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sunshine-theseus · 3 months

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Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #wsl #womens soccer #arsenal fcw #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross

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shownohajimarida · 1 year

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(Magic Kaito, Vol. 1, Ch. 1: 蘇る怪盗)

(Kid the Phantom Thief Special 01: 蘇る怪盗)

(Magic Kaito 1412 Ep. 01: 蘇る怪盗KID)

Myth: 1412 always stayed faithful to the manga and the specials did ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ whenever they felt like it.

Fact: The specials liked taking the Fun road, 1412 the boring Realistic. Consider our intro to Kaito's most iconic toy. 'Golly, maybe that cardgun means there's some kinda link between Kaito and Kid'... said nobody who lives in a world where Kaito's family history, face, and first name weren't enough to blow his ID.

By the way, probably more than one of you have gotten curious about whether this is based off a real magic act, and gotten stonewalled by Google turning "cardgun" into page after page on how to buy/rent/DIY one for your next Kaitou Kid cosplay. Not to worry—we did the research for you, and turns out?

It's based on two.

youtube

This is the better-known half: pro magicians have been "scaling" cards for upwards of 200 years now, and guys like Ricky Jay became TV darlings on it. Quick, photogenic, immortalized across a shitton of movies and comic books—no notes, we stan.

Now, its companion...

youtube

"Conjurer" pistols have a pretty long history themselves—not that you'd know it from the online footage, 'cuz it's rarer than DetCo plot advancement. In fact, this was the only clip we could find using a playing card (scarves are the preferred ammo; "silk gun" gets way more hits on a search), which may speak to how most magicians consider it an amateur's geegaw, beneath the dignity of any Serious practitioner... or how they're tough as shit to film close-up without giving the whole trick away.

As you can see, these aren't meant to shoot cards so much as raise a distraction while the magician sleight-of-hands the card into something like a locked box, or a mark's back pocket. Companies apparently stopped making them decades ago—all the ones we've found online are decades-old curios being shuffled from auction to auction—but who knows? If the market saw fit to give pogs a second chance...

#Magic Kaito #Kaito Kuroba #Detective Conan #Magic Kaito 1412 #Lunar Eyes #Youtube

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sanjoongie · 1 year

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My Darling

Submission #5 for Arousal August held by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband and @taehyungisminee

☂️Pairing: Stray Kids, Jisung x Reader (f)

☂️Au/Trope: yandere trope, neighbors to lovers

☂️Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

☂️Warnings: voyeurism kink, ⚠YANDERE THEMES⚠= spying, hacking, stealing your sex toys, mentions of locking you up until you love him BEWARE, oral (f receiving), degradation kink, penetrative sex with barrier, masturbation, sex toys, anal play (f receiving), dom!reader, sub!Jisung

☂️Synopsis: one chance encounter with Jisung as you move into your new apartment begins a one sided love that turns into obsession

☂️Word Count: 1,250

☂️Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland thank you my darling betas

~🌴Previous | Arousal August Master list

Jisung was utterly hopelessly in love with you. He was blown away when you banged into him while moving in and he’s been in love with you ever since. Sure, his love could be called an obsession, you didn’t actually know his name nor that you were his neighbor, nor the hidey hole that he had dug to peer into your room.

Jisung, by some intense digging and a little rusty hacking skills, figured out that the layout to each apartment was mirrored. Which meant that the two of you shared a wall in your bedrooms. Jisung didn’t actually peer into your room, per say. He set up a tiny camera lens and the video fed into a program that he watched on the daily while he worked for his online security firm in his apartment.

At first, Jisung was just curious about you, his darling. Did you hum while you cleaned? What was your favorite color you tended to wear? Which side of the bed did you sleep on? What days did you shower? Then those thoughts got dirty when he caught footage of you masturbating. And you were not a vanilla girl--oh no. Jisung was salivating when he watched you use your egg vibrator and put it in your ass. The dildo you had? A monster tentacle thing that had a suction cup that you set up against the wall and you fucked yourself on it. The list of kinks was a long one.

Jisung was practically giddy. There wasn’t a lot Jisung said no to. He could be whatever you wanted. He was desperate to hear you whisper his name when you masturbated but you frustratingly never did. Did you not love him? Was he not good enough? Suddenly all the toys pissed him off. So he hacked your electric keypad, went into your apartment and stole them all.

He watched greedily as you were flabbergasted when all your toys were gone but what were you going to do? Were you going to report to your landlord that a thief had come into your apartment and stole all your sex toys?

Of course, who did your landlord send to fix up your electronic keypad but Jisung himself. He didn’t pay any rent while he took care of all the cyber/electronic security of the apartment building. You absolutely adored Jisung, he could tell. You laughed at all his jokes, throwing your head back and your belly laugh was adorable. When you two exchanged social media info--which Jisung already had, duh--he knew he was in a perfect position now.

The first time you called him over for a booty call, he was so excited, he was practically vibrating. He had to remember to add in ‘travel time’ so that you didn’t figure out that he was your neighbor. Jisung was so desperate to get inside you, to feel how wet and slippery you were for him. But the more nervous he was, the more it pushed his persona up of being the charming, confident security tech guy. So he let you fuck him on your bed, reverse cowgirl, where he kept his arms crossed behind his head and your hands braced on his ankles as you rode him.

But when Jisung watched the footage back, he wasn’t satisfied. What he hadn't seen was the totally bored expression on your face and the obvious hint that you had faked your orgasm. His persona had not worked. Of course it hadn't! You were his darling. You were made for him and clearly you needed his genuine self. How silly of Jisung to pretend to be someone, anyone other than himself.

So, even though it took some cajoling, Jisung convinced you to invite him over for a second booty call. He was his genuine self, smiling nervously and offering you flowers. Your disposition changed from one of discontent to hopeful.

When you took him to your bed, Jisung suggested the face-to-face position, the opposite of spooning. You looked at him quizzically after he ate you out to your first orgasm but agreed to it. Jisung ran his hand down the side of your face when he entered you and groaned loudly. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, because if felt so fucking good to finally be inside of you.

“Are you okay?” Your melodic voice asked.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whimpered.

You flexed your hips and Jisung gasped. “Wait, I’m not ready! Wai--” Jisung whined as you clenched down on him.

“Something wrong?” You purred this time and Jisung shivered. He knew it. All he had to do was act like his true self and you would thrive.

“Your pussy is so good to me,” Jisung babbled, “I can barely--hold off--”

“Aw,” You said in a degrading voice, “You gonna nut inside of me just being in there?”

Jisung’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. “No,” He said with a frown.

You began to wave your hips, moving Jisung in and out of you and Jisung cried out. “Please!”

“Are you even going to make it before I come?” You tsked.

Jisung’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, well aware of how you didn’t come the first time you two had sex. “You have to come before me.”

You chuckled. “Is that a fact?”

Jisung put on a face of determination, which you found cute. “I can do it.”

Jisung gasped and groaned as you set the pace, enjoying the feel of his dick moving in and out of your pussy. His gaze never left your face as he continued to pet and stroke your head, like he had longed to do since the first day he found you masturbating. The image of you holding the back of your thighs, your legs spread and the silicone strap trailing from your anus took him by surprise and he almost came.

“I’m close, Jisung, just hold on a bit longer,” You encouraged him.

“I can do it,” Jisung repeated again and again, trying not to buck into your warmth and speed up his orgasm.

You watched with amusement as Jisung stopped thinking and just focused on your pussy. He was a babbling mess, his mouth never stopped running, but all his words were about your pussy. Drool cutely came out the corners of his mouth and tiny uh uh uh’s as you searched out your own release. You came quietly, too used to masturbating in the quietness of your room. Jisung was able to watch as your eyebrows furrowed and your feet went to points but you, alas, still didn’t say his name.

True to his word, he didn’t come until you had your orgasm. Jisung let out a sigh of content and literally nutted as soon as he felt your pussy walls flutter around his sensitive cock. He cried out with a desperate noise. He unloaded in the condom that you insisted he wear. He wished you had let him fuck you raw. Nothing like a creampie to claim a darling.

“That’s so much better than masturbating to your masturbating,” Jisung sighed. “Still not going to return your toys though. Haven’t heard you say my name while you came.”

“...what?!” You said in surprise.

Oops, the cat was out of the bag now. Luckily he had complete control over your electronic lock. Nothing a few hours of tying you up and convincing you he loved you utterly and completely wouldn’t fix. He hoped.

~🌴Previous | Arousal August Master list

honorary jisung tag: @kwanisms

#arousalaugust #cultofdionysusnet #han jisung smut #topaz's work #arousal august event #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz jisung smut #han smut #han jisung x reader #➸skz

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webkinztournament · 6 months

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just found this blog and HI HELLO???? I STARTED A QUEST ON MAKING EVERY WEBKINZ INTO AN OC LIKE LAST YEAR AND I DON'T OWN THEM ALL ON TOP OF MANY BEING GIVEN AWAY BECAUSE I WAS A CHILD WHO DIDN'T KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THOSE STUFFIES WERE!!!! wanted to get some Tumblr Pros who I'm sure owed some webkinz before to see if they could help out with how they played with their own webkinz,

I was HORRIBLY consistent (my whimsical dragon webkinz dated/married most if not ALL the guy dragons my older sibling owned who were also webkinz; she's settled down now with a Very Pretty Splash Dragon who was her bestie since Getting) so I was wondering if they might be able to share their webkinz childhood- or just silly gameplay from their childhood- for this oddness?/nfaa

(I have a LIST so far on everything and dynamics but I know my older sibling and I did NOT have enough to cover everything until 2015 when we stopped seeing them in Cracker Barrel, but I can recognize that I do NOT have 1000% brain power to cover making everyone as fully fledged as I would have as a child locked up in my bedroom playing with the stuffies without anyone else to assist the cotton candy bunny trying to convince jelly bean puppy and cherry soda puppy that they needed to maim the pink horse.)

I meant to respond to this and then I forgor. I'm trying to give my Webkinz more personality now as an adult, and it is a struggle even though I still have them all. I probably give my Webkinz 1000x more love and appreciation as an adult then I did as a kid, online game included. As a child, I played with my Webkinz plushes here and there, but I never developed strong personalities or storylines for them, or any of my plushes for that matter. I had many unnamed stuffed animals. All of my brain power for that got dedicated to my Littlest Pet Shop toys in a similar way to your Webkinz, albeit in a less violent way.

I had over 80 LPS animals and I used to remember all of their names, and most of them had personalities, some had jobs, adopted kids, had their own wallets and handmade cash, storage spaces rented under their names, and some had entire families and marriages. They would go through things like lawsuits, divorce, opening a family business, putting on plays, and so on. I think the absolute peak of their lore was when the king of the kingdom, King Fluffy the Hamster, divorced Queen Booker the Scottish terrier (owned by my sister) when my sister moved out of my bedroom into her own. He then remarried a supermodel cat named Princess. This made my younger sister unreasonably angry.

#asks #honeycombed-beloved #Webkinz #LPS #Littlest Pet Shop #Skell speaks #RIP pink horse #If you have more questions feel free to ask #I just have no Webkinz stories in particular sadly #Also it's really funny getting called a Tumblr pro #This blog has only like 500 something followers and I've barely been here long #I only got super interested in Webkinz again like a year ago too I'm hardly an expert or a notable figure

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wonusite · 10 months

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YESSSSSSS👏🏻 ALL RIGHTY stay with me here cause this one is gonna be long (im sorry) (im…… not) (edit: i checked and this was 853 words. i take it back. i actually am sorry😭)

in my mind, it all starts Very Unserious, with him going off on a sex tangent one lazy afternoon and he ends up talking about putting it in your butt. without skipping a beat, you tell him ‘hey, i’ll let you if you let me’, expecting him to cringe and say never mind — and at first he thinks you’re kidding, because you’re still watching the video on your phone and lifting a handful of chips to your mouth, but he tests the waters and says ‘all right, bet.’ even goes as far as to make you pinky-swear you’re happy with this, because now he’s got it in his head………….. yeeeeah, he kinda definitely wants to try it.

but even after the conversation and after you end up shopping for toys online together to find something he’s comfortable with, you’re still convinced he’s gonna back out. which is fine!!! but you can’t deny that the idea of it has been living rent free in your mind, too. regardless, you try to stay on the fence until it actually happens — right up until you’ve got him laid out on your bed with a pillow under his hips and you’re stretching him out to be able to take the toy, and he is babbling. in terms of sanity? he has no sanity. it’s gone. he’s gone. you’ve only given him two of your fingers so far and he’s having to grip his cock with one hand just to relieve a tiny bit of the agony from from how hard he is. the other is about .2 seconds away from ripping the pillowcase with how he’s got it balled up in his fist. gone, gone, gone.

‘you— you promised’ he pants as you graze over his sweet spot and his hips jerk up into nothing. his cock is dribbling precum, he’s more flushed than you’ve ever seen him, his eyes are so tightly shut he’s seeing colours not even on the human visibility spectrum. ‘you said you’d fuck— fuck… fuck me good— you’re not gonna let me down, right babe?’ he can barely get his words out, and on one hand it’s cute, but on the other… ugh. vernon and his smart fucking mouth.

cause, obviously he thinks he’s ready to take the strap, and who are you to deny him, right? you decided not go for anything too big for the first time, just to air on the side of caution, so you think if you take it slow, sure, he’ll be okay. you lube it up, readjusting his pillow so you can get into position and lightly press against his hole. and just the feeling of the head of it against him is enough to make his cock twitch, the intrusion so delicious his mouth is already watering. you slowly push your hips towards him, watching his face to gauge your speed (just like he does with you<3), easing in and out for the first minute or so to let him adjust.

and when you start fucking into him for real, he abandons holding his cock altogether. he clings to you, instead, holding your forearms first, then your biceps, then pulling you down so he can wrap his arms all the way around you. as you move, the combination of you pressing into his sweet spot over and over and occasionally brushing against his length makes him suddenly understand why you sometimes bite his neck and shoulders when you’re together like this, cause the urge to do it to you is STRONG and… like, of course he gives into it. he can’t stop, actually. even when he comes without you deliberately touching his cock and he makes a mess of both of your stomachs (it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen). especially when you keep fucking him until he goes cross-eyed and has to whimper that it’s too much. he only stops when you slowly pull out and away, watching him quiver as you start to wipe you both clean with some tissues, before totally indulging him with all the love and affection, ever. you’ll wash his hair for him in the shower, too, because he’s gone completely fucking boneless. he’s earned it. he was such a good boy <3

and in the morning, even though he’s fucking sore and so, so achy, he’ll still wake you up with little pecks to your neck where he left all those love bites. he’ll still kiss his way down your body as you slowly wake up, until he’s beneath the comforter between your thighs, mumbling about how he didn’t get to make you feel good, and he really really wants to. he’ll still eat you out for breakfast, and then again for lunch, and then again for dinner. just so you know how much he loves you for how good you were to him last night!!!

(he’s not really even that bothered about getting to do it back. it’s a little selfish, honestly, because the only thing he does care about is making sure that isn’t gonna be be the last time you fuck him<3)

idk nalani. i think i have very healthy and normal feelings about it, as im sure you can tell. i’m perfectly fine. and good. and uh. normal 🫠 - 🧸 x

#YOU ATE #JUST LIKE I KNEW YOU WOULD #FUCK THIS SO AJSBHSHENOSMS #GONNA NEED A TWO BUSINESS DAYS TO RECOVER #OMFGGGG #🧸 nonny

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faghubby · 2 years

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FAGGOT EXPOSED

The motel clerk could tell I was nervous as I got a room. He asked twice if I was OK. I just nodded and took the key. Once I got in the room I stripped . Knowing I would chicken out if I stayed dressed. A moment later a knock at the door.

"Who is it" I sang out.

"Open the door bitch" I heard as a reply I ran to open it hoping he wouldn't say another word. He pushed past me. He smelled of whiskey. He looked around then back at me. I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans. He looked just like his pics. About 60 not in bad shape but a few extra pounds. He let his jeans fall he wore no underwear. I knew what he wanted we had discussed it in detail but now I was here. Standing in a pink leotard and stockings. He was growing impatient.

"Now faggot" he said he sat on the edge of the bed. I dropped to my knees and started to lick and suck his cock. It was alot thicker then mine . My hand wrapping around it. And longer he had told me he was 6 and 1/2 inches and 1 1/4 thick. But it seemed huge as I tried to stuff it down my throat. My 4 inches throbbing as I did. I had sucked a cock when I was 14. But blew it off as a kid thing. Now 45 years later I was on my knees with a cock in my mouth.

I had met John online. He told me he liked little sissy faggots. He lived 100 miles away and after months we decided to meet. I was married to a wonderful woman for 25 years and had two children in college. But had been dressing up in woman's things since I was 10. I worked his cock the nerves calm now as I wanted to please him. I listened to his moans and grunts and knew he was enjoying it.

"I am going to cum" he told me after about 10 minutes. I still had not decided to let him cum in my mouth or not. When he started to cum. I held the tip in.my mouth and sucked his sperm down my throat.

"OH yeah, such a good fag" he said. I made sure to get it all. He had not cum that much.

We had left it open about sex. That is to say he had agreed to let me give him head. Even though we had discussed more. I wanted him too. I had shaved all my body hair off. Having no idea what I would tell Cindy (my wife) I had also made sure I was clean for him. And had bought lube in my bag. John used the bathroom. When he returned he looked me over..

"Stay right here, I be back" he told me. And took the room key and left. About 20 minutes later he returned with a bottle of whiskey. He had me bend over the table in the room. He unsnapped the leotard .

"I have lube in my bag" I told him he allowed me to get it. I lubed his cock and my ass. As he watched. Then bent over the table again when he was hard. He knew I had used my wife's toy but I was a virgin. He didn't seem to care instead he shoved his cock balls deep once the head was in. He fucked me hard and fast.

"Your so tight, I will fix that" he informed me. After a minute or so I felt myself cum shooting all over the bed. No one had even touched me. John didn't even notice just kept fucking me. John seemed to last forever. When he finally gunted and came in my ass. I laid on the bed recovering while John got dressed. As he went to leave there was a knock on the door. He opened it.

"Who are you? Where is Paul? This room is registered to my fucking cheating husband" I heard Cathy yelling" I jumped up panicked and ran to the door. Still in a pink leotard with my bottom unsnapped. John laughed and pushed past Cathy. Cathy pushed into the room still looking for the whore. Then looked at me.

"What the fuck are you" then it all clicked as I quickly closed the door. "You gay shit "she laughed. Finding it all so funny.

"I can explain" I started. She controlled her laughter

"OK, go ahead" she said barely holding back another cackle of laughter. "I love the outfit by the way" she added and burst out laughing again. I tried to resnap the leotard like somehow that would make it better.

"OH yes let's get you all dolled up again, we could go to the bar and find some desperate men. Or did you rent this room by the hour?" Again she burst out laughing then as if she remembered something she pulled out her phone and took pictures.

"Cathy please don't" I whined

"I think you like it" she motioned to my growing bulge

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, Cathy answered it. Swinging then door wide so anyone could see me. It was the front desk clerk.

"Sorry, we got a noise complaint" he told her. She stepped to one side. "Sorry my husband was crying he doesn't have another cock to suck" she told him. Then she lowered her voice, and whispered something to him he stepped inside and closed the door after checking the hallway.

"Frank this is my husband" she motioned to me.

"I think Frank would love his cock sucked" she told me. He stepped towards me.

"Let's go suck his cock" my wife said her voice much lower now. I stepped closer and he pushed me to my knees. As I started to fish out his cock. Cathy smiled and left the room. Frank didn't say another word as I sucked his 5 and half inch cock. He had incredible stamina and my jaw hurt by then time he pulled out and shot his load all over my face. Buy the time i finished Cathy was gone. The clerk left. I showered and got dressed in my man clothes. Going commando to avoid anything girlie.

When I got home I noticed my friend Pete truck in the driveway. I went to go inside and the door was bolted. I knocked but no answer. I went to the back door and when inside. I heard Pete and Cathy upstairs as I climbed the stairs it was clear they where having sex. I sat on the stairs and listened to my wife make noises she never made with me.

"That was amazing I am going to need that cock of yours alot" I heard Cathy tell him.

"Anytime" I heard him laugh.

"Well I will need it often since I know Paul is a faggot" Cathy laughed. I snuck back downstairs and hid as Pete left. Then made my way back upstairs.

"Faggot! Your home" Cathy giggled. She was naked there was a hickey on her breast. She went to get up. Then paused.

"Do you want to eat Pete's cum out of me, or have you had enough today?" She smiled. "Of course you havent, come taste your friends sperm" she spread her legs. This whole thing turned me on more then it should have. Cathy reached out grabbed my arm and pulled me to her. I did as she suggested and started to lick my friends cum from her.

"You can't get enough, oh deeper Pete has a real cock" she told me. Only after I had made her cum did she explain I should move into the basement bedroom. So she could have lovers spend the night.

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eva-knits12 · 2 months

Text

Baby Shower with CE characters

Steve Rogers

Pepper, Natasha, Wanda, Hope, and Maria are throwing you a baby shower.

It's a nice, October day, and they've already set up the courtyard at the Tower.

It's 75 degrees, so the shower is being held before it gets even colder.

They had the food catered, and even got a cake.

The gift table is amazing, and the food and cake look beautiful.

You're wearing a yellow maternity dress with polka dots because you and Steve know the gender, but you both don't want to give anything away.

Everyone that you invited brings a gift from the registry from Target, Macy's, and Pottery Barn Kids.

Lunch is grilled chicken with salad and rolls.

You and Steve wait to cut the cake for the gender reveal.

You'll open the presents after the cake is served, and you and Steve do the gender reveal.

Everyone plays baby bingo, and guesses the gender.

Most of the votes are blue for boy.

Your cake has Steve's shield on it.

When you and Steve cut into the cake, you get the first slice, and reveal the blue interior of the cake.

It's a boy!

The waiters hand everyone blue goody bags.

The cake is served with some ice cream, if requested.

You and Steve open the gifts.

You receive a lot of things and toys for James, including books.

You and Steve spend the night in the Tower.

You and Steve rent a U-Haul so that you can take all the gifts back home to the lake house, and put them in James' nursery.

Four months later, you give birth to James.

Steve and you fall in love even more.

Ransom Drysdale

You and Ransom are excited!

Ransom more so, because he loves your mom and your aunts.

They planned a baby shower for you.

You and Ransom are expecting twins!

The shower is set up so that it's both blue and pink!

Ransom has you in the wheelchair, because of your MS.

It makes times like this difficult, but it's worth it.

You've always wanted to be a mom, and Ransom wanted to be a dad.

Well, a different dad than Richard.

Ransom vowed to be a hands-on dad when he found out that you were pregnant.

He's been no contact with Linda and Richard ever since that fateful dinner a few years ago.

They weren't invited, so Ransom feels like a weight is lifted off his shoulder.

He talks to your belly, rubs cocoa butter on your belly, and even reads to your belly.

He even plays music to your belly-everything from classical to the Beatles to jazz to '90's alternative.

His face lights up when he feels his son and his daughter move and respond to not only his voice, music, and even your voice.

Harlan has arrived, and well, his gift are two silver rattles that you and Ransom will have engraved with the twins' names on them when they are born.

The cake is exquisite, and so is the lunch.

The shower is held a local tea house, and it's set up and looks beautiful.

The staff really went all out, and organized everything, even a gift table, scones on every table, cookies, and a charcuterie board at each table.

You registered at Target, Neiman Marcus, Pottery Barn Kids, Macy's, Nordstrom's, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Amazon.

You get a lot of gifts, and Ransom and you stuff what you can into your Lexus.

Your dad rents a truck to take the rest home because you have a lot of stuff.

With twins, it's double of everything, including a crib, high chairs, diapers, clothes, and and everything that a baby would need times two!

Everyone gets pink and blue goody bags.

You fall asleep when you get home because the shower and the day just wore you and Ransom out.

Andy Barber

Your baby shower is held in the private room of a local Italian place.

Your wearing a lavender maternity dress with a hand knit lavender cardigan.

Your mom, aunts, cousins, and friends from work all threw you the baby shower.

You're registered at Target, Macy's, Pottery Barn Kids, and Amazon.

The dinner is various pastas set up buffet style along with meatballs, salad, garlic bread, even appetizers.

You have some spaghetti with meatballs and Andy has some, too.

You both have some salad and garlic bread.

The gift table is amazing.

You and Andy do the gender reveal by opening a pinata that is full of pink confetti.

You and Andy cut the cake, but steal a kiss before you both cut the cake.

The cake has pink on the inside, with a white layer in the middle.

The cake is served, and everyone has a good time.

Everyone leaves with pink goody bags.

The bags have a small candle where the label turns pink when it's heat activated, some seeds to grow a garden because they fit in with the theme of Joy's nursery. There's even pink hard candies, and some pink and silver Hershey's kisses.

You and Andy have so much to take back and to celebrate.

Your dad helps you and Andy bring back all of the gifts.

You and Andy crash in bed because you're both exhausted.

Two months later, Joy is born.

Jake Jensen

You and Jake decide on a theme.

You decide on a nice, princess theme, since that's the theme for the nursery.

You and Jake had to put princesses on the invitations.

His mom and his sister threw you the baby shower at your house.

Your mom offered to help, and split the cost.

The shower is hosted at your mother-in-law's house.

You're registered at Target, Amazon, Macy's, Pottery Barn Kids, and even Barnes and Noble.

The lunch is catered, and the cake is even more amazing because it was from a local bakery.

You worked with an even planner, named Katie, who helped make this shower possible.

It's amazing because she's not only your neighbor, she was there for you when you and Jake were trying to conceive, and she listened to your frustrations and didn't judge you for battling infertility.

It turned out she had to go through IVF because she battled infertility, and got three kids out of it.

She also has endometriosis and PCOS on top of that.

She's been a huge part of your support system.

You get a lot of stuff, double of everything.

The gender reveal is amazing.

The cake is pink on the inside, with chocolate and raspberries in the layers.

The lunch is just fried chicken with all the sides.

You and Jake make out like a bandit.

Jake and you don't worry about transport, but putting together some of the items, like the baby gyms, high chairs, the double stroller that both your parents and his parents split the cost on is a whole different story.

You're wearing a cute, pink maternity dress and Jake is wearing a pink button down.

The afternoon just flies by.

It's amazing.

You and Jake fall in love even more, knowing that you're two beautiful girls will be here in a few more months.

Of course, Jake is your sweet, loving, adorable, adorkable, goofball.

You're his honey bun.

Colin Shea

It's an amazing day.

It's November, and it's your birthday.

You have an ob/gyn appointment, and you and Colin recently discovered that you're having a girl.

Colin proposed to you in the kitchen of your new house that morning.

You also have the flu, but didn't realize that you were sick.

When you finally arrive at Esther's house, she organized a baby shower and a birthday party for you.

You've registered at Target, Macy's, Pottery Barn Kids, and Amazon.

You also get several birthday presents, even though the day is about your baby girl than you.

Colin feeds you soup when you get home, and won't leave your side.

He entertains you with movies, singing to you, playing his guitar for you, even snuggling you and sleeping with you.

When Colin starts to sing and play the guitar, Harper moves around in your womb, and kicks in time to Colin's guitar and singing.

Colin feels his daughter move.

You and Colin wouldn't have it any other way.

It's even more intensified when Harper is born several months later.

Johnny Storm

Your baby shower is amazing.

You're wearing a green maternity dress because you want everyone to be surprised.

His sister, Susan, is throwing the baby shower.

You have a cake with blue and white layers and white icing.

You and Johnny do the gender reveal, and he came up with a completely different idea.

But you and Susan drew the line when he wanted to launch a fire cannon with blue flames indoors.

Instead, you pop a balloon with blue confetti.

You and Johnny are registered at Target, Macy's, Pottery Barn Kids, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.

Johnny has been reading to your belly every night, and every morning.

You and Johnny both talk to your unborn son every day.

You also read to your unborn son every day.

He already takes a picture of you every day, naked, with the stats of each day written on a dry erase board.

On the day of the shower, Johnny painted "It's a boy! #teamboy" on your belly in light blue body painted.

Johnny and you are excited today.

You get a ton of gifts.

Everyone gets blue goody bags.

What's even more amazing is that your nursery feels complete, and you and Johnny fall more in love.

You and Johnny wouldn't trade this for the world.

#chris evans #chris evans characters #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #andy barber #jake jensen #colin shea #johnny storm

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athunderstryke · 4 months

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my grandparents have recently both passed away and my dad is currently remodeling their house with the intention of selling it. they lived countries and continents away so I didn't get around to visiting them all that often but from the times that I did, I remember that house and I remember that they lived there. I asked my brother, who is much older than me and spent a lot more time growing up in the house, if he is sad that the house is being changed and we may never go in it again. He hasn't been able to visit at all in the past years even though he constantly wishes he could so I thought he would be sad. But it surprised me when he said that he doesn't mind about the house, he plans to visit the graves. I realized that I did not think that way. Because to me, their memory, their soul, isn't with a rock I've never seen before. It's in my memories, in the house. It's when my grandma helped me wash and hang my laundry to dry from the apartment window, its where my grandpa would joke around and tell me he can summon rain by singing when we were walking through the hallway. Revisiting these memories, seeing the worn out wood floors, the sun bleached rugs, the china collections, and the old old tv, that would be more impactful for me in remembering them.

But all of this is different for my dad. To him, he's getting peace and closure with clearing out the house. He didn't have the best relationships with his parents, so changing the house and getting rid of it is his way of lifting the past traumas off his shoulders. In a way it was exactly the same for me here. Since my dad has been gone for years to take care of my grandparents and now fix the house, us here, my siblings and I, have been remodeling my dad's house with the intention of renting it while he's gone. This house was where I grew up. Played with my toys running all around, stuck glow in the dark stars and paper moons on my walls, etched my height into the door frame. But also, this is the house where I'd drop everything I was doing and freeze to try to hear why my parents were yelling. This was the house where the dinners would be tense. This is the house where I was lectured that I shouldn't listen to pop music. This is the house where I began to be obsessively germaphobic, because that's what my dad was. But also, this is the house I lived in when I had the most friends, the entire street were mostly kids my age and we would all play, go to the park and play lava tag, play in the mountain wilds, turn our front yards into potion shops and super hero hangouts. This was the house I bravely learned to lose my baby teeth. The house where my mom would teach me to cook and sew. But also, this was the house where my dad was always by his computer, typing away at his book or arguing with someone online about politics. The house I was homeschooled in cause real school didn't work for me. My mom tried her best but I was difficult and I would cry and yell because I just couldn't understand math. This was the house I loved and hated and would never want to live in again. So of course I wanted it remodeled, I wanted that white-ish yellow walls my dad painted when we first moved in to be gone. The beige matted carpets that never got vacuumed after me and my mom moved out completely ripped out. The lights changed, the countertops, the banisters, the front door. Change everything, replace Theseus's ship one plank at a time. We threw out old things and shoved all my dad's stuff in a storage unit. Now there are new people living there. But with so much stuff changed, I realized the memories still remained. The house looks different on the inside but the layout is still the same, the kitchen where my dad jokingly said he'd kill me if I was gay is still there, the bedroom I cried in and couldn't sleep cause I anxious about something or another. The outside is the exact same. The backyard where my dad planted trees we took care of cause he'd leave. My friends houses are still there even though every single one of them has moved away. You can change the ship's planks all you want, making it technically a different ship, but in Theseus's mind, it will always be the same ship.

Not sure what the intention of this post was. Supposed I wanted to draw parallels and underline history repeating itself in my family. Maybe for the first time in many years I am starting to understand my dad and not really hate him in my angsty teenage way. Everyone has their unique upbringing causing a butterfly affect for the rest of their lives and affecting their children. he was raised in the soviet union, his country experienced famines, money in banks was lost, he did everything he could to get his family out of there, they moved around until getting a scholarship into an American college and being able to comfortably move his family to the US and then I was born. I understand the stress he lived through, I understand that there are some things I don't understand. I understand that I won't ever forgive him for some of the things I grew up with. But I also understand that he loves me, he doesn't know how to love me, cause his love can be stressful and suffocating sometimes, but he loves me. And I am making my peace with that, I am moving on. Because even if you don't agree with someone, they have a negative effect on your mental health, and you wished they raised you better, they still deserve to be understood.

my life and circumstances may be different than yours, but I still wish my thoughts here helped you be able to make peace with your own life.

#I fix my daddy issues #poetry #personal #late night thoughts #psychoanalyzing myself #mental health #might delete this cause I usually dont like to open my heart out like this but I reckon it #might help someone who's feeling similarly about their childhood #long text

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