#JUST TAKE SOME TIME MORE TO POLISH THE FUCKING GAME

[mandalorianfleshenjoyer]

I love Jedi Survivor (lie) I love how smooth the game is (lie) there are no glitches (lie) and it never freezes during cutscenes which causes me to shut the whole game down (lie) and I can play it without issue (lie)

[homunculus-argument]

I may be swinging a fruit bat in a room full of hornet's nests here, but do americans know that most of the world doesn't look the way the US does? Like, specifically concerning ethnic diversity.

Coming from Europe, the fist time I went to the US, I was shocked by it, not in a negative way but in the same "wow, that's a real thing?" sort of way as western people finding out that there actually are that kind of pillar mountains in China, or americans who had never seen Fjord Horses in anything but the movie Frozen finding out that those fantastical yellow ponies are actually real.

And it wasn't some "backcountry rural hick sees Different Colour Person for the first time and dies of shock" sort of a thing. I had travelled before, and at 19 I considered myself quite worldly enough to go to a different continent I had never been on to go meet up a man from the internet, all by myself. I had been all over Europe from Iceland to St. Petersburg and from Norway to France, I have travelled. It was a slow realisation that it's turtles all the way down, that actually got me.

Being in an airport, going from one airport to another, I wasn't surprised by the sheer range of different kinds of people I saw. Airports just look like that, all over the world. Taking one flight after another, I didn't pay much attention to that, because airports just look like that. The "wait, holy shit" didn't hit me until I was already in rural Kentucky, in a fucking Wal-Mart. And if you're an american and the thought of a late teens nordic kid stepping foot into a Wal-Mart for the frist time and thinking "wow, this is actually what America looks like, all the time" makes you want to get defensive, it was by no means a negative feeling.

It was like looking into a bag of M&Ms. That's the only way I could describe it. Every single fucking person, group or family that I saw was apparently different colour and creed than the last ones who passed by. I had never seen black women with styled hair before because in Finland almost every single black woman you see is muslim and their hair is covered. I was used to the concept of large cities being more diverse, in FInland larger cities are the places where you're most likely to see people who aren't white. And I was stunned by just how colourful the population was in goddamn Beaver Dam, Kentucky.

I'm not trying to make any kind of a political point here. I'm just talking from my own experience as a Chronically Online European who has actually been abroad: City streets that look the way they do in the US are completely foreign to most people who are not american. And every time you people start complaining about why a game that's set in Poland, made by polish creators who have never been outside of Poland, only has polish people in it, they genuinely do not know what the hell you're talking about.

[ammoniteblue]

college rival! kenji sato who’s trying to break the stereotype that student athletes can’t be smart. his dad is a genius for fucks sake. so he takes the hardest classes. computer science. applied physics. chemistry. its hard. super hard and most days he falls asleep after practice still sticky and sweaty, with a book on his face. but he does it. and slowly people begin to recognise the freshman who waltzes into the library’s bio-chem section with a baseball mitt and jersey. it’s how you begin to notice him anyways. and then you realise the new starter for the college baseball team might actually give you some trouble.

college rival! kenji sato who starts to put his hand up to answer questions. at first it was just one or two, but soon he’s sticking his hand up for every. single. one. questions you would usually answer. he’s almost never wrong but when he is you make sure to be the one to correct him. it quickly becomes a competition. in lectures. in classes. the other students start to notice, and word of the budding rivalry between the quiet scholarship student and freshman star of the baseball team spreads.

college rival! kenji sato who refuses to leave the library till you do. he’ll sit at a table, books spread out, laptop open, taking notes and making flash cards, until his vision blurs and his fingers cramp. but he won’t be the first to go. absolutely not. it won’t be till the last person has left that the librarian will scuttle round to tell you both to get lost. as you both leave you make a point to ignore each other, but he can feel you shooting daggers at his back.

college rival! kenji sato who nearly crushes his water bottle when he reads your article in the school newspaper. he’s surprised to see you write for the sports column and even more surprised to see you’ve named him. till he reads the flurry of insults and unflattering idioms. “more ego than man”, “bad team player”, “distracted”. of course he’s distracted ! you’ve been on his mind for weeks. constantly making jabs at him in class, sprinting to answer your professors questions first in lectures. he’s not been able to eat, to sleep, not without thinking about your stupid fucking smirk as you try to remind him that he, a college athlete, belongs at the bottom of the academia totem pole.

college rival! kenji sato who tries to ignore you when you turn up at one of his games. he doesn’t understand why you’re there, till he sees your friends join you. It’s weird he thinks, when you’re with them laughing and smiling you don’t actually look that bad. but then your eyes find his and that laughter, that warmth, is gone and kenji remembers that nope you are an insufferable bitch.

college rival! kenji sato who finds himself at the same stupid house party as you. he’s with a few of his teammates, it’s after the game. they won. they’re celebrating. most of them are red-faced, drooling drunk. he’s nursing a beer, can in hand, when he spots you from across the room. you’re leaning against the wall in what looks like a casual manner, till kenji takes a closer look. then he sees the guy, some dude from you shared AP physics class. Paul or Pete ?? Kenji doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. not when he sees the guy lean down to kiss you, just for you to try and push him away. He’s by your side before he has time to register what he’s doing.

college rival! kenji sato who not only knocks a guy out for his class rival, but bails on a night out. he offers to take you home and doesn’t say a word when he gives you his letterman jacket, after noticing you shivering. it’s warm and smells of polish and freshly cut grass. neither of you say a word, which is what makes it even more bizarre when you lean up to kiss him. you’re nowhere near your dorm, outside some random humanities building, but you can’t help it. for weeks you’ve been puzzling over why he bugs you so much, why his constant presence in classes and lectures, in your favourite study spots, sends your heart into a flurry. sometimes anger and attraction can feel very similar.

college rival! kenji sato who finds himself in your dorm room, your roommate nowhere to be found. He lets you push him back onto the bed, lets you be the one to tug his shirt off. it’s been weeks of constant battling for control and yet here he is giving up so easily. Kenji gives you the victory you’ve been looking for just to see the smile on your face.

college athlete kenji = late night brainrot. if you enjoyed lemme know if i should do a part 2. Next part of Not a hero, Just an Author will be up soon <333

[bi-writes]

more little thoughts about curvy!sunshine!fem!reader and dark!simon (18+)

thinking about being so indifferent to his violence because it has never been directed at you. you had a bad night at the pub--an asshole tried to grab your ass in the brand new white dress you bought, with a puffy little mini skirt, and you had wanted to wear it out and get dressed up. the man had ruined your night; you just wanted to spend it with simon, drinking and spending time together, and as soon as he had his hand up your dress, and simon saw the tears in your eyes, all he could see was red.

you're sitting on the curb outside, sniffling, tears still a little damp on your face as you lick at the cone of ice cream you're holding. you click your heels against the pavement, and you look to the side when you feel a big, warm presence take a seat next to you. his shirt looks damp and sticky, and your eyes dart down to see how his boots smear blood against the ground. you smile a little through your soft tears, reaching over and sliding your arm around his. the tension in his muscles relaxes, and you lean up and kiss his cheek gently.

"did he squirm?" you ask softly as you trace his ungloved hand, running your fingers lightly over the fresh bruises there. "i know you hate it when they cry."

"didn't 'ave time t'cry," he grumbles. he leans over, kissing your forehead through the mask, holding you close. "cut his throat out before he could even think about it. and then i took his hands, luv--" you take a lick of your ice cream before you smile up at him. "didn't deserve 'em since he's had a feel 'f ya."

he lets you paint his nails. you sit on his big thigh, holding his hand up as you smooth black polish over his nail bed. you clean his cuticles and under his fingernails, giving him a nice little manicure before practicing your nail-painting skills. all he does is sit there and grumble as he watches a football game on the telly, not really paying you any mind. when you finish, you smooth lotion over his cracked knuckles and smooth some oil over his nails until they're nice and soft. when you finish, he makes you watch him stuff those fingers into your pretty pussy. he never takes his eyes off the game, but his lips twitch into the lightest smirk as he feels you writhe and squirm beside him, laid back on the couch as you wet his freshly painted nails with cum.

he never lets you cry, not really, because he fucking hates it. if you cry, he tilts your head up towards him, shoving his mask up before dragging his pink tongue up your face and ridding the pretty planes of your cheeks of any evidence. his solution to your sadness, if that doesn't work, is to put his head between your thighs and eat.

he never says no to you. wherever you want to go, he will take you. whatever you want to buy, he will buy it for you. even if it's something you technically can't have, like the vintage purse you see as you window shop with a not for sale tag on it. or the last pair of sparkly barrettes that the woman in front of you snagged first, found at the bottom of your shopping bag the next day. or the job you applied for that you knew you wouldn't get because you bombed the interview--only to receive confirmation in the middle of the night that you got the job, telling simon monday night that your new boss got mugged only a few hours after your interview!

(the bruises on his face are gnarly--and he seems to always avoid you like the plague.)

you break all his supposed boundaries in front of other people, but what they don't understand is that he has boundaries with everyone except for you. when you visit him on base, everyone tenses when you run into the rec room looking for him, slipping into the chair he sits in and taking your place on his lap. but ghost doesn't flinch as he does if others touch him. no, he just places his hand on your back to steady you. when you're out at the pub with his teammates, they stare wide-eyed as you cup his masked cheeks and kiss him all over his face--his eyes, his nose, his cheeks--but all ghost does is pat your ass soothingly and stroke along your hair gently. he stands out in crowds, so imposing and large and broad, and he ignores the stares when a pretty girl bounces into his orbit, taking his hand and pulling him along because simon, i saw this dress, but i need your help getting the zipper up--

there just isn't anyone like you. ghost feels dead, on the inside. he doesn't feel right. he knows something is so wrong inside of him. he wants to eat your glow. it's what he has loved about you since he met you. the unconditional devotion, the big heart you give him, the wet look in your eyes when he does anything for you, even when it includes the bloody stuff. even if he does the wrong thing, even if he kills the wrong man, and you know he is overreacting, you are never mad, never angry. you just kiss his scars and coo in his ear, "it's okay, you didn't know any better, you were just doing it for me, weren't you, baby?"

you give him the validation that he needs to be violent. you tell him it's okay. you aren't afraid of all the gore, of the terrible things he does, of all the things he rights with wrongs. he is quick to anger, and he finds it easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all you do is bat your lashes and open your legs and tell him it's okay, simon--it's okay, come here, i miss you.

you suffocate the things that scream in his ears. when it's too loud, you push him to lay down, climb up over him, put your thighs around his head and quiet the noise. you sit your pretty pussy on his mouth, and you ride his face, smoothing a hand over the balaclava that he is too busy to take off. you used to be afraid of being too heavy, of making it hard to breathe for him, but simon is a big boy, and maybe he wants to die, because you taste so sweet, and he always chubs up so easily with his hands digging into your hips and his tongue deep inside of you.

it aches, everything hurts, the world is too loud, but it isn't like this in your flat. it's just right. it's normal. it's safe. simon can be himself, and so can you, and when he is too brooding and terrifying, he looks at you, because if you're still smiling, he isn't too much of anything. and when you think you're talking too fast, when you are second-guessing the dress you want to wear, you look at him, because if he is there, nothing will ever be wrong, and no one can ever hurt you.

simon isn't a good person. you know that. he's quick to the knife. he likes to bite. he commits war crimes, and then he comes home, and no one asks him to explain himself, and no one tells him to stop what he's doing, and when he does it over and over again, all he gets is validation, medals for a job well done, and maybe you're an instigator, too, because you let him fuck you in every position whenever he comes home, a reward for bringing death to whoever was stupid enough to end up at the wrong end of his rifle.

but it's really, really hard to care. as soon as he steps through the door, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor, all of your doubts disappear. all you can do is stare at him in all his gear, swallow the drool that threatens to spill, smile--welcome home, teddy bear!

he is a bear. but you've never been on the receiving end of what scares people. if someone were to ask you what to do, you don't think you'd know what to tell them. you wonder what it is you would tell them if they begged for your help.

run away? or play dead?

[gutsby]

Playing Dangerous

Pairing: Detective Dixon x Reader

Summary: Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Warnings: NSFW. Thigh riding. Brat taming. Daddy kink. Dubcon elements vis-à-vis power imbalance and forceful facefucking, plus some dark-ish dirty talk, face slapping, overstimulation where Daryl keeps making you cum after you say that you’re finished (all meant to be consensual).

Notes: Big big thank you to @dilfsandmartinis for this filthy lil idea!! 🫣🩷 Requests are always welcome :-)

Shitty was an understatement.

This was a full-blown, top-notch terror of an evening, rivaled only in its sheer lethality by the time you once broke your nose and got arrested twice in the same day.

Tonight was likely to be a close second, though.

You’d spent all of ten minutes in the center of that hot and sweaty club, fighting madly not to drop your drinks or lose your purse, when suddenly, simultaneously, it seemed every guy around you had lost the power of self-control. You were prodded and groped like a shiny slab of meat ripe for any man’s hands—and no matter how hard you elbowed each offender, you couldn’t find reprieve. You were constantly being grabbed.

You’d grumbled as much to your friends, and they’d told you to ‘lighten up’ and ‘not be so surprised when you were wearing something like that.’

Something like what? A super mini skirt and a bustier?

You promptly informed each member of your party they could kiss your ass, and left.

That had been almost half an hour ago, and you were still currently stuck outside the club waiting for a lift. In the snow. With no jacket, or adequate covering.

Every time a taxi passed, you’d wobble over to the street corner and wave your hand, but on each endeavor, without fail, its driver would shoot you a dirty look and speed right off. Like you had, ‘I’M GONNA ROB YOU’ written on your forehead or else smelled of rotting flesh.

You were mystified, distraught, and supremely pissed off. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong.

The second you saw a semi-reputable looking Dodge Charger pull up to the curb, you decided you’d had enough. Uber or not, you needed a fucking ride.

You stalked over to the vehicle, already seeing its passenger side window creeping down on your approach. Your arms were quick to fold over your chest as you bent down and scowled,

“Could you please take me home?”

The man you saw inside looked polished. Well-groomed.

You hardly had more than a second or two to inspect his appearance, though, because in an instant, he was leaning over the center console to shoot you a smile.

“How much, hon?”

You heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, someone was taking you seriously.

You reached for the door handle and tumbled right in.

“Any price, just name it,” you groaned. You rubbed your face with both hands and leaned back in the seat. Almost unable to believe your stroke of good fortune after so many failed attempts, you let out a shaky, but grateful, breath and spread your legs just a little to get comfy.

“Good,” the man to your left said, calmly, evenly...then, “Now put your hands where I can see them.”

You lowered your hands from your face and gave the stranger a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Hands, show me hands,” he said, voice raising ever slightly in volume.

What the fuck was he on? Staring you down with that stupid, self-righteous face, lip curled in a melodramatic snarl like he could’ve been one of those lousy fuckin’—

“Police,” he barked. Louder, this time. Flashing a badge before your panic-stricken eyes and clenching his jaw.

Your hands flew up instinctively.

Was it illegal to hail a cab now?!

You didn’t have time to think, or blink, or do much else besides breathe when the well-dressed man got out of the car and instructed you to do the same. Your hands and feet seemed to move of their own accord as you gingerly slipped out from the front seat of the car to the cold wintry night outside. You were pushed to your knees on the concrete sidewalk and made to kneel.

To your right, you saw a gaggle of college kids strolling by—some pointing, others laughing, but all watching in muted awe as the undercover cop circled to your back.

“You have the right to remain silent—” he started, reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

“Excuse me?!” you hissed.

“—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—” he continued. A couple gentle clinks and suddenly your wrists were in chains.

“What’d I do? What the fuck did I do?”

“You have a right to an attorney,” he droned on, heedless of your cries as he read your Miranda rights, “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes as both cuffs locked into place and you were being hauled back onto your feet, sniveling and sobbing before throngs of amused onlookers. Your face burned with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know it was a crime, officer— I didn’t know, I swear— I-I-I’m so fucking drunk!” you blubbered as he guided you swiftly to the rear of his car. You practically bawled when he opened the back door.

“I just really needed a taxi!” you wailed, legs shaking as he started to lower you into the vehicle.

At that, he stopped.

He tugged you back on your feet and spun you around.

“A what?” he asked.

“A taxi,” you cried, “All the other drivers kept— kept driving away, I thought, I-I don’t know, I thought you might be another Uber driver or something.”

The man’s expression betrayed a change, though you couldn’t decipher just what that was through your tears. You sniffled and tried to wipe your cheek with your shoulder but ended up smearing more makeup in your line of sight. You whimpered at a pathetic pitch.

“Taxi,” the police officer repeated, seeming to mull over the word in his mind like it was the latest addition to the English language. He frowned.

Through your tear-streaked vision, you could just then detect the faintest trace of affliction…even remorse? His eyes wavered between your face, your ensemble, and the ground below, making a couple quick circuits before finally settling on your wet, bleary gaze.

His voice sounded strained to you now.

“You weren’t…trying to have sex with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You coughed, blinked, looked the man up and down and hardly knew to even shake your head with how blind-sided you felt.

“W-What? What?”

“You’re not…a prostitute?” the man said, almost pained.

That query threw you for a loop just the same. You pressed your weight on the car and sensed a strange unsteadinesses seize your limbs. This undercover cop thought you were a hooker—and a cheap one at that, game for any price the man was offering—and presently, you felt queasy. You looked down at your outfit.

It surely wasn’t that revealing, was it? He couldn’t have been so easily convinced of your profession by a...pair of glossy go-go boots, latex skirt, and lacy top, right?

Okay, you looked a little bit like a hooker.

Worse yet, you noticed a wad of cash stuffed between your left tit and armpit, from the time you tried to bribe the bouncer for a ride while leaving the bar. A loose cigarette stuck behind your ear, two hickeys suckled into the skin of your neck, and a teensy bag of blow to boot, tucked haphazardly between an assortment of Trojans and Magnums strewn lazily throughout your purse.

Alright, you could’ve been cast in the next Pretty Woman remake, but who cares? Half the girls in the club were dressed just as scantily, if not more so.

You somehow mustered the strength to squeeze your hands into frozen little fists behind your back and gave the officer a brazen look.

“Think I don’t have anyone better to fuck?” you scoffed.

The detective’s expression went from inscrutable to uncomfortable in fewer than two seconds. He seemed hardly able to look you in the eye any longer, casting sidelong stares at the crowd growing larger on the sidewalk. Collective curiosity piqued at the sight of a cop and a would-be streetwalker making small talk outside of the club, he knew he had to get out of this. Quick.

“I’ll, uh, take ya home, ma’am,” he said under his breath.

Before you could either accept or reject his offer, he had your cuffs undone—discreetly—and your body shuffled hastily inside his car. You heard the door slam shut and saw the officer make quick strides toward the driver’s side. You raised both brows as soon as he re-entered.

“That’s it?” you quipped.

“What?” he returned as he started the engine.

“You make that hot-shot unlawful arrest in front of all those people, and you’re not even gonna say sorry?”

The man made every effort not to shoot you a look in the rearview mirror. Slowly, he pulled into the street.

“Well...y’know, you do look the part. But I’m sorry.” Proffering one of the most pitiful apologies you’d heard in your life, the detective fixed his gaze on the road.

You knew he was bluffing. The man was humiliated as shit, too coy to come clean with the fact that he’d just made an egregious error, and now offering you a ride all to make himself out to be the good guy—and quite possibly avoid a wrongful arrest lawsuit.

Maybe it was the residual amounts of alcohol still coursing through your veins or else the cocaine, but you couldn’t let the dipshit get off that easy. You scrambled your way up to the front of the car.

It was at that moment Detective Dixon sincerely wished he’d driven the squad car—complete with a cage, of sorts, to keep inmates locked away in the back seat—rather than his unmarked vehicle, to be making arrests that night. He stifled a groan when you plopped down in the passenger seat next to him.

“What do you mean, ‘looked the part,’ hm?” you quizzed, burning a hole through the side of his head with how intently you were watching him.

“Put yer seatbelt on,” the man rolled his eyes, attention never straying from the long line of cars ahead of him, “And where do you live?”

“Over on ‘Fuck 12’ Avenue, Officer...Dixon?” you answered sarcastically, scanning his chest for a nametag.

“Detective,” he corrected, “Friends call me Daryl.”

“Detective Dixon, I am not your friend.” You smirked, and for the first time, you thought your discomfited front-seat companion might be tempted to crack one too. You watched him fight his base instincts, however, and force a frown instead. Still not tearing his gaze from the road, he reached over, blindly, for your seatbelt.

“C’mon now, buckle up,” he urged, echoing the words of a concerned father but somehow making it sound far more sexy when he said it. You swallowed a giggle and swatted his hand away.

“Detective!” you feigned an offended gasp.

“Ah, hush up, will ya?” Daryl muttered as his broad, veiny hand continued fumbling for the seatbelt, “You know it’s against the law to— shit!”

The two of you simultaneously leapt in your seats with near-identical sounds of...shock. You, feeling his fingers accidentally graze that tender spot between your legs and him, in turn, finding it unclothed. And soaked.

Detective Dixon retracted his hand just as fast as he’d sunk it in place, only holding it up in the air for an instant—but that was all either of you needed to see that his digits were glistening. You clamped your legs tight together and sucked in a breath.

Under any normal set of circumstances, you would’ve been much more in tune with the way your body was reacting to external stimuli. With all the commotion of your almost-arrest and the subsequent desire to exact revenge on the undercover detective, you hadn’t even realized how physically aroused you were.

Still reeling from his touch, you sank back in your seat. Suddenly more conscious of your bodily fluids than ever before, and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” Daryl blurted out in a hurry. Gripping the steering wheel and pretending not to notice the slight wet slip of his right hand.

You couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t dare to venture a look to see if you might.

Now this would make for one hell of a career-ending lawsuit, Detective Dixon thought with a grimace. Wrongful arrest, soliciting sex on the clock, making unwanted advances on a woman who was technically, in a sense, being detained in his car while he—

Jumped, again, the second he felt your hand on his own.

You were pulling his arm over to your side of the car.

When Daryl turned his head, he paled the instant he saw you bring his hand to your mouth. Watched you pucker your lips and move them over his still-damp fingertips. Then suck them inside your mouth, three at a time.

He nearly swerved off the road and took out six civilians.

“Eyes...on the road, detective,” you murmured quietly, words garbled by the obstruction of his fingers.

Daryl swallowed thickly, and then, reluctantly, turned his attention to the street. He didn’t see much of what was in front of him.

“13 Peachtree Place.” You plucked his fingers out of your mouth just long enough to tell him your address. Then you went right back to suckling down the skin, letting your tongue glide gently over the tender, slick digits.

Daryl stifled a groan. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Guided by the faintest idea of where your neighborhood was located, he pulled off onto a side road and tried hard not to let out a sound when you sucked his three fingers to the back of your mouth—and felt your throat seize just a little at the sudden intrusion.

You pulled him out of your mouth with a wet pop and started over his lap.

You, yourself, were hardly more aware of what you were doing than why you were doing it, a slave to your sensory impulses and a sucker for a man in brown slacks. You crawled across the lap of the plainclothes officer who’d accused you of ‘selling yourself’ just minutes ago, only to show him what you were happy to do, free of charge.

It wasn’t your most gloriously feminist moment, to be sure, but then again, when were you going to get another chance to fuck the police and get off scot-free like this?

You palmed Detective Dixon through his pants and smiled when he whined just a little.

“Bet you wish I was selling, huh? Wish I was some pretty little thing for you to use at your convenience?” you purred, stroking over him gently.

Daryl gritted his teeth but said nothing in return. He brought the car to a stop under a red light.

You didn’t like the quiet types. You squeezed him harder in your hand, felt his erection grow even larger between your fingers, and moved up to press a kiss on his neck, tasting tiny beads of sweat there.

“How badly did you wish I was a whore, detective?”

When you leaned in for another couple light kisses, you were startled to feel a hand at your own throat, jerking your face up to his.

“Already knew you were the second I saw you.” he returned, deadpan, before your wide and unsuspecting eyes.

When the light turned green, he released your neck and reached for the back of your head. You let out a muffled whimper as he shoved you down against his crotch, stiff as a rock underneath your cheek.

“Why? Does a whore wanna suck it?” he asked, pressing his foot on the gas.

At a moment’s notice, you were robbed of your slight dominant edge and made to grovel under his touch like a bitch in heat. Daryl rubbed your plush lips over the mound in his pants like he was proud to make you feel it. And you, yielding as ever, made no attempt to keep from being manhandled because, if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you wanted it that way. You smiled against the cotton blend of his trousers and made a soft moan along the fabric, letting him drag you by the hair any way that he pleased.

When he yanked your head up and the car came to another stop, you weren’t surprised in the least by the trail of saliva that followed your lips. You locked eyes with his steel blue set and grinned again, quite stupidly.

“Well?” Daryl pressed, giving your hair a sharp tug.

You thought the sight of your watering mouth and blissed-out expression would have sufficed for an answer, but clearly, he wanted more. You worked gracelessly over the belt buckle and zip beneath your chin, and had his cock freed in seconds.

The car sped up again. Detective Dixon’s grip tightened on your scalp.

The second your lips latched onto the head of his dick, you knew you’d be in for a bumpy ride. He hissed as soon as the warmth of your mouth enveloped him, gripped the wheel like a vice, and made sure to spare your throat no expense the second he came to a sloppy halt.

Either your car was in bumper-to-bumper traffic, or the man couldn’t drive for shit while getting road head. You’d put a large sum of cash on the latter if you had it.

Regardless, you bobbed your head up and down and tried your best to suppress the urge to gag when you could. It was tough work, flattening your tongue down his length, gripping his cock at the base, sucking hard until your cheeks hollowed out, and then bump went the whole fucking car, and suddenly your throat was forced to take four more inches in the span of a second.

You lifted your head to protest but were swiftly met with a firm hand holding it down. Keeping it down.

“You’re done sucking this cock when I say you’re done,” Daryl informed you sternly, sucking a breath through his teeth when you gagged around him once more.

He pulled you off just long enough to breathe—and answer a question.

“You live over by McGinty’s? Or MacManus’?”

“McVeigh’s,” you supplied in a shaky voice. No one ever got the Irish pubs around you right.

Daryl hummed and shoved you right back onto his dick, pretending to take no notice of the way you gripped his thigh or tried to groan, ‘Fucker’ against his shaft. Your oral cavity was presently flooded with cock, pre-cum, and saliva, and the longer you sucked, the harsher he got to pushing your head up and down. Your eyes stung with tears.

“In through yer nose, darlin’, almost there,” he hummed, smug as ever. Whether he meant you were close to your house or he was about to cum down your throat, you couldn’t be sure. Your mouth slipped and squelched gently over the man’s throbbing member and made tiny whimpers when you felt you might climax any minute.

In a clandestine act, you moved one hand down your body while you continued blowing Daryl’s brains out. You were half-cockdrunk and hardly more sentient than a sex doll, it seemed, but you could’ve sworn you were quite discreet about the endeavor between your legs. You had just grazed the slick wet seam of your slit, about to press two fingers to your clit, when a hand jerked at a clump of your hair. Hard.

As soon as your mouth was disconnected from his shaft, Daryl landed a tart slap on your cheek.

“My baby need something?” he said, almost tauntingly.

You blinked up at him, failing to understand, until he reached down and pried your hand away from your heat.

“If tha’ wet, greedy cunt needs sum’n, ya better tell me.”

You were amazed how deftly he appeared to maneuver the car now, just pinching your face between forefinger and thumb as he veered down winding streets. When you paused a second or two to answer, you were punished with another slap.

“Just wanted a touch,” you whined, trying to rub the cheek that was stinging and finding yourself outmatched by Daryl’s grip. He squeezed you even tighter.

“Then you say that next time. With your big girl words,” Detective Dixon grunted, bringing the car to a sudden halt and hauling you into his arms.

You looked small splayed across his lap. Perhaps even tinier just straddling one leg, as you were, body writhing beneath his touch and moans and whimpers bubbling up your throat one at a time.

When you looked around, you realized you were home.

Part of you wanted to bolt, for a second. Go sprinting up the lawn toward the safety of your home and jump straight under the covers, a place where you would be free to touch yourself as you pleased—no smug homicide detective breathing down your throat.

But, as you straddled his wide, beefy thigh and felt one gentle pulse of the muscle underneath, you knew you were done for. He saw just as clearly as you that your body was in need of release. Not from your fingers, not from his tongue, perhaps not even from the fat, throbbing cock that had been fucking your mouth the whole way home.

In this moment, all you needed was for him to bounce you on his thigh, let you ride, and make you cum.

Your expression must have looked exceptionally pathetic when you tried stirring your hips and felt two hands stop you cold in your tracks.

“What did daddy just say about big girl words, hm?” Daryl’s voice took on a tender lilt so unlike anything he’d said or done before that you almost didn’t hear the word ‘daddy,’ or think it strange at all. It seemed so natural playing off of his tongue.

“I need you, daddy,” you whimpered.

To say you were putty in his hands was still something short of the truth. You were damn near liquified underneath his touch, half-limp and wholly yearning as the man steadied you in place and began his delicate ministrations like you’d never experienced before.

The once callous, largely cruel law enforcement figure took on something of a gentle affect as he ran his hands up and down your body and let you ease yourself into his touch. There were kisses, caresses, and all sorts of soft little touches on your skin that made you feel pampered and prized, even precious in his eyes. Was this really the same man whose cock had been choking you to the point of tears just minutes ago?

Daryl hiked your skirt up your hips until the sight of your bare, needy cunt was all he could see. Still, he stayed cool and trained his eyes up to yours.

“How’s that feel, honey?”

Even as still as a stone, you felt sparks of hot energy fly up from your center. Remembering your big girl words, you replied, ‘So good, daddy, I just need some more.’

Daryl seemed happy to oblige his good little girl and made sure to shift his knee a little to the right. At the slightest bit of friction, you moaned.

“Oh, daddy,” you whined, leaning in to that praise-heavy dynamic Daryl seemed keen to play out. When he bounced his foot once or twice, shaking your whole body as he did, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbed hold of his thigh. Even rolled your hips right back to his movements.

As light, tender sounds tumbled past your lips with increasing frequency, so too did Daryl’s mouth impart more gentle kisses and dirtier words for your ears to hear:

“Such a pretty little thing, ridin’ daddy’s thigh like tha’.”

“Grindin’ tha’ needy wet pussy all over my leg.”

“Gonna make a mess fer daddy? Show me how much my sweet girl’s been needin’ a good fuck?”

You loved every last filthy syllable. You braced hard against his leg and rutted up and down, in circles all around until you thought you could’ve soaked his whole pant leg. Meanwhile, he was bouncing his thigh, stroking your sides, and making sure you were never wanting for affection or praise as a soft swell of pleasure came dimly into view.

When he flattened one palm across your tummy and told you to lean back, you knew the end wasn’t far from sight.

Daryl took hold of your hips and made an even quicker cadence with his leg, bouncing you fast and hard and hopelessly tight against his thigh as he drank in every one of your moans coming out.

You pressed one hand to the window—long since fogged up and opaque with the hot breaths you were panting—and placed the other on Daryl’s shoulder.

You could tell by the glint in his eye and the grin on his face that he loved you like this. Spread out and desperate for release as you rocked your hips a vicious course over him, using his body for leverage as you fucked his leg for all it was worth.

“Tha’s my girl,” Daryl beamed, practically scintillating with joy.

He watched you rut your hips again and again in the most obscene sort of fashion, riding his thigh with a moan never far from your lips. You squeezed his shoulder.

“Daddy, I—” you started, only to swallow your words with a whimper the second Daryl started bouncing his foot even faster.

“Daddy what?” he teased, pretending not to notice the elevated pitch to your whines.

“Fuck— you know what!” you cried.

“Nah, pretty baby, I ain’t got the slightest clue,” Detective Dixon was exuberant now, grinning from ear to ear as the pleasure visibly mounted inside of you, “Fuck my leg a little harder and tell me how it feels.”

You did. He helped. Even gripped your hips and moved them for you, keeping that breakneck pace as you moaned and writhed and sank your nails into his shoulder as the feelings just got to be too much.

With one last strangled cry, you came all over his thigh.

And, whether that climax lasted two seconds or two hours, the man beneath you didn’t really care—he kept bouncing his leg as you finished, and long after you had, as well.

You seized both of his shoulders this time as you tried to slow his movements. He made no such effort to oblige, only flashing a smile and nodding his big, dumb head as he said:

“I want one more.”

What? No fucking way, you thought, communicating as much through your frantic eyes and the shake of your head. Daryl kept right on moving his leg and holding you firm to that mile-wide wet spot on his thigh, which only grew larger and larger the longer you rode him.

As a bizarre, unfamiliar feeling sank to the pit of your stomach and twisted, you weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or cum all over again—luckily, your body decided for you and graced you with yet another orgasm. You gritted your teeth and tried not to scream as a wild wave of a new sensation washed over your senses…

And Daryl kept bouncing that fucking knee.

Mind-numbing waves of ecstasy came crashing closer and closer than ever before, and frankly, you couldn’t quite tell how, or when, you’d ever cum again until you did it, you felt it: walls clenching back and forth while your vision blurred with pleasure. A sound wavering somewhere between a scream and a plea—Daryl, keep that goddamn knee to yourself, for fuck’s sake!—tore out of your chest and prompted you to sink all ten nails into flesh that told your sly detective it was time to stop.

Your whole frame was shaking by the time his foot came to rest. If you hadn’t been so fucked-out and sensitive, you just might’ve jumped out of the car the second it did.

But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, let your vision return apace, and didn’t let your eyes stray an inch from Daryl’s smug face while your third orgasm subsided.

Fighting every urge to giggle when he squeezed your ass and begged for another.

“Fourth one’s gonna cost ya, asshole.”

“Oh yeah?” Daryl said, grinning, “What’s your price?”

[catskets]

A more in-depth guide for creating visual novels, especially in the horror, horror-romance, etc circles

Some of you have seen my previous, smaller post on crafting visual novels, especially in this little space of Tumblr that a lot of us have found themselves in. Since that post took off, I've wanted to create a longer guide to help touch on some points I've thought about for the past few months.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel.

Please note that my advice does not fit everyone, and you may disagree with what I say. That's okay! It doesn't work for all. That's why there's thousands of resources out there.

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE NEVER MADE A GAME

So, you have an idea for a huge visual novel. Horror, a shady and obsessive love interest, a little bit of woo-hooing. 100k words. Maybe a million. What is this, the 07th Expansion?

I notice a lot of people getting into visual novels are artists first. That's okay! I wanted to do art for games before I realized how much I enjoyed writing. And even less of you have probably touched Visual Studio. Again, perfectly okay. We all start somewhere.

My number one piece of advice? Make shitty games.

What does that mean?! My recommendation to those who have never done games is to make a bunch of shitty ones. Think of a theme, or hell, even join a game jam, where you make a game that fits a theme in a short amount of time. Spend about a week on your game. Focus on making something polished. Polish your mechanics. Polish your output.

I recommend, if you can, to make at least 4-6, if not more, kind of shitty games before hopping into longer projects. Making a game is a skill, just like art, just like writing. And game development is combining ALL of these together into one big soup being stirred by a skeleton hand puppet. You'll get into the rhythm and see what works for you.

It also helps you learn, perhaps, the second most important thing here: do you even like making games? There are cases out there where people have created video games (not saying visual novels) just for clout. That's no fun for you, that's no fun for your players. And you might go through this process and find that you don't like making games. That's completely okay! It's not for everyone.

Also, you can use these shittier games to gather an audience. I've built my audience because, for the past few years, I've been releasing games that slowly give me growing fields of eyes every day. A success story overnight is a rare one. It takes time. It's like building a brand, but you aren't a brand, you're an artist.

REV UP YOUR ENGINES!

Ren'py is the number one engine you will be recommended. It is very beginner-friendly, with lots of tutorials, assets on itch.io to use and download, and support. The engine comes with a few tutorials in the form of games, whose code you can freely browse. This is the engine I use most often. Most visual novels you see are made in this engine.

Twine is a text-based engine that most people use for interactive fiction. You can add images and audio, though, if you don't mind messing with HTML. I use Twine for text games and for outlining for my larger games. Ever played Degrees of Lewdity? Yeah, I know you have. Don't ask why. That game was made in Twine.

RPG Maker has multiple versions and has been used for exclusively VNs if you don't mind fucking around with plugins. It can definitely give your game a super unique feel. I recommend RPG Maker MV, since it has the most resources. This line of engines usually costs money, but it often goes on sale for under $5-$15.

People will recommend TyranoBuilder, but as a user and player, the lack of options and the format the games often come in is just...not fun to navigate. It advertises itself as little to no code, but it's often evident in the final results. Some good games have been made in it, though, so if you want to use it for prototyping/practice, you can. I'm not a fan, but that doesn't mean that fans don't exist! This engine costs money.

Not an engine, but check out Ink! Super useful scripting language that's used for more professional projects.

DEMOS, DEMOS, DEMOS

You've got an idea for a long-term project, and now you want to show it to the world! But wait, wait, don't do that yet!

When should I start advertising my game? This is a personal opinion, but I say that you should not start advertising your game until 50-60% of your demo is complete. Why? As I've discussed with some fans of indie VNs, they can name quite a few projects that have been in the "working on the demo" age for 1-2+ years. I've been in the Kickstarter MMO circles. If you, making a single-player experience with little mechanics to balance and polish (aka a visual novel), are taking that long on a demo, I am going to assume the game is not coming out. There are some games I have seen out here that have been in "working on the demo" phase where I haven't seen a single ounce of what the project will look like.

What should I put in my demo? The purpose of a demo is to showcase the mechanics and the vibes and the mechanics of your game. It's a demonstration. In my last post, I pointed to the Dead Space 2 demo that was showcased at E3 (RIP), that takes place about 2 hours into the story and shows how enemies are defeated, some animations, bits of the story, etc. Usually, because it's less about mechanics and more about vibes, visual novel demos showcase a certain percentage of the full thing (5-10%.) Can you showcase the vibe of the game here and what players should expect? If not, show off another portion.

How long should I work on my demo? Before, I said 3-4 months. That can be true, that can also not be true. Think about how long the demo takes you in proportion to how long the actual game should take you. Don't put too much effort. The demo is to showcase the vibe. It's to see how much the public and fans may enjoy the game.

My game is 18+, what should I do? Make a splash screen when the game is downloaded to let players know your game is 18+. If it's going to contain sexual content, you can hide it with itch.io's adult content filter. Write it on the page itself that your game is for adults only. Don't put your demo behind a paywall. This is genuinely ridiculous. The purpose of a demo is to showcase what a game is like before a player purchases it. That defeats the point of a demo. I've seen this happen, and it discourages players from approaching, especially because most demos never make it past the demo phase. So...I'm paying you $10 for 2-3k words of a game that may never come out?

Should I make a social media for my game? YES! Go for it. These anchors are how people will find your game. Make a Tumblr and open that ask box. Make a Twitter. Go to BluSky. Advertising is not bad. Some YouTubers even take e-mail suggestions from developers. Feel free to shoot your shot. The worst they can do is not respond.

HOW TO SET UP YOUR ITCH.IO PAGE:

Getting your itch.io to a presentable state can be very challenging! There's many ways to do it. I highly recommend using this page image guide for learning how to size your images to make your page pop!

Itch.io themselves has suggested to not publish a page until the game or demo is released. You can make the page and keep it as a draft, but do not publish it until you're ready!

Your cover image is the image that will appear in the search of the website, on any front pages, in collections, and on your profile. What have I seen that works? Key art of one of the characters up close and the title of the game! If you can make it a .GIF, do it! Bitches love .GIFs!

Itch.io recommends 3-5 screenshots on your page. I recommend 1 of these 5 be a .GIF that shows how gameplay feels. This is effective, even for visual novels!

Write a 3-5 sentence summary about your game for the description. What is your story about? What is the draw?

DO NOT BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS GOING TO SAY "This is not like other visual novels. It doesn't have that cheesy this or that or-" No one cares. Genuinely. You're putting down other games in your genre and elevating yourself to the pompous level.

TAG YOUR GAME! itch.io gives you a list of tags to choose from when you go to tag. DON'T USE THIS! Try to go for more specific tags. Arimia has a very good guide on how to use itch.io's tagging system to your advantage.

GENERAL GAME MAKING ADVICE

SCOPE KNIFE IS SUPER USEFUL! Everyone makes games that are way over their workload. It's okay to cut out features and add them later. Prioritize making a finished game before hitting those stretch goals.

PLAN, PLAN, PLAN! Writing outlines is super helpful. I use Twine for my outlines, because you can connect your passages together and make really well-thought webs.

IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP! Whether it's from friends, professionals, or anything in-between. They can help with assets, editing, etc.

HONE YOUR SKILLS OUTSIDE OF GAMES! Write some poetry. Do some sketches everyday. Improve on your craft to improve your games

MUSIC IS HARD. THERE ARE RESOURCES. Most of us aren't musicians. That's okay. Make sure the music you get for your game is allowed to be used. You can use anything non-commercial if your game will not cost money or donations. I try to do songs in the public domain or free to use overall with credit if I don't have a musician. Consult the Creative Commons website if you're unsure how you're supposed to use a certain piece of music. If you don't use the right stuff, not only can it put you in legal trouble, but it can put streamers in hot water if they play your game and they can't upload the video because music is copyrighted.

PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR UI. Wanna know an easy way to get your game to look more professional? Edit the damn UI for your game. Make a new textbox, even if it's just a black box. Change the font. Eventually, players recognize the defaults and patterns of games made in certain engines and may attribute a lack of UI changes to a developer being lazy. It doesn't take very long to change the colors around and move text! Please do it to add a little pop to your game.

DEADLINES ARE AWESOME. Not everyone works well under pressure, but if you give yourself an infinite amount of time to make something, it'll never get done. Set goals for yourself for how much you can work on something.

IF YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP, GIVE UP. Making things is hard, especially long-term. Emergencies happen, jobs happen, life happens. Let your fans know that a project isn't happening anymore. Don't leave them in the dark. You don't need to tell strangers your medical history or anything, but transparency + honesty are really hot traits. You should use those in your creative work. This is one reason why I advocate for not publishing or advertising things until you know it's stable.

SHOWCASING YOUR CONTENT

People love to see WIPs for games! This is what the devlog is good for! A devlog is a post where a developer talks about and showcases some things happening in the game? What can you add to your dev log?

PERCENTAGES! How much of the artwork is done? How much of this character's route is done?

SNEAK PEEKS AT ARTWORK AND SPRITES!

GIFS! GIRLS LOVE GIFS!

Anything else to showcase your game's content! Posting consistent updates retains and even gains a fan's attention for your work.

RUNNING YOUR TUMBLR

You've joined us, and you've made a Tumblr for your blog! Link it on the itch.io page, so people can come find you after playing your awesome demo!

Do I have to respond to every ask? No. It's your blog. Delete whatever asks you want.

I got a hate comment! What do I do? Delete it and move on. I have a more detailed section on hate below.

I want to interact with [blog]! How do I do that? Reach out to the devs for silly little collabs. If you come onto a developer slightly headstrong, they might feel you are being abrasive or using them for content.

If people make fan content, interact with it! Encourage it! Reblog it. Show your love.

OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS

PROFESSIONALISM IS KEY. These may be pet projects, but you want to appear some level of professional on your actual itch.io page.

Being dismissive of player and fan complaints or criticisms will make you appear childish.

If your game is broken, fix it. I have been told by some amateur developers to ignore game-breaking bugs. It does not make me, a player, want to engage with your content. It seems messy and unfinished.

With the above point, it's 100% okay to have bugs and errors upon release. Every developer and their brood mother has. To decrease these issues, get playtesters. Friends can play your games, spot any errors, and help you point out things that can be improved upon. I recommend having playtesters at every stage of development.

Make sure your game runs before you publish it. Please.

You can still be silly and giddy! There's no reason to not be, especially when you get positive comments! The point of this is to not be outright rude to potential players and fans.

IGNORE HATE COMMENTS. In this case, a hate comment is a statement that contains no constructive criticism and are only here to be insulting or malicious. People are going to leave you with actual piles of dog shit in your ask box. They are trying to provoke you. Giving hate comments any attention, even if you're there to "clap back" proves that they got to you, even if you don't take the hate to heart. They will continue to pester you. Delete any hate comments and ignore them completely. Laugh about them with friends in a private setting, sure.

THINK BEFORE YOU REFERENCE! I know one big thing in this community is adding references to other games in yours, such as plushies of other characters or putting them on posters. The best thing you can do it ask the developer before adding this. How would you feel if some random person you've never met put your character in a video game? Most of us would feel weird and potentially violated. Open communication with devs is awesome. I am usually okay with it as long as someone asks for permission.

As a complete aside, I prefer more tasteful references to other games as opposed to 523482346 plushies and posters. These have been slightly overdone. Why not theme a candy after another game's character? Maybe your characters know each other.

OTHER RESOURCES I RECOMMEND

Devtalk is a server dedicated to independent visual novel creators. You can find jobs, resources, advice, talks, and, like, everything there! Devtalk is super useful. Everyone in there is so cool. They have a really great and comprehensive list of resources that I could not even begin to cover.

Visual Novel Design is a great YouTuber. No other words, check the guy out!

Ren'py and whatever other engine you're using has documentation that's super useful to follow.

Arimia not only has amazing VN resources, especially for marketing, but she also just has? Amazing games that you should check out?

And for a shameless self plug, I'm the lead of Sacred Veins, a collective of devs creating narrative games, whether it be horror, humor, romance, or everything in-between. Come hang out with us!

[bougiebutchbinch]

You know, if I weren't lazy I could give you an essay on how comic Wade is either closeted transfem or wants to at least medically transition even if he stays using he/him pronouns. I'd even site my sources in MLA format for you. I'd just have to find some very specific events, and it also relies on the idea that the scars are psychosomatic (which was implied in one of the Deadpool and Spiderman comics).

The only problem is on a good day I'm wishy washy about liking that (a physical representation of his poor mental health that people either ignore or out right demonize? yes please) but on most days I don't really like it as a concept.

oh goshhhhhh I am soooo here for transfem Wade!!!!

Should you ever have the spoons to deliver that essay, I for one would love to hear it.

She (or he, I think they're pretty fluid with pronouns, like Deadpool always is!) is the transfem who makes her gender identity A Big Joke for years and years and years, always laughing about 'haha what if I was a girl what if I was your girlfriend what if my pussy got wet whenever we fought what if I wore a maid dress for you what if that hahahaha wouldn't that be funny'

to the point where

everyone can kinda tell

it isn't a joke

but Wade's almost too afraid to acknowledge that it isn't? Like, she's been keeping her barriers up with comedy for so long, and especially growing up with her dad and then in the military, a BIG part of her is fucking terrified about what it means to acknowledge how she really feels about herself, let alone embrace it.

Anyway, I think one day someone (Vanessa?) would listen to Wade doing his usual bit about 'lol what if I was a girl' and would just say "You could be, you know."

Her tone is kind, gentle, and completely fucking serious.

And Wade suddenly gets

very

very

quiet.

For all of a minute.

"Yeah," he manages eventually, hoarser than ever. Flashing Vanessa a bright, cheeky grin that doesn't quite reach his (her?) eyes. "But then you'd have competition for being the hottest woman in this polycule, and we can't have that."

But maybe next time he takes Vanessa up on her offer to do his nails and make up, she catches him looking at himself wistfully in the mirror, and presses a little kiss to the side of his head.

"I'm ready for that competition whenever you are," she promises. "But you'd better bring your A-game. I'm not gonna go easy on you just because you're a newly minted girl."

Wade chokes out a laugh. She jerks away from her reflection like she's scared that she's been caught - then, tentatively, glances back again. Looking at herself, scars and high cheekbones and thin eyelashes darkened with mascara, and more scars, and all - before her nervous, sickly yellow eyes flit to Vanessa's.

Vanessa can see the want there. The yearning.

And she can see, just as clearly, the fear.

"Rain check?" asks Wade, fake-breezy. "Not that I'm not ready for you to kick my ass at the art of hot-girlhood, but you have had a lot more practice."

Vanessa finds her hand - fever-hot as ever, and just a little sweaty. She gives it a tight squeeze.

"Rain check," she agrees, not because she wants it, but because Wade needs it. Then, distracting her, because there's a fragile set to Wade's mouth, like she's letting something she so desperately wants slip between her fingers - "What colour should I paint your toenails?"

"Ooh!" Wade perks up immediately, clapping her hands in delight. "Wolverine-costume-yellow? Nonono, gunmetal grey for Cable! And Colossus. Okay, so maybe one yellow for every two grey? Hey, I'll do yours too~ We can match!"

She's adorable when she's excited. Vanessa drops another little kiss on one of the textured ridges that divides Wade's skull into continents of scar tissue. "Sounds like a perfect girls' night."

"Girls' night," Wade repeats, smile small and precious. Then, bouncing up from the chair in front of Vanessa's vanity - "Okay, game plan! I'll go put on the Golden Girls and make popcorn, you get the nail polish and the files. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing."

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+* 🐿️

The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

[yogurtkags]

hii! may i please request suna rintaro w maybe some friends to lovers? u can have creative freedom w it! i just want it to be completely sfw bc i’m only 17!:)

❝ SO HIGH SCHOOL ❞ — suna rintarou

cw. gn!reader, implied friends to lovers, slight canon divergence — inarizaki beats karasuno, light swearing (like once) | wc: 600

event masterlist

the gymnasium is ablaze, drums and horns in an intense battle of psyche against each other as the teams fight it out on the orange court with rally after rally.

you’re sitting at the edge of your seat, eyes wide and hands clenched together as the last few points of this definitive match drag out. your heart rapidly races against your chest and your palms are beginning to sweat, you’ve been awfully quiet for a while now, focused on the game at hand and nervously bounding your leg up and down.

suna doesn’t know that you’re here, you told him that you couldn’t make it because you were called back to school to help with tutoring. he didn’t mind too much considering the circumstances and this wasn’t the finals or anything. nonetheless, you caught a glimpse of disappointment flash in his eyes for a split second, and you knew you’d do anything in your power to show up today, even if it meant bowing on your knees and apologising to your poor kouhai for rainchecking on her. she just politely patted your back and told you to go get your man, much to your embarrassment.

it’s down to inarizaki’s match point, and atsumu’s yelling for the cover after karasuno barely manages to bump the ball back over the net.

with a pass directly to atsumu, the twins once again attempt their minus tempo quick attack and with bated breath, the stands fall silent and the air is stifling, the crowds listening out for the decisive whistle and call that would determine who moves on to the next round of the tournament.

“what a spike from miya osamu, beautifully set by his twin brother miya atsumu, and with that, inarizaki takes the win today and clinch a spot in the top 16 for this year’s high school spring volleyball tournament!”

you shoot up from your seat hidden in the corner at the side of the court, hands over your mouth as you bask in the loud cheers of the people around you, fellow inarizaki students, teachers, and spectators alike. your eyes scan the orange court, searching for your best friend in a sea of black and orange, and when they do find his, you can’t help but let out a tearful laugh at the way they widen with disbelief, and soften as his arms open wide for you to run into.

as you throw yourself into his embrace, suna catches you with an oof, lightly spinning as he tries to regain his footing, “woah easy there, tiger.”

raising your voice so that he can hear you over the crowd, “congratulations rin!”

you wrap your arms around his neck as his hands tenderly rest against your waist to support you, forehead leaning against his as your breath fans against his cheeks, more quietly this time, “i’m so proud of you, always.”

in this moment, time stands still and all the surrounding noise fades, it’s just the two of you standing in the middle of the tokyo metropolitan gymnasium, nothing but sweat and polished hardwood floors beneath your feet.

suna whispers, “i fucking love you so much, i could kiss you right now.”

“do it, i dare you.” your face is graced with a shy smile and a cheeky glint hidden in crescent moons for eyes, and he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

and who was he to ever back down from a challenge, head dipping ever so slightly to finally capture your lips in his.

they’re right, we don’t need the memories, let’s just live in the moment, you and me.

notes. hi chloe !! thank you so much for your request, this is my first time writing for sunarin and i hope i did him justice ♡ i look forward to interacting more with you, lovely !! (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[cowgirlcherrie]

𓏲 APPLE OF MY EYE ᵎᵎ secret admirer! abby anderson

synopsis: love is a free spirit; crushing is even harder. It all started with a special delivery of anonymous treats at your door. While you were yearning that it would be your best friend sending them to you.

song(s): apple cider by beabadoobee

*LYRICS ARE BOLDED

content: takes place in game universe. follows the events leading up to seattle day 1. violence. death. repetitive mentions of apples; eating them, imagery etc. mutual pinning. implied character death by end. blood. right person, wrong time. missed connection. kinda implied fem! reader. Joel death mention. death foreshadowing. intuitive knowledge of death. Closely follows the song.

WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER

Crush and Crunch.

Crunching with your crush. 

It all sounded the same to you, the cracking of your vocal cords at the back of your throat pushing at enunciating every syllable in crush sounding like crunch; which were your teeth poking into an apple every Tuesday. Shiny Granny Smiths, on Tuesdays, Honeycrisps on Wednesdays, and Fuji on Fridays. 

You weren’t sure when the kitchen started getting apple deliveries; perhaps the never-ending garden of trees grown them with the perfect analytics to make sure they weren’t poisonous or synthetic apples but you weren’t complaining. The first time you tried an apple sounded ridiculous to say. Your first ever. You took the finely cut slice; detached from its core to your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors mixed together in your mouth like a rollercoaster. Juicy and bitter with a tinge of sweetness.  Just how you liked it.

Abby said they were even better with cinnamon. Rambling on about how sugar and spice equate to everything nice and the best finger-licking of your dreams. On apple days, during breakfast you found yourself sitting at a secluded table with Abby in front of you slicing the apples so they were easier to consume. Shared amongst the two of you as your hands reached for the same slices; Abby pulled her hand away to let you have the last. 

BUT YOUR HAIR BE SMELLING LIKE FRUIT PUNCH

You enjoyed these bittersweet moments; like the apples of course. The sun beamed on Abby’s face in marigold and marmalade, as her blonde locks blew in the air slightly disheveled from when she went on patrol that day. Her fresh scent of pine, and fruit blend from her hair which was refreshing and comforting you. She took a final bite before flipping the knife down to take it back to the utensil bin for washing. Where then the two of you would part ways. It was never awkward. Eating apples in silence; you mean — because Abby had a schedule more vigorous and deathly than yours and you had other businesses to attend to. But she never would miss out on an Apple time with you. 

AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU THAT MUCH

You’ve grown suspicious in recent meters. You weren’t one to talk about love either but it somehow found some way to bite back at you like the juices of the apple splattering on your lips when you would eat them.

WAIT, I DO, FUCK.

It started with suspicious packages revealing themselves outside of your door, wrapped in a delicate ribbon, with a brown paper box tied off with the most absurd cursive handwriting that you could hardly read. But somehow making out, the delicate notion of

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Xoxo, eyes from afar.

CALL ME, AT MIDNIGHT.

So as anyone else would, at midnight, you stomped your way to Abby’s door pounding your fist into the wood until she slammed it open looking at you in bewilderment. Toothbrush in between her lips scratching her teeth; scrubbing away at any build-up as she watched you. Notioning with her hands for you to speak. She looked carefree, laidback her hair was down and she looked as though she freshly showered. 

“Thanks for the gift” you smirk, holding up the box with randomized love and self-care books with an intact nail polish set that was on top. It was a variety pack, swishes of different shades of pink and white, and even nudes to go for a clear coat; like a puff of cotton candy.

You were flattered, naturally, it was a sweet gift like a candy cane in the sweet summer breeze you wanted to just rip it out of the packaging and have a go. You also never had someone be so considerate of you. Thinking to bring you back something so pure and valuable that surely wouldn’t collect dust but you would bring out every month. You would make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pointer finger motioning – one minute, running to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste rinsing her mouth off. 

“I didn’t give you that.” Abby specified, taking a washcloth to wipe at her hands and around her mouth as she let you inside.

“C’mon Abs, even if you did that’s—”

“I didn’t give that to you.” Abby’s voice was more serious this time, stern and strict with some urgency. Not that she was being rude about it, but she was trying to get you off her case. After a long day of patrolling where she did find goodies you would like along with some ribbons from a craft store along the way, Abby got to work making you a sweet delivery. After all, you deserved it. 

“But who else would know I like apples besides you!”

“Manny, Mel, Nora, Ow–”

“Okay I didn’t ask for names.” You hushed, fiddling with the box in your hand as you looked at the treats inside. Biting at your lips, it was like being given a hug but the person who gave it to you disappeared before you can offer one better, or even fully wrap your arms around them to give one back.

“This was really sweet I just wish I could give something back.” You mumbled, tilting your head down to look at the books yearningly. Amidst the violence, the blood, and the chaos, you still loved and that was what pushed you forward. That was what erupted a fire in you; triggering your passion and jumpstarting your heart like cables to a car. 

“I think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Abby suggested, not looking at you but folding her laundry to put away for safekeeping.

“What?” 

“What.” Abby shot back, acting as if she didn’t say anything prior, but you heard her well. Your friend, heart, and soul were being shifty with you; acting as if she didn’t care about your treats or that you were being admired from afar by someone with a sweet gentle heart. 

“Nevermind I’m being silly” You confessed, taking your words back and turning on your heels to leave her room.

Abby wasn’t going to let you leave. Lips parted as she watched your feet get closer and closer to the exit of the door.

LETS GIVE, THIS, THING A TRY.

“Show me.” 

You stopped walking, turning around slowly on your heels. Part of you wished it was Abby, though she would never really know. You watched the way she looked at Owen with appreciation but also disgust. How her love turned to hatred and pain. Abby wasn’t focused on you, you would think.

Abby wasn’t focused on you.

“What?”

“I said show me,” Abby confessed, her voice as clear as day, “C’mere…” Abby patted the side of her bed where she sat comfortably. 

“G‘head tell me about it. I wanna see it too” Abby gave a smile. Truth is, behind her push n’ pull —  rigid love and aggression she still hoped for you. Amidst her passive-aggressiveness, she was giving the love she felt as though she would never feel again. The permanent hole in her heart that you kept on refiling and you didn’t even know. 

She didn’t want you to slip through the cracks of her fingers just yet. Hiding behind a mask, cowardly shying herself away from you. Owen wasn’t on her mind but having you think that especially as she set off on a spree for the man who killed Jerry, would fix that. You were a liability, she wouldn’t let you go. 

You made your way down the steps, to her bed tucked in the corner nook, sitting down as you opened the package. With that you started rambling, tossing the paper apart like a kid on Christmas, showing Abby the hardcover copies with a dopey smiley on your face. Abby couldn’t contain her own smile either. Watching as you went through each nail polish shade.

“Can I try these on you?” You held up a baby pink, it was in a ballet slipper shade, which would make a good neutral against her bright skin. 

Abby wasn’t going to resist, shrugging up her shoulders against her black long-sleeve shirt, pushing the shirt up on her arms, “Sure”

So you proceeded further with painting her nails that evening, toxic paint brushing on her fingers like a canvas —  while the two of you whisked away in laughter. It was like a red string wrapped around the two of your fingers, webbing you together and pulling you closer and closer until there was no gaps or lack of air. 

It was pure and for the moment you really valued it. What you didn’t know you had until it was gone. You wished you could have hugged her a little bit longer, and learned more about her besides what she was showing you at a service level. You wanted to know Abigail, not Abby. Before it was snatched away from you with the snap of the fingers. Get the gunpowder dust off the sea salt it was time for war. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED MY HAIR, SO GO AHEAD AND TOUCH IT.

I like your hair today, and your necklace  xoxo, eyes from afar

Maybe it was the validation or the comments but you loved receiving the little notes wrapped in different color ribbons. Maybe you were looking forward to catching your second set of eyes. Lingering outside your door to see if they would show but it was always as if they knew your schedule. Catering to the perfect moments that you were gone to slip the delight at your door. 

The note of this week – bringing joyous to your being made you wear the delicate jewelry even more. At first, when you wore it, it was just a careless decision that you did for fun. Spontaneous and last minute as you untangled it in between your fingertips pulling out the birthstone necklace that was gifted to you from no other than Abby herself; weeks before the arrival of your secret admirer. But the moment you remembered, clasping it on around your neck was the moment you truly valued it even more. You were certainly never going to take it off. 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE JUMPER I WORE, SO I ALWAYS WORE IT.

But your bright radiating aura, evidently in hues of pink and purple; signs of love and wisdom was shortly dimmed by the chatter during your afternoon meal. You were set to follow Jordan to the Serevena, patrolling being the last thing you wanted to do of the evening. Endless pit in your stomach nothing felt right. The snap before everything fell apart. 

Out for blood, out for vengeance was Abigail Anderson who returned with blood on her hands. Murderer!Murderer! Red-handed girl with fury in her eyes and a golf club sharp at the end splattering everything into two. 

Wrecking havoc; causing destruction. 

That was all you heard from Jordan as you chewed through the same-old burrito that evening. That was enough to make your eardrums bleed. You could feel your heart in your ears jumping out of your chest at the whispers of Abby’s name, eyes darting from table to table to hear if anyone had caught wind of such a subject: 

I heard she… 

Can’t imagine that…

That’s terrifying…

No Abby mention.

Coincidentally amongst Abby’s absence; the snarky girl was gone with the wind, and so was your secret admirer. The deliveries stopped coming, you were alone, with a set of eyes ‘watching you’ and apples to now peel on your own. . . you found it odd, but one thing for sure was that Abby would hear from you later, where you would gush about this admirer of yours and what you imagined them to be.

IT’S REALLY NICE TO TALK TO YOU, IT’S REALLY NICE TO HOLD YOUR HAND

“Abs on a scale of 1-10 how attractive do you think my admirer is” You pondered, hands entangled in the pages of a fashion magazine. Fingers dusting away at the thin layer of grime and grey from the dust and dirt; signs of age.

“Probably like a 3” Abby confessed bluntly as she walked around her room moving vastly to pack away her belongings. 

Abby’s side of her room was neater in comparison to Manny’s, her laundry was folded, memories stored away for safekeeping, and everything was where it needed to be. Including your ribbon and the scissors she used — the bad duct tape she stole for security. 

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe a 5, it could well off be a creep,” Abby muttered as she continued to push different survival items into her bag, jacket first, followed by flashlights and extra batteries. 

“I don’t think it is though,” Abby froze, panicking instilling in her, it was like a vicious game of hot and cold, you creeping closer and closer to her and it was time for Abby to fall back and bring on the passiveness. 

“What?”

“I mean imagine this, they send me a final letter asking me to meet by the gardens where they reveal their identity to be no other than —”

“Save that for a fantasy, I’m leaving” Abby spat, cutting the happiness in the air with a thick knife which was her voice that evening. It felt like a safety net for her to drop off bad news right after you gave the good ones, almost debunking it creating a hostile environment, and shattering the rose-tinted glasses off. Then you remembered who you were talking to, what you were doing. A flower in the middle of an apocalypse, Abby being covered in thorns. 

“Is it because you killed that man”

“What makes you think it’s…who told you?” Abby furrowed her eyebrows stopping her movement to let you get a good look at her face.  Abby was looking you up and down like you ripped the bandaid off her arm like you were digging your fingers into a cut infecting it with your fingertips and any active bacteria. 

“Word travels around here pretty fast, this isn’t knew information”

A beat. And then another.

“Are you satisfied” You perk up, not breaking eye contact with the blonde in front of you. The fresh azul orbs dilating under the words that left your mouth. She looked at you with such admiration, but the mention of Jerry was enough to make Abby swing hard as she was back in the room holding her weapon of choice. Who was she to play god? Be the bearer of death? Call of evil? Abby thought back to what she was fighting for: was she satisfied? It wouldn’t bring her father back but there was a price on her head. Preferably until her life was obliterated and gone with her head. 

“Hmm”

“Because you don’t look satisfied” Your voice cracked, you were cutting into her skin and Abby was growing steadily uncomfortable, shifting her weight. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her head as she looked at you. Like a pretty Jem stone in a dimly lit room; all eyes on you she didn’t want to talk about this with you. Someone she was so emotionally connected with, god — anybody else but you.

“I…I need to go.” Abby stood up, swinging her backpack in her arms as you followed suit in the silence.

You stood up mimicking her actions taking your magazine in between your fingers and holding it close to your chest. 

“When will you be back?” you whispered, picking at the skin surrounding your nails as you rubbed your lips against each other as you rocked your body forward and backward. Abby’s eyes softened, looking at you up and down as she stuck her tongue in her cheek, clenching her jaw tightly. It almost pained her to say. 

AND EVEN IF WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, WE CAN BE, MORE THAN THAT.

“Soon…I hope, I’ll be back soon” Abby asserted. Abby bowed her head, cusping your cheeks in between her hands as she gave a chaste kiss to your cheek. Calloused fingers rubbing at your soft skin, It was a friendly thing, right? Nothing more?

She didn’t even like you that much.

But you on the other hand weren’t sure of your own feelings.

Like a tough game of tug-of-war, you wanted her, then you didn’t, then you couldn’t shake yourself out of it. You liked her and you wanted her. You wished and hoped that the admirer of yours would be her. The person you had sleepovers where you would laugh about your events and enjoy the delicacies delivered by your admirer you would have it no other way.

When she pulled away you struggled to find the words, hands jittery somewhere between reaching to grab your cheek or to wipe off her kiss with your hand. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was as if someone held a gun to your head telling you the right pill or blue.  

“May your survival be long” you reminded, holding a hand at your arm scratching at your sleeves.

“May your death be swift” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

CALL ME AT MIDNIGHT, LETS GIVE THIS THING A TRY.

If you could do it all again you would. 

ASK YOU IF ITS OKAY,

You were alone, deep into your ocean of thoughts as your happy moments were coming to an end? Did you take it for granted? 

TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,

The burrito you ate that evening wanting to come up, mouth sticky with bile. You suddenly didn’t want to patrol the Serevena and help Nora move supplies. It felt wrong – almost impractical like you were in the wrong place. Foot cemented into the floor as you stood at your bed. Shoving supplies into your backpack, tying a strand of the ribbon from your admirer's box around the handle of your bag. You wanted to be back at the base with Abby where the two of you would have your sleepovers, cut your apples, and have competitive matches in the shooting range where you would tell Abby she missed a shot and she would tell you, you held the gun wrong. 

Preparing to leave, doing one final spin at your place of comfort. Freshly made bed and sorrowful grey sheets, you wished for a happier time and a great release. Opening your door, you were met with one box before you would go. Picking up the lightweight box it almost felt impractical to even be wrapped. 

TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER, OR MAYBE SOME FRUIT PUNCH

Parting gift for the one I stole these for… don’t forget me Xoxo, A. Anderson Your eyes always 

You smiled to yourself, it was all you ever wanted. Your best friend really was your admirer and you just hoped you could reach her before she was gone and it truly could have been your last time seeing her. Unwrapping the terribly wrapped paper object revealed a shiny sharpened knife with a brown handle. It was Abby’s knife, the one she savored and used only for your apples that she would cut during your lunch breaks. Tears brimmed your eyes moving the object around as if it were malleable, smiling gently to yourself at the irony of it all. Quickly locking the door and throwing the paper that was used to wrap the gift away in the hall trash you ran to try to catch Abby who was already on the truck, across from Mel as she set off on her journey. As the sun was getting low, so were you who had to travel adjacent from your new fount lover. 

What were you gonna say?

Besides: I knew it, of course, you wanted her to know that you felt the same; in fact even more.

AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER THAT MUCH.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

“There’s no real you are real right now”

“Shh– baby, I’m real” Abby hushed bringing up her hand to your mouth to silence you. “I’m real.”

You were currently carrying a tray of med supplies but soon it all crashed to the ground; metal tin hitting the floor as Abby backed away into a corner. She looked disheveled different than you had last seen her; whispies around her face. Like she cared a little bit more, but maybe it was because she was with you. 

You couldn’t help but bring Abby into a tight hug head against her shoulder, resting your eyes in full solitude. You were home amidst the violence and her going AWOL that had made Isaac angry with all of you. You lied thickly through your teeth when Isaac dragged you in asking questions about the location and conspiration Abby had going on.

All you could say was you didn’t know.

And it wasn’t a lie but in fact the truth there was not much you really did know. 

Abby held onto you as if you were going to be snatched out of her hands as the both of you cried. Sobbs shaking the both of you. Abby couldn’t stop herself from applying gentle kisses to the side of your head and holding at the nape of your neck during the hug.

“You look like shit!” you acknowledged pulling at the sleeve of her jacket to which Abby rolled her eyes and pulled your hand away.

“Ahh could be worse”

A beat. And another; comfortable silence filling the air between the two of you. You didn’t wanna ask but for your newfound knowledge, you had no other choice but to. You wanted her to know, hell you haven’t seen her for very long and this well could have been the last time you would ever. 

“So it was you? All along” you sputtered, snickering under your breath as you brought your hands across your chest, licking the base of your lips as your eyes wandered off.

“It was – hey! You opened the letters” Abby gave you a look of disbelief, half of it was due to her being scared shitless, others it was the fact that Abby could feel her own hands getting clammy as she rubbed them against the base of her jeans to get it to stop.

“It said 2 —”

“Weeks I know” “I was desperate”

There was silence again. 

“I could just kiss you right now I can’t believe you are alive” You blurted out, giving Abby the most gentle smile. Abby for a second felt her world move in slow motion as she stared with such unconditional love. 

“Then do it”

So you did, rushing forward, throwing your body against Abby’s as the two of you leaned in for a swift kiss. Her lips were chapped, slightly rugged but you didn’t mind applying your smooth ones to her as the movements of your body synched together in eternal sunshine. Nothing in this moment mattered, besides her lips on yours and her hands against your body. Abby’s fingers stroked at your cheeks eventually moving down between your jaw and your neck as she continued. No breaks; no air, until the sound of boots stomping closer to the room rang your ears, forcing you to pull away.

“Okay, I need supplies miserably Nora brought me to you, I have to go, I don’t know if this will be my last time seeing you: I hope it’s not, I’m not exactly in Isaac’s good graces – I think we both know that” Abby spoke with urgency, distrust but also sadness. Abby wasn’t sure but recently she’s been feeling as though things were slipping in between her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long this ecstasy and rapture would last, or the longevity of her contentment. Abby was certain the girl from the room; with the golf club and joel would show her face again.

“It’s okay” you assured, hands now at Abby’s biceps, lips rubbing against each other as you turned your head away from her face, shaking it slightly. 

“But don’t forget. . .” “I’m so incredibly infatuated by you” Abby whispered as she moved in closer to give a swift kiss to your forehead.

Now wasn’t the time for formalities or titles, but you wished with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed shut, that she would return for the conversation worth having. Full honesty and confessional where your girl that smelled of pine would tell you all her rushes of thoughts that nagged at her as she closed her eyes.

“Knife to the chest sweetheart, swing with your right not your left…it’s your better arm” Abby cautioned, pretending to bring her arm up to swing, giving a final squeeze to your cheek as she was headed for the door preparing for ground zero.

“Bye Abby” 

That was the difference, it was as if your body knew. Saying Bye instead of a see you later or, playfully threatening her to come back to you in one piece. Your eyebrows furrowed; your face scrunched as you cringed at your words, as mediocre as they sounded. You caught yourself doing that a lot and you weren’t sure why. Going from present tense to past tense. “I am” to “I did” to “I was” , this happened after you started dreaming. Dreaming that your body was against a cold tile, scrunching into a ball as you let out your last breath alone.

You knew. 

“This is not goodbye — don’t say that, it’s see you later!” Abby snapped, giving you a hand motion as she swung the door open, crouching down as she moved steadily through the room as it closed behind her with a loud CLICK! From the lock.

“I’ll see you later” Your hand went from waving to at your side as your smile dropped and abruptly the warm room felt cold. Very cold.

But you weren’t going to see her later. Body paralyzed to the floor as the bullet wound in your stomach bled crimson all over the floor. As red as the Honeycrisp apples you ate on Wednesdays. An auburn-haired girl rushes past you following the footsteps of Nora. You were crashing and your body was failing you. Whimpers of pain escaped your lips as you held onto your stomach like you had a bad stomach ache, rolling onto your side as your vision became a nuisance and blurry mess. During your last few moments, you thought of Abby and her bright smile, all the plans she had for the two of you, and how you were finally happy that you got your happy ending, 

But at what cost?

You weren’t going to get to drink apple cider with her or hug her again, and that’s what destroyed you the most as a salted tear fell from your eye. Apple was placed on the table rotting from the inside out, With Abby’s knife poked into its core. Death has met its match.

You were the apple of her eye, and you were destroyed and eaten whole indefinitely. 

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @ariianelle @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @imamybubbles @mikasbby @trulygnomed

© cowgirlcherrie

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + Headcanons, Part 2 (Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, Sun Wukong, Macaque)

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Huge environmentalist, if you put any garbage or recycling in the wrong bin expect to get at least a three hour lecture, no you can not escape this, yes MK and Mei have tried, no they did not succeed

- ONLY shops from farmers markets/family businesses, you will never catch this man supporting a corporation

- Use to steal Tang's college hoodies

- Took him the longest to get used to having Redson around and a part of the group , but eventually warmed up to him (is still kinda salty about Redson burning MK's room though)

- Grows his own herbs

- Gets incredibly frustrated when he gets the hiccups (writing this as I'm fighting off hiccups)

- Loves watching true crime shows and listening to true crime podcasts while he does household chores or while he's setting up/closing the shop

- Got his ears pierced with Tang

- MK and Mei call him mom when he's being overbearing, Tang calls him mom now too to tease him

- Once caught Mei and MK sneaking food out of the kitchen at 3am and beat them with a broom for a solid minute because he was too drowsy to recognize them and assumed they were intruders (they were fine)

- Is the type of person to call his husband (Tang) "bro", "dude" etc

- Got drunk in college once and talked about nothing but how much he loved Tang, didn't remember any of it the next day but Tang asked him out pretty quickly after that

- Exchanged a few recipes with DBK while they were at the beach, they still do exchange more recipes once in a while but they don't talk much outside of cooking related topics

- Learned how to play dnd in college because Tang liked the game and ended up liking it a lot more than he expected to so they wound up playing together all the time (they still play it once in a while if they have time)

- Him and Sandy get together every other weekend to try and help Pigsy with his anger management issues

- Never called MK his son while he was growing up because he was scared that MK's real family would show up one day to take him back home, finally realized that no one was gonna show up a short while after MK turned 10 and started acting like an actual parent (MK always saw Pigsy as his dad though)

- Always says "this is the last time" when giving Tang free noodles (it is never gonna be the last time, and Tang knows it)

- Once bumped into a mannequin at the mall and apologized to it, Tang still makes fun of him

- Use to take Mei and MK to conventions all the time until Mei learned how to drive and could take them herself

- Won't care for people getting hurt in movies but will be absolutely crushed if something happens to an animal (sobbed when he watched "A Dog's Purpose")

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is acts of service

- Keeps trying to convince Tang to come with him to family events, has yet to succeed

- Carries around an extra pair of headphones in case Tang or MK needs them

- Almost threw hands with DBK and PiF after hearing about how they treated Redson (seriously guys, I need Redson to have a good parental figure in the next season, please), this man is a father to everyone

- Snores loud as fuck, it's a wonder how Tang gets any sleep

- No fashion sense what's so ever

- Insomnia

- He/Him

- Gay

- Once zoned out and stared at a wall for six hours straight

- Desk is covered in pencil shavings and pen ink

- Constantly bruised from always falling (weak ankles)

- Fluent in Polish, don't ask why, it just feels right

- Doodled all over his books in school (they made him pay for new ones)

- Never up before sunrise

- Got in some random dudes car once thinking it was a taxi and almost got himself kidnapped

- Will make the most annoying, smart-ass remark to anything anyone says

- I'm not actually sure if it's ever mentioned in the show what Tang does for a living but it doesn't matter, he's a college history professor now

- Has grandma floral bedsheets (we've all seen his sleepwear, you cannot tell me that man doesn't have grandma floral bedsheets)

- Somehow always cold

- Constanly napping, he can and will fall asleep if he's left alone for too long (his students once caught him asleep at his desk after lunch break and dipped class)

- Used to have hexagon glasses cause he thought they looked cool but found out Pigsy liked circular ones better so he got new ones

- Still has a septum piercing he got while he was in college but keeps it flipped up, he also has ear gauges

- When he met Pigsy's parents he was super nervous and ended up passing out half way through the night because of anxiety, he has not lived it down and refuses to go to any events with Pigsy if his family is gonna be there (they actually really liked him and are disappointed when he doesn't show up)

- Doesn't own a bookshelf for some reason, everything is just piled on the floor

- Very faint freckles

- Needs a daily 'to do' list, his whole day gets thrown off if he doesn't have some kind of schedule

- Maladaptive daydreamer

- Never showers, only takes baths

- Needs headphones on crowded transportation otherwise he'll get stressed at all the noises and talking overlapping eachother

- Severe rsd (rejection sensitivity dysphoria,  "benched" was an especially bad time for him)

- Number one art appreciator and constantly drags Pigsy to museums

- Smells like a library (please tell me you know what smell I mean)

- Love language is gift giving ( and you KNOW he loves you when he shares his food with you willingly)

- 76% of the clothes he owns are thrifted

- Blind as a fucking bat, if he looses his glasses he's on the floor feeling around for them like Velma,  I swear they could be two feet in front of him but he won't even notice

- Hypersomnia

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Huge conspiracy theorist, ask him anything and he'll have some in depth explanation on how it relates to cryptids or something (I'm talking Matpat level conspiracy theorist, seriously, someone get him help)

- Slowest typer on the planet (mainly because the screen is too small for his hands), will respond to something 3-5 minutes after they changed topics

- Made seed bombs and threw them everywhere at random around the city and now there's a bunch of flowers and vines growing everywhere

- Was the first one (Aside from Mei and MK) to welcome Redson into the group with open arms, everyone else was still kinda cautious

- Would literally die for any of his friends, no questions asked, no hesitation, just jumps in the line of danger as soon as he sees one of his friends about to get hurt

- Didn't have a lot of friends growing up until he met Pigsy in his last year of high school because everyone was afraid of him

- He and Pigsy were in a band together in college, Sandy discusses it with pride, Pigsy gets embarrassed and denies ever being in a band at all

- Since he also has scales he's the one who teaches and helps Mei look after her scales and keep them from drying or getting damaged

- Yoga master, wakes up super early to do it during sunrise

- Has the best taste in music, he can find the most amazing, tear jerking, heart wrenching, underground music ever effortlessly

- Hasn't met a single person he wasn't able to get along with

- Firmly believes in all the little wishing rituals (11:11, shooting stars, birthday candles, blowing dandelions etc)

- Learned how to whistle so he could sing along with birds

- *gets robbed* "oh, i bet he needed the money, it's ok"  "I really don't think he did." "...maybe he's gonna donate it!"

- Favourite kind of tea is earl grey

- Named one of his cats Maquack after Macaque

- Sometimes cat sits for Bai He when she goes to doctor appointments, family visits out of the city, etc

- Got his piercing while he was still in a band but kept them in because his band mates were some of his first friends and they all got pierced together

- Has a tail to help him swim better (unfortunately I could not add it in the edit above but just I imagine he has the same kind of tail as the water Na'vi in Avatar ig)

- Skin has a faint ombre to it (his hands and feet are lighter and fade around his forearms/knees to a slightly darker blue (i did add this one in my edit but unfortunately I don't think it's as visible as I wanted it to be, my bad)

- Webbed hands and feet to help him swim better

- Has adipose eyelids like a fish to protect his eyes from the water, block exposure of harmful ultraviolet light into his eyes and act as protection against impact to the eye in aquatic environments. Since his eyelids are transparent though, he has to wear a sleeping mask at night

- Smells like a mix of ocean air and tea

- Love language is quality time and physical touch (will pick up and hug his friends all the time no matter the place)

- His hair and beard always have something in them, sand, seaweed etc

- Shoes are actually really uncomfortable for him to wear because his body is evolved for an aquatic environment, but he doesn't want to be rude so he wears them anyway (Mei found out and got him a customized pair of shoes so he could be comfortable without feeling like he's being rude)

- Uses Kaomojis

- If he's not busy, or doesn't have anything planned for the next few hours, he'll spend his free time cleaning up the ocean and beaches from any garbage

- He/Him

- Pansexual

- Everything he has ever done has been an impulse decision

- Is the type of mf to kick the inside of someone knee while they're walking to make them fold (Tang is the primary victim)

- Chews his nails

- Made up his own constellations as a "fuck you" to the universe (somehow managed to convince some mortals they were real constellations too)

- Mk and Co constantly forget how ancient swk is until he says some old person shit

- Naturally has curly and untamable hair, uses glamor to avoid getting called out about not taking care of it

- Horrifically optimistic

- Always has leaves and dirt and sticks etc in his hair

- Will sit out in the rain for hours on end

- Follow up on the last hc, he's been struck by lightning.. twice

- Actually has really heavy eyebags but uses glamor to cover them up

- Gets bored super easily

- Has naturally long lashes, Mei is still convinced he's wearing makeup though

- Cannot cook for the life of him

- His memories are always in shades of gold, no ones sure if it hasn't something to do with his gold vision or not, even himself, he just can't remember things in normal colour

- Stress induced migraines from the circlet

- Not a fan of big cities but loves how the lights look at night

- Stacks of notebooks and loose paper, cannot keep anything organized

- Takes a nap everyday at exactly 2:38 without fail

- Freezes in the winter, man's house has no insulation whatsoever

- Doesn't like big crowds but also can't stand not being the center of attention

- Once picked fleas out of both MK's and his own hair and ate them, MK was and still is disgusted, he will never look at Monkey King the same way again

- Smells like Peaches (it's like the only fucking thing he eats)

- Love language is physical touch

- Kinda chubby (mostly around his stomach and thighs) but still has muscles

- Always teasing Redson about the fact that he's technically his uncle since he and DBK are sworn brothers, he finds Redson's overreactions to it funny but is secretly kinda hurt that Redson doesn't think of him as family anymore (He use to when he was a little kid but stopped seeing Wukong as family after he sealed DBK away. They've started to try and mend their relationship after the events of season 4, it's slow but it's progress)

- Sometimes the monkey's on FFM will come into his house through the windows at night to sleep with him for comfort

- Really bad with technology but pretends he's just too good for the internet so he can avoid using it without looking old

- He/Him

- Bisexual

- Says his "S"'s really sharply

- If you ask him anything about himself he'll give you a different answer to the exact same question everytime (he thinks it makes him mysterious,  it does not)

- Lower lid eyeliner >>>

- If you say something stupid or weird he'll just stare judgingly until you take it back

- Actually lost his mind when he found out what blowing bubbles were

- Drinks tea with an ungodly amount of sugar

- Chronic eye pain + headaches. It's gotten significantly better over the years but.. yk, eye gouged out

- Has a deeply relaxing voice, strangely enough

- Has tried to compliment people before but it always ends up coming off as an insult

- Classical music or heavy rock, no in-between

- It is literally impossible to take a bad picture of him

- Puts his hair up in a bun whe he doesn't wanna deal with it

- Has patches of freeze burns from LBD, along his right side (mostly just his arm).

- Theater kid

- Rose tea enjoyer

- Likes to bake sometimes and frequently exchanges recipes with Pigsy and DBK

- Like to watch the sunrise and sunset

- Hates being out in the sun too long, not having a shaded area nearby for an easy escape stresses him

- Will stare out the window while it rains, Mei once said he looked like he was pretending to be in a cringey early 2010 music video

- Hard of hearing, his six ears are very sensitive and all the fighting and screaming has definitely done some damage to them by now

- Follow up on the last HC, despite being hard of hearing he will either absolutely refuse to wear hearing aids, or will wear them (albeit begrudgingly) but cover them with glamor

- Septum and snake bite piercings he got during his emo phase

- Smells like grapes, don't ask

- Love language is quality time, he doesn't care to actually have a conversation, though, he's fine just sitting in comfortable silence

- Will use his shadow transport for the dumbest things when he's lazy, like teleporting the TV remote to him if it's on the other side of the couch, teleport a bag of chips from the pantry to him in his bedroom,  etc

- Room is covered in scented candles

- Sandy has invited him over to work out some of his problems multiple times, he doesn't really care to open up though, he just goes for the cats (Sandy let's him)

- His hair is always soft and he refuses to tell anyone what he washes with, MK has asked multiple times and he gets a different, vague answer everytime

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

“you’ve bewitched me, doll”

——————————————

Summary: you have the same powers as Wanda but your powers are darker. You were a villain and you fought the avenger but eventually, they helped u get rid of the dark magic and u became one of them. You are reading their minds in secret but there’s only one mind that revolved around you only, which is Bucky’s. you keep teasing each other and playing mind games until one day you get into action.

Characters: Bucky Barnes (the white wolf) X female reader

Warnings: Smut, M masturbation, mind reading, witches, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise, teasing, multiple orgasms, creampie, almost getting caught, mind games, begging, & lots of +18 explicit smut, Y/N's pov in the middle.

Word count: +3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut ever + English isn’t my first language so excuse me if I misspelled anything lol

P.S: Y/N is such a girlboss! + This takes place before Wanda vision and MOM! (aka Wanda didn’t get hold of the darkhold yet but Y/N did)

You were laying in your bed in your room in the compound watching your favorite TV show, your teammates were all on a mission except for you, Bucky, Sam, and Yelena. Sam and Yelena were in the gym training for their next mission. You and Bucky only shared a wall as your rooms were next to each other. You were just laying there remembering it all, how you became the most wicked witch ever, you even almost overpowered the scarlet witch herself as you locked yourself away for a year with the dark hold learning all its secrets and spells. Your brain brought you back to the events in New York and your infamous fight with Doctor Strange and how you almost wiped him and all the Avengers out from the face of the earth but that broken small little girl inside of you stopped you before it was too late, instead, you just asked for help and they were kind enough to put all your broken pieces back together and help you.

Strange took the dark hold and hid it away from the entire world that even he, can’t even have it. You were relieved by this thought as you can’t forget all the dark awful places this cursed book took you and how it almost made you go insane. Even though, it was the reason behind all your powers and knowledge of magic. Suddenly, you got snapped out of your thoughts by the random thoughts of your next-door neighbor.

The winter soldier himself, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you don’t find him hot, you had that secret crush on him since the first time you laid eyes on him which was when he tried to stop you from crashing Sam to death when they were fighting you. You knew that some part in your dark-tinted heart wanted Bucky to hold you down and fuck all the darkness out of you. You giggled at that dirty thought and went back to exploring Bucky’s thoughts.

You kept it a secret from everyone that you can read all of their minds but you couldn’t help it, it was a new environment for you and these guys were supposed to be your enemies so you felt like you had to, just to prepared for any kind of betrayal, as you promised yourself no mistakes like that again. You will not trust anyone again. But these guys made it different for you, they showed you what true family is. Especially Bucky. As you’re in his mind now, there’s an old song from whichever decade he’s from playing in his mind as he’s polishing and cleaning his metal arm. He’s so focused and you decided to play with him for a bit.

Bucky was obsessed with you and you knew it, you loved it, you even touched yourself to the thought of it. When you started getting used to them and getting close to them after they adopted you in the compound, Bucky kept picturing you in your underwear after he saw you this one morning by accident only in your bra and panties. He noticed for the first time how absolutely hot you are and how you were definitely his type. From this moment on, he started to notice you more, even though he hid it so well but you were in his mind and you knew it.

You knew how any sound from you made him obsess over you for hours so you got out of bed and searched for that song that keeps playing in his head and you played it, knowing it will get a surprising reaction out of him.

And it did. He looked over to your shared wall and smirked, and you felt that smirk. But what you didn’t know, is that Bucky knows you’re in his head. He noticed it first when he pictured you wearing skinny leather pants that hugs your ass cheeks perfectly and saw you wearing them the very next day. At this moment, he knew it was too perfect to be just a coincidence. He wanted to test this theory of his more, as he kept picturing you and thinking of you in certain places and wearing certain clothes and him knowing your playful teasing nature, you entertained every thought and idea of his and served it to him on a golden platter. He kind of liked how you keep reading his mind, this is why he kept seeing you and imagining you in very sexual scenarios and kept fantasizing about you. He knew you loved it.

You both kept playing these mind games for a while now and keep hearing each other masturbating at the thought of you two together in one bed. He knew you loved the idea of him masturbating and touching himself to you while moaning your name, and you did the same to him. Even the rest of the team noticed that heavy sexual tension between you two whenever you are all gathered for a meeting or a house party.

Bucky knew you were playing with him the moment you played that song, this is why he smirked. “you want a reaction doll, you’ll get one” he said to himself while he adjusted his metal arm on his torso again and laid in bed thinking about dressing you slowly while his hands are between your thighs teasing your entrance and you’re moaning his name in his ear and him burying his head in your neck biting and kissing your sweet spot. You, being in his head, seeing him doing this to you made you breathe heavily and feel your cunt gets hotter and wetter. You sat in bed in silence and paused the song which made him smirk and grin more in the other room, knowing what his thoughts did to you.

Bucky couldn’t actually handle more of these mind games and wanted to taste you so badly, he was really desperate for the real thing more and needed you. He thought that if he kept that “let’s try the real thing” thought in his mind, you’d cave and ask him to fuck you. But you didn’t, which made him more craving and weaker for you. But you couldn’t help it, teasing is actually one of your kinks. Now, you can read in his mind that he’s tired of fucking himself to the thought of you and he wanted to actually do it. You actually thought of just going to his room and burying yourself in his bed, giving him permission to do anything to you but you didn’t really have the guts to do it. You were not the begging type. But little did you know, he was.

You heard him get out of bed and get out of his room, with one thought only in his mind. You. Fucking you, licking you, tasting you, burying his cock inside of you. Your heart started to beat a little faster as you heard him knocking on your door, you walked to your bedroom door slowly as you kept seeing what he was going to do to you for the rest of the day as it keeps playing in his head. You opened the door and saw heavy-breathing shirtless Bucky standing in front of you with nothing but lust in his eyes. “Aren’t you tired of these mind games yet, doll?” he said as he got closer to you that you can feel his hot heavy breaths on your forehead and you looked up to him and smirked. “Gosh, you’re killing me.” He said while moving closer making you step back and he kept moving forward until he was inside your room. He closed your bedroom door with his metal hand without breaking eye contact with you.

“What are you talking about, Barnes?” you said while trying to hide that smirk on your face as you got him where exactly you wanted.

“No, Y/N, don’t play dumb. I know you’re in my head and you can see what I’m thinking about” he licked his lips while looking at yours. “I know you love it, don’t lie to me doll” A shadow of a smirk formed on his lips which made you more turned on than ever. “I can smell the throbbing heat between your thighs baby, please don’t lie to me” Your heart kept beating more and your breaths became heavier.

“What do you want, Barnes?” you wanted to tease more and be more playful with him since you knew, this turned him on too.

“I wanna fuck you, Y/L/N. I wanna feel your body on mine. I wanna feel your wet throbbing cunt hugging my dick while it’s buried inside you.” He kept staring at your body like a prey and he’s the predator, you still can read his mind and what’s going on in his head, is a literal porno starring you, and him. He’s not lying when he said these things, you can see him actually doing it. “I know you want it too, kitten, please let me fuck you.” He did something, you weren’t expecting at all. He dropped to his knees in front of you. Lust is the only thing you can see in his eyes, and you love it. “You’ve bewitched me doll, all I want is you. Please let me at least touch you.” He made such an accusation of you bewitching him, in fact, you didn’t do anything at all, you just woke up one morning and saw him fucking you raw in his dreams out of nowhere. Jesus, this man will be the end of you as you are of him.

you moved closer and placed your left hand on his shoulder and your right hand on his head, playing with his hair, he looked up at you as he was still on his knees wearing nothing but gray sweat shorts. “Only with one condition, Barnes,” you said while pulling his hair a bit. He didn’t break eye contact and opened his mouth a little. “It has to be good” he smiled and grabbed your thighs from behind while lifting you up. “You’re in good hands doll, be sure of that” he chuckled while throwing you on the bed.

Y/N's POV:

He threw himself on me but being careful not to crash me, he started kissing me heavily as our tongues kept fighting for dominance. He obviously won this fight then he started taking my shirt and my shorts off. He broke the make-out to get a good look at my body as he ripped my bra off. He bit his lower lip hard when he saw my breasts and my hard nipples. “Just how I imagined them” he smirked while moving down to kiss and suck them and he put my life nipple in his mouth sucking and biting it and the other one is in between his fingers. I moaned hard and kept pulling and tangling his dark brown hair in my hands.

“You taste so good doll, fuck” he said between breaths then he pulled himself up to my neck and buried himself in it. Kissing and biting on my sweet spot while leaving his marks all over me. His fingers started to trace the line of my panties as he proceeded to take them off. I kept moaning in need of any attention to my lower area as it was soaked wet and needed any kind of ease. “Just say what you want doll, I can feel your heat against me,” he said while moving his hand down on my bed till it reached my swollen clit. I moaned loudly at his touch. “I know you need me, babe. I wanna hear you begging” he said while rubbing circles on my clit making me moan and scream louder. He wants me to beg just like I made him beg to fuck me.

“Know your place, Barnes, you’re the one who begged me in the beginning,” I said between moans, trying my hardest to sound confident and well put. He chuckled and looked at me “Still won’t cave Y/L/N. Fine. We’ll do it this time your way.” he said while taking off his sweat shorts and boxers and running his hard dick on my entrance, teasing. “But I promise you, next time, you’ll be the one begging on her knees, kukolka” God, I love when he throws Russian words like that. He noticed my reaction to this Russian word as I moaned at the sound of it and opened my legs more for him. He smirked and held my legs and wrapped them around his waist while adjusting himself at my entrance. “Я собираюсь трахнуть тебя так сильно. что ты не сможешь ходить несколько дней.” He said while pushing his full length inside me as I screamed his name so loud, he even put his hand on my mouth. His Russian accent, his full length inside my wet cunt, his groans in my ear, his messy hair, his slight beard tingling my neck, his neck kisses, all of these things happening at the same time making me lose my mind. If I’m not losing it from the dark hold, then I’ll lose it because of Bucky Barnes. He’s my karma.

He kept thrusting slowly at first, trying to adjust himself inside me while stretching my insides and making me get adjusted to his length. I don’t know if I should focus more on how our bodies are connected or on how he just told me he’d fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to walk for days in Russian. Gosh, I didn’t know how much I needed him until now. “You don’t know how much I’ve been dreaming of this moment, babydoll,” he said between his groans while thrusting slowly and making eye contact. “I know Bucky, I know” I moaned while he kept thrusting as he locked our lips together. This kiss felt different than the ones before, this one felt more passionate and genuine, and it wasn’t lustful. He broke the kiss while looking me in the eyes “I’m still a man of my word Y/N, try to be quiet sweetheart.” He said while holding both of my hands with his right hand and lifting them above my head.

Next thing I know, with my hands tied together with his right hand and his metal left hand around my throat, his pace and thrusts grew faster and harder as it felt like he was on a time mission and he have to finish the job fast. I can’t put my mind around how I am such a moaning mess right now. With this fast pace and hard thrusts, his lengths kept hitting my g spot rapidly and I felt the knot in my stomach kept tightening and getting closer on edge. Another person’s thoughts broke mine and Bucky’s moans as I felt a presence on the same floor getting closer to my room. My eyes widened and I stopped Bucky quickly by flipping us over so now I’m on top and he’s on bed. He held my waist as his penis is still buried inside me and I placed my finger on my mouth singling him to keep quiet. He nodded, knowing that I’m hearing someone.

Using my power, I locked the door quietly and put a force of magic around the room that would soundproof it. Bucky watched me sitting on him moving my hands and using my magic to make sure we don’t get caught which made him grin and lick his lips. When I gave the look that ‘we’re good now’. He pulled me closer “You are a fucking goddess and I’m so lucky to get to be inside you.” He whispered in my ear while playing with my dark hair and pulling it down to my shoulders and back. “You’re so beautiful Y/N” he pulled me into another passionate kiss and unconsciously I started to grind my hips on him as if he will still inside me. We moaned in each other’s mouths, never breaking the kiss. I hate how we were almost close to releasing and got interrupted by stupid Sam as he was looking for Bucky. Little does he know, his best friend Bucky is under the witch who almost killed him, begging her to let him fuck her.

Bucky held me waist so tight stopping me from grinding on him as he continued fucking me so hard. He kept thrusting so fast inside me, never breaking eye contact. He was still underneath me, holding me in place, thrusting his dick in and out of me like I’m just a sex doll he was playing with, which turned me more on. He’s so good. He makes me feel so good. I can’t even feel myself or how loud I am now as I’m so high on the feeling of him hitting my g spot, making me vibrate and shake so hard. He knew I was coming and I knew he knew so I didn’t have to tell him. He pulled me closer so now my chest is touching his and his hands are now holding my butt cheeks and he didn’t stop thrusting hard. I buried my head in his neck. Can’t stop moaning. “That’s it, baby, that’s it doll. Cream me. Cream my cock.” His words were just what I needed at that moment to push me off the edge. I let go and came all over his cock. I can feel the heat of my cum dripping down on his cock and his inner thighs and staining the bed sheets underneath us and yet, he never stopped fucking me or thrusting hard. Making me feel overstimulated that I can’t stop cumming. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl Y/N. fuck-aghhh I’m cumm-mm”

I felt a striking hot liquid burst inside me that made me scream out his name loudly as it hit my sensitive g spot which did not help my cumming to stop. He kept thrusting until he stopped cumming but I didn’t, which made me so weak that I can’t stop screaming or moaning. It felt so good. He felt so good. I hadn’t had like this before. This is the first time someone made me feel that good or made me cum this hard. The thought and the feeling of it made me want more. Made me want him more.

He stopped thrusting and moved his hands away, resting them on the bed as it must’ve been sore. Our chests are against each other breathing hard and heavy, our bodies are still connected down there with our mixed cum covering his cock and filling my cunt. I got up slowly and was going to get off of him but did it slowly as my insides are still sensitive and any move could cause another burst out of me. “No no no no no. Come here” he pulled me down on his cock again making me moan and flipping me over so now he was on top again. “Please, doll, not yet. You fit me so good, I don’t wanna leave you yet” he said while burying his cock inside me more making me squirm beneath him.

I would be lying if I said that I don’t feel fulfilled with him inside me like that. I know I’d hate the emptiness I’ll feel when he pulls it out. But I have to stay safe. “Sorry babe, safety first,” I said while kissing him on his lips. He whined and pulled it out and yes, I do hate the emptiness. I pouted at him. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s your call not mine” he smirked then held my shirt from the ground and cleaned me up before I went to the bathroom to pee and clean myself with water. I finished and stood at the bathroom door looking at Bucky while he was laying there on my bed, naked, looking at me, smiling, looking so hot and fucked out. I smiled widely at how I’d always wanted to see him like that since the first day I laid my eyes on him. Fuck, I think I’m in love. And by running through his mind, I think he is too.

[notjustjavierpena]

I love checking in on hubby and his family. Is everything going well? Are they doing baby number 4 soon?

Nails (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Just a tiny thing for you, anon. Mwah!

Summary: Father-and-son bonding time brings a surprise. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Allusion to smut, domestic bliss, Lucas is the best boy, wholesome masculinity, javi being a good father makes you horny

Word count: 1k

Nails

The door opens and closes in the entrance hallway as you walk around with Sebastian on your arm in the kitchen, bouncing him gently as he fusses quietly. You turn to look at the clock, realizing that it has been three hours since you sent Lucas and Javier out the door with a mission to get Lucas a new pair of football boots while simultaneously letting them have some father-and-son bonding time. 

Lucas had voiced his disappointment about the lack of time spent alone with his dad when you had tucked him in last week, and thinking back on it, you had quickly realized that it had indeed been too long since Lucas had done something together with his father. So you had made plans to take Sebastian and dropped Inés off at her abuelo’s for the weekend. Tonight, you will cook your son’s favorite food (homemade burgers), watch a movie together as a family (perhaps one that you have said no to him watching in the past), and then he will be allowed to play his video games till much later than usual (even if he’ll continue playing his games underneath his blanket until he passes out).

“In here,” you call out to them, making Sebastian cry briefly until you kiss the top of his head repeatedly. His fingers curl around your hair, and you try not to swear as he tugs. You scold him in a teasing, gentle voice, “That hurts, Mister Grumpypants. Your mamá needs hair on her head, you know.”

When they enter the kitchen, you are untangling your baby’s tiny hand from your hair and making him grab at your blouse instead. You look up with a grin, “Hey you.”

Javier walks up to kiss you before kissing Sebastian’s head too, “Hola, bebito. Y mi amor. (Hello, little baby. And my love)”

“Did you have fun?” You ask, resting Sebastian on your arm to hold out your other hand for Lucas. However, your son hesitates to move across the kitchen floor and it makes you raise a brow. What exactly has happened on their trip?

Javier walks back to Lucas, crouching down to rest his own forehead against his son’s. They share a look, and Javier whispers something you can’t hear. 

“Está bien, mijo (It's okay, my son),” he says softly afterward, turns his body towards you, “Lucas has something he wants to show you.”

“What is it, sweetie?” You shift Sebastian a little more until he sits on your hip. You hold out your hand a little more insistently and finally, Lucas gives in and walks up to you. He places his hand in yours. 

“Lucas wanted to get his nails done,” Javier says after a moment of silence. You look down to see that Lucas’ nails are bright pink and shiny with topcoat nail polish. Your son’s demeanor is flustered. 

“Lucas! These are beautiful,” you say without hesitation, “Look at them! All the boys at soccer practice will be jealous.”

Lucas lights up at the compliment, seemingly not having expected instant support from his mother. You can safely say that you mean every word.

Javier continues, “So we had Lucas’ nails done before the boots. The woman at the shoe shop had a lot to say but I told her to mind her fucking business.”

“Javi!” You exclaim at the swearing. 

“Dad, it was okay,” Lucas reassures, clearly shocked too. He lets go of you to scold his father, “Mom says we can’t say that word.”

“Mom says a lot of things,” he adds with a smirk, “What if I told you that I’ll allow you to say it once tonight?”

“Really?” Lucas looks back at you for confirmation 

“Absolutely not,” you reply with a roll of your eyes at your husband who only grins, “Daddy speaks in tongues. He is in trouble for saying that word.”

“Am I?” Javier suggests something with a glint in his eyes, something that goes over Lucas’ head. He ruffles Lucas’ hair, and the boy immediately tries flattering it again. 

“Did anything else happen?” You ask, letting Sebastian grab at your finger when he starts searching for your hair again. You think he might be hungry soon.

“Well, after that bullsh—“ Javier stops himself as you give him a look, “—nonsense, we went back to the salon and I got my nails done too.”

You spot that Javier has gotten his nails painted red. It suits his skin tone extremely well. Lucas beams beside him and they hold out their hands together. 

“Maybe I’ll forgive you for swearing,” you say, nodding towards their painted nails, “They just look so good.”

“Are you mad at me for getting pink?” Lucas asks suddenly. 

Without a shred of hesitation, you shake your head, “Are you kidding? Pink is one of my favorite colors, baby. It looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you,” he replies shyly. 

“I told you it was the right choice, kiddo, they look fantastic. No one can deny it,” Javier says and places a hand on his boy’s shoulder. Lucas leans into his father’s touch but then jumps as he remembers something.

“Mom! I need to show you my new shoes!” He nearly shouts, excitement bubbling up in his voice. He runs off to get the bag, “They’re blue!”

You don’t manage to answer before he is gone from the room. It makes you seize the opportunity to speak freely with your husband, “Javier F. Peña.”

“Yes, Mrs. Peña?” Javier hums with his mischievous smile. 

“If you don’t put baby number four in me tonight,” you begin, closing the distance between you, “I might go fucking insane.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[ganondoodle]

(while i am crumbling into pieces from cramp pain)

back when they announced the totk masterworks book i said i wasnt happy about it bc it would either

prove they thought all this was good from the start and everything went as planned

show us that they had unbelievable better ideas and plans but for some unknow reason scrapped it all

as it stands now with the concepts i have seen ... they somehow did both, some things seemed to have been planned fro mthe start (the whole focus on sonau/zonai stuff for example, which i personally just dont like bc i liked them better as an unkown mystery you never get to meet) and other stuff (like ganondorfs concepts, or the infinitely cooler castle in the sky esque concepts for the sky islands, instead of some nonsensical, meaningless little stone crumbs) was much, much more interesting initially (together with the interviews that said they initially planned to have the battery be a magic meter and make the sonau more magic than tech- but then decided to build their stuff around modern electrical devices just so players would immediately know what it was an what it would do -why????? thats so boring?? and unecessary ?? and they still give you tutorials for it anyway, multiple times??!!- for some ungodly reason)

it makes me more and more sure that this game, that took 6 years to make with most assets already being there (the same time that botw took to make?????????), went through a similar development hell as that one final fantasy game did where the director decided to make it an entirely different game every few weeks bc he saw something cool in another game-

its the only thing that makes sense to me, why else would it be so weirdly ... unfinished, its full of grand ideas badly executed, or like i said in a previous post, like an alpha build (weird! did someone in charge also see cool stuff every few months and decide they wanted it in there too no matter what so everyone had to scramble to try and put it in making the whole jenga tower fall over and over??), just to test how far you can push things, with placeholders everywhere, the same cutscene pasted in where another should be and a placeholder reason to get players to go soemwhere (fake zelda) and rough ideas for puzzles etc, that was never finished, jsut highly polished (in looks, sounds and presentation) in hopes of it being 'good enough' or players not noticing (like, take the underground for example, the idea itself is fantastic and cool as fuck, but its feels like an idea that was never finished and just barely fileld with some things to try and cover up the fact that it was never done, like a statue that wasnt done being carved but ran out of time so they painted it anyway- take the base map and invert it, put some easily accessible points of jumping down into it in random spots to test if the game can handle it- no time left to actually get that idea anywhere more specific and well thought out/put together, so its left like that, put the same texture everywhere, barely modified copies of the same enemies, and some little reward spots that make no sense, modelling three types of trees and an enemy camp is way quicker to do than actually making an entire new map (they didnt have to make it the same size btw, just make it big but unique caves, put the gravity effect down there in enclosed spaces! makes it less weird to have randomly happen in the sky! etc) but its there!! its in the game and if they are lucky most players wont go down there enough to notice how meaningless and unfinished it all is)

knowing they would most likely never admit to it though, probably bc of their reputation, is just addign to the frustrations i have with it :I

(i just hate to not know the reason for things, if the devs, who are usually the ones being worked to the bone for things they know arent good, where put through that bc some executive big shot threw their tables around every so often or neglected their project bc they wanted to focus on something else first ... id like to know, i dont enjoy making up these conspiracy (?) theories .......... but i cant shake this feeling, its jsut makes no sense)

[gvnvks]

zb1 giving you partner privileges … !

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: mori by dawid podsiadlo (its in polish but u gotta listen to it fr)

> note: i started my exams today … two more to go !!

김 jiwoong.

THE PRIVILEGE IS REAL

im being so fr 😭

when literally anyone tries to take something from him, JUST BORROW FOR A SEC he immediately turns D:

except when its you

you could take (over) this mans whole life (you already did) and he wouldn’t even complain

hes THAT whipped

girl TRUST ☠️

“hey jiwoong, i wondered if i could borrow your charger for a sec, mine just stopped wor-“ rickys sentence got cut short by jiwoongs whine

HOMEBOY SNATCHED THAT CHARGER AWAY FROM HIM

“jiwoong, my sweet !! i thought i could use your laptop. i need to get some work done real quick”

jiwoong immediately gives u the laptop no hesitations

trust me if he could give you his all time life savings along with that laptop HE WOULD

(pls do i kinda need money 💯)

“can i use ur cologne jiwoong pls” “no”

BUT IF ITS YOU

“hey jiwoong!! i thought your cologne smelt really nice and wondered if i could spray a little on myself too!!”

shows u all colognes he has ever bought

EVEN THE EMPTY BOTTLES

“u can choose. the one i used today is this one :D”

later gives u like 2-3 of his STILL FULL colognes that you liked the smell of cause “i dont need that many anyways��

장 hao.

he’s serious about his sleeping

trust me.

he gets so mad when someone disturbs him in his slumber

and he’s also very difficult to wake up 😭

seriously

“hao u really should wake up…”

*snores*

“hao pls we have a schedule in 30 minutes”

*snores*

jiwoong you should just give up atp 🧍🏻‍♀️

“literally wake up what the fuck”

and let me tell y’all

when someone other than you miraculously manages to wake his ass up

he’ll just straight up yell at them

“SHUT UP” yes throw that pillow hao ‼️

but you

your voice has something that immediately wakes him up in his best mood

rainbows around his head and allat yk yk

every time when it’s you waking him up TRUST ME you’ll never see a morning pout on his face

you could literally beat his ass awake and he’d have nothing against it ☠️

he gets all soft and allat … yeah cute babe hao

his members r fucking confused cause what he so whipped for

can u see the what the fuck expression on jiwoongs face ??

HE JUST SIGHS

HE OFFICIALLY GAVE UP YALL

he’s in love like that

giving you privileges LIKE THAT …

also his morning i love yous … hi I need a bf quick

he’s a 10/10 boyfriend btw 💋

성 hanbin.

the amount of privilege you get as hanbins partner …

he literally pays for your every single thing

u saw that new pretty skirt while window shopping ??

“honey, want me to buy it for you?”

no matter your answer he in fact always does buy it

ur on a date in that cute new caffe ??

“hey, choose what you want. ill pay.”

SO HOT 💔

“hanbin !! this necklace is pretty, isn’t it ??”

“yeah, pretty neat” and the necklace is at your door 2 days later

basically your human wallet

of course its not like u demand from him to pay for you, he just does

and hanbin really enjoys buying you things and making you happy btw ‼️

cute

but when it’s his members 😭

oh hell naw he ain’t having it

“hanbin could you pls pay for me I forgot my wallet”

AND HE JUST GLARES

sighs

and sometimes SOMETIMES he does pay for his members but it’s like

once in a blue moon literally

“hanbin do you maybe want to buy me that new, cool game (whatever games he fucking plays) ??” GYUVIN BABE YOU KNOW THE ANSWER

“no” LMAOO

“oh no !! i ran out of money on apple pay …” you just wanted to buy keys on subway surfers 😕

hanbin IMMEDIATELY charges your apple pay with … a lot of money. you can buy a lot of keys now. are you happy.

GYUVIN SEES IT ALL AND IS OFFENDED ☠️

석 matthew.

i get a feeling that as long as matthew enjoys physical affection, he’s not that big on hair touching ?? like yk

he probably won’t let his members touch his hair very often

i dont know i just feel like he wouldn’t like it

“matthew, u got something on your hair” gunwook tries to pick whatever shit landed on his head

MATTHEW GRASPS HIS HAND HALFWAY 😭

GUNWOOK LITERALLY HISSES IN PAIN MATTHEW CHILL PLS PLs pLS

“i can do it myself” okay mr serious ?? gunwook literally didn’t ask

its not that serious, it was never that serious 💯

BUT WHEN YOURE IN THE PICTURE

you really like touching his hair

it’s so soft and allat

and sometimes you just randomly place ur hand on his head

he tenses up FOR A LITTLE SECOND and then softens up cause he realizes it’s you

SO CUTE 💔

lets you touch it for however long you want

matthew just doesn’t mind

ALSO

when you kiss his hair while ur hand is on his head he gets all shy and covered in blush 😭

kisses u back …

can u imagine what he’d do if instead of you it was one of the boys

HED THROW HANDS I CAN FUXKING TELL

honestly i dont see matthew as an aggressive (?) type of guy but when it comes to his hair ☠️

김 taerae.

we all know taeraes fashion sense is a bit … yeah.

basically it’s kinda bad

but that boy doesn’t let ANYONE literally anyone style him

“taerae i dont think these red pants fit well with that shirt …” hao just tried to give him some advice

and taerae just ignores his words 😭

“no taerae, don’t but these shoes, they won’t go with anything”

“stfu” BYE

but you ………

of course you love your precious bf but

sometimes you just can’t stand how off his outfits look 💔

”hm taerae… i dont think this shirt fits these cargos! maybe you could wear this white one?”

changes in the blink of an eye ‼️

“do i look better, sweetheart ??”

YES YES YOU DO

he’s so cute pls

he’s ready to change his whole outfit if you ask him to

“taerae i don’t think this outfit suits a date night…”

it’s not like you demand him to change, you just simply share your opinion

WHICH HE FUCKING RESPECTS

maybe even a little too much 😭

so whipped

guess who has head over heels for you

definitely not taerae

“taerae, my sweet !! these pants have too many bright colors, don’t you think they won’t suit anything you have ??”

“oh! maybe you’re right. thank you, sweetheart”

NAH BYW

리키 ricky.

he’s so in love that the amount of privileges he gives you is fucking enormous, im fr

but we’ll focus on one

ricky never lets ANYONE go through his phone 🙏🏼

he doesn’t hide anything or sth

he just doesn’t like when people go through his things, especially without his permission

“what the fuck are you doing with my phone, yujin” in a matter of 0.5 seconds rickys phone is not in yujins hands anymore

poor boy just wanted to check the weather 💔

“hey ricky, can i check something in your phone ?? mine just died”

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, HANBIN

“no” as simple as that 😭

“oh ricky … i also wanted to check my gmail real quick but its o-“

he doesn’t let you finish and just hands you his phone

HANBIN IS OFFENDED (who wouldn’t 😭 this looks like some kind of prejudice)

oh my god how things change when it comes to you …

basically you have more access to his phone than ricky himself

sometimes it even comes to you literally using his phone all day. literally whole 24 hours 💯

AND HE DOESNT COMPLAIN AT ALL ??

like literally no complaints whatsoever. zero. none. 0. FUXKING NULL.

his members r like what the fuck because like

WHATS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THEM

yall sometimes also like to switch phones for a day

the amount of pictures you take on his phone 😭

so whipped that he deletes NONE of them ‼️🙏🏼

김 gyuvin.

yes i do know i use this theme a lot while writing for gyuvin but i just cant help leave me alone pls

okay we all know gyuvin likes gaming

but he’s real serious about that …

if you’re not (y/n) don’t even think of disturbing him while he’s gaming 😭

HED LASH OUT TRUST

“gyuvin do you want som-“ taerae can’t even finish because gyuvin starts fucking throwing hands at him

“im kinda busy yk.” yes. yes we know.

HE DOESNT EVEN LET ANYONE TOUCH HIM ?? LIKE AT ALL ☠️

oh such a discord mod he is (im joking btw..)

but if it’s you …

oh girl i envy you this kind of boyfie 😕‼️

when you’re near him while he’s gaming he’d literally play with his headset only half on

yk in case you need something from him

so cute and so hot at the same time 🧍🏻‍♀️

he’d abandon his game for you

AND IM SERIOUS WHEN I SAY ABANDON

GIRL TRUST 💯

and ..

he lets you sit on his lap too ??

oh lawd have mercy 🙏🏼

when u sit on his lap he would literally play with one hand just to rub soothing circles on your back …

pls i need a therapist 💋

박 gunwook.

gunwook really doesn’t like when someone disturbs him while he’s focused on something

i mean its kinda obvious ??

probably no one does lmao 😭

he’s ready to throw hands even if it’s something way more important than the thing he’s focused on

IM SERIOUS ONG ‼️

“gunwook, can you stop what you’re doing for a while?” jiwoong asks with a pretty serious tone

“i can’t” WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING UP FROM HIS BOOK ?

not good … 💔

jiwoong im so sorry you’re probably so done by now

but if it’s you … !!!!!

“gunwook…” you whine, feeling kinda bored and alone today

AND HE IMMEDIATELY SHIFTS HIS WHOLE ASS ATTENTION TO YOU

god, teenager in love ‼️

he doesn’t really want to abandon what he’s doing rn as gyuvin does so he just

divides the attention 💯

…

sits you on his lap

OR SOMETIMES EVEN ON HIS DESK 😭

holds you by ur waist and just simply

plants kisses all over your cheeks

do I need to say his members r kinda disappointed ?? ☠️

hi i need a cute boyfie rn 💔

한 yujin.

okay so

there’s a lot of things yujin would let you do without you noticing it’s a “privilege”

because he wouldn’t complain if others did those things too ??

i mean like … its yujin so

but when YOU do these …

he encourages u so much 😭

ong…

im so serious … ‼️

“yujin can i try your food ?? it looks so good” ricky asked waving his chopsticks at yujins face

“oh… yeah go for it, i guess” WITH THE BLANKEST STARE EVER LMAOO

PLS TRY TO SEE IT WITH UR IMAGINSTION

“yujin! can i see your necklaces? it’s so cute!”

YUJIN IS SO SO XONFUSED

“oh… well… yeah”

now imagine you doing it 😭

“can i try some of your food, yujin ??”

HIS EYES IMMEDIATELY LIGHT UP ‼️

“yes! this here is rice with chicken and sour sauce and these ones there are some fried vegetables! eat as much as you want, cutie!”

okay yujin… 😭 not THAT serious babe

“yujin, my sweet! can i see your necklace?”

SO SO IN LOVE

“of course! i can help you put it on if you want to! you’d look so good in it!”

bae is so cute

gvnvks © 2023

[growup-thatbeautiful]

always an angel (never a god)

Tags: mentions of childhood abuse, language, childhood best friends, weddings, angst

There was a time when you’d painted Jake’s fingernails. “For practice,” you explained, picking out the perfect blue to match his eyes. “So I can do my own next.” You had been sitting in his backyard, a ziplock bag of colors in between you. The grass was soft and green and dewey, just at the end of summer, and the air was ripe with the smell of the peach tree you sat under. The t-shirt you wore was probably his- even then you ended up stealing half of his clothes during last-minute sleepovers and spontaneous swims in his pool. 

Of course, he’d agreed- he always did. If anyone asked him- a football teammate or a nosy teacher- he would tell them to fuck off. Everyone knew that meant it had to do with you. He would take shit about anything except for you, they learned. 

But his dad came home early from his business trip. Jake didn’t have time to take the polish off before George Seresin saw his son’s blue nails. He didn’t care much that they matched Jake’s eyes. They ended up matching the bruises hidden across his ribs; the bruises you tended to when he snuck through your window later that night. He didn’t need to go through the window anymore, your mom knew about his “troubles at home” and he was welcome anytime, but it kept up the childlike appearance. 

He had been 13, at the time. Apparently, the nails were too much, because George stopped coming home after that. No one in the town said anything about it, and the Seresins went on like nothing changed. You knew Jake’s mom, Dolly, well enough to know that she wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking about her children, so no one ever did. You were probably the only one who ever saw Jake cry about it; it only happened once when he was the only player on his baseball team not to have a father to throw with. Dolly had searched for hours the night before to find George’s old glove, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

Jake’s older sisters, Violet and Jenny, painted your nails from that point on. You never asked Jake to do it again, and he never brought it up. You were young enough to think that it really had been the nail polish to made George leave, and Jake believed whatever you did. It would be years until you realized that it probably had more to do with the fact that George never loved Dolly, hated his children, and wanted nothing more than to drink himself sober. 

“Angel,” Jake used to call you. Because he’s always thought you’re the most beautiful person. Because it’s what Anakin called Padame, and you had loved Star Wars. Because what else was there to call an angel? When did he stop calling you angel? It couldn’t have been that long ago, right? When did you lose him for the last time? 

When he left for boot camp, you were a senior in high school. It had been unbearable. You wrote him letters sprayed with the perfume he gave you for your sixteenth birthday. It smelled like clean laundry and green grass. You thought it smelled like home. Years later, he would tell you that it did, in fact, smell like home when he was thousands of miles away from you. 

Blue eyes and sandy hair. Dirt underneath his nails and calloused hands. Electric blue skies shifting into a watercolor of purple and pink through gingham curtains at his kitchen window. Mud mixed with twigs to make witches' brew and Christmas sweaters you pretended to hate. That’s how you’ve always know him. When he came back from basic, he was the same, just different. His hair was shorter, cropped close to his head. He’s lost some weight, and the football muscle becoming leaner. Of course, he would grow the muscle back later on; he could never stand not being able to pick you up and spin you around like he did after all those football games. Ironically, his accent grew with time apart. So did his ego, but you expected that. 

The first girl he brought home was the sweetest one. Short black hair and grey eyes, like a thunderstorm. She left after one week with his family, leaving behind a heartbroken Jake. You were the one to help him through it, drinking a bottle of vodka underneath the stars on a wooden fence with barbed wire cutting Xs through the sky. Jake didn’t cry about girls, but she’d messed him up pretty badly. Bad enough for him to be honest with his sisters. Bad enough for Dolly to call your mom and have her send you over with a tray of cookies that Jake never told you he hated. Violet was kind enough to make you her hangover cure the next morning after you woke up with red eyes and a dry mouth in Jake’s bed. Nothing happened, naturally, but you never could convince Violet that. Whenever Jake was upset, it was a family affair. 

The next girls he brought home passed in a blur. As he got older, they got worse and worse. Fake, rich, and bratty. He said he loved them and they would be enchanted by his stories about flying a plane. They didn’t stick around long enough to hear about the parts of him that hurt, though. Not like you did. Maybe that’s why he can’t look at you the way he looks at them. They see the stained glass, you see the breakage it took to make it. 

You never thought it would end like this. 

An engagement ring. Shining in a Tiffany blue box, casting a kaleidoscope of color across the kitchen. A wedding veil, long and draped and crusted with diamonds at the end. White heels with tulle bows on the back. A backyard, down-to-earth wedding, despite the possibility for more. An always-present local violinist rehearsing old country love songs on the porch, a sweating pitcher of iced tea on the table beside him. 

All for her and Jake. 

Dolly’s house is buzzing with energy. Her family and his family all coming together in a chaotic mess of introductions and “how can I help?”s and “I’m good with whatever”s. Jake’s fiancé is the perfect future wife with a steady job and the desire for a big family. From the few times you’ve met her, she seems lovely, and Jake is completely enamored with her. For the first time, you see hearts in his eyes. 

You’re just here to drop off some food- it’s supposed to be family tonight. Dolly invited you, and Jennifer begged you to stay, but they both knew that it was pointless. It’s utterly selfish of you, but you can’t get over the fact that he’s getting married. A cruel part of you tells yourself that you never even tried to get his attention.

You’re meant to be in and out, but you can never say no when Dolly asks for help. You should’ve known she would have an alternative motive when she asked you to get flowers from the back of the barn- it’s been a dead patch for years. 

The sunlight peeks through the stubborn clouds, and his hair moves golden with the wind. He isn’t facing you, but he doesn’t need to for you to be able to recognize the broad expanse of his shoulders or the hanging posture of his head from the way he leans forward over the rotting wooden fence. 

If you were smarter, you would turn tail and run away. Save yourself a night of crying. But you aren’t, and, about him, you never have been. 

He doesn’t look up when he speaks before you get the chance to. “Were you planning on lookin’ or actually coming over to say hello?” 

“I wasn’t looking at you,” you defend, knowing it isn’t true. If he catches your lie, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he asks the question you’ve been dreading. 

“Why aren’t you coming tomorrow?” 

Why, you ask yourself. Why? Because you can’t stand to see Dolly embrace her like she’s a daughter. Because you don’t want to be the only one not smiling at the reception. Because you’ve loved him your whole life, and he doesn’t seem to know. Because she’s lovely and beautiful and you’re the one he used to play dress up with. 

Because you’re selfish and twisted. 

“Angel,” he says. And, no, he can’t do that. He can’t call you that now. Now, when he’s going down the one path you can’t follow. Now, when he’s pretending like he doesn’t know how you’ve loved him since he was eleven. Now, when you’re losing him. “Things don’t have to change. Right?” If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds scared. 

You do know better, though, so you know Jake never gets scared. 

“You know that’s not true,” you respond. The way his grin falls breaks your heart in two. Here you are, standing before him, bleeding out with a smile on your face. Dying and saying the tears are out of joy. “You’re going to be a husband, Jake. I can’t be in the middle of that.” 

“You’re my family,” he tries again. 

“I’m your friend,” you counter. Dolly and Violet and Jenny would disagree, and, honestly, you don’t believe it either. But it gets you through the conversation. “And I don’t think she’ll appreciate my presence. None of the others ever did.” 

“She’s not like that.” He means it, and you know it’s true. She’s been nothing but gracious and generous to you. 

“I know,” you respond quietly. “But I can’t do it. I just can’t. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

He waits a moment before he responds, his eyes looking into yours. There’s emotion in them that you aren’t used to seeing towards you. “I do.” He says it softly, and you almost don’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“I understand. Every time you’ve brought home someone, I feel what you’re feeling right now. The pain. Feeling like some part of you is being taken away.” He reaches up to cup your cheek with a gentle hand. Every part of you screams that you shouldn’t do this; you shouldn’t give him a reason to hate you for years. But you lean into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your cheek. It’s a fight not to beg for more. You do have some semblance of pride, though. 

“It doesn’t matter.” There’s a sad smile on your face and a matching one on his face. No one should look that heartbroken the day before their wedding. “It’s too late.” 

He doesn’t have to say anything; you both know it's true. With a heavy heart, you place your hand over the one cupping your face. There’s going to be a wedding band on one of those fingers tomorrow. It gives you strength to remember that.  

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done; lacing his fingers with yours only to drop his hand to his side. He accepts the gesture. He lets you go. 

It wasn’t meant to be. He has a new angel now, one that will love him for as long as she can. It’s for the best, you tell yourself as you walk away. 

Blue eyes and blond hair. A little boy with a broken heart and blue nail polish. That’s how you’ll remember him.