#If this gets enough attention (2 comments) I'll follow on

[iys-cloud]

hello to everyone in the void that is Tumblr, a single conversation with @arrowheadedbitch made me create a whole ass Mbav x Pjo Au and now it's everyone's problem

SO the Au starts with Ethan, Benny, Sarah, Erica and Rory going to new york for vacations and they tun into nico, leo, percy and will (nico is there bc will forced him to come along lol) in like, a remote part of a park or smt. and nico, being the son of hades and all low-key just... Senses smts wrong with the vampire trio And tells the others, leo, being as subtle as a bull with bells, points at them and says something along the lines of

"them? They're the 'dead feeling' guys??"

fast forward a lot of discussion and accusing later they're all fighting, Leo managed to stab Erica and, used to the monsters dissolving into gold powder, turns around. Erica being the petty bitch she is BITES him because that's SUCH a great idea cue everyone panicking bc at the moment the gang™ had been trying to be subtle about what they are (not that they accomplished it) and the demigods had only pulled a normal sized dagger that looked well, normal.

Rory, seeing the mess, fucking flies away, leaving the chb kids dumbfounded, sarah grabs erica and drags her away from leo, benny BOOKS IT and Ethan's on the floor wondering why can't anything go Right for them, the chb peps are wondering what new pantheon they just stumbled across and procced to get incredibly concerned because LEO IS QUITE LITERALLY DYING ON THE FLOOR.

Ethan seems to process the fact and panics but oh would you look at that, there's a bigger problem, Nico's there and since the mf can sense death he panics even harder because Leo is DYING and starts questioning them on "what the fuck is happening to him!?" And everything is kicked right back into a frenzy

Anyway long story short, the gang (minus rory and benny) ends up locked up in camp Half-blood for ✨ questioning ✨ and stay in a locked up room in the main house till Percy comes to drag Ethan and Erica out because Leo just woke up and apparently he's attacking people and making a mess out of everything???

Ethan SOMEHOW managed to convince Percy to take Sara with him instead ( "if you take Erica it'll just get worse, believe me" )

And oh boy the infermary looks like a war zone, Also are Leo's eyes glowing yellow??

He barely notices their entrance seeing as hes too busy trying to rip anyone who even comes clos eto shreds.The piper, who has been debriefed in the matter,nico, and will have sort of restrained him (pushed him into a corner with weapons).

And that sounds great and all but the thing is, Sara doesn't have the fake blood she usually drinks bc it's in her purse which the chb peps confiscated, so now they have no way to deal with the starving agitated fledgling

"well fuck" is the only thing she can think to say as she gets ready for a lot of struggling

They ( Sarah and Ethan) try to get the demigods to get Sarah's purse but they won't listen.

after a lot, and I mean A LOT of fighting, some (a hella lot of) begging from Ethans part and a little wake up call that ' hey somethings wrong!!!' (Leo throws Percy motherfucking Jackson into a wall with so much force it KNOCKS THE AIR OUT OF HIM) they do listen to them and from there it's a game of ' let's feed the starving fledgling without the other weird people finding just what we're giving him'

It somehow works because Sarah opens the container and Leo's head SNAPS towards the thing, they manage to get him into a 'safe' position while he rips into the (weirdly red) liquid with the desperation of a starving man.

everyone is trying to get air back into their lungs after the heart attack and proceed to glare daggers at Sara and Ethan

"okay what the actual fuck is happening!?!?"

[taylor-titmouse]

hey i want to talk about how you should be promoting your work as an erotic author/illustrator

i'm writing this up because the marketing aspect of my work as an erotic author/illustrator is a science to me, and also because i'm the guy who gets unreasonably annoyed when i see other creators not properly advertising their work. you presumably want to make money off your work. this post will be written under the assumption you want to make money off your work but are doing a bad job at it. it will be very confrontational. if you read this and feel attacked you're right and i am attacking you.

this is geared toward selling erotic comics/writing/books/art as products. i will probably write more than one post about this subject so if i didn't touch on something you want to know more about, comment/send me an ask and i'll keep it in mind for the next one.

i will start with my first and least specific but most important point:

DON'T GET FUCKING CUTE

hi are you paying attention. i'm gripping you by the sides of your face. do not get fucking cute with what you are trying to sell. you are not a big enough property to get cute, nobody LIKES it when big properties get cute, and you are selling porn. you have to own this. you have to be up front about this. don't be tongue in cheek, don't be all teehee i wonder what this could be~, don't be secretive. you are selling a product. you have to fucking act like it. you are an adult selling pornography to other adults. i am GRIPPING your HEAD you NEED to understand this.

and to be clear when i say 'cute' i mean coy. i don't mean cutesy, as in the aesthetic. you can be as hello kitty pastel ten emojis a post uwu as you like when you're building your audience and generating hype. but when you start trying to sell, don't be vague, don't be sarcastic, don't mislabel your work as a joke and assume everyone is on it. because they're not.

you must always assume 75% of the people seeing the thing you are advertising have no fucking idea who you are. and that includes a huge chunk of the people who already follow you. they do not know who you are or what you've been working on for two months or why they should care about it. they just got here. somebody just reposted it. they are seeing it for the first time. most people are only looking at social media for a tiny chunk of their day. they are not keeping up with you. you cannot get cute about what you are trying to sell because nobody knows what it is until you tell them.

okay are you still with me. we are going to talk about clarity now.

YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT IT IS

good lord the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's comic or book and had no idea what's actually in it or what it's about. who are the characters? why should i care about them? what do they do in it? what is the premise of this thing you want me to spend $5 on? why would you not tell me? i'm shaking you again. please i have to know what i'm buying i only have so much money to spend on porn.

porn, arguably more than any other genre, relies on knowing exactly what is in it. you do not want to surprise your readers with a kink they were unaware of! and on the flip side, you do not want to miss out on your target audience! if your book contains a hot spider babe laying eggs in an elf, you have to say so. not just so people who don't want to read about eggs know it isn't for them, but so the people who are egg crazy can see that and go "oh fuck YES i love EGGS here is my $5 and an extra $2 tip for catering to me specifically". a contents/features list is as much an advertisement as it is a warning!

as for re: who the characters are and why should i care, i'm sorry but you need to learn how to write sales copy. you have to write blurbs. you have to get good at the shit that goes on the back of a book. we all hate it but we have to do it. i want to know who the characters are and what the context is. i, personally, am not interested in contemporary stories as much as fantasy and historical. please tell me what genre this porn exists in so i know if it aesthetically appeals to me. pull some books off your shelves and see how they do it. hell man go look at mine.

while you're there, note that every single book of mine has a sample of what's in it. this feels like such a no-brainer to me but again! the amount of times i have gone to buy somebody's work and they don't show me what their work looks like! you gotta give me the first page or two! just enough that i know if i like the way your writing sounds, or the way you draw your comics! i don't know you! i am not going to trust that you're good at what you do just based on a cover. the cover is to get me to this step, it is not the only step. you have to show me that you're worth spending my money on!

to put it less cynically, you want to catch my interest. you want me to go 'oh i want to see more of this', you want me to go 'ahh i want to know where this goes!' you need to get me invested and craving more. earn my $5!!!

YOU HAVE TO MAKE IT EASY TO GIVE YOU MONEY

hey go look at your bio right now. go look at your pinned post. do you have a link to your patreon there? do you have a link to your itchio/gumroad/whatever? do i have to click more than once to get to the places you want me to go to give you money? why? why are you making me click twice? have we learned nothing from every website making you click an extra time when they make some stupid UI update and how much it pisses us off? i have already given up, i have forgotten you, i am not giving you my $5 today. put your links in the easiest places to get to them.

god literally as i was writing this post i went to go find somebody's itchio to see how they described their work and it was not anywhere on their profile. grabbing you and shaking you PUT THE LINK WHERE I CAN FIND IT. don't make it hard! make it easy! i am a dickhead sitting on the toilet scrolling, saw your post, and was interested enough to read further. but you made me go to your bio to find your linktree and oops i have already gone back to my timeline to look at the boobies in the next post. stop wasting precious bio space on DNIs and put your fuckin links there!!!

this is more for the twitter people, but: just put the link in the damn post. just say the word commission. just say it's for patreon. "wuh wuh the algorithm" it is not the damn algorithm it's that everybody hates advertising and nobody wants to retweet ads. putting slashes in the words doesn't do anything and you look like a fool. i have posted so much art that says it's 'a commission for ___" and it did exactly as good as any other art despite having the word commission in it. and by doing the slashes you just made it impossible for anybody to search your account for your commission information (which should be at the VERY LEAST in a post under your pinned tweet if you're not actively posting about them being open).

okay that went on a tangent i'm going to back to the point of putting the link in the tweet. put it in the first post. not in the first reply. don't tell them to go to your bio. put it in the post people are actually going to share. it's fine to put more information in the thread but people are only ever going to share the first post. so put the link there. you have to make it easy. putting links in tweets can hurt you algorithmically, even in the replies. so you're better off having it in the post that actually gets seen and shared. i don't want to open the tweet and scroll to get to your sales page where i ASSUME you will have put all the information anyway. put it in the tweet that just got retweeted by itself onto my dash!

also you have to share it a ton of times. i repost my shit every few hours when i'm trying to push a new product. as i said before people are not 24/7 looking at their timelines. they missed it the first time. they missed it the second time. they didn't get paid yet that week but they were after the eighth time and you reminded them again so they finally bought it. that i will still get sales every time i repost a book ad weeks after release says there are always people who missed it, or who only just showed up.

abandon your pride and shill. shills pay their bills. anyone who gets annoyed about it isn't giving you money in the first place. don't worry about looking like a sell out. don't apologize for plugging your own work. post about it often, post about it in different ways. post about it. post about it. you are not going to make money if people don't know you have something to sell them. if you want to make a career out of it, you need to act like it.

I DON'T HAVE A FOURTH POINT

kisses your forehead. i'm sorry for yelling at you. i've been making and publishing and selling adult art for the past two-three years and have got myself to the point where it pays my rent, and i got there by paying attention to what does and does not work.

please do your best to make money. i want you to make money.

as i said above i plan to write more posts on this subject, such as cover design, how to actually write sales copy, and best practices with running a patreon, but if there's things you would want to hear more about leave a comment or send an ask! i will probably be less aggressive on future topics. these are just things that have grinded my gears for a grip.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Invasion

Cat Man Alien Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Painful noncon, reader gets smacked, biting, collaring, owner/pet, pet reader, reader tied up, reader is an idiot, alien invasion, shapeshifting, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.2k

(Popped into my head, finished at 2-3am this morning, hope you all like it. Please leave comments and consider tipping to support the senior's bake sale, I love you all <3)

Twiggy was a rescue. He had been brought into the animal shelter you worked at and was pretty injured. Once he was nursed back to health, you immediately adopted him.

He was a bit standoffish, even by cat standards, but he slowly seemed to tolerate you. Then, almost actually like you. It's like he would enjoy affection and then catch himself and hiss before running off.

Even though you made sure never to let him outside, he always seemed to get out anyway, mostly in the dead of night. 

In an effort to discover just how he was escaping, you set up cameras. But they always ended up knocked down or broken before catching anything. Then you put a cat cam on him, but every night, he would fling it off after you went to sleep.

You had enough. It was getting creepy. You decided you would follow him. He never tried to leave while you were awake, though, so you had to pretend to sleep. 

The sound of the door could very faintly be heard closing, so you got up silently and slunk into the living room.

Astonished, you looked at the door. It had been unlocked, and Twiggy was missing. He had somehow figured out how to open doors. It wasn't entirely unheard of for a cat to manage a door handle, but the lock?

You quietly left the building and saw Twiggy moving with purpose down the road.

After a while, you thought yourself stupid. He was just going to do random cat stuff. Why were you following him? He probably just smelled something that gripped his attention.

But as he kept going through various alleys and back roads, a few other cats joined him without any reaction from him. They proceeded in orderly and determined fashion right into the old abandoned factory. 

You followed and had to hold back a gasp at what you saw. Down in the basement level was Twiggy standing on a pile of scrap with dozens of other cats gathering below him.

It was some sort of cat cult. 

But if you thought that was shocking, you hadn't seen anything yet. Suddenly, Twiggy effortlessly shifted into a nude man with curly brown hair, a tail, and cat ears on his head.

After he transformed, all the others did the same. The room was filled with naked men and women with tails and cat ears. This was getting too weird. The best course of action now was to make a silent retreat.

As you began to back away, Twiggy pointed in your direction and stated something you were too far to really hear.

In a flash, the cat people were upon you, dragging you over to Twiggy and forcing you to kneel before him before they tied you up and gagged you so you couldn't speak. 

He addressed the others without sparing a glance at you. 

"I infiltrated this human's place of employment and then their home." 

He stroked your hair in a manner similar to the way you would pet him in his cat form. 

"I have learned that we can use their workplace as a front and get adopted as their pets. We will use this method to infiltrate every home before taking over and turning humans into OUR pets!"

Twiggy turned to an androgynous looking cat person.

"River, I need you to take the form of this human and work at the shelter as we discussed at the last meeting. Come over tomorrow to my human's house, and I'll give you the schedule."

River nodded in affirmation.

After that, the meeting came to an end, and Twiggy dismissed the others. He pulled the gag off of you and allowed you to speak.

"Twiggy, w-what's go-"

The cat man smacked you harshly. It left an echo resounding through the large empty room. 

"That's a gross pet name. My real name is Declan."

You whimpered and then flinched when he pet the spot he had smacked gingerly. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have hurt you, you didn't know… You probably have lots of questions."

Of course, you had questions. And Twig- Declan… answered every one of them patiently. 

He explained that the cat people were aliens who just happened to have a form that looked like a common earth house pet. They could also look like any human they wanted, though they had to hide their feline features. He was the leader. And now that you were aware of everything, you got to be the first pet. His personal one. He promised to treat you well.

After the Q&A, he put on some clothes he had and took you back to what was no longer your house. He put your gag back in so you couldn't scream on the way.

True to his word, he treated you like a precious pampered pet, since you had helped heal him and took such good care of him. He even gave you a jeweled collar for you to wear as proof he owned and cared for you.

Though he had started to care about you in ways that he probably shouldn't have.

But after a while, he couldn't help it anymore. One night when your head was laying on his lap while the two of you watched a show he liked, something he forced you to do as he stroked your arm and side, his cock stirred under your head, and he had to give in.

He stripped you of all your clothes; you struggled and protested, but his strong, lean body easily overpowered your own.

He pulled off your collar and bit your neck hard to get you to submit as he mounted you, before shoving his cock in you deeply all at once with no preparation. 

The cat man fucked into you ferally, going off pure instinct, pushing your head into the couch cushion so no one could hear your screams.

You were sure you were going to die, that you were going to be split apart by his girthy cock, that the last things you would hear were your muffled screams, the sound of his nuts slamming into you, and his animalistic growls.

Declan's cock pistoned in and out roughly as tears streamed down your face. You felt a sense of shame as he forced you to orgasm despite the cruelty of the way he was violating you.

It wasn't enough that he took your house, job, and way of life and eventually would take your planet, but now he was claiming your insides with his throbbing cock as well.

He came in you roughly and finally seemed to gradually come back to his senses. He licked away your tears and the blood and cum that were mingled and leaking from your hole.

"I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself! I'll be more gentle and use lube next time, okay?"

The cat man comforted you as best he could, bathing you as you sobbed. He sincerely regretted hurting you, but he couldn't deny his instincts and really needed some release. Going forward, he decided you would be his mate as well as his pet, so he didn't go wild with pent-up emotions again. 

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Eleven} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request { @xtwistedchaosx }: "Where are my Klaus lovers for my Kinktober asks?" I have been summoned! First, I want to say, I absolutely love your writing and your blog. It always makes me happy seeing you post not just your fics but the responses you have for your followers as well. You're so amazing! Ok! Enough with the sap and on to the debauchery! I have two fem-reader asks (I'm being greedy I know, totally happy if you only choose one) 1. Spanking/Impact Play and Bondage Reader has been acting like an absolute brat and Klaus just sets them right. 2. Breeding/size kink No real guideline on this one, you get it. I know you do. I would let this man do the nastiest things to me, my morals straight out the door. Anyways! Love ya and you're doing the horny gods work by feeding us the month of Kinktober 🥰

♡♡♡ Thank you!!! you are so sweet. & Girlllll, I see you... I understand you... I went with #1 because that man lovess to put people in their place ~ XOXO ♡♡♡

2.1k words {remember how I said these requests were only going to be 500 to 1k???? lol I LIED} - Kinks: Klaus being Klaus, dom / sub, spanking, bondage & an awkward dinner party...

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that, darling?" Klaus looked across the table at you, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a slight smile as he waited for you to answer. You knew you were in trouble, that his eyes were boring into you, daring you to try him. You could feel his stare burning a hole into you. It took everything in you to finally look up at him, only to see the amusement on his face, knowing that you had to repeat yourself and there was nothing you could do to get out of it.

"I said," you started, keeping your tone level and trying to make it seem like you weren't bothered by having to repeat yourself, "that you could be nicer to your family." Your voice came out much smaller than you would have liked, your confidence quickly dissipating under his intense gaze.

Rebekah's soft chuckled broke the tense silence that had formed after your comment. Elijah looked like he wanted to laugh but was holding back and Kol had a full-on grin on his face, looking like a child on Christmas morning.

"She's right, Nik," Kol chimed in, "You really could be nicer."

The fact that Kol was defending you wasn't helping your current situation, only making you more nervous, knowing that his agreement was going to piss off Klaus further.

"I have my reasons," Klaus said, his voice eerily calm. He had moved his gaze from you, staring at Kol instead.

"Oh, come on," Rebekah added, "Can't we have a normal family dinner?"

"No," Klaus snapped, "I won't be lectured on how to treat my own family."

"Niklaus," Elijah cut in, trying to stop the fight that was brewing, "That's not what anyone meant."

You had remained quiet, letting everyone speak and not wanting to add to the conversation. The siblings were prone to dissolving into bickering at the smallest thing. You were used to it, but tonight was worse than usual, and you had started it.

"Maybe," Kol said, "You should listen to your girlfriend."

You tried to hold back a smile at Kol's comment, not wanting to draw attention back to yourself, but you couldn't help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

"That's enough," Elijah said firmly, interrupting Klaus from answering.

"It is," Klaus agreed, "In fact, it's time for everyone to leave."

"What? Why?" Rebekah protested, "You always have to ruin everything."

Kol scoffed and stood, "Fine, I have better things to do."

Rebekah and Kol both left, slamming the door behind them, leaving you and Elijah alone with Klaus. Elijah gave you an apologetic smile, before standing up, "I'll let you two talk."

You watched the one person who could talk your boyfriend down from any situation walk away. Your gaze shifted back to Klaus and he was glaring at you.

"What?" you snapped, trying to play innocent, even though you knew exactly what you had done. "Why did you kick them all out?"

"You know why," Klaus growled, his voice low, a clear warning. You didn't say anything, just shrugged, knowing it would rile him up. "They weren't going to stop and you kept pushing."

"Well... They had some valid points..." You muttered, shifting in your seat as you fidgeted with the hem of your dress and tried to avoid Klaus' gaze.

Klaus stood and walked over to you, grabbing the chair and pulling it back from the table. You looked up at him and his eyes were darker, a look that meant you were definitely in trouble.

"Have you forgotten your place?" he asked, tilting his head and smirking, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You bit your lip and shook your head, trying not to give him a smart remark. He leaned down and pulled you up from the chair, kissing you deeply. You melted into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

Klaus pulled away, "Upstairs. Now."

You turned and rushed upstairs, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. You could hear Klaus following behind you, and once you reached the bedroom, he grabbed you, spinning you around and pressing you against the wall.

"Are you going to behave?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

"No," you teased, sticking your tongue out.

Klaus smirked and crashed his lips against yours, his hands roaming over your body. He kissed his way down to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, causing you to whimper and moan.

"On the bed, now," Klaus ordered.

You did as he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He walked over to the closet, taking his sweet time, enjoying watching you squirm and become impatient.

"Take off your clothes."

"Make me," you challenged, not caring how much you were pushing him.

Klaus flashed over to you, his eyes glowing and a wicked smirk on his face, "Is that how we're playing tonight?"

You nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. Klaus let out a low chuckle, leaning over and kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth and dominating the kiss. You moaned against his lips and he pulled away, flashing to the closet again.

"I think you need a reminder," he called from inside, "Of who is in charge."

He emerged with a box and placed it on the bed, opening it and pulling out a few items. Your heart began to race, knowing exactly what was in the box, and not wanting to show how excited you were.

"Hands," he ordered, and you held them out. He wrapped the soft rope around your wrists, securing it tightly.

"Lay back," Klaus said, pushing you down on the bed.

You giggled and bit your lip, feeling his strong hands grip your ankles and pull you down to the end of the bed. He knelt on the floor and pushed your legs apart, his fingers brushing over your clothed pussy, making you gasp.

"Already so wet," Klaus chuckled. He moved your panties to the side and began rubbing your clit, making you moan. "Do you get off on making me upset?"

"Y-yes," you stuttered, bucking your hips.

Klaus laughed, moving his hand away from your clit, instead sliding his fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out. He leaned in and kissed your thigh, sucking and biting the soft skin, leaving marks.

"Klaus, please," you begged, wanting him to touch your clit again.

"Oh no, you don't get to boss me around tonight," Klaus said, curling his fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot, making you moan and arch your back. "I'm the one in charge, remember?"

You nodded, trying to catch your breath, the pleasure overwhelming. Klaus pulled his fingers out of your pussy, replacing them with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit. Your hands balled into fists, wanting so badly to grip his hair and push him further, but unable to do so.

Klaus pushed your legs up, resting them on his shoulders and burying his face between your thighs. He groaned at the taste of you, the way your thighs shook as he worked you up. He continued to lick and suck at your clit, his hands gripping your hips and holding you down as you bucked and squirmed.

"Fuck, Nik, please," you cried, the pleasure building inside you, your pussy clenching around nothing.

Just when you were about to reach your peak, Klaus pulled away, standing and leaving you a panting, quivering mess. He wiped his mouth, licking his lips, his gaze hungry and lustful.

"I didn't tell you that you could cum, did I?" he teased.

"No," you whimpered, desperate for release.

"Well, then," he said, his eyes sparkling, "You'll have to wait."

You watched him slowly get undressed, taking his time and enjoying your frustration. You bit your lip, admiring his muscular body, your eyes traveling down his chest, over his abs, and landing on his rock-hard cock, making your mouth water.

He saw where your gaze lingered, a smug smirk on his face. He reached down, stroking himself, letting out a soft moan. "You want this, don't you?"

"Yes," you whined, squirming.

"Then beg for it."

"Please, Nik," you whimpered, "Please, fuck me."

Klaus walked over, standing between your legs and leaning down, pressing his body against yours. You could feel his hard cock against your thigh, making you even more desperate.

"Please, Klaus," you begged, "I'll be a good girl."

"Promise?" he whispered, kissing along your neck.

You nodded, unable to form words.

Klaus grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling you up onto your knees. You felt his hands on your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh. He pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest and face into the mattress, while his other hand moved to your ass, squeezing and slapping the soft skin.

You let out a small whimper, feeling his cock press against your entrance, the anticipation killing you. He let out a low hum, sliding his cock inside your pussy, stretching you and making you gasp. He started with a slow, steady pace, teasing you. You pushed back against him, trying to get him to go faster, but he smacked your ass, hard, and you whimpered.

"Patience, love," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

He began to thrust harder, his cock slamming into you, hitting just the right spot and making you moan. But every time you got close to the edge, he'd slow down and strike your ass, reminding you that he was in control.

Your skin was hot and flushed, sweat beading on your forehead. Klaus leaned down, his chest pressing against your back and his lips against your ear.

"You're mine, do you understand?" he growled, his voice rough and possessive. "You don't get to act like a brat anymore."

"Yes," you moaned, "I'm sorry."

Klaus chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back. He kissed and sucked at the exposed skin of your neck, making you gasp and moan. Then his hand came down on your ass, making you yelp. He continued to spank you, alternating between hard and soft, sending waves of pleasure and pain through your body.

You were a trembling, whimpering mess, unable to focus on anything other than the sensation of Klaus fucking you. He had pushed your face into the mattress, his body pinning you down, and his cock buried deep inside you. The heat and friction were too much, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

He let out a soft laugh at your desperation, pulling away from you, leaving you face down on the bed. His hands slid under your body, lifting you up and placing you in his lap. Your wrists were still bound, but Klaus made quick work of untying them, massaging the tender flesh.

"You alright, love?" he whispered, kissing and sucking at your neck.

"Yes," you breathed, looking up at him through your lashes.

He grinned and smacked your ass, making you yelp. "Good," he growled, "Now ride my cock."

You did as he commanded, straddling his hips and sinking down onto his thick shaft. His hands rested on your hips, guiding you, and his mouth was all over you, kissing, biting, and sucking little marks into your skin.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails raking across his back, as you bounced up and down on his cock. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and whimpers, Klaus' groans, and the slapping of skin. His hand kept slipping down to your ass, squeezing and smacking it, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sending you into a frenzy.

You could feel the tension building, your body aching for release, and you knew Klaus was close too, his cock throbbing inside you. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive bud, and you couldn't hold back any longer. Your body tensed, and you let out a cry, the orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Klaus followed soon after, groaning and burying his face in your neck.

"Fuck, love," he panted, his breath hot against your skin.

You collapsed against him, exhaustion washing over you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he asked, a slight tease in his voice.

"Maybe...," you mumbled, "I'm always going to speak my mind, though."

"Oh, I know," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "That's what I love about you."

"Mmm," you hummed, nuzzling against him. "I love you too, Nik."

You closed your eyes, basking in the afterglow, knowing that no matter how many times you misbehaved, Klaus would always put you back in your place.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[disneyprincemuke]

for the girls * fem!driver

she isn't worrying about being on track for the first time - she worries about the media.

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, f1 grid x reader

warnings: literally a piece of garbage, SO inaccurate, no idea what i’m doing…

notes: this is sOOO BAD PLS I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE THIs man

also, please feel free to send it some scenarios for this series! you can send them in here freeflow~ none of these will be posted in chronological order so don’t worry about it

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"here is sebastian vettel's personal addition to the grid, (y/n)," the interviewer grins, turning to face the girl. "welcome to the 2023 formula 1 season. thank you for coming in."

"thank you for having me," she smiles, hands clasped together in front of her. she's been following sebastian around all day - she doesn't want to be left alone in such a tough crowd.

"how does it feel to be the first woman in formula 1 in almost 2 decades?"

"i'm very thankful for the opportunity given to me to achieve this spot on the grid. i hope i'll be good enough to create a difference and be the stepping stone towards more women in the sport," she answers cordially, moving her arms slightly.

interviews, unfortunately, were also a very big part of the job. she didn't really mind it, but she knew the controversy of her being in the sport, and it's been driving her insane since the pre-season testing.

"and of course congratulations on your move from formula 2 to the main league. how do you feel about the doubters or naysayers who are saying you don't belong here?"

"i think it's unfair to assume my placement in the season before it has even started. i have worked as hard as everybody else to get where i am today, so i'm just really hoping that the fact that i am a woman does not overshadow all my achievements."

she's seen all that's said about her. the news articles, the videos criticising sebastian's choice to vouch for her, and the comments under her posts and announcements - it's very disheartening.

sebastian has tried his best to tell her otherwise, telling her time and time again that he wouldn't have vouched for her if he didn't think she had the potential to be here.

"and how are you getting along with everybody else on the grid?"

"very good. i mean, we've already been acquainted for years and that really helped me out a lot," she laughs, locking eyes with sebastian doing an interview right next to her. "but it is still a competitive sport. it's going to be a climb out there from my starting position at 18th. hopefully it will be a good race."

"of course, good luck out there."

"thank you so much."

"just like we talked about. you'll be fine," sebastian folds his arms over his chest, leaning back into the wall.

she's pulling the sleeves of her race suit over her shoulders. "why don't i believe you," she mutters, looking down at her shoes to avoid his eyes. "think about what the media would say if i don't finish in the points today."

"who cares about what the media has to say? just do your best out there today," sebastian repeats, patting her shoulder lightly to get her attention.

he flashes her a grin when she looks up, only to have her roll her eyes as she zips up. "me. i have to face the interviewers later, remember? not you."

"just race like you always have. you're doing this for yourself. not the media, not the insecure guys hiding behind a screen, and definitely not the interviewers." he grabs her shoulders, shaking her just slightly to lighten up the mood. "i'll be in your ears to help you out, okay?"

she sighs, leaning slightly to the side to grab her balaclava off the table. "promise to tell me when i'm being reckless?"

"i'm your race engineer. i've got you."

he turns her around, towards the track where the cars have lined up. "get out there and shut them all up. you're doing this for the girls, remember that."

"right. for the girls," she huffs, wiping her hands on her race suit. she takes the helmet that sebastian is holding out to her and gives him a smile. "okay. i'll talk to you through the radio."

and she does everything she has to do. she’s in the race car, anticipating the formation lap that’s about to start.

days leading up to this moment, she didn’t think she would be so nervous to be behind a wheel. she doesn’t typically let the feeling get to her so much.

but it’s different now that it’s being broadcasted to the entire world. she’s now watched by ten times her normal viewership.

“radio check,” sebastian’s voice comes into her ears. his voice has become a significant point to calming her down behind the wheel. you would be surprised how well he can calm her down just by his voice.

“copy.” she breathes into the mic unknowingly as she exhales, looking up and taking in her view.

her car was surrounded by the engineers, making the final touches on the car and triple checking all the components.

within a few seconds, she can see the sky as they disperse — the sun is shining bright and there are barely any clouds. to her right is yuki, also looking around the grid and the grandstand.

she locks eyes with him as he looks around, her eyes crinkling at the corners to acknowledge him. he returns the gesture with a smile through his eyes then a thumbs up to wish her luck.

she lifts her hand above the halo and returns the thumbs up.

“okay, the first car has taken off for the lap. i’ll check in on you again in a while.”

her grip on the steering wheel is tight despite the engine being turned off. she’s proud of herself for making it through her first race in the league, even parking the car neatly in parc ferme.

“you did amazing.”

“you’re only saying that. i didn’t even finish in the points,” she answers dejectedly, rolling her eyes to herself.

sebastian tries to make light of every situation, even if the normal person would not be able to find that in a frustrating position. but he was also a rookie once. the least he could do is empathise and try to make this experience less daunting for her.

he’s investing in her — her talent is impeccable, but he has to make sure that he fosters and encourages her into the best version of herself. the racer that he knows she is, she just needed someone to actively believe in her.

“the climb from p18 to p11 is good progress. the season just started, kid. the only way is up.”

“sure,” she chuckles. “i’m getting out of the car. see you in a bit, seb.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse (comment to be added)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Hi Skyen, hope you're well! I'm seeking some advice and since you used to work doing mainly art commissions I figured asking you was worth a shot.

I'm a furry artist and I'm looking into doing commission work as a side gig while I finish animation college, and hopefully acquire enough experience/clients/notoriety to turn it into a full time job once I graduate.

Do you have any advice for someone literally just starting out with fresh accounts and zero following? Especially when it comes to reaching people and getting your first clients, and anything that one should take into account when working with NSFW specifically. Also advice for pricing your work is always useful 😅

No need to answer obvs but I'd appreciate your viewpoint if you want to share!

Got 2 asks on this exact subject so I'll write up what advice I can. One big caveat: I haven't worked as a commission artist for like half a decade at this point, and this job has a tendency to change fast, do not take anything I say as gospel. This is advice from a limited perspective, be critical of what I say and trust your peers and the people you are in community with before you trust me.

building audience

Step one is getting people to notice the artwork you create. Literally nothing else can happen until you have eyeballs on your work, and the most consistent and reliable way to make that happen is fanart. Ideally you'd want to produce fanart in a fandom you are personally engaged with and passionate about and familiar with, and which also has a sizeable community whose attention can help you build recognition and a base of followers.

This isn't always possible, and there's many a working artist who creates work for fandoms not out of deep personal connection, but because the fandom is large and relevant and a good way to capture the goodwill of algorithms and content feeds.

This approach has some downsides. For one, genuine fans can usually tell when someone's engagement with Their Thing is shallow, and for another it can be deeply creatively exhausting to chase the algorithm. I don't recommend this approach, but it is a valid means of building a business.

Another important consideration, especially when you are early in your career, is that volume tends to trump quality. Every artist will eventually learn that their shitty joke-doodle they sh*t out in ten minutes on a whim will get a billion reposts, and their complex personal work that took eight weeks to finish gets 2 likes from their closest mutuals and a comment from a bot saying "wow!"

In the age of the algorithm, what machines and for you pages value is a consistent, high-volume of output that generates user engagement. You will generally get further, faster, by producing a lot of work than you will producing great work. Again, this can be rough on your mental state, and a fast way to burn the fuck out, so please be careful and mind your health before all else.

The best way to build something that will last is to build your audience in communities and around fandoms and themes and ideas you genuinely care about and enjoy exploring and interacting with. Being your authentic self and creating work from your authentic interest is generally both healthier and long-term better for your career than trend-chasing. Treat trend-chasing and volume > quality output as tools in your toolbox, as creative and business decisions you can make to achieve a specific purpose, never ever EVER let them become the center of your praxis or your philosophy. Never ever EVER allow the Numbers™ to be your source of validation and accomplishment.

building business

Ok, so you've got eyes on your work. You've got some followers. How the hell do you get them to commission you?

Well, again, by demonstrating a capacity to create kinds of art for which there is demand. In the furry community, there's brisk trade in things like ref sheets and character design, for example. For most fandoms, ship art is a product which tends to be in demand. Being able to do really good expression sheets is a marketable skill. Being able to create compelling and clear emotes for streamers and creators is a marketable skill.

Showing the capacity to work in a wide range of styles is valuable. Showing the capacity to work in a wide range of genres is valuable. If you can do both comedy and romance your appeal expands. If you can do shonen-like action and angst as well, it expands again.

Equally, being incredibly good at a specific niche is valuable as well. Focusing hard on an under-served niche of work can give you a lot of opportunities to be the Go To person for that specific kind of thing.

Perhaps the hardest part of all of this is marketing yourself. Not only showing that you have the skills, but actively informing your audience that you are available, eager and willing to practise your skill for a fee. You have to sell yourself. It sucks, but you have to do it. You have to advertise what you can do, and you have to suffer the rejection and annoyance that comes along with doing that.

You have to ask people to commission you. You have to raise your hand and demand attention. It's not fun, but it's business.

Walking the line between self-promotion and being a person is hard. I can't help you that much with it, it's a very personal balance to find. Stay in touch with your soul, but kill the part that cringes at yourself.

Ultimately, you best marketing asset is your portfolio. Every time you do work, show it off. Repost it, retweet it, spread it around. If someone is happy with what you've made for them, do your best to make sure that other people see that happiness. Ask your clients (politely) to tag you when they share your work.

Oh, and for the love of god, sign everything you create, slap watermarks on anything that's likely to get reposted, and make it impossible for someone not to find your business email on your profile.

building network

If you're a commission artist, you are in community with other commission artists. You share interests, you share experiences, you share needs.

Practise solidarity. Absolutely seek out professional peers to help your business, but equally seek out opportunities to help them with theirs. If someone comes to you for art and you don't have commission slots open, point them at a colleague who you know can do the work too. Gas up your peers and spread their work.

Be a symbiote, not a parasite. Respect the craft of your peers, and don't chase celebrities and big names in the hope of coasting on their coattails. It will fail.

smut

If you're a working artist, at some point you have to reckon with smut and r34.

These genres are excellent sources of income, and fertile ground to build a business and network of customers. BUT. Do not ever make the mistake of thinking that they are "the easy way" or a shortcut. Do not ever make the mistake of thinking you can simply offer to draw tiddies and rake in the cash.

It's work and graft same as literally any other form of labor, it's challenging on both a technical and creative level, and the audience can sense if you're looking down on them. If you approach this from a position of shame, of "eugh, I'm debasing myself by doing this for rent money," it will not work, and you will lose standing and respect in the eyes of every peer whose support you need to succeed.

Just as in all other forms of creativity, if you treat the audience as morons who will slurp up whatever slop you serve them, then you will attract clientele that agrees with you, and you will deserve the misery they will inflict upon you.

If you are going to work in smut, establish your boundaries and enforce them. Know that good clients will feel safer and more comfortable with an artist who clearly states their red lines and earnest interests than they will with someone who tries to attract more clients by pretending to be open to work that they are actually uncomfortable with.

Never, ever, EVER let a client push you to create work you are not comfortable creating. It scars your soul in both the short and long term.

Also, when working with this kind of content, know the rules of payment processors and know how to hide the nature of your business from them. PayPal should never, EVER know the details of the content you sell with their service. Frankly, neither should your bank, most likely.

Look to your peers for advice and best practises about this. And be meticulous about your bookkeeping.

money

I want to tell you to charge at least minimum wage for your time. I want to tell you to charge substantially more than that, because your labor is specialized and highly skilled.

But the economic reality of commission work is that there is a crushing downwards pressure on the labor price of art, which has only been made more devastating by the rise of generative AI, and especially when you are a young artist just starting out, you're going to find yourself in a position where charging even minimum wage for your time will turn away a huge proportion of your potential customers.

Again, your portfolio will be the greatest argument for the value of your work, but you have to build that portfolio first, and very often that means doing a f*kton of work for not remotely enough pay until the pressure of demand finally works in your favor.

I don't condone or justify this state of affairs. It is horrid and I hate it, but I don't know how to fix it either.

Making a living from content creation of any kind requires you to get lucky, on top of working obscene hours and foregoing rest and vacations. It's not a safe or sensible plan for a career or paying your bills.

My sensible advice is to get a "normal" job you can survive doing, and do your creative work on the side, and resign yourself to the possibility that the creative work may never actually pay your bills.

And that is soul-crushing, but I cannot stomach pretending that hard work and gumption will guarantee anyone a decent living if they just try hard enough.

There are people who are better at every aspect of my work than I am, and they struggle harder and work for longer, and they will never see half the success I have, because I happened to get lucky, and they happened not to. It's wretched.

I'm not telling you not to chase your dreams. I'm telling you to do it with your eyes open, and with compassion for yourself first before all else.

All of this to say: I can't tell you what to charge for your work. It depends on everything from your competition to your niche to your genre to your community to your economic situation. You have to figure it out on your own.

All I can tell you is never forget that your work is worth more than the market will let you charge, and to raise your prices as soon and as much as you can. Try to reach at least minimum wage for your time as fast as possible.

in conclusion

Again, I haven't been a commission artist full time for a long time, please do not take any of this as gospel. Listen to your peers before you listen to me.

But trust me about the solidarity. It will save you when all else fails.

[lanadelnegan]

Crush - Part 2

Gym Teacher Negan x Female Reader

read part one here

Summary: Coach Negan finds you smoking and decides to punish you.

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, extreme sexual tension, smoking, choking, rough face-fucking, negan degrading you, praising you and calling you "good girl"

final part coming soon!

The majority of your final week of high school has been spent replaying the imagine of your teacher fisting his cock in his hand while moaning your name.

Your feelings are still slightly hurt from the comment he made before you hurried out of his office that day, but you've had a few days to recover from it. You've found that smoking cigarettes helps calm you down, so you find a way to sneak off a couple times during your school day to light one up.

You lean your head against the brick wall outside of the gym as you blow a trail of smoke from your mouth, daydreaming of your new favorite memory. You'll be late to P.E. again, but what's new.

You've dodged Negan as much as possible the last two days, avoiding any possibility of him bringing up the awkward moment of you walking in on him. As far as he knows, you've forgotten all about it. Although that couldn't be further from the truth.. it's all you think about actually. Especially at night in bed when you touch yourself.

You feel an ache between your legs as you stand with your back against the cold brick wall. You have to physically restrain from touching yourself right there until the sound of the gym doors swing open, grabbing your attention.

When you turn your head, Negan's eyes are on you as he saunters towards you. You secretively hold the cigarette down by your side, not wanting to draw his attention to it.

"Being late is one thing. But smoking on school property? Have you lost your damn mind?"

"You've done worse." You say, blowing the puff of smoke you were holding in your mouth directly on his face. He grins sarcastically, placing his right hand above your head on the wall.

"Such a smart ass little mouth."

Your gaze drops to his lips when he speaks, and the smell of his minty breath makes your knees weak. His grin widens knowingly at the sight of you staring at his mouth before he reaches for your cigarette, stealing it from your fingers and bringing it to his own lips. He draws in a breath, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out directly into your mouth. Your lips part slightly, accepting it without hesitation.

Somehow it feels even more intimate than kissing, as you breath in each other's air and gaze lustfully at one another. His hazel eyes drop to your mouth as his body leans closer, trapping you against the wall.

You can feel his hard bulge through his jeans and you cry on the inside, wanting to slap him for not choosing to wear basketball shorts today.

You slowly reach for the front of his pants, but he grabs your wrist gently, pushing it against the wall beside you. He brings his mouth close to your ear and the side of his neck is temptingly close to your lips. You imagine darting your tongue out and licking it, wondering what his skin tastes like.

His deep, raspy voice fills your ear, sending chills down your body to your toes. "If I catch one of these in your mouth again..." He drops the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. "I'll replace it with something much bigger. And as pleasing as that probably sounds to you, I will not make it enjoyable."

Your body visibly shutters at his words and he backs away, leaving you shaky and desperate.

"Get it together, y/l/n." He chuckles, suddenly back in character and putting on his best Coach Negan voice while entering the gym doors.

Fuck. You gather yourself enough to follow behind him a few minutes later. When you enter the gym, your peers are lined up on the court doing their stretches and you fall into place, finding a spot in the back. You sit down, stretching your legs apart and out in front of you while leaning forward and struggling to reach your toes with your fingertips.

Negan approaches you chuckling. "Oh, darlin'.. I know you can stretch further than that." He crouches down directly in front of you. "Need some motivation? I'm right here... Reach for me, doll." He taunts, whispering the last part for only the two of you to hear.

You lock eyes with him and reach forward, finally grabbing your toes as your face comes closer to his. "That's my good fuckin' girl." He smirks proudly before standing to his feet and cockily walking off.

Your face reddens as you feel more wetness pool in your panties. You've never been so horny and desperate for a man's cock in your life and it almost brings you to tears. Knowing how big and thick he is behind his jeans just makes you crave him more and you can't help but stare. He's bigger than any boy you've been with before and you know he would obliterate you.

"Something on your mind, y/n?" He calls out, making your classmates turn their heads to look at you. Your eyes widen and he winks at you, resting his hands on his hips.

"No sir." You say back, avoiding his gaze.

"Alright, we're gonna do something fun today since tomorrow is sadly our last day together." Negan announces, looking towards you at the end of his sentence. Your heart aches a little at this words.

Since tomorrow is sadly our last day together.

"Since only a handful of you showed up today, we're gonna do a scrimmage game." He bounces the basketball lazily while he goes over the rules, and your heart races with nervous excitement.

He chooses a team captain to play against him as they both take turns choosing their players. You wait patiently for Negan to say your name, but find yourself disappointed when moments pass and the others have been picked while you and the only other girl in class stand alone.

To even more surprise, Negan says the other girl's name while simultaneously grinning at you and you scrunch your brows at him angrily.

Okay. If that's how he wants to be.

"Man to man." Negan says, not taking his eyes off of you, claiming you as his.

Negan disappears into the locker room to change and you practically drool when he comes back out in basketball shorts and a white t-shirt.

Your team has the ball as you stand close by the goal next to Negan, who casually guards you. Neither one of you are that into the game, but more focused on teasing each other.

Negan stands directly behind you, pressing his body lightly against yours and you let yourself sink into him. His mouth leans next to your ear like before and all you want is to reach your hands behind you and feel him.

"Pay attention, doll. You seem distracted."

You don't have time to respond before your teammate passes you the ball and you turn, trying to shoot. Negan keeps his hands by his sides as he lets you attempt your shot.

Surprisingly you make it and you look to Negan, expecting him to talk trash, but instead he grins proudly.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

He says, running past you to the other side of the court. You follow him closely and his player passes him the ball quickly. Negan steps back, bouncing the ball and giving you the chance to get in front of him.

He bites his lip, loving your enthusiasm as you're determined not to let him score. When he attempts to go past you, you step in front of him and push your body into his roughly but it only causes you to lose your balance and stumble. You grab onto the front of his shirt, bringing him down with you as he falls on top of you, catching himself with his hand before crushing you.

His mouth is right above yours as he smirks. He goes to stand up, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, and subtly thrusts his hips into you before standing to his feet and lifting you up with him.

"Well obviously that's a foul, guess I get a free throw." He stands at the line to shoot, but misses the first shot, shocking all of you since he never misses unless it's on purpose.

"Something on your mind, coach? You seem distracted." You tease and he shoots you a warning glare.

He makes the next shot, looking to you. "Not at all. Takes a lot to get my attention." He smiles, running past you.

The game comes to an end when he makes the winning shot.

"And that? is how it's fucking done." He laughs, dismissing you all for the day.

Your classmates head to the lockers to collect their things and you follow behind them before Negan stops you, grabbing your wrist.

Your pulse races at the two of you being the only ones left standing in the gym.

"Don't be a sore fuckin' loser, baby." He teases, looking down at you.

"Maybe I let you win."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just fuckin' better than you." His head tilts as you look into his flirty eyes before pushing past him and joining the other girl in the locker room.

"He wants you bad." The girl says, changing into her clothes.

"What?" You ask, sitting on the bench next to her.

"Coach Negan.. It's so obvious, don't play dumb." She laughs annoyed before grabbing her bag and leaving.

You watch her leave, wondering if you two were really that obvious. Does everyone else see it too?

You decide to undress, turning on one of the showers and taking advantage of the empty locker room while you can. Most of your friends can't wait for school to be out, but the thought of never coming back here makes you depressed.

You light a cigarette to make yourself feel better, taking a few puffs while you lean against the side of the shower and wait for the water to heat up.

You press your cigarette into the counter, laying it there for later as you step into the hot shower. You lean against the wall, letting the water run over you as your favorite image floods your mind. Your hand drops to your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing slowly, imagining Negan between your legs.

"Negan.." You moan out, opening your eyes and quickly jerking your hand away when you lock eyes with Negan, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed disappointedly.

"Wanna explain?" He asks and you blush as you try to cover yourself unsuccessfully.

"I was - I just.." You stutter, looking down at yourself.

"Not that. Hell, I was even gonna let you finish." He explains before holding up your cigarette. "This.. remember what I said?"

You nod, gulping noticeably as your heart beats hard with anticipation of your punishment. He flicks the cigarette in the trash before stepping in the shower with you and you back away slightly, giving him room.

"What are you waiting for then? On your fuckin' knees."

You stare at him wide-eyed, watching the water soak through his white shirt as it clings to him, revealing his toned body and dark chest hair. You slowly drop to your knees, trying to get comfortable in the small shower as your ass rests against the back of your legs.

"Take it out, sweetheart." He says, staring down at you as you obey him and pull his pants down to his ankles and off his feet, not taking your eyes off his hard length in front of your face. You eagerly lean forward to take him in your mouth, but his hand grips the back of your hair, urging you to look up at him.

"Not so fast, remember this is a fuckin' punishment, doll." You try looking up at him but the water sprays against his stomach and onto your face.

He grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth and tapping the tip against your lips until you open for him. He pushes past your lips as your mouth stretches around him and you moan, closing your eyes as the water runs down your face.

His hands rest behind you on the shower wall as he leans over you, thrusting his hips and pushing himself deeper down your throat each time. You gag around him and try to pull your head back but his hand falls to your head, holding you in place.

"You're gonna take all of me, baby." He breathes out heavily, holding your head down until your nose is pressed into his soft dark curls. You struggle, unable to breathe as his length completely obstructs your airway.

You push on his thighs, panicking as your eyes water. He finally pulls back, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him as he bends down, hovering his face over yours.

You inhale a deep breath, taking in all the air you can get while you have the opportunity. Water drips off his wet hair, running down his face as he stares at you through dark, wet lashes.

He's so fucking pretty. You think to yourself as he grins, squeezing your face tighter.

"You are so fuckin' pretty like this." He says, echoing your own thoughts. "I am no where near down with that mouth, doll. I've waited so long so see you take my cock. Gonna fuck your face until I goddamn ruin you." He whispers aggressively before spitting directly into your mouth.

You swallow his saliva, secretly loving his roughness. He notices your slight grin and his face turns cold and serious.

"You enjoying this, sweetheart?"

You nod desperately, eager for him to use you.

"Can't have that, baby. Guess I'll have to try harder, huh?"

Fear washes over you, not knowing what's to come as he suddenly leans back up into his original position.

Without warning, he slams your head back against his cock completely, making you choke around him. His other hand is back against the wall behind you as guides you using your hair and roughly fucks your face. He angles your head back slightly, letting the shower waterboard you and you struggle.

He thrusts into your mouth relentlessly, until your jaw aches and you turn almost blue from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck” He grunts, pulling his dick out of your mouth quickly at the sight of you almost passing out, before squeezing his large hand around your throat and pulling you up off your knees.

You feel dizzy and disoriented, but he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall to hold you up. "Hey, breathe, baby. Breathe." He lightly slaps your face as you slowly regain consciousness.

Once he knows you're okay, he wipes the mascara running down your cheeks with his thumbs and grins proudly at you.

"You gonna touch another fuckin' cigarette?"

You shake your head no, trying to slow your breathing and calm down.

"Good girl." He praises you. "Finish up and get dressed, doll. Don't want your parents wonderin' where the hell you are."

You hear him chuckle as he exits the locker room with a towel wrapped around him, leaving you with panting and aching painfully between your legs.

And you realize.. that’s the real punishment.

Final part :)

[rootedinrevisions]

Attention (Kinktober 2024: Day 2)

SUMMARY: Amidst the chaos of storm fronts and unpredictable skies, your playful bratty antics spark a fiery dynamic between you and Tyler, who knows just how to tame your spirited nature. But as passion ignites and boundaries blur, a day of teasing leads to an unforgettable night at a hotel, where he reveals a different side of the southern gentleman you’ve come to adore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was meant to be a short drabble like yesterday's Kinktober Post (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at almost 6k words! There's also just something about Tyler and the way he would smirk whenever Kate gave him any kind of sass in the movie that screamed brat tamer to me. So I hope you all enjoy this!

PROMPT: "I'm really not in the mood for you to tease me today."

KINK: Brat / Brat Tamer

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (Spanking. Unprotected Sex. P in V Sex.) Aftercare (because we love a man who takes care of his partner after.)

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

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The day had been a whirlwind, literally and figuratively. Storm after storm popped up on the radar, each one stealing Tyler’s attention. Tyler sat behind the wheel of his truck, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying swirling wind patterns and the ominous hook echo of a forming tornado. His fingers tapped against the keyboard of his laptop, occasionally flicking to the handheld radio on the dash as he communicated with the rest of the team who were following behind.

You, on the other hand, were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, idly watching him as he clicked through the radar images.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get this absorbed in his work. In fact, it was one of the things you admired most about him—his drive, his passion for what he did. 

But today, you were feeling a little left out. Maybe it was that normally you had his attention while you were driving to a storm. Normally he’d hold your hand or have his hand on your thigh as he drove. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t looked at you in over an hour, but a small part of you craved his attention.

Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and let out a quiet huff, eyes narrowing as you stared at him.

Nothing. He didn’t even blink, fully engrossed in tracking the storm. You knew better than to expect him to drop everything just because you wanted some attention, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun.

“Think we’re almost done chasing storms for the day?” you asked, knowing full well what his answer would be but fishing for a little attention nonetheless.

Tyler barely looked up from the screen. “We’ve got three more cells popping up, so it’s looking like it’s gonna be a long night,” he said, his voice steady.

You frowned, crossing your arms and huffing just loud enough for him to hear. “Bet you’d marry the tornadoes if you could.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Bingo. A reaction, even if it was small.

You smirked and leaned in a bit closer, tapping your fingers against the console between you and him. “I can see why you like them. They’re unpredictable, dramatic, always showing off when they  don’t need to...”

He didn’t respond, just turned back to the radar, a smirk still playing on his lips. The lack of attention stung a little, but mostly, it ignited the brat in you. 

Ignoring you was one of his favorite tactics when you were leaning into your brat personality, but it was your least favorite. You could feel the frustration bubbling up inside you, but it only fueled your determination to push him a little further.

“They’ve got everything you love, don’t they?” You quirked a brow, turning in your seat to face him more fully. “Reckless, impossible to control, full of attitude, and always causing trouble…”

Tyler’s lips twitched as if he was fighting off a smile, but he remained focused on the road. "You describing the tornadoes or something else?" he muttered, his tone teasing.

You shift in your seat, uncrossing and recrossing your legs with a huff, making sure he heard you. You make sure as you do this that your tight denim shorts ride up just a little bit showing more of your thighs. You then reach up and adjust the white tank top you’re wearing, adjusting your bra ever slightly to push your boobs up ever so slightly.

Tyler finally shifted his gaze from the storm to you, his eyes narrowing in that way that let you know he knew exactly what you were doing.

His voice was low, almost daring you to push further as he said. "Tornadoes are unpredictable, sure. But if you know how to handle them, if you can figure out what makes them tick...”

He let the words trail off, and you felt the tension rise again, this time not because of the storm outside. You gave him a slow smile, but your pulse quickened.

“Do you know to handle them?” You teased, though your voice wavered just enough to betray the heat simmering between you.

Tyler’s gaze locked onto yours, and the air between you shifted, heavy with unspoken understanding. “Darlin', I’m really not in the mood for you to tease me today.”

The directness of his words caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a weight to it that told you he wasn’t messing around. He glanced back at the radar, clearly still tense from the day’s events, and you could see the stress etched in the lines of his face.

But instead of backing down, your frustration only deepened. You leaned forward in your seat, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Yeah? Well, I’m really not in the mood for being ignored,” you shot back, your voice laced with that bratty edge you knew would get a reaction.

Tyler let out a slow breath, his hands pausing over the keyboard for a moment before he turned his head to look at you fully. His eyes narrowed slightly, and that stern look—the one that sent a shiver of both excitement and challenge through you—was back. “There are a lot of storms happening right now. You really wanna compete with a tornado for my attention?”

You held his gaze, unyielding. “Maybe,” you said, shrugging with feigned indifference. “I think I could give them a run for their money.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension hung in the air, heavy and charged like the storm outside. Tyler leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours, but he didn’t rise to your bait just yet.

Instead, he shifted his focus back to the radar, the smirk on his face barely noticeable but definitely there. He was doing it again—ignoring you on purpose. And it was driving you mad.

You let out another exaggerated sigh, leaning closer to him, but he kept his eyes between the radar screens and the roads in front of him.

“Oh, come on,” you said, your voice playful but with a hint of challenge. “What’s more important? A tornado or me?”

Tyler didn’t even flinch. “Right now? The tornado.”

That was it. That smug, calm tone of his always got under your skin in the most thrilling way. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as you considered your next move. You could stop here, but where was the fun in that? No, you were going to push him just a little further.

You waited for your next move until the next stop where Tyler pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a small mom and pop type gas station. The rest of the team hurried inside to use the bathroom and grab some drinks and snacks. 

Meanwhile you and Tyler lingered in the truck for a few minutes. You leaned over the center console, your voice low and teasing as you whispered, “Maybe I should just find something else to entertain myself if you’re so busy.”

Finally, Tyler turned his head to look at you, his eyes darkening with a mixture of warning and amusement. He gave you a long, steady look, the kind that always made your pulse race, before speaking in that slow, Southern drawl of his. “I’d think real carefully about that, sweetheart.”

You smirked, unfazed by his warning. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but the sharpness in his gaze remained. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping so low that it sent a shiver down your spine. “Because if you keep pushing, you’re not gonna like what happens next.”

You could tell by the way his eyes lingered on you that he was reaching his breaking point, and it only made you want to push further.

You straightened up, flashing him a defiant grin. “What, you think you can handle me?” The challenge was unmistakable in your voice, and you watched his reaction closely, waiting to see if you’d finally get what you wanted.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he leaned in close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his body, the faint smell of his cologne mixing with the rain-soaked air. His lips barely brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Darlin’, I tame tornadoes. You don’t think I can tame you?”

The way his voice rumbled against your skin sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you swallowed down the reaction, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you tilted your chin up defiantly, pretending his words hadn’t rattled you, even though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Is that so?” you shot back, your voice breathy, daring him to make good on his promise.

Tyler pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with that same stern intensity. He didn’t speak for a moment, just let the weight of his gaze hang between you, thick with unspoken meaning. Then, in a voice that was all command, he said, “You better start acting like the good girl I know you are. Or you won’t be getting any of my attention for the rest of the night.”

His words hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat. You knew that look. He was serious now. The playful banter had shifted into something more intense, and you could feel the shift in the air between you. It was a warning—one you knew better than to ignore.

But still, the brat in you wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Guess we’ll see if you can keep that promise,” you quipped, your voice full of playful defiance as you met his gaze head-on.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, you’ll see, alright,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. He gave you one last lingering look before reaching for the door handle and exiting the truck

As you watched him make his way into the gas station, looking hotter than should be legal in just a backwards baseball cap, a button down shirt, some Wrangler jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots, you knew you had crossed a line. The line. He was in full brat tamer mode now, you had his full attention now, and that meant you were in trouble.

* * * * *

The storm had finally passed, leaving behind soaked streets and the distant rumble of thunder as Tyler pulled into the motel parking lot around nine o’clock later that night. The quiet hum of the engine faded, replaced by the sound of rainwater trickling off the roof.

You glanced over at Tyler, but his face was unreadable, all traces of the playful banter from earlier wiped clean. He parked the vehicle, his jaw clenched as he cut the engine.

You were still trying to gauge his mood when Tyler opened his door and stepped out into the cool night air, rain droplets catching the faint glow of the streetlights. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed the keys and walked around the front of the truck. 

He opened your door and waited for you to get out. He reached into the backseat and grabbed both of your bags, throwing them over his shoulder. Then without saying a word he motioned for you to follow. A thrill of anticipation coursed through you.

When you reached the room, Tyler unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for you to enter first. The door clicked shut behind you, and the sudden quiet of the room felt stifling. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your chest as you stood there, unsure of what was about to happen next.

Tyler took his time, tossing the keys onto the table by the door before slowly turning to face you. His expression was calm, but his eyes—those sharp, stormy eyes—told a different story. He was still every bit in control, but there was a spark of something dangerous beneath the surface. And you were the one who had lit the fuse.

“You’ve been testing me all day,” he said, his voice low, steady. He took a slow step toward you, closing the space between you in a way that made your breath catch. “And now, you’ve got all of my attention.”

You met his gaze, swallowing the nervous flutter in your stomach. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? His full, undivided attention. But standing here now, under the weight of his stare, you realized just how serious he was.

“I told you,” he continued, his voice dropping lower as he came even closer, “if you kept pushing, you weren’t gonna like the outcome.”

You smirked, still holding on to that last shred of defiance. “Maybe I’m still not convinced.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a knowing smile. He was right in front of you now, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of rain and earth still clinging to his clothes.

“Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, “you’re about to be.”

Before you could respond, Tyler closed the distance, his hand sliding around the back of your neck as he pulled you in. His hand then moved to your hair where he tightened his grip and pulled your head back slightly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was hard, commanding, and you could feel the pent-up frustration from earlier in the way his lips moved against yours. 

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, heart racing as his fingers lingered in your hair. His gaze locked onto yours, and there was no mistaking the seriousness in his voice when he spoke next.

“You’ve got two choices now, darlin’,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can behave and I’ll give you the attention you’ve been beggin’ for all day, or…” His thumb brushed along your jaw, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can keep being a brat, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

A thrill shot through you at his words, the heat between you palpable as you weighed your options. But the brat in you wasn’t ready to give in so easily. You bit your lip, eyes gleaming with challenge as you tilted your head slightly, daring him.

“What if I like regretting it?” you quipped, your voice laced with that same teasing defiance that had gotten you into this situation in the first place.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, you could see the flicker of amusement there, quickly replaced by something far more dangerous. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice thick with Southern charm, “you really don’t know what you’re askin’ for, do you?”

And with that, he took a step back, his hand dropping from your neck as he moved over to the bed, sitting down at the edge. He leaned back casually, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked at you with a calm, almost predatory gaze.

“Come here,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for a moment, that last flicker of defiance warring with the butterflies in your stomach. But you knew the game was over. Tyler had won, and now it was time to face the consequences.

Slowly, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him. When you reached the edge of the bed, Tyler reached out, grabbing your waist. His hands moved to the button of your jean shorts, popping it open before he hooked his fingers into the top of your shorts and pushed them down your legs.

He then reached for your wrist, pulling you down across his lap. His grip was firm, but there was no mistaking the tenderness beneath it.

“Now,” he murmured, “we’re gonna start with getting rid of that little attitude of yours.” His voice was low, filled with that unmistakable authority that always made your stomach flip. You felt one of his hands move to your back, holding you down against his thighs, and you knew exactly what was coming next.

"You’ve been a handful today, haven’t you?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

“I wouldn’t have to be a handful if you’d given me a little attention today,” you shot back, though your voice was quieter now, that bravado fading.

Tyler chuckled, low and deep, the sound vibrating through you as his hand moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you’ve got my attention now, darlin’,” he said softly. “So how many do you think you should get for running that pretty mouth of yours?”

“Two.”

He chuckled again. “Two? You really think two is enough for all the attitude you gave me today, baby?”

Suddenly, without warning, you feel the sharp, sudden sting of Tyler’s hand coming down on your ass. The impact sends a jolt through you, heat rushing to your skin, but before you can process the sensation, another smack follows on the other side.

After several smacks, you stopped keeping track after seven or eight, his hand lingers on your flushed skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the spots where his hand had made contact. The tenderness makes you shiver, and you let out a small whimper.

He hadn’t been rough—Tyler never was—but he made sure his point was clear. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his firm control slowly giving way to a softer touch as he released you from his lap.

Without saying a word, he gently pulled you to straddle him, his hands guiding you to settle on his thighs. The change in position felt intimate, almost grounding, as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath you, and the weight of the moment shifted from tension to something deeper, something more comforting.

Tyler’s hands moved in soothing patterns up and down your spine, his touch slow and deliberate. His fingers grazed the small of your back, the motion calming, as if he was silently asking you if you were okay. You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering trace of the storm outside.

“You alright, darlin’?” His voice was softer now, barely a whisper, laced with concern and affection.

You nodded, your breath still catching in your throat, but not from discomfort. It was the intensity of it all—the push and pull between you, the way he could shift from firm to gentle in an instant—that had you feeling unsteady, yet safe. Tyler had a way of doing that, of reminding you that even in your brattiest moments, you were always safe with him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with his fingers so your eyes met his. There was no trace of the stern look he'd given you earlier, no hint of the control he’d exerted when he made you bend to his will. Instead, his gaze was warm, full of care.

“You pushed me today,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jawline, “but I’m not going anywhere. I just need to make sure you’re good before we go any further.”

Your breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a question of your physical comfort—Tyler was checking in with your heart, your mind, making sure you were completely with him in this moment. It was one of the things you loved about him most, the way he balanced his strength with such tenderness.

You offered him a small smile, your hands sliding up his chest to rest against his shoulders. “I’m good,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady.

He nodded, satisfied, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled you closer once more, his lips brushing against the side of your neck in a kiss so gentle it made your skin tingle. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, the words a quiet reassurance. His hands continued their slow, calming path along your back, grounding you in the safety of his embrace. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, making you feel secure.

Tyler stayed like that for a long moment, just holding you, letting the tension melt away in the quiet. His thumb traced idle circles on your lower back, a quiet reminder that no matter how far you pushed, no matter how much fire you brought, he would always be there to catch you.

It was the kind of attention you had been craving all day. Sex with Tyler was great. You loved being with him in that way. He was by far the best partner you’d ever had. But it was this kind of affection, full of love and care, that you had missed while the storms had his attention.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was a soft rumble, still laced with that familiar, protective edge. “You ready for more?” His question was a gentle nudge, letting you know that he was still in control but giving you space to choose.

You nodded again, feeling the heat rising between you once more, but this time it came with the unspoken promise of safety and care in every touch.

Tyler’s hands guided you to the bed, his grip both firm and gentle as he positioned you exactly how he wanted. The air between you felt thick with tension, charged with the anticipation of what was coming next. You could hear your own pulse in your ears as you lay on your back, Tyler standing over you with that same intense gaze that sent shivers through you.

Your heart raced as he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you with one knee pressed into the mattress and the other still on the floor, effectively trapping you beneath him. Tyler’s fingers traced along the curve of your thigh, sending electricity through your skin as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

“You wanted my attention, darlin’. Now you’ve got it.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, sending a thrill down your spine as his hand slid higher, teasing the hem of your shirt.

You couldn’t resist. Despite the tension, despite the way he commanded every ounce of your focus, that last bit of brattiness bubbled up again.

“About time,” you muttered, eyes flicking up to meet his with just enough sass to provoke him further.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, his lips curling into a smirk as he pulled back, shaking his head slightly. “Still got that mouth on you, huh?”

Before you could respond, he leaned down again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside, the storms, the teasing—all of it faded as Tyler poured every bit of the attention you'd been begging for into that kiss.

When he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing was heavy, matching your own.

"You’ve been testing me all day," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Now, sweetheart, you're gonna learn that I don’t mind giving you what you ask for—but it comes with consequences."

With that, Tyler’s hands slid up your body, his touch sending waves of heat through you. His fingers paused at the bottom of your tank top, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for the confirmation he needed.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. You could feel the tension mounting, your body responding to the way his hands moved with both authority and tenderness. He was right—you’d pushed him, teased him, and now you were at the mercy of the man who was more than capable of taming the most dangerous storms. Taming you, however, was something entirely different.

Tyler took his time, every touch deliberate as he undressed you, leaving no inch of your skin untouched by his hands. The slow build of anticipation was almost unbearable, and by the time his lips found yours again, you were desperate for the contact.

“You’re gonna be good for me now, aren’t you?” Tyler murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “No more sass, no more pushing.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as you nodded again, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. “I’ll be good,” you whispered, breathless.

Tyler’s smirk softened into something more tender, though his grip on you remained just as firm, his touch as commanding as ever. "That’s what I like to hear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girls get rewarded."

Without saying a word, he stood up, his movements deliberate but unhurried, giving you time to take in the shift in the air. You followed him with your eyes, feeling your pulse quicken as he reached for the hem of his flannel shirt, fingers slipping under the fabric.

With one smooth motion, he pulled the flannel off over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair. The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he moved, and your gaze lingered on the defined lines of his chest, the way his skin gleamed in the soft light filtering through the hotel curtains. Every inch of him seemed to radiate confidence, strength—qualities you’d been drawn to from the moment you met him.

Your mouth went dry as his hands moved to his belt, unfastening the buckle with an almost lazy precision. The soft click of metal filled the room, each sound amplifying the rising anticipation in your chest. He tugged the belt free and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud, his gaze never leaving yours, as if he was fully aware of the effect his every movement had on you.

Then came his jeans—he unbuttoned them, the zipper coming down slowly, teasingly. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the slow reveal making your skin tingle with anticipation. Tyler’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans, and he slid them down his hips, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them.

Your heart was pounding now, each layer of clothing he removed making the room feel smaller, more charged. He stood before you in nothing but his boxer briefs, and even then, he didn’t rush. Tyler’s eyes were dark, locked on yours, and the energy between you both felt electric.

You swallowed hard as his thumbs slipped beneath the band of his underwear, slowly peeling them off. The fabric slipped down his legs, revealing the rest of him, his body sculpted and strong. Your gaze trailed over every inch of him, heat pooling low in your stomach, the tension between you like a wire pulled tight.

Tyler straightened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze settle over you like a weight. He was giving you a moment to drink him in, to take in every part of him, just as he’d done with you before. And the way he stood there—confident, steady—made your pulse race even faster.

He took a step toward you, the air between you thick with the anticipation of what was coming next, but he didn’t rush. Tyler was never in a hurry when it came to you.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing, as he made his way on to the bed again. One hand slid behind your back as he unclasped your bra. He slowly removed it from you before you felt his warm lips wrap around one of your nipples, while his calloused fingers pinched the other.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a soft moan leaving your lips. The hand that had been pinching your nipple then slid down your stomach to between your thighs. You felt him run his fingers along the lace covering your center.

You tried to roll your hips down against his fingers, desperate for more of his touch. Tyler’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled away from a kiss to look down at you.

“Need something, baby?”

You tried to grind down against his hand again, but this time he pulled away, leaving you with nothing but the musty air of the motel.

“Tyler!” You almost whined at the loss of his touch.

“What is it baby? What do you need?”

“You!”

Tyler chuckled and leaned down, his lips moving to your neck as he started gently biting at the spot below your left ear that he knew drove you insane.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Want you between my legs.”

Tyler’s lips curved into a grin as he moved his leg higher up on the bed, spreading your legs. He pressed one of his knees right up against your center, pressing the lace of your underwear that you still had on against your clit.

This wasn’t what you meant and he knew it. But you ground down against his leg a few times, trying to get some kind–any kind of friction that you could.

“Ty, please,” you breathed out when you realized it wasn’t helping. “Need you.”

“Was that so hard to say, baby?”

“Yes.”

Tyler chuckled again before he positioned himself between your thighs. He wrapped his hand around his dick pumping it a few times before he put the tip against your entrance. He slowly slid into you.

The feeling was overwhelming for a moment. This. This was what you had been waiting all day for. You lead out a loud moan as your eyes fluttered close as he slowly stretched your walls as he pushed further and further into you.

Once he was all the way in, he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to him. Then he started to move. His hips pulling out slightly before pushing back in. Your hands moved to his arms and then his back, your fingers digging into his skin.

Tyler began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, your hips started to move, meeting each of his thrusts. The musty motel room was filled with the sound of your soft moans and his deep grunts as both of you became lost in the moment. 

“Come on, baby. Let it go for me.” Tyler breathed out as he started thrusting faster and deeper into you.

You moaned his name as your back arched off of the sheets as your orgasm hit. Your walls clenched around him and you felt Tyler groan as something that sounded like a string of swear words left his mouth. He then stilled inside you a moment later as you felt him fill you with his release.

The room was enveloped in a warm silence, the air heavy with the aftermath of your passion. You lay side by side on the bed, hearts still racing as you both came down from the heights of your releases. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, intertwined and blissfully spent.

Tyler shifted slightly, a soft rustle of sheets breaking the quiet as he reached for a damp cloth. With careful, gentle hands, he began to clean you up, his touch tender and attentive. You could feel the warmth of his body beside you, a soothing presence that eased any remnants of tension. There was something profoundly intimate about the way he cared for you, each stroke of the cloth both practical and affectionate, reminding you of the connection you shared beyond just the physical.

Once satisfied, he set the cloth aside and padded quietly to the small fridge across the room, his movements fluid and relaxed. You watched him, a small smile tugging at your lips as he rummaged through its contents. He emerged moments later with a bottle of water, the coolness of it contrasting against the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and comforting as he handed you the bottle. “You should stay hydrated, especially after all that.” There was a playful glint in his eyes, a mixture of mischief and affection, as he leaned back against the headboard, propping himself up on one elbow.

You took a sip, the refreshing liquid quenching your thirst, and the sight of him—bare, relaxed, and utterly himself—made your heart swell. Once you set the bottle down, Tyler slid back down the bed, shifting closer to you.

“Come here,” he murmured, opening his arms invitingly. You didn’t hesitate, rolling into him and snuggling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, as if he never wanted to let go.

The warmth of his body enveloped you, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him—like fresh air and a hint of cologne, grounding and comforting all at once. Tyler’s fingers began to brush gently through your hair, the rhythm soothing as he held you close.

“Was that enough attention for you?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your forehead as he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. The teasing tone was laced with genuine affection, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, your heart fluttering at the sight of him—the way his eyes sparkled with a playful challenge, but also the warmth that radiated from him. “For now,” you replied playfully, smirking slightly. “But you know I could always use more.”

Tyler chuckled, the sound rich and deep, reverberating through your shared warmth. “Well, I’ll make a note of that,” he said, his voice playful yet serious. “I’m always ready to give you the attention you need, darlin’. Just promise me you won’t be too much of a brat next time.”

You grinned, feeling the warmth of his affection envelop you, grateful for this moment of intimacy. It was in these quiet seconds, nestled against him, that you felt the strongest bond between you both—the balance of playful teasing and heartfelt connection that defined your relationship.

As you lay there together, the world outside fading into nothingness, you knew you had found your home in his arms.

[catnipaddictt]

jailbreak

scott barringer x gn!reader

synopsis: You and Scott decide to escape New Horizons, a camp for at risk teens.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

comment: there is a lack of Scott content on tumblr so I decided I wanted to write something. Also I fell in love with higher ground, i didn't think it was going to be that good, but i binged it in under a week.

You kick at the ground with your beat-up old sneakers, watching as moisture falls from the blades of grass. Grumbling could be heard from in front of you as the ground of teens treked behind their leader. Ever since you had arrived at New Horizons, it was basically walk after walker. You swear once you are out of this place you would never hike again. But alas you had now been here for almost 2 months, and Peter sure wasn't letting you out anytime soon. 

Picking up your feet, you begin to follow your group as they walk uphill through the forest that surrounds the school. You make up the back of the pack, mostly just because you prefer to walk at a more leisurely pace. 

“Hey” you glance to your side to be met with blue eyes. Scott. He had been here for around the same time you had meaning that you were both ‘fresh meat’. If you could even call yourself that anymore. You reply back with a “hi” focusing on not tripping on any tree roots. Scott was at New Horizons for a drug related problem, something a lot of the students had issues with. He was normally standoffish and refused to participate but you two got along just fine. Which led to the little problem of your not so little crush on the tall boy.

“I hate walking” he states plainly and you agree, nodding your head. “I mean, how is this supposed to help, walking up hills isn't going to fix a bunch of messed up kids” Scott continues. “It sucks, I just want to get out of here” you reply. “Hey, what if we-” Scott seems to want to say something but changes his mind, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” You glance at him confused. “C'mon, you have got to say it now” you laugh. “It was stupid anyways” he grumbles at the ground. 

“Oh boo-hoo, just tell me” you practically beg. Scott sees this and ultimately starts to speak, “we could get out of here you know? It's only the forest holding us back I mean. And we have pretty much walked all of it twice over.” You turn your head to look at him, “you mean run away?” you ask. He has caught your full attention now. “See, told you it was dumb” Scott answers. 

“Let's do it.” 

“Sorry?” He states, “you can't be serious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh I'm serious. I have had enough of this place. Worst case scenario we get caught, that's like a few days of confinement to the cabins.” You reply smoothly. It was definitely a horrible idea but it's not like life was too exciting for you at the moment.”I mean, I'm down if you are” Scott shrugs. You think for a moment before replying. “Okay two days from now there is the school bonfire thing. We pack bags beforehand, I'll sneak into the kitchens and get us some food and stuff, and we can meet up by the docks. They won't notice we have gone for a few hours at least.” 

Scott looks at you “a few hours head start is probably as good as we are going to get.” He makes up his mind, “okay I'm in.” 

The next two days passed rather slowly, with not much really happening apart from lectures about personal wellness. What a waste of your time. You were counting down the minutes until your and Scott's escape out of here.

The final hours of your time at New Horizons were spent packing a bag, light enough to not slow you down, but enough to keep you going until you could get more supplies. Your next job was the kitchen.

The sun had almost disappeared by the time you reached the space, quietly opening and shutting the door behind you. You grabbed two large plastic bottles of water, placing them in your bag, as well as a few cans of food and lots of snacks. This was definitely enough to last you a few days. Getting through the forest should only take a few hours, the tricky part was not being seen around town.

Zipping up your bag you sneak out of the kitchen, making your way to the docks. You could see Scott's shadow cast on the wooden planks, giving his location away. You walk almost silently up to him and he jumps a little at you appearing. “Don't sneak up on me like that” he says playfully.

You nod your head in the direction of the path leading to the forest “time to go?” The light from the bonfire flickers over the landscape, making it feel like something out of a 80’s horror film. “Yeah, let's do it”

You both make your way out of the school and into the dense forest. There is nearly no light apart from the occasional bit of moon peeking through the canopy. Scott pulls two flashlights out of his bag, passing one to you “borrowed Auggie’s, hope he doesn't mind” he shrugs and you laugh. Poor Auggie had been robbed of his only torch. 

After about an hour of walking Scott starts telling you clearly made up stories about people getting lost in the woods never to be seen again. Typical teenager boy behavior. You roll your eyes in response - not that he could see. “That's so not real” you speak, only to be met with a yelp as he trips over a tree root. You cannot contain your laughter at the action. “Not funny” he grumbles. 

The next few hours pass in a blur. The clear night makes your walk nicer than you thought it was going to be. Scott being there helped a lot. You both exchange tales of your lives before New Horizons, Scott tells you about his football games and school. Up ahead of you, you can see where the ground drops about 6 feet or so, meaning you will have to climb down. Scott goes first, passing you his bag so you can throw it down to him once he is on solid ground. Once he reaches the earth again you throw down his bag followed by yours. He catches them and puts them down on the ground. Now it's your turn to make the descent. 

You make it most of the way down without fail, but the place where you put your left foot collapses and you are forced to jump back and onto the dirt covered ground. Luckily you don’t hurt yourself but in the process you manage to basically slam into your companion. He lets out a sound at the impact, “woah there.” “Sorry Scott.”

After another hour you finally reach the edge of civilization and you exchange grins with the blonde boy. You had made it with close to little hiccups. Making it onto town, you and Scott begin to brainstorm what to do now. “We need to get further away before first light, then people might see the two of us. And when Peter comes asking they will know we were here” You think out loud. “We could hitchhike?” Scott suggests “It's risky but if we walk further out of town we have a better chance of someone who is passing through and not a local?”

You agree to the plan and after a quick break from walking you both set out again. Now that you are out of the dense forest you can see the night sky. It's clear tonight and you can see all the stars, you will miss it in a way. But you made your decision. As you walk, your hand brushes against Scott’s prompting you to snap your arm close to your side, embarrassed. You can sense his head turning to look at you briefly before he looks straight ahead again. Then, if on second thought, he grabs your hand in his, interlocking your pinkies. You look down at your and Scott's hand and smile. Maybe, just maybe it would all work out fine.

I'm not sure about the ending of this one as I kinda didn't know how to finish it but oh well. Im also finishing writing a whole heap of requests, so expect those soon!

[furinana]

The undertones behind Walter and Jonathan's relationship that you might not know about

I'll be calling attention to traits present in their dynamic that are unknown to most players in the West due to incomplete localization.

Now... where do we begin? Oh, right. In the part after you're done with Naraku and get to spend the holiday with the other two.

This scene is presented in almost the same way in both languages but Jonathan's reaction seems emphasized on a specific word in the Japanese script.

"T...t-t... that's crude, Walter. I would never... such a thing like that to women..."

In either case, if this ended at Jonathan's response, it would be mostly nothing worth commenting on. Jonathan is the Law representative raised by a family that worked in the Monastery so naturally he's gonna behave in a more chaste way, correct?

But then you have Walter's posture becoming uncomfortable followed by immediately changing subjects as if he's already in the know of what Jonathan was anxious about compared to the player (thus Flynn) being rather out of loop about what was going on.

The thing is... the meaning was actually already available for the players, even prior to SMTIV's release! That is, if you accessed the official website and clicked on the interviews with the Japanese voice actors (which included in-character voice clips). All of the translations presented in this post were done by takujilvr

"I'll only tell you this because it's you, all right? Only because it's you! I'm afraid I can't bring myself to like women very much. Being raised in a household with two elder sisters and one younger made me lose any illusions about them I might've had. You're a man, so I feel much more at ease with you."

Certainly, he doesn't seem to specifically refer to anyone in this clip. It could be Flynn or probably anyone else as long as they're a male.

But there are other voice clips aside this one that point towards a more definitive interpretation.

"Enough of that "Ooh, you'll catch cold!" drivel, Jonathan, you sound like a naggy old wife. I can't abide being constricted, this chest must stay bared!"

"S-Stop pulling my hair, Walter! It won't straighten out, I got it from my mother!"

They don't have voice clips directly acknowledging anyone else, leading to the impression that Walter and Jonathan were being more marketed as a duo over their dynamic with the main character.

But the shocking reveal comes with this one:

"I'll only say this if you promise not to tell anyone! Cats, I just love 'em. When I see one outside, I can't help but crouch down and give it some pets! Wait, no. I mean, listen, I can't stand fish. And they can take it off my hands, can't they? That's why I love cats. Right."

A player that reached the part where the party gets hit by Yaso Magatsuhi's scent in Roppongi will thus connect the dots:

How one interprets the twist of this scene might change entirely with the voice clip in mind. It opens the possibility that, differently from many players' assumptions, Jonathan was acting like a feline not because he's secretly a cat lover. But, most likely, due to WALTER liking them. And he would have no way of knowing that unless Walter told him off-screen.

To summarize...

Jonathan is unable to feel attraction for girls and feels more comfortable with guys which would be inevitably an obstacle for his future considering his conservative background

Walter has phobia of fish despite what his family does for trade and has a soft spot for cats specifically because they eat them for him which would be defined as a 'weakness' to his self-reliant image

1 and 2 are each most's intimate secret and they revealed them for each other

"But how much does this add to the main plot?" Even when pushing aside subtleties from this extra material, attentive Megaten veterans would notice that the Law & Chaos representatives from SMTIV have an explicitly close bond compared to most characters of opposing sides in other titles of the mainline series.

[Jonathan was the most visibly affected by their breakup]

This extra material essentially adds more to the range of interpretation regarding their intimacy while also making them more relatable beyond their surface of Law & Chaos pieces.

On this note, moments where they "crack" their own alignments also happen briefly in-game.

They were two boys of the same age that became instant close friends however became unable to conciliate the differences emphasized by their caste system and reach the understanding of what would be the best for everyone.

All of this leads to the player's realization that Jonathan and Walter ultimately didn't perfectly antagonize each other as humans but were "pushed" towards their extreme roles by ulterior forces that would subsequently be further exposed in the sequel.

[jaylienpotter]

Part 2 of Let them be | 1k words

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Let boys wear skirts

James had started a protest against the school rules not allowing females to wear trousers. How? By breaking the dress code. Of course Sirius was going to follow up and also put on a skirt. His brother Reggie desperately needed to change uniforms.

What he wasn't expecting was how it felt. The fabric was nice and it was much more freeing, refreshing. But there was something else. He felt different. He felt pretty. I mean, he was always gorgeous. But not like this. He was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, turning to see the skirt from different angles. He put his long black strands behind his ears and smiled. Sirius didn't know what it meant. He wasn't like Regulus. He wasn't trans. He liked being a bloke. He never felt discomfort with his body. The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry I'm going!" Taking the towel and his pajamas, he opened the door to a Moony in a skirt. Obviously they had all agreed to it but he just looked so awkward and cute, with high socks to hide the scars. But Remus would look good in anything. At least in Padfoot's eyes.

Lupin didn't budge when the bathroom got free. He stared, looked his friend up and down.

"What?" Did he look bad? Did he wear the skirt upside down? Did he just look ridiculous with his hair like that, which made him look even more feminine?

"I- uh- nothing, I just… It suits you." Was Moony blushing? Did Sirius only have to wear a skirt to catch his crush's attention this whole time?

"You think?" Pads did a little twirl. The skirt was a little short but what did he care?

"Yeah. You look… Pretty."

"Thanks. I kind of like it, actually…"

"I see. Uh Pads, can I use the toilet?" Sirius stepped aside and ever so slightly glanced at the boy's arse. Lupin looked a lot more modest. It made sense with his 'problem', as well as anxiety and low self confidence in general. Black didn't expect him to follow the protest. The four of them were in, though. Even Wormtail. Lily's skirt was slightly tight but he said it was fine since it was for a good cause. He could use a spell to largen it but none of them had mastered those yet. They'd end up making a skirt big enough for the squid.

There were whistles from the Gryffindor table as soon as he walked in for breakfast. Mckinnon was hyping her friend as usual.

"Look at her!" She was joking, of course. But it hit Sirius. He felt a knot in his (her?) stomach. Why did he like that? He was fine with male pronouns, never had a problem. Still didn't. Shrugging it off, the drama queen paraded to the table, followed by an anxious werewolf.

"Don't worry Moons. If anyone looks I'll just be flagrant and get the attention off you."

"Thanks Pads." He smiled, his cheeks still slightly tainted. Perhaps he was too hot from the high socks and long sleeves in the hot weather?

"Good morning, lads! How are we feeling? I see Padfoot is confident, great. Wormy is getting used to it. Moony, you good, mate?" Potter was such a mum. People would think that Remus being the most sensible out of the four, he would have the responsible, more parent-like role. To be quite frank, he didn't give a shit. If his friends made a fool of themselves he'd laugh. Prick. Hot prick, though.

"Yeah." He looked to his left and back at Prongs. "I'm okay."

The day went as expected, they got detention quite soon, the first class was thankfully History of Magic and their ghost of a teacher didn't even know he was dead, let alone what his students were wearing. They received plenty of comments. Some cheering, mostly from girls, some were snarky, and some of the students called them girls, which Black didn't seem to mind at all. And of course, there were lots of stares.

The Marauders walked together everywhere, to be stronger and avoid being attacked. James was incredible, swagging around the castle with his head held high.

"Hey, Prongs? Can I ask you something?" It wasn't until they were in their pajamas that Sirius gained the courage to talk about it.

"Of course."

"How did you feel wearing a skirt? Were you uncomfortable? Did you like it?"

"Well…" Potter twisted his mouth to the side, as he always did when thinking. "It was fine, I suppose. I wouldn't say I liked it, I wouldn't choose to wear one. But for the cause it didn't bother me."

"Hm." Pads's gaze was distant. He had time to figure it out, they were going to keep wearing skirts until a teacher heard their complaints. At least Sirius and James were.

The next day, Marlene joined the protest, borrowing Sirius's trousers that were oversized for her. The lads had gone downstairs and she was in their dorm with Black, getting ready. They had no problem changing in front of each other since both were gay.

"You seem to be enjoying the skirt." That tone meant she was onto something. The fucker could always read Sirius. Even better than James, at times.

"Yeah… I suppose so. Makes me feel pretty."

"Just pretty or more like a girl?" Bloody hell, she had figured it out even before Sirius.

"I'm not sure…" Marlene put on her tie, done getting ready.

"Do you want to borrow my makeup? It might help." Pads turned around nervously yet excitedly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah mate. You also have to repaint your nails, they're all chipped. Wait here, I'll get my stuff."

"Thanks Marls…" She winked and left, coming back a few minutes later.

"I also brought a small mirror. Sit, we're having a beauty session." It was funny. Marlene wasn't that feminine. She didn't wear makeup all that often and when she did, it was more of a rock punk look with smudged black eyes. It wasn't anything like Evans or Mary, which were a lot more elegant and traditional.

"You don't want to eat first?"

"I'd rather get you all prepped up to see people's faces when you show up all girly."

And the faces did not disappoint. Black and Mckinnon walked into the Great Hall with wrapped arms. She had her hair in a messy bun, her shirt not fully buttoned up with her tie loose, the trousers covering her feet and a bit of a black smudged eyeshadow. Sirius, on the other hand, wore the skirt from the previous day, which was slightly short but still covered up everything, the shirt also not buttoned up all the way as per usual, and the red and gold tie undone, sitting on his shoulders. Some black nail polish and winged eyeliner, too. He couldn't deny it, it felt pretty good.

The best face was Remus's, who literally dropped his toast. The pink cheeks were definitely not from the weather. It sparked a little hope in Padfoot, that maybe his dreams of being with his best friend would come true. However, Moony would probably forget about it as soon as the protest ended.

It took a while until that happened. Pads and Prongs wore skirts for around two weeks (and some of the girls wore pants - Marlene, Lily, Mary, Dorcas, Pandora), eventually Reg felt comfortable enough to join, he had never felt so good at Hogwarts.

Mcgonagall was the one who spoke up about it, saying it was getting ridiculously out of hand and that she saw no problem with girls wearing trousers 'But for the love of Merlin, boys, put on some trousers'.

Dumbledore agreed to change the rules, as the protest was distracting the students' focus during classes. Fully aware the Gryffindors weren't going to back down.

Regulus was ecstatic and thanked all of them. Sirius was happy for his brother but he was going to miss the skirt. In this journey of self discovery, he had come to the conclusion that he felt both masculine and feminine, some days more than others. All the pronouns felt right, but he did prefer being called pretty over handsome. Maybe Sirius would be able to wear a skirt again someday. Until then, makeup was the only way of expression. He would also miss Moony's glances, he ought to come up with a new way to lure the Gryffindor boy.

[jinisnuggets]

Hello can I ask for a Doyoung smut, I haven't been seeing new fics of doyoung these days 🥹 tysm

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

ᴾᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᴵᵈᵒˡ! ˢᵘᵇ! ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ˣ ᴰᵒᵐ! ᶠᵉᵐ! ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵂᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: ².¹ᵏ

ᴳᵉⁿʳᵉ: ˢᵐᵘᵗ

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ᵀʰⁱᶜᵏ ᵈⁱᶜᵏ ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ, ᴴᵃʳᵈ ᵈᵒᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᶜᵒᶜᵏ ʷᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ, ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗⁱᵛᵉ, ˢʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ

ˢʸⁿᵒᵖˢⁱˢ: ᴺᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʰᵒʷ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᴰᵒʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ’ˢ ⁶ᵗʰ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ… ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉᵈⁱᶜᵗᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ.

ᴬ/ᴺ: ᴴⁱ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ! ᴬˢˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵐʸ ʳᵉqᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᴶᵉᵒⁿᵍʷᵒᵒ ᶠⁱᶜ, ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ... ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ, ⁱˡʸˢᵐ 😭🩷, ˢᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵛⁱʳᵗᵘᵃˡ ʰᵘᵍˢ 🫶

“Hey… it's late, is everything alright?” You called through the phone after not hearing a response for a concerning amount of time, he had called you so you didn't know if it was much of a real call or more of a prank call.

“Hey, the boys are gonna go eat somewhere but I honestly wanna just lay in bed and sleep. The company's too far and I know you live nearby- mind if I spend the night?” you could hear his croaky voice from the other side and you honestly couldn't help but feel pity for him, you didn't see the problem in letting your boyfriend come over in order for him to just immediately lay in bed and knock himself out, it was just one night and you didn't seem to find a problem with it.

“Doyoung - you don't need to ask, just call me and say you're coming over. My house is your house.” You calmly responded, “Ok, ok, my bad, I'll be there in 10” he responded, half chuckling while you heard the familiar beep and then the line went dead.

Part of you was nervous about him coming over to spend the night, but what was one singular night gonna do? Nothing could happen in the span of those 12 hours that he'd be coming and sleeping over. He had practice the next morning, which meant that by breakfast hours at the company, he should already be there and ready for practice.

So you waited until you heard a knock on the door, you slowly walked to the fronts of your apartment and looked outside the peephole. It was the habit you couldn't get rid of as well as the one people always found themselves questioning you for, to which you always responded with.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Once confirming that it was indeed Doyoung, you slipped open the door and allowed him to enter the cozy setting, you greeted him and escorted him to your room.

“Since I live in an apartment- I unfortunately don't have any guest bedrooms, but you can rest in here and I'll be on the couch.”

Doyoung took the little energy he had in order to glance at you and turn his full body to face you, he looked a bit disappointed and a little annoyed.

“Why don't we just sleep together?” He responded. Now you were sure that your cheeks were flushed red judging by the burning sensation you had in them, you cleared your throat and made eye contact with him which was quickly broken by whatever reason you may have made in your head.

“I don't know about that-”

“Why? We're dating and from the looks of it, your bed is big enough to fit 2 people. I don't see a problem with it.”

You turned your head and thought for a moment, although you also didn't really have a problem with sleeping together, your conscience wouldn't really leave you alone if you dared to lay in the same bed as him, especially since in the recent Treasure comebacks he was really putting it off with the visuals.

“I probably won't keep my hands still if we do-”

He completely disregarded your comment, probably because he didn’t hear you or he just didn't pay attention, nevertheless it was one of the two. “It's only one singular night, I think we should be fine-”

Hesitant, you nodded, having already brushed your teeth, you asked him if he had brushed his, to which he simply nodded and fell onto the bed… to which you followed right after.

It had surprisingly worked out at first… both of you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes, and to be honest, you slept like a baby for those couple of hours that your eyes were shut, which felt weird since you hadn't slept like that in ages… maybe it was because Doyoung was next to you.

But you had woken up to the sound of Doyoung groaning, and of course it caught you off guard. Your eyes immediately widened and you saw yourself laying on top of your boyfriend, you figured you had just somehow shifted into that position during your sleep since you definitely did not remember falling asleep like that. Therefore you didn't think much of it, that was until you felt Doyoung's hand grab onto your shoulder and attempt to push you off lightly.

“Y/n… can you stop doing that please…?”

Confused, you looked at your boyfriend as if he was out of his mind, “I'm not doing anything…?” You lightly said, trying not to disturb his still tired side that had yet to woke up completely, and you could only imagine how much more confused he became when his groaning shifted to moaning.

It took you a while to realize that your knee was in a place where it shouldn't have been…

“Crap! I'm sorry!” you said, feeling Doyoung's arms wrap around you as you could feel his slow but repetitive breaths lightly caress your skin.

“Y/n… I'm tired. Let's forget this and go back to bed.” You could hear his shaky yet desperate voice, that same voice that was probably about to fall asleep any moment now. It took you a while to realize that the reason you had probably felt so uncomfortable around him lately was because you were turned on by him in a way, which had you wondering how you hadn't noticed earlier.”

You heard a groan come from his mouth, which left a smirk tracing on your mouth, satisfaction running through his body as his back slowly arched. Your hand had traveled over to his tighted pants and gently squeezed him, making him moan ever so slightly.

His breathing became more regular, becoming a mix of breathing and moaning “Y/n… you shouldn't do this here…”

“What are you so afraid of?” You muttered lightly, not daring to leave out the mocking pitch, knowing he wouldn't be able to do anything about it since it was technically you in full control.

“Y/n- I have practice tomorrow” he whined, but your grip only got tighter. Doyoung’s moan got cut off by your abrupt kiss when you leaned up and connected your lips together, giving him a passionate and wet kiss.

You lifted his shirt to reveal his small and skinny figure along with the small shape of his forming abs, chuckling a bit, you licked his chest in which he lightly groaned and looked at you.

“Doyoung- you really have no idea what you've been doing to me lately.” You muttered, unzipping his zipper and massaging his crotch, using the little fabric that was his only advantage against him… no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he was turned on, and you were the cause of that.

There was no need for permission, your hand was already sliding up and down his bare cock, as his dick grew in your grip.

“You're all out with the teasing today aren't you?” he commented, chuckling at the act along with you. Ignoring him, you brought your free hand onto his stomach and gave him small belly rubs, you felt his hand travel to your back and down to your waist, as he held you in place to prevent you from falling. His eyes were shut as he was beginning to relax at your every move, still letting out small groans at the feeling of your hand sliding on his cock.

And you surely weren't expecting him to have such an impressive girth, you felt he was thick but you didn't expect him to be that thick.

“Y/n… please let me feel you-” he moaned, words barely forming and escaping his mouth. Hearing it for sure drove you crazy, so you nodded and turned around which was the first time you actually managed to get a good look at his dick.

“Doyoung, I hope you know that with this dick you're just gonna make me want you more…”

“If you want me, then claim me.”

The response took you by surprise, sure your boyfriend was flirty with everyone but this was different, and you knew that he had caught onto you and decided to get revenge for all the teasing you yourself was guilty of.

“You think I won't?” You smirked which made his cock grow stiff, he liked it.

“You like it when I tell you things like that?” You muttered softly, he shaked his head, a bit ashamed before ultimately nodding, which only earning a small giggle from you.

The both of you pulled into a wet kiss, tongues intertwining and transferring all your love to each other with that one singular kiss, morning practice was the last thing on his mind now, almost completely forgetting about it. Once the kiss was separated you took the moment to look at your boyfriend, who was making eye contact with you intimately.

“Get on me…”

“Doyoung- you feel good…”

Taking a moment to process his words before smiling, bringing yourself over to him as he slowly removed the shorts which surrounded and highlighted your waist, following his instructions and lining yourself up with him.

Doyoung fluttered a bit and you felt him twitch inside of you, you gave Doyoung a moment and started grinding yourself on him, allowing him to feel all the pleasure as you both shared knowing sounds and moans.

“Y/n… you-”

Unable to finish his sentence, you cut him off by leaning down and kissing his chest, trying your best to limit your moans and allow him to do all the talking, you allowed yourself to suck his nipple and play with his other as you picked up your speed, pressing his on parts onto him.

“You can't get any better at this can you…?” He commented, completely out of breath and with sloppy speech, hearing him being so distraught really did something with your subconscious, enough to make you pick up your speed once more earning a growl from him.

“Fuck Doyoung… you really know how to mess with my feelings don't you?”

“I really don't mean to…”

Feeling his dick once again begin twitching, you brought yourself off of him, having a gut feeling that he was close and which was proven to be correct shortly after.

Small bits of precum leaked out of his dick, which was proving to your theory furthermore.

“Y/n… I'm close… please don't stop.”

“I'm not going to, I wanna show you satisfaction to the fullest.”

He didn't know what you meant, that was until you flicked his crotch allowing him to feel a small moment of both pain and pleasure at the same time, all feelings overtook him as his eyes rolled back and mouth watered at the feeling of his cock being distributed from it's original state and ending up with a small mark.

And that only got worse, as it started with small flicks to full on slaps, you slapped his dick harshly yet still with caution as you knew you there was a higher possibility that you'd hurt him than actually please him.

“Fuck…!” He whined, his whimpers got loud as he attempted to limit his volume, for a moment forgetting you lived in an apartment building with neighbors on all sides of your room. “Y/n! Stop! Please!” he once again whined, which just made you slap him slightly harder.

Tears began forming in his eyes as he felt the feeling of his dick slapping against his stomach and being brought back up to your hand for you to just repeat the cycle, his tears streamed down his cheeks and his mind became overwhelmed with thoughts.

How was the feeling of both pain and pleasure all at once was darn addicting?

His mouth watered, as he picked up the nearest pillow and brought it to his face, all his cum leaked out of him the moment your hand allowed his crotch to breathe.

“Was I too harsh on you?” Pity finding your voice as you saw the mess your boyfriend had done.

You both had been virgins up until that point, and the feeling of something like sex was truly just so overwhelming, the feeling of each other's touch in such an intimate way just really fluttered both of your hearts.

“No… it felt good…”

“Can try cock warming in you…?”

“Of course…” you lightly responded, reading his excited expression, he smiled lightly and brought a himself inside of you once more.

It was truly when you realized that one singular night was truly all it took for something so unimaginable to happen to two individuals.

Just one singular night.

[whatdudtheysay]

One night stands

(PT.2)

(Satoru Gojo x f!Reader)

Context - Gojo can't resist you. Not after he's already had a taste. So when he sees you entering campus pretty late, he doesn't hold back

Requested by @yaesstuff ❤︎ (not proofread)

Part 1

CW - Unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, sloppy makeout

Gojo was watching you like a hawk all week. You really were confusing him. I mean. He literally fucked your brains out last week and you were acting like it never happened. Of course sukuna teased the fuck out of him too when getou snitched.

"Pft, couldn't make her cum, huh? Don't worry, satoru. Not all guys can make girls feel good." Sukuna hummed, focused on the videogame that he and Getou were playing.

"Shut the fuck up sukuna." Gojo spat, checking his phone and going through his many messages on Instagram.

Sukuna just rolled his eyes. "What? Bet I could make her squirt within fifteen minutes."

Gojo suddenly got up, catching the attention of the two boys.

"I'm going out to get more drinks."

"But we just bought-"

Gojo cut getou off by leaving the dorm, ruffling a hand through his hair as he made his way to the exit, the cold air prickling his skin. Obviously Gojo had no plan of getting more drinks, he just wanted to be away from sukuna. The way he talked about you made him feel.... Weird.

Gojo went into auto pilot, walking around campus whilst lighting up a cigarette, blowing puffs of air into the nights sky. He was going to continue doing laps around campus but then he spotted you, stopping dead in his tracks while he stared, watching as you ended the phone call you were on and adjusted your bag on your shoulder before pushing the doors open to the business department. Gojo contemplated what you'd be doing back here so late but figured you'd forgotten something.

Without thinking, his legs started making his way towards the entrance, entering after you and walking down the hall, peering into the few open rooms to no avail. He would've been oblivious but he then heard the sound of papers falling and your voice.

"Fuck," you cursed. Gojo walked further down the hall and peered into a door on his left, showing you in an empty I.T classroom, hovering over your computer whilst aggressively typing, your bag on the floor beside you.

Gojo walked in silently, stopping once he was behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

"You look frustrated." Gojo commented.

"Geez! Gojo-"

"Satoru. I think we're past formalities." Gojo corrected, grabbing a nearby office chair to sit on.

You lightly rolled your eyes before sitting down yourself, continuing your work.

"Did you follow me?" You accused.

Gojo put on a fake look of disbelief. "Me? I'd never."

You hummed softly, returning to what you were doing, Gojo peering over your shoulder.

"D'yu mind?" You asked, continuing to type up work.

"Not at all. Also you made a few errors."

You turned to face him, annoyance on your features. "What?"

Gojo pointed at the computer.

"The company you're working on didn't profit from those sales. They made too many products and not enough sales."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, your head slamming against the keyboard, a groan leaving you which almost made Gojo chuckle.

"I need to get this coursework done! I'll have to retake the class if I don't..." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face before focusing on the computer once more.

Gojo hummed thoughtfully.

"I'll help you. Besides. Finished mine few days ago."

You looked up at him, a big smile on your face. "Really? Ok thanks! Now help?" You rambled, moving the monitor closer to him.

You half expected Gojo to act smug about it but instead he actually helped you, telling you what to add and where you need to make changes, helping you complete a large portion of your project in the hour you were both there.

"Sheesh, 'm exhausted." You sighed, logging out of your account before grabbing your bag.

Gojo hummed in agreement before looking at the time.

1:00am.

He looked towards the open door and then at you, looking inside your bag to make sure you had everything. Gojo casually walked over to the door to close it before returning to you, making you look up at him.

He didn't give you a chance to question him this time, instead cornering you against him and the table, his hands running up your sides before he brought you into a warm kiss. You instinctively bit down on his lip, Gojo cursing as he retreated slightly, his tongue lightly slipping out to glide over his bottom lip.

"The hell was that for?" You asked, trying to ignore the warmth moving to your cheeks, instead looking at the blood on Gojo's lip.

Gojo didn't answer at first, instead staring at you silently.

You raised a brow and he finally sighed. "Isn't it obvious, pretty girl?"

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. "Seriously satoru?"

Gojo didn't answer, instead caging you between him and the table again, his mouth instead moving to your neck, making you gasp, your hands reluctantly moving up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck.

"Wait, satoru-" you tried to pry him off but he didn't show any signs of letting up on the attack he had on your neck. "someone might come in-"

Gojo just hummed, biting down into your flesh, a whimper leaving your lips. Gojo eventually began to trail down, pulling your shirt over your head to reveal your bra which he easily unhooked, slipping off the straps and letting the restricting material fall to the floor.

"Satoru-"

"Shh," Gojo hushed, looking up at you momentarily, "If you wanna stop just tell me, Kay?"

You nodded your head lightly, letting him continue. Gojo wasted no time, sucking and biting on one of your breasts whilst his free hand massaged your other mound, making sure to give them both equal attention whilst switching between them, leaving you gasping and whimpering. By the time he continued to trail lower, he'd gotten to your skirt, pulling it down along with your panties without any trouble.

You let out a frustrated whimper, making gojo look up.

"This is embarrassing, 'toru.." you mumbled, your hands moving up to cover your breasts.

Gojo realised you'd called him that nickname, a smirk stretching across his lips.

"Don't worry baby. I'll make you feel so good,"

You already knew that was a fact, so you stayed silent, letting him lick a stripe up your mound before kissing your clit lightly, chuckling to himself when you shuddered.

Gojo then let his tongue venture through your folds, lubricating you with his saliva and a mix of your slick.

"Wait- feels so good," you sighed, a hand moving to venture through Gojo's hair.

Gojo just hummed against you, continuing to make out with your pussy, enjoying the sudden jolts you did when his tongue prodded at your aching clit. Gojo then moved his hand up, letting his index finger slide through your folds, collecting your juices before moving to your entrance, pushing it into you, a broken whine leaving your lips, your hands tightening on his hair.

Gojo continued working you open, letting his middle finger slide in before he curled them, a loud moan coming from you, causing you to slap a hand around your mouth, your brows knitting together as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

"Satoru, I'm close-" you whimpered, your legs starting to shake as Satoru continued to lap at your clit, his fingers scissoring in and out of you at an almost rapid pace."please-"

"Please what?" He asked, moving away from your clit, allowing you to see how much your juices had soiled his face, your arousal dripping down his chin. The whole scene was too hot for you.

"I'm gonna-" you cried, not getting the chance to finish your sentence before you let out a loud whine, your eyes clamping shut as you came around his fingers. Once you rode out your high, you slowly opened your eyes, shocked at how soiled Gojo's shirt was now.

"Fuck- baby." Gojo commented. "Thought you were just a creamer."

Your eyes widened in realisation, your face warming even more.

"Well," you panted lightly. "You made me feel... Really good-"

Gojo couldn't hardly handle it anymore, rising to his full height to capture you in a rushed kiss, this time you allowed it, letting his tongue glide with yours, the taste of your arousal tickling your taste buds.

"Fuck, y/n. Can't wait anymore." Gojo groaned, grabbing your hand to lead it towards the bulge in his pants. "Think you can take me?"

You bit your lip, looking down at the print before meeting his eyes, nodding slightly, earning yourself a grin from Gojo.

"Alright. Bend over pretty thing."

You did as he said, bending over the table you were both previously working over, hands locking with each other as you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen.

Gojo rubbed your rear, his tip pushing against your entrance lightly, making you let out a shaky sigh. He suddenly snapped his hips into you, making you yelp in surprise, hands holding the table as he quickly rammed into you.

"Fu-Fuck, forgot how amazing this pussy felt-" Gojo lightly whined, groping your ass tightly.

"Don't- fuck, don't bullshit me," you groaned, trying your best to speak properly with the way he was pounding into you against the desk.

Gojo leaned over you, a hand moving toy with your clit.

"Don't believe me pretty thing?" Gojo whispered, his movements slowing down, making you bite your lip out of frustration.

You shook your head resulting in Gojo humming before he picked up his pace, making you moan aloud once more, your hand moving over your mouth as a last resort to keeping your lewd actions hidden.

"toru-" you cried, feeling your orgasm creep closer.

"Gonna squirt on my cock this time?" He questioned, hands rubbing your clit harder, making your eyes gloss over.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, feeling yourself about to tip over.

Sadly, Gojo stopped his movements, making you look back at him, a frown on your face. He pulled out of you, large hands manhandling you so you were on your back, his hands securing you in place.

Gojo couldn't help but smirk at the frown and glare you gave him. Almost identical to the one where he had you under him in his car.

"Don't worry, pretty girl.." Gojo chuckled, taking in the sight of you. "I'll let you cum..."

He slid back into you, both of your mouths falling open at the feeling. Your toes curled at the feeling of Gojo's dick splitting you open, your legs instinctively moving to wrap around his waist.

"Satoru, feels so good-!" You whimpered, hands moving to tug at your jolting breasts as you looked up at him. Pure lust behind your eyes.

And Gojo loved every second.

"Shit, you're such a good girl. I'm the only guy that's ever fucked you this good, huh?"

You nodded frantically.

"Only you Satoru -"

He's heard that countless times from different side chicks or fuck buddies but from your mouth, It sounded even better to his ears. Gojo rutted into you harder, enjoying your eyes rolling back and your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hands moving from your chest to rake at his chest.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum-" you moaned, your legs locking tighter around Gojo's waist.

"Fuck, princess, easy," Gojo cooed, even though your reactions only fueled his ego further.

You couldn't handle his harsh thrusts anymore, the coil in your stomach snapping, resulting in your mouth hanging open, drool lightly spilling from a corner as you squirted around his cock, Gojo's hips still ruthlessly ramming into your poor cunt, your orgasm making a huge mess on both you and the table.

"Fuck, that was so fucking hot," Gojo moaned, his hips reaching deeper into you, the overstimulation making you arch your back.

"Too muchh, 'toru," you mewled.

"Shit, gonna cum, just give me a minute."

You bit your tongue, letting Gojo use you as he pleased only turned you on further, the overstimulation finally settling, the discomfort slowly being replaced by pleasure.

Gojo on the other hand was on the edge of losing himself. He could tell by your moans getting louder that you were getting closer to another orgasm with the way you were sucking him so hard.

It felt like he was the one about to tap out. Your moans, your pussy giving him a death grip anytime he tried pulling out and the amazing warmth of your walls. He hadn't even cum yet but he felt like he was being overstimulated.

"Shit, satoru, I'm gonna-" you whined.

"Me too, princess." Gojo moaned, his thrusts becoming so rough to the point where you were scared the computers would fall off the table.

Your eyes quickly shut as you came around Gojo once more, a loud moan coming from both of you as your orgasm made yet another wet mess on the both of you, Gojo's hips lightly stuttering before he spilled his cum deep into you.

Both of you shivered as Gojo slowly pulled out, his dick covered in his cum. Gojo sighed deeply, watching as you slumped off the table and down to your knees, catching him off guard when you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip before you sucked against the underside, only stopping when you'd fully cleaned all of the aftermath off.

"You can consider that a 'thank you' for the help." You smirked, grabbing your clothes from the floor.

Gojo just hummed, still in the euphoric buzz of pleasure.

"Well..." He began, his breath uneven as he redressed himself. "If you want anymore help on coursework, you know I'm here."

You nodded thoughtfully as you pulled up your panties and skirt.

"Is that your respectful way of saying you wanna fuck again Satoru?"

He shrugged, his smirk returning.

"Well. We could always continue this at your dorm.."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You spend the night on the couch. You don't go further than the bathroom. You can't bring yourself to check her bedroom or the one you left behind.

You go out to get your bag and change in the yellow haze glowing behind the faded curtains. You check the time. Jan is expecting you in an hour.

You emerge into the dewy morning and tramp down to ground level. You get in the car, reversing out without looking back at the dingy house. The final farewell can't come soon enough for the slanted walls.

Jan is out in the yard, hammering a pineboard as you drive down his lot. His white hair curls with the sweat beading on his skin. He stills the hammer and wipes his forehead as you pull up. 

You get out as he greets you in the way all the villagers do. A manufactured friendliness that cannot erase their true judgement. They smile in face just as easily as the mutter your name under their breath. You mother harboured little good will in Hammer Ford and blood is sacred here.

“Sorry to hear,” he says.

“Matter of time,” you shrug dismissively.

“Isn't no way to come home,” he shakes his head and coughs into his fist, “walnut,” he points the hammer over his shoulder, “like ya said.”

Walnut, like the dining table. Where she sat and drank herself into that box. You nod and follow him over to the casket. The hinges are brass and the finish is rough. What does it matter? It's just going into the dirt.

“Got cash,” you say. Jan doesn't deal with the bank, everyone knows that. Funny the little things that stick with you.

“Thanks,” he accepts the bills as you count them out. So much for a rainy day. The sun shine bright as if mocking the grin affair beneath its watch. “I'll have it taken down to Norn's.”

“Yep,” you agree, “she's there.”

You head out without further niceties. Neither of you uphold those. Better to say what you mean and nothing else.

You get to the property line and idle. You turn away from the woods. You're not ready to go back yet. 

You stop by the church first. Father Oswald sits with you to discuss the ceremony. You'll say a few words at the grave site. You don't think anyone would come to a wake. You don't want them to.

You set off again, still reluctant to retrace your steps. You drive to the spare core of the village and park outside the library. You cross the street and peer in through the window of the bakery. It wasn't there when you left.

You venture inside and peruse the sweets behind the glass. You order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. You pay the woman behind the counter, vaguely familiar. You're certain she was a few years behind you at school.

You sit and pick at the glazed dough. You don't have much of an appetite. You don't feel much of anything. You're just wading through, try not to get lost in the tide.

You sip the coffee. Bold but rich. Not bad. Better than the instant powder gone stale in your mother's cupboard.

The door opens and shuts, several times over as you stare at the table. The city taught you apathy. You don't let the noise bother you.

The chair across from you slides out and a figure plants themselves on the seat. You raise your head, your vision narrowing to make sense of their features. You turn your head to gaze out the window as Loki blows over the top of a mug. 

You slide out your phone, a defence mechanism. Still no reception. You put it down and keep your attention diverted. He clears his throat and taps his toe next to yours.

“You know, I do have an important matter to discuss with you,” he says.

You don't react. You know that's what he wants. That's why he showed up the night before. He undoubtedly insisted on being his clan’s representative.

“You've sent your condolences.”

“Mm, yes, but that isn't what I mean,” he traces his finger up the handle of his mug. “The house.”

You lower your brows and keep your eyes beyond the window. The village moves slow as ever. Not like the endless flow of the city streets. There's no where to hide here.

“My father has an offer. The property has value.”

You check your cup, almost empty. You swig the last of it. You stand and gather the cup and unfinished dessert. You put the porcelain on the counter and toss the cinnamon bun on your way out.

The door doesn't close behind you. He's following you. Your heartbeat piques. In an instant, you're hurled into the past. You're running through broken twigs as he snickers behind you. You ball your hands as your breath hitches.

You cross the street without looking, only just dodging a bumper. You go to your car, fumbling with your keys. Before you can stick them in the slot, there's a snare around your arm.

You spin and shove Loki off of you, biting down on a shriek. You glare at him and point the key at his chin.

“Not interested.”

“My father will give you more than the bank,” he counters. 

“Don't care.”

He sniffs and quorks his head, “is this because I never called?”

You choke on a scoff. You turn and ram the keys in the slot and twist. You open the door as you step around it. The edge hits him as you swing into the driver’s seat.

“The house is worthless. The bank will give you pennies for the land.”

“Go tell your daddy you failed,” you sneer and yank the door shut, hitting the lock with your fist.

You start the engine without a glance in his direction. You pull put as he barely avoids getting his toes run over. Just as ever, this village belongs to the Odinsons. They won't have to pay the bank much to get what they want but you will never sign your name next to theirs.

[pianokantzart]

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 8)

What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 ________

Following the map on his Dual Scream and going deeper into the mountain, Luigi stops when he encounters a giant metal facade shaped like E. Gadd's face, whose mouth forms a shut door that blocks his path.

"H_ld on," the static-muffled voice of E. Gadd assures over the DS, "I'll g_t th_ do_rs open."

Sure enough, the metal mouth opens up, but as Luigi walks down a long, dim hallway, he grows nervous about the worsening signal between him and the professor, and he begins slapping the side of his device to try and fix it.

"Easy th__re son_y. Just k__p f_llowing the map. The s_gn_al sho_ld clear up right ab_out.... now" E. Gadd's crackling voice assures. On cue, the professor's voice and picture becomes crystal clear as Luigi emerges from the illuminated tunnels into a large laboratory.

"Normally, signals can't travel that far underground," the professor explains. "Luckily, I built a frequency booster into my lab. If I hadn't, all communication and teleportation in and out of Thwomp Mountain would be impossible."

"Teleportation?" Luigi asks while prodding at the large satellite dish in the corner– what he assumes to be the frequency booster.

E. Gadd chuckles. "See that large green monitor on the east end of my lab?" Luigi's attention shifts enormous glowing green tv screen on the opposite end of the room. He approaches it as the professor continues: "That's the Pixelator, Kiddo! And that's exactly what we're gong to use to get you into King Boo's mansion.

"How do I use it?" Luigi asks, looking around in awe of all the technology around him. E. Gadd replies: "Just stand in front of the monitor. I'll use my Dual Scream's remote access to set its destination. Give me one second."

While Luigi is waiting for Professor E. Gadd to activate the Pixelator, he notices the atmosphere in the room begin to change; the lights dim, and the air grows cold to the point that Luigi can see his breath.

"Professor, I'm not one to tell you how to use your own technology, but I think you accidentally turned off the lights... or the thermostat?" The professor responds to this comment with a long moment of thoughtful, anxious silence.

"Luigi, did anyone follow you into my lab?" E. Gadd eventually asks. This question intensifies Luigi's growing fear. He pulls out the Poltergust flashlight and looks around the darkened lab while saying that he didn't see anyone following him, to which E. Gadd shakes his head. "Just because you didn't see anyone, doesn't mean you weren't followed!"

Suddenly, glowing etherial bars block off the doors and the exits. Three greenies, a hider, and a slammer materialize and start wreaking havoc, frightening Luigi to the point that he runs off to take cover behind a lab desk.

Pulling out his Dual Scream, Luigi tries to ask E. Gadd what to do, as he has never seen these types of ghosts before, but to his dismay the professor's voice and image have been replaced with an alert that reads "signal lost."

Luigi peeks out from his hiding place, and sees the greenies are egging on the slammer as he tears large chunks out of the frequency booster.

Luigi, yelling for the ghosts to stop, leaps into action with Poltergust in hand. A fight breaks out, and while Luigi gets knocked around at first as he struggles to figure out his attackers, he eventually makes effective use of the strobulb and gets the upper hand.

Soon, the atmosphere of the room returns to normal and the bars disappear from the doors, but this brings little relief to Luigi. With the frequency booster broken he has no ability to contact E. Gadd., and E. Gadd has no control of his lab. Even the large metal door out of the lab refuses to budge, leaving Luigi trapped in the heart of the mountain.

Luigi sits down amidst the wreckage, struggling to hold it together. Bruised and exhausted, he takes off his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow, when who should appear but Polterpup who... seeing the hat up for grabs... snatches it away and runs off.

Luigi impatiently chases the dog around the lab until he trips over an overturned cabinet full of journals and schematics, scattering papers everywhere.

After finally retrieving his hat, Luigi begins to pick up some of the scattered documents, when he stumbles upon a file for the frequency booster, filled with blueprints and schematics.

Luigi thumbs through the file curiously. He looks at his useless Dual Scream, then at a box of tools in the corner. He takes a deep breath, and gathers up the broken pieces of the machine to see what he can do to repair the damage.

A montage ensues of him slowly and carefully fixing the frequency booster. With polterpup overlooking his progress in mindless, playful curiosity, Luigi manages to get the machine running after after a few tries.

Opening his Dual Scream back up, Luigi is pleased to see the "signal lost" alert has disappeared, but as he tries to call the professor he is surprised when Princess Daisy answers the DS in his stead.

"Hey! The Green Wonder lives!!!" the princess laughs, "What happened, man!? E. Gadd said he lost contact!" "Ghosts." Luigi said with a meek shrug, "they damaged the machine that lets signals leave the mountain, but I got it fixed."

"Brains and brawn? You're just the whole package, aren't ya!" Luigi smiles shyly at the complement, but before he can thank her he is interrupted by a heavy thud and the sound of commotion on Daisy's end of the line.

"Are you okay?" Luigi asks. "Oh yeah! We just entered Evershade Valley airspace and there's this stupid purple mist that makes it impossible to see." Daisy explains, "Luckily, The Professor has pinpointed the main locations of The Darkmoon fragments, so that should make navigation a little easier. Oh! Speak of the devil-"

E. Gadd suddenly arrives, and interrupts by pulling the Dual Scream from Daisy's hands. Luigi overhears a brief scuffle between the princess and the professor, but E. Gadd eventually wins out on the argument that Daisy needs to focus on the controls before she drives the entire ship into the side of Snowcap Mountains.

"Luigi!" E. Gadd says once he has hold of the Dual Scream. "You had me worried!" "Sorry. I–" "It's okay Sonny, what matters is I've regained a signal connection with my mountain lab! I assume you made quick work of those ghosts?" "Y-Yeah! I–" Luigi tries to explain, but the professor impatiently waves him off. "Well, we've lost too much time as it is. Get back to the Pixelator so I can get you out of there!"

Luigi goes to the Pixelator, and though he remains mesmerized by the machinery he grows a little nervous upon reconsidering the idea of being teleported. "You' sure this is safe?" he asks.

"Well, none of the mice I tested it on had any complaints!" E. Gadd. says, "however, you might want to hold as still as possible, just in case." Before Luigi can reply, the machine activates. With a terrified yelp Luigi flies apart into pixels and is sent hurtling through the vortex of a shining green TV screen.

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.2 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2: 2912

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part of the story! I'll do my best to update every 1-2 weeks and to keep things interesting. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome, and if anyone wants to be notified for updates, drop your name in the comments and I'll gladly tag your @.

Warning: Flashback, mentions of violence, blood, and sex toys (odd combo, I know)

2…9…1…2

Deft fingers punched in the numbers on the door’s keypad, a practiced crescendo of beeps and bops granting you access to your flat. Hesitant fingers that dropped to the handle, but refused to push forward, instead anchoring you there. Not yet, you mumbled, your eyes squeezing shut as soon as your forehead hit the frame.

Today has been a long day. So long that you barely had a moment to process the line of rapid escalations as it brought you to this very doorstep, with the ghost of your former scarf dangling from your neck. Some people would rather be glued to the little screens of their little phones than discipline their eight-year-old brats who, for some reason, thought playing tug of war with others’ scarves while they busted their gut to make a leaving to be of utmost entertainment.

Some people ought to keep their genes to themselves, you exasperated, untying the fabric from your neck and then balled it inside your bag, zipping the bunny across the seam.

The bunny…

Toji…

It was becoming a habit of yours to follow up his name with a sigh. Sometimes a sigh that meant “What am I going to do with you?” and others coming from a place of deep longing and frustration, meaning “What am I going to do without you?”

He said he’d be home after “snipping some loose ends,” which in his dictionary either referred to him breaking some poor woman’s heart, or quite literally stabbing some equally unfortunate man’s heart out of his body at his job’s demand. Depending on the plausibility of each scenario, you were given a minimum of four and a maximum of six hours to try and make sense of his actions and devise a plan to make this cohabitation work.

You licked your lips for the millionth time that day, gnawing at the chapped flesh with the edge of your teeth. No lip balm could aspire to salvage their sorry-ass state, aggravated by the low temperatures and honed by your continuous munching on them. You’d become so conscious of their existence, that it seemed as if you were trying hard to erase it before he had the chance to realize his goal of kissing them— even when that was a common goal shared by the both of you.

The taste of metal pooled in the hollow of your mouth, your teeth sinking a tad too deep. There wasn’t much reason to keep contemplating that which never happened and that which, perhaps, would never come. You wiped your shoes on the crooked doormat (was it always crooked?) and walked inside, your legs nearly giving out at the sight of two knees dangling from your beloved couch’s armrest.

“Woah, keep it down, won’t ya?”

None other than the voice of Toji reprimanded you as you screamed at the top of your lungs. His body was spilled across your couch, the expanse of muscles barely fitting upon the three azure-colored pillows. A soda —your soda— nested in his palm, while a bag of empty potato chips —your chips— lay on the kotatsu.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?” A trembling hand reached out to where your heart supposedly was, checking whether it was still in its place.

“Watching some travel show about Chikura,” he answered, unfazed and undisturbed. “You like abalone, right? Why don’t we-”

“I’m asking, how the fuck did you get in here?”

“Oh, that,” Toji smirked, lowering the TV’s volume just when the travel host was about to devour a platter full of steaming hot seafood—mouthwatering enough to divert your attention for a second. “Sayaka let me in.”

“Sa-yaka…?”

“Flat hair, narrow eyes— kinda like Izumi Pinko. Walks around with a cane twice her size. Rings a bell?”

“Talking about Ogawa-san?” you asked, a caricature of your crabby landlady taking shape before your very eyes. “She never lets in anyone without a key, though. Last time I forgot mine, she acted as if she didn’t know me and went right past. Had to phone a locksmith,” you sighed, murmuring under your breath about the extravagant sum of money you were forced to pay. “How did you do it? Convince her to open up?”

“How else ya think?” His chin rotated leisurely atop his knuckles.

“You can’t be serious! Y-you fucked her?” Your eyes went wide like saucers, the notion sounding both feasible and surreal.

His smirk sharpened into a sly grin as he stood up, a slight slouch on his shoulders carrying him to your eye level. You couldn’t exactly look away from this proximity, so you began quietly analyzing him. The tight-fitting black tee and baggy training pants that greatly accentuated his hips and shoulders; his work outfit. The overgrown hair that curtained the dark circles of his eyes; evidence of a sleepless night. The absence of scent, not even of dirt, sweat, or struggle. He must’ve actually been working on a bounty, you deduced, your final thought of rationale as he invaded the last bit of personal space you’d left.

“You really think the worst of me, huh?” His tongue circled his lips, prompting yours to do the same as you sheepishly shook your head, the sultry sound of his voice as hypnotizing as his hooded green eyes were.

“You think I go ‘round spreading the legs of everything that moves?” Toji asked again, his tone growing more condescending by the second. “ ‘fraid that ain’t the case, princess. I’m not into goodwill. Don’t do things without merit, either. She asked who I was, got all perky when I said I’m moving in, and then handed me these,” he paused, throwing a bundle of creased envelopes at your feet.

You kneeled awkwardly, seeking the sender’s origin in each logo seal. Water company. Electricity company. Phone company. Insurance company. Even the bills from that one debit card Hinata issued in your name in case of an emergency.

“Could say I paid my way in,” he scoffed, his eyes searching for an inkling of appreciation that he failed to find in your stubborn squint.

“I could’ve handled these myself.”

“Thought you’d say this, that’s why I saved this one,” he tossed another, smaller yellow-tinted paper onto the pile. “Eviction notice. My, you have it quite hard, don’tcha?”

“I don’t need classes on financial handling from someone whose living conditions are entirely dependent on ‘the bimbo of the week’,” you snapped, rising back to your feet with the bills in hand.

Maybe things were a bit tighter these past few months than you’d accounted for, but you weren’t like him. Sooner or later, you paid all expenses through sheer work and effort— a concept foreign to him, who’d rather be thrown into the streets than save a dime.

You weren’t like Toji. Not one bit. You knew that if he hadn’t run into your landlady, you would have definitely paid all your debts off in a month’s time or two, even if that meant devolving your breakfast’s nutritional value to that of instant ramen. You could take care of yourself, just like you’d done for 14 years now. He had no right to interfere because, come next month, you’d—

But the overdue deadlines at the top of each paper spoke louder than your inner thoughts and bravado did. The next month would never come for you. Not in this house, at least.

Defeated, you unfolded the paper, straightening the creases your fingernails had helped create. You hated feeling this way— indebted. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into just another transactional relationship with an expiration date dependent on the other’s wage.

“Thank you, and,” you mumbled, your stare hiking up his body and stopping at his chest —right about where the difference in your height manifested— “….sorry, I guess. Just thought that with the way you look, and all that-”

“The way I look…?” A winsome smile tugged at his dimples, his left hand weaving through his hair as if he were oblivious to how effortlessly attractive he appeared in his work clothes, every single crevice of his body visible under the little piece of fabric.

“N-never mind.” You tore your eyes away, cheeks flushing bright red at thoughts a friend shouldn’t be having. “How was work?”

“Pretty dead,” he shrugged, using the same hand to rub some of the tension around the crook of his neck. “Don’t see a real challenge rising until that Gojo kid hatches from his egg. Rest die like flies.”

As a regular person with about an average percentage of cursed energy running through your system, you had little understanding of the mystical world of Jujutsu and its sorcerers, all the information you had acquired being bits and pieces that Toji had shared with you over the years. He never went into too much detail about his job but never hid anything either. He killed sorcerers with the same ease he spread butter on his bread.

You really didn’t understand much, and perhaps the keywords “kills for a living” ought to ring an alarm or two, but an outsider like you who didn’t abide by their rules had no right judging those who broke them. Besides, with the way his family had disposed of him as if he were a chewed piece of gum stuck on the back of their sole, things weren’t as black and white as one would assume.

“Gojo, you say,” the name sounding awfully familiar on your tongue. “Is that one of the three big clans?”

Toji nodded, his arms folding over his chest. “Special grade when he ain’t grown any pubes yet,” he scoffed, voice twisting in an unnatural way that could have tricked you into thinking he was jealous of the young boy.

“Are you gonna kill him?”

His brows knitted together, clearly not expecting such bluntness. “Question is, can I? Answer being, for the right price,” the frown he wore subdued into a crooked smile. “maybe. Kid should fetch one good wad of cash. I’m sure many want the six eyes out of the picture.”

Six eyes?

“Just make sure you save some of it,” you mindlessly said, eyes dancing around the room for the first time since you’d entered the house.

There were no real signs of his presence. The duffel bag seemed to be nowhere in sight either. Only his shoes were left by the door right next to yours, a sign you’d completely missed upon entering.

“What happened to your things, by the way? Don’t see ‘em.”

“Took the liberty of sorting them out,” Toji said. “You had a lot more empty space than you made it sound earlier.”

Somehow that statement terrified you— not because you were some overbearing control freak who didn’t want others interfering with their stuff, but because you feared the misplaced items he might have found casually lying around, providing him with all the excuse he needed to tease you to an excruciatingly slow and shameful death.

You went on a parade through the rooms, Toji following in your steps like a well-trained puppy, letting you freely inspect the new “changes”.

In the living room, you spotted a pair of dumbbells lying by the window, heavy enough that when you tried to pick one of them up, it resulted in one loud, unintentional shriek as your feet were nearly crushed, much to Toji’s vile amusement. Then in the bathroom, you found a second toothbrush that shared the exact same color yours did, along with a black fuzzy towel and a men’s deodorant that was missing its lid. You’d have to get another cup for his toothbrush, you noted, and moved along, eventually making it to your apartment’s sole bedroom.

“Where are your clothes?” you asked, Toji nodding in your closet’s direction.

You opened the first door, finding a series of dark-colored shirts, sweaters, and cardigans hanging from the previously vacant racks. You didn’t wear much color yourself, but when comparing the disparity between his almost exclusively black side of the space and the creamier pastels that predominated yours, the clash in taste was indisputable.

Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through his clothes, stopping at the dark blue parka you’d gotten him for his 21st birthday. He wasn’t the type to keep gifts from women, but seeing he’d preserved yours in mint condition filled you with a strange sense of pride.

“Not bad,” you exclaimed, satisfied with how aptly his clothes were displayed until a new worry surfaced. “What about your underwear?”

He glanced toward the bottom drawer, his instep gently kicking against it. You weren’t too sure if that was necessary, and under different circumstances, you’d rather avoid such overt embarrassment, but this was your house first and foremost. Your closet, your drawer, and—

“The bottom drawer…?” The realization struck like a ton of bricks, your pupils widening and then trembling as a breath hitched up your throat, remaining there.

The bottom drawer is where you kept it, perhaps the only thing in this entire household that you’d rather he didn’t see, at the cost of your own life, even. A rabbit, whose little ears tapped in excitement every time it saw you. A rabbit vastly different from the ones that hopped around happily in fields or the one that was weaved through the zipper of your handbag. A rabbit that had kept you company in his place many nights and knew the sound of his name better than Toji himself did.

Sinking to your knees, you felt his shadow loom over you like the shadow of imminent death. You let go of that breath and yanked the drawer open, eyes squinting at the sight of neatly stacked black boxers, their size big enough to make you arch a brow, yet not big enough to completely conceal 6 inches of hot pink. You were safe.

“Looking for this?” A light buzz rang in your ear, your head tilting to meet Toji’s namesake.

“G-give it back!” You dived forward, gracelessly collapsing at his feet when he pulled it out of reach.

“Come and get it,” Toji retorted, wiggling it before your very eyes.

Piecing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you pounced at him, fingers locking around the silicone and his hand, while he refused to surrender, his thrilled expression revealing just how much he enjoyed the demand in your tone as you bossed him into handing back the vibrator.

“What will I get in return?”

“Wha— why would you get anything?” You gritted your teeth, stumbling forward as he dragged you to him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his forefinger playfully. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. If ya really want it, better compensate me first. Oh, look, it has multiple speeds, huh….” he said semi-impressed, revving up the rabbit’s switch to its second and third speeds.

“…What do you want?” You practically begged, seeking a way out of this humiliation.

“Now we talking,” Toji smirked, barely restraining himself from ruffling the hair of the ferocious, albeit cute, beast that attacked him. “2912. What do the numbers mean? Tried your birthday first, but seems like you do have a few brain cells in there,” he tapped at your temple with his free hand, frustration pooling in your eyes. “Then your mom’s death anniversary, your sis’ birthday, that brat’s too— even mine, but no good.

“So, what’s 2912 to you? Indulge me, and I’ll let you have it.”

2912, or more accurately, 29/12. It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t remember. After all, it wasn’t an important date, just another winter’s day from many, many years ago. A day that was all but erased under the thick blanket of snow as it engulfed your tender memories.

A heavy sigh parted your lips, and at that moment, you knew you’d already lost.

“You really wanna know?”

It was the 27th of December.

The 27th morning of a month whose sole notable event was the week-long blizzard that’d condemned the entire nation to a period of absolute and unfaltering inertia. Well, as unfaltering as the in-between downpours let it be, snow washing over the streets in a diluted mixture of ice and mud every two days— streets turning into a dangerous minefield, and hospital beds quickly filling up with broken-boned smarty pants who thought wandering out and about in the heart of winter would be as inconsequential as those dull days were.

You were one of those idiots. Not quite, but you were on your way to join their ranks, every step you took across the frozen pavements of Tokyo threatening to leave you with a bad case of a sprained ankle, or worse, a cracked skull. You regretted wearing those worn-out boots today of all days, but then again, your wardrobe choices were limited to whatever clothing you’d grown out of, and the clothes your mother left behind.

This old suede pair was hers, too. A gift from back when your house was still open to crowds and birthday parties— when it wasn’t just an empty carcass of termite-eaten joists and web-infested corners that could barely welcome, let alone host, the final of its residents: yourself.

Returning to the reason why you’d chosen today as the day to stride across Shibuya —a thermos of soothing Butajiru soup gripped tightly between your mitten-clad palms and a backpack full of advertising fliers for your afternoon job attached to your back— and consequentially, the reason why you sported your mother’s beloved shoes: you had a job interview. Your first non-canceled interview in over two months since your personal inertia began when you were suddenly and unjustifiably laid off.

Those were tough times. The entire country was dipped in despair over the biggest economic recession they’d known. Left and right, people had their jobs snatched from within their grasp in the name of meek excuses such as cost reduction, or merging and buyouts, or even staff redundancy, and who could blame those small enterprise owners, really?

In any case, the cost of running your previous employer’s rathole of a convenience store might have been reduced, but your living expenses weren’t, and the supplementary funds the state provided were running dry. No one wanted to hire an inexperienced, uninsured high schooler. It was too much of a gamble, especially when the contenders were overqualified college graduates desperate enough to work menial jobs for the same breadcrumbs a part-timer would.

You were at your wit’s end. Out of luck and starved for something other than vending machine onigiri. Thirsty for a life you’d probably never be able to obtain. But today wasn’t about wallowing in self-pity. No, today was the day you’d take your first step toward normality and dignity. Today, you marched proudly in your mother’s most prized possession, and today you felt her comforting scent linger in the breeze, giving you the much-needed push to achieve what you’d set out to do.

Live. That was the final request that left her lips, and that was exactly what you were planning to do. You’d live. No matter what, against all odds, you would live.

The headlights at the bustling intersection shone a brilliant green as the herd of sharply dressed businessmen and casually dressed students on their day off pushed forward like a troop of toy soldiers, sweeping you past Shibuya River, where the crystallized waters from below its bridge stilled your grimacing reflection.

It’d been so long since the last time you’d genuinely smiled that your facial muscles barely remembered how to. It looked awkward and forced. Foreign. You’d practiced your introduction days ahead, but that damn smile stood in the way. If only there was a “smiles for dummies” playbook, though you doubted it’d help. Those without a reason to smile could only second-guess the happiness of those who were blessed with it.

As if to further test your theory, today’s misfortune came pedaling right in your direction, a hasty biker knocking the thermos off your hands and onto the water with a faint “sorry” echoing in his stead. You ducked over the handrail, spotting the silver shine a couple of meters away from the river’s brink. You sighed in relief, grateful that the impact hadn’t shattered the ice and that you still had about 45 minutes to catch your interview— more than enough time for you to carry out your flask’s impromptu rescue operation.

You walked over to the bridge’s sideline, where, in place of stairs, an overgrown cherry tree cast its shadow. This was far from sensible, but the cliff wasn’t steep enough to dissuade you. You looped your scarf around a leaning branch and began your descent, the non-existent friction between your tattered soles and the slippery cement sending you to meet your maker as you tumbled down the slope and hit the ground. Shit.

Once you were done lamenting your sheer idiocy, your faulty shoes, the tree branch, the weather forecast, and every Shinto deity’s name you could remember off the top of your head, you pushed yourself onto your knees, carefully rotating each ankle around itself. Not broken. Thank those aforementioned gods you cursed, or else you’d never be able to afford the medical bills.

You shook the snow off your clothes and stood up, stretching both arms over your head, only to realize your blunder had become a lonesome spectator’s object of amusement. The man —assuming that the creature behind you was a man and not some wild beast with the way his jacket fluffed over his skull— was bent in half, knees to his chest, and arms coiled around, the sole distinctive trait that of his sparkling green eyes zeroing in on your plainer orbs.

You could have sworn you heard a chuckle, too, but you weren’t about to start a fight with some unhinged bum at the bottom of a bridge— not when you were one missed bill away from sharing his fate.

Deciding to temporarily forsake his presence, you located the now broken branch and attempted to fish your bottle out, moving as close to the ice as you could. Desperate lunges pushed the thermos further in, your hold on the wood relaxing with each failed attempt until you barely had a grip.

“Excuse me!” you turned at your last resort. “Hi, um… could you please help me out here? I dropped this into the water, and it’s really important I get it back, but my arms can’t reach and the ice is so thin and slippery I just might fall.”

An uncomfortable chuckle failed to appease its tough crowd, with the man remaining lost in his thoughts, his eyes blinking slower than traffic lights during rush hours. It seemed like you’d found the worst person to exercise your communication skills with.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to blink in surprise, your jaw dropping at the man’s barking. You were too shocked to be offended and too offended to question if it was you he addressed, but his next sentence left no real room for misunderstanding.

“I said, shut the fuck up and take it elsewhere. You were the one who dropped it. If it was that important to you, then shoulda taken better care of it instead of avalanching your way down here and disturbing my peace.”

Clapping your hands over your agape mouth, you muttered an apology and faced away from him, coming to your senses a minute later when you realized you weren’t in the wrong. Sure, he could be dealing with some lachrymose life-shattering situation you knew nothing about, but that wasn’t an excuse for him to act like a complete jerk to a fellow stranger in need.

You weren’t sure why you held back from flipping him off. Maybe you’d accepted that dealing with douchebags was going to become part of your new reality as a service worker, or maybe it was because you really didn’t want any trouble with a guy who looked this intimidating even while seated. Either way, you whipped out your trusty branch again and neared the brink, this time using it as a cane to help you tread the frozen waters and snatch your thermos.

You didn’t even get a chance at a victorious cheer when you felt the ice shatter beneath your feet, eager to swallow you into the depths of its bottomless abyss. Or that’s what would have happened if the river didn’t cap at 2 meters, and if a hand didn’t yank you by the scruff of your neck, hurling you back to the shore as if you weighed no more than a snowflake.

“The hell you think you are doing? Got a death wish or something?” the brass voice of your savior accused, belonging to a much more pleasant and youthful face than one would have expected.

The boy was more or less your age, about a head taller with broad shoulders and a toned physique his baggy clothes undermined— much stronger than your average high-schooler, judging by the sheer strength he’d flung your body with. Messy raven black hair rained down to his ears, sloppily chopped into shape by their owner himself. Eyes as green as a thousand springs gone by, and as fiery as the blazing fury scorching them. The only discord in his features was that of a scar on the right side of his lips, begrudgingly moving with each profanity he spat.

Your second apology came as a knee-jerk reaction to his outburst, encouraged by the temporal trance his good looks had subjected you to. You wouldn’t say you had a type, and even if you did, you doubted that a no-good, rude bridge inhabitant was it. However, the only way for you to tear your gaze off of him was to physically force yourself away. The guy murmured something under his breath and moved back to his original spot, arms dangling over his spread thighs.

You were unsure of what to do. The time for your interview was closing in, and no one guaranteed he wouldn’t rip the vocal cords off your throat if you tried to verbally thank him. You had a very bad feeling about this guy, and perhaps you should have listened to your gut rather than nullifying the distance with a peace offering.

“Here,” you prodded a spare cup of soup into the empty space between you.

He arched a brow at your gesture, his irritation gradually melting into curiosity and then acceptance as he brought the cup to his lips and took a hesitant sip.

“Hmm,” he hummed, gulping down some more after he’d made sure you weren’t trying to poison him.

You expected something else to follow, but it seemed like his outburst exhausted his vocabulary. You could always ask what he thought of it, but the thought alone was as scary as going for another suicide dive. So you said nothing, and he did the same. Just two strangers who barely tolerated each other sharing a moment of silence in the snowy landscape.

A short while later, the boy shoved the cup toward you and dug his hand in his jacket’s front pocket, dropping about six crumpled ten-thousand yen bills at your feet.

“For the soup,” he explained as if the notion of spending such an extravagant sum on half a cup of pork loin soup made sense.

“Are you outta your mind?” You pushed the bills back at him, lest your greed take over. “How much do you think this cost to make?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, no real hurry to reclaim his cash.

Your initial impression was completely false. No bum would ever wave ten-thousand bills around as if they were nothing. No, this guy ought to at least be some troubled conglomerate heir that’d run away from his five-bedroom mansion.

“I’m sure you don’t know how dangerous this neighborhood is,” you said, placing your hand against your heart. “But as a born and raised local, allow me to say that if you keep flaunting wads of cash in people’s faces so recklessly, it won’t be long before you get mugged. It’s your lucky day you ran into me and not some sleazy money grabber, but trust me, not every day’s lucky, and not everyone’s as nice.”

Something about what you said must have resonated with him, considering his frown cracked into a simper.

“I’d like to see them try,” he spoke in a cocky tone that reeked of confidence. “How much for seconds then?”

“Not for sale,” you answered, throwing the thermos inside your backpack.

His weight shifted in your direction, chin balancing against his elbow. “Why not?”

“You see, I’m on my way to a job interview. Figured if I don’t cut it, then the soup will,” quickly adding, “It’s my trump card.”

“What a dumb plan,” he sneered. “If ya wanna bribe someone, better make an offer they can’t refuse. Couple of these work like a charm.”

He waved the money again, successfully drawing your interest when you noticed tiny splotches of red on one of the bills. Blood.

Picking up on the change in your expression, he hurriedly stuffed the cash inside his pocket, his thumbs sticking out in a relaxed grip so as to hide his discomfort. The air grew heavy once more, albeit for a different reason.

Every guess you’d made regarding this guy’s identity clashed with the next one. He was rude, but he’d jumped to your rescue. He looked unkempt yet strikingly handsome. He’d taken refuge under a bridge but was damn loaded. A walking (more like seated) contradiction of a man that intrigued you in more ways than he repulsed you.

“So, what are you doing out here? Did you also fall from up there?” You chuckled nervously while pointing upward.

He smiled.

“That’s a pretty old-school pickup line, if ya ask me.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Your chest pounded against your fleece jacket, hands quick to dispute him. “Did something happen? Why did you end up here?”

He shook his head.

“Did you run away from home?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you get into a fight with someone?”

He thought about shaking his head a third time, but instead, he opted for a groan and hissed about how he should have let you drown.

Your tongue embarrassed you yet again, as you mumbled an apology and cowered in your corner. For some reason, you couldn’t stop apologizing to him, and if that was enough to frustrate you, then it was definitely enough to annoy him. Maybe the time to leave had come. You’d done your part in thanking him, and it was really none of your business to pry into his sad character backstory.

“Well then. It was nice knowing you, and all. Hope you have a Happy New Year’s and a nice life, and let’s never see each other again for as long as we-”

“What if I told you I just killed someone?”

The blood in your veins froze for a reason separate from the cold. You were left staring at him with wide-open eyes and a wide-open mouth that refused to form anything other than a soundless “What?!”

“Thought so,” he scoffed as if he expected the outcome, sorrow lingering in his voice. “Go away if ya don’t wanna end up the same way. I’m still getting the hang of it, and I’m afraid it’d hurt more than drowning.”

But you didn’t leave. Even when that little voice of reason thrashed and begged for you to seize the opportunity and get the fuck away from this place, your legs refused to take another step. Instead, you settled back upon the snowy blanket and stilled your gaze on his face, watching a glimmer of something tune in the green of his eyes.

“W-Who was it?” You feigned calmness.

“Does it matter?” he shrugged.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it really matter?” he sighed, reconsidering his answer. “Dunno. Money, I guess. Not as if I had a personal grudge or anything. Didn’t even know the dude up until three days ago. Took him out with a single bullet to his brain. T’was instant since he didn’t move. Painless, too.” He tried to humanize his actions.

You weren’t entirely sold on his story, but on the off chance he was telling the truth, that made him a murderer and you a witness to his crime. Worse, if you didn’t rat on him, it made you an accomplice, and as far as you were concerned, neither was less illegal than the other.

Your hands cupped your mouth completely as you pretended to blow hot air, the reality being that you didn’t want to spew anything too backhanded before thinking things through. Oddly, it all made sense. The reason he sat down there like a puppy kicked by his owners. His devil-may-care attitude and rude comments that meant to throw you off. The blood on the bills and the stain on the hem of his jacket that you’d previously overlooked.

That was all the incriminating evidence one needed to possibly sentence him, and yet you sensed no real danger in his presence. Only a deep sadness that stemmed from his lifeless eyes, making you believe that his so-called victim was none other than himself. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in God knows how long, the light in his eyes reduced to a murky shade of jade now that everything was laid bare.

There was so much you didn’t know about this boy, his name included. But you knew that look of despair all too well. If it was because of money, then maybe, just this once, you wouldn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“How much did you make?” You lowered your palms.

Your question surprised him more than he thought possible, and his stupefied expression was a telltale sign of that. He flipped both pockets inside out and let the money fall onto the snow, revealing twice the amount he’d held before— a total of 120.000 yen.

“Minus a grand. Felt hungry after,” he admitted.

“Must be nice… With that amount of money, I could have rice to last me until the end of the year.”

“You’d kill for rice…?”

Glancing at his face, you couldn’t help yourself from snorting. You were both too deep inside the twilight zone to be questioning each other’s motives.

“Why act surprised? People like us do all sorts of things to get out of our predicaments, don’t we?” you asked, deciding there were more things you had in common than things that divided you. “Is ‘just money’ a better reason than rice?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “But if I were you, I’d get myself a pair of boots that ain’t a death trap of its own. Gotta be a special kind of idiot to wear crappy shoes in the snow.”

“These were my mother’s!” you objected, and he smirked. “What about you? Where do you plan on spending all that money?”

“Roppongi probably. Or Kabukicho. Heard the right price fetches you the right type of fun there.”

He couldn’t be serious. Those were two of the most renowned bad districts in the history of bad districts. Drugs, gambling, prostitution— you name it.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than you,” he childishly retorted.

“What’s your name?”

“So you can snitch?” His tongue wet the scar below his bottom lip. “Toji.”

“Last name?”

He contemplated his answer for a bit before proudly stating that he didn’t have one —that he didn’t need one— and then he asked you the same.

“Y/N.” You smiled faintly. “I do have a last name, but doubt the one who gave it wants me to have it. Would’ve asked it back if it had any real value.”

“So we are two fuck-ups,” he— Toji, declared.

“I suppose we are.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the kind that wasn’t heard but felt through the eyes of two kindred spirits entirely content with each other’s presence. Ever since your mother passed, you lived in a sphere separate from other people. Your classmates and those who tried to be your friends could afford the luxury of sharing takoyaki on a school day and going karaoke singing the next. They could attend field trips and leave memories on a string of Polaroid frames.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. There wasn’t a single moment in your life when you hadn’t thought about the cost of milk and the value of one-plus-one deals you convinced yourself you didn’t need. Such were the concerns you had at seventeen. Not boys, no friendships, no university entrance exams, no nothing. You couldn’t afford the price tag of a dream, let alone a tomorrow. You lived for today and for making ends meet, so how could someone like you ever aspire to be understood? How could you ever view yourself as something other than the zeros at the bottom of your meager paycheck?

Your self-exile had no room for others, yet somehow, this foul-mouthed stranger had barged his way in and given you a moment that you couldn’t price. A moment that neither loan sharks nor the bank could ever steal. A moment of your youth.

The thick fingers of a calloused hand came to tap at your knee softly, making you wonder whether you’d missed something during your short period of contemplation.

“When’s the interview?” Toji asked.

“Uhm.” You rolled your sleeve to check your watch. “Ten minutes? There’s still time; the place’s right around the corner.”

“Somethin’ tells me getting your ass over there will take longer than that.” Suddenly, the hand that was on your leg hovered above your head, prompting you to grab it as Toji towered over you. “Let’s go.”

“You coming with?”

“You think I’d rather sit down here like some bridge troll that reels in defenseless damsels in distress?”

You were tempted to answer “yes” to see his reaction, but he resumed talking before you could utter a word. “Won’t say it again. Let’s go.”

And with that, you followed Toji to the other end of the bridge, where the stairs you previously failed to locate mocked you with every little squeak your heels produced, until you stood back at the top of civilization, finding it, unsurprisingly, the same as you’d left it. Thoroughly white and eerily quiet.

Just as you thought your ways would part, Toji took your hand in his rather forcefully and picked up a steady gait that you were made to keep up with, your shoes leaving deep imprints in the snow.

He held your hand all the way to the diner, and although you were truly curious as to why he did that, you didn’t dare ask. You walked side by side in silence, occasional fleeting gazes catching his warm breath clashing with the cold. It was then that you realized how warm his palm felt, despite it being all bare. Warm, strong, and certain. So this is what holding a guy’s hand feels like, you giddily mused.

By the time you reached the front door, you were more reluctant to let go than you’d been to grab his hand, thinking that this was the first and last time the two of you were saying goodbye. Sweat made your fingers slippery. You were anxious. You slid your mittens off your fingers and, on a whim, pressed them tight against his palms, making him the recipient of the first gift you’d ever given. He shot the pink-colored wool a funny look —maybe because the prospect of him accepting such a girly-looking accessory puzzled him— and then lingered for a moment or two before he turned around and waved at you over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” You asked when the distance between you began to increase.

“You won’t need it,” you heard him say. “The soup will do.”

And with those final words exchanged, you traded the frigid cold for the diner’s artificial heat and the presence of a prospective friend for that of your boss-to-be.

Just like Toji predicted, you didn’t need luck, and you didn’t need that lukewarm soup either. The man hired you almost as fast as he saw you, sternly announcing that you start come Monday. You thanked him from the bottom of your heart and ran back outside, searching through the various white-painted buildings for that stubborn hint of black you’d not too long ago parted with— which you quickly spotted a couple of alleyways ahead.

“I got the job! You hear me, Toji?” You yelled in utter glee, sensibility alone keeping you from springing upward like a jack-in-the-box. “I’m not a fuck-up anymore; I got it! I got the job!”

You weren’t even sure whether that shadow really belonged to him and whether he’d actually made sense of all your frantic cries, but maybe if you’d hushed a little, then you could have heard a distant voice chiming, “I knew you would.”

It was the 27th of December when we first met, but it was on the 29th that I fell in love with you— the scruffy boy with the snow-laced hair and emptied pockets who ordered the cheapest fries off the menu as my company’s fee.

You had your answer locked and loaded— a trigger waiting to be pulled. A clear shot. One bullet was all it’d take to end it. One word, and the farce you called friendship would fizzle right then and there. A sadistic impulse uncoiled deep within your stomach, hitching up your throat like a vile serpent of temptation spurring your chaste tongue to commit the greatest sin imaginable.

I hate being your friend. I don’t want to do this anymore. Do you have any idea how hard it is?

All synonyms for the same emotion. A gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, and above all, self-destructive unrequited love that made your heart clench at the mere sight of him, pound at the sound of his voice, and hammer at the ghost of his touch. If you could reach deep within your chest and cut that useless thing off the strings that held it in its cavity, you certainly would. You’d hand it over to him and gladly watch him stomp on it with the biggest smile contorting the final expression on your face. You wanted to rid yourself of this pointless emotion, but you knew very well that to destroy yourself meant to destroy him.

The 18-year-old Toji that held your hand on a cold winter’s day as if it were the most precious thing to him. The 20-year-old Toji that came along to meet the sister and nephew you didn’t know you had. The 22-year-old Toji that said he was proud of you when you paid off your parents’ house’s mortgage. The 24-year-old Toji that came to your graduation from state college with blood-stained lilies in his hand, again letting slip how proud he was. The 26-year-old Toji that didn’t hesitate to knock the teeth right out of a handsy prick’s jaw, spending his first and last night in a holding cell. The Toji from the last ten years of your life that never strayed too far away from your sight and always managed to return in time for lunch.

Standing in front of the 28-year-old Toji, you felt more apologetic than ever, wishing that you wouldn’t have let your love for him fester into something so selfish and consuming. Because if Toji left, then you’d still have your sister and her family, but if you left, Toji would have none.

And that was why you could never tell him what that day meant. It was impossible to speak of it with any less fondness than the one depicted in your memories, and as dense as Toji could be at times, he was no idiot. So rather than giving him the answer he thought himself to seek, you retracted your hand and took a step back, forcing the meekest smile your guilty conscience could muster.

“How about an offer you’d never refuse?”

tags: @absoluteindulgence