#Some people never stop and appreciate it…

[blog-o-meter]

sweetdreams - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: Aching for some release, Nicholas finds himself browsing a cam site and stops dead when he recognizes a familiar bedroom on one of the thumbnails.

warnings: 18+, camgirl, masturbation, exhibitionism

required listening: n/a

word count: 6,195

a/n: eek, I've been sitting on this one for a bit - I'm not even sure why. but I like it, it was fun to write LMAO also rip TikTok. I deleted the app over a year ago bc it destroyed my brain but ik lots of ppl still love that app so rip I guess. anyway lmk if you liked this one! I have a few more fics but idkkkk

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

The glow of my laptop screen on the bed illuminated the cozy pale purple walls of my bedroom. The fairy lights hanging along the fabric draping the backside of my bed added a soft warmth to the otherwise dimly lit space with a few tapered candles here and there on my nightstand and dresser to set the mood. I adjusted the camera perched on the tripod next to my desk, angling it toward my bed where the sheets were already perfectly rumpled by design.

I didn't do it because I needed the money. I always paid my bills on time — rent, utilities, student loans, cellphone, gas, insurance, and groceries — but my entire paycheck would go to just that. And no matter how much I tried to break up my checks or stagger payment dates, the same thing always happened: I never had enough money to splurge on myself. I wanted the money. So bad.

There were so many things I wanted to buy for myself, so many trips and concerts and restaurants I wanted to be able to experience, but I never could, not unless I saved up the little leftover money I’d have for myself for months and months at a time just to be able to accompany my friends to a mid-scale restaurant. It was a little embarrassing for me, frankly. I just wanted to be able to be with them during all those moments, not sitting at home bored with incredible FOMO.

That’s why I decided to start camming on the side.

I didn’t do it frequently, just when I anticipated buying something I had been wanting — like a nice pair of boots or some furniture — or wanted to go out with friends, and it wasn’t an easy decision for me to make either. I spent close to a year mulling it over, really weighing my options, and honestly, it was the only one I was comfortable enough to explore, surprisingly.

I mean, I masturbated anyway. It was in the privacy of my room with no audience, sure, but why do something for free when you could be making some money out of it? And all I had to do to hide my identity was get a second bank account, move all of the identifying pictures out of the way, buy myself a nice, sexy mask that obscured a majority of my face, and stream on an out-of-the-way cam site I was sure most of the people in my life would not be privy to.

At first, it was incredibly intimidating. My sex life was borderline nonexistent, and I was basically about to expose myself to strangers on the internet. I could barely speak during my first stream, but over time I became more comfortable with my movements and my voice — almost confident, even. But that didn’t mean I still didn’t get nervous before every stream, like now.

As I laid on my bed and pulled the black lace mask over my face, I let out a slow, steadying breath, fingers hovering over the trackpad of my laptop, the cursor teasing the ‘Go Live’ button. And then I clicked it. 

sweetdream is live.

On the other side of town, Nicholas came home exhausted, but most of all frustrated. Shooting had been absolutely brutal this week, and the constant tension in his body was driving him insane. It didn’t help that he barely had any time to go out with his friends or even entertain the girls in his DMs and maybe hook up with one of them to blow off some steam.

But he didn’t want to deal with any of that right now. He was just so exhausted; how could he possibly have the energy to even pretend to be interested in whatever conversation his friends or those girls had to say? He wanted something here, something now.

Nicholas tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and kicked off his shoes, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the fridge and reached in for a nice, cold beer before retreating to his room. The familiar solitude of his apartment felt suffocating tonight, the silence amplifying the ache in his chest and the tension coiling low in his stomach. He threw himself onto his bed, letting out a quiet groan as he reached for his laptop on the nightstand and set down his beer with a dull thud.

He hadn’t forayed into the world of internet porn in over month, but he did it like clockwork — reaching into his nightstand drawer for his wired headphones and sticking them into his MacBook’s audio jack before carefully placing the laptop over his thighs and waking it to life.

Nicholas’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as his thumb rubbed over the trackpad, opening a private window and typing in all of the familiar site names — PornHub, Xhamster, XVideos, hell, even XNXX. He scrolled for a bit on each, hoping at least one video might catch his attention and fully awaken his half-hard cock, but none of them were hitting the way he wanted — needed — tonight.

They all seemed too polished, now. Way too much makeup and studio lights. Makeup and studio lights was all he worked with on set, and the last thing he wanted was to jerk off to work. Frustrated, he closed the tabs one by one. He needed something different — something raw, something real.

He didn’t visit cam sites often, but when he did, they delivered exactly what he was looking for. Something authentic. So, without any hesitation, he clicked through his bookmarks and clicked the out-of-the-way cam site he had come across months and months ago deep in the pages of Google.

Nicholas leaned back against the headboard, the familiar homepage of the cam site loading in front of him, colorful and bright and borderline blinding, the screen illuminating his face and reflecting off his wooden headboard. A variety of thumbnails greeted him, showing live streams in progress. Women of all shapes and sizes, their expressions ranging from coy to confident, teasing the camera.

He scrolled lazily past the wall of endless thumbnails, picking up his beer and taking a lazy swig as he sifted through, trying to find someone who caught his eye. Most were the same: over-the-top angles, exaggerated expressions. They all felt…off. Too staged. Too fake. They all blurred together, until one made him stop dead in his tracks.

His thumb froze mid-scroll, and he nearly choked on his beer, setting the bottle back down on his nightstand as he stared at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed at the tiny square. His cursor hovered over the thumbnail, magnifying it just a smidge.

The thumbnail was simple — cozy lighting, a tidy bedroom with a familiar-looking duvet cover, and a girl wearing a delicate pink satin lingerie set, her face obscured by a lace mask that looked like it had been plucked right out of a Venetian mask shop during Carnival. The room in the background had pale lavender walls, warm fairy lights adorning the wall where the headboard of the bed would be, and candles flickering in the background. It was all familiar. Way too familiar.

“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, the words rumbling at the back of his throat.

He leaned closer to the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers twitched over the trackpad before he clicked, the stream loading painfully slow as the rainbow wheel spun. He held his breath, his entire body tense as he waited for the image to appear.

And when it did, his stomach dropped.

It was her.

It was me.

The shy, sweet, (Y/N) he’d known for years. The girl who blushed when someone so much as mentioned a sex scene in a movie. The same girl who stumbled over her words anytime he called me ‘baby’ in that teasing tone he so loved to use. The girl that hasn’t been on so much as a real date in the time he’s known her.

I was sitting there on his screen, laying on my side and propping myself up by the elbow, dressed in soft pink satin lingerie, my body glowing under the warm light of my bedroom as I read chat. 

Nicholas’s breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he was certain it would burst. His eyes were glued to the screen, unwilling — or unable — to look away. He leaned in closer, the reality of what he was seeing crashing into him like a freight train.

My fingers lightly traced the satin straps of my bra, my voice soft as I spoke to the camera. The black lace mask obscured the top half of my face, but there was no mistaking it — it was me. My voice, my laugh, my nervous little gestures.

“My day was fine; thank you for asking,” I sheepishly smiled as I read a comment from chat, my finger tracing down to my leg, idly trailing up and down my hip, my voice thrumming through Nicholas’s headphones loud and clear.

“What the fuck,” Nicholas whispered to himself, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. He wasn’t half-hard anymore; he was hard as a fucking rock.

The chat on my screen lit up with messages, dozens of anonymous names firing off compliments, tips, and lewd suggestions. Nicholas’s stomach churned, a mix of guilt, confusion, and something darker coiling low in his gut. 

He should have closed the tab — hell, he should’ve slammed the laptop shut and never spoken of this to anyone — but he didn’t. Instead, he turned up the volume and watched.

Nicholas’s mind raced as he stared at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. He should’ve stopped. Should’ve closed the tab. Should’ve shoved the laptop away. Hell, throw it across the room if that’s what it took to stop watching. But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand drifted lower, instinct overriding logic as his cock strained painfully against the fabric of his sweatpants.

I shifted on the bed, sitting back on my heels, the delicate pink satin stretching over my body as I leaned closer to the camera. My fingers brushed the lace of my mask before trailing down to the straps of my bra, teasing the edge.

“Let’s see,” I murmured, scanning the chat, my voice carrying a nervous lilt. “You want me to take my time tonight, huh?”

The chat box on my screen lit up with requests and donations, the little dings echoing faintly in the background. I leaned forward, my cleavage filling the frame as I adjusted the camera slightly.

“Thank you for the tip, Anonymous,” I said shyly, a smile tugging at my lips.

Nicholas’s chest tightened as his cock stirred in his jeans. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The idea of me, his quiet, unassuming friend, doing something like this was utterly surreal, utterly impossible. It was impossibly hot.

Johnny88 donated $100: take off ur bra

The moment the donation notification lit up the chat, Nicholas’s jaw clenched. His hand froze mid-motion, hovering over the waistband of his sweatpants.

$100.

The chat was eating it up, emojis flooding the stream, accompanied by crude, explicit comments urging me to follow through. I hesitated for a moment, looking at the message on my laptop screen, my expression shy but playful.

“Wow… Thank you, Johnny88,” I murmured, my voice soft but steady, betraying a nervous edge. “Guess I don’t want to disappoint, huh?”

Nicholas’s breathing deepened, his cock aching as he watched me slowly slide the straps of my bra off my shoulders, my fingers trembling slightly as they trailed over my skin. I glanced at the chat again, clearly gauging my audience’s reaction.

His stomach churned with something primal, a mix of possessiveness and desire that made his head spin. He wanted to hate himself for watching, for indulging in this, but the truth was, he was riveted. Every little movement, every shy smile, every flicker of hesitation only made it worse. And then my hands reached around my back to undo the clasp and the bra came off.

Nicholas groaned under his breath as the satin slid down my arms, revealing my bare chest to the camera. My hands instinctively moved to cover myself at first, but then, slowly, I let them drop, exposing myself completely.

I bit my lip, my hand beginning to knead at my breast, a little whimper escaping my lips as I pinched my hard nipple. “Is this what you wanted?” I asked, almost teasingly.

Nicholas’s breathing hitched, his hand clenching into a fist against the mattress as his other slowly moved to hook itself around his waistband. The sound of my voice, soft and teasing, sent a jolt straight through him. He felt like the biggest fucking pervert alive, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

My fingers teased the hem of my panties, my hand brushing over the top of my center as I sat on my knees in front of the camera, waiting for a little more donations to roll in before deciding to pull them off. 

Nicholas’s hand trembled slightly as he lifted his hips up slightly to pull down his sweatpants along with his Nike briefs to free himself, his throbbing erection springing out. He hated himself for how hard he was, for the way his body reacted to every soft, breathy sound I made, but god, he was transfixed, his eyes locked on the screen as I teased the camera, my fingers toying with the waistband of my panties.

The sound of a new donation chimed through the speakers. Another request. My eyes flicked to the laptop screen, and a shy smile curled on my lips as I read the message aloud.

“Anonymous tipped $100. Hmm…” I hesitated, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “Panties off, huh?”

Nicholas’s jaw clenched as I kneeled in front of the camera, my chest moving out of the top of the frame as the image of my panties filled the screen. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and tugged them down just enough to tease. My movements were deliberate, slow, and sensual, and Nicholas’s hand moved instinctively to wrap his pulsing length.

I slipped the panties lower, finally revealing myself completely to the camera. I maneuvered myself on the bed to pull my underwear out from under my feet before dangling it in front of the camera to show my viewers the large damp spot, quietly giggling. “God, look how wet I am already,” I whispered, more to myself than to my audience.

The chat exploded with comments. Compliments, pleas, and donations rolled in, but Nicholas barely registered them. He groaned, his hand tightening around his cock as he watched me. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with arousal as he started to stroke himself, his eyes fluttering shut before opening again. The sight of me, naked and confident, teasing the camera with that shy giggle, had him utterly captivated.

I reached for something out of frame, my trustee delicate pale pink rabbit vibrator, and settled back on the bed, glancing at the camera with a shy, almost apologetic smile. “I thought I’d… try something new tonight,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to make his cock ache.

Nicholas couldn’t help the groan that rumbled low in his throat as he watched me turn the vibrator over in my hands, inspecting it like it was new to me, even though I knew exactly what I was doing. Every movement was calculated to tease, to entice, and fuck, it was working.

His strokes quickened as I brought the toy closer to my mouth, running my tongue over the tip before sucking it gently. His eyes darkened, his breathing heavy as he imagined those soft lips of mine wrapped around him instead.

Love69 donated $50: wish that was me

“Fuck off,” Nicholas gritted his teeth at the donation, his jaw tightening as his hand worked his cock faster, the sight of me teasing the camera sending a wave of heat straight through him. The jealousy coiled low in his gut as the chat lit up with messages, strangers clamoring for my attention, showering me with tips and crude remarks.

The donation pulled a soft, breathy laugh from my lips, and I tilted my head, looking directly at the camera. “Oh, do you?” I murmured, my voice dripping with a mix of innocence and teasing. I ran my tongue along the length of the vibrator again, swirling it slowly before pulling it away, letting it hover just above my lips. “Sorry, Love. I’m imagining someone else.”

Nicholas froze, his hand gripping his cock mid-stroke as the words left my lips. The soft, teasing tone in my voice sent a shiver through his entire body, but it was the words themselves that hit him like a truck. The idea of me thinking about someone else while putting on this show, teasing, and playing for the camera — it was both maddening and painfully arousing.

His jaw clenched, and a low, guttural sound rumbled from his throat as he stroked himself harder, his frustration and desire tangling into something almost primal.

Who the fuck was I imagining?

The thought shouldn’t have mattered. This was a fantasy, an act. I was catering to an audience of strangers, faceless men who threw money at me for a show. But the way I said it — the soft lilt in my voice, the way I bit my lip, my eyes flicking to the camera with a hint of mischief — felt too real. It felt personal.

With his free hand, Nicholas reached into the front pocket of his sweatpants, fumbling to pull out his wallet. “Let’s make you talk, baby,” he whispered to himself as he pulled out his debit card with one hand, placing it between his teeth as he tossed his wallet aside.

Nicholas’s fingers trembled as he typed in his card information, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. He’d never done this before — never donated, never left any comments in chats, never tried to interact with anyone on these sites — but tonight was different. I was different. He needed to know. He needed to push.

His cursor hovered over the donation button for a moment before he clicked it, his heart pounding in his chest as he typed out his message. It wasn’t flashy or crude like the others; it was pointed, deliberate. He hit send.

NC17 donated $50: Who are you imagining, baby?

The donation notification popped up on my screen, and I froze, my eyes widening slightly behind the lace mask. I could feel the flush on my neck creep to my cheeks. Nicholas smirked, his hand wrapping around his cock again as he watched me squirm. He could tell I was thrown off, that the question had hit a little too close to home. The way I hesitated, the slight nervous laugh — it only made him harder.

I shifted on the bed, the rabbit vibrator still in my hand as I trailed it over my nipple, glancing at the chat hesitantly. “NC17, thank you,” I smiled nervously, a tiny moan escaping my lips as the vibrator worked the tip of my nipple on a low setting before dragging it down my stomach, then between my legs. “That’s a secret,” I replied breathily before smiling softly, “Funny username, though,” my voice had softened, carrying a teasing edge, but Nicholas caught the crack in it.

Nicholas’s smirk deepened, his hand moving faster along his length as he watched me squirm on screen. That crack in my voice wasn’t just from the teasing act — I  was flustered, genuinely caught off guard, and that knowledge sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

Funny username, huh? Of course, I wouldn’t recognize it. But he’d made me pause.

Nicholas’s free hand hovered over the keyboard again. His initial hesitation was gone now, replaced with something more daring, more possessive. He wanted to push further, wanted to see just how much I would let slip under the guise of anonymity.

NC17 donated $100: Spread those legs wider, baby. Does he know you think about him?

I bit my lip at the donation, my cheeks boiling hot as I obliged the viewer’s request. I spread my legs at the knees, giving the camera a perfect view of my my self. Nicholas’s breath hitched as he watched her glistening folds on full display. I let out a soft, shaky moan as I spread myself open with one hand and led the vibrator to my clit with the other. “No, he doesn’t,” I moaned as my eyes fluttered shut, my back arching against the pillows.

Nicholas groaned audibly at the sound of my voice vibrating in his ears, his hand gripping his cock with a newfound intensity as the words left my mouth. The admission echoed in his head, feeding the dark coil of desire and jealousy tightening in his chest. His strokes quickened as he watched me writhe on the screen, the vibrator pressed against my swollen clit as I let out a series of soft, breathy moans.

The possessiveness inside him surged. He couldn’t stop himself now, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way my body moved, from the way I responded to the toy teasing me mercilessly. His free hand hovered over the keyboard, his need to push me further overriding any guilt or hesitation he might have felt.

NC17 donated $100: do you know him?

I read the donation but threw my head back in pleasure before I could answer, audibly moaning at the sensation of the vibrator circling my entrance while my free hand kneaded at my breast. “Uh-huh,” I whimpered.

ilike2fuck: stretch yourself out

cheekybasstard: god ur so perfect

m1lfluvr: fuuuck

Nicholas’s breath caught as he saw me falter, my body arching on the bed as I moaned in response to the chat’s demands. His grip tightened on himself, his strokes growing more erratic as he watched the screen. The way I answered his question, breathless and soft, set his mind ablaze. The way I whimpered, the way I let the vibrator tease me, was driving him insane. He wasn’t just watching now — he was consuming me, feeding on every sound, every movement.

My hands stilled for a moment, and I reached off-screen, grabbing a small bottle of lube from my nightstand. The slick sound of it being poured into my hand sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Nicholas’s body, his cock twitching in his hand as he watched me stroke the vibrator with the jelly. “Not that I need it, but it never hurts,” I spoke quietly as I watched my hand spread the jelly over my cute toy.

“Shit,” Nicholas groaned through gritted teeth, his thumb brushing over the swollen head of his cock with every slick stroke.

His mind was racing, trying to piece my answer together. His stomach twisted with a mix of jealousy, desire, and something dangerously close to satisfaction. I knew him, whoever he was. Was it someone I worked with? Someone in our mutual circle? Or — god forbid — someone I was secretly seeing? The idea made his grip tighten, his strokes becoming rougher as his possessiveness took over.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, barely giving himself a moment to think.

NC17 donated $100: Tell me about him.

I leaned back against the pillows as I silently read his donation, the vibrator gliding slowly over my folds before dipping inside, my moan trembling and raw. “Fuck,” I whimpered, throwing my head back as my mouth fell open. “He’s… so fucking hot,” I breathed through my moans, inserting the entire vibrator into myself slowly before taking it out again and repeating the process. “God, so hot.”

The chat erupted in a flurry of commands and compliments, the dings of donations coming in a constant rhythm.

Nicholas’s jaw clenched as I moaned those words, his strokes faltering for a second before he tightened his grip and picked up his pace.

So fucking hot.

The way I said it, the way my voice cracked and my body arched on the screen, sent a surge of heat through him. But the thought of who I was talking about — the mystery man in my head — had his chest tightening with jealousy.

“Not good enough,” Nicholas muttered to himself, his eyes darkening as he watched me keep my answers vague.

His hand paused on his cock as he stared at the screen, his breathing heavy. His free hand hovered over the keyboard, typing furiously before sending another donation.

NC17 donated $150: What does he do to make you so wet?

Johnny88 donated $100: fuck yourself from behind

Nicholas’s jaw was tight as his donation slid to the top of the chat in bold. He watched my lips curl into a small smile, my cheeks flushing as I rolled myself over on my knees, lifting my hips in the air while I rested my face on the pillows, back arched to the max. I angled my head to look back over my shoulder to keep reading chat while I guided my vibrator under me, giving the camera the most salacious angle as I continued working myself.

“He’s so fucking cocky,” I whimpered, the words spilling from my lips as the toy disappeared inside me. “And he always calls me ‘baby.’”

Nicholas’s head fell back against the headboard at my confession, his free hand gripping the sheets beside him as he watched me. It was him. I was talking about him. And the realization sent a jolt of primal desire coursing through his body.

His strokes grew faster, more desperate, as I buried the vibrator inside me, my body trembling slightly with the sensation. My moans started to grow louder, more uninhibited. I whimpered, my free hand gripping the sheets as I teetered on the edge. “Shit,” I gasped, my body arching as I pushed the vibrator even deeper, the pleasure overwhelming. “Yes, yes—oh, fuck. Right there.”

Nicholas clenched his jaw, his strokes matching the rhythm of my movements on screen. His chest heaved, his mind consumed by the image of me — his sweet, shy friend — coming apart in front of him. Every moan, every gasp, every broken cry of pleasure drove him closer to the edge.

“God— sh—,” he groaned under his breath, his hand tightening around his dick. He muttered endless curses under his breath as I thrusted the vibrator in and out, my glistening slickness catching the light from my laptop and candles just perfectly. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

On screen, my body tensed, my back arching as the vibrator brought me closer and closer to release. “God, yes,” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “He’s so—fuck—so perfect.”

Nicholas’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he leaned closer to the screen, his other hand trembling as he typed another message, desperate to push me further.

NC17 donated $200: Tell me how you want him, baby.

The donation notification flashed on the screen, bold and demanding. My breath hitched audibly, my gaze flicking to the chat. My cheeks flushed behind the mask, my lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

The chat exploded with messages, urging me to answer, but Nicholas only cared about one thing — my reaction. He could see the hesitation, the nervous flicker in my expression as I glanced at the camera. And then, finally, I spoke.

“I want him everywhere,” I whispered, my voice breathy and raw. My free hand trembled as it gripped the sheets tighter. “I want him to kiss me, touch me, take control… I want him to fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”

Nicholas let out a low, guttural groan, his hips bucking into his hand as my words pushed him to the brink. I whimpered on screen, my body trembling as the vibrator worked me relentlessly. “Yes,” I gasped, my voice breaking as I teetered on the edge. “Fuck—I’m all his. Only his. S-so close,” I muffled into the pillows.

Nicholas’s strokes grew frantic, his breathing ragged as he felt himself losing control. He couldn’t stop now, not when I was so close, not when the thought of being the one to make me fall apart consumed him.

NC17 donated $500: say his name when you finish and I’ll double it

My moans hitched at the sight of the donation flashing across the screen. My chest heaved as I pressed the vibrator even harder against myself, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body. The chat went wild, messages flooding in, but all I could focus on was that one donation — that one command.

Say his name.

My fingers trembled, my grip on the toy faltering for a moment as I let out a shaky breath. My body burned with pleasure, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, and yet, all of them led back to him. My lips parted, but no sound came out at first. The knot in my stomach tightened, my thighs quivering as I teetered on the edge of release.

Nicholas’s hand froze mid-stroke, his entire body tense and his cock pulsing — begging for friction — as he waited. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He leaned closer to the screen, his grip on himself almost painful as he hung on to my every movement, every sound.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered under his breath, continuing to stroke himself slowly as he leaned back against the pillows. “Say it. Say my fucking name. I know you can do it.”

My entire body trembled, the heat building inside me threatening to consume every last thought in my mind. The chat blurred in my peripheral vision as my head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping my lips. The vibrator pulsed against my clit, my hips moving in time with its rhythm as I teetered dangerously close to the edge.

Nicholas’s name burned on the tip of my tongue, the demand in the donation rattling around in my head. The promise of doubling the already insane amount made my breath hitch, but it wasn’t just about the money — it was him. His name. The thought of saying it out loud while I came, letting it slip for somebody’s entertainment when I have only ever yelled it for myself, made my pulse race.

I gasped sharply, my hips bucking as the vibrator hit just the right spot. “Yes,” I moaned, my voice high and breathy, trembling with need. My free hand gripped the sheets tighter, my body writhing on the bed as I edged closer and closer. “Oh, fuck. I’m—”

Nicholas clenched his jaw, his strokes quickening. His cock throbbed in his hand, pre-cum slicking his length as he watched me come undone. The chat was exploding with comments, but he didn’t care about any of them. All he cared about was me — and that donation.

I buried my face in the pillow for a moment, muffling a desperate, trembling moan as the vibrations coursed through me, pushing me closer to the edge. My entire body was taut, teetering between pleasure and release, the tension unbearable. Lifting my head slightly, I turned toward the camera, my cheeks flushed deep red beneath the lace mask.

And then it happened.

The knot in my stomach snapped, and a loud, raw cry tore from my lips. My body arched, every muscle trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over me. “Nicholas!” I cried out, my voice breaking as I came, his name spilling from my lips like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was. My entire body convulsed and dropped onto the bed, violently trembling from pure pleasure.

Nicholas froze, his entire body locking up as the sound of his name filled his headphones. “I—Fuck!” Nicholas’s eyes fluttered shut as he growled, his hand gripping himself tightly as my orgasm unraveled in front of him. My moans, my trembling thighs, the way I arched my back and collapsed onto the bed in the aftershocks — it was too much, and he let go.

A guttural groan tore from his throat, his cock twitching in his hand as he came, his release spilling over his fist and shirt in hot, sticky spurts. His head fell back against the headboard, his breathing ragged and heart pounding against his ribs as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, utterly spent. “Good girl,” he quietly panted.

When he opened his eyes, I was still trembling and avoiding the camera’s gaze, my body slowly relaxing as I came down from the high. My cheeks were flushed, my breathing heavy, my hair a little mussed from the mask’s elastic band slipping off just so, and there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. “Fuck, that was amazing,” I whispered.

Nicholas reached for a box of tissues on his nightstand and wiped his hand and tried to clean as much of his shirt as he could, then reached for the beer bottle on his nightstand and took a swig to quench his thirst, a small smirk on the corner of his lips.

I reached for a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning up the toy and myself before glancing back at the camera. The chat lit up with more comments and donations, all of them praising my performance but I only had one thing on my mind.

“Where’s that donation you promised, NC17?” I asked with a coy smile, rolling over on my stomach and tossing my vibrator aside.

Nicholas chuckled under his breath, his chest still rising and falling heavily. He shook his head, leaning forward to type on the keyboard. He typed in the payment details again, adding the promised donation with a smirk tugging at his lips. His cursor hovered over the “send” button for a beat longer than necessary before he clicked it.

NC17 donated $1,000: You earned it, baby. Don’t spend it all at once.

The notification flashed on my screen, bold and unmistakable. My eyes widened slightly and I froze, my breath hitching audibly as I stared at the amount. The most I had ever made in a single stream — in a single donation. The chat immediately erupted with reactions, some congratulatory, others envious that it hadn’t been them to make the donation, but I barely noticed them.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, sitting up slightly and brushing my hair back, my fingers trembling as I adjusted the mask that had slipped slightly during the stream. “NC17, you are the best. Oh, my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you. That’s… wow. You’re amazing.”

Nicholas leaned back against the headboard, his smirk deepening as he watched my reaction. The way my voice trembled with gratitude, the way I bit my lip nervously — it was all too much, too intoxicating. It sent a thrill through him, knowing he was the one making me react like that.

“Damn straight,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his damp hair as he reached for his beer again. He took a long swig, his eyes never leaving the screen as I began to wind down the stream. His chest still heaved slightly, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened.

“I think that’s it for tonight,” I said softly, my voice carrying that familiar mix of shyness and playfulness. “Thank you all for being here. And thank you again, NC17. You’ve been… incredible.” My eyes flicked to the chat one last time, lingering on his username before I smiled and waved. “Goodnight, everybody. Sweet dreams,” I blew a kiss to the camera.

sweetdream has ended the stream.

With that, I leaned forward and ended the stream, the screen fading to black. I sat back against my headboard, letting out a shaky breath as I pulled off the lace mask. My cheeks were still flushed, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the laptop, the donation total lingering in the corner of the screen.

Across town, Nicholas shut his own laptop with a quiet click and pulled off his earphones, tossing both aside and running a hand down his face once reality started to creep back in. He’d just crossed a line — one he couldn’t uncross. He’d watched me, his friend, in a way that was impossible to forget. And worse, I’d said his name. Called out for him while I fell apart on camera, in front of God knows how many strangers. Even worse, he’d dropped over two thousand dollars just to see it happen.

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. He knew he’d have to face me eventually. Knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this secret forever. But for now, he let the smirk linger, his mind already spinning with how to handle the situation.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and teasing as he reached for his beer.

[uncle-fruity]

I appreciate everything OP said here, and so much of it rings true. And while we're on this topic, I wanna bring up something I've been mulling over that I think is related.

We have got to stop thinking of marginalized people as a monolith -- even when that homogenized version in our heads is mostly positive. What I mean is that not every trans person is a good person. Just like not every cis person is a bad person. There will be trans people who are uninformed, willfully ignorant, rude, mean, abusive, manipulative, misogynistic, hypocritical, and honestly pretty bad allies to anyone who they don't understand or don't like or who challenges their worldview. There will be cis people who are extremely well-read on the issues, understanding, supportive, encouraging, open-minded, willing to listen & learn, kind, respectful, dedicated transfeminists, and honestly some of the best allies you'll ever have.

There is this sort of underlying assumption that trans people will always understand each other better than anyone else, that we are safer with our own, but that's not always the case. It is fair to assume that trans people are more likely to connect with and understand each other, but it is (clearly, as demonstrated) not guaranteed.

That's because we are humans! Humans are messy, complex, often hypocritical, nuanced beings. We all have different experiences, surroundings, relationships, beliefs, and priorities that make us who we are. Gender is just one facet of the many many things that come together to make us wholly human. Being trans doesn't make you a good person; it makes you trans. And while being trans may give you valuable insight on gender dynamics and trans oppression via direct exposure, it does not automatically make you a scholar or expert on all trans experiences or the historical context that feminism & transfeminism is built on. That kind of information must be actively pursued if you want a fuller picture.

This is why I've been going off about critical thinking so much -- because if you aren't being critical about this, it gets very very easy to fall into a reactive and/or bigoted and/or narrow mindset, and that can be genuinely harmful to yourself and others if you're not careful. Especially on Tumblr, where someone could very easily misrepresent their identity to stir up shit and push transphobic rhetoric behind the mask of an assumed ally. Thinking critically is a vital tool to help us avoid being manipulated by a false or disingenuous narrative.

When we say, "Listen to trans people," we mean that you need to pay attention to a wide variety of trans people and what we're talking about -- because we will and do agree AND disagree with each other on a number of issues all the time. But the more of us you listen to and consider, the more likely you are to see patterns of oppression and common trans experiences that will broaden your worldview and help you make a better informed decision about what to believe or what to look further into or how to spot common anti-trans sentiments/dogwhistles. "Listen to trans people" is not followed by the secret phrase, "and thoughtlessly accept everything they say about trans issues." Anyone who demands that you agree with them without room for question or comment or criticism is trying to control the narrative. Even if there is good reason to believe someone knows their shit, it never hurts to dig deeper into the worldview someone is trying to get you to internalize before you do so.

So, with that in mind, I encourage everyone to really take stock of their priorities & values within activism and judge people on their actual behaviors & impact & quality of information they present, NOT just their stated identities. If something a fellow activist said feels uncomfortable or rubs up against your values, it's okay to examine that feeling and ask questions to figure out what's at the root of it. The trans women who act the way OP described are not representative of all trans women, nor are they necessarily our allies. The same goes for misogynistic & transmisogynistic trans men. Or trans people of any sort who subscribe to any flavor of gender/bioessentalist ideology. That isn't to say that we don't fight for their rights or support them when they fall victim to systemic violence or ignore their issues or give up on trying to educate & elevate where we can -- we are still fighting the patriarchy for everyone's benefit. But, critically, we also don't have to accept hateful rhetoric into our communities and theories just because the fuckos spouting it off are trans.

honestly, as a trans woman who's running a fairly 'popular' or whatever queer blog, i've noticed so much shit in the past 2 years and i'm just gonna lay it out for y'all. it's a new year. it's 2025. i do NOT wanna carry any more of this bullshit forward. i'm calling everything for what it is. if this pisses you off, unfollow or block and move on.

as someone else put it in the tags on one of my other posts:

i am sick and tired of not talking about extremely important queer conversation topics for the sake of "keeping the peace".

this is not giving trans women and transfemmes a better quality of life to attack literally every every and all trans men for being trans men. it's making people fucking scared shitless of us. i hope people realize this isn't helping improve the opinion other people have on trans women and transfemmes. it's making people absolutely fucking terrified to even exist around us, because we've gotten to the point where we're attacking literally everyone and anyone who says something we don't like. people are fucking terrified of talking around transfemmes and trans women and it's time we broke the silence on that.

other transfemmes and trans women: do you seriously, really want other trans people to be scared to death of you? do you really want other trans people to be absolutely fucking terrified to speak around you because they're scared of getting fucking yelled at? do you really want other trans people to be utterly terrified to speak up about their own trans issues for fear of being told they hate you? do you really want other people around you to feel utterly terrified to talk about anything queer related at all for fear of being corrected, looked down upon, or verbally harassed?

i am just completely done with this environment we've fostered where basically everyone is on pins and goddamn needles holding themselves back from having real, genuine, impactful, substantial conversations about gender because they're absolutely scared shitless of being called transmisogynistic and publicly cancelled and harassed at all times for saying something as simple as "trans men don't have it easy" or talking about how AFAB people can also be trans. it really does not take much at all to set people off on this website and start accusing people of being transmisogynists left right and center.

i'm not participating in this weird mind game anymore. i do not like how this is being used to control the narrative on transness and trans experiences.

i am done with having to walk on eggshells in every. single. conversation. we have about gender.

i am done with acting like talking about transmasculinity and transmanhood is somehow magically attacking and silencing trans women and transfemmes.

i am done with people having to tack on massive disclaimers saying that they're not attacking trans women and transfemmes just for talking about their experiences on just about every post people write about gender.

i feel like every conversation about gender on here has to be so fucking sterile and calculated and meticulously planned out and stripped of most of its contents in order to not immediately get slammed with a "oh so you hate trans women" or a "oh so you're transmisogynstic." it's fine to point out genuine transmisogyny, i'm not gonna say you have to put up with it when it's real, but can we acknowledge that people are leveraging the fear other people have of being called transmisogynistic to shut people up?

at this point it's being used as a scare tactic and i'm so over it. i loathe how accusing people of being transmisogynistic is a default insult. trans men can't make a post about transmasculinity without someone getting pissed off and calling them transmisogynistic. trans men can't talk about a goddamn thing without being told to shut up, for some reason? why is this happening? like literally why are you doing this? trans men can't talk about ANYTHING at this point. like they needed to be able to coin words for the specific types of oppression they face so they could talk about it, and instead they just get fucking yelled at and told they're being copycats and that the violence they faced wasn't real? what the actual hell is this accomplishing?

why are we acting like we own oppression and no one else can even come close to understanding what its like? come on now, we don't own the goddamn concept of oppression. we also don't own transness. i am sick to death of this idea that transfemininity and trans womanhood are the only "real" ways to be trans. we do not own the concept of transness. it's not just about us. "trans rights" applies to more than just us. it can't be about us all the time. WE are the ones being self centered right now. WE are the ones who are forcing the conversation to be about us in situations where it's completely and totally inappropriate.

we need to say it for what it is: we're fostering an environment where, at this point, only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk about anything queer related at this point. like can we call it for what it is? for some reason, trans men and transmascs aren't allowed to talk about trans manhood or transmasculinity at all. ever. they're not allowed to say a fucking peep. they have to shut up and listen to a trans woman explain it to them, because for some reason, the trans woman knows trans manhood better than the trans man. this is out of fucking control, we should not have trans women explaining trans manhood to other people unless they are also a trans man. this is just unacceptable. transfems attack transmascs who speak for transfems, and yet this is seen as good and the norm?

you are not cool if you hate trans men and misgender them on purpose. this isn't feminist. this isn't progressive. you're not getting back at the patriarchy- most trans men do not benefit from patriarchy and never will- you would understand this if you listened to them. instead of talking over and for trans men, and listening to people who talk over and for trans men, if you listened to trans men, the source, you'd understand that no, transmasculine lives are NOT easy and no, trans men do not instantly benefit from patriarchal society if at all, ever. if you listened you'd understand that T doesn't make people aggressive and hostile and evil. if you listened you'd understand that there are a lot of wonderful, loving trans men out there are who are not transmisogynistic just by virtue of existing.

nobody is saying that we want to you prioritize men over trans women when we talk about trans men's rights. we're not saying that we need to talk about men all the time and never talk about women, and that men are the only ones allowed to talk, now. we really have to let multiple people participate in conversations. we can't keep doing this thing where One Gender Has To Be Superior Over another. that's gender essentialism. why must you keep yourself trapped inside the binary like that? why are you so desperate to stay stuck inside of the machine that's trying to destroy you?

challenging someone else's transphobia is not being transphobic. challenging someone else's behavior is not hating them or their gender. criticism is not an attack on trans womanhood and transfemininity. transfemmes are trans women are not immune to criticism and we need to stop acting like we are. we're not. we've created an echo chamber where only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk right now and it's not transmisogynistic to point that out, because it's literally happening before our eyes.

if we're demanding that other people treat us better, why are we treating other people like shit in the process to get it?

stop silencing other people talking about other trans experiences. transfemininity and trans womanhood are not the only ways to be trans. stop forcing yourself into conversations you don't belong in. if you don't want trans men do that, don't do it as a trans woman. don't barge into conversations you have literally 0 stock in just to be rude and mean and make the conversation about trans women instead. let other people talk. this has gone on for way too long.

let. other. trans. people. talk. we shouldn't have let it get this bad. but i'm not letting it stay this bad. if you want to accuse people having genuine conversations about transness of being transmisogynistic just because they're not a trans woman, then feel free, i'm not gonna stop you, but i'm not listening to you. i don't care anymore. i'm sick to death of not being able to have REAL conversations on here because some people don't like being reminded that they are not the only people who suffer under cisheteronormative patriarchy. if you can't accept that you are not the only one who suffers under patriarchy and that men need to be liberated from patriarchy as well, then i'm not interested in having a conversation with you to begin with.

seriously, if any of this bothers you, please just block me. i'm not participating in these dumb ass little mind games anymore. i do not give a singular shit about offending people who think this behavior is okay. i spent way too long being afraid to speak up about real world issues because of shitty internet trolls. i don't give a fuck if someone you don't like speaking about their experiences hurts your feelings- you are the problem here.

this is affecting real people in real time and i care about that. i care about people, not stupid ideologies and fighting over who is or isn't "really trans". i care about people, not fighting over labels. open your mind and understand that is is about real ass people, and not just ideologies. trans men and mascs are real ass people. they're not antagonists made specifically to attack and piss off transfemmes and trans women. enough of this.

[fear-is-truth]

PLAYER 124 / NAM-GYU as your boyfriend

warnings — kinda toxic. mention of drug use. a/n — who should i write for next…

남규

nam-gyu is the kind of partner who constantly needs to feel in control. he has a fragile ego, so he’d want to prove he’s the one in charge in the relationship, even if it means belittling you in arguments. he’s not the type to openly apologise; instead, he’d try to “make it up” by buying you gifts or doing something overly performative to smooth things over.

wouldn’t outright say “i love you” (saranghae; 사랑해) unless it’s in the middle of an argument or you’re threatening to leave. it wouldn’t be the “romantic” type of “i love you”; it’d be desperate, like, “fine, i love you, okay? is that what you want to hear?” then he’d get mad at himself for even saying it lol.

he’d have a complicated way of showing affection—instead of saying something sweet, he’d tell you, “that hoodie looks ugly as hell, but you somehow make it work.” or, “you’re lucky you’ve got me looking out for you.” it’s almost backhanded, like he’s scared of being too soft.

when it comes to physical touch, he’d only be comfortable initiating it when he’s in control. he’d sling an arm over your shoulder in public to make sure everyone knows you’re his, but in private, he’d sit stiffly until you coaxed him to relax. if you tried to cuddle him or play with his hair, he’d grumble, “stop being clingy,” but wouldn’t pull away—and if you did stop, he’d be like, “what, now you’re ignoring me?”

he’d NEVER let you see him cry. he’d bottle up everything until it spills over in a way that’s either pure rage or self-destructive. but maybe, just maybe, he’d have a mini breakdown and choke out something like, “i’m so fucking tired,” and let you hold him for a minute before he shuts it all down again and pretends it didn’t happen.

his jealousy would be off the charts. if he even suspects someone else is catching your attention, he’d immediately become aggressive and violent toward the perceived “threat.” then he’d accuse you of flirting or not appreciating him enough, even if you’ve done nothing wrong.

he’d have this really toxic habit of trying to “test” your loyalty. like, he’d say something purposely cruel just to see how much you’d put up with, and if you didn’t take the bait, he’d either feel validated or spiral into self-loathing because he’s scared you’ll leave. he’s the kind of guy who pushes people away but gets furious when they actually go.

he’s manipulative and would use your vulnerabilities against you during fights, twisting your words to make himself seem like the victim. he thrives on power dynamics, so if you’re someone with a soft heart, he’d use that to his advantage to get his way. he’s not above emotional blackmail.

obsesses over how others perceive him, so he’d put a lot of energy into making sure you’re impressed by him. even if he’s not doing well, he’d brag about some minor victory just to hear you say you’re proud of him. if you ever criticised him—like genuinely, not jokingly—it’d eat him alive. he’d act like it didn’t bother him, but he’d bring it up days later in a passive-aggressive comment like, “guess i’m just not good enough for you, huh?”

he strikes me as the guy who’d buy you expensive gifts, to prove he’s capable of taking care of you. he’d probably get something super flashy and impractical, and then get annoyed if you fawn over it immediately. “what, you don’t like it? i spent a lot of money on that shit.”

deep down, i feel like he’s terrified of being alone. he doesn’t know how to show it in a healthy way, so it comes out as possessiveness. like, he’d constantly ask where you’re going, who you’re with, and what you’re doing—not because he genuinely doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust himself to be worth staying for. if you ever left him on read, even for a little while, he’d overthink it to the point of spiraling, doing drugs etc.

has zero tolerance when it comes to anyone disrespecting you. if someone said something rude or crossed a line, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight them to defend your honour.

definitely not the type to plan cute dates or do anything traditionally romantic. instead, he’d drag you along to things he already likes—bars, shady clubs—and expect you to have fun. but sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he might surprise you by doing something actually thoughtful, like showing up at your door with your favourite street snack or insisting on watching a movie he secretly hates just because he knows it makes you happy.

his love language would probably be acts of service, but only in an effed-up way where it feeds his own need for validation. he’d show his love by offering to “solve” your problems, but he’d expect endless praise for it. he’d remind you constantly of how lucky you are to have him.

feels completely out of his depth when you’re sad, but he can’t stand seeing you like that. instead of asking what’s wrong (because vulnerability makes him squirm), he’d focus on practical things. if you haven’t eaten, he’d come back with takeout—probably ordering your favourite without even asking because he’s memorised it by now. he wouldn’t outright express his concern, though. instead, he’d shove the food at you with a gruff, “here. eat this before you waste away or something.”

despite his flaws, when you’re sad or feeling low, there’s a small part of him that genuinely wants to help, even if he doesn’t know how. he’d sit awkwardly next to you, fidgeting with his rings, and mutter, “you’re stronger than this, you know. don’t let whatever’s bothering you win.” …. the closest thing to a pep talk he can manage.

nam-gyu is FAR from an ideal boyfriend—he’s moody, defensive, and often toxic in the way he handles his emotions. his need for control and his inability to communicate openly make him exhausting to deal with at times, especially when his insecurities get the better of him. but underneath all that mess, he knows he’s piece of work, and a part of him feels like you’ll wake up one day and realise you deserve better. this fear makes him hold on too tightly, sometimes suffocatingly so, but it also drives him to try—clumsily, imperfectly, but genuinely for you. he doesn’t know how to love in a healthy way, but he does love, and he loves deeply.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[milkoomi]

finding & knowing your worth. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to take some time and talk about self-worth. this is something that was extremely difficult for me to find and realize for myself, but as i look back on my life and reflect on my growth, i’ve found myself truly knowing my own worth. of course, i still have those days that are more difficult than others, but i’ve been able to quickly pick myself back up. why? because i know my worth. i want to share a few things that have helped me realize that for myself, so i hope this post is able to enlighten you. ㅤ♡

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — lose interest in outsider opinions

in simpler terms: stop caring. i kept asking myself, “why do i care so much about what others are thinking of me?” and then i came across a couple quotes where one said, “if you wouldn’t trust their advice, why would you take their criticism?” and the other said, “i would never want to trade lives with someone who hates me.” those two quotes really stuck with me because it reminded me that those people who didn’t have a good opinion of me were the same people i needed to stop caring about.

so what if someone didn’t like me? that person is either no longer a part of my life (for good reason) or they don’t know me in the ways that my loved ones or my own self do, so why should what they have to say or think about me matter?

i knew myself better than anyone, so whatever anyone had to say about me shouldn’t have bothered me, and i let it stop bothering me. i also realized that as my day goes on and i find myself not thinking about what someone said, i tell myself that it wasn’t even worth a single thought in the first place because, clearly, it doesn’t bother me anymore!

if it won’t matter to you in 5 years, don’t continue to give it any more of a meaning.

୨ৎ — stop seeking validation

to piggyback off of my previous point, seeking outside validation is 1. not worth your time and 2. pointless. other people should never be the ones who define your worth. you have to seek validation from yourself. nobody else has a right to tell you whether or not you’re worthy.

i was always looking for validation from others, and it made my own journey to finding myself even more difficult. there were so many different opinions about me that i kept hearing, and it made me feel lost. it felt like i was getting further and further from truly discovering myself and feeling like i was worth something.

i had to pretty much force myself to seek validation within myself rather than from anyone else. it was hard, but the longer i kept searching for some kind of worth to others the more miserable and empty i felt.

୨ৎ — self reflection

time to bring out that journal, babe. we’re going to write about ourselves.

no, seriously, take some time to reflect on yourself. look within yourself and understand yourself a bit more. getting to know yourself and taking the time to focus on yourself can help you figure some things out and even bring you one step closer to truly knowing your worth.

prompts for reflection:

what are 3 characteristics about your personality do you like about yourself? why?

what are your strengths? how do those things about you make you a better person?

what’s your favorite thing(s) about you? how would they compare to what a loved one would say about you?

what are the things that weigh you down? what can you do to lift that weight off your shoulders?

how have you changed within the last 3 years? what about you has changed that you’re really proud of?

self reflection has helped me grow so much. i’ve learned so many new things about myself and it’s helped appreciate myself way more. you’ll be surprised at all the things you find about yourself, and guess what? one of those things will be your own worth.

୨ৎ — surround yourself with positivity

the people who you surround yourself with will play a huge role in how you feel about yourself. i spent too many years surrounded by people who made me feel like i was never enough, and i continued to keep the same kind of people around. i was sick of it. i was tired of being mistreated and feeling betrayed. those people made me feel miserable and they only ever brought me down rather than lifted me up.

even the media i consumed didn’t help me. i was always so focused on comparing myself to those instagram models and tiktok girls who looked nothing like me, and it made me feel worse about myself. even watching videos or shows that brought me down made my esteem drop too.

it’s important to surround yourself with people and media that make you feel good, that lift you up, and that help you feel confident because that kind of good treatment is what you deserve! you shouldn’t have to submit yourself to negativity, it only makes you feel worse and it’ll continue to get worse the longer you keep those things and people around.

now that i have people in my life that make me feel genuinely loved and cared for, i feel like i can offer that same energy those people give me to myself! it really makes a huge difference who your close circle consists of, so make sure those people are people who are genuinely and unconditionally there for you.

୨ৎ — final notes

if you do need a reminder: you are worthy, and you always have been! finding and knowing your own worth is no easy feat, but the journey you’ll go on to discover it and implement it into your life will be so extremely worth it. i promise!

you will always be more than enough, and i hope you can continue to remind yourself of that. treat yourself with genuine love and kindness, and don’t ever take yourself for granted. you have achieved so much and you have so many things to offer in life. you may not see it now, but once you do, you’ll see just how beautiful and bright your own light is.

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[eclipixels]

Slursagi

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: 'Slursagi' trends on twitter

[1,608 words]

      The first time you found out about ‘slursagi’ was on your third date. The two of you had decided to take a walk down one of his favorite streets, a simple and peaceful activity he often enjoyed. You’d quickly learned how much he appreciated these strolls, finding relaxation in the hum of natural life around him.

      As the walk stretched on, hunger crept up on both of you, and the nearest option happened to be a small street vendor selling taiyaki. The smell of the warm, sweet treats made your stomach rumble, so you both decided to stop. While you waited in line, Isagi fumbled with his wallet, muttering something about having too many receipts stuffed into it.

      Out of nowhere, a random guy walked up behind you and grabbed your ass. You yelped, startled and horrified. Unfortunately, incidents like this weren’t unheard of in the rougher areas of town, where random creeps thought they could get away with anything.

      But before you could even process what had happened, Isagi was already moving. It was as if he had some kind of metavision. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he was secretly a vampire like Edward Cullen with how fast he processed it.

      Without hesitation, Isagi spun around and delivered a punch square to the guy’s face, the impact so forceful it sent the creep stumbling backward. And then he said it. Words you never thought you’d hear from the soft-spoken and polite Yoichi Isagi.

      “If you ever touch another girl again, especially my girl, I’ll cut your dick off and force-feed it down your throat, you scummy, fucking, monkey-brained filthy roach.” The sheer venom in his tone left you stunned. It was such a stark contrast to the sweet, dorky guy you knew. Isagi wasn’t just a soft-spoken boy with a love for soccer, snacks, his parents, and you. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about.

      The creep quickly fled, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, but Isagi didn’t look away until he was sure the guy was gone. Then, turning back to you, he immediately softened, his hands reaching out to make sure you were okay.

      “Are you alright, Y/n-chan?” he asked, his voice returning to its usual gentle tone.

      You nodded, still slightly in shock but feeling a newfound appreciation for the man standing in front of you.

      That day, you learned two things about Isagi Yoichi. One: he cursed like a sailor when the situation called for it. And two: he would go to war to protect you.

      The peaceful stillness of the morning was shattered by the relentless buzzing of Isagi’s phone. It felt like the world was ending with the sheer number of notifications lighting up the screen. Ever since he’d shot to fame and made friends in Blue Lock, you’d been telling that little idiot to put his phone on “Do Not Disturb” before bed, but he never listened. To make matters worse, he was a heavy sleeper, so naturally, you were the one stuck dealing with it.

      You were currently trapped in a bear lock, his strong arms securely wrapped around you, holding you in place. To make things more inconvenient, his phone was on the opposite side of the bed, meaning you’d have to climb over him to turn it off. You wiggled in his grasp, trying to break free, but his firm biceps made it difficult.

      “Yoichi…” you mumbled groggily, your voice still heavy with sleep. No response. You tried again, wriggling harder, and after what felt like an eternity, you managed to slip out of his hold. He remained sound asleep, drooling on his pillow like the idiot he was—an idiot you couldn’t help but find adorable.

      Carefully climbing over him, you reached for his phone, ready to put an end to the constant notifications. But as your eyes landed on the screen, curiosity got the better of you. The group chat he shared with some of the Blue Lock members was blowing up. You hesitated for a moment before sneaking a peek at the messages.

      Oh. My. God.

      You quickly switched to Twitter. The entire internet was in an uproar over a clip of Isagi absolutely roasting Kaiser. The video had apparently been clipped from the background of a Facebook Live that Chris Prince was hosting to promote his water brand. In the back, Isagi had lost his patience with Kaiser’s bullshit, calling him a “Sausage-creating, Hansel-and-Gretel-watching, sauerkraut-munching, monkey” among other… colorful insults.

      Memes and jokes were everywhere. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scold Isagi for the potential PR disaster. Some were happy Isagi put Kaiser in his place, others found his choice of words hilarious. You snickered, flopping back onto your side of the bed, phone in hand. Then, turning toward your sleeping boyfriend, you shook him awake.

      “Huh? Wha—? Yes! I’d still love you if you were a worm!” he mumbled, scrambling awake and spouting nonsense.

      “What?” you asked, blinking at him in disbelief.

      “Oh… uh… good morning, love.” He gave you a sleepy smile, but his eyes noticed his phone in your hand, then back to your not-so-amused expression.

      “What’d I do this time?” he asked, pouting and puffing out his cheeks like a kid caught sneaking candy. You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his expression.

      “Here, look,” you said, squishing his cheeks playfully as you handed him the phone.

      He scrolled through the notifications, his face slowly turning red as he read the messages. On the field, Isagi was harsh and determined, but off the field? He was a bundle of shy awkwardness, and the contrast was always entertaining.

      “Fuck,” was all he managed to say after reading everything. He shot off a quick message to his friends before tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

      “You think anyone would believe me if I said it was a fake AI-generated video?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

      “No, baby. I don’t think so.”

      “Well at least they’re mostly just laughing. That’s good, right? No one seems mad.” he stuck his tongue out like a sad cat.

      “Yeah, because it was funny as hell,” you replied with a grin.

      “The root of all my problems is that braindead clown fucker.” Isagi rolled his eyes before trying to settle back comfortably again in bed.

      “You kiss your mother with that mouth, Isagi?” You messed with him.

      “Yeah, and I kiss my girlfriend with it too,” He leaned in, attempting to kiss you, but you pulled away, and his face twisted into a look of betrayal. He looked at you as if you had just stabbed him and stole his wallet.

      “Bruh,” he said, his voice laced with indignation.

      “I’m not kissing that filthy mouth,” you teased, shaking your head.

      “As if your language is any cleaner!” he shot back. Ugh, so sassy.

      "How do you think your parents would feel? Do you have any shame?" you teased, sighing dramatically as if you were truly scandalized. Isagi rolled his eyes at your exaggerated attempt to mock him, already accustomed to your antics. He thought girlfriends were supposed to be sweet and supportive, not relentless little trolls.

      "Good thing they have no idea how to operate the internet," he mumbled, his voice groggy. His eyes were still half-closed, and it was obvious he was debating whether to stay awake or fall back asleep. The way your fingers intertwined with his and your gentle touch playing with his hair wasn’t helping his case for staying conscious. It was too soothing.

      "Slursagi," you snickered, a soft laugh escaping as you tried not to wake him fully.

      "Mmmhnf, don’t call me that," he whined, dragging out the words in a sleepy, childlike complaint.

      "My," you said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. "Foul," you added, kissing the other corner. "Mouthed," another kiss. "Boyfriend," one more.

      By now, he was grumbling, brows furrowed in mild irritation. "Just kiss me already," he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the teasing. He wanted a real kiss, not these fleeting corner-of-the-lip ones you were so smugly doling out.

      "Make me, Slursagi," you teased, the name rolling off your tongue with a mischievous smirk.

      "I said stop calling me that, brat," he grumbled, his voice low and laced with annoyance.

      Oh? That tone caught your attention.

      "Or what?" you challenged.

      Isagi cracked one eye open to glare at you, his face a mix of sleepiness and displeasure. It was clear he wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily this time. His expression practically screamed, keep testing me, and you’ll find out.

      You decided to back off, realizing you weren’t ready to deal with feral Isagi this early in the morning. As tempting as it was to keep teasing him, you knew you’d be the one paying the price if you pushed him too far. Nope, not today.

      Instead, you just chuckled to yourself, leaning back against the pillows as Isagi snuggled closer, clearly surrendering to sleep again. His breathing grew softer, and soon, he was fully asleep, his face buried comfortably against your shoulder.

      Meanwhile, you scrolled through Twitter, quietly laughing at all the memes people had already whipped up about him. They ranged from clever wordplay to ridiculous photoshops of Isagi. One particularly hilarious edit had Isagi wielding a soccer ball like Thor’s hammer, with the caption: 'Isagi Yoichi: Destroyer of Egos.'

      You had to stifle your laughter to avoid waking him. As chaotic as the morning had been, you couldn’t help but feel a little proud and deeply amused by the man that was your boyfriend. Your ‘slursagi’

[kays-brains]

(I'm not a hardcore ghostie but)I want to quickly note that in the community bad has never been treated like an actual person with boundaries. Like, when the entire dream smp community hated him for trying to make the prime path harder to explode(i get it was ugly, obsidian never looks good but the backlash should NOT have been that bad). In the qsmp it was such a breath of fresh air to see him be appreciated by people. One of the moments that had made me cry had been when the other members made him an appreciation room where they had all said nice things, given him a crown, etc. I cried SO much that day, it felt so nice to see people actually say thank you or be nice to him. and I'm NOT saying qsmp didn't have some icky moments, the election era made me have to stop watching live because I get an icky feeling when I see people unwilling to communicate with each other/ let people actually speak. AND THE GRIEFING ON HIS HOUSE OUGHH PAIN. it's less that I'm mad, I'm truly just really exhausted.

(Also wanna note that I aknowledge that bad is an adult with the ability to handle his own problems, I just also like funky streamer times with silly eggs and you're allowed to dissagree with any of my points because these people talk behind the scenes n stuff i just hate miscommunicatiom as a trope and generally)

I wouldn't call myself a Ghostie exactly but I've been around since 2020 and I think we need to talk in detail about how Bad has been legitimately used and abused by the Dr*m Team. Especially now that he's making more noticeable moves to get the hell away from them.

Given I'm just on the outskirts of his community, my only starting points are their weird obsession with constantly threatening and joking about harming his dog (like during Jackboxes back in the day), and giving him 0 credit or acknowledgement for hosting the DSMP server.

But there is so so so so so so much more and I want this post to be a sounding board for the hardcore Ghosties who are sick of watching their guy get treated like shit constantly.

Go ahead and use this post to air them out, guys.

[bluem1lls]

Hi! Could you do a fluff Se-mi one shot? Unfortunately I don’t really have any prompt to give you but I think a out of squid game AU would be pretty cool! Like it could be when they first met, or first date sm like that!

I would really appreciate it if you write it, but if not that’s absolutely fine! I hope you have an amazing day! <3

headcanons gf! se-mi

✦ synopsis: never let your annoying best friends to stop you from finding your girlfriend!

tw: a bit of nsfw

authors note: hiii im sorry for the no update, work is killing me but here's this! i hope u like it💓 tysm for the requests!

-> se-mi, who you've met because of a close friends hangout.

"would it be okay if i bring se-mi?" min su asked as i passed the joint to thanos.

"is she cute?" nam gyu asked.

"she's a lesbian" min-su answered with a chuckle.

"oh?" i said as i pay more attention to the conversation.

"she's probably not your type tho, you're so picky" min su said rolling his eyes as i scoffed.

-> se-mi, who was totally your type.

when you two met, you bonded immediately, laughing and smoking together as the other three were sitting on the couch staring.

"what about us man? when it's our turn?" nam-gyu said, watching as she said something that made you blush.

thanos and min su shook their head as they kept smoking.

"i bet i can drink more than you" she said as you laughed. "wanna bet?" she said with a smirk. "if i win, i get your number"

no need. two shots in and you were giving her your number no matter what.

-> se-mi, who texted you while you were passed out on nam gyu's bed as he was sprawled on the floor with thanos's arm around him.

you tried to find your phone, lowering the brightness as you grabbed it while your head throbbed.

pretty girl w the piercings: hi

pretty girl w the piercings: maybe its too soon but would you like to have dinner tonight? we can do something chill :)

-> se-mi, who has you waking up thanos and nam gyu with screams of happiness.

"who died?!" nam-gyu opened his eyes wide.

"min-su?! my boy?" thanos asks, alarmed

"se-mi texted me! she wants to hang out tonight! it's a date!" i said getting up the bed to quickly shower.

"this can't happen anymore bro. she needs to stop getting drunk and sleeping in your room" thanos says to nam gyu as he throws himself into his bed and covers himself with the blankets.

nam gyu blinks. two people already slept in his bed, none of those being him. he sighs as he goes into thanos's room to sleep some more.

"for fucks sakes" he mumbles.

-> se-mi, who's soon arriving to your house.

"i need you two idiots out of here tonight" you said, putting your earrings on and brushing your hair as they stared.

thanos winked as he grabbed his phone to call someone. "we're on our way" i could hear min-su over the phone screaming to thanos, alarmed, because he was on a family reunion. "we're your family too boy! be there in 20" he said, hanging up.

well. they're min-su's problem now.

-> se-mi, who stood there in all back, as she played with her lip piercing, smirking and looking up and down as you open the door.

"hi!"

"hey pretty" she said, as you moved aside, letting her in.

"we're just leaving" she got in as the guys got out, giving a quick head nod to her.

"get laid" thanos shouted from outside.

"she needs it" nam-gyu followed him.

of course you stood there all blushy as she chuckled.

you'll kill them later.

-> se-mi, who brought everything you told her you liked! a horror movie, your favorite snacks, diet coke and ice cream as dessert.

"it's this is okay? maybe i should've bought more things. now i'm nervous maybe it's time for a smoke break-" she rambles too much. you don't give her time to think as you cup her face and kiss her. her eyes widen in surprise but she quickly melts into it.

-> se-mi, who's quickly stopping the makeout sesh to turn on some 'cigarettes after sex' on the speaker.

-> se-mi, who starts hanging out more with the boys and talks a lot about you.

-like a lot. nam-gyu is tired. he has to see you at home and now hear about you??

-> se-mi, who loves chill dates with you, like staying at home and watching some movie.

-> se-mi, who has to get used to the guys because half of the dates probably include them bc they feel left out:(

its like you two are mothers going out with three kids. three very dumb kids (26 year old adults). but you love them and se-mi learns to love them too .. kind of. give her time.

-> se-mi, who not even two months in she's decoring your room with your favorite flowers and a sign that says 'would you let me be your girlfriend?' you kiss her until your lips go numb.

-> gf!se-mi who doesn't know how to keep her hands out of you. her hands on your hips, hugging you from behind, circles on your waist, underneath your shirt.

-> gf!se-mi who loves playing video games. she's SO happy when she finds out you don't actually like playing but you like watching. she buys all your favorite games and plays them all for you

"BABY, TURN RIGHT. I'VE WATCHED THIS 20 TIMES, GO RIGHT" you shout at her.

"do you wANNA PLAY?" she replies, getting exasperated trying to follow your indications.

you pout as you shook your head.

she loves this. wouldn't trade it for the world.

-> gf!se-mi who loves taking you shopping to the mall. clearly for the lingerie stores. probably ends up fingering you in there.

she buys anything you like, baby is poor but she tries SO hard for her girl:(

you're pointing at a plushie?? it's yours.

clothes u like? she knows your size, it's yours.

-> gf!se-mi who discovered your music tastes are so different that she can't believe she's listening to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo songs to learn them for you. she's incredibly down bad.

-> gf!se-mi who gets you a necklace with her initial

"for: baby

it's not because i own you, but because i really know you :)"

-> gf!se-mi who gets SO nervous when you wanna introduce her to ur parents. and she's so happy when they approved her.

-> gf!se-mi that is SOO smart, everytime she helps u study you're moaning.

-> gf!se-mi that's not studying for now, just working. but you are.

and when she sees you burned out? oh she's the first one to be there helping.

"baby, you've been studying for hours, let's take a break"

"i can't sem. my parents-"

"okay okay, let's go through the flashcards again and we'll take a nap, how does that sound?"

-> gf!se-mi that is there when you get a 87 and not a 100. and you're crying about what your parents are going to say while she caress your hair and kisses you.

"we'll start again in a bit if you want to, but for now let it out princess" she kisses your temple.

-> gf!se-mi who everyone stares when she takes you to campus. but she has no idea, she's just looking at you.

-> gf!se-mi who's a fuckgirl in recovery tho..

like the idea of cheating does not cross her mind. but sometimes she smiles. too much.

and maybe some girl is winking at her because god you have a HOT girlfriend.

and she just turns to you, smirking.

"did u see that babe? i haven't lost my charm ;)" she says as you scoff in disbelief. you two end up making out until her brain is too fuzzy to remember what she told you.

"just wanted her to see that you're mine" you say as you clean up any of your messed up lipstick.

her boxers are wet. sticky and wet.

and if someone you know is frequently flirting with her? next time they'll see her, she has three big bruised spots on her neck, and she's SO happy.

one time she had a little admirer at her job who went to see her like three times a week.

baby: she's here!!!!!!!!!!!

me: who???

me: wait.. stalker??

baby: mhm.

and when you leave her on seen, she frowns. she scans everything this girl is taking as she feels her phone vibrating. she checks her messages and oh! it's you!

two photos. one of you in her favorite red lingerie and the second one, you moving aside those pretty panties to send your bare pussy.

she's drooling. and her brain is pretty much broken.

"i-m-m sorry" she stutters to the girl in front of her, who frowns. "min-su cover for me! i'll stay tomorrow" se-mi screams at him and smiles at the girl who looks like her heart got crushed.

-> gf!se-mi who also gets jealous easily. match made in heaven!

give her two seconds before she's eyeing up and down with a cold stare to anyone who's talking to you. her hands grip your waist as they start to roam over your body, she leaves a wet neck kiss as she gets close to your ear.

"bathroom. right now. or you wanna show them you're only my whore? because i'll fuck you right here and i'll make them watch" she whispers on your ear while you're talking, making you shiver.

yeah forget the chat, it wasn't that interesting anyways.

-> gf!se-mi that spends every sundays with you

lazy days, laying in bed hugging and kissing eachother, picking two books out of your book shelf to read for a while. if it's raining?? movie, take out food and a nap.

she just wants to be with you, does not care about anything else.

-> gf!se-mi that if you're into romantic stuff, she's doing her best for her girl. sometimes she forgets tbh but there it is min-su to remind her!

se-mi: 😭 she's mad at me

min-su: it's flower day. according to tik tok, girl's wanna receive a yellow bouquet

se-mi: you're my second favorite person.

and she's at your door 30 minutes after you got mad with a yellow bouquet, smiling behind it.

she really tries.

-> gf!se-mi who knows how to draw so well, she actually draws a bouquet of ur favorite flowers to give u every month.

-> gf!se-mi who finds tik toks about kitties and sends them to you.

you open tik tok once again as you see a new video sent by your girlfriend. is a black cat licking a white cat with a pink bow

semisucks: das us:)

-> gf!se-mi who loves when you do skincare on her but she already has a pretty spotless face. although she uses hand soup to wash her face

-> gf!se-mi who never stopped flirting with you, she has to keep her girl

" you look so good tonight, you're lucky i have a wife or ill be taking you to bed real fast" she says winking as you roll your eyes.

-> gf!se-mi that after two years of dating, wants to move with you.

"you didnt ask for our consent" thanos says, shooking his head no as you both tell them the news.

"you steal our best friend and now you want her to move? that's not happening" nam gyu agrees with him.

you stare at the three of them who are fighting about you like little kids.

"well, i guess its time to bring the second choice" i say to se-mi as she places her head on the table as she mumbles 'fuck'

"she moves here" i say, staring at those two as they stare at eachother.

"fine. but no moaning" thanos says as nam gyu nods.

-> gf!se-mi who hates her birthday, except this year, when you throw her a mini surprise party with nam-gyu, thanos and min-su.

-> gf!se-mi who can't cook... please don't make her.

-> gf!se-mi who protects you and puts you on top of anything.

you're her girl after all.

nsfw hc!

-> gf!se-mi who has an obsession with your tits, when youre riding her? shes having a blast seeing your tits bounce

-> gf!se-mi who fucks u in public places. 100%

-> gf!se-mi who has a broken brain when she sees you with a new lingerie set.

-> gf!se-mi who has a black strap. and god she knows how to use it

-> gf!se-mi who didn't do it right if you're not crying and trembling by the end of the night.

-> gf!se-mi who loves quickies. everytime you two are about to go out you're suddenly 15 minutes late because you just looked so cute in that oufit, that she had to eat you out.

-> gf!se-mi who quiets her whimpers everytime you're eating her out while she's playing with the guys.

"are you okay? focus dip shit" nam-gyu says to her.

she's on her chair, completely flustered and out of breath, biting her lips while you're swirling around her clit.

"i'm- i'm fine" she sttuters as she quickly mutters the mic, her hand grabs your hair. "right there princess"

-> gf!se-mi who loves to hear you while she fucks you. if you're not screaming she's not happy.

-> gf!se-mi that gets extremely frustrated when you tease her in public.

it's okay, she'll make you her slut when you're back home<3

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ‘click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[itsnesss]

Request where fem!reader was a winner of the games and helps Jun-ho’s search in season two. He’s very respectful/cautious with her because of her trauma. After a certain point they both like each other but he’s still trying to be professional (?)/and a gentleman until the reader gets so fed up and is just like bro?? Kiss me 🤨 I’ll even throw in a snickers bar if there’s smut

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | post trauma themes, smut, explicit content, fingering (reader!receives), oral sex (jun-ho!receives), p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 3.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sea breeze blows gently as you walk alongside Jun-ho. The tension between you is palpable, though the silence remains. The ocean seems endless, just like the memories you carry since you survived the Games. Here, in this unfamiliar place, the answers you seek feel increasingly distant. But you can’t stop. You won’t.

"Are you ready?" Jun-ho’s voice is deep, almost as if he’s hoping you’ll say no.

You glance at him sideways. Always so serious, so controlled. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since surviving the Games, it’s that you can’t fully trust anyone—not yet. But Jun-ho, he’s different. His respect for you is clear, and though his professional demeanor keeps him distant, you know that, somehow, he cares.

"Yes," you reply firmly, though deep down, an unease grows. It’s not just the island that frightens you, but everything that might have been left behind. Everything you’ll never know.

Jun-ho approaches but keeps his distance, as he always does. He’s not one to touch you or show affection, and though you appreciate it, something inside you yearns for him to break that barrier. To see you as more than just a survivor, as someone with feelings.

The boat ride feels long, but the worst is yet to come. The island remains out of reach, a shadow on the horizon that seems to shift with the wind. Each time you look at it, anxiety grows within you.

Once on solid ground, you head into the island’s interior. The dense vegetation and towering trees seem to swallow every step you take. The air is heavy, and every sound, every crack, feels threatening. The tension rises as you navigate the terrain, but there’s no sign of what you’re looking for.

Time passes, and though you don’t want to admit it, discouragement begins to seep into your bones. Jun-ho says nothing. He knows you won’t find anything here—he knows it as well as you do. But he keeps searching, as if his footsteps could force the island to reveal its darkest secret.

You stop, staring at the horizon. The island is empty. The memory of what happened here drowns in the stillness of the landscape, but that doesn’t change how you feel: a sense of emptiness, of something missing, something you’ll never complete.

Jun-ho stops beside you, his breathing steady, though his posture is tense. He doesn’t look at you directly, as if waiting for a signal that it’s over, that you can both leave.

"We tried," he says finally, his voice calm yet slightly broken. As if he already knew but needed you to accept it. "But it’s not here."

Silence settles between you. Frustration consumes you, but there’s something else, something you can’t name. The way his voice falters, how he shows vulnerability in front of you, is something you’ve never seen before.

"And now what?" you ask, your tone laced with frustration. "Is that it? We just leave and forget what happened?"

Jun-ho takes a moment before answering, looking into the distance as if hoping the scenery might inspire some kind of answer.

"No, this isn’t everything. But maybe the answers aren’t here," he says, and at the end of his words, his tone changes—something more personal. He steps closer to you, and though he doesn’t touch you, you feel the space between you shrink.

His presence feels more tangible, and for a moment, forgetting everything else, you wonder if you can truly trust him. Not just as an ally, but as someone who might understand you beyond the Games, beyond survival.

"What will you do now?" you ask, this time your voice tinged with uncertainty, with an emotion you don’t know how to handle.

Jun-ho watches you closely. The way he does, as if measuring every word, unsettles you. You can’t read what’s going on in his head, but there’s something in his eyes that seems to say more than his voice could. As if he’s inviting you to step closer, to seek something between you both that neither of you has dared to name.

The tension between you is undeniable. The silence, though heavy, is a witness to the unspoken emotions. For a moment, the distance between you feels like an abyss, but in his gaze, there’s something inviting you to bridge it.

You don’t know what to do. Confusion, exhaustion, and anxiety swirl within you, and the desire for him to make a decision consumes you. But Jun-ho doesn’t take the step, doesn’t touch you, doesn’t say anything more.

Finally, frustration takes over. You’ve stayed strong for so long, but this… this is breaking you. You need something more, something to make you feel whole again. And for some reason, you seek it in him, in someone you’ve come to respect deeply.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him. A quick, impulsive kiss, but filled with everything you’ve kept inside: the pain, the fear, the need for something more. You don’t know why you do it, but in that instant, everything seems to overflow.

Jun-ho freezes at first, surprised by your action, but he quickly responds. His hands settle on your waist, and the contact, though unexpected, sparks something between you both. The tension that had built for so long finally erupts in a single gesture.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing heavily. His expression is hard to read, but he doesn’t look upset—not at all. There’s a mix of astonishment and something else, something that makes you wonder if this tension has been there all along.

"Why didn’t we say anything before?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Jun-ho doesn’t answer immediately. He takes a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. Finally, he leans closer, his face so near to yours that you can feel his breath.

"Because I don’t want you to regret it," he replies softly.

...

The boat ride back is marked by a heavy silence, but not for lack of words. Everything has changed since you kissed him on the island. Jun-ho sits across from you, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. You can see how his hands rest on his knees, tense, as if he’s making a monumental effort to keep his composure.

You’re not any better. The closeness in that moment, the way his lips responded to yours, still burns in your mind. Your skin seems to remember every place where he touched you, his warmth, the way his body leaned into yours. And now, the tension you’d both ignored for days feels like it’s finally spilled over.

Eventually, the rocking of the waves forces you to steady yourself. You lean on the ship’s railing, and when you do, you feel his hand brush against yours. It’s an accidental touch, you know, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You look at him, and his eyes are fixed on you.

No words are needed. You lean toward him, and this time there’s no hesitation. Jun-ho pulls you into his arms and kisses you with an intensity you never imagined. His lips are firm, desperate, as if he’s held back all that desire for days, weeks, maybe months.

The sound of the sea and the sway of the boat fade away. There’s only him, his body close to yours, his hands finding their way to your waist. You can’t stop him, and you don’t want to. Every time you try to pull back to breathe, his lips find yours again, hungry, eager, as if you both know this moment can’t be enough.

"This isn’t professional," he murmurs against your mouth, though he makes no effort to pull away.

"Then stop doing it," you reply, your fingers tangling in his hair, forcing him to continue.

He laughs against your lips, a low, rough sound, before surrendering completely. What started as a kiss ends in desperate caresses, his hands exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and restrained passion. Every touch ignites a fire inside you that you didn’t know existed.

Finally, you both separate as the boat reaches the dock. The return to reality is abrupt, but the heat between you doesn’t dissipate. You walk to your house in silence, though your fingers graze his as you move forward, as if neither of you can bear the idea of being too far apart.

When you finally open your front door, the initial awkwardness returns. Jun-ho seems hesitant, as if debating whether to stay or not.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, though the answer is evident in his eyes.

"Only if you’re sure," he replies, his tone low but full of emotion.

You don’t give him time to think. You take his hand and guide him inside, closing the door behind you.

The atmosphere changes immediately. The intimacy of your home seems to amplify what’s already happening between you. You barely have time to turn toward him before Jun-ho takes your waist and gently presses you against the wall. His lips find yours again, this time with more urgency, as if everything he held back during the journey is spilling out.

His hands explore your body with a perfect mix of softness and determination. You feel alive under his touch, every caress sending waves of heat through your skin. Your hands also explore, sliding over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath his clothes.

Her breath quickens, her eyes shining with contained desire.

The moment he moves away from you a little, you can see the effort he makes to control himself.

"I promise you won't want this to end," he whispers, as if waiting for your response.

You don't wait. Your mouth finds his again, and this time the kiss transforms into something hungrier, more intense. His lips part just enough to allow his hand to remove your blouse, his gaze resting on your bare breasts with a mix of admiration and lust.

The feeling of being naked in front of him is exciting, and although a part of you feels the temptation to cover yourself, the look in his eyes stops you. You had never seen him like this, as someone who surrenders to passion. He is so different from what you expected, and yet, he is as real as the man who accompanies him.

A second later, Jun-ho kneels and begins to kiss your chest gently, as if it were your first encounter. Your breath quickens as his lips travel across your skin, kissing and caressing your breasts. His fingers glide over your shoulders to the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them with a skill that makes you feel like a novice.

You don't protest. You don't want him to stop, although you don't want him to undress you completely just yet. There is still something you hope will happen, something you feel you can't lose.

A moment later, your pants are on the floor and his hands are sliding up your thighs, reaching the edge of your panties. You look him in the eyes, seeing how his pupils dilate as his fingers slide under the cotton.

Her touch is light, but it makes you shiver, as if you had never been touched like this before. Her fingers continue exploring, finding your clitoris with a gentle yet determined touch. The sensation is so good that you can't hold back a moan.

"Do you like it?" he asks in a low voice, although his gaze shines with the answer.

You nod your head, although your response seems insufficient for him. His fingers begin to caress your lips with a skill you didn't expect. His rhythm is fast at first, then it slows down, as if he were waiting for you to get used to his touch.

The pleasure is overwhelming. His fingers seem to know exactly what you need to feel to surrender. The rhythm picks up again, and you can feel something inside you approaching the edge.

"Jun-ho" you moan, your hips starting to move in search of more.

He smiles against your mouth, his fingers increasing their pace once more. The feeling that you're going to explode is getting stronger, but you can't stop. You don't want to stop.

Finally, a wave of pleasure consumes you, making you moan his name. His fingers don't stop until you feel exhausted, your breath ragged, your body trembling.

But the pleasure doesn't end there. Jun-ho continues caressing you while kissing you softly on the mouth, on the neck, on your shoulders. His fingers reach your clitoris again, this time faster, more determined.

"God!" you moan when the pleasure returns, as if you hadn't been on the verge of exploding just minutes before.

Jun-ho smiles again, but his eyes shine with a lustful desire. His fingers continue to caress you mercilessly, as if he expects to push you to the limit once more.

"How many times can you?" he asks, his breath quickening, his lips on your neck.

You can't respond. Your body trembles with pleasure, but somehow, you feel you can go on longer. Jun-ho smiles once more, and a second later, his fingers caress your clitoris again, this time with demonic skill.

You moan his name when the sensation of orgasm returns, although this time it is stronger. The pleasure is overwhelming, so intense that you might feel yourself collapse into his arms.

Finally, his fingers stop and you take a moment to catch your breath. But the tension remains, palpable between the two of you.

"How do you feel?" Jun-ho whispers softly, his breath on your neck.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, and you catch her to kiss her mouth. Her response is instantaneous, her tongue finding yours as she presses you against her body.

"I don't feel complete" you reply softly, looking directly at him. "Not yet".

Jun-ho nods, and a second later his mouth meets yours once again. His fingers touch you everywhere, roaming your body with desire. Finally, you feel his fingers searching for the zipper of his pants, and an emotion consumes you as you realize what is about to happen.

When his fingers reach the zipper, a second of indecision floods you. You haven't seen him like this, naked and vulnerable in front of you. How will he feel?

You don't have time to ask yourself anything else. His fingers release his erection, and surprise floods you as you see how big it is. You didn't know what to expect, but this is much more than you imagined.

His fingers caress her, as if she were offering herself to you.

"Do you want to taste" he whispers in a low voice, and something in his tone makes you understand that he doesn't have much experience with this.

You nod your head. It's your opportunity to touch, to feel, to do something more than just feel.

You bend down and touch his erection. It's hard, but soft at the same time. Your fingers caress her skin, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

"Do you want me to do it?" you ask in a low voice, your gaze meeting theirs.

Jun-ho nods, his eyes shining with desire. The way he looks at you makes you feel strong, as if nothing can stop you.

You move a little closer and gently kiss the tip of his erection. The sensation is strange but pleasant. His fingers rest on your shoulders as he watches you, as if he can't believe what's happening.

Even though you are not a virgin, Jun-ho's size is intimidating, but you don't stop. You take his erection into your mouth and gently touch it with the tip of your tongue.

Jun-ho moans when he feels your touch. His gaze pierces you, his breath ragged. His fingers search for your hair and cradle you as you kiss his erection with more passion.

Finally, his erection begins to enter your mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, but you don't stop, feeling every inch that enters you. Jun-ho moans again when you feel his testicles against your lips.

Her breathing becomes erratic, her fingers tightening in your hair.

"No, I can't take it anymore!" he screams, gently pulling you out of her body.

You look at him in surprise, but his fingers pull you closer and he kisses you desperately. The need between the two of you is palpable.

"Are you sure?" he asks a moment later, his breath still ragged.

"Yes" you respond in a low voice. "Yes, I want to do it".

Jun-ho nods a moment later, and his fingers take you by the waist. A second later, you find yourself in your bed, with him between your legs.

"Do you mind if this is quick?" he asks, his fingers brushing your inner lips gently.

"No" you respond quickly. You can't wait any longer.

You feel him brushing against your entrance with his member. His fingers continue to caress your clitoris as he slowly enters you. The sensation is incredible, his erection so big that you can feel it throbbing in your body.

The penetration is slow and painful, but it is also exciting. Finally, his erection enters you completely, and Jun-ho pauses for a moment to let you get used to his size.

"You're so tight" he whispers very softly, his lips brushing against yours.

"So perfect".

"Don't stop" you moan.

Jun-ho laughs for a second before he starts to move, his rhythm initially slow but then quick and desperate. The sound of their bodies joining is audible in the room, sweat covering their bodies as they move with desperation.

The feeling is overwhelming. You didn't expect something like this, something so intense, but here it is. Everything comes down to this moment, to his body inside yours.

Pleasure takes hold of you once again. His fingers caress your clitoris once more as he moves inside you, and you can feel something within you starting to grow.

Finally, a third orgasm consumes you. You moan his name as his body tightens around you, the sensation that he also reaches climax.

"God... " shouts Jun-ho, his breath very agitated as he collapses onto you.

Your arms wrap around his body, feeling his fingers gently touch your back. You can't stop looking at him, the expression of pleasure on his face is incredible. You didn't expect it to be like this.

[winchesterdreamgirl88]

Under the Spotlight

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: You have been Jensen's assistant for a few years and during a convention you guys have to share a bed and feelings are revealed.

Word Counts: 1127

Warnings: Allusions to smut

A/n: I feel like my stories are finally getting better and people are liking them more! I will make a part 2 of what happens next if people want. Feedback is appreciated:)

You'd been Jensen Ackles' assistant for two years now, and if you were being honest, your feelings for him were more complicated than they should be. Working behind the scenes of conventions, handling his schedule, answering his fan mail, and making sure he was always at the right place at the right time — you'd gotten to know him better than anyone, save for his family. And, despite your best efforts to keep things professional, there was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you.

You had always kept a respectful distance, knowing he had just gone through a very public divorce, and you didn’t want to make things harder for him. But tonight... tonight was different.

The two of you had flown out to a convention in New Orleans, and due to unforeseen circumstances, there had been a mix-up with the hotel accommodations. There were no extra rooms available, so Jensen had offered to share his room with you — a situation that made you nervous, but you couldn't refuse.

By the time you arrived at the hotel, both of you were exhausted from the long flight and the packed schedule. Jensen’s charming smile, though, never faltered. He had that way about him — always so easygoing, making everyone feel comfortable around him, despite the emotional weight he carried from his divorce.

You checked in, got the key, and headed to the room. It was a spacious suite with a king-sized bed, which in hindsight seemed far too small for two adults, especially considering the unspoken tension that had been building for months.

Jensen opened the door, and you both stepped inside. He immediately collapsed on the couch with a groan. "Man, I’m beat. You don’t realize how draining these things are until you’ve been on your feet for twelve hours."

You nodded, trying not to let your eyes linger too long on the way his shirt clung to his chest, the way his jeans stretched just right. You’d always known Jensen was attractive — how could you not? But right now, in the quiet of the hotel room, the usual banter and crowds were replaced with the rawness of two people alone together, and the silence felt heavier than it should.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Jensen said, sitting up on the couch and pulling his shoes off. "Feel free to relax."

You smiled politely, nodding, and quickly busied yourself with organizing some notes on the desk. But your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't stop wondering what it would feel like to let your guard down — to not worry about the boundaries of being his assistant. To just... be a woman.

Minutes passed, and you heard the water turn on in the bathroom. The sound of his shower only added to the growing tension in the room. You tried not to imagine what he looked like in there — tried not to think about the way he smelled, the warmth of his skin. But your mind kept betraying you.

Finally, the sound of the shower stopped, and a moment later, Jensen emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his chest still glistening from the steam. His messy hair only added to the allure, and you had to turn away, pretending to focus on the notes in front of you.

"I’ll be done in a minute," he said with a grin, as if nothing unusual was happening. But you couldn’t shake the heat that suddenly filled the room, a feeling that was too close to desire.

"You... want to watch something?" he offered, already heading for his suitcase, pulling out some clothes.

You nodded quickly, trying to sound casual. "Sure, whatever you want."

As he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, you settled on the bed, careful to stay on your side. The bed seemed so much smaller now, and every inch of space felt like a boundary you couldn’t cross — but there was no denying that something between the two of you had shifted.

After a few minutes, Jensen finally climbed into bed next to you, both of you keeping to your respective sides, as if the distance would somehow make things easier.

For a while, you both stayed quiet, watching the TV, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. But you couldn't stop noticing the way his arm brushed against yours occasionally, how his scent filled the room. And despite all the unspoken words, all the "I'm just his assistant" thoughts in your head, you could feel him getting closer — almost as if he was waiting for you to make a move.

Then, out of nowhere, Jensen’s voice broke the silence. “You ever think about how weird it is? Being so close to someone, but never really… crossing that line?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a direct confession, but it felt like it.

You turned your head to look at him, his green eyes flicking to yours. There was a flicker of something in them — something more than friendship, more than professionalism. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, his gaze never leaving yours. "I don’t know," he said with a shrug, though his expression was anything but casual. "Sometimes I feel like there’s this tension between us. Like we’re both just waiting for the right moment."

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he talking about what you thought he was? You didn’t know how to answer, but you felt the words rising in your chest. Say something. Do something.

Before you could stop yourself, you found yourself closing the space between the two of you, your hand reaching for his. Jensen didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours for permission.

And in that moment, all the years of being just his assistant — of staying professional, of holding back — dissolved.

You kissed him. Gently at first, then with more urgency, as if the weight of everything unspoken had to be released in that single moment. Jensen’s hands were on your back, pulling you closer, the heat of his skin burning through the thin fabric of your clothes.

For the first time since you’d started working with him, it didn’t feel like there was any distance between you. It didn’t feel like he was someone you had to be professional with. It felt right.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and tangled in the sheets, Jensen’s smile was soft, but there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice low, "I think this is the right moment."

And that was all you needed to hear.

[lovelycreativecrafts]

Flirting | Gojo x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1,020

Synopsis: Gojo flirts with a woman who has a resting-mean face.

Warnings: None

Author Notes: I had this scenario in my head for a while. I feel like it could have been written better but I still wanted to post it. I'm still learning about Gojo's character. If you liked the short fanfic, please Like, Reblog, and Comment your thoughts.

Gojo POV

I walked out of the building as my 3 students followed behind me. 

“Where are we going, sensei?” Itadori asked. 

I looked over my shoulder, “A place where you all will be doing some training. It shouldn’t be too hard since you all have gotten stronger.” I looked back in front of me. 

“Why do I feel like it’s going to be very hard.” Nobara mumbled. 

Once we made it to the track, there was a group of people already there. Students ran across the track while a familiar woman stood on the side with her arms crossed. 

“Is that the new sensei?” Itadori asked. 

“Yeah,” Megumi answered.

Nobara expressed, ”You do not want to get on her bad side. One time I was chewing gum in class and the way she looked at me was so scary I thought she would rip the gum straight out of my mouth.” 

I held back a chuckle as I listened to Nobara’s opinion. People often mistaken her words and actions just because of how her face naturally rested in a mean expression. Before, I once thought she always had a bad attitude or was angry at the world but after being teamed up with her a few times I grew to understand that was just her natural face. 

“Really?” 

Megumi added, “I would have to agree with Nobara. I mistakenly fell asleep in her class the other day and she had me stay after class. She told me to make sure I get enough sleep at night so I don’t miss anything in her class but her expression basically said the next time I fall asleep in her class, I will never wake up again.” 

“Woah, she really does sound scary. Then I’m glad our teacher is Gojo then,” Itadori said.

I turned toward my students and they all nodded in unison. 

I pointed toward myself, “Hm? Do you not think I’m scary?” 

“No.” All three of my students said at the same time. 

“But I’m the most powerful one here?” 

“That doesn’t mean you’re the scariest,” Megumi said. 

“She’s actually not that scary. Once you get to know her. Just watch.” I turned away from my students and began making my way closer to the track. 

Reader POV

I watched my students run across the track. After evaluating them a few times, I noticed that their stamina wasn’t all that great despite their amazing abilities. I told them there goal was to finish 5 laps and to take breaks if needed but ever since they started they haven’t taken one break. In fact, they ran full speed the whole time. 

As much as I appreciate their dedication, I’m going to have to stop them soon. One of them already looks like they're about to pass out. 

Something brushed past my ear, “Hello Beautiful,” a male voice whispered. 

I quickly covered my ear and jumped away from the voice. My heart raced as I turned and recognized the familiar white-haired man. 

Gojo chuckled, “I thought you would have gotten used to that by now.” 

I blinked at him, “And I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 

A smirk spread on his lips, “And why would I do that?” 

I sighed and removed my hand from my ear. Of course, it was Gojo. He’s the only one that would tease me.

I looked up at Gojo, “Why do you keep calling me that? You really shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.” 

Gojo leaned toward me, “You think I’m lying?” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What else would you be doing?” 

“Wow, you really should improve your confidence. I’m not really one for lying, you know.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Let me put it bluntly, I think you’re very pretty. Not as pretty as me of course but still pretty.” 

My cheeks warmed and I looked away from him. There he goes again. 

Gojo let out a chuckle, “You’re so cute when you blush.” 

My cheeks grew hotter as I continued to not meet his eyes, “And how would you know if I’m blushing? It’s not like you can see it with my skin tone.” 

Gojo lightly grabbed my chin and turned my head toward him, “Well for one, every time you do blush, you always turn away from me.” 

My heartbeat quickened as he leaned closer to me, “Two, your pupils in your eyes tend to expand just slightly, and three . . .”

He paused and I waited for him to answer. How long has he been observing me like this? 

“I think I will keep the last one to myself.” 

“So, you’re able to see all of that with your blindfold on? That’s hard to believe.” 

Gojo removed his fingers from my chin but kept the closeness between us, “I’m able to do a lot of things with this blindfold on and it’s no exception to seeing right through you. Honestly, you’re like an open book to me.” 

Gojo leaned away from me and a smile spread across his face, “You didn’t have to mention my blindfold just so you could see my face, you know.” 

“What? That’s not why I-,” 

“Honestly, you could have just asked and I would have gladly given you a quick glance.” Gojo placed one of his fingers under his blindfold. 

I quickly looked away from him as the blush on my cheeks spread to the rest of my face, “That-That’s not why I-I mentioned your bl-blindfold.” Why am I stuttering?

“Tell you what, I’ll let you see my beautiful face if you let me take you out on a date.” 

“What?” My eyes widened as I looked back at him. He’s doing it again.

 “Shouldn’t you ask someone that you actually like?” 

“How dense can you be? I do like you and not just because you’re pretty. Oh and by the way, I think one of your students just passed out.” Gojo pointed toward the track. 

I turned toward the track and saw one of them lying flat on the ground. I quickly ran toward my student. I thought I told them to take breaks. 

[hinaypod]

A Letter To The Fans Of Independent Works:

I have a suggestion/recommendation for fans of indie things, like most audio dramas:

Stop liking posts. Share them instead.

Or do both. But the like does *not* matter in comparison to the retweet, reblog, reshare, repost.

As both an indie creator AND a huge fan and supporter of other indie works, I feel like so many people have forgotten that likes do pretty much nothing. They do nothing even on algorithmic sites these days, and certainly have NEVER done a thing on a place like Tumblr.

So likes, despite being a wonderful expression of appreciation for the creator, do nothing to spread the word about a work.

Indies more than anyone do not have the resources to spend money on marketing, and so organic advertising is all they have. Some of us are so lucky as to have the backing of a network who markets our work for us, or whose name brand gives us some more power, but ultimately we're all still indies, and the only real way any of us are given air time is by other people talking about us.

Or fans sharing our posts. Posting about us.

PLEASE POST ABOUT YOUR FAVOURITE INDIE WORKS AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE, BECAUSE IT'S ALL MOST OF US HAVE! We try to hype each other up, but that doesn't compare to just organic fan engagement, and fans sharing to people who have never heard of us.

The art of fan engagement as a whole has diminished over the last decade or two, from people not sharing posts to fan engagement happening in private on places like discord instead of in public where people can be convinced to join communities. This kills indies faster than any other creative work. Please please PLEASE do your best to SHARE about indies. This is how we survive.

[sanguchitodeternera]

Hii i'm planning on updating the ocxcanon comic soon, like in this week, but for now!!! Here are some things that I think the skelebros would appreciate if their partner told them

Sans

• "It's okey Sans, you're now underground anymore"

I think he can forget that in his routine, he still have his old habits from back then and sometimes he loses hope to continue because he stills underground, but he isn't! And even if you don't know about his fear of the reset, because you're not aware, he can't be tied to that, he wants to move on.

• "You don't need to be the funny and lazybones with me, y'know?"

I don't think Sans is that hiper depressed suicidal skeleton, but i think he's a little bit more deterministic(that one philosophical current) and fakes with the ppl so nobody can really know him or get attached, more than his brother lol.

So probably hes avoiding and being so funny so you forget that he isn't telling you the truth, and even in that context, he's happy he has someone who he can trust more freely.

• "If i know who you were, i'm not gonna run, i'm gonna stay and love you more"

I have a long HC about the skelebros past, that i'm gonna rant over other day, but to me, he's so embarrased of his past, and he can't see why someone like you could love him with the knowledge of what he did.

Papyrus

• "You are really helpfull Papyrus"

He never really has been helpfull to someone, people just tend to ignore his advice and since his failed attempt to a proper fence for stop humans, or his spaghetti... and nobody ask him for help anymore, so that type of things are really heartwarming for him, he likes being usefull for the people he loves.

• "I didn't know you were that strong, thats so cool!"

For some reason that he never knew or understood, nobody seems to realize that he's strong, and capable, and hearing You think like that of him, ah, he loves that. He loves You.

• "I knew you could do it, i'm soo happy for you"

• "why i would lie to you? I know you are not stupid, i don't need or want to hide things from you"

• "You're not childish, what? You're just happy and very funny, i don't know who made you think like that but thats not true"

With these three things i think it's the same sensation for him, everybody seems to think of him like this, manchild, this incompenent, incapable, dumb and naive boy, but he's not, and he hates that type of thing, but You can see him for him, for who he is and not for what he seems like, everybody just lie and try to protect him when he don't need that, like Undyne making up that cooking lessons just to distract him from the royal guard, or Sans that keeps things away from him with his stupid jokes or white lies like he's some kind of child that need protection to preserve his innocence.

He thinks that you seeing him, is one second thing most fantastic that You can offer him, they first is you in general.

Thats all!! Byeee!! Xoxox

[the-witty-pen-name]

Nothing But Trouble (1)

Billy Hargrove x Shy!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Synopsis: Billy has done everything in his power to completely destroy his life- like his goal is to crash and burn before he even gets a chance to start. Assigned as his peer tutor at Hawkins Community College, begrudgingly you are slowly helping pull himself up out of the hole he dug for himself. Somewhere along the way, he falls for you and in a turn of events you’d never predict for yourself, you fall for him too. 

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI (nothing in this chapter, but will be in later chapters); mentions of abusive parents (Billy's Dad); struggles with mental health; seeking help for mental health; flirting; some fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing for Billy so please let me know how I did- and what you'd like to see next!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

No one expected Billy to have stayed in Hawkins following graduation. Furthermore, no one expected to see him enroll at the local community college. His plan had always been to get the fuck away from Neil and flee to the furthest place he could conceivably go. It had been his plan to escape for as long as he could remember. The Hargrove household was never a place he could ever call home.

No one knew the reason he stuck around. People theorized he stayed because of lack of money, or because he was a big fish in a small pond in Hawkins, etc. He stayed for Max- a plan to get his shit together and save her too. He didn’t believe it himself. No one would believe him if he ever admitted it anyways. 

Stupid fucking pipe dream that he’d never amount to- moving back to California and bringing Max and Susan with him. He’d swear he’d get his act together and step up for them. He’d change and be a big brother- step up and be the man of the family. However, Billy wasn’t that guy- he didn’t know how to be that guy. He was stuck in a spiral of hatred and self-destruction. He knew who he needed to be, but it wasn’t who he became.

Most of the time, Billy, if he did show up to class, showed up hungover or sleep deprived or just couldn’t get his shit together. He’d snap at his professors and peers. Mandated by the Dean by threat of being expelled, he began sessions with the school therapist- which turned into a referral to one mental health counselor after another until Billy felt he’d been turned from the inside out and dissected until he had nothing left to disclose. 

It was unlike him, very uncharacteristically so, to go along with all of it. He doesn’t know what possessed him to spill it all- break down in the stuffy little office on east campus. He felt like he was pushed off of a precipice and he kicked and screamed the whole way down. It all came out- every emotion he bottled up- all of his anger. All of his deep rooted, ignored until it was bigger him, true fucking sadness just ruptured and he couldn’t stop it. 

He’s broken- so fucking broken. But he’s willing to change. He needs to change. He’d decided that he won’t become Neil. He won’t be anything like that bastard. He needed to turn his life around or this fucking bullshit would consume him like he’s let it go this long. 

So this is how in the beginning of his second year- two semesters away from his associates, he’s stuck spending his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with a tutor. Amidst the revelation for self improvement, he’s realized he should probably start to get his shit together. Almost too late in the game, as he coasted with mostly C’s and a few well deserved D’s and now he’s desperate to get his grades up.

Valedictorian of Hawkins High, no one expected you to stay in Hawkins following graduation. You were destined for greatness- the one to break the working class cycle. You were the one with the one way ticket to university and you were supposed to be leaving nothing behind but tire tracks. Yet, you’re here. No one understood why. Enrolled in your hometown community college and rumored to stay in Hawkins for the rest of your life. 

Both of you wanted to be anywhere but here. Which is why for the past 3 sessions of tutoring, Billy never said one word and you didn’t either. Your initial questions were met with shrugs and silence, but you were fine with that. You could wait it out- the school paid you either way. It made no difference to you whether or not he passed or failed. You just didn’t understand why he kept bothering to show up. 

Billy never bothered you the same way he got his long list of enemies at Hawkins High. Surprisingly, he left you alone. You’d have thought you’d have been an easy target- nerdy, shy and awkward. Billy and your paths didn’t cross often. You’d see him at parties occasionally, but it was nothing more than a glance from across the crowd. You couldn’t even really call each other acquaintances. 

You’d sign his paper he needed to give back to his academic advisor, proving he came to tutoring. Then, you’d both leave. Both of you would show up the next week on time, sit in silence and the cycle would continue. Until it didn’t. 

You didn’t show up on time, and Billy sat in the library waiting for you. He would check the clock, watch the door, and then check the clock again. Where the fuck were you? You walk in, late and looking flustered. You look like you’d just run here, but he doesn’t ask. You take your usual seat across from him and flip your binder open. He notices the grease on the front of your sweater. 

“Car trouble?” He asks, and your eyes snap up to look at him. 

“He speaks,” you say with shock. You settle back against the chair. “Um, yeah, my car has been giving me a lot of trouble,” you admit. 

“How’d you get here?” He asks, and he’s not sure why he even cares. 

“I took my bike- well, I stole my brother’s bike which was at one point mine so…”

Billy smiled. You don’t miss it. A little crack of light seeping in from his gruff exterior. He won’t let you see it for too long, but you enjoy it while he does. You’re amusing him, but you don’t feel like the butt of the joke. Maybe, just maybe, he’s warming up to you. Silence falls between the two of you again, the only sounds that fill the void are the turning of the pages in your binder. 

He knows he’s wasting his own time, and he’s also wasting yours. He can’t find it in himself to legitimately ask for your help. He doesn’t do that- Hargroves don’t do that. You figure your shit out on your own because no one else is going to care about you, he picked that up from his dad quickly. So, he settles for silence. He’ll flip through the pages of his textbook that he’s still pissed he had to buy, and steal glances at you as you study for yourself. 

He remembers you from Hawkins High, and he’s sure you remember him. He wants to know why you’re even still here- last he heard, you were supposed to be going off to one of the Ivy leagues like Harvard or some shit like that. How did you get from there to here? He shouldn’t care, but it’s the most interesting thing he’s had to think about that didn’t revolve around him. 

He’d thought about asking you out before, back in high school. He never did. You intimidated him. He didn’t know how to navigate you like he did other people. He also knew with that good head on your shoulders, you’d reject him. And he didn’t want to admit that rejection was something he couldn’t handle. Things aren’t that much different now, except this gift of time together which he’s choosing to squander away. 

“Do you want a ride?” he asks as you hand him back his sheet with your signature. The question surprises you, it was something you wouldn’t expect from him. “I could take a look at your car if you wanted- that is something I actually know,” he smirks. Where did this come from? You wonder. 

“Uh, yeah- that’d be great,” you say, and he can tell the question caught you off guard. “Will the bike fit?”

“Should,” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You follow him back out of the library to the parking lot. After you unlock the bike from the bike rack, he walks it over to his car for you. He’s able to maneuver it into the truck with just a little effort. Then, he walks over and opens the passenger door for you. 

Okay then. 

The ride is pretty much quiet except when you need to give him directions. The radio is playing and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along with the song playing. You don’t live too far from the school, not that Billy cared. You’re watching the houses pass by out the passenger window and you don’t see Billy sneaking glances at you occasionally when he thinks he can get away with it. He’d imagined this scenario a few times with you, you in his car with him- maybe he’s driving you home after a date or something,  but he’d never admit that. That would show weakness, and he’s not weak. 

“You can pull in the driveway next to my car,” you instruct- pointing to your house. He backs in, so it’s easier to get the bike. He doesn’t get your door this time, but he instead goes to get the bike out of his car for you. He rolls it to the side of the house, and rests it against the side carefully. You walk over to your car, and get into the driver’s seat so you can pop the hood. 

“Get me rag?” Billy asks, looking over the engine, pulling the dipstick out from its holder. “Have you checked your oil recently?”

“Uh nope,” you admit, a little embarrassed. You disappear into the house for a moment and return with some rags. You can’t help but feel a little nervous- a little ashamed. You didn’t like not knowing things. This was an area where you really didn’t have any confidence and you were anxious that Billy would see that. You were worried he might judge you.

“C’mere, I can show you,” he says, “It’s really simple.” You step closer to him, flush against his side so you can see where he’s working. “Make sure your car has been off for a while so the oil settles in the tank- this is the dipstick- it will show you the level of oil. You wipe it off clean.” He takes the rag and wraps it around the stick and then pulls it through the rag to wipe it completely. 

He shows you the end of the stick. “Those two little dots? When you put the stick back in, you want the oil to be somewhere between them. If it doesn’t reach there- you know it’s low.” He puts the dipstick back in position and lets it sit for a few seconds and then pulls it back out. Oil coated the end of the stick and it didn’t come up to the first dot. You frowned. 

“Your car probably has a sensor that stops you from starting the car when the oil is low,” he explains. “Which is a good thing, so I think your car is fine.” 

“That’s it?” You ask, dumbfounded. “Is it that easy?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah, I mean- pretty much. Just need to put more oil in,” he shrugs, pleased with himself that you seem to be impressed by him.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, “I’m sorry you came out of your way for something so simple-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he grins. “Least I can do.” 

He shows you how to add more oil- even though he knows you’d be able to piece it together yourself. You’re thankful for his instruction anyways- you tend to get nervous about things you’ve never done. Granted, he’s right that it was easy- but still, you didn’t want to mess up your car. You just felt better with him here. When you’re both done, he reaches up to close the hood and you do your best not to stare. He starts your car and the engine roars to life. 

You literally jump up and down with excitement. When Billy steps out of the car you don’t even think about it when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist and he smiles, not sure what he did to deserve this much praise- not that he would ever complain being close to you like this. Once you realize what you did, you panic and break away. You stare at the ground, nervously. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly shy. You shove your hands into your back pockets just to give them something to do. Billy smiles, enjoying all of it far too much. He bites his lip watching your body language. He liked that he made you a little nervous. It gave him a little boost of confidence. 

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” he flirted. 

You open your mouth to respond and your words fail you. This is just so new, this feeling that is beginning to bubble up. This is a side of Billy you don’t think anyone knew existed. It’s making you look at him in a new light, and you don’t know why you are beginning to feel this way. His eyes trail up and down, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your breath hitch. How did you end up like this? You tug anxiously at the sleeves of your sweater. 

“So, um,” he licks his lips. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “See ya. Thanks again.”

TAGLIST:@sunshinepeachx@downbear@fanlifeaamt@exploding-bonbon@losingmygrasponreality@skiddypiddy@andvys@djodirt@moonlightsolo@kyga01@sheisjoeschateau@melaninjhs@v3lv3tf0x@purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles@sunshine-mrk@danymunsonharrington@mrsjellymunson@fanficfantik@the-unforgivenn@punkrockmlchael

[kumikokane]

Moonlight song competition cards

SR Whitney R. Bristol

"O-oh man, there's so many people... I sure hope March actually got the dress code correct."

SR March Hawthorne

"Hah! Nah, I totally nailed the dress code. See? I know what I'm doing. Just sit back and have fun, I'll take care of the complicated stuff."

Some art I made for @sunnysidesevenup 's event! This was really fun, I enjoyed the ocean-esque theme a lot. Here's the full body outfits I designed for them:

For Whitney, I decided I wanted to go with a jellyfish inspired look. The little ribbons attached to her skirt are supposed to be like tentacles, and the layers are transparent because a lot of jellyfish are too. I drew her barefoot here, but in my mind thats really only during the actual preformence. She'd bring a pair of sandles or flats to wear around town, cause concrete and sand get HOT in the sun. I've burned my feet way too many times going to the beach. I also added a little clock to her headpiece, because she's inspired by the white rabbit but I couldn't figure out how else to incorporate the staple pocket watch. I absolutely adore the way her outfit turned out, but all the layers being transparent makes them such a pain to draw LMAO 😭 Never again....... *I whisper as I imagine myself drawing a groovy art for her*

For March's, I didn't really think an animal theme would fit him? So instead I decided to take some inspiration from sunken treasure chests/pirate ships. I gave him a coin belt cause gold coins, he's also wearing a net because it kinda makes me think of worn down sails and stuff. I replaced his usual clunky earring with huge pearls, and instead of a headpiece I had him stick stray pieces of coral in his hair. The leaves on his right knee are supposed to be like seaweed, and the outfit is covered in barnacles because uh. Yeah! I'm so bad at explaining things sorry guys 😔 I'm just praying yall see the vision

Along with the drawings, I also wrote a little story! I'm gonna leave it at the bottom so you don't have to scroll through it to read my notes. It's not very long, but I had free time and thought it'd be fun to write something about how they got to the competition in the first place, since it wasn't by conventional means. I don't write often, but I might write a little more for this when I have free time. I've got a little story going on in my head and it'd be cool to try and put it somewhere. Any criticism is appreciated, I'm always looking to improve my writing skills :) Once again, this was a lot of fun to make! Both the story and the outfits, and I'm happy I could participate. Not good at putting my thoughts out but uh ⭐️ gold star!

"So... That's it? That's why Cay Cay the cake slice is gonna be gone?" March tilted his head to the side, the large piercings on his ears clattering against his phone mic. "Arlo, Arlo.... Sounds familiar. I'm sure I've heard that name pass my ears before. Can't really remember though- he must not be important. Well, maybe a little bit if Cater knows him."

Whitney winces, adjusting the grip she had on her phone as she walked back and forth in her empty dorm room. "Uh, I-I think that's.. Well, I mean..." She sighs, trying to find the words. "You don't go to our school, so of course you wouldn't know people from here. I'm more surprised the name actually sounds familiar to you, I didn't think you've heard of anyone outside of Heartslabyul."

"Oh, he's not a Heartslabyul student? Makes more sense. What's he look like, then? Maybe I saw him in passing once, or something." March tries his best to recall any information he might have on anyone named Arlo.

"Arlo..? Uh, well... He has like, black fluffy hair with blonde bangs. And greenish eyes? I think?" Whitney stops, trying to think of any good descriptions of him. "Oh, he's short. Shorter than me. He's part of the newspaper club. Um... He's likes to take pictures of flowers and stuff."

"Huh... Little guy who likes to take pictures?" March scratches at his head. "... Oh. Oh! OH! Ha, that's the little loverboy!" He suddenly starts laughing hysterically.

"Little... Loverboy? That's not really a word I think most people would use to describe him. A-are you sure we're talking about the same person..?"

"Absolutely! I know the little guy veryyy well! Even if he doesn't know a lot about me." March takes a swig from his water bottle, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Oh, man! Imagining him, singing? That's hilarious, I didn't think he had it in him."

Whitney's ears twitch as she listens to March laugh. "Uh... Okay, explanation? Maybe..?? When you say it like that, i-it just sounds like you're stalking him."

"Oh please, he wishes I was stalking him. Almost everything I know about him is against my will. Yeah, I call him loverboy because he's like... Dating Neige, or something. I don't really know, but Neige will sometimes spend the entirety of lunch gushing about the guy. I call him little because, he's short. And it makes him mad when I call him little."

"So... You have met him? Since when? He doesn't come anywhere near Heartslabyul. At least, I haven't seen him around here."

"Yeah, once. Maybe twice, I can't remember. Neige was talking about the guy so much I just had to see what all the buzz was about. He was so angry, like a little Chihuahua, it was fucking hilarious bro." He says, chucking at the memory. "But yeah, I just followed Neige here once to meet him before going to the unbirthday party."

"You followed Neige to meet Arlo? It still sounds like you're stalking him, March. Do I need to report you to school security? I have the app, you know."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. As if your shitty headmage would do anything about it anyways." March rolls his eyes, thinking about the NRC headmage. The only way he could picture the guy actually doing anything is if it made it on the news or something. "Back to the topic at hand, please? So, do you know where the town is?"

".. Huh..?" She pauses again. "Uh, no, not really. B-but if you need the address, Cater would probably give it to you." Whitney takes a seat at her bed now, a bad feeling crawling up her spine.

"Nah, won't ask him. The town's name is what again? We can find it on Google maps or something." Shuffling comes from the other side of the phone. "You're on speaker now, say hi to the wind."

Whitney frowned, not liking the way the conversation was heading. "We? Wait, why- Hi wind... W-why do we need to figure out where the town is? I'm sure Cater will remember to post pictures and videos, if that's what you want-"

"Nah, this ain't about him Nini. We're gonna go to the competition too." March declares, texting Whitney a link on Google maps to the town's location. "Look, see? It's not that bad. We don't even need a car or anything, you can just create a rabbit hole and boom! We'll be there in no time."

"You want to go to the competition?! Why?!" Whitney yells out louder then intended, suddenly covering her mouth and whispering into the phone. "W-we can't go! We weren't invited!"

"Really? So what if we weren't invited? It's a public event, isn't it? We don't need anyone's permission to be there. It'll be easy, we'll just go sign up and preform and then win the big grand prize at the end! You don't even have to sing, you can just sit back and look pretty while I enchant the crowd with my dazzling vocals. Hear, listen-" March takes a deep breath, preparing to demonstrate his singing skills.

"No!" Whitney interrupts, "Y-you don't get it! They all know who I am! Everyone i-in the group he brought along- Arlo knows who I am! A-and I don't think he likes me very much..." She says with a dejected tone, unbraiding her hair to try and de-stress. "I-I can't just show up to his home town for some event! Do you know how weird that is?? He's in the newspaper club too, he'll probably tell everyone what a creep I am and then everyone at school will know! 'Hey guys, uhh you know that weird bunny girl from class C? Yeahhh she like totally followed me to my hometown and then tried to play it off by bringing her friend with her.' I can't live like that!"

March scowls, huffing loudly into the phone mic to voice his displeasure. "Well, first of all don't interrupt me. Second of all, there's no reason to freak out. He's just an asshole who hates everyone, his hatred won't be specifically aimed at you. If anything, he'll probably aim it at me cause I like pissing him off- Always remember Nini, please everyone is hard. Making everyone mad is easy, and funny."

Whitney stays silent, brushing through her hair with her fingers. "... I-I don't know, March. Even if nobody will hate my guts for the rest of my school life..." She trails off, not knowing how to finish her sentence.

March groans dramatically at this, moving his phone closer to his mouth as he speaks. "Nini! You're such a party pooper cause you're so indecisive. I'm making the decision for you, we're going to the competition. You're gonna have fun, so quit fussing about every little detail! One of these days we're gonna get you some benzodiazpines for whatever anxiety you got, I swear." March mumbles the last part under his breath, rolling his eyes. "I'll do all the planning and stuff, just be ready to head out by tomorrow, k? I guess by like, 3 or something. Great, bye!"

"W-what? March, wait-!" She tries to stop, but March suddenly hangs up the phone on her, leaving her alone in the quiet dorm. She sighs, taking out her pocket watch to check the time. "3pm tomorrow..? We'd probably arrive before Arlo's group does. I'll have to take all my assignments with me, and triple tell Riddle that I'll be leaving. And pick out all my money for the trip to make sure we don't starve..." Whitney frowns, not exactly fond of this suddenly change in her usual schedule. "I hate taking trips..." She shakes her head, her ears twitching again as she stands up from her bed and looks around. "... Well, we're doing this I guess. Better start preparing.."

Thanks for reading!

[milesmeles]

Dance As a Form of Euphoria

I've never really been a dancer. Never took classes, never thought I was particularly "good."

Since starting theatre school though, I have had to take multiple dance classes in order to graduate. Among those, was contemporary dance. The professor is one of the most intelligent, thoughtful human beings I have ever met... Occasionally, we would stop everything and meditate, but more often we would do something called "gaga."

"Gaga" is a form of dance technique that gets you moving. It allows you to explore your space, your mind, your body; it encourages you to expand beyond your typical sets if movement.

Why is this important for species euphoria? Well, for starters, it really centralizes on YOU. You are supposed to move however is most natural and intuitive to you. So being nonhuman, that means my mind naturally went to a more "animalistic" side. During the course of a gaga session, the instructor will yell out a prompt. Something like, "You are spaghetti in a boiling pot, and it's getting hotter by the second!" Or, "You are a blade of grass just swaying in the wind."

Yes, the prompts include specific wording, but my mind would always drift to a therianthropic side of things. Sometimes we would go into fetal position, and to me, that would be something like, "Oh okay I'm curled up in my den." Or some of the more sensory prompts like "You can smell a delicious candle" would translate more to "I'm smelling the earthy countryside."

Contemporary dance is a very flux style. There aren't very many "rules" necessarily, other than knowing the vocabulary of other styles for ease of instruction. This means one can interpret this style however they please. You can put any intention into the energy of the dance and go from there.

Plus, floorwork is common, meaning you're all up on the floor, sometimes writhing, sometimes crawling, sometimes rolling. For a lot of theriotypes, being on the ground is a nice connection to who they are. While quadrobics may be the hottest way of doing it, I think that being on the ground through dance feels more natural:

You aren't working against your current (I know, sorry) anatomy.

It doesn't have to feel "clunky," which is a feeling often described by people who aren't fond of quads. You can control the flow of the floorwork and do it however you need to do it; it's flux.

There is intention. Many less "short bursts" of being on all-fours, much more "there is a reason I'm down here right now."

Music adds a whole other layer. A lot of music used commonly in contemporary choreo is abstract but pleasant, almost just as natural sounding as the dance itself.

The werewolf in me appreciates going from twos to fours ^^

Those are just my thoughts. If anybody else has personal connections to therianthropy through dance, I would love to hear it. It's worth giving the combination a shot if you haven't thought about it yet!!