#I have less time to write than ever before

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 3

Synopsis: A cancelled live performance and a wave of demonic energy, pushes our girl to her breaking point. All the while her new acquaintance wishes to hear that voice sing once again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: Medicated Drug, Panic/Anxiety Attack

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Quite literally thank you guys enough for your support for reading this fic. Also this is just my interpretation of the Saja Boys bc they're basically just their stereotypes in the movie. The interpretations are based off on how other fics write them.

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A couple days have passed since (Y/N)‘s encounter with Jinu, she’s had plenty of work to fill her time. Too much in her opinion. The busy schedules and organising interviews and shows for the girls to appear in, not to mention preparing for the live performance coming. Golden featured more of her singing which is a problem for her at the moment.

Her hands won’t stop shaking. The bags under her eyes were deeper than before. Faint red pink lines were forming on her neck and arms from her constant scratching nails. Her eyes twitched whenever she’s met with a bright screen.

She’s at her breaking point.

Tonight is the first live performance and she’s been working nonstop. Bobby was nothing like her current state, though he’s been doing this longer than her. He’s much more relaxed and significantly less stressed than her. But he’s not the one who also does the live backing vocals.

Ever since meeting Jinu, she felt her nerves like usual when talking, but she was happy in the moment for an unknown reason. Maybe it’s because someone acknowledged her singing outside of her space. Perhaps it was a chance of meeting someone new who isn’t familiar as her being a manager for HUNTR/X.

Who knows.

(Y/N) just knows that she wants outside of her bubble.

Interrupting her thoughts was Bobby who came to her side, with a water bottle in hand. “You don’t seem to be going well (Y/N). Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Bobby worriedly questions.

Time was moving way too fast. It was already rehearsing time for the show.

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine Bobby! Thanks for the water, I’ll tell the girls their on in five!” Quickly grabbing them water and speed walking away as fast as she can.

Pulling along her collared shirt trying to free up more air in her lungs. All the air she was breathing escaped way too quickly. Her chest was hurting like she was hit by a truck.

‘It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine! Just one performance.’

(Y/N) knows they’re eager to turn the honmoon gold, but the world isn't ending anytime soon. A break should be reasonable enough as it is! For gods sake they JUST finished a tour literally a couple DAYS ago.

Take. A. Break.

‘Please….for me I beg…’

Reaching their changing rooms she gently knocks on the door. Hearing a small noise coming and the rattles of the handle, she’s met with the wondering familiar eyes of Zoey and Mira.

“(Y/N)! What’s up!” Zoey greets her as she lunges herself at her body. Encasing her in a tight hug. Thrusted to wake up with her being crushed by the ever sweet hunter. “Zoey! You’re crushing her!” Mira thankfully ushers Zoey to let go. Taking deep breathes to regain her lost oxygen, she glared at the sweet girl, only to be unseen by her.

"*Huff* You're on in five *huff.* Can you relay that to Rumi? *huff* I need to prepare myself."

"Okay. But are you alright? You haven't spoken to us in a while. Since the tour ended. We've been thinking that we should go to dinner sometime, if you're up for it." Mira questions, picking up on the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"We're just worried about you. You kinda avoiding us. W-We just want you to be okay! We can watch some turtle videos if you'd like? Something for us to unwind to. You don't have to worry about singing for a while once this is over."

"Yeah sure sure. Yeah. I'm fine. Just, get ready for the show. Don't worry about me. My voice is fine."

Staggering out immediately after, their worried comments falling on deaf ears.

Hurriedly speed walking towards one of the sound guys and taking a microphone for herself. Digging into one of her pockets and pulling out a container with small individual capsules. Popping one open and picking out a pill inside before throwing it in her mouth. Snapping the water open and chugging half of the bottle to push down the medication.

Her breathing began to calm and her mind felt clearer. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking. A strange mix of calm and nerves waring in her mind and body. Pushing through those feelings and thoughts, her ears pick up the instrumental beginning to play, she puts the mic near her lips.

"I was a ghost, I was alone (Hah)"

"Eoduwojin (Hah) abgilsog-e (Ah)"

"Given the throne I didn't know (Hah) how to believe (Hah)"

"I was the queen that I'm meant to be (Ah)"

Rumi's voice unnerving and only building up to more for later. (Y/N) breathily adding to her words and adlibbing along.

"I lived two lives, tried to play both sides"

"But I couldn't find my own place"

"Called a problem child 'cause I got too wild"

"But now that's how I'm getting paid, kkeut-eobs-psi on stage"

Layering her voice to harmonise with the girls like usual. Holding back until later.

"I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be"

"We're dreamin' hard, we came so far"

"Now I believe"

Dragging her voice along for the build up, but it more vocal in volume than usual.

"We're goin' up, up, up"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna bе golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaеjil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

Echoing the words of Rumi and her voice. She continues to push.

"Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be~"

"Oh, our time, no fear, no lies"

"That's who we're born to be~!"

Raising her voice high to match Rumi but ends up subtly going higher than her. Quickly realising her mistake and at the same speed pushing down her loaded hurls of self-deprecation.

"Waited so long to break these walls down"

"To wake up and feel like me"

"Put these patterns all in the past now"

"And finally live like the girl they all see"

Her silence in the verse made her vulnerable to her deprecating voices in her head. Just enough for a burning sensation to tingle at the sides of her mouth and neck.

Whispering a stream of pleas to quiet her mind.

"No more hiding, I'll be shining"

"Like I'm born to be"

"'Cause we are hunters, voices strong"

"And I know I believe~"

Collecting herself again with continuously shaking hands.

"We're goin' up, up, up!"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaejil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

'When does this end....'

"Oh, I'm done hidin', now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to be~!"

"Oh, our time, no fears, no lies"

"That's who we're born to b-"

'Huh?'

The music suddenly stops as she abruptly ends her note to avoid being heard. Collapsing to her knees and clawing at her neck as the burning turned into an itching sensation.

She can hear Bobby and Mira worrying about Rumi, while she dismisses and tells them to restart the part.

Scrambling up to her feet and halts her scratching with the mic at her lips again.

"I'm done hiding"

"Now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to b- (cough)"

Stopping her voice and falling to her knees again. A whirling nauseating pain flows through her head. Gripping her temples and clawing down her face to the added pressure.

Just picking up that Rumi wanted to take five, her heart raced even faster.

She couldn't hear anything around her. A white ringing noise filling her ears. Clawing at her ears with her breathing hastening in speed.

"Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! Shut up be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Go away. Go away... (hick)"

A waterfall of tears pour down her face as she quietly sobs, while hyperventilating through her tight chest. Her clawing actions stop at her neck, feeling the sweat sticking to her skin like slime.

The space was unnaturally empty for a busy stage trying to ready for a live performance.

Nobody to see the jagged patterns clawing at her neck. Reaching its way over her mouth.

Scratching and scratching at the patterns while her tears begin to extinguish the burning feeling every time it drips down her chin.

But she suddenly stops.

A silencing sensation abruptly halts her breakdown.

Something demonic was sent through the honmoon.

————————————————————

Her prays were finally met when she heard that Bobby cancelled the performance that night. Visualising her appearance was enough for her to text Bobby about leaving early. She felt horrible to leave everything for Bobby to handle.

But she was in absolutely no condition to help.

Making her own way back to the HUNTR/X tower, she sped her way towards her bathroom. Finally taking a look at herself in the mirror.

'Its still you. At least...'

Chuckling to herself and tracing her lips and along the lightning like patterns. Her usually shaggy short (f/c) hair being an absolute mess with baby hairs sticking to her face around her eyes and cheeks. Peaking through her bangs, staring back at her was a prominent gold and (f/c) tired gaze. The red veins on her sclera being bright and obvious to her crying fit earlier. The faint purple patterns reaching down to her neck, wrapping around the area were her vocal cords are.

Unbuttoning her top and disrobing her wrinkled clothes, discarding them in on the floor. Ruffling her hair and switching on her shower. Dowsing her body with cold water and washing away her tear stained cheeks.

Her first moment of silence since her time at the park.

'I wonder how Jinu is doing...'

(Y/N) has been thinking of the demon, why he was on the surface in the first place. If she considered demons nature, it wouldn't be anything good.

But she had a feeling that's not the only reason being here.

Granted she has no explanation for her reason. And additionally, she knows nothing about Jinu. He just awkwardly complimented her voice and she's the one who left early and brushed off his want for conversation.

'Damn it all! Stupid anxiety!'

Mentally cursing herself aside, she turns off her shower and steps out to wrap her body in a towel.

*Ping!*

She heard her phone alert go off. Drying off her body and stepping into her bedroom, she checked her messages and wasn't sure what to really do.

Zoey: Hey (Y/N)! We're going out for dinner since Rumi came back :D We'll save you a seat don't worry! Zoey: XXX-XXX-XXXX

(Y/N) felt no energy to go out with the girls. But she'll admit, she is worried for Rumi.

Her voice cracking pretty recently is probably making her even more stressed. Perhaps the honmoon turning gold is more important to her than she thought.

But she isn't sure if she's fit to go comfort Rumi.

Her body just feels drained.

"(sigh) What I do for these girls."

Rummaging through her cupboard and lazily throwing on a hoodie and pants. Roughly brushing her hair to to seem less messy and throwing on a pair of sneakers. Grabbing nothing else but her phone.

Entering the streets of Seoul and ignoring the slide comments of some about the cancelled show.

She felt reallllly bad for Bobby.

She's supposed to be one of the managers, but here she is wandering through the night streets and making her way to the girls. Not even bothering throwing her hoodie on because she was just tired.

Not able to pay attention to her surroundings.

*Bump!*

“Oof!” Staggering on her feet she turns around to meet the eyes of the other.

But a gentle smile meets her tiresome face, belonging to the familiar demon and his dreamy brown eyes.

”Jinu.”

”(Y/N)…”

Said demon felt relief to see her again. Her voice has been living in his mind rent free. It made him feel like a person again. Like he wasn’t a being that feeds of the souls and the shame he too feels from his previous actions.

He wants to hear her sing again.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions tiredly rubbing her temples. “I wanted to see you again.“ Jinu answers without a doubt. Though he can’t exactly be honest with her. He doesn’t even know if she’s a hunter, or whether once she knows his plan, if she’ll just slice him without hesitation.

But whether she’s a hunter or not, he still wants to see her.

”That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? W-We just met a couple days ago.” (Y/N) blankly states. Even though she wanted to see him again, it was still weird in her head. Jinu on the other hand sweat dropped at her statement.

”One can say that, but I don’t see it that way.” His response wasn’t what she imagined. But to be fair, she wasn’t sure what to think of him. “Ever since I heard you sing, I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. It’s made me…. want to see you again…” Jinu tried to describe how he felt, but even he couldn’t explain it using words.

He just felt comforted yet haunted by her tone and song.

It made him forget.

And it made him curiously want more.

”Hmm…if that’s how you feel.” (Y/N) shrugs her shoulders while muttering to herself. It feels weird to hear someone compliment her, or at least try to.

“But to be fair myself, I liked our little chat before. Even if it wasn’t much.” Her anxiety was subsiding unnaturally. She really did like being in Jinu’s presence.

That little statement was enough for Jinu to look at her like an excited puppy. "Perhaps.....maybe...we could talk more?" The words felt foreign from her mouth, her anxiety still present that just makes her second guess what to say. Nervously scratching the back of her neck.

Jinu gleams at her. "Then, why don't we go now?"

(Y/N) whips her head at him again with a widened expression.

Now? She can't. The girls are waiting for her, she has to know what happened. Something spread a demonic energy through the honmoon. And last she checked, demons don't do that. A tare feels different than what that was.

Whether she likes it or not...

She's considered a hunter.

"Sorry Jinu, I actually have som-"

"Jinu! Buddy, where have you been?"

Cutting her off was the sound of a deeper voice coming from behind Jinu.

Glancing up she catches four figures gathering behind the dreamboat. Two of them had pink hair but in different cuts and hairstyles, while the another had bright cyan underneath a yellow hat and the last having long silver grey with bangs that covered his eyes.

Their faces were alluring. Sculpted by the gods with unfair favouritism. Going all the way down to their bodies and from the sound of it, their voices too. Though even for (Y/N), they seemed way too perfect to be human.

'A group of demons? This can't be for a good reason...'

In the back of her mind, (Y/N) didn't want to fully trust Jinu. His random purpose on the surface is enough to justify her lingering doubts. But she pushed them aside just because she genuinely enjoyed the short time they had talking. Even if it was mainly him trying to talk to her.

The group of boys seemed to rag on Jinu about something like 'dancing' and 'practice.' Which only brought one answer to her mind.

"Are you guys dance training for something?"

Her voice bringing on five sets of eyes on herself. The one with the longer pink hair smirked upon meeting her questioning gaze, unnoting her own flinching back into herself.

"Why yes, are you curious?" He approached closer into her space, shivering at his invasion and taking a small step back to create distance. Jinu notices her uncomfortable expression, coming up to the pink headed demon to prevent going forward.

"Romance, you're making her uncomfortable." Halting his friends actions made the now named 'Romance' stare at him with a bit of surprise. Before Jinu turns his attention back on (Y/N) with a confident smile.

"We are actually practicing. We're debuting as a new boy group tomorrow." His answer brought more surprise to (Y/N)'s face.

"A boy band? I mean....you have the looks for it, can't say anything about everything else." She was just muttering to herself at this point. But Jinu heard what she was saying, taking it as a good sign for him.

"How about you come watch us perform tomorrow."

"Hmm? You sure?"

"Of course, we'll save a special spot just for you."

Well....considering that the girls are probably gonna have the day off tomorrow because of the cancelled show, it'll be good to keep an eye on these demon boys.

As long as they aren't hurting people, she has no reason to send them back.

But another reason popped into her head.

Sighing to herself she just hums and nods her head. "Sure. Why not?"

Jinu's eyes lighted up like fireworks at her response, internally pumping his fist in succession.

"Great! Here's a flyer for tomorrow." Handing her a pretty pastel flyer with the name 'Saja Boys' on the front with a logo of a lion plastered on the centre.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then." Gently smiling at them before waving a hand and continuing her walk.

Unbeknownst to her, the Saja Boys had differentiating reactions and thoughts.

They were quite intrigued by her. Jinu hasn't been fully present since his meeting with this girl, which got the others curious. He said he couldn't describe the feelings that ignited inside when he heard the girl sing.

Baby and Mystery mainly brushed it off and paid no mind to it. While Abby and Romance were slightly interested but never thought about it further.

That is until they did meet.

And my oh my...

They kinda understood?

(Y/N) from a first glance appeared quite pretty if Romance said so himself. Her baggy attire making her more relaxed and casual than the dolled up girls that he saw around before. But even that extenuated her natural beauty. But her speaking voice seemed to make Romance understand Jinu's fixation just a little bit more. Something melodic about her undertone drew his mind to a strange white noise. It wasn't anything mind numbing or dreadfully empty, it was calming.

Mystery isn't one for speaking but his heart skipped a beat hearing her casually talk. That haunting tone in her voice peaked his interest out of curiosity. But what caught him most was her eyes. A (f/c) gaze with a rim of gold around her iris. How come Jinu didn't mention that?

Abby was curious for sure about this (Y/N) chick. Wondering what the deal is with her said voice. But he was quite intrigued upon meeting the quietly shy girl. How can such a beautifully described voice come out of her?

Baby wasn't listening majority of the time Jinu was yapping about this girl. What was so important that it took that much brain space in that head of his, to the point that it looked like he was in a trance. But even meeting the girl herself, he'd rather see how things play out now that he himself has caught a glimpse of what is so intriguing.

Oh what will happen indeed...

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Edit: Fun fact, the whole panic attack part is based of one that happened to me. My whole anxiety back when I was in school basically inspired this idea in the first place. Also I have no idea why I gave Romance more time than the others, it just happened |(￣3￣)|

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd

[gingerteawrites]

SACCHARINE: LOVE AND DEEPSPACE ZAYNE

A/N: I actually started laughing like a supervillain when I thought of this earlier today, so I had to get to writing. Damn, two Zayne pieces in less than 24hours... I fear y'all are witnessing me develop a new hyperfixation.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It is a well-known fact that Zayne is not huge on pda. Or most things that constitute the classic 'lovey-dovey' image that certain couples are obsessed with.

In fact, when asked, he would probably say something along the lines of:

"I do not feel the need to perform my affection in front of masses, ____. Me being by your side is proof enough that I am yours."

His touch while you are in public is very subtle. Usually limited to a guiding hand on the small of your back while navigating crowded spaces. Or maybe casually brushing your hair out of your face and adjusting the collar of your shirt.

You know the kind of man you're dating, so you're grateful for these small but meaningful gestures. Even if sometimes they leave you wanting more. You joke about it sometimes, how it feels like touches shared with him are always earned. Knowing that it is only when you have meticulously eroded at the ice cold barrier of his self-control that he'll pull you aside to see if you can make good on all your brazen advances.

Zayne is a private man, so of course, more daring touches are reserved for more private settings. Carefully kept behind closed doors. Away from imprudent gazes and unwanted attention. He likes having you right where he wants, and knowing exactly how to make you unravel.

Now, imagine your suprise when you're out at Destiny Cafe one day with him on a lunch date. A casual thing because both of you had an hour free before returning to work. And he suddenly pulls you in by the chin to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You literally feel your brain short-circuit when his lips glide against yours with practiced ease, and the second his tongue starts pushing against your lips, your hunter's watch starts beeping with a health alert.

In a desperate attempt to not make an embarassing sound, you push on his chest to create some distance. You're literally clutching your pearls, watching the man who pulls back with a measured expression —as if he had not just almost sent you into cardiac arrest— his tongue swiping over his lips one last time.

"What was that for???" you whisper-yell, eyes blown wide and entire body still warm from the touch. The unfamiliarity of it all made you feel like his actions were beyond scandalous. What had gotten into him?

"I just wanted a taste," his voice is even, speaking the words as if they were the most matter-of-fact thing ever.

"What?" your brows twist with confusion and he points down to the plate of mango tiramisu that you had wolfed down mere moments before.

"I didn't have a chance to try it, and I just wanted a taste," he reiterates, a pleased smile painting his lips.

As it turns out, eating sweets makes your lips suddenly irresistible to the man. So much so that he is ready to abandon his usual inhibitions.

You may or may not have started carrying candy around to entice your dear partner... It's not everyday that one discovers Dr. Zayne's weaknesses, after all.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[kxsagi]

hey hey !! 😋

wanted to request this before you don't take requests anymore !! (thank you for your hard work you're my favorite writer (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠))

do u think you could write Sae x reader where reader has to tutor Sae on his academics since it's been stated that Sae literally knows NOTHING besides soccer loll,, you can make them in a relationship or pre-relationship whatever you feel like writing 😋

thanks!!

“𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲(𝐨𝐮)”

a/n: THANK YOU SMMM, SENDING SO MUCH LOVE TO YOU IN RETURN AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! <333

ac goes to katstrife on X!

sae itoshi knows exactly three things. 

one: soccer. 

two: how to give people the cold shoulder. 

three: that this stupid math assignment should be illegal. 

he stares blankly at the worksheet in front of him, dead-eyed like he’s preparing to sue the education system for emotional damages. you, sitting across from him in the school library, press your lips together to stop from laughing. 

"you've been staring at the same question for seven minutes," you say. 

“i’m thinking,” he replies flatly, pencil untouched. 

“thinking? i’m pretty sure your brain logged out the second i said the word ‘exponents.’” 

sae slouches deeper into his seat, arms crossed. “you’re annoying.” 

“you’re failing math.” 

“so? i don’t need this crap to play for real madrid.” 

you sigh and lean forward, tapping his worksheet. “you do need this crap to graduate, and your coach already said you’re off the field until your grades improve.” 

he visibly flinches at the reminder. his jaw clenches, the tip of his pencil finally pressing into the page like it's a battle of wills. he might be arrogant, but he’s not stupid, he knows how much his future depends on this. and that’s probably the only reason he hasn’t left already. 

well. that, and you. 

he won’t say it out loud (ever), but you're the only person in this entire school he can stand talking to for more than thirty seconds. you're also the only one willing to sit with him twice a week and try to make sense of letters pretending to be numbers. 

“i hate this,” he mutters. 

“i know. but look, it’s not so bad.” you reach over, lightly tapping his notebook. “okay, take this one: 4 to the power of 3. do you remember what that means?” 

he glances at you. "... twelve?" 

you pause. “no. i mean, i’m glad you guessed confidently, but no.” 

“so what is it then?” 

“it’s four times four times four. so, sixteen times four. try again.” 

he grumbles under his breath but scribbles it down anyway, then pauses. “… sixty-four?” 

you beam. “yes! see, you’re not totally hopeless.” 

he rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears go slightly pink. “whatever.” 

you suppress a grin and nudge his eraser toward him. “let’s do the next one.” 

the session drags on like molasses, mostly because sae acts like every equation personally offended him. but to his credit, he’s trying. somewhere between slumped sarcasm and scribbled formulas, you notice he’s leaning in more, muttering numbers under his breath, fingers twitching when he gets one wrong. 

and then, somewhere between problem five and six, he says: “you don’t have to do this, y’know.” 

you glance up. “do what?” 

“waste your time tutoring me.” his voice is quieter now, almost indifferent, but you can tell it’s something else. something less bulletproof than usual. “i’m not… good at this. i won’t magically get smarter overnight.” 

you close your notebook. “sae. i’m not here because i think you’re stupid.” 

he lifts his head, finally meeting your gaze. and his expression, usually so unreadable, softens, just barely. 

“then why?” 

you blink. “because i want to help.” 

he doesn’t reply. doesn’t look away either. for a second, the air shifts. it’s like the library fades into the background, the high ceilings and quiet whispers and dusty fluorescent lights all falling away until it’s just you and him. your knee brushing his under the table. his hand frozen halfway between writing and fidgeting. 

you don’t say anything. neither does he. 

but it hangs there, quiet and loud all at once. 

and maybe it’s not just about math anymore. 

by the fourth tutoring session, you catch him studying before you arrive. 

he’s hunched over a worksheet, pencil in hand, muttering like he’s trying to manifest brain cells. it’s actually kind of cute. he looks up when you sit beside him and immediately says, “i got five answers right. on my own.” 

you raise your brows. “what, no ‘you’re late?’ no ‘i hate this class?’ who are you and what have you done with sae?” 

“shut up,” he mutters, ears turning red again. 

you grin. “i’m proud of you, dumbass.” 

he looks away, but the corner of his mouth twitches. 

eventually, it stops being just tutoring. 

you still go over formulas and grammar worksheets, sure, but there’s more laughter now. more inside jokes. more lingering glances when you explain something, and more quiet watching when he thinks you won’t notice. 

he starts walking you to your class afterwards. offers to carry your bag sometimes, even though you’re pretty sure he just wants an excuse to hold something that belongs to you. one day, he brings you a sports drink with your favorite flavor. doesn’t say anything, just drops it on the table like it’s no big deal. 

you don’t mention the way his hand brushes yours when you take it. 

you don’t mention how he doesn’t pull away. 

one day, while you’re packing up your notebooks, you say: “hey, i know you think you suck at this, but... i like tutoring you.” 

he looks at you. really looks at you. and after a second, he says, voice low: “i like when you do, too.” 

and then, almost shyly– 

“... not just because of the tutoring.” 

your heart skips. you bite back a smile, trying to play it cool. “oh? so, what else is it?” 

he shrugs, eyes flicking down to your hands as you gather your books. 

“… you make it easier to think. even when i’m not good at this, you still... believe i can be.” 

you stop, just for a beat. the words land softer than you expect, all hushed and sincere and awkwardly beautiful coming from someone like him. 

when you look up, he’s already staring – cheeks pink, jaw tense like he wants to say more. 

so you reach over, close his math book gently, and murmur: “you’re getting better. and... you’re not the only one who looks forward to this.” 

he blinks. your fingers brush his, and this time, neither of you pull away. 

maybe he only knew three things before. 

but now? he’s starting to learn a fourth: you. 

and honestly, it’s the best subject yet. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[angelltheninth]

Jinu Uses You For His Pleasure

Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, breath play, enemies who fuck, being pinned down, growling, possessive sex, edging, cum swallowing, slight breeding kink, marking, cunnilingus, blowjob, demon x human

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I've had multiple requests for more dub-con with Jinu, so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it because I really enjoyed it.

Jinu hated you right now, more than he usually hated you, which was probably the reason he was so rough and forgiving as he pounded your cunt relentlessly. "You thought I'd let you get away with that? You thought you were innocent when you batted your eyelashes at all those fans, blew kisses at them while signing pictures for them. Did you think I wouldn't notice when others look at something that's mine?!"

He didn't care how you squirmed or fought back against his grip, you can't break it, it only makes him grip your wrists tighter, pin you down against the couch harder.

"You don't own me, and the fact that you act like you do… it's funny to see you pissed off." Jinu growled at your taunting insult, his marks appearing around his body more clearly, his human facade fading the angrier he got. You couldn't help but think how attractive he was, half way between the human idol everyone worships and half the demon you've been fighting for what feels like lifetime.

"You say that and yet your body wants me, your pussy so tight I can hardly pull out. You can fight, scream, curse me out all you want until your voice is gone but until I make sure your body knows who it belongs to, who can use it, I won't stop." His cock twitched inside of you, the fat tip hammering into your womb, pushing more and more of his seed in and showing no sign of stopping.

You didn't exactly want to piss him off, you didn't even want to see him, ever again. But given that it was inevitable and he was a complete asshole to you last time he fucked you it was only right that you got some payback. Even if it hurt to get fucked like this, it made your whole body ache, it made your head dizzy, but it was worth it to see Jinu lose control.

Jinu groaned as your hips snapped up against his, not enough to knock him off, not nearly enough. "I love it when you fight me." You blinked and there he was, fully in his demon form. "Women like you are my favorite to break, so strong, so beautiful, and before you know it, all mine. Mine to use, mine to have whenever I want, mine to fuck and fill you up with as many babies as possible."

"You're delusional if you think that's going to happen. I'll never… ugh.. submit to the likes of you. You're nothing but a lowly… demon. Nothing but a- mmn… wh-" He sopped. He was fully buried inside of you but he wasn't moving. You hiccuped, voice breaking from the sudden lack of stimulation. "What are you doing?"

"Having fun with my human. What else?" He moved back slowly and then even slower slid back in. "Mmm, let me enjoy your sweet pussy, so warm and tight, already full of my seed. Bet your fans would think of you differently if they knew how much you were craving a good fuck. Saw how utterly full of cum you are, and wanting more. Tch. Not very idol-like of you, is it?"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear that from you. You god damn hypocrite!" You moved up as much as his grip allowed you to, a hair between the two of you. "Are you scared you can't measure up? Is that why you do this? You know you can't get any unless you're being forceful with me?" You could see your words were making him angry, but never the less his cock reacted, his hips too, snapping harder and faster with every taunt.

"Human… you need to learn some manners." Jinu pulled out of you entirely, all his cum spilling from your pussy. What was even more surprising was that he let you go, at least you thought he did before his legs pressed against your arms, once again pinning you down on the couch. "You have quite a mouth. Let's make you put it to a better use shall we?"

With a sharp growl he plunged his entire cock down your throat, fucking your mouth mercilessly, making you choke on his dick, gasp for air. You moaned and gurgled around his cock, every word you tried to speak only adding to his pleasure as your tongue lapped against it. Jinu leaned over and wrapped his arms around your hips to pull your lower half up, letting his cum drip down your ass as his tongue lashed at your clit.

"What's wrong, is my bitch struggling to breathe? My cock too much for you? You better come quickly then. Cause I'm gonna keep fucking you until you do. Teach you to mouth off to me. Oh, and all of this…" Jinu pushed two fingers into your aching pussy, "…for every drop of cum that you waste I'll fuck more into you, so don't think I'm gonna let you go so easily."

His still full balls smacked against you as he fucked your mouth and throat, his tongue drawing patterns on your clit, fingers fucking you hard but not enough. You didn't want to let him win, but you also didn't want him to have you in this humiliating position, making you choke on his cock. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes as you begrudgingly focused on his cock, your tongue licking the salty cum that dripped down, licking the pulsing veins, your hips rocking towards his face.

"That's a good girl. Yeah, you're mine. Best to accept it. Let yourself be mine, all mine. Let yourself come." His knees lifted from your arms and you felt shame well up inside of you as you gripped his thighs to keep his cock in your mouth as you came, swallowing around it, making him release down your throat, greedily gulping it down. "Such a good slut."

Jinu's let your legs fall against the couch and pushed himself off. He looked down at you, your face flushed, eyes red, tears running down your face, his seed leaking from between your legs and from the side of your mouth.

As he grinned you felt the urge to hide. "Pretty cumslut, filled with cum on both ends." You threw your arm over your face and chewed on your bottom lip. A mistake as you tasted his cum even more intensely. "I'm feeling nice so I'll let you catch your breath for a moment." Jinu walked around and pushed himself between your legs, his still hard cock nudging between your dripping folds.

His hands massaged across your body almost gently, helping to ease the tension enough to push his cock back in. "That… I… can't anymore…"

"Yes, you can." He sighed as he bottomed up, his mouth curling upwards at the whimpering sound you made. "Shhh, this is all I'm doing. Just want to be inside of you. Rest up, my darling. Because I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold myself back."

[dirtyl0ver]

Is it alright to request something with the creeps and a corruption kink/virginity taking? I really like you're writing so I would love to see your take on it :3 you can use any creep

anon omg YES you can request that!! thank you for being so sweet about it 🥺 corruption kink + virginity taking is chef’s kiss

Also, when I think of corruption kink I immediately think of Ben lol. This man lives to ruin someone sweet and wide-eyed - he's smug, teasing, full of filthy confidence.

Also, had to include Toby, Jeff and Tim/Masky 😌 Enjoy!!

CW: Sexual content, corruption kink, manipulation, virginity taking, bleeding, power imbalance

Summary: The guys popping your cherry (Includes BEN Drowned, Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Tim Wright/Masky)

Wordcount: 3.5k

BEN Drowned

He finds out you're a virgin during some lazy late-night conversation, half sprawled in his lap, surrounded by the blue glow of a screen and half-finished snacks. He pauses, controller still in hand, then slowly turns to look at you - and the grin that spreads across his face is fucking dangerous.

“Wait. Wait-wait-wait. You’ve never? Like… at all?”

You shake your head. A little shy, maybe. But his grin doesn’t fade - it shifts. Turns sharp around the edges, a little hungrier. Like you just handed him the most delicious, forbidden secret and now he doesn’t want to do anything but play with it.

“Holy shit. That’s… hot.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” he smirks. “Now I have to be your first. You can’t just drop that on me and expect me to be normal about it.”

The teasing continues for days - he’s relentless, but in that silly, friendly way that somehow makes you laugh even while your face heats up. He texts things like “you ever even seen a dick irl?” and then follows it up with “kidding (unless)”. Every kiss from then on gets deeper, slower, his hands wandering just a little further each time.

He doesn’t pressure you. Well... maybe a little.

And when you finally whisper, “Okay. I want to,” he gets quiet for a beat. Blinks a few times. Then that grin comes back - smaller, softer this time, but no less intense.

“Yeah? You want your first time to be with me? That’s kind of fucked. But alright, I like it.” Like he wasn't the one who suggested it in the first place.

That night, he’s calmer than you’ve ever seen him. Still high, probably, but focused - too focused. The room is dim, still humming with faint monitor light. He takes his time stripping you down, but not in some cheesy, slow-motion romance way, more like he’s watching your reactions with almost scientific curiosity. Fingertips skimming your thighs, lips brushing your collarbone. He chuckles when you shiver.

“So sensitive already,” he murmurs. “God, you’re killin’ me.”

When he finally gets you beneath him, he lets his weight rest over you. He kisses you messy, wet, open-mouthed, with just a hint of tongue and teeth. His hands stay busy, stroking your thighs, pushing your legs apart slowly as he presses against you.

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice hoarse, hair falling in his face.

When you nod, he groans softly - more to himself than anything else - and grins, that cocky little thing that never leaves his face.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re letting yourself in for.”

He’s careful, but not overly so. He’s not trying to make it romantic, this isn’t a fairy tale. But he makes sure you’re very wet, makes sure you’re relaxed. And when he finally starts to push in, he goes slow, but keeps talking.

Not to soothe you. But to tease you through every single second.

“Shit– tight. No one’s stretched you before, huh? You feel like you’re gonna suck me in and never let go.” “This is so fucked. You're gonna remember this every time you try to fuck anyone else. They’re never gonna feel like this.” “You like that? You like being split open by your first?”

Every movement is measured - shallow thrusts, slow rocking of his hips, building rhythm while you adjust to him. He watches your face like it’s his favorite game. Not just checking for discomfort, but drinking in every blink, every gasp, every startled moan like it’s his reward.

And once he feels your body start to relax, start to want, that teasing turns darker. His voice drops. He leans close.

“Told you I’d ruin you. You’re already hooked, huh?” “Bet you thought your first time would be sweet. Instead, you’re grinding up into me, begging me to go harder.” “Fuck. Look at you. You’re so pretty like this.”

He doesn't pound you into the mattress. He doesn’t need to. He works you open inch by inch, letting your body crave him. The pleasure builds gradually - and when you finally cum, he watches with something that almost looks like awe.

Then he fucks you through it, not stopping. He has to feel it. The way your body changes. The way your voice breaks when it’s too much but you want more.

He doesn’t last long. He’s too turned on. You’ve been gripping him like a vice the whole time. When he cums, he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard, laughing, just a little.

“You were so not ready for that. Holy shit.”

Afterward, he doesn’t get sappy. He pulls you into his chest, wraps an arm around you, passes you the blunt. All the while, he’s planning how he’ll have you next.

Now that he’s felt you, now that he knows how easily you open up for him, how sweetly you break? He's thinking about pushing you further. Making you beg. Tearing away what’s left of your innocence, piece by piece, until you’re gasping for him, ruined just the way he wants you.

Because once Ben has his hooks in you, there’s no going back.

Ticci Toby

It comes out after a kiss that lingers too long.

You’re straddling his lap in your bed, hoodie strings wrapped around your fingers, and his hands twitching at your waist like he can’t decide whether to squeeze you or bolt. You’re flushed, lips swollen, and when he murmurs something about how hot you sound when you moan like that, you let it slip - soft, almost shy:

“I’ve… never done this before.”

The change in him is immediate.

His whole body goes still under you. No stuttering, no tics. Just wide, stunned eyes staring up at you. “You serious?”

You nod, suddenly nervous.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Not at first. He just licks his lips, breath catching a little, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough around the edges. “You t-telling me I get to be the first guy to– fuck you? Woah.”

He leans his forehead against yours for a moment, and you feel how hard he’s breathing. How tight he’s holding you. “You sure you want that? With m-me?”

You nod. And he groans. Long and low, like the sound is being dragged from his throat. “Alright,” he mutters. “You asked f-for it.”

Toby’s hesitant at first. His hands tremble when he pushes your shirt up. His lips are soft, shaky, brushing your skin in quick little kisses - almost like he’s saying sorry in advance. But as your body relaxes under his touch, his grip starts to tighten. His voice drops. And that boyish smirk - the one he flashes when he knows he’s getting under your skin - starts creeping in.

“God, you’re so– so warm already. You want this. Bet you’ve b-been thinking about me between your l-l-legs, huh? Jerking off to the– t-the thought of me fucking you stupid…”

You roll your hips into him and he twitches, nearly choking on his own groan.

When you finally get undressed, he hesitates - just for a second - then pulls his hoodie off with a nervous laugh. “Heads up baby, I’m n-not exactly small.”

You glance down the moment he pulls down his pants and boxers, and yeah - he’s not lying.

It’s thick, heavy, flushed at the tip. Your stomach clenches with a mix of heat and nerves. He notices. Grins again - lopsided and twitchy - but his hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll go... slow. Just b-breathe, yeah?”

He lines himself up, hand on your hip, eyes flicking between your face and where he’s pressing against you. The first push in is hard. The stretch burns - more than you expected - and your breath hitches.

“Fuck–fuck, wait,” you whisper.

He freezes, glances up at you.

“Too much?” he asks, voice cracking. “Shit–I knew I was gonna hhhh-hurt you…”

You shake your head, gripping his arms, nails digging into his shoulders. “No, just... give me a second.”

He nods quickly, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, muttering into your skin. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re just s-so tight. I swear I– I'm trying…”

You feel it when he pulls back slightly, then presses in again, slower this time. It still hurts. Not unbearable, but raw - the kind of pain that’s sharp and deep, laced with heat and pressure. He stretches you wide, forcing your body to open around him inch by inch.

“Fffffuck, your pussy's gripping me” he groans.

Once he bottoms out - fully seated inside, both of you shaking - he stays there. Kisses your collarbone. Nuzzles your jaw. His voice is low, shaky, almost pleading. “You okay?"

You nod again - barely able to speak - and rock your hips the slightest bit.

That’s all it takes.

His hands clench your thighs. His hips jerk, and suddenly, he’s moving - not rough, not yet, but deep. Slow thrusts that grind against something inside you that has your whole body tensing.

And it hurts. He's huge, and you’re sore, and too full, and you can feel that sting - the kind that tells you you’ll probably bleed a little. But it’s not bad. It’s real. Raw. Messy.

Toby looks wrecked. Jaw clenched. Eyes glazed. Hair falling into his face as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, l-look at you. Tuh-taking me so good, even though it hurts. You like that, h-huh? Like m-m-me ruining you?”

There’s a smugness in his voice now. And it only gets worse when he feels you tighten around him, moaning through the burn.

“Knew you’d be l-like this. Knew you’d be p-perfect inside.”

He gets carried away fast.

The pace picks up. His grip tightens. The bed creaks. He mutters praise, filth, and ragged gasps into your ear, every movement more frantic than the last.

When you feel that first sharp ache - that slight sting, wetness between your thighs that’s not just slick, but blood - you know it’s from him. From how big he is. From the way your body wasn't quite ready.

You whisper, “I think I’m bleeding,” and Toby freezes.

“What? Shit. Are you o-okay? Is it b-bad?”

You’re breathless. Shaking. But you nod, even as your body clenches around him. “It’s okay. I want it.”

He stares at you for a second - something dark and hungry flashing in his eyes - and then he growls, actually growls, and fucks into you again, harder.

“God, you’re insane,” he mutters. “You w-want me to ruin you, huh? Fffffine. You asked for it.”

He cums with a gasp and a full-body shudder, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear mid-orgasm. It’s messy. Hot. Loud. His hips jerk against yours as he fills you, twitching, breath gone.

Afterward, he slumps over you, face pressed to your neck. “Tell m-me I didn’t fuck that up.” he says, almost timidly.

You only have the energy to let out a content little sigh, and he laughs - soft, warm, stunned.

“Fuck. M-may I go duh-down on you now?”

Jeff the Killer

The moment you tell him, he grins.

It’s that sharp, crooked, wolfish thing he does when something’s clicked behind his eyes - something dark.

“Wait... you’ve never been fucked before?”

His voice drops with it. That low, rough edge he only gets when he’s getting off on someone else’s weakness. Your face gives you away, and he laughs - short, breathy, and absolutely feral.

“You serious? Fuck. You’ve been walking around me all this time with a tight little untouched pussy and didn’t think to mention it?”

He’s already crowding you, hands at your thighs, spreading them wider like he’s claiming space. His voice is in your ear now, his breath warm and heavy. “You think I’m gonna be gentle? That I’m gonna take it slow and whisper how good you’re doing?”

His tongue clicks. His hand wraps around your throat.

“Nah. You picked me, sweetheart. That was your first mistake.”

There’s no patience in the way he takes off your clothes - just need. He drags your underwear down with rough fingers, throws them across the room, and immediately stares at what’s between your legs like it’s something rare.

“Pure,” he mutters. “We’ll fix that.”

He strips like he’s done this a thousand times. Stretches his neck, cracks his knuckles. When he pulls out his cock - thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip - he watches your expression with this arrogant little glint.

“You’re gonna cry.”

You blink. He smirks.

“That’s a promise.”

When he presses into you, it’s not cautious - it’s possessive.

The stretch burns. It stings. He’s too big and you’re too tight, and he doesn't wait for you to adjust. He just pushes deeper and watches your face twist up in pain.

“Yeah, it hurts. That’s what it feels like when a real dick splits a virgin open.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfaction in his voice. Your breath catches, legs twitching to close, and he growls, grabbing your thighs and pinning them open.

“Don’t fuckin’ squirm. You wanted this.”

He rolls his hips deeper - meanly, slowly, letting every inch drag against your walls - and chuckles when you gasp, when your fingers clutch at the sheets.

“You feel that? That’s your first time. That’s my dick wrecking your little virgin hole.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ease up. Each thrust gets deeper, heavier, dragging a wet, slick sound from between your legs that only eggs him on. Your nails claw at his back and he just hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding.” “Look at that. Not even a full five minutes in and I’ve already marked you.”

You turn your face away, and he grabs your chin - forces you to look at him. “Don’t hide now. I want you to remember exactly how this looked. How it felt.”

You’re tight. You ache. The pain is a slow burn, pressure building behind it - and somehow, through the humiliation, the stretch, the shock of it all, there’s heat.

And Jeff sees it.

“Oh. Ohh, you like this.” he presses your cheeks togethers with his hand, forcing you to keep looking at him. “That’s fucked up, baby. Bleeding on my dick and clenching like you want more.”

He doesn’t let up. One hand stays on your face. The other claws into your hip, grounding you, controlling you. His rhythm gets brutal - not fast, but hard. Every thrust hits deep. Deliberate. Like he wants to rearrange your guts and fuck the idea of “gentle” right out of your brain.

And when you finally moan - loud, cracked, desperate - he groans, shudders, grins again. “There it is. Took you long enough.”

He slams into you once, twice, then grinds deep - and stays there. “Say it,” he demands. “Say I’m your first.”

You choke it out - barely able to breathe.

“Say no one else will ever fuck you like this. No one else is gonna split you open and leave you dripping like a broken thing.”

And when you do - when you whimper it, voice cracking with pain and need and surrender - he cums, hard, deep, inside.

You feel it. Hot. Unrelenting. He doesn't pull out.

He collapses over you, breath ragged, nose brushing your cheek.

“You’re mine now. There’s no going back. You’ll never feel anything else and not think of this.”

He pulls out slow, watches the blood and cum drip down your thigh.

“Look at that mess. That’s how you know I fucked you right.”

Then he kisses your cheek.

Mocking.

Affectionate.

Like he meant every filthy word.

Tim Wright/Masky

It takes you a long time to admit it. And an even longer time to say it out loud.

You and Tim have danced around the tension for weeks - long glances across the table, late-night missions with too much silence, his hand pressed to your back for just a second too long. He's not a talker, but his presence always says more than his words.

So when you're sitting next to him on the front porch, his jacket too big on your frame, curled up beside him during a sleepless night - and you say, quietly:

“I’ve never had sex before.”

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t smirk.

Just flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, jaw tightening as smoke curls up in front of his eyes. He stares ahead, the ember glowing at the end of his lip, the cigarette hanging low - like he’s considering whether to burn the world down for even hearing you say that.

“I know.”

And he says it like he’s known for a while. Like he’s been holding back.

He drops the cigarette. Crushes it under his boot.

Leans forward with elbows on his knees. His voice is rough, slightly hoarse - like he spent the last few hours barking orders or screaming into the woods.

“You want it to be me.”

It’s not a question.

You nod. And he turns slowly, eyes landing on you.

“Jesus Christ.”

He takes you to his room like he’s already committed a crime. Paces in the doorway with a cigarette burning in his hand, the smoke curling around his tense shoulders. You’re sitting on his bed, legs bare, jacket sleeves pulled over your fists like you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing - and he watches you for a second too long.

“You realize I’m not some soft-touch, right?” he mutters, voice low but sharp. “This isn’t gonna be sweet.”

You whisper: “I don’t want sweet.”

He flicks the cigarette into the ashtray.

And crosses the room.

Tim’s body is solid. Not built like a bodybuilder - not flashy - but like a man who’s had to carry shit, fight hard, and move fast for survival. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Big hands. A scar under his collarbone that you can’t stop staring at.

When he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt rides up - and you catch sight of the sharp line of his hips, the faint trail of hair below his navel. He sees your eyes move, and smirks - just a little.

“You’re gonna regret looking at me like that when I’m inside you.”

He strips you slow, but there’s nothing gentle about it. His hands grip your thighs like they’re handles. His lips drag across your skin like he’s trying to memorize the taste, not just enjoy it.

And when he finally settles between your legs, fingers trailing down your stomach?

He doesn’t tease.

He gets straight to it - fingers between your folds, slow and firm, working you open without asking for permission. He feels how wet you already are and groans - loud, frustrated.

“Fuckin’ perfect and untouched.”

He doesn’t stop touching you until your back arches and your breath catches. Then he climbs over you - knees pushing your legs wide - and rests the weight of his cock between your thighs, watching your face as he drags it through your slick.

“You ready?”

Pause. “No? Too bad.”

The stretch hurts. Of course it does. He’s thick, and your body’s never done this before.

But Tim doesn’t ask if you’re okay. Doesn’t slow down.

He grabs your hips, leans over you, and pushes in. Not all at once, he’s not cruel, but enough that your thighs tense and your fingers curl against his arms, gasping at the pressure.

“Yeah. It’s supposed to hurt.”

Your breath shudders. Your eyes flutter. And when your body clamps down from the shock of it, he laughs under his breath - not mocking, but dark. Excited.

“Tight little virgin pussy. Look at that. Taking me like it was fuckin’ made for me.”

Every inch is slow, but unrelenting. No coaxing. No apologies. Just Tim breathing harder, growling into your neck as your body gives way to his.

When he’s all the way in, he stays there. Buried deep, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight - like he’s holding back from something worse.

“Fuck. You feel that?” “That’s what you gave me. Every inch of you, tight and trembling and mine.” “Don’t cry about the pain. You wanted this.”

His rhythm is rough. Deep. Not fast, but deliberate - each thrust grinding against that spot inside you that makes you whine without meaning to. He watches your face like he’s daring you to fall apart.

When you clench too hard, or cry out when it stings, he just leans over you, breath heavy in your ear.

You take it. Every thrust. Every filthy word. Every punishing thrust of his hips that has you gasping and clinging to his back.

He cums without warning - hips pressed deep, cock twitching, the heat of it filling you in long, slow pulses. His whole body shudders.

Then he drops his head to your shoulder.

Breathes.

Silent.

Not gentle, just present.

After a while, he pulls out. Sees the blood. Watches his cum leaking from your sore, open hole - and his hand runs through his hair like he’s trying not to lose his shit again.

“You’re not fuckin’ anyone else now,” he mutters. “You know that, right?”

Because Tim doesn’t just fuck. He takes. He claims. He leaves scars where no one can see them - and the worst part?

You don’t want him to stop.

[dirty-bosmer]

Wip Wednesday

HELLO I am not dead! Sorry for the absence. I've missed so many weeks of wips and updates, and though I'm not completely out of the woods yet, I have a little bit more free time to catch up on tags and things as I wait to hear back on thesis revisions :)

I've been tagged by my very lovely moots @unironicallytes @skyrim-forever @elavoria @sulphuricgrin @tallmatcha @pocket-vvardvark @theoneandonlysemla @sylvienerevarine @heavy-metal-dick @saltymaplesyrup @madam-whim @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @chiqita @silly-little-diary over the last few weeks, and I am tagging you all again for this week <3

Challenging myself to write something less angsty, more silly, so I've been bouncing between my Skyrim fic and a Lucien/Nim oneshot that takes place before he's made her Silencer and their world starts to fall apart.

Bit of an AU because I actually want them to have 'harmless fun' for once and not wind up trying to kill each other, but we'll see lol

So there they were, on the dark of Cheydinhal’s streets, surrounded by oaks near unrecognizable as trees, so abraded by the shadows, and the both of them near invisible, scoured black by night. Wind rustled the weeds growing shin-height along the river, and Nim could feel herself trembling too, not from the breeze but from the electric rush of nerves that had been tingling in her limbs ever since he’d kissed her. Gooseflesh and clammy palms. A tightness in her throat— she hated how he did this to her. Hated that low, coiling thrill turning circles in her stomach, hated liking it, hated wanting more or wanting too much. Hated that of all damnable people in Cyrodiil, he was the only one willing to touch her.  The heat of Lucien’s stare blistered in Nim’s periphery, and she yanked her hood lower as if that could shield her from his prying eyes. Never mind that his arm was looped around her waist, her body held so close to his that it rendered her gait awkward. Still, she refused to look at him, to give him the satisfaction of her burning desire or her burning shame and the fiery amalgam of it all raging inside her. She glanced instead to the river splitting Cheydinhal in two. Moonlight skimmed the water with a silver sheen brighter than fish scale, so beautiful and clean that she felt she was contaminating it just by staring. I want to throw myself into it. I want to make myself pure, but even as she thought it to herself, she knew it wasn’t really what she wanted.  What she wished for most tonight was to be devoured whole. 

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Stan gets turned into a cave

He can control it

Make it bigger change the layout all sorts of things(can't add furnishing)

There's a big storm, Stan's glad he doesn't have to worry about it, he'd probably die out there

Ford is nearby and has to take cover in this cave

He tries to leave after doing some sort of protection magic thingamabob but the entrance disappears

Stan isn't letting Ford go in the storm, a tree was just ripped up from the ground and flew past, does he want to die?!?!

I love how we went from various animals to places. Barely touched on the object angle, Stan's just areas now.

Hmmmm. Hmmmmmm. Thinkin'. Hmmmm.

Gotta say, this ones stumpin me a bit. I can't come up with a good scen-

no wait. Power of brains got a thought.

Stan's in Gravity Falls for 'running' reasons, just needs to hide out, lay low for a bit. The caves got a path going into it, fairly large and hey! He'll just park the Stanley Mobile in the entrance, stick around for a day or two, give him time to rest. Lasts less than an hour before he's out poking around this random cave. Finds some crazy ruins of some kind, finds an artifact of another kind, touches it because why wouldn't he touch it? then Bam!

He's now been voleentold to be the guardian of this Ancient and Powerful Cave! He's stuck in the cave until someone either gets the treasure from him or the spirits whose actual job it is to look after this place get back from the vacation they skedaddled off to. Basically he gets roped into house sitting this place until they get back 'whenever'. Could be days, could be years.

Spends the first few days trying to wreck the place the best he can, rearranges all their furniture, and shoves as much treasure into his car for when he finally gets out of this weird spirit zone layer of the world. He's basically become a dungeon lord, able to twist and change the cave as he likes, and it'd be kinda cool except no one tells Stan Pines what to do and he wants to be gone yesterday.

Then there's a storm, and who should roll into Stan's cave prison but Stanford Pines himself. Stan's nerd brother is not only an idiot for going out in this crazy weather, he's Stan's shining beacon. He'll just seal Ford inside the cave, create the easiest labyrinth with the most basic challenges ever imaginable (he's compelled to at least try and protect this place, but nothing tells him he has to do a good job), and he'll be out of here by the time the storm passes! Its foolproof!

Except this is Ford. Ford spends a half an hour trying to reopen the cave, not even noticing the entrance to a crazy magic dungeon until Stan adds blazing torches and ominous whooshing. Finally whirls around, giant grin on his face at all the crazy cave carvings and patterns, and just as Stan's getting his hopes up Ford spends another hour drawing it all and writing in his diary. Drags his feet through the cave to examine every little inch of it, comes on the first 'challenge', some basic riddle Stan threw in there that'll open the door, and spends another hour overthinking it because 'obviously such a location wouldn't have an answer as simple as 'barber' to 'who shaves multiple times and has a full beard'! There must be some kind of fast hair growing creature! Like Fiddleford!

Then its Ford, yelling more and more outrageous answers while Stan slowly makes the room look like a barber shop.

This continues in every room, at some point Stan just has a room with an unlocked door with 'turn the handle and the door will open' as the riddle and then watches in agony as Ford scours the room for a handle, completely ignoring the door handle. Ford is a dnd party, and Stan is the DM who googled a funky riddle that was supposed to take five minutes and has now consumed the party with thinking of every solution except for the obvious.

By the time Ford actually makes it to the treasure Stan doesn't even care about being free of the cave. He wants to strangle Ford for making this take so long, he had to camp out at least on night in a dungeon with maybe ten rooms and challenges made for children to solve. The fact that Fords not even impressed? By this not insubstantial gold pile? Salt on the wound. All Fords interested in is is seeing if any of its enchanted or interesting shaped. Touches it, Stan gets released from guardian duties, and Stan is already shaking Ford. Hours! Hours Ford has been in here! Stan's been agonizing over Ford's inability to even check to see if a doors unlocked! Half of them weren't! He could have walked through and been in and out in less than ten minutes! Do you know how it feels to watch someone scoff at an easy answer! Whats wrong with barbers Ford!

Then he storms off, shoving treasure in his pockets and muttering angrily to himself all the while. The storm ended yesterday, he's gonna go get his car, get out of here, pawn all this off, and write a riddle book and mail it to Ford. Who needs brothers who can't CHECK TO SEE IF A DOOR IS UNLOCKED! He's gonna make do with his piles of treasure!

Ford chases him, because what? What just happened? Stanley?! Stanley explain!

Stan will not! He's been stuck in here hours longer than any human should be! He's driving off into the sunset! Gonna face plant in some grass and touch things with hands!

Then they get back and ah. Stan did not open the cave back up before he got uncaved. They are both stuck there being forced to talk to each other as they dig their way out.

[cloudcountry]

Okay jokes aside. How you imagine meeting Ritsu's parents for the very first time? We have a suggestion of what his father is like and we have information that he is close to his mother (even though at the very end, he'll remember his father before jumping off)

So, mini fanfic?

SUMMARY: you meet ritsu's parents!

COMMENTS: the way this is my worst nightmare ... like i know it would have to happen eventually, ritsu is a family man, but holy fuck i'd be so nervous. i tried to make it apparent that ritsu takes after Both his parents because i think that'd be funny. his mom is a sweet lady but she doesn't take any shit, even from her husband.

im actually really unsure about this. because this fic required me to write for two characters we havent seen (yet) so uh. yeah! yippee me!

If you could go back to the you that existed two hours ago and tell them to bring their resume, you would.

Ms. Shinjo had been plenty sweet and understanding when you stepped through the door on her son’s arm, greeting you warmly and showing you to their dining room. She was a shorter woman, with kind eyes and crows feet, and you couldn’t help but notice that they were so much like Ritsu’s.

She was almost enough to put you at ease before you sat down next to Ritsu, who was clearly so excited for you to meet his parents at last.

Seeing his father in the flesh, on the other hand, sent your stomach tumbling.

Mr. Shinjo was more imposing than his wife, with a completely neutral expression and unreadable eyes. The only moments of softness he ever exhibited were when Ms. Shinjo brushed past him with dinner, kissing his cheek when she set his plate down.

You offered to help, and he shut you down immediately.

Feeling shame creep up your neck, you’d grasped for Ritsu’s hand under the table. He’d taken it and given you an encouraging squeeze, as if to say you’re doing great!

And now you were here, trying to answer Mr. Shinjo’s questions.

“So you have prior work experience. Did you work hard?” he asks gruffly.

“Of course I did,” you reply politely, silently observing how the family held their silverware and lifted their glasses.

It was fancy. Nothing like you were used to. You tried to copy it to the best of your ability.

He grunts in acknowledgement.

“How much were you paid?” he asks.

Was this the Shinjo idea of small talk? You hesitate before answering, brow furrowing in confusion.

He says nothing at your answer. Silence fills the air as the clinking of utensils provides a quiet background noise. There’s a lump in your throat and you can barely stand to eat any more. It’s a shame, Ms. Shinjo is such a wonderful cook—you understand completely why Ritsu praised her so much.

As you are bringing your glass to your lips, Mr. Shinjo drops another question in your lap. This time, he looks up at you, steely grey eyes holding none of the warmth you saw in Ms. Shinjo’s. His tone is still gruff, almost disinterested at this point—as if he’s already decided.

“What do you bring to the table in a relationship with my son?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Something in your heart breaks a little at the scrutiny, even though it shouldn’t hurt you. You’re not overdramatic by any means—but you wanted this to work. Ritsu places so much importance on what his father thinks, and now that his father might not like you, he may break things off and go date someone else who comes from a more influential family and is more confident and so much less ordinary—

“Father, if I may,” Ritsu chimes in, setting his glass down to take your hand in his, “They are my partner. We work incredibly well together, and boost each other’s productivity. I’ve learned much from MC these past few years, and I have planned out a future in which I continue to do so.”

You look up at him, lifting your warm face away from your plate and out of your shame.

And Ritsu is looking at you.

He’s smiling—it’s no different from the smile he gets when you praise him, or when he has an opponent right where he wants them, or when he’s found a lead in a case. This smile is the exact same smile you’ve seen for the past few years, and it still sends your heart tumbling.

“They’re kind, diplomatic, and a great communicator. I confess they’ve even caught onto things I have missed in the past. They provide an important emotional outlook when talking with my clients. Without them I wouldn’t be as effective as I am now.”

“If that is the case, then to me, it sounds as though you’ve been slacking,” Mr. Shinjo grunts, eyes turning sharp as he eyes the two of you, “Must we keep you home again? Have you strayed you from your goals?”

“Dear,” Ms. Shinjo pipes up, her fork hitting the table with a soft clink that silences the room, “That’s enough.”

Mr. Shinjo, surprisingly, says no more.

“Surely you remember when I met your parents, and they grilled me with questions as such,” she says plainly, leaving no room for argument, “I support your decisions. Your good ones. And I believe driving this person away from our son, who looks so happy to be by their side, is a poor choice.”

Silence. Sparks of hope ignite in your heart as your worried expression softens, forming a thankful smile at her words. Ms. Shinjo’s steely gaze is focused on her husband, but you know she understands how thankful you are.

“Father,” Ritsu says—softly, like he’s placating him, “I have utilized your methods and run the proper simulations. There is no one better.”

He huffs.

A sigh.

A surrender.

“They seem like a hard worker. You’ve done well for yourself, son. Be careful not to lose them,” he says.

You grasp Ritsu’s hand under the table and squeeze it triumphantly.

He squeezes back.

[chrysanthemums-andstars]

Just My Type

Bang Chan x Male!Reader (College AU)

Inspired by: Just My Type by The Vamps (go listen to it it’s really good)

Description: Your complicated relationship with the college campus’ local stoner.

Warnings: This is based on the song and does use edited versions of lyrics from the song as well as the overall vibe. Smoking. Bad boy x student council boy dynamic. No smut but very suggestive. Heavily implied (basically stated at this point) that they have sex but at worst it’s just very passionate making out. This is my first time writing male reader. Use of (your name) instead of y/n. Does imply that Chan is only in it for fun but maybe he does fall for reader a bit.

Divider Credit here by @saradika-graphics

There was always more than meets the eye to your relationship with Bang Chan, or Christopher as teachers called him whenever he got in a fight or was caught smoking in the campus bathrooms. You had first met him when your history teacher had paired you up for a class project. “Please, make sure he gets his work done for once.” She had told you. “If he has a good example to follow he might be able to get better grades.” As if that was your issue to deal with just because you were on the student council. “So…you’re (your name)?” It was the first thing he had said to you. Leaning back in the chair next to yours without a care in the world. The building could’ve caught on fire and he would’ve given less fucks. “Yeah. And you’re Christopher?” You replied, earning a scoff from the grunge boy. “Call me Chan. Christopher is what people call me when they’re mad at me.”

“Good to know, Chan.” You replied, holding your hand out for a handshake. He chuckled and took it. “Oh so you’re that kind of guy? All formal and professional? Cute.” You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. “I’m on the student council.” He hummed and looked down at his paper, which was blank save for his name being written on the top right corner. “I never would’ve guessed.” He replied, his tone slightly mocking you. “So Mr. ‘I’m on the student council’, what do you do for fun when you’re not being a basic goody two shoes?” He asked. “I read.” And you could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes, though he wasn’t being rude this time.

That was the first time you had met. You honestly thought you weren’t going to survive being paired with him on the project. To tell the truth would be a lie but sometimes you’d see him outside your dorm room window, smoking cigarettes or a blunt. He looked lonely, in your opinion. Sometimes he’d be accompanied by other guys who were there to have some fun with him. But he never looked like he was interested in them.

So one night you met him outside. He was sitting on the same old bench, with another cigarette in his hand. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know.” You called out. Chan smiled and rolled his eyes. “Oh god not you too. Felix is already on my ass about this.” He said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “What?” You teased back, “It’s true. You’re going to get lung cancer before you graduate.” “If I graduate.” He huffed back. In which you smacked his arm in return. “Don’t say that.” Sitting down next to him on the bench you hummed. “(your name)? Have you ever kissed someone?” Chan asked after a couple of minutes. And your face got all red. “No.” He laughed. “You really are a goody two shoes!” He wasn’t mocking you, at least you hoped he wasn’t.

“Would you ever want to try it?” He asked again, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Kissing someone.” You sat there just thinking for a bit. “Maybe.” You replied. “Have you ever done it before?” He nodded. “Oh loads of times.” “What’s it like?” You scooted closer to him on the bench. He turned to look at you and smirked. “Well I can show you, if you’d like.” With your approval he leaned in and kissed you. Things escalated quickly and he ended up tongue deep inside your mouth, for lack of a better term. And he ended up taking you back to his apartment that night.

After that night, you’d hook up with him at least twice a week. Even after finishing the history project which, with your help, he managed to get a hundred on it. You laid next to him in bed, he was shirtless and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. While you were next to him in one of his hoodies, left wondering if it was casual when he practically shoved it onto you when you said you were cold. “Chan,” you finally muttered, “I need this to be more than just hook up after hook up.” He stopped scrolling and began to pay attention to you. Times like these called for true romance, and you weren’t sure if he was ready for that. “Whenever you bring me back to yours it feels like it’s nothing good.” He nodded.

“You know, when I first met you I thought you were just some random stuck up try hard. Now you’re the only thing still on repeat playing in my head. Sometimes I can’t even sleep thinking of you. And you think it’s not serious?” He whispered. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. “Believe me if I wasn’t interested I’d just leave. I wish I could. But I wouldn’t even dare try, darling.” You huffed playfully and shoved at his chest. “You let me down.” You tease. And he pinched your side. “And you get me high.”

You rolled your eyes. He was bad advice, but you never thought twice. Maybe he was just exactly your type. “I don’t know why, but you’re exactly my type.” He muttered and kissed your forehead.

[lanfykins]

So how optimistic was Aaron Burr, really?

Biographers vary. Several have claimed that he was prone to black moods, based on his own statement in a letter to Paterson that "He [Troup] is a better antidote for the spleen than a ton of drugs. I am often a little inclined to hypo." However that letter was written during Burr's long illness after Monmouth; it seems a little unwise to take it as representing his character generally.

His journals exhibit a cheery optimism that is occasionally actively unhinged. When he is left with only two half-pennies to live on, he finds a bright side that this is "much better than one penny, because they jingle, and one can refresh one's self with the music". Hamilton once called him "the most sanguine man in the world" and though he intended this as a warning against Burr's ambition, it was clearly based on the genuine perceptions of someone who knew him well.

But one must pay attention to what is not written as well as what is. There are unexplained gaps in Burr's European journals. He writes nothing for over a month after finally escaping Paris only to be dragged back to Britain, and never explains the silence. The only clue is a later aside in which he comments "Perhaps I have not told you, for it happened during some of those black weeks when I wrote you nothing". Given some of the circumstances in which Burr did write in his journal, one can only speculate about the state of mind that might have prevented him.

A similar absence occurs after the Richmond trials. During the trials, most observers agree that Burr was sanguine and lively company, although increasingly irritable as proceedings drew out. Blennerhassett's journal, which covers the period of the misdemeanour trial, is explicit about the change, although of course Blennerhassett was hardly an objective observer. But there is, between the end of the trials and Burr's departure for Europe, a period of around nine months or so; which most biographies skim over with a comment that little is known of his movements. Some of this 'missing' time is likely explained by this observation from Biddle's autobiography:

"Colonel Burr at this time kept himself concealed in a French boarding house. When I used to call of an evening to see him, he was alone with little light in the room. He was very pale and dejected; how different from what he had been a short time before when few persons in the city were not gratified at seeing him at their tables, where he was always one of the most lively and entertaining of the company. It would not have surprised me in going there to have found he had ended his sufferings with a pistol. If ever man could be justified in committing such an act it was Colonel Burr. To have found he had could hardly have given me more pain than I have sometimes felt on seeing him in this melancholy situation."

Quite clearly, Burr hurt. He went through periods of depression. He just tried not to expose them to the world, or to worry his cherished daughter.

How much of Burr's famous optimism was therefore a determined effort, rather than natural to his character, is impossible to say. What is possible to say is that he got through all those periods of depression, and picked himself up, and started over. Even after the deaths of Gampy and Theodosia he was not a broken man; his later years may have been less dramatic and spent in less rarefied circles, but then he was in his sixties. His long and painstaking work on the Eden case was bold and cunning, legally speaking, and there is nothing of the common refrain of 'giving up' about his adopting and mentoring multiple young people. Although there may have been more than a hint of desperation about his late-life marriage to Eliza Jumel.

So where does that leave us? Where Burr always leaves us. Mystified, maddened, and impressed.

[etvdes]

"i know– it was just –" they mumble, "i knew it would. and i REALLY liked you– i remember the first time you came into the shop. it felt like the first time something good had happened to me in YEARS." they explain, genuine smile crossing their face. their gaze is clouded with the memory, and for once that look they get when they're remembering something doesn't feel like a threat. relationships at the beginning of sobriety can be dicey, but they always thought that they were smart enough to juggle it all. it wasn't until they got to the point where it felt too late to mention it, that they realized it had been a bad idea to lie about it all. the way she agrees with them makes them feel so SEEN. like even though they had worked so hard to conceal this part of themselves, they had been way more truthful than they thought in the time they've known each other. because they knew they weren't fragile, even if they felt that way. anyone with this much on their shoulders would struggle, but they had stopped crumbling under the pressure. that was something they could be PROUD of. they don't know how to feel when she says that existing is strong enough, because it was something that they had always been resistant to. when they got a new key tag, they always called brodie. when they got their blue key tag, he had asked them why they don't put it on their keys, and they had struggled to answer the question. the answer was because they were ashamed of this, but he had told them something similar. being here, being alive, being clean, that was the hard part. the part they deserved to be proud of. and yet, they had always been resistant to the idea, like they couldn't believe they had done this in the first place. they wonder if she knew just how much they thought about her, or if she thought about what songs they would write about her– maybe she didn't. but maybe it's because they miss her so much, that they day dream about all of the things she might miss about them. it feels so much less pathetic, now that they know she was missing them too. and maybe they're overblowing it, but with the amount of time they spent thinking to themselves about all of the things they missed about her, like the sound of her laugh, or the way she liked her coffee, or all of the time they spent together, they hoped she was thinking the same way. it made it easier to cope with if she did. "yeah– i feel really lost too," they nod, looking down at her. it makes their chest ache to think about those first few days they were apart, and it honestly hadn't been so long since they had that fateful conversation. it felt so silly, looking back now, to not just tell her. but they always struggled to trust how anyone would react to anything, let alone something THIS intense. it's not exactly casual dinner conversation. and when she agrees that she does want another sweatshirt, it only takes an instant before they're stripping theirs off. it's not exactly warm enough for them to be in the white wife pleaser tank top they have underneath, but they can't help it. they'd do anything if it made her happy– give anything for her to feel comforted. so they hold out their sweatshirt, evergreen with yet another band's logo emblazoned on the front. if grey was one thing, it was predictable. maybe that's why they spent so much of their time screaming NO GOOD by knuckle puck behind the wheel of their beaten down pickup truck. they had always been so obsessed with the pop punk scene, had always loved the fearlessness that came with crowd surfing or moshing, and they always felt so safe there. no one was going to ask them if they wanted a bump or if they wanted to buy something like H – and it made them feel so CLOSE to mickey even after he was gone. so maybe they've got a million of these types of sweatshirts, but they were so thankful they had them now that they had the opportunity to offer one up to her.

then she's asking if they’d ever be able to give it another go, and they feel like they must be dreaming. because they can’t imagine that she’s actually saying exactly what they want to hear. they guessed it took too long to answer, because they’re watching her overthink the question. walking it back so they don’t feel under pressure. but everything in them wants to shout YES over and over. trying to play things cool has never really been their strong suit. “yeah— if you wanted to—“ they reply, but now it’s their turn to overthink things. they just got through detailing their pattern of bad behavior, and on top of that, lying to her for months. would she even WANT to be with someone capable of that? sure, she asked, but maybe it was a curiosity not an invitation. "i miss you. i miss us." it's a start, and hopefully it leads to the things they've been daydreaming about.

“yeah that… might’ve changed things slightly.” no judgement from her necessarily but rowan isn’t sure that her easy going nature would’ve known what to do with that honesty. aren’t new relationships supposed to be bad for sobriety? she supposes that’s only what she’s gleaned from fiction and doesn’t have much experience in that matter to know. it kind of does ring true. grey had too much to deal with and too many secrets for them to stay together and so maybe it wasn’t the best thing. they seem to be working through it enough to be honest though and so that seems to signify some sort of shift. what that means is something she doesn’t know. “you’re not fragile,” she agrees, no real hesitation there. they’re clean. they’re starting to open up. approaching a day that’s so hard for them and yet not scrambling to find a local dealer. it’s all things that rowan can acknowledge. she can also, however, acknowledge there’s a little part of her that feels more protective over them now. isn’t about to change the way she acts when she’s around them but she at least feels the need to watch. to notice the things that she didn’t before. she feels like grey deserves that. someone to see them for all that they are — including the parts of themself they want to hide. “i think you’re really strong, actually. you’re existing and that’s the hardest thing there is.” it might not sound the most complimentary but it’s supposed to be. there’s nothing more challenging than living with shadows. it settles something within her to hear them return her words. it also makes it harder because they understand how she feels. “i just don’t think i expected to feel so lost.” maybe it’s because she feels their relationship ended before it really began. now she knows why now which is something but it doesn’t negate the fact she feels like there was still something between them. “that might be nice. if you don’t mind.” it’s an easy thing to agree to, having another part of them around her. then another thought dawns on her and she has to swallow it down before the question comes out too fast. they love her. they said it. however, her mind briefly ponders over the question if loving her is enough for them. grey has shared some of the rawest parts of their life with her and she had to wonder if that would make them see her differently. they hadn’t wanted her to know because they worried about what she might thing but now she knows… does that worry exist anymore? she pauses, lets herself glance back up at them again. figures she can’t keep avoiding eye contact just because she finds herself looking for honesty in their gaze. “do you ever think we’d be able to give things another go?” she tries to make the suggestion lightly enough but there’s no denying the weight of it. if they say no then she’ll understand. she has no choice but to accept it. just thinking about if they say yes, though… “i understand if you — i mean, i know things now. the things you didn’t want to tell me before. i don’t know if that changes things.” it does, obviously. her questioning of it mainly comes from a negative point of view. does it make things worse or better? they wouldn’t have to lie to her anymore. though rowan doesn’t doubt she maybe doesn’t have the whole story of everything she at least knows where they’re coming from now. if they want to feed her scraps of history then it might not be so jarring to hear. then she realises how selfish her question sounds. they’ve been pouring their heart out to her. baring their soul in a way they couldn’t before and she finds herself asking how she might benefit? granted, it is for the both of them but she quickly feels sheepish the more she thinks. “you don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to, actually.” she tries to cover up her hopefulness with a few dismissive words, mouth curved up into a semi-forced thin-lipped smile. it’s just one of those things that slips out without a filter but that doesn’t mean that she has to put the pressure on them to answer.

[empire-at-war]

Kinktober???

Kinktober!

[maryasmorevna]

why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip

[lord-squiggletits]

As much as I'm a Pharma apologist he is genuinely an asshole who acts completely unrepentant so something I think about for an eventual Pharma redemption fic is like. How do you write a redemption for a severely traumatized guy whose coping mechanism is to act like he doesn't care and the people who need to accept him don't like/care about him enough to go "hey it's okay everyone gets a second chance" and/or "wow Pharma is so radically different what caused that change."

But also like it's really hard to help someone who has no desire to/refuses to be helped and makes himself deliberately unpleasant to be around so like idk

[transhetanybodys]

I just got hit with a flash of inspiration for another story involving Jay, an AU of my already existing AU where Russetpaw doesn't die and instead grows up to experience the same amount of hardship and adversity for her belief in bringing groups together and working against xenophobia but instead of that all eventually culminating in her snapping and becoming really mean and narcissistic and no longer believing in extending an olive branch to other cultures like what happened to Jay she simply becomes wiser about how she's going to accomplish her goals and what exact form they'll take, no longer having this truly out there and not even really good to accomplish goal of actually bringing Shadowclan and the cats of the Twolegplace into one united society with one blended culture instead of two but rather wanting them to be allies instead of being at war. She and Jay have some juicy mother daughter conflict a la the Baroness and Cruella. Jay thought that her daughter would either keep being someone she sees as a hopeless romantic idiot forever or eventually snap and become a second her and then rise to become a truly formidable leader of the Twolegplace cats' rival group Shadowclan. She didn't foresee this third option of Russetpaw maturing into a more intelligent revolutionary and she kind of resents her even more now. Now she's not just a mirror of her younger self who she sees as way too naive, she's a better path that she herself could have taken, but she can't face that because she thinks she's the best the way she is already.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.