#Using the opening from the book as an opening for this shit show

[cecilyv]

New Fic: the chain I forged (9-1-1, buck/tommy)

Happy Holidays, my friends. @liminalmemories21 and I had Tommy get Christmas Caroled just for y'all. Wherein he meets some ghosts (or possibly hallucinates as a result of whatever was in those shots Lucy handed him last night). Either way, he’s too old for this shit.

"I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it." — Jacob Marley, in Charles Dicken's, A Christmas Carol

11.6k | General Audiences

[Read here on Ao3]

He comes awake abruptly, the hair on the back of his arms standing straight up. He lays there, trying to get his breathing back under control, when he hears the chair creak on the other side of the room. Shit. Fuck. Damn. There’s someone here. And not in the fun kind of way, the way he'd gotten used to with Evan — shit, Buck (he still gets that wrong in his head, when he's half asleep, still a little drunk). He'd gotten used to Buck getting up in the middle of the night, and then pausing before he got back into bed to take a sip of water, put on chapstick. Six months shouldn't have been enough to overwrite the pattern of a lifetime of sleeping alone. But— He still reaches for Evan — fuck. Buck. He still reaches for Buck when he wakes up, expects the heat of him next to him in bed, expects his pillow to smell like Buck’s shampoo and aftershave.

This time though, there's a person in his room and it's not Buck; doesn’t sound like him, smell like him. He breathes and smells dirt and cold and rot. He keeps his eyes closed, facing the ceiling, trying to remember what he might have on hand to defend himself with. Tries to figure out how this person got into his house without setting off the alarms. What he's here to steal.

"I know you're awake," whoever it is says, voice low and raspy like he doesn’t use it much. There's a rustle of fabric as the guy shifts position. "I ain't here to hurt you. You can go on and sit up, open your eyes."

He pushes himself up warily, flicks on the light and blinks in the sudden brightness. Blinks again. A burglar in a Halloween costume was not on his list of possible scenarios. And why, he wonders, if you're going to dress up to break into people's houses, wouldn't you wear a mask?

He’s wearing a cowboy hat, and a vest, but what Tommy can’t look away from (and doesn’t want to look at at all, honestly) is his skin so tight across his face it’s translucent ( like butter scraped over too much bread, a voice in his mind echoes). And the guy has— He squints, and then shakes his head. Looks back. Those look a lot like the inflamed boils Evan — Buck — had had. This seems very specific for a Halloween costume robbery. He would have expected more dead president masks.

"Uh. You're welcome to take whatever you want. I'm not going to fight you on it." It's just stuff.

The guy — the cowboy? — crosses his arms and looks annoyed. "Ain't here for your stuff."

Tommy glances at his bedside table like that's going to reveal that he'd gone to bed with a kitchen knife, or a hammer, or something useful. There's a glass of water and a book he's been saying he's going to read for going on a year now. "Okay. So, why are you here?" Keep him talking, he thinks.

The guy rolls his eyes. "Ain't here to kill you either. Didn't I just say I weren't here to hurt you? Keep up."

He's not sober enough for this. "Okay. I give. Why are you here?"

The guy relaxes, like he's been waiting for this cue. "I'm here to show you what has been, what is, and what is yet to come." And Tommy thinks, okay, Galadriel.

Tommy gives him a blank look, and the guy elaborates. "I owe a debt." He stops, like that’s all the explanation he thinks Tommy should need.

Tommy wracks his brain, but, "I think I would remember meeting you. Was it on a call?"

"Didn't say it was to you.” Pauses and says reflectively, “I wasn't always a good man, but I always paid my debts, and no one can say different." There's another pause and then, “Unless it was to a bank."

Okay, sure. This seems … nope, he’s got nothing. This seems like nothing he can possibly put a name to. This is clearly what he gets for letting Lucy talk him into going out after their last shift, and then letting her buy them shots. The wages of sin. Or something. "Are you seriously telling me you’re here as the Ghost of Christmas Past? Because you owe a life debt? To someone? Who is not me?"

The Ghost — sure, why not — nods, like he's glad Tommy is finally catching up.

He looks closer at the guy, really looks and — leather vest, chaps, boots, boils. Just fuck his life. "You're Billy Boils, aren’t you?"

Billy makes a face, like he tasted something nasty. "William James McCurdy. At your service.”

[luciferanalyzestar]

unpopular opinion: I am glad that zoophobia got abandoned cause as much as it's beautiful vivziepop would ruined it just like what she did with HH and HB,I rather someone else make something similar to it (not 100% copy of it just something similar) and avoiding all viv's mistakes since she's too coward to admit that her writing is shit,maybe if she listened for once her writing would have been improved long time ago

This ask sent me down a rabbit hole I was not ready for.

I never read Zoophobia because I did not hear of Viv until 2019. I was 11 when it released, and I was too busy obsessing over Sonic. From what people who have been following Viv and her history for that long, it was a warning sign of her writing abilities and the lack of variety in her character designs.

The main premise is toss aside for a different premise with no build up: I mean just look like the descriptions of the finished and scrapped Books. How do we go from "woman with a fear of animals becomes a guidance counselor at an academy for anthropomorphic animals" or "mythology"???? How does get from furry hijinks to mythology??? That is a huge jump. Imagine if the Owl House did that? Season 1 stays the same but in season two, Luz goes to a futuristic sci-fi setting like Star Wars or something.

Hazbin was at first: The Princess of Hell opens up a hotel to help Sinners go to Heaven instead of being murked every year.

Hazbin from episode 1 to 8 has a huge in its premise too. No one was asking for a war with Heaven at the end of the season. The whole season was just Charlie pitching the hotel which she already did in the pilot, why are we wasting time of watching her pitch it again??? Season 1 could have focused on the hotel not Heaven, that is should have been saved for season 2.

Helluva was at first: A lower-class imp opens up an assassin business with his fellow imps and his ab going to Earth to kill humans and fucking up shit in the progress. There is a little bit of failed edge in the show too, this is not my little pony! This is a show for adults who grown up Invader Zim and live breath Hot Topic. Now Helluva is just, 2000s core Yaoi that used to be posted on fanfiction.net.

The main female character is sidelined: Cameron was gone by Book 2 (at least from what the wiki states) and was not even featured in the Back Luck Jack short. There are no sources for this, but it is claimed on Cameron's page that Viv was planning on giving her multiple love interests. Why does she always bound female characters to romantic relationships? Also, German chromosomes????? 💀

There are too many characters: Some characters' wikis listed their extended family, their allies, and enemies. I did not click on every character listed but the ones I did were minor background characters who just exist. Why does Kestral and Jackie's mother have a design if she does nothing for the plot? My OCS have parents of course but I am not going design all of their parents, only the ones who are a part of the plot.

The character designs all have the same vibe: Of course, they are all skinny, some are skinny as a broomstick or slim thick.

I found characters with top hots, ashy skin, characters with tannish skin tone with straight hair, the bow ties and pin stripes combo or pin stripe shirt and shorts combo for Mirage. Some characters do not have pronounce feet like they have little numbs like Vaggie and Niffty.

None of the characters who are human or transform into humans have ears! Where are their ears??? Viv cannot draw ears to save her life lmao. The only humans I found with ears was Cameron and this guy. This design "quirk" is still on full blown display in the Hellaverse.

I notice that a lot of characters have similar lore or quirks to the Hellaverse cast:

Cameron has a decease mother = Blitz and Moxxie also have a decease mother.

Addison was originally had a twin sister who was scrapped = Angel and Blitz both have twin sisters.

Camilla (Viv must really like that name) is a pole dancer = Angel is a sex worker is a striper. Also, Camila, who was 21 was supposed to have a crush on the 17 years old Addison.

JayJay has a gold tooth = Angel and Val have a gold tooth.

There are probably more examples, these are the ones that popped out.

There is a pack of wolf lead by the character Queen which is similar to Verosika's crew but there is the twist: Queen is just Kesha. Why was Viv so obsessed with making Kesha into a furry? Why is her name close to Kesha's full name? I have characters based off of celebrities from media I like but I did not name them straight up after that person.

Viv should buy Kesha a fursuit at this point. /j

There is this dude who makes a similar expression to Lucifer. I am losing my goddamn mind.

This reminds how she designed Smoke from Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue looks in her part of the reanimated project.

I wish someone would make a deep drive video about Zoophobia and have a section comparing it to the Hellaverse. Viv published Zoophobia back in 2012 when was around 19 years old. She is now in 32, I do not know about the writing. How she designs characters still has not changed, she is DEEP into that comfort zone.

[fumiscripts]

✦ BIRTHDAY PRINCESS

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

✦ content:: coming back from an overseas match, kaiser didn't expect to find you literally slide towards him to greet him for his birthday

fluff/crack, 1580 words

additional:: reader has ZERO shame, affectionate asf reader, slight suggestive joke but it's so corny we js ignore it, loving kaiser so hard he almost freaks out but the keyword is almost, author did not know what she was doing, semi-rushed ending but that's because author wanted to clutch this for his birthday, swearing warning though I believe people are already used to that

You had a card up your sleeve.

No, seriously. You had a card up your sleeve at the moment. Not a playing card, though. It was a birthday card. For who? Your not-so-lovely boyfriend: Michael Kaiser. Well, now that you think of it, you did have another card up your sleeve. You planned to be a little devious. Just a little. You swear you won't be a public nuisance by doing this.

It's December 24th, a few minutes before midnight. You were in a private lobby of an airport, equipped with a portable speaker and a semi-charged phone, waiting for Kaiser— who was returning from an overseas match— just so you could drive him back home and make him your passenger prince, as a sign of affection, of course.

You kept looking around, staring at the signs that showed flights, waiting for his flight's status to turn to ‘arrived’. It's been a good few hours of waiting, already. You swore you got here right when the sun finished setting. This shit is taking forever. Then again, it was the holidays, so it's to be expected that places like the airport were bustling with people and fully booked flights, which might be the cause of delays.

Right as you thought you might crash out from waiting, they finally announced the planet's arrival. You ascended in joy, proceeding to basically cheer to the heavens above inwardly. You burnt holes into the door of the lobby with just your gaze, going back to your plan of totally not embarrassing both of you in front of the team.

The entrance handle twisted, and the door opened. You see the iconic blond and blue locks as he walks through, and you're filled with familiarity. On cue, you press the play button on your phone, making his eyes snap to you as the audio plays obnoxiously loud through the room.

You catch a brief glimpse of a judgemental expression on Kaiser's face. He barely had any time to ask you what in the actual hell you were doing, before you were already sliding to him on your knees, in sync with the lyrics from the song that blasted from the speakers connected to your phone

“THERE GOES MY BABYYYY.”

“What the fuck–?” his curse was cut off by you making contact with him. He was utterly flabbergasted, and you were just calmly latching onto his torso, just like the clip of this trend you were referencing. Kaiser suddenly grows aware of what was going on, as well as his surroundings, and he suddenly felt like hissing and thrashing away from you like an angry cat that did not want to be picked up.

You were not letting go, though.

With your arms wrapped around his waist, you were completely content with staying like that beside him. He was comfortable to hold, anyway.

Yes, you were just completely ignoring the way he was attempting to peel you off of him like you were some disgusting tick that clung to him. You could tell some of his teammates in the room were staring at you two, too, but you could care less. Hey! At least you didn't do this in public public, right?

You acquired a minor bruise on your side because of that little stunt.

Kaiser accidentally kicked you while trying to shake you off of him. But you could say it was worth it. You wanted to try the trend on him, but he didn't agree like the killjoy he was, saying that ‘he wasn't gonna entertain any of your fantasies about being able to hold him like that, even though that desperate display might be amusing.’ This was the only opportunity you could think of. You definitely had no other choice, so fuck it, you went ball and did it.

Now, he was staring at you— practically scolding you silently. You smiled it off because you were just a chill guy. “I have another card up my sleeve,” you remarked. That sentence alone had him debating whether to question how he was into you or to play along. Kaiser decided to do both, with the former being to himself, and the latter being what he did to you.

“Don't you dare pull some weird shit,” he muttered under his breath, sounding a bit exasperated, before sighing and replying more forwardly. “And that is?” Kaiser prompted, waiting for you to reveal whatever you wanted to show him now. He watches you reach into your sleeve, pulling out an actual card. You took his hand, planting the parchment into his palm— facing down— before retracting your arms, wearing an innocent smile in your face that just screamed mischief.

He looked back and forth between you and the letter in his hands, like you just handed him a ticking bomb. “It's a card for you. Open it,” you urged, and Kaiser could notice how enthusiastic you were, eager to see him read whatever was written. He hesitantly turned his gaze back down at it, unfolding and reading it, purposefully not out loud because he just knows it’s some bizzare freak.

Happy Birth ay!

I’ll give you the d later. ;)

These words were bolded. Kaiser’s eyes went back to you— still smiling with faux innocence— and stared at you disapprovingly, as if you were some abnormality. “...What the fuck?” he asks, making you grin wider in your successful tomfoolery. It was too late for this— or rather, too early. It's already 12 in the morning.

“Isn’t it amazing?” you comment, being met with the card being thrown to you, lightly making contact with your face. You gasped in overdramatic offence, easily catching the piece of paper. “Wow, you have no taste in absolute art,” you remark, leading to Kaiser sneering at you.

“I do. You're the one who doesn't,” he replied, heading away from you and to the exit of the airport, acting like he doesn't know you once passing by a more crowded area. He wasn't gonna associate with your weirdness. 

You went after him with the straightest face you could muster. You were nonchalant like that.

Going to his car, he raised an eyebrow when you led him towards the side where the passenger seat was. He was skeptical about you driving. Who can blame him? He rarely sees you drive, plus it's late at night— though he figures you were less tired than him for still being this energetic. He can trust you with not crashing the car this one time, maybe.

You opened the door for him, really putting in effort into making sure he had full service. Inside the vehicle, the first thing he sees is a bouquet of blue roses on the seat. Then, he notices the little crocheted dog plushie beside it. He turns to look at you, a smirk etching on his face, but you could tell it almost resembled a genuine smile. “You've outdone yourself, huh? I'll give you an A for actually pulling this off.”

“How generous of you,” you say in return, gently closing the car door after him. Once you were in the car, yourself, you started the engine, doing all the necessary safety shit like buckling in your seatbelt and whatnot.

When you turned over to where Kaiser was, he was staring at you. Not in the cute affectionate way, more like he was observing you. “Don’t crash,” he instructs after a short, silent staring contest. You simply smile innocently in return— you've been doing that a lot for a while now— and look back to the steering wheel, putting your hand on it and stepping on the pedal.

How fortunate. You can actually drive decently. Enough to bring you two safely from one point to another.

The plush and flowers were placed on his lap, and he found himself fiddling with the blue petals. Usually, he hates surprises. As well as presents. But coming from you, he supposes it's an exception. It might even be endearing. But perhaps that was just his personal bias due to being your boyfriend.

Kaiser leans on the car window, feeling the cool glass against his skin. You could almost feel those azure eyes watching you while you navigate through the streets, but you kept your own on the road. You could see how his gaze is almost soft, and how the mask of confidence and self-assurance he refused to not wear around others wasn't plastered on his face. You could tell that it was a sight that only you had the privilege of seeing.

It was nice to see him be like this— genuine without hiding behind a constructed facade. It might be cheesy, but you’d forever cherish the way he willingly lets his guard down around you. You could say that that's one of the reasons you like to do things for him.

And to him, having you— someone he found himself genuinely trusting— around was alike to having found a solace. Like a place of refuge. Whenever it was just you and him, he didn't have to be Kaiser: the German prodigy, a football star. He could just be Michael.

Plus, though he might never admit it to you nor himself, he's found himself starting to like the way you give him affection. He's been deprived of it for too long, and you're willing and ready to give it to him with warmth. 

Maybe he could get used to gifts— especially when it's coming from you.

(a/n):: I can't do this I love him sm ANW happy birthday Kaiser ml my pretty wife <33 and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

taglist: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[pluckyredhead]

Do you have any thoughts on Batman having “agents” (sometimes subtle, sometimes not) on various teams? This comes purely from my notion of Cassandra Cain being the straight man in a Justice League International book

To be honest, I have a kneejerk negative reaction to it, because it feels like there are two immediate potential pitfalls:

The agent character is written as just an extension of Bruce, without their own personality and ethical framework. Like, you used Cass as an example, and she's arguably the closest in alignment with Bruce's mission and goals, but she's still her own person and, when written well, is not going to blindly obey him or make only the exact same decisions he would. Someone like Jason or Steph? Forget about it.

The book becomes all about Bruce when he's not even on the team. I could see this happening whether the agent character is doing everything he says, or pushing back aggressively. Bruce is in enough books, I don't need him worming his way into any more.

I wracked my brain to think of positive examples and funnily enough, the two examples I came up with were times that the character in question isn't working with Bruce/using Bruce's methods, but it is believed that they are:

The Young Justice arc right after everyone finds out that Bruce has contingency plans against the Justice League, when the kids want to know if Tim has contingency plans against them (he doesn't). Bruce doesn't even show up, because it's not actually about him - it's about Tim's relationship with his team and whether or not they can trust him when he hasn't even told them his secret identity after literal years. It's GREAT.

The Outsiders 2003 bit where Roy confesses that he's been getting intel on all their missions from Batman, and Dick throws a huge tantrum because he and Bruce aren't really getting along and he doesn't appreciate essentially being tricked into working for Bruce. Eventually he calms down and goes to the Batcave and is like "Hey sorry I freaked out about you working with Arsenal" and Bruce is like "...I'm not working with Arsenal" and Dick calls Roy who is meeting with Batman on a roof and is like "Um...what are you doing right now?" and Roy's like "Talking to Batman" and Dick's like "NO YOU'RE NOT" and it turns out the person Roy thought was Batman this whole time is Slade in disguise. Which is especially funny because the man has a beard. Like, has Roy spent so long looking at Ollie's goatee that he doesn't process facial hair anymore? Anyway then Slade kicks Roy's ass and scampers off into the night, but that story also isn't about Bruce. It's a little bit about Dick and Roy's relationship, but it's mostly about Slade beating Roy up while telling him "I wanted to take you for a test drive to see how you handle on the open road" (I SHIT YOU NOT HE SAYS THIS IN THE COMIC) and then cutting his shirt open with a sword (Roy also did not notice that Beard Batman HAS A SWORD) and ogling his bare chest and bullet scars. It's literature.

Ahem. I've gotten a little bit away from my point here, but basically...there's no need to make a Bat be Bruce's agent on a team when they can just...be on a team as themselves. They do it all the time. Cass is on Birds of Prey right now and she's an absolute delight.

[ryuzakemo128]

Omegaverse headcanons

CW: dark stuff mentioned.

In the same universe as my omegaverse parts

Pairing: Poly141 x female reader. With Nikolai included to a degree.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two

One. You don’t get it when someone wears denim jeans into the desert. “What the fuck is this?” you asked, borderline annoyed. Your frustration showing this time, “Soap, march up there and get changed, you’ll sweat up a fucken storm. We’re going into a desert location, not fucken fashion week.” 

Two. You have a bath at eleven o’clock regardless of time zone or location. In hot weather it's a cold bath and in cold weather. It's a reasonably hot one. A creature of habit is what Price loved to call you. Even if you bit him on the hand once.

Three. You never miss a training session. Ever. If they thought they can get you to skip it? They’d be told, ‘I’m sleeping on the couch tonight’. And not, ‘You’re sleeping on the couch tonight' because what’s worse than a partner who only won’t sleep in the same bed as you. But also won’t fuck any of them during that night either.

Four. You hate when people don’t eat breakfast. It’s like not having ammo in your pocket before you go out on a mission. Sure, you might not need it, but if you do, you’re fucked. And no, a black coffee doesn’t count.

Five. You hate when people don’t clean up after themselves. You don’t live in a barracks anymore, you’ve got a penthouse in the city now, but that doesn’t mean you can throw your socks anywhere. You’ve got a basket, use it. And for fuck’s sake, don’t leave your gun on the coffee table.

Six. You have an ever-growing collection of knives, from bone knives to Damascus steel knives. They all have stories. They're all displayed neatly in a glass case in your penthouse. Price has made a habit of not asking where they came from. Fully aware of where the bone knives came from.

Seven. “No, Price, I don’t care. If Nikolai isn’t living here, you can’t fuck him here. End of story. Good night and go fuck yourself.” you reprimanded from the master bedroom ensuite. “In the grace of my good will, you may stay over his place and nothing more, nothing less.”

Price wasn’t terribly happy with that, but he knew you were right. If they wanted to mess around with someone who isn’t living there? They better do in their house, under their roof and in their domain. The only strict rule you enforced quite well. For a good reason too. Their nests were in here, and you didn’t want anyone else’s scent mingling with yours, except for those who lived there permanently. Plus, you liked your privacy.

Eight. Your back tattoo is still something Price and Ghost love staring at, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

The words etched into an archway, 'The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:’ and the words, ‘But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.’ is etched into the open gateway, gilded in gold and silver. As if thunder and lighting struck down onto the pavement leading into a ‘heaven’. 

If there even was one? You don’t know, and you don’t even want to pretend to know if there is one, too. You’ve seen enough shit to fill a library with horror books. Enough to know some questions just don’t have answers or have answers you don’t want to hear. 

Nine. You love lavender cigarettes over cigars, tobacco, chewing tobacco, normal cigarettes. Vaping was fine, but you liked the raw taste of the cigarette in your mouth, the way it burned down your throat and into your lungs. You'd sit on the balcony with the cool breeze, watching the city lights twinkle like distant stars, a cigarette dangling between your lips.

Herbal cigarettes and vapes were common for you, a way to keep the inner ‘beast’ in check without the use of sex, raw meat or a cage fight. Lavender is said to soothe the ‘savage beast’ according to your mother. But you liked to think of it as a way to keep the peace, to keep your mind from wandering to places you’d rather keep locked away.

Ten. You've got a thing for rain. It's like your inner wolf comes out, yearning for the wet fur and the smell of damp earth. You'd sit by the windowsill, letting the droplets kiss your skin, the smoke from your cigarette curling around your form. Sometimes, when the weather is just right, you'd go out onto the balcony and let it soak you.

Price eventually found you outside in the rain one afternoon on the balcony, vaping a strong lavender-scented electronic cigarette. You were wearing a black men’s shirt with a double-sided dragon graphic print on it. Draping over her, large enough to swim in by the looks of it. One of the men’s shirts she usually bought for herself. 

Eleven. You eventually showed the four of them around your walk-in closet, “Thrifted or bought impulsively.” you told them. “Take a good look.”

And Price has seen the large collection of men’s shirts, jackets, and hoodies you have. It was a walk-in closet with a collection of dark clothing far too big for you. But you loved how comfortable they felt on you. How the fabric hung off your shoulders like comforting armour.

Twelve. You wear men’s deodorant, which Soap finds to be rather amusing. “You know, darling, there’s stuff for females, too.” he teased one morning, holding up the stick deodorant he found in your drawer.

“But do they have any smelling like lavender & cinnamon or dark chocolate or leather & cookies or coconut & black pepper?” Soap looked at your Lynx body sprays which you usually put on after a shower. Which for the rest of them?

The large bottle of body wash in your shower is a mix of both types. The lynx Dark chocolate, the ‘golden temptation’, which is a molten chocolate blended with fresh citrus and smoky amber. Along with goat’s milk body wash, which is more for sensitive skin, sometimes even your scent can be overpowering to the alphas.

Thirteen. Cartoon movies like Anastasia, Care Bears, The Wild Thornberrys, Teenage Ninja Turtles, Rugrats, and SpongeBob were your guilty pleasure. You could spend hours watching them, even if you've seen them a hundred times before. You liked the simplicity of them, the way they made you feel like a kid again. You felt complete, perfect, right to watch them.

Fourteen. You cook with slow cookers a lot, Gaz saw you use four at once one afternoon when he came from his solo missions. Two for wagyu beef stew and two for salted caramel fudge. You were busy since four in the morning, and you were having a nap by seven in the morning as they slowly cooked. 

Fifteen. You have a pet wolf named 'Mona Lisa' because she smirks when she's being cheeky, and she's got a penchant for stealing socks. You found her as a pup when you were on a mission and smuggled her back home. Now she's got her own room in the penthouse, filled with plush toys and a giant dog bed that she rarely sleeps in, preferring the floor beside yours.

Price came face to face with the wolf pup, Mona Lisa, a northwestern wolf with deep piercing copper eyes, staring at him intently. He'd never seen such a creature so close, especially not in the penthouse. “I take it she's yours?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“As much as she wants to be.” you replied.

Price leaned down, looking into her eyes, “What does that mean?”

“I don't own her, just as much she doesn't own me.” You said, stroking her fur gently. “We're just roommates who share a very complicated relationship. She's got free rein of the place, does whatever she wants, and I don't question it.” You couldn't help the fond smile that played on your lips as Mona Lisa leaned into your touch, her tail thumping against the floorboards. “And much like other wolves of her species, she is territorial and defends her territory against intruders.”

Price chuckled, “So she's the unofficial security system, huh?”

“More like a bodyguard, but that works too.”

Price laughed, his eyes lighting up as he watched you with Mona Lisa. It was a strange dynamic, but it worked. The wolf had taken a liking to you from the moment she was brought into the penthouse. And she was as protective of you as any of the guys were, maybe more.

Sixteen. You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You were left to wander the expanse of earth. Alone. For a time before they came into the picture. You were harsher than the winds of the desert sandstorm, colder than the snowy Ural Mountains, and more elusive than a ghost in a haunted mansion.

You had no pack, no back-up, and with absolute certainty? No way of knowing what you are that made you seem so unapproachable by everyone around you. You didn’t know what made you monstrous to those who had trained you. Whatever it was? They refused to make a lick of sense over it. And before you know it, you were left to rot in the middle of nowhere. 

You have a heat cycle which is both intense at times and “Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz likes to have every Halloween.”

Though there are times when you were in heat, and you barely noticed. Either it was very faint or you were too distracted to particularly pay extra attention. 

Your heat is either in intense or faint, it was always a coin flip between the two. Perhaps this is another reason why you don’t fall into any of the three categories of Alpha, Beta, or Omega. 

Price caught you looking up quizzes like ‘What wolf are you?’,  ‘Are you a true loner?’,  ‘Are you an Alpha, Beta, or Omega?’ and ‘Where are you on the omegaverse hierarchy?’ 

You were still fighting the military to get them to give you your medical results, it was an uphill battle with no mountain to fall onto. 

You threw your hands up, exasperated, “Why is it so hard for them to just hand me my own fucking medical records?” You sighed, slumping into the chair at the dining table.

Price shrugged, sitting across from you, “Maybe they think you’re a danger to yourself and others if you find out what you are. Or maybe they just lost it.”

“Their minds or the records?”  You quipped, eating a slice of apple from the fruit salad you made for breakfast. 

Price chuckled, taking a seat beside you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks, “Could be both, knowing how the military loves to keep its secrets.”

“Like a whore who keep all tips for herself,” Soap grinned, sauntering into the kitchen. He had always had a knack for making everything sound like a double entendre.

“Or CEO of a billion-dollar company who refuses to pay it employees livable wages.” you quipped.

Seventeen. You were meticulous in your guns, specific about certain things like the cleanliness of your rifles, handguns and organising them by type, calibre, use, and then by the date of purchase. 

The ammunition is given the same treatment, even if there was back-up stored away somewhere. They were neatly organised too.

You had a knack for knowing where everything was without looking. It was like a sixth sense. You could be in the middle of a conversation and point to the exact spot where a gun was kept. It was unnerving at first especially your memorisation process is basically staring, touching and then memorising the layout. You had a way with the weapons that was almost sensual, a dance of precision and power.

Even the gun oils you used were separated, one for rifles, one for handguns, one for magnums and another for pistols. You had a scent to each of them, and you knew the smell of each like the back of your hand. It was almost a comforting scent, one that filled the air when you were in the penthouse armoury. It smelled like home, like the smell of your mother's kitchen when she was cooking up a storm.

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Size kink w/ dallas winston?

Anyone?

Just me?

Deliciously Delicate

Synopsis: Dally just got out of the cooler, what a better way to celebrate freedom than visiting his baby doll?

Tags/CWs: Size kink, hand jobs, Gn! reader but could be read as Fem! reader, Penetration, smoking, typical greaser style, social status is left up for interpretation, reader is called baby doll, kinda sorta aftercare.

(Credits to @riottsrph for the post divider)

When he stepped out of the cooler, Dally had 2 things on his mind: His baby doll and cigarettes. The loud sounds of the Tulsa streets did nothing to distract him, but it did serve as nice background noise. The sound of Dion Dimucci's "The Wanderer" caught his ear as he passed by the music store. "Oh well, I'm the type of guy who will never settle down. Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around. I kiss 'em and I love 'em 'cause to me they're all the same, I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em, they don't even know my name. They call me the wanderer. Yeah, the wanderer. I roam around, around, around... "

"Ain't that the truth..." Dally thought as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up one of the cancer sticks. Sucking in the nicotine laced smoke didn't do much in terms of actually being enjoyable, but it did make him seem tuff. And tuff was the way to describe him... among other words.

Dally let his feet guide him to where he knew he was going first, baby doll's house. The place where his girlfriend was residing at. After all, that's where they normally were after 3, so it was where he was going.

Knocking on the window, the soft sound rousing his baby doll from bed to their feet. The curtains drew and there they stood, looking down at the hood. Their eyes darted between the cigarette in his mouth and the window.

Dally sighed, already knowing what she wanted. Dally liked his cancer sticks but something made wasting this one worth it. He stubbed out his cigarette and once they saw that it was out, they opened the window and helped the hood inside.

"Come on, ya hood..." They grunted as their smaller hands grabbing his larger, calloused hands. Dally took this help, knowing what was to come soon after.

"Hey baby doll..." He smiled as he leaned down to their height, his fingers tilting their chin up to look at him... God, something about the size difference never got tiring to him... "Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did, you hoodlum. Missed ya every moment that you weren't here with me..." They replied as they stood on their tiptoes and captured his lips in a kiss that quickly grew heated.

Dally pushed them against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his tongue exploring their mouth. The taste of their clove flavored gum that coated their tongue tasted better than the nicotine that coated his. "Fuck doll... You're still chewin' that clove gum?" He joked once he pulled back from the kiss to catch his breath.

"Always." They said softly, panting just like he was. Dally leaned forward and started trailing opened mouth kissing their neck, leaving a train of saliva in his wake.

"Mind giving me a hand here, would ya?" He whispered against their neck, gently grabbing and guiding their hand to his bulge. They quickly took to it and pulled him out of his pants.

He looked down and watched their small hand, the finger tips just barely meeting, start to move up and down. A soft sigh escaped his throat as he enjoyed the feeling of their soft hand moving. "Feels better than my own hand, baby doll..." he whispered as he bit down gently on their pulse point.

A soft moan escaped their lips at the feeling of his teeth biting down on their pulse point. "Damn Dal..." They whispered as they rubbed the tip of his dick, precum sticking to their thumb.

"Come on doll... Have some fun, yeah?" He panted softly as he grinded against their hand. "I just got out of the cooler and I've been aching for some time with you..."

Dally scooped them up and kissed them again, the feeling of their smaller frame in his arms just made him feel just a little bit more desperate. When he laid them on the bed, he looked at them for permission before pulling down their pants. "Fuck baby doll, all for me?" He asked, not expecting an answer as he started prepping their hole. His fingers gently found their hole, spitting on his hand before starting to prep them. "Dal... Stop, please... Need you, need you inside..." Dallas, ever the smug bastard, smiled before pulling his fingers out, replacing them with his dick. "Think you can take it, baby doll? Y'think your small hole can take it all?" He asked as he started slowly thrusting into them, the moans sounding like music to his ears.

"Hot damn... So... Deliciously delicate..." He murmured, locking his lips with them as he kept thrusting. "All for me... All. for. me..."

"Dally... Dally please..." They panted as they squirmed under him, already close to cumming. "Then do it, baby doll. Ain't nobody stoppin' ya..." He hummed as he enjoyed the feeling of them tightening around him.

"Mph... Fuckk..." Dally groaned, feeling them milking him for everything he's got. He didn't last much longer, pulling out and cumming on their stomach. "Damn... I needed that." He smiled as he got up and went to the bathroom to get something to clean up his mess.

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay i just marathoned the entirety of ATLA live action & i might do an actual review of it explaining my thoughts more in depth, but the TLDR version basically boils down to this:

if you want to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, just go watch the 2005 cartoon

[breeberrypies]

when your best friend on the planet ever scratches the surface of your autistic brain and picks out christmas gifts for you that feeds into your nerdy interests and favorite things.

@tallarurus 🫶

[milkstoner]

I don't have an insta 😔

I do have to respect that honestly.

[thinkinpoink]

Me? Having a meltdown due to stupid changes in the work scheduling process?

More likely than you think!

[hauntingblue]

Why do they say dragon is luffy's father but doesn't look much like him... I mean it is true but why point it out... in that way he doesn't look like garp either

[victory-cookies]

the only irl friend I have that I feel comfortable actually talking about the things I enjoy with just insulted me for gushing about smth to her over snap last night and now I want to cry

[yellowsubiesdance]

HEY GANG, HAVE I GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU

we’re in the midst of our second show, and in this show i stand at a podium with a notebook and i write things in the book so i have something to do there

AND I FUCKING OPENED THE BOOK TO THE PAGE I LEFT ON LAST NIGHT, AND YOU’LL NEVER FUCKING BELIEVE IT

MY STAGE MANAGER WROTE “You’re beautiful!” AND SIGNED HIS NAME AND HE DREW A HEART NEXT TO IT

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ BETTER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what happens when your boyfriend cheats on you and you look towards your best friend for help

INFO...jjk men (toji, gojo, geto, nanami) x fem!reader, reader gets cheated on, riding, sending a video to your ex, oral (f!receiving), car sex, kinda cute/some fluff in the beginning, pet names (doll, princess, baby, sweetheart), creampie, possessiveness, choking, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

ᯓ★ TOJI

When you showed up on Toji’s doorstep in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face he was more than ready to kill whoever made your cry. He wasn’t surprised when you told him your shitty boyfriend had cheated on you and not with just one girl but multiple. Toji never liked your boyfriend, he could tell that guy was up no to good from the start, reading him like a book. He’d be sure to beat the shit out of him once he helped you gain composure.

“I’m sorry for showing up so late,” you hiccuped as he wiped your tears.

“Don’t worry about it, doll. You know I’m always here for you.” He gave you a soft smile. Toji hated to see you this way, you were too pretty to be crying over some guy who looked like he crawled from the sewers. “That guy was a piece of shit. You deserve better.”

“But, every guy I’ve been with or tried to be with has done me so wrong!” It only made more tears spill from your eyes. Toji engulfed you in a hug, rubbing your back. “Toji?” You sniffled.

“Yeah?” He pulled away from you, wiping your tears again.

“Kiss me. Right now,” you demanded. You had to see for yourself if what you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks was absolutely true. Toji had zero clue, but you’ve been thinking about him way too much, more than a best friend should, feeling more than a best friend should. And when he planted his lips on yours, cupping your face, kissing you like a starved man, you didn’t quite expect your tears of sadness to be turned into tears of pleasure.

“Nnngh, Toji!” You moaned, his fat tip rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust of his hips. Your arms clung around his neck, fingers resting in his black silky hair.

“Can’t—mmm, fuck—believe he’d cheat on you! His fucking loss!” He growled in your ear, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hugging you close to him. Your pussy clenched down around him, milking him for his every worth, juices dripping down his length and onto his balls. “So tight, doll—oh shit!” He grunted. Lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room, echoing off the walls around you. “Been wanting you forever, craving you.”

Your brows furrow in pleasure, barely able to contain your moans as you and Toji stare into each others eyes. “M-me too!” You whimper, nodding your head at him. You lips messily interlock, tongue gliding against one another, swallowing each others moans.

“Let’s show him what he’s missing, baby.” He smirks, reaching for your phone on the couch. His thrusts come to a stop, clicking on your now ex boyfriend’s contact and opening the camera to record a video. “Go nice and slow for me,” he says huskily.

Slowly, you move your hips up and down his thick shaft, whimpering when you feel him throb against your walls. Toji angles the camera up, a devious look in his eye. He moves it back down when you start to move faster, you sloppy pussy squelching when you slam your hips down on his. Toji slaps your ass a few times before grabbing it, guiding your hips to go slower once again. “That’s it, doll. Good fucking girl,” he lowly chuckles in your ear. Toji ends the video, sending it and tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” you giggle, biting down on your lip. Not even one minute passed before your phone began ringing, vibrating on the couch but you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to even notice. “Ah, you’re so deep,” you mewl, the curve of his dick making your back arch.

“Better get used to it cause we won’t be stopping anytime soon.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, sloppily thrusting into your poor pussy. “You’re my girl now.” He’s slamming your hips back down on his cock, fucking you deeply, making sure every inch of him is coated in your juices. He quickly pulls out, jerking his cock before thick globs of cum coat your skin before he’s inserting himself back inside your dripping entrance. Neither of you noticing the five missed calls and fifteen unread texts from your ex.

ᯓ★ GOJO

As soon as you called Gojo crying, he basically teleported to your house. When he learned that your boyfriend had cheated on you and you kicked him out, he was the least bit shocked. For the past month you’ve told Gojo that your boyfriend has been acting off, and finally the truth came to light.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned, rubbing the top of your head as you cried into his chest. It hurt Gojo to see you like this, constantly seeing you get hurt by these shitty guys who didn’t know any better. He had a massive crush on for the longest time and he’s always been afraid to say anything. He’d treat you better, treat you the way you’ve always deserved.

“I just don’t it, Toru! Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You frowned.

“No, no! It’s not you all! You’re absolutely perfect. He’s a fucking asshole for not seeing that sooner. You’re kind, funny, smart, and beautiful. You’re everyone’s dream girl, y/n.” It may have sounded like he was only trying to be nice, but in reality he was speaking from his heart.

“Awe, Toru, thank you,” you giggled through your tears. Gojo looked at you few seconds, the most sincere expression written on his face.

So how, in only a few minutes, did he make you go from giggling to moaning like bitch in heat?

“Feel better, princess?” He mumbles against your cunt, sucking on your swollen and sensitive clit. “Please tell me you feel better,” he whines.

“Toru—mmph! What’s—ah! Oh my god!” He slides his long, slender fingers into your sopping hole, pumping them in and out, curling them up slightly. Your jaw falls slack at the way his tongue expertly explores your folds, licking up every last drop of your essence. Your hand clings to his fluffy white hair, his hands pushing your legs open each time they threat to close around his head.

“Taste so good, princess. Just like I imagined—mmm,” he moans at your delectable taste, ignoring the way your squirming in his hold and clenching around his fingers as your second orgasm approaches. His captivating eyes flutter open to look at you, watching the way you lose yourself on his tongue. He could tell your boyfriend—ex boyfriend has never pleasured you like this before, let alone made you cum.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Feels so good—hah, shit! Toruuu!” You cry out, legs quivering when the tip of his tongue runs back and forth over your clit.

“Promise me something, yeah?” He moves his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole slowly, bringing you right on the edge. “Be mine? I’ll treat you so good, princess. Been wanting to for the longest time, god, you’re so fucking perfect. Please?” He presses soft kisses to your thighs that make your breath hitch.

“You’re confessing now?!” You chuckle, trying to catch your breath.

Gojo smiles up at you. “Is that a yes?” He quirks a brow. He presses the pads of his fingers against your g-spot massaging slowly.

“Ah,” you bite down on your lip, “you’re no fair!” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s a yessssuhh.” You’re barely able to get the word out before he dips his head between your legs again, his wet tongue circling your clit. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming again!” Your head is thrown back as your entire body shakes with pleasure.

“Thank you, princess,” Gojo murmurs.

ᯓ★ NANAMI

Nanami noticed you haven’t been yourself for the past couple of days and he didn’t dare to ask but he had a feeling it had something to do with that obnoxious and egotistical boyfriend of yours. It always had something to do with him no matter what. He didn’t think of it when you asked him if you can come over and watch a movie, but not even five minutes in the door you start explaining everything. You didn’t cry, just talked and talked about it, venting about the situation. He was glad to be an ear. He’ll always be here to help.

“I’m just so frustrated and I hate feeling this way!” You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you need to deal with it in other ways rather than venting,” he suggested.

“Like what? Drinking my problems away? I’d rather not.” You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal.

What didn’t cross your mind was the fact your best friend was talking about having you bent over, fucking you into the mattress. “K-Ken! F-fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut when he thrusts his hips harder, the tip of his swollen cock pressing into your sweet spot.

His thick fingers squeeze into your plush skin, pulling you back onto his cock. He leans over next to your ear, breath fanning against your skin sweaty skin. “He doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Not like I do.” He peppers kisses down your back, a contrast of you screaming his name.

Your walls squeeze around him at his words, your pussy somehow growing wetter than it already was, creating a sloppy and sticky mess where you two met. Your hands grasped the sheets below. “Yes, Ken, handle me, show me you can handle me!” You grit your teeth, looking back at him.

A feral growl escapes his throat, blonde hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. He reaches a hand down, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushes your head into the mattress, the sound of skin to skin slapping against each other growing constant as he fucks your hard and deep with such a grueling pace. “I can handle you, sweetheart,” he chuckles deeply. “Better than your boyfriend.” He licks his lips.

“Mmm—ah, yes!” You laugh with a smile. “Ex.” You’re quick to correct.

“Who gives a fuck what he is—hah, shit, sweetheart, gripping me so damn tight.” He’s so focused on the way your ass ripples against his hips, addicted to how warm and wet your cunt is. It was hypnotizing. Your jaw hung open, eyes rolled back, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and onto the bed below you. Each rut of his hips had you going stupid, barely able to think.

Successfully, you can say that his method of dealing with your problems has worked better than you could’ve imagined. “Feel so good inside me! Don’t stop!” You cry out, voice wavering. The stretch of his cock against your gummy walls had you craving more. So much more to the point you wanted to feel all of him. “Cum in me.” You’re bitting down your lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood.

Those three words have Nanami’s eyes wide in excitement. His body runs hot, your words making the blood rush straight to his pulsating cock. “D-don’t say stuff—mmph—like that,” he grunts.

“I thought you could handle me?” You’re smirking, playing with fire. His rough hands grip onto your hips harder, hard enough to leave bruises. Each thrust of his ragged hips shoots bolts of pleasure through your core.

His brows furrow in concentration, grunts and growls mixing in with your moans as his abs tense up, body jolting forward as his sloppily thrusts into your greedy hole. “I can handle you better than anyone else and you know it!” His hand swats your ass, a loud smack cracking in the air. “Nngh, shit!” Before he knows it, his tip kisses your cervix, pulling you back on his cock as his hot cum paints your walls.

ᯓ★ GETO

When you told Geto about your boyfriend cheating on you, he knew you’d needed to be comforted despite what you said. So he planned a day just for you to do your favorite things in attempts to take your mind off of things, but he could see that you were still thinking about it deep down. The both of you sat in the car, watching over the city lights while music quietly played on the radio. The orange sunset casted a hue over the world, shining brightly.

“I’m sorry I just can’t get it out of my head.” You pout, fiddling with your fingers. “I appreciate you doing this, Suguru.”

“Of course, y/n. It’s the least I could do.” He gave a half smile, caressing your back.

“It just keeps replaying over and over in my head,” you shut your eyes, “I hate it. Nothing takes my mind off of it no matter what!” You ran your hand over your face, slouching in the passenger seat.

“Well, there’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Geto raised a brow, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” You asked, confused.

Minutes later your knees are to your chest, the sheer force of his hips rocking your body into the seat of the car. Strands from his messy bun cling to his forehead, sweat dripping between the divots of his abs. His calloused hand presses down on your lower abdomen, the pad of his thumb reaching down to rub your neglected clit. “Sugu!” You cry out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

The car shakes with his feral and animalistic thrusts, the curve of his cock finding your sweet spot, knocking the breath out of you. You’re panting and gasping, clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, his hand reaching out, slipping his fingers into your mouth to suck on. “Let it all go for me.” He moves at a rapid pace, your eyes rolling back and your body going limp, hands falling to your sides.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, his hands gliding down to your throat, fingers ghosting over your skin before he carefully wraps his hand around it, gripping it firmly. “I’ll make you forget everything about him. You want that, don’t you? Fill that pretty little head of yours with nothing else but me.” His sultry words send shivers down your spine. A devilish chuckle escapes from him when he feels you flutter around his throbbing length. “Nnngh,” he plants a wet kiss on your jaw, “cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m cumming!” You scream, eyes widening at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Yes, yes!” You squeal, legs shaking as he continues to rub your clit, dragging every last bit of your orgasm out of you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass at a rough pace, threatening to spill his seed inside of you. “Want to mark you, show that asshole who you’ve always belonged to!” Sinful eyes stare back at you.

Fat tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m yours! I’m y-yours! Ahh!” He puts more pressure on your clit, your body jolting, squirming beneath him.

“Hah, fuck, baby!” He moans, jaw falling open as he tosses his head back. He clenches his jaw, grunting as he keeps the same fervent tempo. He watches the way your filthy pussy clings to him so tightly, your juices forming a ring at the base of his cock, creating a sticky, slimy mess. His thrusts grow hasty, hungry for his orgasm, itching to see you coated in his cum.

He bullies his cock into your cunt, snarling and moaning at how rapidly his orgasm was nearing. He pulled out of you with a drawn out moan and instinctively your soft hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until you felt warm cum drip onto your stomach.

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[chiscaralight]

what's that sound?

includes: nsfw! continuation of my college athelete!choso linked here. vouyerism, oral sex(f receiving), somewhat bottom choso, p in v, unprotected sex, choso is a little pervy, he’s never eaten pussy before either, choso cums from hearing i love u then he gets a little emotional. he’s just a loser!!!!!

word count: roughly 3k

a/n: we r so back!!!!

choso has been at his best since he met you.

ever since you two got together, he's been much different. not just to you—to everyone! there’s a pep in his step when he walks, he’s a little more confident when he talks, and he’s even playing better on the field now! (totally not because he knows you’re in the bleachers and he’s trying to look extra cool just for you.)

and it pains him in more ways than one when he has to stay away from you for so long. with the new league about to hit its peak, coaches are adding in extra hours, school work is getting more and more tasking by the day, and only talking to you on the phone for a couple of minutes and texting the whole day is nowhere near enough for him. even though he’s the one that needs most of the space!

you’re so sweet about it too, assuring him you’d be fine and he has to prioritize his sports career. you still show up to the occasional practice to offer a quick kiss before you go home, and you leave him snacks in his book bag when you see it lying around. you’re honestly such a blessing, why is the world so against the two of you right now?

but a single ray of light shines down on Choso’s dim day when the head coach sends a text that they can have the day off since they played so well in the last game. he’s almost flying out of his class seat right then and there—his mind is going straight towards you.

he feels like shit as he makes his way out of the flower shop; bouquet in hand. it’s not much, but he hopes you find it sweet enough that you’ll forgive him for how long it’s been since he last saw you. he stood there, individually picking out the best blue hyacinths and white orchids from the bunch, all fresh and neatly wrapped as a sort of poetic apology. you might not even know what it means, but who cares? it’s the thought that counts.

and he feels even weirder driving to your doorstep after all the times he’s run there instead. he’s still nervous even after all the times you’ve held him, kissed him, fucked him. you’re just so perfect, who wouldn’t be near pissing themselves right now with you behind the door?

he’s carefully sliding the single key you gave him in, pushing inwards after he hears the soft click. fingers tightening around the paper holding the flowers together, he steps in. empty.

what the hell? you should be home right now. it’s Friday—your classes end early and your favorite podcast should be up by now. but you’re not here.

choso’s brows furrow. He peered into the kitchen and checked the downstairs bathroom, the backyard, and even under the stairwell. nothing.

agitation crawls up his neck as hears a muffled noise from upstairs. it's faint; almost impossible to hear, but he’s sure it’s you.

the staircase is barely creaking as he makes his way up insanely slow. his grip on the flowers are tight, almost inhumane as he’s prepared to use them as a weapon. his steps are quick once he reaches the top, deathly silent but still quick as he closes in on the cracked open door of your room. the noises are getting slightly louder, more frantic and they sound less like pain and more like moans. moans..?

choso’s heart cracks once and he stops dead in his tracks. there’s no way. he knows he’s been gone for a long time, but it hasn't been that long, right? fuck—you said you loved him, you said it so many times, you wouldn’t cheat on him so quick. you wouldn’t cheat on him at all. so why are you–

“f-fuck cho.. miss you s-so much..”

oh.

oh.

oh.

the blood flow in Choso’s legs finally picks up once again, and he’s noiselessly pushing himself against the wall right next to your doorpost. he’s craning his head so far to the side, but he can finally see it. he can finally see you. and holy shit, he might have just cum in his pants.

your legs are spread, bed facing the door as your fingers disappear into your cunt. your shirt–his shirt is pulled up right under your chin, leaving your cute tits out in the open as you harshly tug on one of your own nipples.

the view is stupidly mesmerizing, and choso catches himself just before he starts drooling at the sight of you. he’s not even paying attention to how hard he is, he’s completely entranced by every little action. the way your body is twitching, how your fingers are moving, how your eyes are pressed tightly shut as you cry out his name.

choso is genuinely about to lose it. he just wants to crawl over there and eat you whole, in more ways than one. but he’s practically glued to the spot; he’s even holding his breath just to not ruin the moment!

but he’s getting knocked out of his incomprehensible trance when you let out a particularly irritated groan.

it’s so annoying. you haven’t been able to cum once since your boyfriend has been scarce. it’s not like you tried anyway, you’d much rather have him pump your orgasms out of you like he seemed to love doing. but it’s been so long, and you’ve been so sexually frustrated that you had to turn back to playing with yourself like this.

it’s not that you couldn’t call him, you’re almost a hundred percent sure he’d run all the way to you if he was on the other side of the country. but you didn’t want to bother him too much. his schedule has been overflowing with activities and he’s probably so busy, you didn’t want to seem inconsiderate! so you’d settled on seeing him when you knew he was free.

but this is getting way too bad, and you’re sure you’d start losing sight in your left ear if you don’t get it out right now.

so against your better judgment, you’re using your free hand to reach over to your phone, banking on the fact that his voice will be enough to get you off. he doesn’t have to know, right? And plus, you can always tell him later when you feel less guilty.

it doesn’t take long for you to find his name surrounded by hearts in your contact list and you’re calling without a second thought. it takes a couple of seconds before the line actually starts to ring.

the loud noise from Choso’s back pocket startles him so much that he drops the flowers he’s forgotten he’s holding. he’s silently cursing himself amidst the noise of his phone singing out, and now he’s lost on what to do.

you speak first though, voice breathy and low as you call out his name. he bites down on his lower lip, slowly stepping into the entrance of your room. you bite back a laugh despite the obscenity of the whole thing. he looks like a kid who got caught with their chubby hand down the cookie jar, he’s just way too cute!

“were you watching me, cho?”

almost immediately he’s a stuttering mess of excuses and apologies. he swears he didn’t mean to, he just wanted to surprise you—he just got a little carried away!

and you can’t hide your smile as you shut him up, gesturing for him to come closer. you’re sitting up now, more covered than before as your shirt rolls down.

you pat the space beside you, signaling for him to come over. it feels like ages, almost eons when your bed finally dips from his weight, but he’s still so far away. it’s definitely an improvement from the first time he came over, but you need him much closer than he is.

you can see his body tense up as you shift closer. he’s still avoiding your eyes, finding the floor much more interesting than the face of yours he always says he can’t get enough of. your fingers are giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze as he apologizes once again. you’re not upset. nowhere near even—this might have been the best possible outcome. but if he’s all mopey like this, neither of you will get anywhere.

“y’know, i don’t mind you watching me.”

you can feel him physically cringe at your words, but you’re not done just yet.

“so, you can keep watching me, or…”

his eyes finally meet yours after what feels like an eternity, waiting for you to go on. there you go.

“or?”

“…you can help me.”

quite literally, you can see the gears turning in that silly little brain of his. but he’s choosing to forgo an actual response, pressing his lips against yours instead. you can’t help the moan you let flow out of you, and he’s grunting in response, arms closing around you hard so he can push you onto your back once more.

choso’s kisses are heavy and full of need, tongue dancing around yours as his fingers graze the exposed skin of your thighs. you feel so good under his rough palms, he can’t help but try to soften his touch. he doesn’t want to hurt you! after all, you’re his most prized possession. he has to take care of you in every way he can.

and you’re half expecting his fingers to replace yours as they were a couple of minutes ago, but he’s pulling back with a sharp huff. you’re lazily opening your eyes, gaze connecting with his again as you start to notice the tips of his ears are a burning red.

“can i... i want to taste you. please.

even with his eyes still trained on yours, his entire face is flushed. even after all these months, he’s still as nervous as ever.

you offer him a welcoming smile and nod. he’s clearing his throat as he moves away, making quick work of getting his shirt off before settling between your legs.

and he’s a little overwhelmed coming face to face with your pussy like this. he knows you’re watching him, and he’s watching your essence drip out and down your cunt as he thinks. he’s racking his brain, trying to think of the best way to approach this. but your hand guiding the back of his head closer towards your aching heat is all the encouragement he needs.

once his tongue comes in contact with your slick, his eyes fall shut. you gasp at the experimental licks he’s giving you, warmth of his tongue sending jolts all the way down into your toes as he groans at how sweet you taste.

he’s catching on with lightning speed, lightly dipping his tongue into your entrance between every couple of strokes from his tongue. his nose is bumping your clit just right, and you’re tugging at his hair quite harshly as he continues to suck at your hole.

it’s his tongue going deep into your cunt that has you arching off the bed, nails digging into his scalp as your thighs close around his ears. his strong hands are only wrapped around your thighs, locking you tight in place as he ravages his new favorite meal.

and the tip of his tongue is starting to invade your sensitive spots as he fucks it in and out of you, wiggling it around when he’s sure it’s as deep as he can go so you���re arching high off the bed. you’re desperately trying to push him away—you’re not sure you can handle all this! but choso is too far gone; he’ll apologize later. right now, he’s going to get a fill of this flavor he’s been missing out on for weeks.

but even with your pleas and cries, choso doesn’t stop. you’d think he’d gone deaf from how hard your thighs were pressing on his ears. truth is he can hear you loud and clear. he just wants to make sure he gets every single drop of your release down his throat.

he’s only had a sneaky taste of it after he helps you finish on his fingers. when you’re finally off the high and sleeping wrapped in his arms like a baby, he’ll bring his digit to his lips, childishly licking at them to get whatever remnants are on his fingers onto his tongue. but it won’t be long before pangs of guilt and shame cover him, and his hand will settle right by your side.

but now? there’s no way he’s about to give this up. he can feel it. the way you’re tightening around his tongue, how your moans are starting to crack just like they always do.

and he’s right because your thick release is hitting his throat in no time, flooding his mouth as he slurps up every last drop.

when he finally lets you free from his vice grip, you’re both panting and sweaty. his chin is entertained covered in your release. you can barely keep your eyes open, but you can hear how choso is fighting to get rid of his pants next.

it’s not long before Choso’s lips collide with yours in a much softer kiss. he’s been slightly… satiated. but his boner is getting more painful by the second, and he misses the way you envelop him so dearly.

he doesn’t break the kiss as he hooks his elbows under your knees. he’s pushing up, not stopping u til your calves are rested perfectly against his shoulders. he didn’t know you could bend like that. you didn’t know you couldn’t bend like that. but both of your trains of thought are broken when he finally pushes into you. a short string of curses falls from his lips when you clamp down around him just like you always do.

and regardless of how impatient he’s been all this time, choso never fails to fuck you properly. his thrusts are calculated and deep, each one making your entire body twitch under him.

you never fail to give him the praise he deserves either, telling him he’s doing so well they turn his harsh grunts into weak whines.

but he loses all composure when you call him ‘my good boy’. you can swear you hear him sob, but the noise gets drowned out fast by the sound of skin slapping as he picks up the speed of his hips

your eyes are crossing, fingers dipping into his shoulders when his pelvis starts to brush your overstimulated clit. he’s hitting everything so right, deep whispers of your name breezing through your head as he pounds into you.

you’re practically an inch away from getting fucked into a concussion but it’s the least of your worries right now. you’ve missed this—you’ve missed him. it’s the moments where he’s so raw with you, no masks of shame or fear covering how he truly feels that you love the most. this is the cost that you love.

but you’re still a human being, and one with limits. your orgasm is bubbling hard in the pits of your belly, so you’re tightening your own hold on him, mumbling about how you’re getting close. and you barely last another five seconds before a stupidly broken ‘i love you’ falls from your swollen lips.

those three words are sending choso over the edge so fast he can’t help the strangled noise that comes from his throat. those words are pumping energy throughout every vein of his body, and even through his orgasm, he doesn’t stop his movements. his face is digging into your neck as he rides out the rest of his high, tears dripping onto the skin of your collarbone.

you’re so confused when you recover, that you don’t know what to say! all you can do is shush him, dragging your fingers calmly through his messy strands as you try to calm him down. even through his fit, he’s still apologizing and it breaks your heart over and over. all you can do is press a sweet kiss against the side of his face and tell him how cute he looks with his face all wet like this. then he remembers.

he’s returning to your sides within seconds, setting the bouquet carefully in your arms before explaining what it’s supposed to be. they’ve already been out for quite some time though, so you’ll need to take them downstairs to place in a jar before they start to wilt too badly. but you’re in no state to walk like this.

so choso is scooping you up bridal style despite your protests and carrying you down the steps. he only puts you down to place you in front of the kitchen sink as he moves around to find a suitable container. it’s adorable you think, how proactive he is about this. but he’s done pretty quickly, and all you have to do is lean over the basin and push the jar onto the sill.

which you do with a gasp because he’s pressing onto your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. but that’s not what catches you off guard, it’s how hard he is. and with the way his hand is trailing down between your thighs, you know you don’t have long before you’ll be getting filled up again.

if you think you’ve missed him, you have no idea how much he’s missed you. and even with that, he’s so considerate! he knows how tired your legs must be, so he’s keeping you up with his vice-like grip as he fucks into you from behind right in front of the kitchen window. your brain's been turned to mush a long time ago, you don’t even care if your neighbors see you like this. all that’s on your mind is how bruised you’re going to be when choso finally lets up, and how much cum he can pump into you until he has to go for his next practice.