#Can you tell I studied Classics?
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child-of-peace · 2 years ago
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Hey, so I’m aware that non-verbal autistic people don’t want semi-verbal autistic people to use “non-verbal” for when we can’t speak or “lose speech”, so why don’t we just come up with our own word?
My proposals:
Sinevocal (sin-eh-vocal, Latin for without voice) or Aneuphonic (ann-you-phonic, Ancient Greek for without voice/speech - though this one may be too similar to aphonic which is a completely different thing, though I think they’re dissimilar enough?)
(I’m personally a fan of aneuphonic!)
In a sentence:
I went sinevocal yesterday after a bad shutdown.
Oh, I sometimes go aneuphonic when I’m overwhelmed.
It’s essentially like saying I went without a voice for a period of time, which does what it says on the tin, I think.
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mrehkka · 7 months ago
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Never posted any of my Mrehkka art here! Despite it being the character I used for my username lol
(Also forgot to note on the images, but the tail is retractable like the arms!)
so Mrehkka is from an ancient book about his life- how he went from being a simple and beloved model to Irk's greatest hero, saving them from annihilation from an invading species they used to share the planet with. .....it's also famous among other aliens for being Irk's only (surviving) love story, though in modern translations, the romantic bits are downplayed and translated out. Only those chosen to learn Classic Irken (rare) get to read the original (it's their only surviving text written in Classic, anything else has just been translated INTO Classic). No other alien knows Classic as they keep it highly classified (they use it for military abbreviations).
And as it was written in a time before PAK's, many aliens use the story to study Irken psychology and what they might be like if they didn't have PAKs.
THEN there's Squin-Zinn (sometimes spelled Squin-Zin). They are a third species that also lived on Irk back then. Also Mrehkka's lover 😌 they're the one who warned Mrehkka and his people about the incoming army. Though, they eventually regret this, as it's eventually made clear that Mrehkka will die fighting to protect everyone, and they beg him to stop and run away, but Mrehkka tells them "I would fight for you, if it meant I could die in your arms". ...which he then proceeds to do.
the story in modern Irken culture is framed as, Mrehkka died protecting his people and you should be just like that :D aaaand they kinda downplay Squin-Zinn bc they don't want anyone to end up thinking "Mrehkka fought to protect one person, and died for THEM not Irken society" bc that could be bad...
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thebiggestfuckgiven · 1 year ago
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Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps
Rating: T
Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes
A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3
- 💜 -
October 2004
The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.
This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.
Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.
Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.
She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.
Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.
She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.
Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.
“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”
The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.
“Guys, this isn’t funny!”
Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?
She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.
Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—
“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”
Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.
“Shit.”
She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.
Shithsitshitshit.
Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.
The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.
She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.
Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.
In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.
Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.
Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.
“Hey!”
All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.
“Sam,” he croaked.
Dash barked out a laugh.
“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.
Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.
“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.
Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.
Kwan scoffed.
“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”
“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.
“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”
Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.
“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”
It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.
“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”
Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.
“Augh, bitch.”
Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.
“Run.”
They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.
“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”
“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”
They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.
Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.
Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.
She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.
Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.
“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”
“Or what?”
He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.
“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”
Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.
They were about to be locked in a horror house.
Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.
“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”
The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.
“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”
Bam!
Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.
“Wha…”
Sam waited with bated breath. Then—
A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.
Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.
“What the fuck—”
Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.
Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.
If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.
Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.
The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.
Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.
“Tucker—”
“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”
“Tucker!”
Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.
“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.
“Okay, okay, yeah.”
“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”
Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.
“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”
Sam shook him again.
“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”
Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.
There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.
“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”
“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”
Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.
“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”
Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.
“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”
“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”
A pause.
“We should find a way out.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?
She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.
“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”
Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.
“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”
Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.
“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”
That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.
It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.
In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.
Sam pointed at the young girl.
“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”
Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.
“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”
“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”
Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.
“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.
The house was creaking.
Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.
Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.
Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.
“Think there’s anything edible left around?”
She glared at him sharply.
“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”
Tucker pouted but conceded.
“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”
Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.
They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.
“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”
“Like… ghosts?”
Sam nodded.
“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”
“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.
It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.
Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.
“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”
His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.
“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”
This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.
“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”
Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.
“What happened to Daniel?”
Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.
She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.
“T-t-t-tucker—”
“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.
Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.
“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”
The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.
She frowned, unsure why she did that.
“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”
“Wait, both of—”
“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”
None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.
“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.
“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”
Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.
“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”
“Christ,” he muttered.
They walked onwards.
“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”
They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.
Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.
“I don’t like the way you said that.”
Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”
Her voice was hollow.
“Shit. They…”
“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.
Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.
And their daughter…
As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”
Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.
“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”
Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.
Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.
“Tucker—”
“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”
“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.
“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”
“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”
Tucker nodded again, quiet.
It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.
He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.
She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.
“Rusted?”
Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.
“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”
Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.
“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.
He gave her a look like she was crazy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”
“—is locked.”
“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”
“If you say ghost.”
Sam glared at him.
“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”
Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.
“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”
The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.
Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.
“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.
Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.
“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”
She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.
“Sam.”
He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.
She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.
When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.
They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.
They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.
There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.
“Sam… is that—”
“Tucker, look.”
The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.
They stayed there, standing, for a moment.
“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”
Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.
“I think so.”
They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.
“What if something happens to us?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.
“And?”
She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.
“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”
Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.
They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.
“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”
Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.
From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.
That’s when the pounding began.
Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.
It only gets worse.
A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.
“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”
This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.
“What do we do? What do we do?”
“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”
Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.
“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”
She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.
“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”
“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”
She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.
“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.
Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.
“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”
There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.
Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.
“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.
“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.
Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.
It broke apart with a resound clang.
“Help me with—”
But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.
They’d both been holding their breaths.
The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.
Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.
He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.
“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.
Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.
“You’re safe with us.”
He always would be.
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milkwands · 2 months ago
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saw him earlier for probably the last time til spring semester
#🍞#at which point we will become best friends btw#theres gotta be a heavy soprano / light baritone duet we could do#ok i dont know if im really a coloratura but all 3 of the roles i sang for this class are on the wikipedia article for coloratura soprano#if i was id probably be dramatic but 2 of them are under lyric#and another under lyric is gilda in rigoletto who has a duet with rigoletto whos a baritone that came up#number 3 after la ci darem la mano don giovanni is a tenor?#pa pa pa which a duet i did this semester was based on and weve also done magic flute and that scene the semester before enough is enough#4 is from porgy and bess we’re both white#5 is bei mannern welche liebe fuhlen i lovee that song but again we did magic flute#although our pamina isnt doing the class this year#but mainly its very slow for a scenes program#5 is cinque dieci venti which he did last fall and im way to heavy for susanna#dont know the ones after that might listen to them to makeup scenarios in my head#you know … i tell myself i just dont have a favorite music genre anymore#but i didnt really consider that listening to classical goes beyond just studying for me#and after my top artist was mozart … this is who i am i fear#he doesnt even like listening to classical just watching it#he said he doesnt really listen to music which is what i would say#maybe hes telling the truth or maybe he didnt post his spotify wrapped bc he just listens to musical theatre or a capella or smth#can we be loser4loser pleaseee#god i almost asked if he had a church job before ts even started we could be coworkers by now#it probably wouldnt have worked out and been awkward and the guy i did tell about it is really cool and seems excited for it#if all else fails we Will be in chamber his last semester before student teaching#and so will my emotional support annoying freshman who will be a sophomore by then so maybe less annoying#mayyybe professor chamberprofessor will like our voices together probably there will be a lighter soprano to go in a group with him#if im even singing soprano lmao waiiit tenor maya comeback ⁉️#what was i even talking about
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doerot · 2 years ago
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how do people draw without line weight and make it look good I am out here struggling
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carebearbussy · 6 months ago
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𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙧
ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨.
ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙚𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨
ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.4K
𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
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✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   .
Truly, this moment was heaven sent.
You had convinced Sukuna to take a walk with you in your favorite place in the estate, the courtyard. It truly was a sight to see. The green grass really contrasted well with the beauty of the sakura trees, with them being in full bloom for the occasion. But what was truly the icing on the cake, was being in Sukunas presence. He always seemed to ease your nerves without fail.
And the same could be said vice versa. For some reason, you faltered his facade bit by bit, to his annoyance. But when you had asked to take a walk with him, he was pleased by this. You two didn't really talk too much on your walk through the courtyard, being more than content with each others company, since you usually don't get too much alone time.
Sukuna walked a few feet in front of you, as you followed him, entranced by the way he carries himself. You found yourself studying his features, and the way he carried himself. It was no wonder he had so many woman fall to his side. He truthfully exuded so much confidence, and was just so god damn masculine. Even the way he walked, slowly striding himself, would make anybody falter their movements.
"I can feel you staring at me, you know. You are truly foolish if you did not think I would notice." He remarks, amused by what is going on behind him. "Oh sorry ... I couldn't help it 'kuna." You say as you bow your head, while Sukuna turns your way, stopping in front of a particularly large sakura tree. You couldn't help but smile at the fact that he noticed. But you knew you had his favor. If this was another concubine doing that, they would have lost their head by now.
"That is no matter. You are quite the observant one aren't you?" He says, laughing to himself to the nickname you have given him. The wind blows at a relaxing pace, truly bringing out the best of the moment.
But your small moment is interrupted when you see a group of mid ranking concubines, one of them being a higher rank than the rest. They walk, and chuckle to themselves. And then they notice you, and you can see their faces churn into disgust.
"Look at me, not them. They hold no value."
It is well known around the estate that you are Sukunas favorite concubine, and are treated within his favor. And for that reason, they absolutely despise you. You see they start whispering to themselves, oh great. Probably the basics, about how 'shes a whore', or the classic 'she's the biggest bitch'.
You see them sit around a large fountain in the middle of one of the sections of the courtyard. You remember this was the place you were first aquatinted by Sukuna. But this was also the place where "Y/N's personal hate club" took place. They would sit around the fountain and make remarks and joke to themselves about you. You could tell they were insecure, and one could say jealous. But they were supposed to be people you could rely on. Instead, you have Sukuna.
They giggle and start pointing at you, and make gestures such as tripping and falling to make fun of you, since they know you are clumsy. Then you overhear them mimicking you, saying "Oh my god i'm so clumsy! 'Kuna come save me!". And finishing with a loud group laugh. Another chimes in, saying "I want attention 'Kuna! Give me the attention I deserve!" It all gets too your head all too often, and leaves you in a mess of your own thoughts, are you too reliant on him? but you try your best to keep your composure.
You feel a wince in your feet, the Geta shoes rubbing up against the crevice of your two toes, making you falter a bit in your steps."Whats wrong, your foot? Cant walk when a couple of broads are making fun of you?" He mimics. "No- theres a rash on my foot I think." You say, as you wince yet again due to the discomfort. You moved your leg off the ground, causing you to hold yourself up barely with one leg.
Sukuna sighs, as he takes a good look at you."You need me to baby you? You can't stand on your own? If you want me to carry, just say so." He spoke, as he walks towards you, picking you up with his lower set of hands, carrying you on his back. "Just shut up and enjoy the walk." Firmly stating, and clearly imposing that to him, this is very sacred. He wouldn't even give another woman another glance, but for you he would. And a piggyback ride? How could you say no?
You freely hang your arms
"Lets continue." he says firmly. You smile to yourself at the fact that you are currently being carried by a behemoth of a man. You turn to look at the group of girls, and notice they have stopped their antics, and instead have proceeded to look at the two of you, dumbfounded. You gesture a small wave towards them, adding onto your bragging, which made one of them gasp out. It made you feel better about the fact that you would get constantly harassed by them. It made you feel better that you knew you were better at the end of the day.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   .
You watch as the women disappear into the distance, and continue the focus on Sukuna. "Why must you and your kind always focus on such idiotic things?" He says, breaking the silence of your peaceful walk. "Its not 'idiotic' 'kuna. You wouldn't understand, since you aren't' 'one of my kind'." You say sarcastically with a giggle. Sukuna shakes his dead with a disapproving manner.
"Why must you always text my patience woman?", He asks. "But you don't seem to mind." Silence falls over the two of you except for a annoyed 'tsk', Sukuna clearly not wanting to respond.
That silence is broken as you walk past a mandarin tree, your favorites. You were hoping Sukuna would notice, and to your avail, he did. He pauses his walking, and looks over to you with his bottom set of eyes. "Don't keep me waiting, hurry up and pick your damn fruits."
In reality, he adored indulging your antics. He has implanted a small garden just for you. He knew you likes the local mandarins that he had a butler pick for you at the market. So why not give you a whole garden? He secretly loved seeing your face light up, and the special little way you shot him a toothy grin. It was charming to him.
He watched as you picked up a mandarin off the lively tree, enjoying the way your sleeve outstretched. He remembered he had gotten that kimono custom tailored to your liking, and the flow of the outfit to his preference. "Hm... ill pick..." "We don't have all day brat." he says, with a roll of the eyes. You can tell he was being sarcastic, you knew him too well.
"Fine..." You say, giving him a roll to the eyes back. You grab the mandarin, and he continues walking. The mandarin was plump, just like you predicted. But it was particularly hard to peel. Your nails couldn't seem to do the job.
"'Kuna, can you help me please?" You say, stretching the mandarin in front of his gaze. You can tell Sukuna is unamused. "You can't open a fruit on your own? What would you be without me, honestly." He says as he takes the mandarin into his hand, peeling it with ease. You watch over his shoulder in awe at his handwork. "Here, eat what I give you." He hands you a slice of the mandarin and opens your mouth with one finger, and places a slice in your mouth with another finger.
You gladly eat it, happy with the attention Sukuna is giving you. Some of the juice dribbles onto your chin, as Sukuna wipes it with his left hand, then wiping it onto his kimono.
With his bottom set of eyes, they study your face. You are asleep. You must have fallen asleep due to him practically cradling you. The mix of the slight bounce in his steps, and the way he was holding you with his lower arms made you feel secure. He scoffed to himself at the sight.
"You should be grateful for the treatment I give you, brat."
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   .
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viennatodd · 1 year ago
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when you tell them what your name means and they go "that's interesting, if you were [white ethnic group] your name would mean this instead."
I’m a broken record at this point but people messing up your name and not caring is absolutely a racialised experience. no one expects people to know how to pronounce names they’ve never heard before the first time they see them, but it’s an issue when they don’t care about getting it right at all (when, in contrast, people are generally very apologetic when they screw up white people’s names and they generally correct the error). there’s a generalised disrespect and disregard for the names of nonwhite people, especially if those names are non-European (which occurs interpersonally but also shows itself in discussions of public and historical figures). ask any given person of colour (including ones with European or Europeanised names) and they could probably write you a dissertation about how their name is responded to and how those responses are clearly calling on racialised scripts. no one here is upset over nothing.
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watchmegetobsessed · 3 months ago
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UNMATCHED
A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it
WORD COUNT: 2.6k
WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship
SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
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Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 
He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 
He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 
Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 
Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 
Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 
“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 
And here we go. 
It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 
That’s when he sees her. 
Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 
Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 
She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.
From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 
He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 
And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.
“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 
He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 
The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 
Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 
“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 
“S-Sorry, I don’t–”
“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”
She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 
“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”
“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 
He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 
“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 
“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”
“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 
“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”
“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”
“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”
“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”
The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 
“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”
“I’d be happy to.”
The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 
They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 
When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.
“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”
“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”
“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”
“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”
She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?
“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”
“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”
There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 
“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”
For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 
Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 
It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.
“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”
Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 
They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 
“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 
He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 
But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 
“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 
“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.
“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”
“Okay.”
Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.
He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 
Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 
“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.
“I wanted it–”
“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”
“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”
“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.
“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.
“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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yuujispinkhair · 4 months ago
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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 07
🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
MASTERLIST
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If someone told you a few weeks ago that you would spend hours in the library, studying in comfortable silence with the resident hockey star, you would have laughed at them and told them they were crazy. But here you are, on a Wednesday afternoon, sitting across from Sukuna at a small table in the library, surrounded by your classic literature books and Sukuna's history books, studying together as if it is the most natural thing ever.
Sukuna bumped into you this morning, Grinning at you and telling you to meet him after class so you could have lunch together. And considering your little fuckbuddies arrangement and how close the two of you got through it, you found yourself raising a teasing eyebrow at him and asking in a flirty voice,
"And how do you know our classes end at the same time? Be honest, Sukuna. Are you following me around?"
And he smirked that equally teasing smirk at you,
"There's no need for that, princess. I don't need to stalk you like some fucking creep. I know we both have classes in this wing on Wednesdays, and I know both our classes end at 11:30. It's not following around. It's called having a brain. Also, I wouldn't be where I am in life if I didn't plan ahead. Remember this: I am always in control. I always plan things."
"So, what is your plan with me?"
A smug smirk spread over Sukuna's face, and he leaned down, cupping your chin,
"Take you to lunch and then to the library since I know we both have no classes after lunch, and I have to study history, and you have to study literature. So we are going to spend the afternoon sharing a table at the library."
With that, he had left for his class, making you stand there grinning and looking after him, gaze trailing down Sukuna's deliciously v-shaped body, from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips and that firm ass in his tight black jeans.
And now you sit in the library across from him, and you have to admit that Sukuna is a surprisingly nice study partner. He is very focused on his work. You watch him from time to time, watch how completely immersed he is in the things he is researching. The way his tattooed face scrunches up at times and the way his lips twitch when he finds something that amuses him. You realize one thing: The popular star player is a little nerd when it comes to the things he's interested in. Be it hockey, working out, or history.
You feel low-key bad for assuming Sukuna was the typical dumb jock who only cares about his sports. The truth is, he is actually at the top of all his classes. And it's not just because Sukuna got lucky and has the brains to get top grades without having to study. While Sukuna is naturally smart, he isn't someone who relies only on his talents. The resident star player isn't lazy. He works hard for his success. On the ice and in his classes.
You know how often Sukuna goes to the gym to work out and that he gets up at ungodly hours each morning to go for a morning run, no matter how shitty the weather is. He also analyzes the games of his opponents and works out tactics to win against them. Always planning everything, always making sure he is a step ahead.
And apparently, Sukuna shows the same ambition and dedication when it comes to studying. He is sitting here in the library, surrounded by old books, making color-coded notes and even occasionally putting on a pair of reading glasses so he can decipher the small fonts in his books. Sukuna is organized, disciplined, and hardworking. He is intelligent and ambitious but also very passionate about the things he enjoys. Driven by the desire to be the best, but also truly devoted. It is something you respect. And it is also sexy as hell.
You smile to yourself as you look up from your book and watch Sukuna tapping a tattooed finger on a passage in his history book as if he fully agrees with what is being said there. You think that most people who see him on campus or on the ice don't know that Sukuna is an intelligent nerd hiding in the body of a dumb jock and behind the appearance of a bad boy who likes to pretend he doesn't give a fuck.
Maybe Sukuna is good at hiding his true nature from everyone else but not from you. Your smile grows bigger, realizing that you can read Sukuna like a book. Analyzing him is like analyzing the characters in the novels you read. And Sukuna is such a lovely, complex character. Maybe you should use him as your muse for the next short story you write?
Suddenly, maroon eyes look up from the book they were studying and instead look deeply into yours.
"What happened to studying, Miss? I know I'm more interesting than your books, but if you want to get a good grade for your assignment, you better look into one of those books before you instead of just staring at me."
Sukuna's smirk is downright rude with how smug it is, and you huff loudly, rolling your eyes, about to complain, but you get distracted by Sukuna placing a large lunch box in the middle of the table and opening it to reveal a delicious-looking homemade banana bread. Wordlessly, he pushes the box toward you, and you sigh softly and take a slice of the banana bread that tastes just as good as it looks.
Sukuna's eyes are on you as you chew, and when you tell him it tastes delicious, a small smile plays around his lips that looks so genuinely happy and proud that it makes your chest feel strangely warm.
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It's Saturday, and you are where you always are now when the Tigers have a home game: In the hockey arena, watching Sukuna being the King of the Ice who is turning the whole arena into his personal throne room.
You can't help but bite your lip when you watch Sukuna skating/running over the ice with the puck securely under his control, eyes focused on the goal ahead, not letting anyone stop him, making the rival players who try to get in his way, drop to the floor after several brutal body checks from The King of Curses. He looks so cool when he slams his opponents into the boards, a smirk flashing behind his face cage, maroon eyes alight with that mad, happy glint he always gets when he is on a victory streak.
And those eyes find you in the stands again, locking the two of you in an intense gaze while you grin matching grins at each other. The whole arena is chanting Sukuna's name, but his eyes are only on you. The star player and his lucky charm.
It leaves you feeling light-headed, adrenaline sizzling through your veins not just because of the high-speed game and the loud, euphoric mood in the arena but also because of your little interaction with Sukuna.
You see images flash in your mind of you and him lying naked in his bed last night. The way Sukuna was on top of you, looking so gorgeous with his biceps flexed from bracing himself on the bed while fucking you in missionary, almost as if he was using it as a workout, doing pushups on top of you.
And you were admiring the sight and moaning softly while letting Sukuna fuck you with those lazy, slow strokes while he told you about the tactics he worked out for today's game. Until his thrusts became erratic, and instead of ice hockey tactics, all that came out of his mouth were those sexy low groans and raspy breaths.
After the game, you walk down the stairs that lead to the plexiglass surrounding the rink, already seeing Sukuna skate over with his helmet under his arm, running a large hand through his sweaty pink hair, a big proud grin on his face. You grin, too, as you stop in front of the plexiglass to congratulate him, and Sukuna winks at you,
"Thanks for the good luck, princess. See, I told you my new pre-game routine is great."
You feel your face become hot, knowing full well that you are the pre-game routine he's talking about. Or, more precisely: Sukuna fucking you as stress relief while rehearsing his tactics. But you cover up how flustered you are by laughing and winking at Sukuna, too,
"It's always a pleasure to help."
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You spend more time over at Sukuna's dorm, and it's not all that awkward anymore when you walk out of his room and run into Yuuji.
Maybe it's because Yuuji is naturally someone who is really nice and makes you feel very at ease around him, or it is because spending so much time with Sukuna has made you become more shameless and more confident. Either way, you just smile and greet Yuuji when you see him sitting on the couch in the living area, controller in hand, playing Mario Kart. And he smiles his big sunshine smile and waves you over,
"Hey, do you wanna play a few rounds with me?"
You smile and nod, joining him on the couch and taking the second controller he hands you.
Maybe you should feel embarrassed because Yuuji's twin brother just fucked you doggy style on his bed a few minutes ago, making you sob into his pillow with how good the dick was, and you are pretty sure you still smell like sex, and Sukuna's cologne, but you cannot bring yourself to care. It's too comfortable here on the couch, and Yuuji is so welcoming and uncomplicated. Somehow, you like that Sukuna's brother treats you like this, as if you belong in this dorm, too. As if you are Sukuna's girl.
Your breath hitches at the thought, but you get over it a second later when a red turtle shell hits your kart and makes you scream loudly while Yuuji laughs.
Sukuna strolls past the couch, ruffling first his brother's and then your hair, making both of you complain and swat at his hand, but he just laughs that low laugh and casually strolls into the kitchen area.
Your gaze strays to Sukuna's tall, buff body for a few seconds. He is only wearing grey sweatpants, sitting so low that you can see the elastic band of his black boxer briefs. You are so distracted that you crash your kart into a fence, quickly scrambling to get back into the race.
"Hey, princess, you staying for dinner?"
You blink and gaze once again at the pink-haired boy in the open kitchen. Sukuna is grinning lazily at you, holding a pan and a spatula in his hands. You raise an eyebrow,
"Do you mean you are going to cook something?"
"Yeah, is that so surprising?"
"Well, yeah... I assumed you only eat your protein stuff and cooked chicken. I am not staying for that. I can eat a real meal at home."
"Oh, shut up. You will sit your pretty ass on my kitchen chair and eat the fucking food I cooked, and you will love it."
To your surprise, Sukuna can actually cook. Really well, too. You nod when he asks you if the princess would like a second helping. And you see the genuine, proud smile on his tattooed face when you praise his cooking skills. It's actually cute how happy Sukuna seems when he sees you enjoying the food he cooked.
And you have to admit to yourself that having dinner together with Sukuna and his brother makes you feel even more at ease spending time in their dorm outside of having sex with Sukuna.
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The first time you tell Sukuna to come over to your dorm is on a Tuesday evening when you know Nobara has plans with Maki, which will keep her out of the apartment for several hours.
Sukuna 🏒👑: What are you doing tonight, princess?
You: Nothing, really. Wanna come over?
Sukuna 🏒👑: Bet. See you after my workout.
You aren't even nervous anymore at the prospect of the hockey star coming over. You just feel this very nice and excited buzz at the thought that in an hour, you will have sex with Sukuna.
It feels so natural. So uncomplicated. You just hop quickly into the shower and afterward don't even bother picking a nice outfit, but just slip into a random pair of fresh panties and socks and grab the comfiest clothing item you own, Sukuna's white hoodie.
When Sukuna knocks on your door twenty minutes later, you open the door, wearing only your panties and his hoodie, and smile up at him with a breathless chuckle.
"Hey, Kuna. How was your workout?"
But Sukuna doesn't reply but stops in the open doorway, staring at you with wide maroon eyes. You wonder if it was the nickname you unintentionally used that caused this reaction. It makes your lips lift in an even broader smile, your pulse sizzling with a strange kind of power. For the first time since you started to interact with Sukuna, you feel like you have the upper hand.
Sukuna's maroon eyes trail hungrily over your body. Over your naked legs and his white Tigers hoodie. A moment later, he is on you, banging the door shut behind him as he drops his sports bag and grabs your waist, picking you up and slamming you against the wall, silencing your surprised squeal with his lips in a hungry, demanding kiss, that makes your head spin.
You giggle into the kiss as your hand caresses Sukuna's neck, fingertips running over the short stubble of his undercut, and Sukuna makes that sexy noise in the back of his throat again, that little growl that makes your fingers grab his soft pink hair and pull him even closer, opening your mouth further to let him lick your tongue with those deep, sexy caresses.
Sukuna carries you to your bedroom, throwing you on your bed, where you land with a breathless chuckle that turns into a soft moan when Sukuna joins you on the bed, his large hands pulling your panties down impatiently while his soft lips trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your legs.
Sukuna yanks off his shirt, followed by his sweatpants and boxer briefs, making you lick your lips when you see his gorgeous hard cock slap heavily against his firm abs. So hard for you, so ready to fuck you into bliss.
Your hands wander to the hem of the hoodie, but Sukuna shakes his head, maroon eyes boring deeply into yours,
"Leave it on."
And so your little fantasy that you had when you first got Sukuna's hoodie becomes real. You are on your bed, straddling Sukuna's lap, only wearing his hoodie and nothing else, your wet pussy rubbing over his hot hard cock, gasping anytime his thick mushroom head catches on your clit. And Sukuna is beneath you, cursing and groaning, his large hands slipping under the hoodie to hold your waist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you.
"Yeah, princess, like that. Slick my cock up. Make it all wet and messy so I can fuck you real nice."
He flips you over after a while, pushing your thighs apart, revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze, moaning while he fists his cock and pumps it a few times while his thumb brushes over your clit, circling it slowly, making you whine loudly, babbling about how much you want his cock.
And Sukuna grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, pushing into you with a hard, deep thrust that makes both of you gasp loudly. He doesn't waste a second but humps against you, fucking you at a hard deep pace. You feel delirious when Sukuna's calloused hands trail over your legs, putting them on his shoulders, and you suddenly can feel him even deeper in you.
It draws a loud, shaky sob from your lips as you cling to Sukuna's arms, digging your nails into his bulging biceps as he fucks you with those deep strokes that make your legs dangle from his broad shoulders in rhythm with his hard thrusts.
The hoodie rides up during the hard fuck, and you see Sukuna looking down, watching his slicked-up cock push in and out of your creamy pussy, and it makes you clench around him, so turned on by his gaze.
Sukuna is so sexy, all buff muscles which flex with every roll of his hips, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin, low grunts falling from his lips as he fucks you so deep and so good, making you think you might be addicted to his dick.
You breathe out his name, "Kuna...", your hands squeezing his biceps as you get pushed into the mattress rhythmically, gasping anytime Sukuna's thick mushroom head caresses your g-spot, sending you closer and closer to the edge, each deep stroke making a fluttery sensation fill your belly.
You mewl loudly when you cum around Sukuna's cock, your heels digging into his broad, muscular back, your pussy tightening so much around him that he hisses loudly.
And Sukuna fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm. He yanks on the hoodie, pushing it up to reveal your tits to him, watching as they bounce wildly with how hard he is fucking you.
He pulls out just in time for his orgasm, letting his hot cum rain down on your tits and your belly, and your pulsing clit while a series of sexy low groans falls from his lips.
You look at Sukuna in awe. How he kneels between your legs, so sexy and big, his twitching cock still in his hand, his eyes wandering hungrily over your body with the hoodie pushed up to reveal your skin covered in Sukuna's thick milky seed. And you can't help but moan, feeling so sexy like this, so desired, tits covered in Sukuna's cum, pussy still pulsing hotly from the mind-boggling orgasm Sukuna fucked out of you.
You smile dazedly up at Sukuna, barely holding yourself back from telling him that you think his dick is your favorite thing in the world, and he grins down at you with that charming smirk,
"You look so fucking good in my hoodie. I should get you more team merch, princess."
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Sukuna seems to feel at home at your dorm, too, much to Nobara's dismay. You watch with growing amusement how she and Sukuna interact with each other. Always just waiting to say something rude to the other while their eyes glow with devilish fun.
Sukuna shamelessly struts out of your room, only wearing his low-sitting grey sweatpants and no shirt, his neck adorned with your lipstick marks, and his broad back full of the scratches your fingernails left there. He strolls casually into your kitchen, yanking open the fridge and getting some milk as if he lives here.
You lean in your open door, wearing his hoodie, watching him with a dazed smile on your face while Nobara casts a scandalized look at Sukuna's bare chest and the milk carton he brings provocatively to his lips, drinking straight out of the carton before he smirks his typical rude smirk at your dormmate,
"Hey, Ginger. Got a problem?"
"Hey, Kirby. Yeah, I think you should wear a shirt, and I hope you know that you have to pay for that milk!"
Sukuna laughs and walks past her, the milk container firmly in his tattooed hand, tilting his head back to gulp down even more of the milk. And Nobara's eyes widen comically as she sees Sukuna's broad back with all the scratch marks your fingernails left on it.
"Are the two of you animals or what?"
But you see the grin tugging at her lips. This is exactly the type of stuff your dormmate enjoys, and you burst out laughing at her comment, which turns into a giddy squeal when Sukuna picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you back into your room while he smirks at Nobara holding up the milk container in his hand to wave mockingly with it, while his other hand sprawls over your ass.
"Thanks for the milk. Now I have the strength for another round. You better wear some headphones if the noise bothers you. I know we will be loud."
You whine his name, begging him to stop embarrassing you, but you can't stop the laughter from creeping into your voice. And Sukuna just gives your ass a squeeze and grins and cocks his head,
"You trying to shut me up, princess? There's a better way to do that. Give my mouth something other to do."
And his mouth is really busy doing something other a few minutes later when he has you on your bed with your thighs pushed apart by those strong tattooed hands while Sukuna kneels on the floor between your legs, his face buried between your thighs, his lips and tongue pampering your pussy while his nose pushes against your clit.
He's making out loudly with your pussy, leaving loud smacking kisses on your puffy clit, and writing his name on it with his tongue. And you gasp and whimper and tug on Sukuna's pink hair as your hips buck in helpless pleasure, every thought of your dormmate erased from your pleasure-clouded mind.
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"I can't ice skate. I never tried it."
You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to be rendered speechless upon your little confession during lunch. His hand, which was about to bring his usual cooked chicken to his mouth, stops in midair, and he stares at you with wide eyes as if you told him you don't know how to read.
"How can you never have been ice skating? What the fuck, princess?"
You laugh and shrug,
"I don't know. My town didn't have an ice skating arena, and none of my friends ever went ice skating, so...."
"That's absolutely ridiculous and unacceptable."
"Why? I think a lot of people never..."
You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna interjects,
"I will teach you."
"What? Um, no, I... I am really unathletic and everything. I will probably be terrible at it."
"That's why you get me as your personal coach. You can learn from the best. Come to the arena at 7:00 tonight. I can teach you after training. Feel special. You'll get a private lesson from the Ice King."
Sukuna winks playfully at you, and even though you already feel your face get hot at the thought of how much you will probably embarrass yourself, you can't help but smile.
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You enter the arena half an hour before your private lesson, sitting on the row directly behind the player's bench to watch the ice hockey team's practice while your pulse flutters more nervously with each passing minute. The ice looks intimidating. Hard and cold and unforgiving if you slip and fall.
When you look at Sukuna, who is currently speeding from one side of the rink to the next, it looks easy, of course. But you don't even want to think about how you will fare.
The coach claps his hands and announces the training is over, and the Tigers pile out of the rink, grabbing their stuff from the bench and leaving for the locker room without paying much notice to you. Yuuji and Todo pass you with big grins and reach out to high-five you, not even questioning why you are here during their practice.
And then Sukuna stops before you. Your heart jumps to your throat as you lift your head to look up at him.
He is so tall and broad in his hockey attire, with that smug smirk on his tattooed face. He extends a large hand to you, and you sigh and take it, letting him pull you to your feet, where you wobble immediately on the ice skates you are wearing. You gasp and tighten your hold on Sukuna's hand, clinging to him and exclaiming,
"Oh shit! Maybe we should call it a day. I will just make a fool of myself or break a leg or something!"
But Sukuna just laughs that amused, low laugh and his strong arm reaches around your waist, steadying you. He cocks his head and smirks at you,
"Come on, princess, do you really think I would let you fall? Haven't I already proved on our very first encounter that I am very good at catching you?"
His smirk grows even bigger, even more charming, and he winks at you, making your stomach feel a bit too fluttery, and you can't tell anymore if it is really just from the anxiety of standing on ice skates for the first time in your life, or if it has something to do with that boyish smirk on the star player's face.
But you feel safer now that Sukuna is holding you. Sukuna's grip on you is reassuringly strong as he slowly leads you toward the ice. He lets you hold on tightly to him without complaining, even as your nails dig painfully into his skin. His strong arm steadies you, keeping you safely on your feet.
You reach the ice, and your pulse flutters. Sukuna lets go of you after he makes sure you are holding onto the boards. He steps on the ice casually as if he is just walking on regular ground. It looks so natural when he does it.
And then Sukuna turns around to grin at you, extending his large hand again, letting you take it into your smaller hand,
"Come here, princess. I'll catch you."
Without further warning, Sukuna tugs on your hand, pulling you onto the ice. You register what is about to happen, and you start complaining nervously, but your feet are already taking a step forward. And then you are on the ice, screeching embarrassingly loud when you feel your feet slip away from under you.
But you never land on the cold ice. Instead, you get pulled forward and slam into Sukuna's tall, broad body. Your face presses lightly against his chest, feeling his firm muscles and the soft material of his hockey jersey, inhaling his fresh and sexy scent laced with a tiny hint of sweat from his earlier training session. It smells enticing and reassuring somehow.
Your hand that's holding Sukuna's is clinging to him in a death grip while the other is grabbing his jersey tightly. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's face, seeing his broad, amused smirk that immediately makes you roll your eyes and huff,
"Stop being so smug! I told you this is my first time!"
But Sukuna just laughs softly, and his other hand lands on your hip, gently pushing you a little bit to the back so you have to stand without leaning on him.
"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to ice skate if it is the last thing I do. Look at you, already being able to stand on the ice all by yourself!"
"But I am not.."
You start to say when Sukuna lets go of you for a moment, and you stare at him with wide eyes as you realize you are standing on the ice. A strangled laugh escapes your lips, but then you become too aware of the slippery ice beneath your feet, and you feel yourself slipping,
But Sukuna is there before anything can happen. He laughs and scoops you up into his strong arms, holding you princess-style.
"Come on, princess. I'll let you get a taste of how it feels to be on the ice."
He begins to skate across the rink with you in his arms, carrying you easily as if you weigh nothing. You laugh and wrap your hands around Sukuna's neck, your stomach tingling from the way he is skating across the ice with those fast, confident moves.
Sukuna does one lap around the rink with you in his arms before he carefully sets you down again. But his large hands hold yours securely, making sure you won't fall. He looks deeply into your eyes with his maroon eyes, which are so warm in this cold ice palace. And his lips lift in a little smile,
"Wanna give it a try now, too, princess? I will show you how. I promise I won't let go of you."
Sukuna is smiling so charmingly at you, and his low voice is so calm and serious, his hold on you reassuring and secure, and you realize that you trust Sukuna fully. You trust this scary-looking bad boy not to let you fall. You smile at him and nod softly,
"Ok. Show me, please."
You know that Sukuna is usually infamous for being a menace who scares the shit out of his opponents. A real devil on the ice.
But not tonight. Not when he is ice skating with you.
Sukuna is an amazing teacher. He is patient with you, never getting annoyed at your clumsiness. Instead, his large hand is holding yours safely, and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist, steadying you. His low voice in your ear encourages you. Praising you for every little thing you do. And you can't stop a stupid little smile from spreading over your face as you slowly glide over the ice at Sukuna's side.
"Don't be so tense, princess. Just lean on me. I got you, don't be scared. I won't let you fall. Trust me."
And you do trust him. You let out a breath and relax in Sukuna's strong arms, letting him take control. Letting him pick up speed while guiding you safely across the cold ice.
Sukuna skates with you all the way through the arena. Just the two of you on the ice while the arena sits in darkness and only the rink is illuminated. It could almost be romantic. You feel safe on his arm, weightless as you glide over the ice. It's an incredible feeling as if you are soaring through the air. The ice glitters prettily like a million diamonds. And Sukuna's hand on the small of your back radiates warmth even through your jacket.
You feel so safe in Sukuna's arms. And it's actually fun to skate across the ice, to feel the chilly air on your heated cheeks, to hear your own delighted laughter mingle with Sukuna's.
You are a bit out of breath when Sukuna digs the blades of his ice skates into the ice, bringing the two of you to a stop in front of the benches, grinning at you with such a genuinely happy expression on his tattooed face that it makes your heart clench and reach up to cup his cheek.
"Thank you, Kuna. That was really fun."
You gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. Time seems to stand still. And then you are suddenly kissing.
You can't tell who initiated it, whether you were the first who let herself fall against Sukuna to get on your tiptoes to reach his lips or whether it was him who tightened his hold around your smaller body and pulled you against him. But suddenly, your lips are moving against each other in a slow, gentle kiss.
A kiss that doesn't lead to sex. A kiss that isn't born out of the heated desire to rip each other's clothes off. A slow, tender kiss that makes your head turn to mush and makes butterflies dance in your stomach when Sukuna pulls you even closer against his firm, tall body.
When you pull away, you open your eyes and look up at Sukuna, right when he opens his eyes too. And for a moment, you are astounded because you have never seen those beautiful maroon eyes look so soft.
Sukuna laughs, a large hand cupping your cheek, and he asks if you want to do one last round across the rink. You nod dazedly, letting him gently pull you along, gliding once again over the glittering ice. Almost as if the two of you are the prince and princess in some fairytale, kissing on the ice, skating together into your happily ever after.
It's not like that, of course. You have to remind yourself this isn't a fairytale. You aren't a couple. But on this evening, for an hour in this dimly lit hockey arena, what the two of you have feels magical.
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Is there LOVE in the air? The private ice skating lesson was one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and it still gives me so many butterflies aaaahhhhh 💗💗 I want this so bad with him!! I hope you enjoyed it, too!
Writing this story is truly such a comfort to me, and I am so happy to hear that it brings y'all joy, too. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback and for getting on this journey with me 💗
I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
In Chapter 8 Reader will struggle with her feelings ;)
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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago
Text
Study
Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader
Summary: Doing schoolwork while the team is round is not a good idea
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The sun patch you were lying in was delightful.
The noise around you, was not.
You opened your eyes blearily, narrowing them to slits in annoyance.
Lucy stared at you and then pointedly turned the tv up in volume, laughing at your disgruntled look.
"Turn it back down," You said.
"No."
"Lucy," You whined," Please turn it down."
"Sorry, kiddo," Keira said as she appeared," But the rest of the team are coming over soon and you've got an essay to write."
You groaned at the reminder but sat up. The whole reason you had taken a nap in the first place was to procrastinate about writing your essay.
"Keira..."
"No, y/n," She said," Part of the agreement we made with your parents was keeping your grades up. I won't make you sit at the kitchen table to write it while the team is round but you have to get it finished today."
You groaned again but relented, grabbing your laptop from where it was charging nearby and pulling up your plan.
Your teammates flooded in through the next hour.
Asisat tapped you on the head as she passed to get to the kitchen. "School work?"
You rolled your eyes. "What gave it away?"
She laughed. "The fact that you've been staring at the screen for nearly twenty minutes and haven't typed a thing."
You darted your eyes across the room to look at Keira, who clearly hadn't noticed. You sent an awkward smile Asisat's way. "Don't tell Keira?"
"Your secret's safe with me."
The more people that arrived, the less you wanted to write your essay. The whole apartment had filled up with noise and even if you wanted to start typing, you were much more interested in hearing Claudia talk about the date she went on with her girlfriend.
You start typing your introduction before deciding you really can't be bothered right now and switch to writing about how Mark Antony's relationship with Cleopatra was the worst thing he could have done from the perspective of other Romans.
You were mindlessly typing and deleting your work when Frido and Aitana joined you on the sofa.
"How is your studying?" Aitana's English was getting much better now that she came around routinely to learn from Keira while you were forced to sit at the table and do your science work.
You gave her a deadpan look. "Oh, just great."
Frido laughed at your sarcasm. "Anything we can help with?"
"Unless you understand the intricacies of Mark Antony and Octavian's war for power after Caesar's death, then no."
Frido pulled a face. "You're studying that?"
"In theory."
Marta and Caro joined a moment later with cans of lemonade and snacks. You snatched up a KitKat quickly, anything to distract you from your next paragraph about Octavian's slanderous propaganda against his rival.
"How is our little student faring?" Marta asked, peering at your screen where you had repeatedly typed out 'I hate this class so much, I wish I could drop out'.
"Not good by the looks of it," Caro said even though it was obvious," What even is this?"
"Ancient Roman politics," Frido replied," It looks very boring."
"It's interesting," You said," Until you have to start writing essays and decide which of these horrible men was better."
"Who is better?" Aitana asked.
"...Octavian, because he won," You replied," But not because he was a better person. This is Rome - if you're not a bad person then are you really an Ancient Roman politician?"
The little group around you burst into laughter and Marta ruffled your hair. "You'll get it finished," She said," You're a smart girl."
Team bonding happened around you for the evening as you mindlessly typed and typed and typed until you were finally finished with your essay.
You stretched out in delight and headed into the kitchen where a to-do list hung on the fridge.
Irene, Sandra and Mariona were already there, studying it curiously as you grabbed a pen from the top of the fridge (standing on your tiptoes to reach it) before you crossed off your Classical Civilisations essay.
"That's a lot of work," Mariona said," This is for the whole month?"
"This is for the week," You replied, taking in her shocked look at your words," But I'm nearly done." You crossed off the Physics homework you finished last night along with the Maths worksheet you got done before practice this morning.
"It gets this bad?" Irene asked," I worry about when Mateo starts school properly."
You frowned. "I'm pretty sure that Mateo getting homework will be doing a drawing rather than writing essays."
"Well, if it helps," Sandra cut in," At least you've finished your essay now! You're free!"
You shook your head and pointed to the only thing Lucy had contributed to your list.
FINISH YOUR FUCKING PSYCHOLOGY ESSAY
"It's about language development in infants," You said, opening the fridge and grabbing some more lemonade.
When you finally made your way back to the living room, your seat had been taken by some of the girls so you ended up sitting in front of the armchair that Ingrid and Mapi had taken refuge on.
Instantly, Ingrid's hands threaded through your hair, massaging your scalp before pulling strands out of your face and pulling them into an intricate braid.
Apart from ever so slightly making you move your head to different positions, you were left mostly alone as you typed away about more research studies using brain imaging.
Mapi shifted behind you and you could tell she was trying to read over your shoulder.
"Why do you need to learn this?" She asked.
"It's interesting," You replied," I thought about doing psychology at uni before Barca signed me. I just hate writing about it."
"It looks boring."
"It's not," You said. Ingrid tied off your new braid and you turned to look at Mapi with a wolfish smile. "Besides, is it boring for you because it hits too close to home? Since you're such a child?"
Mapi swatted at you jokingly, lightly kicking you in the back until you shifted away from her with your laptop.
You refuge came in the form of the pile on the floor in front of the tv. Bruna and Jana welcomed you into the group instantly and you found yourself sandwiched between Ona and Esmee, who were viciously going against each other in FIFA.
"Is your essay finished?" Esmee asked," Keira told me not to text you after practice because you were writing your essay."
"Nearly," You replied," I've just got one more paragraph and then the conclusion. Ona's about to score, by the way."
With your words, Esmee just managed to block the shot as Ona shoved you in annoyance.
Jana and Bruna broke into laughter and peered over your shoulder.
"You used the wrong word," Jana said, pointing to where you had been writing about Piaget.
"It's kind of embarrassing that you're correcting me on my own native language," You said to her even as you corrected yourself.
"Learn Spanish," Bruna said," She makes a lot of mistakes in that."
"No I don't!"
"Yes you do!"
"You so do," Ona said," And y/n, you've got your tenses wrong."
You hadn't even noticed that the match had ended and that Ona was studying your essay until she spoke. Esmee looked over it as well, pointing at another grammar mistake.
You slapped their hands away and pointed to each of you. "Stop it! It'll get spellchecked at the end! You're ruining my creative process!"
"What creative process?" Jana laughed," You're writing an essay!"
"I hate you!" You declared with a laugh," Each and every one of you!" You pointed at them each in turn.
"Don't lie!" Bruna said," You love us."
You bat your eyelashes at her. "Write my essay and you'll have my undying love!"
"No chance!"
You finished your essay soon after without any of their help (although you would be the first to admit that your conclusion wasn't exactly the best) and hurried to cross it off the list, snatching it off the fridge. You sought out Keira in a group of the older girls. You showed her the list.
"I'm done!"
She took it from you, looking it over sceptically.
"And your psychology essay?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Keira, promise!"
"She promises, Keira!" Patri mocked your tone with a smile as Claudia and Gemma laughed.
You were one second away from stamping your foot but you refrained because you would never live down the 'little kid' allegations from your teammates if you did so.
"Look at this face!" Gemma said, cupping your cheeks," How could you be mean to this one?"
Keira had a contemplative look on her face.
"Come on, Keira," Claudia said," It's the weekend. We have a match in two days. She's been doing her work since we arrived. Let her have this."
"She could have had it finished before you all arrived if she hadn't taken a nap after practice."
"She's a growing girl!" Patri declared," She needs her nap so she can be big and strong like me when she grows up!"
An arm was thrown over your shoulder and you bit back your retort that the world couldn't handle two versions of Patri.
"Oh...fine, then. y/n go let Narla out of your room and then you're free for the rest of the day."
"Yes!" You pumped your fist into the air and hurried off.
Narla had been shut into your room the moment you came home after Keira watched you play with the little dog instead of doing your homework so she seemed very happy to be free, leaping into your arms like a little princess and making you walk her into the living room.
Salma and Cata intercepted you on the way, cooing over Narla like they had never met her before even though they had.
"It's strange to see you without your laptop," Cata said to you as she tickled under Narla's chin," I thought that it was surgically attached to you or something."
You would have shoved her if you had access to your hands but you didn't so settled for an unimpressed eyeroll. "Ha, ha, very funny. Make fun of my massive workload. I don't see you studying while playing football!"
"You know," Salma said and you already knew she was going to say something to tease you," When I was your age, I didn't have to worry about deadlines because I just did my work the day it got set."
You scoffed. "You're only three years older than me!" You stuck your tongue out at her. "If you want to write my essays for me, Salma, you should have just asked."
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That sounds like hell on earth."
You laughed all the way back to the living room, placing Narla on the floor and grabbing some snacks from the table when nobody was looking. You ended up on the floor for the most part, sat by Lucy's chair as the older woman sat above you, occasionally reaching down to feed you chocolate when she was sure Keira wasn't looking. But as it got later in the evening, you ended up migrating onto the sofa with Alexia.
"I heard you finished all your schoolwork for the week," She said as you lazed against her side, watching whatever Spanish soap opera Patri had forced onto the tv.
"Uh-huh." You were only half listening as you dozed off. Her nails scratched lightly at your scalp and the blanket that had been thrown over the pair of you made you feel all cosy and warm.
"Well done, y/n. I'm very proud of you."
"Thank you," You slurred slightly, head dropping to her shoulder as your vision got blurrier and blurrier.
"Are you tired, bebita?"
"No..."
Her chuckle jolted her body slightly but it was a little like the vibrations from being in a car so your eyes just drooped lower. "I think you are."
"Not...Not tired."
"You are. I think all that studying took it out of you."
"No..." You whined slightly and Alexia pulled you in a bit tighter. She manipulated your body in some way you didn't realise because you blinked and suddenly you were lying stretched out with your head in her lap. "I'm...I'm not tired."
You had already missed out on team bonding because of your studying. You didn't want to miss out on any more.
"You are very tired." Alexia's tone was firm but still somehow soothing and her nails drew patterns on your arm comfortingly. "You just need a little nap."
You tried to protest but Alexia's voice just got a bit firmer and a bit more like her captain voice so you knew that you couldn't argue back.
"Come on, bebita. It's nap time for good students like you. I'll wake you up when the food gets here."
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roonotrue · 2 months ago
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Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)
Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost
Savanaclaw Edition, Octavinelle Edition
Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.
Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.
Included Characters: Heartslaybul Edition!
Warnings: None.
Request Rules & Information Here
~~~
Riddle Rosehearts - "Queen of Hearts" by We The Kings
- Doesn't mean to eavesdrop- truly he doesn't- but when he hears the opening lines of the song he can't help but pause, wondering if this is a song dedicated to the ACTUAL Queen of Hearts that he's just never heard before.
- He doesn't listen to popular music very often, he's more of a classical music while studying kind of person, but you have a rather impressive voice, and the song is honestly very... Sweet.
- He doesn't get some of the references in the verses, but the chorus is very charming, paired with your voice, and the bright smile on your face as you playfully sweep around the room (not very efficient for cleaning, but you are obviously having fun, so-).
- When you notice him, he turns a unique shade of red, stumbling out an apology for intruding, he just needs to talk to you about—what did he need to talk to you about again?
- He can't remember b-but he thought your singing was lovely! And you're clearly busy so you should get back to it! The cleaning part! N-not the singing! Unless you want to sing again!
- He would certainly love to hear you... If you are comfortable singing the song for him again that is?
"I've never heard that song before, but I liked it a lot... Would you mind singing it again? I'd love to hear yo- it again."
~~~
Trey Clover - "Coffee Cake" by Benson Boone
- He was only swinging by Ramshackle to drop off some spare baked goods that he just had extra of and totally didn't specifically make for you.
- Anyway-
- When he heard you singing he paused in his tracks, leaning against the doorway to listen to you singing with so much energy and a bright smile on your face.
- It's like you're having your own little concert while you dusted- occasionally using said feather duster as a makeshift microphone. It's adorable.
- He can't help but smile softly at the scene- he's unfamiliar with the song, and yet it fits your voice so well.
- A little startled when you notice him, but not at all ashamed- you were amazing, how could he not stop and stare? Now would you like to take a break with him and tell him all about that song and its meaning?
- He's already thinking of a dozen different coffee cake recipes now to share with you, the song stuck in his head, and he'll probably be humming it while he bakes for the next week, thinking about you the whole time.
"Oh, don't be embarrassed, I thought you sounded incredible. You should sing more often, perhaps while we bake some actual coffee cake together?"
~~~
Cater Diamond - "La Da Dee" by Cody Simpson
- He wasn't even planning to stop by Ramshackle today until Grim showed up at Heartslaybul complaining about you doing nothing 'fun' just 'boring chores' and while he had no intention of actually helping clean, he figured he'd at least grace you with his presence to liven things up and keep you company!
- It's totally not because this is the first opportunity he's had in weeks to spend some alone time with you- hahaha-
- The moment he hears you singing he whips out his phone at the speed of light, rushing to start recording the moment so he can hear your amazing voice singing the sweet, energetic love song over and over.
- When you spot him he is shameless about it, loudly brushing off any embarrassment on your part to immediately praise your voice and the song. Did you write that yourself? Oh, is it new? Who's it by? You have to send him a link! Oh, it's from your world? Oh, he's totes jealous! Your world has seriously great music!
- Will literally beg you to let him post that video of you singing, you were so amazing! Your pitch, tone, energy, all of it was perfect! You'd go Magicam famous!
- If you don't want it posted he'll pout and won't post it- but he certainly won't delete it either, after all, you might change your mind someday! (And he totally wants to go back and watch it on his own time but he's not admitting that.)
"You should totally join the Pop Music Club! You can tell us all about more music from your world- we can even try to play some covers of some of the songs! And you'd look amazing in a custom club outfit! Think of the Magicam posts, MC!"
~~~
Ace Trappola - "Wild Heart" by The Vamps
- Oh.
- Ohohohoho- You are never living this down.
- You can sing!? Not to mention that song! He's certain he's never heard it before but damn are you performing it well. He's got half a mind to pull a Cater move and record you for blackmail later- or just to have for himself.
- He tries to be sneaky- but at one point when you do a fun spin while belting the bridge- oh, he just can't help himself- grabbing you and spinning you in a circle with that mischievous, cocky smile of his and a loud teasing laugh.
- Huh, what are you embarrassed about? You sounded great! He had no idea you had such a great set of pipes on ya! You should sing for him again- that song was great too, were you thinkin' of him while singin' it? It sounds like a good description of him.
- He'll only lay off if you tell him he should help with the cleaning- to which he'll quickly lay off it in favor of dragging you off to help him with whatever trouble he came over in the first place to drag you into.
"Aww, come on, Prefect! Lemme hear you sing one more time! You sounded good, and that song was totally up my alley!"
~~~
Deuce Spade - "Last First Kiss" by One Direction
- Is entranced. Unlike the others who knew they were eavesdropping/knew it was a private moment, he doesn't really get the memo.
- He's too caught by surprise by your amazing voice and the song to realize he's staring in awe like a creep. It's rather romantic... And he can't help but fantasize for a moment that maybe- just maybe...
- And then you spot him. And he turns redder than Riddle when he's throwing a tantrum.
- He didn't mean to be weird or make you embarrassed he promises! He just thought you sounded really nice!!
- He will apologize sooo much until you assure him it's alright and to just not tease you. Tease you? How could he ever do that!? You were amazing! You sounded like a professional singer- at least to him, you did!
- You can go back to singing if you want- he'll even help you with your cleaning as an apology for barging in (totally not just an excuse to maybe hear you sing again while you work).
"I'm really sorry again! I just... Thought you sounded really nice is all... I'll help you with the chores to make up for it! But, feel free to go back to singing. I really liked that song..."
~~~
And that's all folks! My first-ever Twisted Wonderland fanfiction post! I hope I got the personalities right, please comment with your thoughts and opinions! Love ya, and see ya next post ~ Roo
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astro-rainbow777 · 9 months ago
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💐🌸 𝓣𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 🧸🌱
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♉︎ - Happy Taurus Season Everyone!!! In honor of Taurus season, I am continuing the signs through the houses series. I hope y’all enjoy my findings & this post serves you well. Thanks so much for all of the support! Happy Spring & Upcoming Beltane to the Pagan Community <3
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🌸 Taurus in the First House ~ Taurus on the ascendant is the embodiment of peace, calm and pleasure. These natives aren’t the most outgoing but leave such a comfortable and cozy first impression. They don’t say more than needs to be said, however they are unlikely to turn down a conversation. They have a soft and natural beauty about them and strong familial values. They enjoy the finer things, have a clean aesthetic and a “rich” aura. Many of them are shorter or more petitie in size, have a pleasing and smooth voice and kind eyes. However, if you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns! Being on the opposing end of Scorpio, when they cut you off, it is completely. Good luck getting back into their lives because they are a closed book. Why y’all always smell good? Fr tho
🐂 Taurus in the Second House ~ Here the sign is in its ruling house, they do very well in saving their money, are picky about what they eat and indulge in the material pleasures of life. They value loyalty, commitment, stability and security - not to mention their love fashion & the arts. They will tell you they have the most exquisite taste, you would find it very difficult to change their mind. They hold up strong values and morales, what they know to be right and wrong is the truth. This is a very secure personality, they are very comfortable with their bodies, and have a healthy sense of worth and self love. Honestly such a healthy placement - as someone with NO earth in their chart - muhbenaaaace
💰 Taurus in the Third House ~ These natives find security and peace in their childhood homes, where they grew up, the memories of their cousins and siblings. They could be the most stable or the least stable out of their siblings. The way they think, learn and communicate is slow and methodical. They take their time in studying new topics, preferring to stay on the surface of a topic. They may have an artistic and beautiful singing voice, or maybe the way they speak is just very polite and sweet. They were raised with manners and this makes them very charming. They can have a liking for music that moves at a slower pace, classical music, or just a more elegant taste in art.
🥘 Taurus in the Fourth House ~ Their family could be a source of stability and security for them. The mom, mother figure or more feminine role model can be the bread winner in the family, her love language could be gifts, an amazing cook, and give a lot of hugs 🫂 They have stable emotions, it takes a lot to emotionally sway them. It may end up bothering people who try to get an emotional reaction from them because of this. They can be the most grounded one in their family. Their family may view them as realistic, practical and reliable. Family is what gives them sanction from the world.
💝 Taurus in the Fifth House ~ They express them selves in a very material type of way, their flex is their finances. These natives take a lot of pride in what they have...this usually comes from a place of having to work really hard for their things. They love the natural look, minimalist, they like long lasting, high quality, practical fashion. To them that is the best statement to make. They don’t like that trash to treasure look their tastes are refined. They will shower their kids with the finer things and really enjoy providing for them - this will be their love language. They aren’t huge adrenaline junkies and enjoy more grounded, chill hobbies. They definitely don’t mind being alone and love their down time at home…on the couch…snacks…naps…repeat.
🐻 Taurus in the 6th ~ These natives prefer a slow start to their daily routine, and enjoy a slow paced job, with chill yet organized coworkers. The workplace must be something that they don’t hate… because if they hate it and it stresses them out just thinking of going, they won’t work there. Period. They need low maintenance pets as these individuals are very independent in nature. It’s important for their day job to be a place of peace and pleasure for them, and once they are comfortable, it’s gonna be hard to get them to leave. Their job can provide them with sooooo much stability if they have a good one.
🍨 Taurus in the 7th ~ Wining and Dining with your loved ones! Shopping sprees, luxurious and high quality partners. With the ones they love the most, they spoil, eat and they just want to be lazy with them honestly. They want their relationships to be a place of peace for them. It’s important that their partner can support themselves and is stable on their own. It will just cause them stress if they are constantly worrying about having to take care or mommy their partner. It’s possible that they can stay with someone out of fear of the unknown/change, even tho they don’t like them or it’s not working anymore.
🌷 Taurus in the Eighth House ~ Cycles related to self esteem, self worth, and supporting themselves. Honestly, this is a really hard placement to have- they may have times where they stay in ab*sive relationships because they can’t support themselves financially or they are too uncomfortable alone. However, the eighth house is notorious for taking your greatest fear/weakness and turning it into their super power. You just have to get through those lessons and take those leaps of faith to unlock that power and hidden potential! They like to engage in their senses when they’re intimate with their partners and prefer slow love making rather than the raw primal stuff.
🪴 Taurus in the Ninth House ~ These people can be a little fixed in their beliefs, their spiritual beliefs/religion can be a source stability and sanction for them. If they aren’t necessarily spiritual- they could just have a specific philosophy or lifestyle that they stick to. What I admire about these individuals, is they know exactly what they want. When they travel, it has to be somewhere where they know exactly what to expect, somewhere that won’t give them anxiety, and probably a more luxurious staycation type of experience. They could also enjoy a nice nature walk with their loved ones.
👛 Taurus in the Tenth House ~ Every single person I have met with this placement neeeeeed a stable job, they will not leave a job if it provides them with the type of lifestyle they desire. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing for their career as long as it aligns with their values. Their dad/father figure could have been the sole provider and could have made a huge impact on their reputation. This is definitely a daddies money placement 💀 - sorry if that’s triggering for anyone lol. The father figure could be super down to earth and chill, enjoy cooking or just be way too overly indulgent in a negative manifestation.
👒 Taurus in the Eleventh House ~ Is the stay at home friend, doesn’t like to get out of their comfort zone to meet new people. Much likely to want to stay inside and bond with their community in a space that is familiar and inviting to them. Their community could be their sanction and be the most stable part of their lives. They enjoy cooking and creating art for their friends. Anything to bring peace to their homies senses! For their friends, the Taurus eleventh house native’s place is a home away from home. How special 🥹
👄 Taurus in the Twelfth House ~ When it comes to matters of the twelfth house, spirituality, isolation, ect. - these individuals may like to keep things light and on the surface. They are comfortable being alone, in fact they consider it to be comfortable and safe. Their spirituality isn’t something they spend time questioning, and they could be very comfortable with the unknown, they enjoy their own curious nature. They are endearing to their own selves, however sometimes their sense of worth could be confusing. They may have a hard time understanding their own values and morals, preferring to just go with the flow, everyday they are a new person trying on different personalities, hobbies and styles! The possibilities are endless! It’s quite an interesting placement. One more thing….secret indulgences…the silent snacker
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Smell ya later!
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germiyahu · 6 months ago
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This phenomenon of so called Leftists throwing up their hands at the tiniest pushback, or criticism, or suggestions on how to not actively be antisemitic needs to be studied. Because what do you mean instead of just accepting that an antisemitic troll claiming to be on your side said "Zionist Occupied Government" and denouncing this and moving on with your life... you double down, defend, and deflect. It's classic DARVO, but like, when people are very patiently and slowly explaining how this is a literal KKK Nazi white supremacist fascist phrase, it's not enough? You don't care?
It's clear that the "pro Palestinian" left have been fully infiltrated by fascists, both Western fascists who have always been nakedly antisemitic and are finding the perfect avenue to mainstream their Jew hatred... and Islamist fascists who simply never cared that Jews are a global minority group that has faced oppression and violence in multiple different continents, they don't care about social justice or fundamental human rights. It's not part of their intellectual tradition.
The "pro" Palestine movement has been captured by people who have decided that a) Palestine is emblematic of all of the problems of the world, and that b) every Jew is worth sacrificing to correct these problems, because c) if Palestine is emblematic, aren't Zionists responsible for everything then?
Now the prevailing thought is that someone should be able to call for violence against Jews, someone should be able to harass or even assault Jewish Americans, because bringing it up, complaining, taking a stand, that's the equivalent of telling them you like children blowing up, you like hundreds of thousands of people being homeless and food insecure, you like prisoners being detained in Guantanamo conditions without due process, where anyone can torture them as revenge even if there's no proof they're an actual Hamas member.
Is there a reason they argue like Republican Fox News addicts? I guess that kind of explains how easily the "movement" is falling apart to literal fascists.
They say "nobody cares about your hurt feelings ZIONIST!" if you mention literal stabbings and firebombs. They say "but we should talk about how pervasively synagogues indoctrinate the vast majority of Jewish people with Zionist ideology." They roll their eyes because "don't you know Palestinians are suffering 200x what these cushy American Jews could even imagine?" Facts don't care about your feelings uwu~
But at the end of the day, they care a lot about their own feelings, much more so than the facts. They feel entitled to hate all Jews all over the planet, to secretly revel in antisemitic rhetoric and acts, to want to take out their impotent frustration and despair on any and all Jews they'd like. This is very much about their feelings and not any Jewish people's feelings.
They've been waiting for this, or many of them never cared at all. Now it's finally Leftist to quote Nazis and openly make fun of Jews who are getting stabbed. Now it's finally Leftist to call for incinerating all of Israel and maybe we should consider a lot of Diaspora Jews too, you know they can't be trusted! Oh but don't forget to honor the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, innocent civilians should never have been targeted by America's vicious imperial violence!
The fact that it took this substantial contingent of watermelon twitter less than a year to go full mask off like this... is that revealing or troubling?
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togglesbloggle · 2 years ago
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It's interesting to me how much people struggle to intuit differences of scale. Like, years of geology training thinking about very large subjects, and I'm only barely managing it around the edges.
The classic one is, of course, the mantle- everybody has this image of the mantle as a sort of molten magma lake that the Earth's crust is floating on. Which is a pedagogically useful thing! Because the intuitions about how liquids work- forming internal currents, hot sections rising, cool sections sinking, all that- are all dynamics native to the Earth's mantle. We mostly talk about the mantle in the context of those currents, and how they drive things like continental drift, and so we tend to have this metaphor in mind of the mantle as a big magma lake.
The catch, of course, is that the mantle is a solid, not magma. It's just that at very large scales, the distinction between solids and liquids is... squirrely.
When cornered on this, a geologist will tell you that the mantle is 'ductile'. But that's a lie of omission. Because it's not that the mantle is a metal like gold or iron, what we usually think of when we talk about ductility. You couldn't hammer mantle-matter in to horseshoes or nails on an anvil. It's just a rock, really. Peridotite. Chemically it's got a lot of metal atoms in it, which helps, but if you whack a chunk of it with a hammer you can expect about the same thing to happen as if you whacked a chunk of concrete. Really, it's just that any and every rock is made of tons and tons of microcrystal structures all bound together, and the boundaries between these microcrystals can shift under enormous pressure on very slow timescales; when the scope of your question gets big enough, those bonds become weak in a relative sense, and it becomes more useful to think of a rock as more like a pile of gravel where the pebbles can shift and flow around one another.
The blunt fact is, on very large scales of space and of time, almost everything other than perfect crystals start to act kind of like a liquid- and a lot of those do as well. When I made a study of very old Martian craters, I got used to 'eyeballing' the age based on how much the crater had subsided, almost exactly like the ways that ripples in the surface of water gradually subside over time when you throw a rock in to a lake. Just, you know. Slower.
But at the same time, these things are more fragile than you'd believe, and can shatter like glass. The surface of the Earth is like this, too. Absent the kind of overpressures that make the mantle flow like it does, Earth's crust is still tremendously weak relative to many of the planet-scale forces to which it is subject- I was surprised, once, when a professor offhandedly described the crust as having a tensile strength of 'basically zero;' they really thought of the surface as a delicate filigreed bubble of glass that formed like a thin shell, almost too thin to mention, on the outside of a water droplet. On human scales, liquid is the thing that flows, and solid is the thing that breaks. But once stuff gets big or slow or both, the distinction between a solid and a liquid is more that a liquid is the thing that doesn't shatter when it flows. And it all gets really, really vague, which I suppose you'd expect when you get this far outside the contexts in which our languages were crafted.
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julietsbody · 10 months ago
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romeo meets juliet — luke castellan x reader : chess can be played in many different situations. 
tags : 18+!! loser!luke (hes actually such a loser im sorry), college setting, brothers best friend!luke, mutual pining, religious imagery(?), classic literature references, body worship, smut, luke is pathetically in love 
a/n : save me nerdy boy with sad eyes save me
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luke didn’t acknowledge your existence at first, he stuck to himself, from his classes, to his dorm, maybe even the lunchroom if his roomate, your brother, convinced him to come rather than just making all of his meals in the dorm. luke and your brother were complete opposites, luke was studying literature, mostly classic,  he didn’t speak to many people unless forced to— and your brother was studying engineering, which also basically required him to join a frat, and he spoke to nearly everyone with cockiness prominent in his tone. 
one thing they did have in common, though, was chess. 
now, your brother could never tell anyone, especially not his frat brothers, that he played chess, let alone was in the university’s chess club— but he felt pity for luke, most of the time luke played by himself, which was somehow equally as frustrating as having to play against someone else. 
the only people that knew about your brother playing chess was luke, the chess club, and you. 
luke remembers the first time you came trotting in to the dorm, complaining to your brother about some argument you had with your parents about how your friends are distracting you from your studies. your brother only rolls his eyes, barely listening to your non - stop whining about how it’s ridiculous, “i mean— you’re the one in a frat! why aren’t they mad at you?” 
“because i actually do my work,” he mumbles, and luke breathes out in a silent laugh, moving a piece on his chess board. 
“you’re in engineering, you don’t even have any actual work,” you frown, and albeit the fact that you’re wrong, you’re still confident in what you said. 
“are you stu— whatever,” your brother waves you off, deciding to change the subject when he motions to luke, the boy in a nirvana t-shirt, currently moving to a different side of the chess board as he plays against himself, “this is luke, my roommate, obviously.” 
luke immediately freezes, fingers curling around the chess piece he was adjusting to move— his eyes are wide, and they’re moving to look at you, only to immediately flicker to some other part of the room when they meet your expectant gaze. since he won’t speak first, you pick up the slack, “hey, luke.” 
your brother notices how luke looks like a scared, lost puppy even by the slightest implication of having to speak to a woman, let alone be perceived by one, so he moves to whisper in your ear, “he’s like, deathly afraid of women, i’ve never seen him speak to one, ever.” 
and you from that you don’t expect a response from luke, until he mumbles a short, “hi.” 
that’s when your head tilts, noticing the way his curls fall over his brows messily, like he doesn’t pay attention to styling it, or maybe it’s on purpose, maybe he pays too much attention to styling it. the way he wore something so simple, yet so telling about himself, the way he awkwardly places the chess piece back on the board on the spot he wanted to. he assumes the conversation is over, so he moves to the opposite side of the board to make a move against his own. 
“are you in the chess club?” you take a step closer, and he perks up, hand ghosting over the piece once more. 
luke doesn’t say anything, his lips twitch around words that don’t come out. your brother speaks in his place, “he’s the president, he’s a fucking grandmaster.”
luke just awkwardly laughs, moving his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes moving from the board to you, then to your brother, “i’m not like— actually the president,” another awkward, short chuckle, “i just— like.. um.. play a lot, i guess.” 
“you are the president, dude,” your brother corrects, being insufferable as he always is. 
but luke puts up with it, then you ask another question, “what do you major in?” 
“literature,” luke responds for himself this time, finally able to move his hand to make a proper move on the chess board, before mumbling, “mostly classic.” 
“you’re kidding, i am too, how have i not seen you before?” 
luke’s eyes finally meet yours, now, pausing on your eyes, then resuming down the shape of your face, memorizing each feature, the curve of your lashes, the shape of your lips— he swallows thickly. 
“i just— sit in the back.. and go to my dorm— as soon as class ends,” there’s that awkward, short chuckle again. 
“have you finished the paper?” 
luke nods, and that’s when your brother finally gets a bright idea. 
“you should help her, luke, with the work.” 
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
that’s how it all started, with a simple suggestion, that’s when you came to the dorm more often, when he began to notice that you were actually in his classes, and when you realized he had an awful staring problem. he thought he was slick with it too, letting his eyes move around the room for a mere.. twenty seconds before they finally snap to you, and from there, they stay, until you finally return the gaze and he’s immediately nervously looking away. 
he hardly speaks to you, unless your brother urges him to, and he’s always avoiding looking at you when he speaks, stumbling over words, pausing in sentences to catch his losing breath. he was a complete and utter loser, terrible when it came to socializing, even worse when it’s with girls. with you, it somehow seemed to worsen. 
“am i the first girl you’ve ever talked to?” you ask once, far too blunt for your own liking, you didn’t mean to really say it, it kind of just came out when seeing how much his leg bounced under the table with nervousness, nearly sweating himself to death under your gaze. 
sweat beads down his temple when his eyes flutter up to meet yours, moving from the romeo and juliet book in his hands. isn’t it so ironic that he had just gotten done reading the scene in which romeo says, “did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! for i ne'er saw true beauty till this night,” when seeing juliet for the first time? truly, it isn’t the first time he saw you, but it’s night, and you are beautiful. truly, utterly, “beautiful.” 
“what?” 
oh, oh my god. saliva bubbles in his mouth, sour saliva, and he gulps it down, hoping it would somehow be a form of poison that would wake him from this nightmare. does he say what he meant? that he was thinking out loud? that he thinks you’re beautiful? or should he deny it? deny. he bursts into awkward laughs, “what— what do you mean— i.. i didn’t even say anything.. ha, haha.” 
“why are you acting like that?” your brows furrow. 
“like what?” 
“like you’re hiding something.” 
his breathing only shakes anymore, “i’m not hiding anything.. that’s like— a wild accusation.” 
“it’s not an accusation, i’m just saying,” you frown at him. 
his adam’s apple bobs with another swallow, “okay but like—“ 
“why are you harassing him?” your brother sighs, tired how much you press luke. 
“i’m not— whatever, i was asking you— am i the first girl you’ve ever spoken to?” 
your brother barks out a laugh, and luke’s eyes fall back down to the book in his hands. did not having proper conversations with women make him any less? romeo grabbed juliet’s hand once, and the first words he uttered to her was a promise to redeem himself if his hand was too unworthy to be touching her holy one. parallels sear in his mind, and he just mumbles a, “not really.” 
he has spoken to women before, sure, small greetings, maybe even the slightest indulgence of conversation— but luke keeps to himself, and to be honest, he was a man used to running from women, as he did from his mother. he grew up being afraid of women, well, afraid isn’t the proper word, intimidated is better, and he just decided to avoid them as much as possible. 
though, no matter how much he tries to avoid you, you’re always there, in his sight, in his mind. maybe it’s a disgrace, like romeo holding juliet’s hand, for him to even be thinking of you, looking at you— you were a goddess that offered a man on his knees the slightest bit of your grace, and now he was hooked. 
it was pathetic, really, how he anticipated every time he suspected you would be over, how his eyes always found their way to you in class, how he made sure to purposefully walk past you in the lunchroom on the days he went, which was oddly more now. 
a man who is still a virgin to adore a girl far too good for him, he is hopeless. 
“it’s okay if i am,” you adjust, okay, there might be a little hope, “anyway, how do you like romeo and juliet?” 
“it’s pretty nice—“ he notices the way your face perks up in shock, “kind of, i don’t know.” 
“i think it’s a bore, i’m sure the movie is much better.” 
“we should watch the movie— um.. together, sometime.” 
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
if luke was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely mean to say it, and as soon as you left the dorm, he nearly doubled over with shock at his own words, and even more shock at the fact that you agreed. not only did you agree, you actually came, and it was just you and him. your brother was off at some frat party, again, and he had left luke completely alone with you, even when luke begged him not to. 
“you’re kidding, dude, i’m like— horrified of her,” luke frowns at your brother. 
“you need exposure therapy, or some shit, call me your therapist.” 
“you’re a shit therapist,” luke sighs, rubbing his temples. 
“and you need to grow some balls.” 
so, your brother left him, and now luke’s awkwardly standing with you at his door - step, staring at him expectantly, his lips twitch around so many possible words, possible sentences, and all that comes out is, “hey.” 
he’s been staring for you for at least a minute, and all he can say is hey. your lips curve to an amused smile, “hi, luke.” 
“um— you can come in, if you.. want, ‘course.” he moves out the way to let you in, watching you step past him so he can close the door. 
“i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to,” you remark as if it’s the obvious, mostly because it is. 
when romeo stood underneath juliet’s balcony, he praised how captivating she was, considers her as glorious as an angel, a winged messenger above his head. in his own words : 
“one who makes mortals fall onto their backs to gaze up in awe as the angel strides across the clouds and sails through the air.”
consider luke on his back now, staring up at the stars in your eyes, the halo that shines above your head, the wings that flap with every stride you make— a goddess, an angel, venus incarnate, right before his eyes, staring at him like he had something deeply wrong with him. wait. he blinks a few times, and his eyes refocus onto your confused face. 
“are you okay, luke?” 
he quickly clears his throat, “yeah, yeah— duh, ‘course i am, uh.. we should,” he moves to the table in which his laptop was on, “watch the movie, yeah? ‘ts on my.. laptop, if you don’t mind.” 
“i don’t, at all,” you move to sit next to him on the couch in front of the table, watching the veins in his hands pulse, palms sweaty when he moves to open his laptop, shifting a few tabs and pressing a few keys until he mumbles a small okay and presses the space button. 
moaning. that’s all you hear, the sound of skin slapping, ah ah— oh fuck mmph you’re so b— luke slams the laptop shut. 
dear god, save him now. 
he can’t even bring himself to look at you, the sweat on his palms only worsens and spreads onto the top of the laptop as he smoothes his hands across it, replaying the scene a million times in his mind. to his surprise, you giggle, “you watch porn?” 
he’s quick to awkwardly scoff out a short laugh, “yeah— i mean, everyone does.. but like.. i don’t watch it— that much.” 
your finger moves to run along the vein on his arm, feeling him shudder under your touch, yet he doesn’t want you to stop, even the slightest touch makes his dick twitch in his pants, “are you a virgin, luke?” 
he inhales sharply, “y-yeah..” 
“do you want to have sex?” you lean the tiniest bit closer. 
he pauses, “yes.. of course—“ 
“with me?” 
“yes.” he responds quick, too fucking quick, it must’ve been at most a second after you said it for him to respond. the truth stings his tongue, to finally be able to say it out loud, how much he had fantasized about you in the late of night, even sneaking off to the bathrooms so his hand can dip underneath his waistband when he thinks about the times you’ve worn a tight shirt that frames your tits far too well. 
but it was wrong, wasn’t it? you were a goddess, on a pedestal, and he was merely just a man, staring up at your statue in the hopes that you would notice him one day. forbidden, possibly, but all those thoughts leave his mind when his eyes move from the finger tracing up his bicep to your neck, then your lips, then your eyes. 
“please tell me you’ve kissed before.” 
“yeah.. yeah— i have,” a playground kiss counts, right?
it seems to when your lips fall against his own, the kiss was so gentle, until he dared to kiss you back, then it got hungry, mostly on his end. he kissed you like a starving man, nearly devouring you but at the same time, being horrified to. your tongue finds it’s way into his mouth, and to your surprise, he whimpers against your lips.
his hands are hesitant, unsure of where to go, does he touch your arm? your shoulder? your waist? he doesn’t want to push anything, so the waist seems far too much, his hands awkwardly place themselves on your arm, in a very weird position. 
“have you touched a girl before?” 
his lips are flushed from the kiss, eyes glazing over the position of his hands, and he quickly moves them off, “sorry— well, i just.. um.. didn’t want to push anything.” 
“you can,” you reassure, but his hands still hesitate, the flesh of a goddess, to be touched by someone so inexperienced. was he really worth it? any of it? to even be in your presence was a blessing, and it was still taking him forever to register the fact that you had actually kissed him, prayers passed through your lips into his. 
“are you sure?” 
“‘course i am.” 
it still took luke some getting used to, having you straddle his lap, you knew so much, it felt like more than just an honor to have you so close to him. his eyes flicked from your own to your lips, then to your tits, the low v - cut showing off your cleavage perfectly. and he looked like a complete deer in headlights, staring at the flesh pushed together between the window of clothing. you smile at his lack of self control, feeling the way his dick throbs underneath his pants, right against your ass, “you can touch them.” 
“wha— nono, ‘ts okay— i just..” he trails off, sweaty palms moving past you to slide across his knees. 
“really, luke, you can— why don’t i just..” you move to take off your shirt, his eyes immediately catching on to the lace of your bra, the way your tits are practically spilling out of it, all until you take off your bra as well and they immediately fall out. 
his hand twitches around nothing, desperately wondering what it must feel like to have your flesh underneath his palm, fingers curling around the plush of it. it seems you must’ve heard his prayers when you move to take his hands, pulling them back to press against your tits. 
soft, that’s his first thought, sweat sticks to your skin when his fingers curve around the flesh, gripping it ever so gently. praises spill from his lips almost immediately, thoughts he had since the day he saw you, finally being spoken, “y’re beautiful— fuck, i’ve always.. always wanted to— do this..” 
you smile so sweet at him, nectar nearly drips off your teeth, “can i ride you, luke?” 
his eyes finally meet yours, brows furrowing for a mere second, “huh— oh, oh.. yeah, ‘course you can.” 
you didn’t expect him to have a big, no matter how cruel that sounds, you had heard rumors of nerds with big dicks, but sought to never believe it until you saw it, and good fucking lord you saw it. as soon as his dick springs out from the pants and boxers you were tugging down, luke’s hands mindlessly moved to your waist, your eyes widen. 
no fucking way. he has to be.. six? seven inches, at least. slightly girthy too, he wasn’t all just length, and precum was beading from his red tip. he immediately inhales sharply when your fingers graze his dick, nervous under your gaze, “is it too small— i.. i’m sorry—“ 
“too small?” you scoff playfully at his scared expression, worried of what you think, “this might be the biggest dick i’ve ever seen, luke.” 
“that’s— a good thing.. right?” 
“obviously, god, it better fit,” this is the first time you’ve ever been concerned about whether or not a dick will fit, luke stiffens when you spit on your palm, pressing it to his dick and wettening it as you jerk him off, his response is immediate, carefully gripping at your skin and pressing his lips together to muffle his whimpers. 
luke had jerked of many, many times, but it never felt as good as this. 
“fuck—“ he grunts out, already far too close from just a simple hand movements. 
you immediately stop, picking up on his nearing orgasm from the way his hips kept bucking up into your hands, pathetic whines slipping past his lips, but it was just so cute. the cutest thing, though, was his face when he got the first look at your vagina, he looked like a man staring at a piece of art he had admired. and this was art, sex was, you were, everything about you, it felt so sacred. 
his lashes flutter when you take his hand, guiding it to your sopping cunt, allowing him to feel the wetness that was nearly pouring from you. like nectar from a fountain, it coated his fingertips when he touched you, his eyes focused onto your face, making sure that he was doing it right. he notices the way you gasp when his fingertips brush against your clit, so he presses against it again, and again. 
he follows everything he has seen in pornos, spreading your folds, fingers grazing past your entrance, rubbing your clit— but he’s lost when you wave him off before he can finger you to prep you for his dick, wasn’t that something people did? “but don’t you…” 
“it’ll fit,” you mumble back, relying on how wet you are to make it easier. 
he watches the way your jaw falls when you move to press his tip against your entrance, allowing the tip to push into you and it’s already too big. his eyes widen at the feeling of your walls clenching around his tip, unable to hold back the noises that slip from his own lips. 
“you’re like— the.. the girl of my dr— fuck— dreams,” luke hushed out between his mess of moans and grunts, he wondered if romeo ever felt this way when he kissed juliet for the first time, the sort of electric rush that riddled his bones, it felt unreal. you were a dream incarnate, one luke was always haunted with, the woman that would show up when his eyes would close at night, and now you were on his lap, sinking down on his dick. 
“am i? really?” you question, inhaling sharply when you finally reach the base of his cock. for some odd reason, you didn’t believe you were all he was putting you up to be, and that made him sick— how could you think of yourself as any less? you were perfect, a vision, to be fair, luke would adore you even if you were an enemy, just like romeo and juliet. 
he would stand at your balcony, stare at you from across the ballroom, kiss your knuckles, kiss you— he would do it all. he might even drink poison just to spend eternity with you. 
“yes, yes— are you.. kidding? mmph.. fuck— you’re like.. a fuckin’ goddess,” it comes out like a prayer, as if he was on his knees at your altar, kissing your legs, and whispering worshipping words. 
to nobody’s surprise, luke doesn’t last long at all when you’re bouncing on his cock, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from his throbbing cock by pawing at your tits, or moving to kiss you, his orgasm was just too close. “‘m g’na.. please.. g’na cum.. mmphh.. fuck!” 
when he does cum, you had pulled off him, jerking him off, and he’s practically writhing, a whimpering and damn near crying mess. and once he’s helped you to your orgasm as well, you’re falling into his arms, finding a safe - haven in how he smells like old books, mint, and cheap cologne. 
two star crossed lovers, one capulet, one montague. 
“these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. which, as they kiss, consume.” — romeo and juliet, act two, scene six.
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stairain · 11 months ago
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Conditioned response
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You knew training someone like a dog wasn't the most ethical, but Spencer just makes it too easy to pass up.
Warnings: Sub Spencer, Mean reader, conditioning, forced orgasm, cumming in pants, dry orgasm, crying, begging, manipulation, ropes. 
WC: 1.2K
Training Spencer to cum on command was a labor of love. Having spent hours studying Pavlov and Skinner just to be able to make a  mess of your poor boyfriend on whim.
Spencer was almost unrecognizable, his face a deep shade of red and pink, slathered in a dripping layer of sweat, and a puddle of his own spend at his feet. 
Throwing his head back and swallowing breathlessly, he looks to you and pleads.
“P-Please—Stop. Can we stop, please?”
His rug burned wrists desperately trembling in their binds as he tries so hard to be good for you. It’s wearing him down, you’ve made him cum at least three times now simply by the snap of your fingers. 
It wasn’t this easy at first, and it didn’t even register what you were doing when you finally gave him permission to cum and just so happened to snap at the same time. 
No, it took a while. After the next few times, it confused him, he ignored it, but then it became an expectation to him. 
Whenever your hand was tightly wound against the sensitive tip of his dripping cock, he’d look to you with those desperate pleading eyes before mustering up the courage to beg for release. 
After he’d ask, he wouldn’t wait for your call, no, instead he’d look down at wherever your free hand was. 
As a man of extensive knowledge, especially to things pertaining something as simple as conditioning, Spencer knew these things worked. 
He just hadn’t even expected himself to be the lab rat in your little experiment. 
But now, you’d find him adjusting just fine. At least to your standards. 
As soon as he arrived home, you had dragged him to the garage. He’d made no attempt to stop you, even as you sat him down on a cold metal chair. 
He didn’t even raise an eyebrow when you began to tie him to aforementioned chair. 
Spencer knew better than to question you, and he knew better than to speak without being spoken to. So when he dared open his mouth to talk, you’d quickly snapped your fingers, the sound reverberating through the empty, cold garage. 
Whatever word he tried to say had been quickly replaced with a weak whimper. You let out a small huff of amusement, you’d expected this. 
The dull brown cotton of his slacks were out to get him, he was convinced. You’d had enough of an ego boost knowing he just came untouched, but as the light fabric began to darken as it soaked with semen, you just couldn’t help yourself. 
“Look at you, making a mess so easily.”
You almost scoff, your words taunting and mean.  This was your own doing, how could you possibly blame him for this? But you did anyways, and he hung his head in shame as he tried to ignore the sticky spend seeping into his briefs. 
“I-I’m sorry, couldn’t help it.” 
It’s recommended to ask for permission before you beg for forgiveness, but you made sure he’d never be able to attempt the former. 
“Tell me what you know about counterconditioning, Spence.”
You say as you crouch down in front of him, granting the littlest bit of kindness as you start to undress him and rid him of his soiled clothes. 
The brunet stumbles over his words at first, but answers nonetheless. 
“I-It’s a way to reverse the effects of classical conditioning, associating a set conditioned response—“
You snap. He cums.
Spencer almost doubles over in shock as he shoots another load of sticky seed into his pants. 
“With another un—fuck—unconditioned stimulus.” 
You nod as you pull his cum drenched briefs and pants down his legs, and look up to him with eyes that render him absolutely useless. 
“And how would I do that, to stop this?”
You emphasize your question with the swipe of your fingers across his slick covered tip. His thighs twitch around your head and he licks his lips, trying to take back what little composure he’s ever had.
“Y-You could do that–“ His eyes flicker down to where you’re touching his cock “A-And stop snapping. E-Eventually there won’t be an association between the stimuli.” 
Spencer speaks with an urgency that’s only found in those who know they’re done for. 
“But you don’t want that, do you?”
Your voice drips in a malicious seduction, tilting your head to the side as if to feign an innocence only he should have. 
It doesn’t take more than a second for him to shake his head. Even with his cock aching and his thighs sticky, his need to obey you was stronger than the pain of his self. 
So when you smile up at him, looking genuinely proud, it makes the ache worth it. He smiles back, albeit crooked and broken. 
The moment doesn’t last long, of course it doesn’t. As soon as he saw you raise your hand and press your fingers together, his eyebrows wrung together and his thighs quickly shut. 
It was fascinating, it was as if his body just couldn’t stop itself. Even as only a few spurts shot out of his throbbing cock. Thick white drops of cum dripped down the veiny shaft, falling all the day down his balls and onto the chair beneath him. 
Spencer throws his head back and lets out a strained moan, one that was full of pain and little pleasure. 
It hurt so badly, and he could barely keep up. You were simply torturing him because you could.
“I-I can’t, please.”
He begs, shaking his head when you stand up from your knelt position and look down on him like he was a filthy animal. 
“I’ve only touched you once, and here you are cumming without my permission three times. How selfish.”
You degrade him, reducing him to the villain in the scenario. Tears begin to stream down his face and he can feel his heart twisting in his chest. 
You’re right, he’s failed you more times than acceptable. He should feel ashamed.
“I-I know, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Spencer practically sobs, his entire body trembles as it aches with the aftershocks of three forced orgasms. 
A small huff expels from your nose and you shake your head. It was unfair, really, how easily manipulated he was. 
It was your fault after all, but what was it worth if not the satisfaction of reducing this know-it-all of a man down to desperate pleads and animal-esque behavior? 
You’ve got your hand held up behind your back, he knows it. He knows you too well to ever even entertain the idea you’d ever listen to him, but he’s hopeless enough to try anyways. 
A sob wrecks through his throat and he feels as though he can barely breathe. 
“P-Please—Stop. Can we stop, please? I-I can’t do this anymore.” 
It’s cruel, the way you laugh in his face as he drowns in his tears. How foolish of him to even ask.
Maybe you were being a touch too cruel, but it was all worth it the moment you saw genuine fear fill his eyes and the slight shake of his head as he begged you one last time to end it. 
But he knew better, and he couldn’t help himself as the hand behind your back echoed a snap right through his ears and out his length. 
You see the way his mouth drops open in a shrill cry, and relish in the sight of nothing coming out of his poor cock in a torturous dry orgasm.
His body’s given you everything it possibly can, and yet, you just can’t help yourself. 
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