

✖ = ongoing

☀ = fluff

☁ = angst

☂ = smut

★ = recommended

ｓｅｒｉｅｓ

the apprentice -- agathario x reader ✖

 ch.1 ⤐ ch.2 ⤐ ch.3 ⤐ ch.4 ⤐ ch.5 ⤐ ch.6 ⤐ ch.7 ⤐ ch.8

summary: life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. they take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for... ☂ ★ ☁ ☀

ｏｎｅ－ｓｈｏｔｓ

the magick that binds us -- agatha x rio ☁ ☂

summary: 

“What exactly is your plan now, then?” Agatha asks, taking a different approach hoping to talk her way out of this, “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. Are you just going to stand there, gaping like a fish? Staring at what you can’t have?”

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Agatha tries to set Rio up but really she set herself up for a good old fashioned hate fuc---

you're looking a little green agatha x rio ☂ ☁

summary:

Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”

Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”

The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Rio's drawn to the powerful Magick of the hex and finds Agatha flirting with a powerful witch that isn't her. I cannot be blamed for the filth that follows

river of life -- agatha x rio ☀ ☁ ☂ ★

summary: 

“A gift?” She repeated, stepping forward. The dead witch’s protests were easily ignored now; Death’s only focus was Agatha. Agatha, smiling at her brightly, eyes as bright and wild as her hair.

“A gift. For you,” Agatha revealed, taking her own step forward. Her lips trembled slightly, maybe from the cold or maybe from her nerves, Death does not know. But what she does know is Agatha just killed someone for her.

“Me?” Death breathed out, eyes wide and completely hypnotised by the beautiful gesture done for her.

Agatha attempted to step even closer but realised this was as close as she could get. The tip of her nose was just inches away from Death’s, the proximity immediately causing a shiver to run up her spine. “For you…my love,” she breathed out in confession, eager for Death’s reaction.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Death is a simp and Agatha kills witches to court her.

(So also a simp)

[lostinforestbound]

MASTERLIST

Hi, you may call me Forest (Any pronoun)! I work full-time and I do these for fun! Please keep these facts in mind when sending in an ask, and be patient! I will do my very best to get through all of them as they come!

MDNI! Please keep yourself safe in online spaces!

My Request guidelines are here!

Currently Requests are CLOSED

Purple is NSFW

Help Osama and their family!

Last Updated: 8/16/2024

Headcanons

Rolan and Greying Hair

Rolan and Jealousy

Rolan with a Crying Tav

Tiefling Bachelors Receiving Body Worship

Rolan and Purring

Rolan with Sorcerer!Tav Teaching Him Magic

Zevlor with a Passionate Tav

Gale, Wyll, and Halsin Body Worship

Rolan With a Tav Who's Never Seen a Tiefling

General Lia & Cal

General Lia & Cal Part 2

General Rolan Headcanons

Romantic Rolan Headcanons

NSFW Rolan Headcanons

Romantic Zevlor Headcanons

Cal and Lia Bonding With Tav (By Embarrassing Rolan)

Rolan and The Wizard's Plush

Kissing Rolan

Isekaid to BG3 (Rolan)

Cal and Lia Relationship Headcanons

Rolan With Animals

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor Accidentally/Purposely Stopping Their Crush From Leaving

Sfw/Nsfw headcanons with Cal and a GN!Tiefling

Insecure Rolan with a Human Tav

Giving Gifts to Rolan

Rolan Picking F!Tav Up for the First Time

Cal with a M!Dragonborn

Rolan with an Inexperienced Tav

Gale, Wyll, and Halsin Stopping Their Crush from Leaving

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor Having a Partner with a Praise Kink

Cal and Zevlor with a Human Partner

Rolan Confessing to His Crush

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor Wrapping Their Tails Around Their Non-Tiefling Partners

Rolan Discovering About His Partner's Abusive Family

Rolan Falling For a Married Person

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor with a Partner Who Has a Voice Kink

Rolan and Pyxis (Personal Tav)

Writing Blurbs

Lip Balm (Ask)

Dark!Rolan

Dark!Rolan 2

Dark!Rolan Prequel

Rolan and Healer!Tav in the Aftermath of Lorroakan

The Morning After (Rolan Fluff)

Fics

Look Away for a Minute (Rolan/GN!Tav)

Unlovable (Rolan & Cal & Lia)

Perfection (Rolan/GN!Tav)

You're Not Alone, You Will See (Rolan/M!Tav)

Third Time's the Charm (Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav) [Ch.1] [Ch.2] [Ch.3]

I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine (Rolan/GN!Tav)

Art

Ambition is Taxing (Rolan)

Want to Know my Tav? Meet Pyxis!

Introduction to Time Loop Fic: First Appearance

He's Huge!! Some collected screenshots

He looks sexy here ngl

What is your Tav's largest mental feature?

Commissioned Art (fvngus)

[karkod-art]

Since @lukewarmhomie asked how I made the hood of my raccoon hoodie,

> How to make a crochet hood

Disclaimer: This is not a full tutorial, only guidelines on how to make a crochet hood. It is not meant for beginners.

Disclaimer 2: Sorry it's too math for you, I'm a mathematics undergrad so

1. Measurements

Pick your favorite hoodie! Measure:

Note that A is an approximate measure

2. Main part

R0: Chain until you reach measurement A, let's call X that number of chains. ch 1 (don't make it tight since we'll add stitches here). sc in the back loops of the chain, X in total. You should have 2X+1 stitches: X in each side and one chain in one end.

R1: ch 1, turn, sc X, inc in the ch, sc X.

R2: ch 1, turn, sc on top of every stitch (2X + 2 total)

R3: ch1, turn, sc X, 2 inc, sc X

R4: ch1, turn, sc on top of every stitch (2X + 4 total)

R5: ch1, turn, sc X+1, 2 inc, sc X+1

R6: ch1, turn, sc on top of every stitch (2X + 6 total)

R7-R?: Repeat rows 5 and 6 until you reach measurement B. Note that at every odd row the number of sc goes up by 2 (the numbers in red increase!!), since the hood gets bigger and the increases should be at the middle.

Once you reach measurement B, work an even number of sc rows until you reach measurement C. These measurement are taken with a folded hood so keep that in mind when you measure your progress.

3. Cord

If you already have a cord, skip this part. Otherwise use this (https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4tGB1DOXL7/?igsh=MWprYjhtbGd2bjNrZQ==) tutorial on how to make a crochet cord.

4. Ribbed part

It's worked basically as a cuff ribbing, only that it is later folded and it must have holes to pass the cord. You can adjust the size by modifying the number of chains at the start.

R0: ch 8

R1: ch1, turn, sc blo 8

R2: sl st in the next 2 st, turn, sc blo 8

R3-R?: Repeat rows 1 and 2 until you are done. You'll have to leave two holes for the cord, I've done them in the fifth row (counting from the beginning and from end, so you'll have to predict what is going to be your 5-th last row or like me undo it after it's done).

First hole round (R5): ch1, turn, sc 5, ch 2, sk 2, sc 1

Second hole round (5-th last):

If you are working from outside to the main part of the hood: ch1, turn, sc 5, ch 2, sk 2, sc 1

If you are working from the main part of the hood to the outside: sl st 2, turn, sc 1, ch 2, sk 2, sc 5

5. Assembly

Pass the cord through the holes (otherwise it's gonna be more complicated later!). Then fold the ribbed part and sew it together:

6. Extra

I added ears to my hood, since it was part of a raccoon hoodie ^^

To join the hood, I did sc in the bottom of the hood the same number of stitches that the body panels had in the neck, and then simply used slip stitches to join them.

Hope you found this tutorial helpful!!

[rollercoasterwords]

how long do you think it will take to complete as the worm moon dies? do you have a timetable or are you going with the flow

i am just...going with the flow <3

right now i am working on finishing up ch 7 which has taken me. quite some time bc i changed my mind like 6 times about what direction i wanted 2 take it BUT. think i am finally getting there...

i am hoping to get into a bit more of a consistent writing schedule of writing ~1 ch/week since i am posting 1 ch/week, but i am not worrying too much about holding myself to that bc i'm just having fun :) the fic itself will probably be somewhere between 15-20 chs so it'll probably take me. like. at the very least another 3 months to write, and in all likelihood probably longer--could be six months, could be a year....who knows!! if i had to set a goal i'd say i want to complete it before the end of 2023, so we'll see if that happens!

since i've got the first 6 chs written you will be getting consistent weekly updates for at least the next 3 weeks lol, but after i post ch 6 i might take a break for like 2-3 weeks before posting ch 7 both to give myself some more breathing room + bc ch 6 is roughly equivalent to 5 chs in one so. it's a lot anyway lol

[blackbutlerfanweek]

Black Butler Week 2024

This week (July 19 - 25) is to commemorate and connect with our love for the Black Butler series and its fans! Each day will have an associated prompt for creators to base their work off of! BB Week will be hosted across multiple platforms! Works may contain spoilers so keep this in mind when perusing both the tag and the blog.

Twitter | Discord | Carrd

You are free to use these prompts and the #blackbutlerweek tag however you like but for your works to appear on our blog you must follow these guidelines.

GUIDELINES:

Any medium is allowed. Fanart, Fanfics, AMVs, Edits, Music, Cosplay, etc.

Either @ our account and we will reblog or submit to us via DM or submissions and we will post it ourselves. You must use our layout, it's for organizational purposes and allows people to find your work with ease.

 ANYTHING Ch. 126+ related needs to be tagged with spoilers.

Artistic nudity is allowed on our Tumblr and Twitter platforms only (not in the discord) as long as it’s not of the child-age and/or teenage characters and has the proper content label in accordance to the Tumblr User Guidelines

LAYOUT:

All posts or submissions must be in this layout for us to reblog/submit it. You are free to add any additional caption before or after.

Posts layout: @blackbutlerfanweek, prompt day/theme, and type of piece and characters, and spoiler warning if present.

Submission layout: Your @, prompt day/theme, and type of piece and characters, and spoiler warning if present.

EXAMPLES:

Posts: @BlackButlerWeek / Day 1: Flowers / Fanart of Sebastian and Undertaker / SPOILERS

Submissions: @thisismyuser / Day 3: Food / AMV of Grelle Sutcliff

WILL NOT ACCEPT:

AI-made works

Any NSFW pieces

No works involving ships that include the child-age and teenage characters. This includes but is not limited to: Ciel, Elizabeth, Sieglinde, Finnian, Doll, Layla, Alois, any characters not in the same grade as the P4.

Feel free to ask or DM in advance if we will accept your work!

SUBMISSION PAGE

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.6<< >>Ch.8

Notes: Miguel is letting those barriers drop, ooohh. And the attraction is most certainly there.

CW: Sexual daydreams, Masturbation

Chapter 7: Even if It's For One Night

Word count: 4.1K

Nearly a week passed as you scoped out the door whenever you heard the chimes. 

You two maintained your everyday messaging, as you refrained from distressing him about stopping by, taking in what he told you.

Yet, a part of you still hoped he strolled through that door.

“I appreciate the donations, but not when there are so damn many of them!”

A woman a few years older than you stumbled out with an enormous box on both arms, her wild, wavy hair peeking out from the sides.

“Remind me to never take donations unless cash is involved.”

“A charitable donation is a charitable donation, Ronnie. Rather you like it or not.” You didn't look up from your phone as you giggled at something on the screen.

“Money is also seen as a charitable one! So make it easier for me.”

Ronnie peered over to her employee, whose head still refused to rise from the device.

“Who are you texting?”

“Take a guess.” You tilted a bit to acknowledge her.

“Ah yes. Him.” She teasingly piped.

Ronnie plopped the cardboard box of fabrics and other accessories on the counter.

“When will you tell me more about him?!”

“What is there more to say that I haven't already said, Ronnie?” You sighed and began to scoop out the cute clothes.

Rompers seem to be back in style.

“Uh, besides the name and that he's a ‘great guy,’ not much is being fed to me. I need the buffet, the nine-course meal.”

You gave her an impassive face. Your boss placed a hand on her forehead, dramatically but carefully, flopping her back on the check-out countertop.

“I'm practically starving. You're just letting me fade away. You dangle the sandwich, yet reel it back whenever I'm in reach.” She exaggerated, making sure to enunciate. Every. Single. Word.

“I thought you wanted a full thirty-course meal? Why did it get reduced to a sandwich?”

“Don't change the subject" She stuck her tongue out. “And it was nine, but come on! Just tell me something. You always smile at your phone when you tell me you're texting the guy.”

She threw her arms up in a very animated manner.

“Ronnie, you'll survive.”

The woman grumbled and wrapped her arms around her chest like a pouting child who didn't get their way.

Then her face did a one-eighty.

“As your superior, I command you to tell me.”

“Oh for fuc- Ronnie, that's abuse of power! That's in the work guidelines for beginners.” Your hands slid down your face in pure agony.

“Nuh-uh. Um, um, obstruction of the peace.” Ronnie countered.

“I don't think you're even using that correctly.”

“Obstruction of the peace!” Ronnie's batty grin only disconcerted you more than before.

“Oh my gosh. He's tall, dark, and beautiful. There. Has the appetite been fed?” You began to dump the clothing back into the box, already exhausted from your "leader's” shenanigans.

“Hmm, let me think–no.” Ronnie frivolously perked her elbows up, her balled-up fingers smushing her cheeks. “Not until I see concrete proof. Hard evidence.”

You groaned, plucking the box off the wooden surface. “I swear you are just a handful. If you need me, I'll be in the back sorting clothes.”

“Aw, you're going to do that for me? You are so sweet! But don't think this conversation is over. We are jus-”

Before Ronnie could finish, you zipped off in the opposite direction, yelling that you were ‘too far away to hear the rest.’

You unleashed a lengthy exhale after that agonizing ordeal. You were aware that Ronnie didn't want to organize, so she found a cheeky escape route. And you couldn't criticize her curiosity. 

When the dead workdays pop up, you're usually on your phone texting him. Giggling like a schoolgirl who somehow was able to obtain their crush's number.

He manages to make your knees all jelly, so flimsy. The grasp he has you webbed in is ridiculous. How you're caught up in the bewitching netting. Is it wrong? Is this an inappropriate way to envision someone you're admiring? 

Spinning one into a web is usually viewed as distasteful, deceptive, and abysmal.

Sickening. Revolting.

Yet this web, like most, is silky and luscious. You don't seem to believe you're the prey–far from it. Restrained in the powerful strings is something that beckons you. What you seek.

Awaiting him, trusting him. Knowing that the mesh is used to protect. In a way that serves not only him but you as well. You don't sense any threats. No harm from him to you. You're confident about it. It's as if you fully know. Comprehending it in all of its certainty.

Besides, the only time you'll undoubtedly feel threatened, afraid is if you are bound, dangling exposed for him to take in every part. His claws and fangs grazed, scraping across your delicate skin, leaving tiny scratches all over.

His eyes locked on yours. Mouth gagged as you wouldn't be able to beg, but your body does it for you. His hands will grope every inch... his full lips kissing down so slowly, so hungrily until he reaches right in between your trembling, soaking thi-

You slapped yourself mentally and physically.

“Stop it, you pervert!” You quietly hissed and began to sort through the clothes, struggling to remove all those thoughts from your mind.

Pretending that the tingly sensation isn't sparking in-between said thighs. He shouldn't have this effect on you. But the state he put you in speaks otherwise.

Ronnie was skimming through a stack of books she's been purposely evading for the past week when she heard the hanging chimes near the front entrance jingle.

“Oh goody. A person.” She mumbled in a snarky tone before putting on her half-assed customer service voice.

“Hi there. Welcome to Adequate Antique Aaa–Abs-o-licious!”

Ronnie was fully astonished by the colossal, hunky model of a man standing in her tiny shop.

She continued to stare as Miguel stood there uneasy, his eyes covered, but the expression was undoubtedly frigid. 

Soft rock played on the overhead speaker as the gawking from Ronnie lasted another thirty seconds until Miguel cleared his throat, breaking that unwarranted silence.

“Oh! Right. How may I help you, my good sir? Anything you have particularly in mind? You're also very, very welcome to peruse our many, many trinkets.” Ronnie shoved the books aside. An overly flirtatious grin crossed her lips, her eyebrows bouncing up and down.

“I'm looking for somebody who works here. They should be in today.” Miguel's stoicism refused to leave.

Ronnie's attempted wooing fled as she scrunched her face at him. “Someone who works here–oh. Oh! You're tall, dark, and beautiful!”

Miguel was taken aback by the sudden exclamation.

“Tall, dark, and beauti-”

She interrupted Miguel before he could even question what she could possibly imply by that.

“Yeah! No, I'll go get her for you!”

Miguel was blurred by the woman and the situation as a whole.

“I can go look for her–”

“I have someone up here to see you!”

Miguel slightly flinched as Ronnie shouted and whacked both her hands on the hardwood counter before turning her attention back onto him.

“She'll be up here soon.” Ronnie beamed at the even more exhausted Miguel.

A few seconds passed when a new voice emerged from the side.

“Why bother giving me this beeper if you're never going to use- oh! This is a very pleasant surprise.”

You internally screeched and flipped around. A smile spread across your face as you took a few steps toward him. He was actually here. 

Miguel softened. His body unwinded as he warmly gazed down at you. “I managed to sneak in some free time and wanted to take a peek at the store myself.”

“I'm so glad you stopped by. You okay? They didn't harass you about this, did they?”

Miguel's stomach had those metaphorical butterflies floating endlessly. His own smile forming over your worries.

“Ah, no, not as much.” He had to lie. He didn't want you fretting over him.

“Good. That's good. I'm glad they're easing up on you.”

You didn't mean to come off as nosy. It was a sudden switch for you. A new defensive mode whenever something was visibly agitating or troubling him.

The sensations he brings.

Ronnie darted between the two, seemingly drifting into each other's eyes. Even if Miguel was wearing sunglasses, Ronnie knew what was up. Coughing loudly to break the ogling, you both jumped back as Miguel scratched his head, and you turned your attention to your employer.

“Sooo, are you going to introduce me?”

You puffed some air out, disregarding Ronnie's shit-eating grin.

“Ronnie, this is Miguel. Miguel, this is my boss, Ronnie.”

“Hm, so this is the famous Ronnie I've heard about.”

“Gasp! I'm actually talked about outside of work? I knew you secretly adored me!”

You groaned as the humiliation settled almost instantaneously. Miguel just offered half a smile before dropping it a second later. He honestly didn't know how to react.

“And I prefer infamous!” Ronnie pumped her chest with way too much pride.

“You do know infamous isn't a good thing.”

You tried to clarify, but Ronnie bolted to the next thing.

“And Miguel. My my, aren't you a gorgeous man? Girl, you didn't tell me he also had an inviting, buttery voice.”

Your right eye twitched. Miguel tensed from this encounter.

“Actually, she didn't tell me much about you besides your name and that ‘you're one great guy.’” She indiscreetly winked, as you were ready to slam your head down on the counter. Maybe hard enough for a concussion.

“But I do know how happy she gets whenever she's talking to you. I swear her face lights up with this adorable twinkle when her Migg-”

“Okay, that's enough!” You stumble your body in between Miguel and the timber furniture.

Miguel and Ronnie stared anxiously at your sudden outburst. The music continued to whisk over them for a couple of seconds until you gulped audibly.

“I didn't mean to yell. That shouldn't have come out like that. I'm sorry, Ronnie.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Nah, it's all good. Go ahead and take your break. I'll finish up your tasks. And hey, it was nice meeting you, Miguel. Take care of my girl.”

Miguel blushed before bobbing his head. “Of course. Nice meeting you as well.”

You scampered to grab your things as the two headed out. You called out a goodbye to Ronnie and went to enjoy this time.

You both decided to head on over to an Asian street food restaurant. Thankfully, it was slow, as only three people preoccupied the other tables.

“Have you ever been here before?” You scrolled down the digital menu, figuring out what you wanted.

“No. I don't think I've even ventured this far out of work.” Miguel observed the area, taking note of all the different Asian cultures plastered on the walls. 

“How far is your job from here?”

“It’s about a thirty-five, forty-minute walk.” 

You began calculating the distance from there. “So around two miles? Twenty minutes is equal to a mile, right?”

He nodded. “But I bought it down to ten. I'm sure you can figure out how.”

You blinked until it hit you. “Ah yes, you swung on by.”

Miguel shot you a disappointed glance as you goofily grinned. “Are you sure you aren't secretly a spider person?”

“I don't have that terrifyingly stellar intelligence.” You lightly tapped your noggin. 

Eventually, you two ordered, plunging into that soothing silence. The warmth he cascades upon you has your stomach in knots. You squeeze your legs together, trying to furiously distract your mind from something else. 

Then Miguel took a sip of his water, some dribbling down the side of his mouth. You squeaked as your subconscious pried its way through, wanting those certain thoughts to emerge. 

“I remember you telling me that you have sensitive eyes. Is that why you wear sunglasses even indoors?” You locked those feelings back. 

“Si. That, and I don't think many would find my eyes appealing to gaze into. Why I've been called ‘vampire’ so much. ¡Esa mierda se vuelve tan molesta! ¡No sé por qué sienten la necesidad de bur-”

“Your eyes are appealing to me. They are very breathtaking. Like staring into two dazzling rubies.”

He reclined back in the seat as the compliment caught him completely off guard. He can't remember the last time a flattering remark was made. Maybe as a joke, or when Peter bizarrely proclaimed he has ‘very ravishing red orbs,’ but not genuine praise.

You purse your lips, chastising yourself secretly for even blurting out something like that. 

“I-I'm sorry. I should've been more mindful of what I said.”

He removed his glasses and placed them on the table.

A string snapped.

You glimpsed at the shades, then back at him, before a smile took over. You leaned forward as you both got lost in each other's words. 

The food was steaming hot, emitting heavenly scents of herbs and spices. Mouth-watering, you promptly begin to chow down, humming in satisfaction.

“Always the best to come when no one is barely around.” You declared, stuffed with a mouthful of udon.

“No need to rush. They're able to be precise with the cooking.” He mindfully slurps some of his miso soup and sighs out.

“Mhm!” You gladly agreed, gulping down the tasty noodles.

“Oh! I was meaning to ask. Are they finally used to you taking well-deserved breaks? They must be if you took an afternoon one versus your usual night ones.” You held your bowl of udon up, offering some to him before he politely declined.

“Yeah. I told them I needed to pick up a few pieces for this upcoming project I'm working on, and they were fine with it.” He took a swig of his condensed glass of water. 

Lies. Miguel recollected the events that led up to this spontaneous outing.

He was already seething when an anomaly nearly threatened to disrupt a canon event due to ridiculously cocky rookies who took the situation too carelessly. He doesn't enjoy shelling out verbal lashings. In fact, he can't stand them. But if others refuse to understand the dire conditions they're in, then it's the only means necessary to get the point across. 

And on top of that mess, he still wasn't at the shop. Every time he would pluck up the effort to go, he would repeatedly hinder his opportunities. 

Internal excuses after excuses. If he's not present, disarray will happen. If he's not here, who will scrutinize the multiverse? Who will conduct sweep checks to make sure the technology is in proper working order? There was too much on his plate, and each day he wasn't there, the more his temper was easier to set off. 

But a few hours earlier, something possessed him as he requested Jess and Peter B. to come to his office.

“The other day, I stumbled upon an ample amount of curios I exactly needed for this new project I'm undertaking.” Miguel's back turned as he searched, trying to remember the name of the store. 

“So you need one of us to pick up the par-”

“No! You two will stay here and keep an eye on things.” He hissed as Jess folded her arms over her prominent, protruding belly. 

She decided to let that rude, interrupting outburst slide. For now.

“Miguel, are you okay? You've been seeming more, um, what's the word I'm looking for?”

“More of an ass?” 

Miguel scowled at Jess as she held that unshakable glare whenever he got this way. 

“Uh, no, not necessarily that. More piqued, disgruntled! Yeah, that's it!” Peter patted where the sling for Mayday usually was. 

“Look. I'll be gone for about a couple of hours and then back with the goobers.”

Peter was perfectly fine with that response, but Jess's skeptical eyes and frown practically dug into his skull; however, she opted to take his word with a pinch of salt. 

The accumulated goggles of spider-people ticked Miguel off as the murmurs of their superior, nonchalantly walking out of the lobby, was going to be next the buzzing topic.

Though it didn't matter, as far as he was concerned, getting to you was his main priority. 

“Miguel? You okay?” You rested your hand on his, which would dwarf yours, as concern registered all over your face. 

“What?” He rocked a bit, skimming the area, before his awareness landed on you.

“You seemed lost in thought for a good while. I thought it was because you were enjoying the food so much that I decided to let you be. But it started to scare me when you wouldn't answer after five minutes.”

He peeked at the table that lay nearly empty dishes. Did he become so absent-minded that he managed to finish his entire meal without uttering a single word to you?

And yet, you remained poised, uncomplaining. 

“Here, let's get back to the antique shop. The lunch rush hour is starting to pick up.” You whirled around, minding the influx of hungry customers piling in. 

You paid for his meal and yours as Miguel tried to intervene, but you heavily insisted. In a battle he wasn't winning, he let you be.

Jostling out and heading back, you made small conversation. You were still quite concerned, wondering what was dwelling in his mind. 

“Did you enjoy the meal?” You swayed your arms back and forth in no particular rhythm.

“Yes, it was delicious; the flavors blended well. And I will pay you back for my half.”

“You don't have to! It was my pleasure to-”

“I insist. Tell me the cost, and I will pay you back for it.” He instructed more than asked.

A surge rushed through your veins and directly to your lower region. “I-I will think of something instead.”

“Good gi- good. That's fine, just let me know.” He caught himself before that inappropriate comment slipped. He didn't know what seized his mind to nearly exclaim that. 

You didn't catch it. He thanked the universe, as he would never forgive himself if you did hear that disgusting phrase from him. 

The remainder of the stroll was mute until returning to the shop. Ronnie fanatically welcomed you both back, questioning and teasing about the outing.

“Did you enjoy yourselves? I know I sure would if I were by this godly, glorious man!” 

Reprimanding her, you swiped up Miguel's forearm, leading him away as Ronnie cheekily yelled not to destroy her things.

“Don't get too handsy, if you catch my drift!”

Ultimately overlooking that, you and Miguel browsed the many knickknacks and ornaments encompassing every cranny. Miguel was in awe of the countless artifacts and objects. 

Though it didn't beat the liveliness from you as you described the items, elucidating the sea of stories behind a chunk of the goods.

He got lost in your love for this.

How you're able to enjoy the simplest things in life. How you manage to discover the inner beauty and soul in things, no matter how dented or defaced they appear. How you make it look so easy. Yet, how would you react to the heinous crimes he committed? Would you still find that same beauty and soul in him? No, clearly not. 

He convinced himself otherwise.

Plucking an electronic gizmo from a stand, you brought it up to his face when you noticed him wearily zoning out. There was something draining him, and your instincts to alleviate it kicked in.

“Miguel, do you think this piece will help with the project you're working on?”

He inched his head down to see a gear with a tiny motherboard covering the surface.

A crooked smile tugged from him as fingers curled around the miniscule tool, brushing against your palm. “Yes, this will be fine. Thank you.” 

That electrical touch he gives never fails to give you shivers.

That softness you hold never fails to bring him to his knees. 

“I know how you can pay me back.” You shifted through some bins in search of more gear for him. 

“Oh, and how is that?”

“There's a botanical garden near here, and I pass by it every time but never get the chance to go as I use my off days to rest up.”

“So, like a hangout or a date?” Miguel rummaged in the bins with you.

“Whatever you want it to be.” You grinned, carefully headbutting your head on his bicep.

His breath hitched, cheeks heating, as his stomach began to twist. He shouldn't. He shouldn't. 

“Deal then.”

A string broke.

That joy never wavered from either one. 

“Oh, and by the way.” Miguel pulled himself out of a trance. 

“Hm?”

“Tall, dark, and beautiful?”

“...Ronnie!” You jerked yourself to your feet and began to admonish your guilty leader, as Miguel held in his laughter. 

Saying his farewells with a container stuffed with gadgets that he'll cram somewhere to find uses for them later, a hunger bellowed within. His thoughts were rampant. Never ceasing. Not even the rosy pink and sunset orange skies wouldn't sedate his brain from going back to you. 

A date… no, you are only hanging out. That's it. 

He doesn't imagine the bright smile you'll have as you stroll by an array of flowers. Or how beautiful the hues from them and the sun will bring out your skin tone. Or what adorable outfit you'll choose to wear. Or what you will chat about…

He doesn't think about you lying on the ground, hidden from the public eye, enclosed by Mother Nature's blossoming fluorescence. Your stunning legs folded around his waist, nails dragging down his back as he strenuously thrusts into you when he–

A sudden thunderous clap roared from above, knocking him back to reality. To Miguel, the dark clouds arose to freeze that line of lust. Miguel closed his eyes. You mustn't have them as well. It was only his sick, perverted imagination going in that direction. 

He decided to just dawdle the rest of the way back, even if the rain caught him. He'll deal with the plethora of complaints from Jess later. Right now, he craves that alone time.

Halfway there, Miguel eventually accepted that you would never cross the path he chose. Especially for a man like him. And he wouldn't blame you one bit... 

You grasped your pillow for dear life as a finger plunged deep within your folds.

“Mi-Miguel! Deeper!”

Your faint whimpers were drowned out by the thunder. You leaked on your fresh, crisp sheets. Just as the nightly rain drips, so do you.

“Don't stop; please never stop! Oh Miguel!”

You gasped out his name. It felt so sinful on your tongue, yet flowed out like smooth, red wine.

Adding another finger, your eyes rolled in the back of your skull. The only thing that plagued, no, graced your mind was the thought of his long digits pumping into you.

The more you imagined, the more your pointer and middle fingers slipped in and out in rapid succession. Your velvety, wet walls clenching so nicely.

Could you take him? Will you feel every part? Every throb, every vein? How warm would it be? Cozy? Or burning due to the desires you'll both share?

You whined in sync with the roaring bolt. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't.

But you couldn't stop.

Unbeknownst to you, in the middle of the city, in the middle of it all, a grunt sprang out in his own room, the walls concealing his impurity.

“Yes, just like that. You're such a good girl.”

Miguel lay spread on his mattress as he vigorously pumped up and down. His unrestrained clawed hand moving at speeds that no human will ever be able to keep up with.

Veins coursed all over his girth, no matter which angle one peeked at. He was burning, his length on fire. 

He squeezed, emitting another grunt. Globs of precum ran down as he tugged brutally and madly. He imagined it was you riding him for dear life.

“Montas a papi tan bien, bebita.”

He groaned as rumbles from the sky joined in. His mind crossed you with every jerk.

How tight would you be? Would he be able to force every inch? He would make it work. He wants to mold you just for him, that you can take it all.

Will you spill over as he thrusts into you at a swift pace? Squirting out all over his tongue or cock?

He growled as his imagination ran feral. His palm slapping against his balls, propelling his hips at irregular tempos. He hears the rain violently drumming against his window, overlooking the ones who look up. 

Yet, the only thing he wants to gaze down upon are those pretty lips wrapped around him. Looking up at him.

Looking up with lust and love. Genuine love.

The downpour can cover his wrongs, but it won't matter. His thoughts for you will fall from him.

He could not stop. He knew he could've.

Yet he should have. He knows he shouldn't stop. The flames spread, shining more within the concealed darkness.

[girlactionfigure]

🟢DEAL NON-NEWS - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - IDF demolishes Hezbollah military buildings in south Lebanon - wait, isn’t that a mosque, is a mosque a military building? For Hezbollah, yes. )

❗️MULTIPLE SOURCES REPORTING - MOVEMENT OF IRANIAN MISSILE LAUNCHERS.. “observed in dozens of places in Iran.”  It appears clear that Iran is preparing for another attack.

▪️CORRECTION - Previous video we wrote was in Binyamina, it was in Tira - Israeli Arab town east of Netanya - resulting in 19 injured, 4 moderately.  

▪️PM OFFICE LEAK INVESTIGATION.. ( this is hard to fit in our brief format ) Ch. 13 claims there were (illegal) secret leaks from the PM’s office.  PM’s office demanded to unseal the investigation.  Appears a document was leaked to a foreign news source from a lower level office person.  Opposition trying to blame the PM.  PM’s office trying to say the leaked info was actually an advantage to Israel.  Strange.

⚠️CITY OF ACRE - NO SCHOOL TOMORROW.. The Mayor of Acre, Amichai Ben-Shoulus announced this evening that due to the direct damage sustained by one of the apartments in the city during Shabbat, there will be no classes tomorrow in the city's educational institutions.

.. BUT “SOME HAIFA SCHOOLS” will open tomorrow as usual, even though this violates Home Front guidelines.

🎯IDF announces that it has eliminated Jafar Fa'or, the commander of the missile and rocket array of the "Nasser" unit in Hezbollah (the eastern sector in southern Lebanon).

♦️LEBANON - The IDF estimates that some 2,000 Hezbollah operatives have been killed by troops and in airstrikes during the ongoing ground offensive in southern Lebanon.

♦️SYRIA-LEBANON BORDER.. According to a Syrian report, last night our forces once again bombed the Josia border crossing with Lebanon.  The crossing was already damaged last week, but had partially reopened.

♦️GAZA.. After more than a year, the IDF located a factory for the production of weapons in the center of the Gaza Strip. The fighters located in the factory, lathes, hundreds of parts for the production of rockets, shells, grenades, alongside diving equipment of the Hamas naval commandos.

⭕IDF updates: 10 drones and 130 rockets penetrated Israeli territory since last night.  THE NORTH IS UNDER CONSTANT ATTACK.

⭕HAMAS ROCKETS tonight, Sderot, Ibim, Mefarsim.

▪️TERROR - RAMMING - HIZMA checkpoint.  1 police officer lightly injured.

▪️2 HERO SOLDIERS HAVE FALLEN.. in battle in Gaza, due to another booby trapped building (same as last 4 who fell in Gaza):

Itay Parizat, 20, from Petah Tikva

Yair Hananya, 22, from Mitzpe Netofa.

May their families be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem, and may G-d avenge their blood!

🔸DEAL NON-NEWS..  the mediators are still working with Hamas and exerting pressure on it. There is no final official answer, but it appears that Hamas is not ready to enter into any deal, big or small, without guarantees for a full withdrawal and the end of the war.

[genderqueerdykes]

I’m a short, plus size trans guy. I have a pretty hard time with masc clothing due to it not fitting right or at least not how I wish it did. Fem clothes usually fit how I want them to so I stick with them, plus skirts are fun and surprisingly help with the bottom dysphoria cause there’s no indent of where my dick should be like pants do, so I have 2 questions.

1: is it ok for me as a trans guy to still be upset when misgendered while wearing feminine clothing?

2: any advice on how to find masc clothes that fit properly on a fat and short guy?

hello there, thanks for taking the time to ask this! sorry for the delayed reply, but i hope you've been doing well in the mean time!

it is absolutely okay for you to be upset for being misgendered regardless of what clothing you're wearing; cisgender people get misgendered while wearing their preferred clothing, as well, many butch women get misgendered and called men when they are very much women who prefer to dress, act and look masculine. cisgender men often get misgendered if they choose to wear feminine clothing, or even men's clothing that's too "fruity". if cisgender people can get upset over this, you can too.

i feel like it's 200% impossible to know what a stranger's gender is just by looking at them and that as a society we would truly progress if we stopped assuming the genders of strangers by how they dress and avoid using gendered terms until that person reveals that information, if they so choose.

as for where to find clothing that would fit well, this one can be a bit tricky. i am tall and fat, i'm about 5' 8" and 280 lbs, so i unfortunately haven't much experience in the height department on that end, but i can tell you that wearing men's pants can be a bit tricky if you have wide hips. i have 48" hips and it can make wearing men's pants uncomfortable. if you haven't already, measure your hips (at their fullest point) and your inseam, which is the length from the crotch of your pants to the bottom of the pantleg. men's pants are sized by these two measurements, with the hip width being the first number and the inseam length being the second. my example for myself is that i wear 48x32 men's pants whenever i do buy them.

here's a guide on measuring your inseam:

here's a guide on men's clothing sizes (in both inches and centimeters) and how to measure yourself for different garments:

i will say that in the past i've thrifted most of my clothing. i'd like to be able to get to a place where i can buy myself some new clothes but up until this point most of my clothes have been thrifted. i will say if you live in a smaller area finding good clothing in plus sizes is a nightmare and you have my condolences. however i can suggest looking into men's fashion and seeing what styles you like to get an idea of what kinds of clothes you're looking for. before transitioning into buying clothes from the men's section you can always look to see if there are similar cuts of clothing (like cargo pants, for example) that are sold in the women's section for the sake of finding clothes that fit your proportions a little better at least until it's easier to figure out what size men's clothes fit you

most shirts and tops shouldn't be too much of an issue as they're made to be pretty loose fitting and don't conform to one's figure- if sleeves are too long they can be hemmed or rolled up, tails of shirts can be tucked into pants, etc. be very careful with button-up style shirts, these fit me so weird due to being intersex and i find that a lot of bigger people in general don't fit into them super well. they're not made for our proportions they just size up the shirts made for thin people and don't take into consideration how our bellies, chests and shoulders look.

button up shirts (when buttoned up, lol) can also make one's chest more prominent and create stress on the buttons that draw the eyes to the chest- i never button up these types of shirts and instead wear them open. this is a very masculine look, especially with a men's t-shirt underneath. this was my go-to in my early days of transition.

as for specific stores to look at, this will vary wildly depending on where you are in the world. i would recommend being highly cautious of buying mens' clothing from places online like Amazon, Temu, Wish, etc. that have a lot of China-based sellers, because often times you will see a 2XL+ garment and buy it thinking it will fit only to realize that that is Chinese sizing and therefore much smaller. shopping online for clothes while fat can be very hard, so i urge you to shop in person when possible

anyone have more concrete suggestions for this guy? i'm totally blanking on good suggestions of where to look for clothes.

good luck out there, stay safe, and take care of yourself. i hope you're able to find more clothing that helps you feel like yourself! thanks for stopping by