#I think Ibe only read this once

[whump-in-the-closet]

Favorite whump trope go

This is HARD

An overly specific trope that I really like is branding but in a fantasy/ “you are a threat” kind of way. Not so much possessive as a warning. Especially if it’s visible. On whumpees forearm or neck. GAHHH it’s just the humiliation the frantic attempts to cover it up after they escape but it remains a part of them and WORSE it reminds others of their past. People are able to know intimate details about whumpee just by looking at them. Same with large facial scars. They may be able to physically get out of their prison but they can never entirely leave it behind and it’s delicious

[sukunasbow]

choso kamo, eren yeager, jean kirstein, jayce talis, katsuki bakugou, rintarō suna, satoru gojo, tetsurō kuroo, theodore nott, viktor, + anyone you want.

ib: the lovely @fawnrowe

cw cnc! read at your own discretion.

thinking about consensual drugging with your boyfriend.

you were at his house for the halloween party he was hosting with all your friends. before the party started, as the two of you were getting all dressed up in your costumes, he suggested the idea and you ended up agreeing.

so, later that night, while everyone was partying and drinking, he pulled you to the side and gave you a bottle of water that he spiked with a white powder, just enough of the drug to keep you asleep for a few hours after you drank it.

fast forward to now, his arm around your body as you wobbly walk up the stairs while he leads you to his bedroom. “careful, baby.” his voice is so gentle and soft compared to what he’s about to do to you. “here.” he pushes open the bedroom door. you wince at the bright lights when he flips the switch.

“mm’ so tired.” you yawn, having to stop your eyes from completely closing while you’re standing up.

“i know, shh, shh. you’ll sleep soon.” he kisses the side of your forehead before bringing you to the side of his bed, carefully placing you down on the soft mattress. “you can sleep now.” he breathes out, tracing a finger along your jawline as your eyes flutter shut.

moments later, he’s climbing onto the bed and spreading your legs apart as you let out quiet snores. he reaches to the side and grabs his phone off the nightstand, then unlocking it and opening the camera app. he presses the red button and aims the phone at you, making sure he is able to record everything he’s about to do to you.

with one hand holding the phone, he focuses the video on your spread legs, exposing your lace panties to the camera. “such a slut, hm?” he coos, just loud enough for the video to pick up his voice. “look how pretty she is, baby.” he slowly drags his free hand up one of your thighs and pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your bare pussy. he moves the phone angle, giving the camera a perfect view of the lower half of your body. “you’re asleep and she’s still dripping…” his tone is mocking, “filthy girl, probably dreaming of this happening.” your boyfriend brings his hand to his mouth, spitting on two of his fingers before going back to your cunt, slowly gliding the two fingers along the puffy folds. his lips part, shallow breaths escaping his mouth as he feels his dick getting harder. the mix of your juices and his salvia lets the pads of his fingers easily glide along your clit with circular motions. “so fucking hot.” he mumbles and moves the phone directly in front of your pussy, showing off what he’s doing to your unconscious body. the only sound in his bedroom is the low drum of music from downstairs, and now, the lewd sounds of his fingers spreading your slick around your cunt and creating soft squelching noises.

“she’s so greedy, look at her clenching around nothing.” the man grins, once again aiming the phone camera at your tight hole. he stops moving his fingers, instead admiring the video as your pussy pulses in anticipation from the previous pleasure. “should we give her what she wants? hm?” he talks to you through the video, planning on sending it to you later so you can touch yourself while he’s not around. the idea of you getting off on this situation just makes him feel even more hot and bothered, to the point that he starts subtly humping into the bed, soft groans escaping him. while he grinds his hips down, he moves his face closer to your bare pussy, darting his tongue out and delving into your wet hole, starting to tongue fuck you. he moans into you as he devours your pussy, his other hand’s grip on the phone getting slightly shaky, yet he still gives the camera a glance at him eating you out, his jaw flexing with every movement of his tongue. a few thrusts later and your involuntary orgasm washes over your body, your cum spilling out of your cunt and onto his tongue, coating his lower lip with your juices. “so messy..” he turns his head slightly and grins at the phone camera, making sure you can see his face when you climax while watching the video back. “what are we going to do about me though?” he sits up on the bed and wipes his lips with the back of his one free hand, then pointing the camera down at his erection making a tent in the pants of his costume.

he silently gets off the bed, walking towards the nightstand and turning his phone horizontally before propping it up against a lamp. “gonna fuck you so good you wake up seeing stars.” he glances at the phone camera, directly addressing it. your boyfriend walks back to the bed, once again climbing onto it and, this time, hovering over you, caging your upper body down and between his arms. “so pretty.” he leans down to your face and softly pecks your lips, “i’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry.”

with a few pumps of his hands to his dick, he’s ready for you again, slowly sliding himself inside of your wet pussy. “oh shit.” his eyes flutter shut, “never gonna get used to this, your pussy feels so good.” he carefully thrusts back out of you, then starts picking up the pace, the base of his dick hitting the sweet spot of your pussy with every movement, taking him to the hilt. “taking me so good, yeah, yeah.” he moans out, “fucking take it, slut.” he looks down at your pussy, watching the way you swallow him whole with every buck of his hips, “yeahhh, atta’ girl.” leaning closer to you, he moves his mouth near your tits, his lips grazing against one of your nipples. “so perfect.” he gently bites on the nipple, then swirling his tongue around it. “you’re perfect.” he repeats himself as he sucks on your nipple, then starting to alternate between the two. “gonna cum..shit..” he moves away from your chest, opting to stare down at your peaceful face instead. for a moment he feels disappointed that you aren’t able to actively experience orgasming with him, your usual loud and unfiltered moans not being vocalized, but you just feel so good, and within minutes he’s forgetting his train of thought and spilling his seed inside of you, his dick twitching as his cum stuffs you full. his chest heaves and he groans out, “gonna get you pregnant someday, promise.” he shakily pulls out of you and shuffles closer to your ear, “you’re all mine now, baby, i got you. don’t worry.” he whispers.

[allur1ngs]

✮ the glasses stay on✮

tw: unedited, smut, oral--r!receiving, possessive!bada, a bit of jealous!bada, bada's a teeny bit mean (not rlly she says sorry right after), bada wears her glasses while she eats you out, bada eats it through your panties and uses your panties to get you off, pussy slapping...., panty stealing, sex in bada's office & on her desk, ass grabbing, risky sex--possibility of getting caught

a/n: ib this and this ask, this one has a bit of an intro before going straight into the smut, and once again i'm telling everyone to say ty to my wife @bebeyue bcs without her motivation i would not be writing this😚🩷

Tick tick ticking, every second that passes by winds into an endless staircase of lost time. Bada stares down at her Cartier wristwatch with a mix of distain and guilt.

The hour hand on the clock reminds her that it's five in the afternoon, and she's completed little-to-none of the high-stacking papers in front of her. Truly, it's not Bada's fault. Although she can usually sit in her office and read documents for hours on end with little difficulty--beyond the annoyance that settles in after the third or fourth hour--for some reason, today she simply can't will herself to pick up her black and gold fountain pen, and read or sign any paperwork.

"Something's off." She thinks to herself, slowly picking her gaze up from her watch and staring at the blotted black words in front of her. "There's something I can't seem to get my mind off of, but at the same time I don't know what I'm thinking about--"

Like divine and heavenly intervention, the answer comes to her in the form of a beautiful woman entering her office...you.

"Hope I'm not interrupting you." You quietly creep into Bada's office, with a smile. Your eyes, which had only swept over her quickly when you entered, now take in her full figure, which surprises you.

Rather than wearing her normal black suit jacket and tie, she's wearing a light blue button-up shirt with red and blue stripes running across it, and her hair is tied up into a ponytail braid, wisps of her long side bangs frame her face, making her face shape look sharper.

"You're looking extra good today." You comment, walking up to Bada's desk with your hands behind your back.

"Oh," your fiancée breathes, suddenly finding it hard to concentrate, Her eyes are fixated on your outfit, which is a cute blouse and a short skirt. The lack of fabric allows her to eye the creamy skin of your legs with a hungry gaze. "Thank you. I noticed it was hot in the morning so I decided to wear a looser shirt."

"Well I love it." You say cheekily. Walking around Bada's desk, she immediately scoots her chair back, making space for you to stand in front of her. "I brought you something, by the way."

Your words make Bada look up at you, to which you take your hands from behind your back and open your palm, revealing a pair of silver-framed aviator glasses.

"I couldn't find your usual glasses--"

"I broke them while out on a mission." Bada gives you a sheepish look.

"That explains it then." You laugh. "But that doesn't give you an excuse to not wear your glasses."

"I'm sorry." Bada pouts. She takes her spare glasses from the palm of your hand and puts them on, then suddenly wraps her arms around waist and pulls you into her, pushing her head into your midsection.

You let out an instinctive gasp, but place your hands on top of her head nevertheless.

"Let me make it up to you?" She mumbles into your shirt, dragging her hands from your waist to your ass, grabbing them roughly before she gives them a squeeze.

"Bada--" You exclaim, surprised at her lustful behavior. "Where is this coming from--?"

"I can't focus on my work." Your fiancée huffs. She starts to grope at your ass more, pressing her head against your stomach even more. "Especially not now that you've walked in with this short skirt."

Bada suddenly pulls her head from your midsection, but moves her hands back to your hips to keep you at an arm's length distance. She bunches up the fabric of your skirt, slowly raising it farther and farther up your thigh, until the bottom of your skirt just barely covers your panty-covered pussy.

You take in a sharp breath, your body reacting to her touch by shivering.

"Did you wear this on purpose?" Bada hums, toying with your skirt but never completely flipping it upward...yet.

"Like you said, it's hot." You whisper, placing your hands on her shoulders. "I wanted to wear something fresher."

"But did you have to wear such a short skirt?" Bada looks up at you, smirking as she finally flips up the fabric of your skirt, revealing your panties, which are noticeably damp. "Oh, what's this?" She says, her voice low and cocky. She drags her finger up and down your slit, making more slick pool against the lace of your panties.

"Bada...we shouldn't." You whisper, but your body and heart betrays you. You start to roll your hips against your fiancée's fingers, hoping to get more pressure against your pussy.

"I don't know, it looks like you want it." Bada cocks her head to the side, hearing the way your breath hitches when she moves her fingers along your panties. "Do you want it? Do you want me to fuck you here, in my office, when any of the girls could walk in and see us?"

You gasp at her words, glancing at the door instinctively...but you don't stop grinding your hips against her digits.

Bada watches you with amused dark brown eyes. She huffs a laugh, "Do you like that idea? You want to get caught by the girls and let them see how promiscuous you are?"

You hesitate to answer, far too embarrassed to speak your mind--

"Say something." Bada pulls her fingers away from pussy, staring up at you with domineering look.

"...I--I don't want to get caught." You breathe, lies staining your tongue.

"Really?" Bada's voice pitches upwards in doubt. "Are you lying to me?"

You look away from your fiancée in shame. "N--"

"You know I don't like it when you lie." Bada suddenly uses her strength to push you down on her spread legs, making you let out a surprised noise. "But either way, it doesn't matter. I won't let anyone see you like this, whether you want them to or not."

She takes ahold of your legs and makes sure they're wound tightly around her waist. She starts to drag her chair closer to her desk until your ass is against it, then she pushes you down until your back lays on the desk.

Bada looks down at you, splayed across her desk like an angel--a sinful, debauched angel--but an angel no less. Her mind, which had once been foggy immediately clears into one single, concise thought. "I need her."

Bada leans down to capture your lips in a heated, and passionate dance. It's all tongue--your teeth clash against each other as your fiancée swirls her tongue against yours. At the same time, she pulls at your shirt, only breaking away from your lips to rasp out, "Take it off," in a demanding tone.

You stare into her eyes for a split second before you sit up, taking the ends of your shirt, lifting it upward, and off of you. You're left in only a bra, which makes Bada hiss in satisfaction.

She presses another kiss on your lips, laying you back down on the desk once again, before she begins her descent downwards.

Bada moves under your skirt, and hoping to give her more access you try to remove it, but she immediately stops you.

"Don't." She says, using one of her hands to pin down both of yours. "I like it." She smiles, taking the fabric between her fingers and rubbing it. "You look so pretty in it."

You don't fight against your fiancée, you allow her to touch you through your panties, cruelly giving you the mildest amount of pleasure so that you release slick, but aren't satisfied.

"Bada, you're being mean." You huff, wrapping your legs around her head in hopes of pushing her head closer to your cunt.

"I know." She says cheekily. "But you lied to me, so I think I'm going to have some fun with you."

And have fun she does.

Bada latches her mouth onto your panty-covered pussy in a sudden surge forward. She laps her tongue up and down your slit, just barely rubbing against your clit which makes you let out a loud, blissful sigh and half moan.

She rubs her nose against your folds--the combination of glass and silver frames of her aviators are cold--the temperature difference in comparison to your hot pussy makes it clench around nothing. Bada quickly flattens her tongue as she continues to practically slobber all over your panties. Your juices and her saliva ruin the lace, making them a sopping wet mess.

You start to let out increasingly loud moans, even the simplest of Bada's touches making you cry out for more.

"You're being so loud." She mumbles into your pussy. The words rumble against your skin, which gives you muffled pleasure. "I'm starting to think you really do want us to get caught."

You toss your head to the side, looking away from her. "I-I don't."

"There you go again." Bada tuts. She pulls away from your pussy and grabs the edges of your panties. She brings both sides together, creating a thin line of lace that she uses to rub against your clit. The action gives you a delicious amount of pleasure, your mouth falling open as a loud moan leaves your lips. "Do you enjoy lying to me?"

Up and down she moves the lace, using her fingers to separate your folds so she can properly see the way your pussy clenches, pulses, and releases endless amounts of slick.

"Should I make you cum like this? Make you fucking cum all over your panties as punishment?" Her tone takes a stern pitch, the sound of it making you wetter, but at the same time nervous.

"No." You protest, shaking your head side to side. "Please--"

Bada's strong composure shatters at your whines. She can't help but wear a fond smile as she looks down at you, small tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes. "Don't cry, honey." She cooes, placing her thumb under your eyes to wipe away to clear droplets. "I'm sorry baby, I'm not mad at you. I'll make you feel good--always."

You sniffle a bit, but start to steady your breathing--wide eyes blown as you turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of her hand, silently saying, "I know."

Bada gives you one last fond look before she drags her nose down your stomach, until she reaches that sweet spot between your legs. Mesmerized, she leans down to collect your juices, moving your panties completely to the side to give her unencumbered access to your cunt. She presses her mouth up against it, her glasses bumping into the hood pussy. You watch with bated breath as she once again flattens her hot tongue, giving you one long lick before she dives right in.

Bada moves her head side to side along with her tongue, rubbing your clit deliciously. She catches the skin of your lips and sensually pulls them, then sucks hard on your pussy like it's a lollipop.

"Bada," you somehow manage to choke through your heaving breaths.

She hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure up your spine and throughout your entire body.

"Your glasses."

"What about them?" She says, briefly breaking away from your pussy.

"You're going to break them--" looking downward, you would have been able to see your fiancée is staring at you through the hoods of her eyes--her gaze is unwavering, confident, and hypnotic.

But you can't see her eyes because her silver aviator glasses are foggy. They're entirely marked with perspiration, Bada's hot breaths catching against the sticky glass and clinging to it like a lifeline.

Still, as alluring and sensual that image is, the nail in the coffin is the globs of your juices dripping from the edge of Bada's glasses. They come together around the middle of the frames until they make a large dot, then drop down onto your fiancée's pink lips, where she quickly darts her tongue out to lick your saccharine slick into her mouth.

"The glasses stay on." She asserts, giving you one last, unseeable look before she attaches her lips onto your pussy again.

It's ridiculous, really. If you're unable to see Bada's eyes through her glasses, then they were entirely useless sitting on the bridge of her nose--she most likely couldn't even see through them.

But nevertheless, she fucks her tongue into you, drives it in and out of your hole, licks and swirls your clit into her mouth until you're screaming in pleasure, her glasses foggy dripping with your essence as she makes you cum.

Sucking on you one last time, Bada finally pulls away at the sound of your broken whines. She lets out a long breath, a smile instantly forming on her lips as she uses the back of her hand to wipe away the remnants of your orgasm from her lips. She licks it all up like it's a valuable liquid--the elixir of life.

Only then does she take her glasses off--well, she hangs them from the unbuttoned collar of her shirt--as she leans forward, giving your cunt an affectionate slap.

You let out a cute "ouch!" then glare at your fiancée, who only laughs in response.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." She says sweetly.

"I think you could have." You huff, moving to sit up from Bada's desk.

She chuckles under her breath, before quickly taking ahold of your panties and slipping them off your legs. "Thank you for that." She grins. "I think I can finally focus."

You can't help but laugh as well, "Okay, I'll get going then." You hold out your hand and give Bada an expectant look.

She only stares at you with a cheeky smile. "What?"

You furrow your eyebrows and push out your hand further. "My panties?"

"Oh, these?" Bada holds up your lace panties, her saliva and a mixture of your cum making it wad together into a dripping mess. "I think I'll keep them." She suddenly shoves them into her pocket, completely unbothered by the fact that they'll surely dampen the fabric.

"Bada!" You exclaim, your mouth falling open in shock.

"What, you wanted to wear them?" She smirks. "They're ruined." Taking a step forward, she looms over your figure still perched on her desk, and leans in to speak right into the shell of your ear. "Come find me in a few hours after I've finished my work, and maybe I'll think about giving them back."

taglist:

@aericrys, @somerandomtinyperson, @bluebada, @dallaji, @luvjanexx, @hyejuwu, @diana-rose-25, @jjlovesbada, @prilux, @youknow1234, @fae-the-wanderer, @mightymyo, @aein-tings, @badasgirlfriend, @onlyyou-metanoia, @wiselight, @badasoneandonly @multiliker, @badabonita, @randomhoex, @justaharmlesspotat0, @sporadicfacebasement, @4bada, @seungxstar, @urlovebot, @neuftaeng, @hyunsllvr, @aixicl, @itzmy, @badasgff, @mikaleialt, @tthe-dark-ssoul, @m0r0s1111, @phoxey, @taruusmoon, @lovebtsforever24, @moonsvrse

(if your name is crossed out i wasn't able to to tag you)

want to join the taglist? send me a message or comment saying you'd like to be on it (or be removed from it), and i'll do so immediately!

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

[boyfhee]

MARRIED UNDER TWENTY-FIVE / sjy

SYNOPSIS : a look into yours and jake’s life as you meet, fall in love, get married, and lose each other— all under twenty-five. ( 5.3k )

or, eight months after your death, jake finds the courage to open your letter.

GENRE : heavy angst, bittersweet

WARNINGS : death, grief and grieving, heavy drinking, smoking, implications of substance abuse, one mention of intrusive thoughts, my attempt at cinematic parallels but in writing so i hope it's not confusing, switches between past and present. byf : written in italics are the contents of the letter

NOTE : was in the zone while writing this like the way i teared up?? boyfhee angst returns happy reading, everyone. ALSO big thanks to @flwrshee ri my bae for beta-reading this and reminding me to work on this from time to time lmfao. ib : richard feynman's letter to his dead wife (need someone who loves me the way he loves her)

buried in jake’s drawer is the letter he found four months ago. actually, it has been sitting there for over a year, under the pile of other papers and envelopes, tucked in the lowest drawer of the shelf, one that is rarely ever opened. you had put it there for him to find it— hoped that he would find it because you couldn’t bring yourself to give it to him yourself. jake had stumbled across it four months after you left him forever. four months after walking and stumbling, after four months of staring blankly at his ceiling, the letter is the closest he can get to you. 

he keeps it with him, in his bag, sometimes tucked in his coat during winters, as a bookmark for the books he reads that take him to back you, even if you only exist as a figment of his imagination. he keeps it on the bed-side table before he goes to sleep, it’s there in front of him on evenings he drinks for hours on empty. the letter stays unopened— he couldn’t bring himself to open it. his fingers brush against the pale paper and it feels like a sword to his heart. opening that letter feels like tearing you apart, and four months is what it takes jake to sit by the kitchen counter with the letter once again; with pain in his eyes and a scissors by the side. 

eight months after you’re gone, jake finds the strength to read it. 

‘i think the first time i fell for you wasn’t at the bookstore,’

your handwriting feels like a warm hug after a long day. his fingers tighten around the loose sheet of paper, a faint crease forming along the edges. a single tear rolls down his cheeks.

‘it was that day at the bus stop. it was raining, i was running towards the bus stop, covering my head with my bag. fortunately enough, the bus arrived a minute after, and you happily lent me your jacket before getting off at your stop,’ 

and jake remembers it clearly. grey skies and merciless rain, he was already late for his evening classes and the weather didn’t seem to help. he already missed a bus before making it to the bus stop near his apartment and managing to catch another, his umbrella decided to malfunction in the worst way on seemingly the worst day. his perfectly styled hair was ruined thanks to running in rain, across and under the sheds he could find. jake was so sure, it was the worst day in the nineteen years of his life, until the bus arrived at the stop, and his eyes handed on you as you stood at the bus stand, annoyed at the weather. 

jake could hear one of his friends calling his name from a distance as soon as he gets down from the bus, but all he did was look at you and offer you his jacket— the most far-from-normal and astonishing thing he had ever done— before you aboard the bus, shooting him a soft smile from the windows as it drove away.

‘i still don’t know why you did that,’ 

reading further, jake realises that he doesn’t know why he did that either. the two of you weren’t even heading in the same direction. he was rushing to the university campus while you wanted to catch the bus to your way home. the chances that he would get his jacket back were low, almost zero. there are days when he sits by the window and thinks about all the stuff you did together, about everything he did that led him to you. the jacket, perhaps it was supposed to end up with you, maybe it was the only way nineteen year old jake could’ve talked to you and get one step closer to your world after admiring you from the sidelines for months. 

‘the bookstore, i think it’s a place where i realised that i’m in love with you. a place where i made all my decisions about you, where i shared my firsts and lasts with you— as promised. if you’re wondering why i’m writing a letter in this date and era,’ 

his eyes are a little blurry, there’s a picture of you in the said book store in his mind. it’s like a nineties short film— a grainy image, slightly blurred, the voices are muffled, but jake feels every emotion down to the very core of his heart. 

on some days, he ends up in front of the same bookstore. there are evenings he sets out on a journey with no destination, wherever the roads take him. his eyes are up towards the sky, usually towards the venus shining like a gemstone, he likes to think it’s you, that you ended up being the favourite star in the sky. on evenings like those, jake sits outside the very bookstore his and your story originates from and lets his mind play the picture, tracing over the image of you in his mind. sometimes, he goes inside and sits at the same place you both used to sit, he’d pick the same books you used to read, occasionally coming across tiny doodles you left on some pages even though it violated the rules.  

‘it’s because i’m afraid i haven’t loved you enough,’ 

the words hit him like a train travelling at hundreds of kilometres per hour. jake pauses, putting aside his glass of alcohol, letting the words and tears you spilled on the paper diffuse through the tips of his fingers, wanting them to flow like they’re the blood in his veins. he reads it all over again, a single tear rolls down his cheek, a lifeless sigh escapes his mouth.  

‘because you were there on nights i stayed in the library to study for exams. you were there, at my door, whenever i needed you to drive me to classes. you were there outside my class, waiting for me, during lunch when i needed someone to hear my complaints, at the bus stop on days it got late because you didn’t like the idea of me going home all alone at night,’

because you were there on noons that jake had trouble remembering reactions of carboxylic acids and amines. you were there to bring him snacks or lunch whenever he got a little too immersed in concepts of quantum mechanics to even remember about his meals. you were there when he called you to complain about his professor, who kept adding his name to every single project, all because jake was an excellent student. when you stayed with him throughout the evening and beyond at the campus, accompanying you to your apartment late at night was the least he could do to thank you. 

‘you were there on the night it was raining and the power went out. i still remember how you looked— drenched and worried with your phone’s flashlight turned on, standing at my doorstep. you said that the crime rates were high and that it’s better for me to stay at your place that night. you were there for me day, noon and night, and all i’m doing in the end is saying goodbye.’ 

it was his first instinct— maybe even beyond first, if it exists, because the power went out in your whole neighbourhood, and jake was already calling you while running down the streets, towards your apartment, with nothing but his flashlight to guide him through the complete blackout that night. when you asked him why he was at your place, he spent ten minutes looking for an appropriate reason. perhaps, it was because he wanted to see you, or because he was worried to death, maybe acts of service are how you both look after each other— doing favours and being the helping hand. jake didn’t know, he still doesn’t know, as he sits by his kitchen counter, letting the small sips of alcohol intoxicate his systems gradually, killing him slowly, in a way that hurts so right. asking you to spend the night at his place was the toughest and the bravest decision jake had made in his entire life. 

‘agreeing to do that summer festival dance with you is still the best decision i’ve ever made, my proudest moment, and letting you step into my life was the second best. nothing compares to when you joined the music club and changed my life forever.’ 

the summer festival dance— jake remembers it, the memory is as clear as a crystal in his head, ingrained in his mind, every single second playing at the back of his mind even when he’s half wasted, as if he’s reliving the moment. no one had enough time to dedicate themselves to a mere summer festival dance, but jake saw you looking at the flyers on the notice board just three minutes after he had told jay that dancing was not his thing, and he knew he needed to get that dance with you. 

getting partnered up with you was a pure coincidence, but everything that led to it wasn’t. the deliberate bumping in the hallways and the extra cups of coffee that jake bought every morning for a friend that never seemed to attend classes, everything led to him and you standing in the practice room in front of him, helping him come up with dance steps for audition, which finally led to his selection on the team. 

jake attempts to gulp down all the contents of his glass before realising that it’s empty. another sigh falls off his lips as he reaches out for the bottle kept across the counter, pouring him yet another glass for the evening, another day spent drinking while drowning in the thoughts of you, another line of intoxication, another stray tear rolling down his face, another memory creeps inside his brain— this first dance rehearsal. 

he could’ve sworn, his heart stopped beating for good ten seconds when the instructor told him that he needed to lift you up for a dynamic step during the intro. it was simple— you in front of him, his hands on your waist, he would lift you up— but the hands on the waist, his hands on your waist, jake felt like he was about to pass out. the second time his heart skipped a beat was when you grabbed his hands and put it on your waist because he was hesitating beyond belief, and that was the beginning of everything. 

and the hand stayed there for as long as jake could remember. his hand resided on your waist whether you both were crossing the road, or sitting on a park bench while you showed him pictures of layla you look the evening before, or while taking mirror selfies, or in all those moments that he spent slow dancing across the living room with you. it was as if your waist had been the home his hands were searching for and now that you’re gone, they feel empty. in the silence suffocating him, sitting on a chair with his head hung low, the floor looks so pretty. there's a faint reflection of him on the tiles, then his eyes land on his hands.

maybe it's the timing that has been making him feel this way. perhaps, it's the location, the empty rooms with threatening silence and the empty streets, the empty hallway, the empty hours, the lack of something and abundance of everything— it's making him go insane. it’s the empty pockets of the seconds that pass by, an undisturbed wave of silence that is disturbed everytime he sighs or gets his glass on the granite kitchen countertop, pouring himself another glass of cancer.

he sniffs, it could be from cold or tears. jake can’t point to the reasons anymore. his gaze settles on your letter that lies on his lap, a few of his tears soak through the paper. he puts his glass aside once to pick up the letter and pads on your words with his fingertips, not wanting them to get smudged by his tears. occasionally, he tries to convince himself that this is a dream. that you're here, somewhere, perhaps at work or at the nursery, maybe out shopping with a friend or at your parent's house because you've been missing them lately. jake imagines himself waiting for you at the station or the bus stand or the airport, smiling like a fool because he hasn't seen you in days and finally he can have you close to him, his lips on yours, your hand in his,

but now, his hands feel emptier. 

there's a yearning for something he doesn’t know. his apartment feels emptier, the stillness amongst your stuff that lies around even after eight months of your death is paralysing. his arms stretch across the bed at night in hopes of feeling something, anything. he takes another sip from his glass, eyes focusing on your letter once again as he reads further. 

‘you can call me crazy but every second with you felt like living in a whole new world. i started noticing things i didn’t before— seriously, who even smiles while watching wind ruffle through clothes hung up for drying? it was as though i was living a monochromatic life, the same routine, same pattern; then it was you, and everything around me became so beautiful. suddenly, i stopped caring about assignments because i needed to talk to you all night. i didn’t care what i was getting into by skipping prof. hong’s lectures because we got to hang out together. i was knee deep in troubles but god, i was so happy because i had you standing in front of me, and i knew you’d pull me out. i know you’d be on the ninth cloud while reading this, probably even call me stupid but i don’t mind because it’s true; i am madly, stupidly, crazily, insanely in love with you,’ 

jake remembers the day he came to your apartment for the very first time. 

you two weren’t dating, but the line in between had started to blur, fading into something none of you could see but both of you enjoyed. amidst alcohol and the faint odour of cigarettes that encapsulates him, being all the reasons behind his stumbling steps and hazy mind, jake could still see you clearly in the back of his mind— the way you glowed under the mid-morning sun, the warm breeze sweeping away stray strands of your hair out of your face, and your arms raised up above your head to hang the clothes up for drying. he could make out your smile through the silence between you two. no words were shared, but the fluttering glances and quiet smiles said more than any words could ever convey.

and then jake realised— it wasn’t just you feeling this way. 

the presence of something intricately new in your daily routine, although too minute to point out with your fingers, lingered throughout his days and nights after meeting you. suddenly, the boring computer science lessons didn’t seem bad, for you would visit him after the classes. jake, who used to arrive in class exactly on time, started arriving minutes and hours early just to see you, maybe, even strike a conversation. you had mentioned to him your favourite thing about him— the way his hands hesitatingly slide inside his pockets whenever one of your friends mistook him as your boyfriend. it was the way he smiles, the subtle rosy tint on his cheeks, the shy gaze travelling everywhere but to your face because he was too embarrassed to look at you. being mistaken as each other’s lovers was a mistake none of you clarified, and it was only a matter of time before it came true.

when his eyes settled on your panting for hair in a secluded corner of the hallway after running out of professor hong’s classes while he was just about to notice you two was the moment jake fell in love with you.

and jake falls first, he falls hard. 

because there were two tickets to the movie in his pockets with words of asking you out on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken, and he was too busy being enamoured by your laughter as you leaned against the wall, catching your breath. your laugh is the music to his ears, watching you is better than any movie ever directed, and the feeling of his lips on you just a minute later in the same corner of the hallway is still the best feeling he has ever felt in his entire life. you were like a painter and his life— a canvas; and it was only after you he started seeing colours.

jake could get any girl he wanted but it was only after you, he realised who he needed in his life. 

‘remember the day you proposed to me? i cried all night.’

and jake lets out a dry chuckle as he reads through those words, gripping his glass a little tighter, feeling the carved patterns through the tip of his fingers. his eyes travel to the ring adored on his finger. it’s one thing keeping him close to wherever you are, and his eyes occasionally travel to the pen lying stray across the counter after he wrote something he, himself, doesn’t member. his fingers brush over the words you’ve written, letters that insinuate of you as he weep with love— jake wants to write back to you but he couldn’t, for he doesn’t know your new address.

‘it felt like a fever dream, the thought of marrying you. we met at nineteen, we fell in love at twenty, we got married at twenty-two— all under twenty-five, it was scary. it was like a thrill ride, like a rollercoaster, i had my parents tell me to wait things out. there were people who told me things, words about how i should be sure of who i’m marrying, certain if that person is right for me. it was the world against you and me, and i hate to admit that i understood their stance, but they never knew you like i do. they knew the jake who i fell in love with deeply enough to marry within four years. in their story, it was you and me and our young and immature love, and that’s it.’ 

it’s ironic because jake didn’t sleep all night after you said yes to his proposal. getting married at twenty-two was an adventure, you being the general instigator all, and he would just follow. waiting things out wasn’t even an option when it came to you, he knew what he wanted. you cried even while buying your engagement rings, on the wedding dress trial, the day before the wedding, and jake was there, every single time, holding you close, smiling against your lips as his kisses soothed you down. his heart was overflowing with love, with happiness he couldn’t contain.

being engaged was an eccentric feeling overall.

you weren’t his girlfriend, nor his wife. fiancée would be a better term, but jake called it a phase of transition. the knot was yet to be tied, people tried convincing you two out of it left and right. uncertainty spun in the air instead of saccharine smiles that usually cloud the days during weddings. it was the world against him and you— him, you, and your young immature love, a pair of rings exchanged, a promise made, a promise to stay.

and jake chuckles again, half annoyed, perhaps at fate, perhaps at himself. you promised to stay. another sip of alcohol goes down his throat, it tastes bitter than it used to. your picture in his head gets clearer as his vision starts to lose focus, your laughter echoes through the cracks in his heart. it reflects through every corner of his body, it stays inside with a yearning that makes him ache for you. your memory is now a child that he tries to lose in a grocery store, but also a place he comes to at the end of the day because nothing quite feels like home anymore. 

‘do you remember that conversation we had about secret codes? one that went on about how even inanimate objects could have ways to communicate? that is how i feel about you. it’s untranslatable, i cannot put it in words for others to understand. it’s a language that only me and my heart know.’

it all started on your very first marriage anniversary— heavy rains, skies painted grey, thunders seemed to exhibit their own orchestral opening. inside, the place was warm, his arms. sitting on the couch as you two sipped on hot chocolate, wrapped in blanket and soft giggles and laughter that emerged everytime one of you tried and stole a kiss. jake constantly apologised for not being able to do much for you and you would so exquisitely whisper to him how nothing matters as long as you have him while tracing your lips all over his face. he doesn’t remember when the conversation went from talking about how your kids would look to discussing whether the paintings hung up on the walls on your living room speak as well. no conclusion was drawn and the whole conversation was discarded as just another silly discussion, although jake knew what to make out of it.

the way you laughed when he tickled your sides, or the giggle that danced off your lips when his lips brushed against the tips of your fingers, the rhythm your heart beat when he placed his head on your chest, holding you ever so close, the conversations you two had by just looking into each other’s eyes. jake still can’t put it in words, it’s beyond the understanding of the world. he can blather about you to the stars and beyond and they would still not know you, but jake knows that if you were to come to him with a face he had never seen and a voice ever so unfamiliar, he would still know you. you’re far too well intertwined in his soul, he feels pieces of himself disappearing every time a distant memory of you blurs in his mind.

and perhaps, the stars will go out before he forgets you.

‘i don’t know if i chose the right university to graduate from, if my major was worth the effort, if giving up on caffeine was actually good for my health. there are a lot of things i’m unsure of, but jake, my darling, you, you’re one thing i know i got right. you’re something i’d choose over and over again, over a thousand times over a thousand years in a thousand different worlds. people have their doubts but i don’t, because i know that if i’m ever given a chance, i’d choose to take your jacket again, i’d have that dance with you, i’d fall for you at nineteen and i’d marry you under twenty-five once again.’ 

there’s a sense of uncertainty that always plagued his mind, at all points of his life. even now, when he’s sitting by the counter drinking glasses after glasses, an ashtray just a few inches away with the smoke still emerging like lifeless souls looking for their graves. there’s a voice that is telling him to stop, it sounds like you, or maybe, it’s just the alcohol playing tricks again.

he’s not sure.

nineteen year old jake didn’t know if he wanted you. he had a lot on his plate— expectations from people he knew, a whole life in front of him and he was out in the wild, with no plans or whatsoever. you were like another wind blown past him one august afternoon, your smile just another thing his eyes passed by, yet the first thing to flood his mind at night. it’s the sheer lack of certitude— why did he give you his jacket? why did his mind think of only you when it came to the summer festival dance? why is it that only your eyes seemed like his entire world? jake has been walking with his steps laced with hesitation, a fear of what could go wrong. it didn’t matter when it came to you. nineteen year old jake didn’t know if he wanted you, albeit he knew he didn’t want anyone else to have you.

‘you’re probably wondering why i’m writing this instead of telling you when i had the time, or why i didn’t give this to you sooner. it’s because i want you to read this if you ever feel lost, and i wanted to take my time and choose the right words. i wished for a life where i wouldn’t have to live without you, and if i knew that would end up with heavens changing our fates, i would’ve done anything to save you from this pain.’ 

his eyes are the first to remember. the face that he once cradled in his hands, now just a figment of his memories, an illusion he sees through mirrors and turns around frantically, heart beating out of his chest, hoping you’re still here. sometimes, he sits at the bus stands and formulates your responses to everything happening around. he sighs, brushing his fingers over the wedding ring as he pictures you looking up at him with a smile, as if you’ve never been happier. the way he had felt and the way he feels— the bittersweet ache between having and wanting— your words drown him in that pain over and over again.

loving you, to jake, is like knowing you before he actually got to know you. as if you had always existed in his heart and your presence only completed the puzzle. and in that brief moment between— wrapped in your arms, he would think, how lucky i am— a pause as he snaps back to reality.

how lucky he was.

‘i know this is an impossible bargain, i cannot swap your pain for something else even though i wish i could. i cannot make you forget me so that you can live a better life. it’s a pity, a shame, i’m sorry,’ 

he furrows his brows at your words, the one about living a better life without you, it’s a lie, a hypothesis never to be true. you held him close at times he didn’t feel like himself, when his own skin disgusted him and his own thoughts told him to cut the string, you wiped his tears and accepted his pain like your own— jake sniffles above the silence in the room— how could he live, when the very person who taught him to live left him forever? 

‘so for you, jake, my love, i wish you a lifetime of happiness and health. i want you to read this and realise the impact you had in my life. if you ever feel like we got to spend a very little time together, one that went by in a blink, i want you to know that your presence is something i’d hold in my heart for a thousand lifetimes. i won’t tell you to move on quickly, it’s hard, i know. instead i want you to take your time. go easy on yourself. let me go, one by one, one finger at a time,’

he reads the same words over and over again— let me go. to let you go, oh, how he wishes he could do that, but that’s the consequence of falling in love. jake would go out in the mornings to find a purpose, his ring kept undisturbed on the bathroom counter, and he would return home in the evening, back to silence and sorrow, holding the ring in his hand, fist close to his heart, him on the bed, and the night fills with his sobs.

jake didn’t lose you all at once, but instead, he’s losing you slowly, bit by bit, over and over again. he loses you whenever he absentmindedly calls out your name from across the house, only to be met with cold silence. he walks down the street and loses you the moment he sees a couple walking past him, hands intertwined, realising his hands would forever remain empty. he loses you everytime he thinks of kissing you, holding you, wanting you; every time he sits on the couch and watch the skies pour outside, drinking hot chocolate all alone. he loses you when nights get cold and he has no one to hold, and in the morning when he wakes up to the emptiness across the sheets, he begins to lose you all over again.

it’s hard to let you go, one finger at a time, when everything prompts him to get on his knees in front of the universe and beg for one chance to pull you back in his arms, to hug you for one last time.

just once more.

‘there wasn’t a second spent with you when i wasn’t smiling. you made me the happiest person in this entire world and in return, i wish the same for you. so, go and live the life you’ve wanted to live. do everything you had planned and become the person you want to be. when your friends reach you out, go out with them and drink your heart out. you’re not alone because your love isn’t the first to leave. even worlds apart, i’m with you. i’ll be there next to your favourite umbrella hoping that you remember to take it on rainy days. on nights you can’t sleep, i’ll be there holding your hand and singing to you. one day, you’ll be fifty, and i’ll be there with you. when you turn ninety, i’ll be there and i will still love you the same as i did when we were twenty. and if you fall in love with someone and decide to take the vows again, i’ll be there with you, and i’ll be there hoping for the happily ever after that you deserve.’ 

and unknowingly, you went away making yet another promise to stay, another commitment you couldn���t keep. jake knows his love isn’t the first to leave, it stays there, waiting, weeping, wanting. it stays everywhere you’ve ever been, next to your favourite mug that is still on the shelf, next to his. his love is with your toothbrush in the bathroom, with the picture of you and him on your very first date that is adorned in the photo frame kept in the bedroom. it’s ingrained in all the post-it notes you wrote to him that he has kept safely in a box, in all the matching jewellery you had got for the two of you, in every corner of the house that cries, yearning for you. 

he could be fifty and his love would be still there, in the fading polaroids and letters torn from the corners. at ninety, his love would be still there, waiting for you, his heart aching because he wanted to get old with you by your side. his love will stay there, for a thousand lifetimes, over a thousand years. it turns out, jake is just good at sad things, waiting, holding on, remembering.

‘whatever comes forth, wherever life leads you, know that i am with you,’ 

as for your words— jake scoffs, burying his head in his hands, tears smudging between his palms and cheeks— loving someone else isn’t even an option. 

to him, you, dead, are better than anyone else alive. 

‘until we meet again.’ 

[cowboycoups]

What’s for breakfast?

Pairing: fem!reader x Mingyu

Wc. 2.1k

Summary: It’s the morning after you dom Mingyu and wake up to him making you breakfast in nothing but an apron.

Warnings: smut!, porn no plot, afab reader, pet names, gendered terms, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, teasing, slapping, slight fingering, overstimulation

Author note: It's currently five in the morning,, but thanks for the support on my first post!! Wrote this after waking up starving. Felt full seeing all the likes on my first post though LOL. Could be seen as a pt. 2 to my Cheol one if you imagine it's him instead tbh. Ib: an imagine someone sent me

—

It's the next morning and you wake up to the sweet smell of what seemed to be pancakes? Waffles? You didn’t know. But what you did know was that you were starving.

You sit up slowly from your bed as you begin to focus your eyes, rubbing them gently.  You look down to realize that you were still naked from the night prior with Mingyu and stumble out of bed to put on his shirt that's been lying on the floor.

You leave the room and enter the kitchen, where you are met with Mingyu, who's been cooking breakfast for you.  You stand in place as your eyes slowly move down as you realize that he's in nothing but an apron.

As Mingyu cooked, he kept glancing over at you with a smug grin on his face. It was obvious that he was still in a good mood from last night. "Morning, beautiful. How ya feeling?"

Your eyes begin to move once more before you lock them on his back where you see all the marks and hickeys you had left from last night.

He chuckled softly before turning around and put down the pan he had been using. Mingyu then walked over to you and picked you up into his arms, carrying you over to the table where he had prepared your guys’ plates earlier. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." He said jokingly.

As you continued staring at his hickeys, he leaned forward and kissed you passionately on the lips, holding himself close against you as he did so. 

Once he broke off the kiss, he turned his head to the side and looked into your eyes lovingly with a smile. "Did you enjoy last night? Did you like how rough we were together?" He asked with his voice filled with lustful desire.

“It was amazing. Seeing you in just an apron is making me wanna go again” You bite your lips with a smirk as you place your hands on his side, slowly sliding them up and down.

Smirking mischievously, he nodded slowly. "Oh really now?" He teased playfully, leaning forward and pressing his chest against yours as he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other hand rested gently on your cheek. "Then why don't we?"

Mingyu quickly got onto all fours as he reached out to grab hold of your thighs firmly. "Tell me... who owns this body of mine?" he whispered huskily, staring directly into your eyes as he began licking along your inner thigh slowly.

Sometimes Mingyu tried to take you on and test his limits.  He would try to dominate you, but you always made it clear who was in control.  Although he almost got to you a few times, you had always shut it down.

Feeling his warm breath caress your sensitive flesh sent shivers through your entire body causing goosebumps to rise across your skin. As if reading your mind, Mingyu took advantage of that momentary distraction by sliding two fingers inside you without warning. "Tell me"

The sudden intrusion caused you to gasp loudly which only served to encourage Mingyu further as he pushed deeper inside you with a thrusting motion. "Who do I belong to?" he demanded sternly, continuing to drive his finger hard within you until they were coated in your sticky fluid.

“M-me” you stammered out as your legs began to shake. Hearing your stutter made him freeze for a brief moment as he stared up at you with wide eyes. The sound of your voice had taken him completely off guard as he felt himself becoming overwhelmed with emotion, feeling like he couldn't think straight. "...I see"

“You belong to me.” you declared as you gripped onto his hair, his heart skipping a beat as you did so.  His breathing became heavy as he looked up at you while still kneeling between your legs. "...Yours? You sure about that?" He asked curiously, not knowing how far he should continue to push things.

Your grip tightened around him, his eyes widened slightly as he found himself unable to move or speak. He could feel the heat rising in his face as he continued to stare up at you while waiting for you to continue.

You pull him up by his hair and turn him around.  He was left speechless as he suddenly found himself pinned against the table by your strength. All he could do was stare blankly with his puppy-dog eyes as he waited for whatever would happen next.

You continue to maintain eye contact with him as you trace your hands over to his cock underneath the apron.  He froze once more upon feeling your hand grasp his cock, his breath quickening as his body began to become tense. 

As you began to jerk him off, he let out another small gasp, closing his eyes tightly as he tried desperately to control himself.

After moments had passed, he finally gave in to the pleasure and began moaning loudly, gripping the edge of the table even harder as he arched his back forward. The sound of flesh slapping together filled the room along with the occasional groan escaping his lips. "Ahh-!”

His hands gripped tighter onto the edge of the table as he continued to moan, letting out a low grunt every now and then. His breathing became heavier as he reached his climax, his cock twitching as it shot its load all over the floor beneath him.

“Who told you you could cum?” You demanded. He gasped for air as he slowly regained his composure, letting out a small whimper of discomfort as he lowered himself against the table. He felt embarrassed that he had just allowed himself to climax so quickly, feeling ashamed that he didn't even have the chance to properly resist.

You slap him across the face. “I said who told you you could cum?” His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, trying his best to hold in the moans that threatened to escape his lips. He didn't know how to respond to your sudden outburst, not expecting you to hit him.

He looked away from you, not wanting to look at you or admit to liking what you were doing. You suddenly grip him by his jaw.  “Apologize.”

He nodded obediently, leading his eyes back over to yours. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he did enjoy having someone else take control over him like this. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction knowing that he was powerless against you. But still, he found himself unable to speak up despite wanting to say something.

“I said apologize.” You slap him again.  He shut his mouth tightly, gritting his teeth together as he let out a low moan. His body tensed up as another wave of pleasure hit him, making him shiver as he looked down at you. “Y-Yes... I’m sorry…” he said as he looked away again.

“Aren't you?” You smile before going in to kiss his cheek.  As you kissed him, his heart skipped a beat as he felt himself become aroused once again. He felt himself getting hard under your touch, but he didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing. Instead, he tried his best to hide himself, hoping that you wouldn't notice.

Despite his efforts, you ran your fingers over his apron and felt his bulge forming.  He shuddered as he felt your fingers caressing his hardened cock, trying his best to hold himself together. He knew that he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he couldn't help himself. He was turned on by the fact that you were in control and that he was powerless against you. 

You push him back and cause him to fall onto the table. “Let's start round two” His face flushed red with embarrassment as he lay. The cold surface against his back sent chills through his entire body as he waited for whatever punishment awaited him next.

You push his apron to the side to reveal his hard cock and slap it.  He gasped loudly as he felt your hand smack his throbbing cock. A small amount of pre-cum leaked from his tip as he bit his lip.

“Mmm, I feel so wet already.” He blushed at your words, feeling himself become even harder as he lay there helplessly. His mind raced with thoughts of how bad he must look right now, lying naked and vulnerable while you hit him.

You climb up onto the table and mount him.  His breathing became heavy as he stared up at you, unable to move or speak as you spread yourself apart and lowered yourself onto his cock. Overwhelmed, All he could do was stare blankly as he let out soft moans of pleasure.

He groaned softly as he began thrusting upwards into you slowly.  He couldn't help but let out soft, needy whimpers as you rode him.  His body tensed as he moved, only thinking about how much he wanted to please you.

You lowered yourself towards him and gripped his face “You feel so good, baby boy”.  Your touch sent shivers down his spine as he looked up at you with a pout. The way you spoke to him made him sound almost childish. Almost innocent.

You pumped him slowly, taking him deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust. You were in control and all he could do was surrender himself to you.  “Mmm… just like that”

Your words seemed to encourage him greatly as he nodded eagerly and began to thrust faster. You rode him rougher as he cried out “Yes..! Yes..!”.

“Cum now… cum inside me..” You breathily let out.  Feeling the warmth of his cum fill you, you continued your movements.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked up at you as you moved although he had already cum. It was almost as if you were trying to make him cum again with what was no longer left in his body. 

He let out another loud cry of discomfort as you rode him even harder.  The sound of his whimpers only served to turn him on further. The thought of you hearing such sounds coming from him made him feel incredibly vulnerable. 

His cries of pleasure were almost deafening at this point. He could feel his entire body tingling with anticipation of what was to come. The pain of overstimulation flooded through his whole body, sending him spiraling out of control.

“You're doing so good for me babyboy” You assured as his legs violently shook.  He whimpered softly as you spoke to him. Your words were music to his ears, and he didn't want to stop listening to them. In fact, he was desperate to hear more. So much that he couldn’t focus on anything else right now. Just your voice...and your words.

“Oh my god you feel so good inside me” you moaned. 

Your words drove him wild. They were like nothing else in the world.  It hit him like an electric shock. A wave of euphoria washed over him as he listened.

“I think- I-I'm gonna cum”  You could hear his breathing pick up as you spoke.  You squirted with his cock still inside you and twitched with sensitivity. As you came, he tightly gripped onto your hips, desperate to feel every last bit of your release on him. He couldn't believe how amazing it felt. He was dripping in your climax now, and it made his heart race with excitement. He wanted you to keep cumming, over and over again.

After holding yourself up on top of him for a while, you dismounted him and laid on him as you let one of your legs fall off the table. “Thank you…”

He smiled widely at you once you finished riding him. You looked stunning laying there atop him, covered in sweat and satisfaction. His hands ran through your hair affectionately. “Thank you too. That was incredible.” You gently kissed him on his lips upon hearing him. 

He loved being kissed by you. It caused his heart to race greatly. It was like his entire body was alive again, pumping with energy and excitement. As you pulled away from the kiss, he knew he had found something incredible. You. You were his kink. His everything. And he was never letting you go.

[petermorwood]

I first read this book when I was about ten years old - a senior cousin's copy - and finding a scan on the Comic Book Plus website let me refresh memories long ago consigned to the furthest recesses of the Mind Palace (or in my case, Untidy Mind Attic).

Its stories are fairly typical Ripping Yarns, but I'd forgotten just how Keen On Sport "The Champion" was. The title alone should have warned me, because there are six annuals on the website, all full of Hearty, Keen and Sporty goings-on.

I've posted more than once that Organised Sport was at the bottom of any list of Things I Liked To Do. In particular I detested the compulsory variety inflicted at Big School, which started happening when I was about eleven and made recollections of Jim's jolly-good-stuff annual increasingly sour.

A lot of the stories are pure sport, but several others have their sporting angle jammed into action-adventure yarns of completely non-sport-related genres, often with all the subtlety of a square peg put into a round hole with a sledgehammer.

For instance, "Rockfist Rogan of the RAF", hero of World War Two air-combat stories, was better known in his story universe as a boxer than as a fighter pilot.

Despite this, illustrations of aircraft were spot-on - as here, a Mosquito FB Mk VI with Dornier Do.217s overhead and a nosed-over Typhoon Ib in the background, or Spitfire Mk IXs defending B-24 Liberators against Messerschmitt Me.163 rocket fighters (though from the text description they should have been Me.262 jets. Oh well.)

If readers of "The Champion" were anything like readers of the war comics I used to read, the editor would have got a lot of disapproving letters if those illustrations weren't accurate. I might have sent one myself about the Messerschmitt error.

At least I might have done if I'd been of letter-writing age, rather than not yet born...

The Rogan stories aren't the only example of Sport In Unexpected Places. There's "Cap' Dan, the Sporting Pirate" (snrk), "The Racing Rajah", "The Sporting Mountie", "Johnny Fleetfoot the Redskin Winger" (rolleyes) and "Kog's Amazon Marathon", which reads like "Apocalypto" remade with a cast of Keen and Sporty English schoolboys.

And, thanks to how language and attitudes have changed, one story nearly sent a spray of tea across my monitor.

I don't think either the title or the plot would work very well today...

:->

[gyuuberryy]

No fucking way, that bitch accused you too? WTH

https://www.tumblr.com/aifairy/767667992231280640/not-sure-but-this-fic-genuinely-seemed-odd-when-i?source=share

LMAOO I CACKLED WHEN I READ THAT POST THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME KNOW😂 They're using free AI checkers online and claim that they "can tell if a fic was AI generated or not". These may not really be professional credentials, but I am a computer science student(IB Higher level that too!!) AND planning to pursue it in uni, so I know enough about AI. Using AI for unethical work is..well unethical! Which is why I've never used it for writing fanfics, a purpose that doesn't really hold a lot of importance in people's lives??? AI generates the same ugly, repetitive response everytime so I wouldn't even think about resorting to it, and I don't see how Fatal Trouble shows that pattern.

@aifairy claims that chatgpt generated a similar response to my fic. first of all, the images they've attached are not the same as what I've written at all. it's talking about sunghoon giving a bite mark on the reader's neck and her thinking about the night it happened. HELLO HAVE YOU READ THE FIC? he hasn't bitten her even ONCE??? there was just a suggestive allusion to it in the end. And seriously? They're using AI checkers like ZeroGPT and GPTZero for this? Hilarious.

I can assure you I've never wasted my time by using AI to write my fics like I couldn't even think about it. Here are some things about me which will hopefully make my intentions of writing on this platform clearer:

I've been writing online since the age of 13(2020) I don't think most of the population knew about generative AI. I used to be on wattpad before tumblr and my writing has improved quite a bit since then. I joined Tumblr in 2022 and wrote a fic about the show Wednesday(again, generative AI was not trendy, where I live atleast)So what I'm trying to say is I've been writing A LONG time before language modeling AIs became trendy. I've never switched to them.

Writing and reading has been a passionate hobby of mine since I was very young. I've received several academic proficiency awards for high level subjects in english literature, english language as well other languages at school, my works have been published in my school magazines and literary competitions multiple times. I have absolutely no problem in coming up with good content and am able to execute it properly as well.

I dedicate a good amount of time every week to writing. I only stick to fanfics online, because they're more popular and in demand than writing stories with your own OCs from my experience. I want to work on writing actual stories but I'm still a school going student so I don't have enough time for that. And at the same time on tumblr I get to connect with people who share the same interest as me :)

So basically what I want to say is I do not use and have NEVER used AI to write fics, I have not used it for Fatal Trouble or any other fics from my master list. I'm literally putting out fics I've worked hard on for FREE on this platform so others from the same fantom can enjoy it as well. Be respectful about it and stop being discouraging. DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT. Writing on this account helps me improve my skills and get feedback. I don't care about what someone random online accuses me of, because ik that irl, my family, teachers and friends are aware about my skills and support me and I'm doing well in them as well :)) so I'm not going to be discouraged and stop writing<33

[levandright]

— 200 MILESTONE EVENT :

thank you everyone so much for 200 followers, i really am so greatful for all the support and love i've received from you all <3

— STATUS : CLOSED ALL 25 SLOTS TAKEN (y'all are quick i thought it'd be longer...)

— THEME : IMPORTANT PLEASE READ THOROUGHLY BEFORE SENDING AN ASK!

this will be a matchup event, hence the obligations are as of the following :

your persona : describe yourself(not neccesarily physical, could be your habits and similar stuff), your personality, your zodiac sign, your ideal type, your favourite trope, your favourite season and your hobbies. (and any info you think is important to mention!)

your fandom : aka the group you want to be matched up from, please specify it! if you don't have any group listed i'll just pick the one member i think would best suit you out of all the groups listed.

— GROUPS :

- enhypen

- nct dream

- txt

— THE PAYCHECK :

in return i will match you up with a member from the group, with no less than 3 headcanons per match! and any of the listed 'gifts' below (IF NOT SPECIFIED I WILL AUTOMATICALLY MAKE YOUR GIFT A PLAYLIST):

- moodboard

- spotify playlist specific for you and that member!

— RULES

- no nsfw, this is strictly sfw and will revolve around fluff, comfort, and crack!

- this is for my followers only, new followers are welcome to join

- first come first serve! i won't be able to do your match immediately but know that i will get to it eventually!

- ask box only!! no dms (can be anon or not whichever your more comfortable sending an ask with 💜)

- be kind and respectful! your request will be ignored if you're rude

- i will only do 25 matchups in total so any asks after i hit the maximum matches i plan to do will be deleted.

check out matchup event masterlist?

— LEV'S NOTES : thank you everyone for 200 <33 i will try to do your matchup's as soon as i can, but keep in mind that i am a busy person irl and have other things to do than write on tumblr! — thank you everyone once again, i appreciate all of your likes, reblogs, comments and support!!

— LAYOUT IB : @/salsakiyoomi

[ipsl0re]

2024 in 52 games

I maintain a list of every game I complete- get to the point where I see the end credits roll.

Partway through this year, I realised I’d surpassed my previous record for how many i can complete in one year (26), and decided, with the uncomfortable amounts of time I’ve had to fill this year, to go for an all-time max. That number reached 40 near the end of November, and a subsequent sprint brought me here: to a game a week, 52 completed.

Here’s the list, and below that, my top ten.

Bold- I recommend it.

Italics- I enjoyed it.

(honourable mention to all games in italics that didn’t make the list. It was close!)

Monster Roadtrip

Book Of Hours

Misericorde: Volume 1

Settlemoon

Cult of the Lamb

Fight Knight

Cureocity

Venba

Roboquest

Buckshot Roulette

Slay the Princess

Akin

The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood

Minami Lane

Bad End Theatre

Snufkin: Melody of Moominvalley

Sheepy: A Short Adventure

Portal

Essays on Empathy

Kinitopet

Spiritfarer

Cobalt Core

In Stars And Time

Dicey Dungeons

Sifu

Pepper grinder

Mediterranea Inferno

Ender Lilies: quietus of the knights

Cassette Beasts

Borderlands: The Pre-sequel

Live A Live

Bloodless

Clickolding

Sunshine Heavy Industries

Artic Eggs

Bad North

Horizon Chase 2

I Am Your Beast

Midnight Ramen

Lookouts

Project Wingman

A Year Of Springs

Gravity Circuit

Disco Elysium

Gris

Children of the Sun

Awaria

Neo: The World Ends With You

Resonance of the Ocean

Ib

Serre

Detective Beebo: Night at the Mansion

Top 10:

These are not ranked- though I do have a favourite, as you’ll see.

1. Book of Hours

Only finally finished it at the start of the year after playing for four months- it can’t be accused of lacking in content! Hush House is vast and full of fascinating mysteries, both physical and historical. (It’s also very Cornish, which is fun.)

The gameplay cycle of reading, learning, classifying, and using the knowledge to read ever more complex tomes really immerses you into the life of an occult librarian. Once you’ve heard the secret histories: “well, there just doesn’t seem to be anything else worth hearing.”

2. Bloodless

There is little here that wasn’t meticulously designed. Genius combat that always keeps you on the back foot and insanely good art direction that works in tandem with the hyper-defensive combat to help tell a great story on the dynamics of violence. That makes it sound very grim and serious- and I can’t pretend that it’s not when it needs to be- but Tomoe is one of my favourite characters, the warrior idols plentiful side content, and the geography of Bakugawa just a delight to explore. There is so much here to love and it breaks my heart that so few people have played this.

Please give it a look.

3. Fight Knight

I didn’t think a game like this would be made- technologically (a 3D game in gamemaker? Are they mad?) or from a design perspective. It’s a collection of old school Zelda style puzzle dungeons, with grid based movement, a save system about pushing your luck, and combat that puts you into some kind of corridor fighting game? Also you punch people to talk. And… to do everything else, too.

Despite, or perhaps in some places because of all that, I’d also consider it the most epic game I played this year, with some really touching writing. Huh.

You won’t find anything else like it. On that note…

4. Artic Eggs

I thought a game like this would exist even less- a… Post? Pre? Apocalyptic setting where you fry eggs and all sorts of other things, for all sorts of people. And a dolphin. But I can’t say I’ve stopped thinking about it since frying my first egg: I mean, could you fry an egg on mount Everest?

5. Misericorde: volume 1

A visual novel, in monochrome, without a single decision, isn’t a great sales pitch. But when it’s a 10-hour tour de force of characterisation in a murder mystery set in a medieval yorkshire abbey- and with such stunning monochrome art & 104 tracks of incredible trip-hop… well, there are few games I can recommend more heartily.

6. Disco Elysium

Look, this game will (and has already begun to) shape the entire art of games. And for good reason! The twenty-seven voices in a certain double-yefreitor’s head (if i’m counting the ancient reptilian, limbic, and necktie right) have such incredible interplay, and would make interacting with the dullest characters and situations engaging. Not that such a crutch is ever used- every storyline and three-dimensional character involved in it is often painfully human.

Few games will get you thinking about so much in its world and ours.

Also, heads up: don’t pay for the game. The actual devs don’t get a penny from the sales any more.

7. Live A Live

If Disco Elysium is what happens when RPGs are focused into telling a very specific kind of story, Live A Live is what happens when one RPG somehow manages to tell multiple totally different ones. Every story brings something new, (except prehistory. Prehistory contributes nothing.) and by spreading its efforts across all these different narrative and gameplay conventions, Live A Live stands out as almost ten times the game of many of its contemporaries.

8. Ib

Ib doesn’t alternate between being cute and being a horror game. Somehow, it pulls off both at the same time. I don’t know how but I do know it makes for a very effective experience. Ib, Garry, and Mary have such wonderful interplay, and as you explore the galleries, solve the puzzles, and lay eyes upon the sheer variety of Guertena’s works, they all bring a lot of character that helps ground the frights and bring the humanity to the quiet moments.

I’ve already got four of the endings in this game, and no doubt i’ll be going back for the rest.

9. Slay the Princess

On the subject of many endings and paths (in the woods, at the end of that path…), a game that takes that to the extreme: in the form of another horror game, with just as much heart. With intricately branching paths, there’s so much to see and hear (Nichole Goodnight is stellar with everything from angry beasts to ascendant gods, and Jon Sims, well, he needs no introduction). It’s beautiful, it’s horrifying, it’s probably made me laugh the hardest of any game this year. It is a love story.

10. Detective Beebo: Night at the Mansion.

If you play anything from this year, let it be this. The best time loop game this year- and that’s even when stacked against Cobalt Core and fellow love story Slay The Princess. Private detective Oliver Beebo is a delight to see in action, whether he’s solving puzzles, reliving traumas, or being flirted with by a hot guy. It twists the established conventions of everything it touches in ways that are touching and new- a relationship that can be seen as five or as one, brief horror used to carefully set stakes, foreshadowing aplenty merged with a unique take on player and character knowledge, and utterly incredible characters that are allowed to unfold with unparalleled care- some more than once each!

Maybe it’s recency bias making me go this far- but gods, this is a high note to end the year on.

Try it! Give it one more chance.

[loupy-mongoose]

Was all of this gallbladder stuff sudden, or is it just sudden for us because you never mentioned anything about a gallbladder removal until recently

I mentioned a few times throughout the first week of Jan. that I was having some tummy issues, but I never really brought it to the spotlight. The most I did was inform you all that I had gotten "sick", and then only a few days ago mentioned my gall bladder.

There is very little way I can call this sudden in general, however.

I'm... actually gonna put this under a read more, because it runs a lot deeper than just these last few weeks... (Kinda turned into a life-story lol)

So, throughout that first week of Jan, I was having off-and-on mild pain. Nothing too intense, and I'd been through it many, many, MANY times before. (Yeah.... MANY.)

I tried to wait it out every time, only going to Doctors twice for it, and it would eventually go away. I would be careful with my eating afterword (based on past experiences, not any research or knowledge) and eventually I'd be back to normal for the time being.

The time between spells varied. Sometimes it was only months, sometimes it was almost a year. I don't think I ever went beyond a year with no spell, but I can't remember.

This started about

TEN

YEARS

ago.

If each episode has been a pancreatitis attack, then I consider it no small miracle that I'm as good off as I am.

I went to the Doctor once for it as a youth, and they gave me some kind of IBS or other pill for bloating. They did nothing to help, and I didn't pursue any more doctor visits about it until '22.

That time the pain didn't go away for many days, and it got incredibly incapacitating. So I went to the Doctor (completely different one from the first--we'd moved states.) I got some imaging done and they found Pancreatitis and Colitis. They gave me antibiotics and sent me home to recover.

But they didn't finds gallstones.

So I recovered and felt armed to better handle these pain episodes--Just limit my consumption to liquids.

Well, I was doing alright until now.

We had... a V E R Y fatty Christmas dinner, and I was grazing off of the worst of it the following week.

Then, come New Year's Eve, I start to feel that little ache. I... I ignored it, and ate some of the goodies we'd prepared for the night, a little more reserved about it than I normally would've been. Eating has always been one of my absolute favorite parts of that time of year, and I didn't want to let my potential stomach issue completely ruin it for me.

I'm actually surprised by how mild the pain was at first, given all the nasty stuff I'd been eating.

Anyway, that mild pain subsided, and I foolishly let myself eat some more leftover goodies, thinking I was being careful. And of course, it came back.

This went on through the week, with me gradually being more and more careful about what I ate, trying to eat more stomach-bug friendly foods like crackers and toast.

A night finally came where it was so irritating that I threw up. That night it instantly made me feel better. I still increased my carefulness in consumption the following day, taking in nothing but a couple cups each of Pedialyte and chicken broth.

But still it came back. And that was the night it got bad.

I threw up a couple more times that night, and instead of helping this time... the second time left me in a lot of pain. So much that it was uncomfortable to breathe. Uncomfortable to do anything.

Thankfully my dad didn't have work that night (he works overnights), so we ultimately decided at about 6 am to take me to the emergency room.

There they found the gallstones and got blocking ones out of the way, and I spent the following week recovering in the hospital.

It seems most likely that gallstones have been the offender all these years, but the symptoms never quite matched that. I remember once looking into Pancreatitis and seeing that the symptoms matched that pretty well, but never let gallstones settle as an option.

Anyway, I guess I can at least say I have some closure after all this time. It'll be good to finally be free from this plague!

[midoriima]

family line | ushijima wakatoshi

[!!!] toxic/physically & emotionally abusive mother, (fem! she/her) reader is a parent-child, mentions of scars & bruises, implications of r@p3. ib maquia: when the promised flower blooms, read at your own discretion cos it might hit close to home, this is kinda a vent after all.

There was nothing special in particular about this evening. Wakatoshi had just finished washing up and is now getting ready to drift off to sleep, as you are in the next room, but when his head hits his pillows, he begins to remember a few blurry memories.

"He is your responsibility! Your ___ is your responsibility so you have to take care of him because I'm busy!" You'd told him he hit his head really hard one time when he was younger, hence why he can't remember the exact words, voices, or faces, but one thing he remembered with that statement was he saw you.

He'd remembered this a few times, but only now did he realize that he did see you. He was very small compared to you but one thing that didn't sit right with him everytime he thought about it was that you looked young.

He always brushed it off as, 'she must have had me when she was young,' but now that he can remember a little clearly, you looked incredibly young and it disturbed him. You looked weak, covered in scars and bruises here and there, and while you were "matured," you definitely did not look like one.

Was she... no, he shook his head, anything but those assumptions, if it ever were the case, he's not sure he'd be able to keep his hands from ruining whoever did it.

He thought some more, it was future schoolwork but he didn't want to stress himself out with it. But right as he closed his eyes, tears fell. Ah, another memory,

You were dressing him up in nightclothes, you carried him on one arm, turned the lights off and tucked yourselves into the comfy sheets of the bed. It was a rather cold night. It was always at least a little chilly every night but this particular night was cold.

"---, I'm cold..." His younger self complained, shivering and curling into a ball, his forehead hitting your shoulder and when he feels the warmth of your body, he inches closer, expecting you to embrace him.

For some reason, he just can't seem to remember what he called you. Surely it had to be 'mum,' because what else?

"Oh! Then, can we cuddle? Only if you're alright with it. I can always get more blankets." He shook his head at your response, "cuddles, please." And that's what happened.

He remembers how he would always crave your attention. Your praises and affection always got him going, that's why he always smiled with you. But he gets angry when you get hurt and also cry when you cry, trying to comfort you like you do with him as streams of tears slowly fall and sobs escape his lips.

I'm very lucky my mother is a good one, he thinks to himself in the midst of reminiscing. You weren't perfect, of course, but unlike other mothers, all the good things you've done for him overwhelms your mistakes as his parent figure.

About to drift off to dreamland, he ponders once more,

Who's his dad? Where is he now? What happened with you? Why did he leave? Or, at least, why is he not here with you?

These questions got him staying up a little later. He wonders how young you two might have been when you had him if you looked that young in his memories. Or maybe you just looked really young?

That said, you always avoided telling him your age. He's sure he's the only son in this galaxy who doesn't know the age of his mother. And that said, why do you avoid it?

He thinks you might really have been young and were too ashamed, he guessed, to say because you might think his attitude towards you would shift once he knew but he reassured you in his own thoughts that he wasn't going to do that.

@midoriima i don't remember the exact details of how i wanted this to go nor do i remember why i wrote this or what message i wanted to to convey but i do remember this was written as a way to vent in the form of fanfic and not entirely alike what i felt or experienced at that time.

also, go check out more on my masterlists cos these partial works are open for any continuation or derivatives, etc. but on one condition: ask permission 🤗 that's allll

[kissorkill16]

Robot Mother: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: The Roths hire a nanny robot that's way too good at its job.

(P.S. for @ghostly-writers !)

"Narf, come downstairs for a moment!"

Nicky put down the book he was reading and walked downstairs when he heard his mother calling him.

When he got to the living room, he was not expecting what he saw next.

Standing in the living room was his mom, his dad, and a robot. What was a robot doing in the living room?

His dad put a hand on the robot's shoulder, "Narf, this is Diana, our new nanny robot. She's going to be taking care of you while me and your mother are working from now on."

Nicky's jaw dropped when he said that.

A nanny. His parents got him a nanny. It was kind of cool that it was a robot, just not that it was a nanny.

Nicky had never had a babysitter before, they had Bubba for that. So to hear that his parents got someone to watch him while they were at work really didn't sit well with him.

"Mom, Dad, answer me honestly.", said Nicky, "Do either of you know how old I am?"

His mother rolled her eyes, "Nicky, real nannies are weekly paid for. We only had to pay once for this one.", she said. "It's not like we don't trust you or anything, it's just that after the stunt you and Aaron pulled at Mrs. Tillman's store, I'm scared to leave you alone for a while."

Now it was Nicky's turn to roll his eyes.

His dad walked up to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Narf, c'mon. Just give it a couple of days. You might actually like Diana.", she gestured to the robot. "And the best part is she kinda looks like Mrs. Peterson from across the street, that's why I suggested this one. I thought you'd like it."

Nicky wasn't sure if that was exactly the best part about the nanny robot. He didn't exactly like the idea of a nanny robot that looked like his friend's mom, it would feel like his mom would be Nicky's mom too.

And how would Mrs. Peterson react to this?!

Anyway, he knew there wasn't much he could do about this, his parents had already made up his mind. Diana looked at Nicky and waved at him with her robotic arm.

"Hello, Nicholas. My name is Diana, and I will be your nanny robot. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Nicky waved back at her, but the sour look on his face didn't fade.

After that day, he tried to get used to Diana. He wasn't mean to her, but he didn't try to be friends with her either. After all, she was just a robot doing her job, she wasn't here to be friends with him, she was here to take care of him.

One morning, he woke up to the smell of pancakes. He got up and went to the kitchen, and the first thing he saw was Diana standing near the oven, frying a batch of pancakes.

She turned around to look at him, "Good morning, Nicholas. I made pancakes, would you like some?", she asked.

Nicky turned around to go back upstairs, "I'm not hungry.", he said. He jumped when he felt something cold and metal wrap around his hand. "Nicky, I scanned your weight, and it seems as though you are only 78 IBS."

"So?"

"Your mother and father told me to make sure you are safe and in perfect health, and you are underweight. I recommend that you eat something."

Nicky yanked his hand from Diana's metal hand, "I said I'm not hungry.", he sternly said. "And you're not one of my parents, so stop trying to act like you are, you sack of screws."

He was about to stomp upstairs, but Diana wrapped her metal arms around Nicky's skinny waist and carried him back to the kitchen. Nicky yelled and squirmed in her hold.

"LET ME GO, FREAK! LET GO OF ME! PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!", he yelled.

Diana sat him down at the table and sat down a plate of fresh pancakes in front of him. Nicky didn't eat them, he just looked at them.

"Eat up, Nicky.", said Diana.

"No.", said Nicky, crossing his arms.

"Nicholas, you can't leave the table until you finish your food."

Nicky rolled his eyes. Who did this robot think she was? Acting like she was his mom. "Then I'll just sit here until you run out of battery.", he said stubbornly.

Diana picked up the fork and held a piece of pancake to Nicky, "Open up for the airplane.", she said in a gentle voice. Nicky turned his head away, and Diana just grabbed his cheeks and turned his head back straight.

She made airplane noises and put the fork with pancake on it in Nicky's mouth, and Nicky felt his face heat up in embarrassment.

The robot repeated the action, feeding Nicky and making airplane noises like you'd do with a little baby. The action repeated until the plate was completely empty.

Diana picked the plate up and stroked Nicky's cheek, "Good boy, Nicky.", she said.

Nicky rolled his eyes and swatted her hand away, then he got up and was about to make his way to the front door. "I'm going to go hang out with Aaron."

Diana was quick on her feet, running to the front door and standing in front of Nicky. "I'm sorry, Nicky, but your mother said you're not allowed to hang out with Aaron anymore after something you did."

"My mother isn't here, so get off my back, scrap metal.", said Nicky.

"I apologize, Nicky. But you are not to leave this house until Mr. and Mrs. Roth return home from their business trip.", said the robot, and Nicky just felt something inside of him just snap.

"Leave me alone you pile of nuts and bolts! I don't need you to take care of me, I don't need anyone to take care of me, so just fuck off!", he said. He ran upstairs to his room and slammed the door and threw himself on his bed.

He decided to just spend the rest of the day in his room and not come out, it seemed like the best way to avoid that piece of scrap metal.

Some time that night, he fell asleep, and he gasped awake before the worst part of his nightmare kicked in.

Then he started crying.

He hugged his pillow and cried softly into it, getting it wet.

He wanted his mom.

"Mom.", he cried into the pillow, "Mom."

Just then, his door opened, and Diana walked in.

"Nicky, are you alright?", she asked. "What happened?"

Nicky turned around to face the wall, "Go away, Diana.", he said. "I want my mom, not you. Where is my mom?"

"They still won't be back for another few hours, Nicholas.", said the robot. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

Nicky still didn't look at her, but he answered her anyway. He mumbled something, but Diana didn't hear it.

"What was that?", she asked.

"I had a nightmare.", Nicky said a little louder. "Now go away."

But Diana didn't go away. Instead, she lifted Nicky in her arms and began softly rocking him like a baby.

"Diana, I -"

"Shhhh...", shushed the robot, "Don't cry, Nicky. It was only a dream."

She then began playing a soft lullaby, Hush Little Baby. Nicky listened to the lullaby, and the tears that fell from his eyes stopped as he relaxed more in Diana's hold.

"Do you feel better, Nicky?", asked the robot.

Nicky sleepily nodded at Diana, and he felt himself falling asleep again. The last thing he felt was Diana giving him a soft kiss.

Nicky woke up on the living room couch, and the first thing he noticed was that he smelled something cooking.

He slowly got up and walked to the kitchen, and he saw Diane setting down two plates of spaghetti on the table.

Diana turned around to look at Nicky, and she smiled. "Hello, Nicky. Did you have a nice nap?", she asked. Nicky nodded, looking at the floor.

He looked back at Diana with apologetic eyes. "Diana.", he started. "I wanted to apologize for being mean to you today. I'm just not used to anyone taking care of me.", he said.

Diana walked over to Nicky and patted his head. "That's alright, Nicky. I was just simply doing what I was programmed to do, which is taking care of children.", she said.

"Well, thank you for that, Diana."

He looked down at the floor again, and Diana wrapped her arms around the boy and pulled him into a hug.

"You're welcome, Nicky."

Then she gave him one more kiss.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

what're your favorite headcanons about the infinite blue boys

asdfghjkl thank you for the ask! Apologies this took so long, I love wanting to do multiple hobbies and subsequently not making progress on any of them

Anyway I'm a sucker for domestic mundane things, like the list of random facts VelvetFox posted in this ask, so here are some headcanons for the boys with that same vibe:

(I had some scraps of IB dad headcanons so those are mixed in here too)

Infinite Blue LIs x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——

Alexei:

Has journals full of thoughts and observations about anything and everything. Some of his writing is illegible and other parts make no sense to anybody but him because it's literally his runaway train of thoughts dumped onto paper. He sticks post-it notes with diagrams between the pages, jots down excerpts from Wikipedia pages, and overall it's not an aesthetic read... But flipping through can give you an idea of how this super genius's brain works.

He also writes about you in these notebooks, albeit they're written in between stuff like the thirty-seven fun facts of siphonophores and his favorite part of last night's dinner. Many of them are things you’ve never even noticed about yourself like the way you hold the steering wheel while driving. This is also where he'll stick date memorabilia, like movie tickets. (this hc was inspired by this fic by @sailxrmxrs <3)

If you two own a saucer chair or some other small round comfy seat, he'll probably fall asleep in it at least once. He curls up, all 5'10" of him tucked in that tiny space. Naturally, his body hurts when he wakes up and therefore he gets a bit grumpy. So next time if you see him dozing off maybe lead him to the couch or the bed so he can stretch comfortably.

Brooklyn:

I want to imagine that he has a closet only for his clothing irons and ironing boards. Like a fucking broom closet and you open it to see that there's those four boards and a dozen irons. These include vintage clothing irons, restored and repurposed. He knows how to use them and take care of them too. Why does this make me laugh so hard.

Clothes shopping. Take this man clothes shopping. Yes, he'll buy you anything but honestly? Even disregarding that it’s a fun time because he would enjoy discussing outfits, and if your taste isn't the same as his business-academia-formal style he could be convinced into trying an outfit you styled, or vice versa. Also he's a total simp every time you step out of the changing room. Need fit pics? He's got you covered.

Something tells me Brooklyn would enjoy snacks and desserts from around the world. He'd love to make them himself (and with you!), but you could just come home with some mitarashi-dango because your local Asian supermarket was having a sale and he's already cracking open the container for the ceremonial-grade green tea leaves.

Leo:

Leo's our favorite gamer guy, but I think he also enjoys jigsaw puzzles whether they be with his friends or you or both. These are the quiet nights where everyone is focusing, intently staring at the puzzle sitting on the coffee table while aimlessly chatting. It's super peaceful, though sometimes time slips by unnoticed and by the time you all finish it's two in the morning.

Does that thing where you put someone in a shopping car, sprint across the parking lot while pushing said cart, then jump on it while it's moving. He does it with his friends, you, and his future kid (albeit with a lot more caution). He really wants to kiss you while he’s doing it too, but maybe not because what happens if he hits a car, or worse, someone else?

While we're on the topic of transportation and kisses, every time you're sitting shotgun and he pulls the car in reverse he'll put his hand on your seat and lean in to kiss you. Every. Single. Time.

Kiss him first. It'll get him flustered. Do it.

Milo:

I want to believe he really likes having his hair brushed. If you ask him about it he'll never admit it beyond a quick affirmative, but anytime you sit behind him and start to gently run the bristles through his tangles, he could feel himself relaxing. It's soothing. He might fall asleep like that.

Milo would own a 3d printer. I have no definitive reasons why. Vibe check says he owns a 3d printer and will print out cool little knickknacks and give them to you without a word because they either help you in a mundane way (like a toothbrush holder), or he'll print out something cute like a tiny frog with a mushroom hat because he likes seeing your face light up.

Or he'll print out something cursed, like that Thomas the Tank Engine bottlecap where the liquid streams out of the eyes. It's a coin toss every time.

Rory:

Was that one kid reading with a flashlight under the covers. Even now that he's older, he likes to get a bed light and read before bed. Sometimes he gets super engrossed in it and you gotta peel that book off him. He’ll complain. Stand your ground. Otherwise he'll be super sleep-deprived and cranky the next morning.

If his future child also turns out to be an avid reader, he'll secretly change out their flashlight batteries. Or get them a night light with some half-baked excuse of, "so you don't turn on all the lights when you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and wake the entire house up." Sure, Rory.

Speaking of sleep-related things, he really likes it when you fall asleep next to him/on him. His expression melts into the softest smile and he'll pull you in tightly. If he falls asleep on you, he's the kind to unconsciously hold onto you/must be touching you at all times. He gets really embarrassed about it if you mention this to him. I recommend taking a picture and making it his contact photo.

Tobias:

Has terrible handwriting but an impeccable signature. Don't ever ask him to write the grocery list because it takes forever to decipher his chicken scratch, but he'll sign stuff for fans in one fluid stroke, and that shit looks clean. And yes, he'll offer to sign something for you too.

Loves it when he's chilling on the couch after a long day and you flop on top of him. He'll happily be your teddy bear and let you lay there for hours, the two of you chatting and watching TV while he rubs soft circles on your back. Feel free to fall asleep like that too.

He's the type to enjoy flashy, expensive dates. He takes you out in his sports car to get dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by spectating sports games from the VIP seats. But I also think incredibly mundane things, like the two of you going out just to grab ice cream in sweatpants and hoodies give him a special kind of happiness.

Seeing you sleepily rubbing your eyes as you come to pick him up from the airport is enough to make him giddy.

[marbl3z]

sleepy s/o x night owl bf (Dan Heng IB)

You two are in your room of the express, cuddling on your soft bed. Dan Heng has a book in his hand with his arm around you. Your head resting on his chest as you close your eyes to rest, not tired enough to fall asleep but exhausted enough to lay down on top of your boyfriend.

Your ear is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His soft breathing and occasional flip of a page in his historical book the only sounds filling your ears. Your hand is placed palm down onto his chest next to your head, the soft fabric of his sweater on your fingertips. You shift groggily getting his attention as he helps you get comfier.

"did I wake you by accident?" He whispers, hugging you again once you are comfortable.

"mm mm." You respond sliding your hand down his abdomen your eyes still closed.

His Vidyadhara ears twitch, feeling your hand slide down but trying to ignore it, thinking nothing of it. He continues reading until you slide your hand underneath his sweater onto his bare stomach he makes a confused squeak noise. Tilting his head to look at you, You looked so exhausted and tired he assumes you don't know what you're doing.

He wraps his arm around your waist, your hand finally stopping on the middle of his stomach and your head nuzzling into his chest. He sighs, the tip of his ears dusted red as he tries to push back your actions into the back of his mind.

He places his book down, holding you close to his chest as he reaches to the nightstand to turn the lights off.

--

I'm not finishing this, I mean I'll prolly make like. A full version or whatever but I want it out of my drafts so WEe

[agirlunfilteredsblog]

A GUIDE ON HOW TO STUDY EFFICIENTLY

Hey girls!! I know a lot of us are on break, whether that be in high school, college or university, so I figured I could maybe show you guys some tips and tricks that have helped me throughout my studies…

A little bit about my educational background:

-In high school, I was part of an IB school (the girls that know the struggle, know the struggle). If you don’t know what that is, it’s essentially a program designed to help students get a better understanding of the world and how it works. We basically do the regular high school program + the IB one, so it’s extra workload, but we do get an additional diploma at the end of our studies!

-I am now in college, studying psychology and I was recently invited to join the honors roll for my next semester (super excited about that!!). I absolutely love it and i’ve also gotten the opportunity to study other subjects such as anthropology, world history, art history, etc.

1. LEARNING WHAT TO PRIORITIZE

My biggest weakness throughout my first semester of college was balancing my workload and my social activities. Often times, I would either only do school work for weeks and not go out or simply go out until very late on school nights and get nothing done. Both scenarios are just as negative. I would be drained on the inside, and simply become exhausted by minimal activities. What helped me personally was establishing a clear schedule, which I know isn’t ideal for everyone as we all have differing schedules, but trust me, having that base helps A LOT.

2. SETTING REMINDERS TO STUDY

I dont know if this was just me, but in high school, I would constantly fall asleep and take naps after school. This would result in me totally forgetting I had to study when I woke up… Setting up reminders on my phone helped me remember what I had to do. I also included little motivational messages to keep me inspired to work.

3. KNOWING WHEN TO PUT THE BOOK DOWN

Girls, I know how hard it is sometimes to give yourself grace and put your study books down, especially when there’s a big test coming up. However, it has been proven that over reading or over studying actually has negative effects on your learning/memory. Stressing yourself out will do nothing but put you in a negative state, which is not what you want going into that exam. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, put the book down for 15 minutes and go do something that puts you at peace. Me personally, I make myself a cup of peppermint tea and put on my favorite show.

4. HAVING A STUDY METHOD THAT WORKS FOR YOU

There are many different types of study methods, so I’m not gonna tell you which one you should do as we are all different, but finding the one that works for you does ALL the difference. The way I study is very simple, I establish a game plan (I list everything I want to complete) and I give myself a time frame to complete it. The time frames are always very realistic for me, so I never have to stress about not having enough time. For each “task” I complete, I allow myself a 15-20 minute break and I study for no more than 3 hours at a time.

5. NEVER PUT STUDYING BEHIND

I am such a procrastinator, but I had to learn very quickly, especially in college, that this was not possible. The work load is so much more charged and I simply cannot get away with studying last minute. If you’re in high school, start implementing healthy study habits now, so that once you reach college, you’re already used to studying the right way (learn from me hahaha)!

I am 100% sure that there are more I’m forgetting, but these are the main ones I implement in order to keep a high average and a healthy school/social life :) I know these are very basic and you’ve probably heard of them before but I still think it’s important we talk about them to remind ourselves on what to do! If you would like more of this type of content please let me know!! My next posts will be much more light though dont worry, we are still on winter break after all ;))

so much love,

a girl unfiltered 💋