#WHAT'S WRONG WITH HAVING FUN AND LOVING OTHERS

[misayani]

MINISKIRT — SQUID GAME WOMEN + THANOS AND YOU WEARING A MINISKIRT HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), hyun-ju (player 120), young-mi (player 195), kang sae-byeok (s1 player 067), + thanos (player 230)

𔗨 author's note — hope u guys missed me cs i havent posted any works for the past 24 hours [lowercase intended]

warnings: nsfw on some parts

mi na — 

- FEMXFEM.

- the two of you going on a cute date while wearing miniskirts because hello??? 

- u shop together for clothes and everytime you guys do she gets you a miniskirt

- you now have like 30 of them in ur closet

- compliments you non stop because ??? her gf's so pretty it makes her wanna cry

- will tease you all day if you decide to wear that out

- lingering touches on your thighs here and there

- has a smug smirk on her face while doing it

- she rides it up more, claiming "it looks better like that"

- has a pepper spray in her bag in case the both of you stays out until night 

- will STARE and GLARE at anybody who's looking at your legs

- like how dare they that's only for hers to look at ??

- the both of you are so feminine, guys mistake the both of you as just friends

- she'll simply roll her eyes and give them a disgusted look

- "what? haven't seen a pretty girl date another pretty girl? idiots."

- planning outfits with her !!!! ><

- the both of you laying down on your stomach, legs tangled with each other behind, and scrolling on your laptop to buy more clothes (and miniskirts)

- overall a power couple, we love feminine pussy eater girls <3

"cmon, lift it a little more up. what's the point of a miniskirt if you're gonna pull it down?" your butt cheeks are literally already hanging out.

no eul —

- oh boy

- she's so protective

- if you're out together, she'll subtly walk closer to you to shield you from unwanted attention

- wears a jacket for you whenever you decide to wear a miniskirt

- HEKSKSKSK YOU LOVE TEASING HER SM

- guiding her hand to your thighs

- she'll stiffen and yank her hand away and you pout :(

- she shoots you a glare, her eyes giving you a warning

- "wait until we get home."

- you sigh and decide to tease her more by riding your skirt up until your safety shorts r literally visible

- SHE'LL CLENCH HER JAW AT YOUR STUBBORNNESS AND IT'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING HOT????

- you'll just act innocent and bat your eyelashes at her

- "what? i didn't do anything wrong:("

- whenever you get the chance, you'll grind your ass against her

- she will.audibly.hiss.ohmyfuckinggosh

- you're so dead when the two of you finally get home !!!

- she's USUALLY a soft dom but don't expect her to go easy on you after you literally just teased her the whole day

- the miniskirt stays on while she fucks your brains out

- ends up with you drooling and moaning nothing but her name the whole night

- well... that's what you get when you don't listen!

- you obviously liked it though, so ever since that you started to wear miniskirts more often;)

"stop crying. you asked for this, didn't you?"

se mi —

- SHE INSISTS YOU WEAR THEM.

- will walk around the mall with her arm wrapped around your waist FOR EVERYONE TO SEE YOU'RE HERS

- shamelessly stares at your thighs and smirks if she sees you blushing

- "come here closer, baby"

- unlike with no-eul's, se-mi will be the one grinding on your ass

- literally fantasizes about bending you over and lifting your skirt up 

- OHMYGO

- if you're acting bratty, she'll bend you over her lap and spank you until your ass is red

- sometimes she makes you go commando 

- se-mi loves being risky

- she will sneakily brush her hand up your thighs

- but if you're not in the mood for anything and just really want to wear a cute miniskirt, she'll respect that

- because no is no <3

- although, if you like it like that

- she'll definitely have some fun with you

- secretly gets turned on whenever you wear miniskirts but doesn't admit it because she has to keep that 'cool' exterior of hers /eyeroll

- overall just loves your thighs so much. to the moon and back.

"can we go home now? i wanna rip that skirt off you"

jun hee —

- out of all four ABOVE (^), she's the most respectful

- "you look so pretty wearing that"

- if the miniskirt is too mini though, she'll get flustered

- she's the one who's gonna pull it down for you

- "baby, it's short like that on purpose!" "i don't care, it's too short!"

- acts like a mother to you

- she may complain sometimes but when you ask her to pick out your clothes

- she'll definitely go for the miniskirt with no hesitation

- she secretly likes it. she just isn't fond of the idea of other people seeing your legs

- her eyes will involuntarily flicker to your legs often as much as she hates to admit it

- "are you staring?"

- "what? no! i mean, maybe a little but—!"

- you just laugh at her while she rolls her eyes playfully at you

- but with that aside, she does really think you're breathtaking whenever you wear miniskirts. i mean she thinks you're breathtaking in general but something about you wearing miniskirts just gets her on

"you're starting to convince me to let you wear that more often." "glad to know."

hyun ju —

before her surgery: 

- you tried to tell her once that it's more than fine for her to wear a miniskirt

- she politely declines, telling you that she doesn't really feel confident yet

- you respect her decision, "okay, i'll be right here whenever you're ready!"

- instead, she admires you. her stares linger a little longer than usual

- though a little part of her wishes she could be as confident as you 

- not in an envy way though!!! NEVER.

- you inspire hyun-ju so much, and she's glad to have you. someone that helps her and understands her

- anyways, she's calm most of the time, you'll hear some compliments here and there

- "you look amazing."

- this literally makes your heart melt so much, the way she's staring at you out of love :((( <3

- her protective side though ?????

- "did that person tell you anything??" "no, they just said i look pretty!:)"

- her jaw clenches, but she does nothing about it.

- after all, what they said was right. it was undeniable, you really do look pretty

- you give her a little twirl sometimes, showing off your pretty outfit

- "you're showing off, aren't you?"

- your lips curve into a smile, "mhm! and you will too, one day."

- she smiles at the thought but doesn't say anything further

after her surgery:

- YAAAAAY !!!!!!!!

- 10000 MORE TIMES CONFIDENT 

- hesitates at first though, but that's totally fine!!!

- "are you sure i can pull this off..?" "BABY YOU WOULD LOOK THE HOTTEST."

- you decided to get her comfortable with skirts first

- "hmm... what do you say to wearing a skirt but just inside the house?" 

- "...okay." 

- you help her relax and get comfy with it. you're literally her safe space:(

- and then you hype her up so much to the point she gets convinced

- are you ready....

- TA-DA!! she finally wears a skirt outside the house !!

- not as short as yours though, she isn't ready for that yet. BUT !!! baby steps <33

- "we can just go for a quick walk, if you're fine with that."

- if anybody stares, you glare at them and turn to hyun-ju with a warm smile

- "don't mind them, they don't matter. you're doing so well"

- after a while, she grows more and more comfortable wearing a skirt

- then the both of you finally go on dates while wearing matching skirts !! yay 

"i realized people care way less than we think they do."

young mi —

- ADORES YOU SO SO MUCH

- she gets flustered easily, and you take advantage of that

- "sweetheart, do you think this length is good? or should i go for a shorter one?"

- will stutter and nervously fiddle with her fingers

- "i think— i think it's already too short.."

- "too short? come closer so you can see it better."

- you're an absolute tease 

- KEEPS HER HANDS TO HERSELF WHEN THE BOTH OF YOU ARE SITTING TOGETHER

- literally just stares forward, trying her hardest to not look at your bare legs

- you sulk though when you wear a miniskirt specifically for her but she won't even bat an eye on you:(

- "do you not like it? i can change.."

- she snaps her head towards you, "no no no! i just cant handle all that.." LMFAO

- "well you better learn how to, i'm not gonna give up until you look at me."

- spoiler alert!!!! you make her ride your thigh ♡

"unnie.." 

sae byeok —

- 'wear that idgaf i can fight' TYPE

- she literally has her pocket knife with her no matter where she goes

- she doesn't need it ngl, it's mostly for you

- I MEAN NOT TO USE ON YOU (unless you want her to;)

- you draw her attention on purpose: lifting your skirt up, brushing your thigh against her leg, bending down to pick something up

- you whine if you see her not reacting even once:(

- "if you want me to do something, then you'll have to be riskier."

- you'd literally do anything, even if that made you look so desperate

- you'd rub your thighs together and softly moan directly into sae-byeok's ear 

- ... still gets you nowhere

- HAND PLACEMENTTT

- makes your cunt throb sb when you feel her hot palm against your inner thigh

- her fingers might brush over your core if you're lucky

- but that's all she does, the rest happens at home

- aside from all that horny shit though, she really likes it when you wear miniskirts

- she can't quite place her finger on it as to why— miniskirts are just so you

- most of the time she doesn't even know what to say, mostly cause she can't think of a word to compliment you. simply saying that you're beautiful sounds such an understatement for her.

"sae, stop glaring at the man." "i'm gonna fucking gut him up if he doesn't rip his eyes away from you." shit left you speechless.

thanos —

- EASY ACCESS !!!!!!!!

- "holy shit baby, you look good. easier for me to—" "thanos!"

- he's SURPRISINGLY good at giving you outfit tips like ??? okay diva??

- "wear my leather jacket over that, it matches with the skirt."

- he wants to accompany you whenever you go shopping

- he's not one of those bitchy guys who complain about you taking so long at the store, he actually enjoys spending time with you shopping for your girly stuff

- just like se-mi, this man stares at your thighs shamelessly

- he's so sassy 

- "my legs look better." "baby, i love you, but shut the fuck up."

- curses in english whenever you come out of your room and he sees you wearing a miniskirt

- if he sees another man staring at HIS girlfriend, he'll call him out

- "isn't my girlfriend so stunning? you're lucky cause she's the last pretty thing you get to see before i fucking gouge your eyes out"

- he sulks when you scold him

- "might ban you from wearing a skirt outside from now on, just too many eyes."

- though he's jealous, deep down he's proud to call you as his

- like??? nobody else can't handle your fine ass but him

- he doesn't even need his drugs anymore; you're his drug

- he just can't have enough of you

"you're killing me with that outfit, you know that?"

@misayani

[bunnydoobles]

i have several but my main ones are Dames and Andy

march 5th!! >_<

3 years!! looking to top that :3

i really like The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

my nose and art abilities :(

Crispin Glover, Christopher Lloyd (both young and old, he's so silly), Rob Paulsen, Ewan McGegor, Brandon Rogers 

Sasha Calle, Lea Thompson, Kat Dennings, Winona Ryder, Laufey Lín Bing Jónsdóttir

i'm aiming for a career in theatre but my fallback is something in visual arts

having the courage and energy to post my art again!! and making new friends! 

hmm... i'm not sure actually? i'm not all that remarkable i don't have too many interesting facts haha! ^_^"

my highs; being able to sort through something really personal and hard for me with my beloved boyfriend, making time to hang out with my good friends, and being more confident about myself and my body and personality!! 

my lows; unfortunately being a little slow and airheaded and misunderstanding situations between me and my friends and my boyfriend, being horribly lonely and sick because i was stuck in the house bedrotting-, and that's about it!!

where my mother grew up in Japan! or visiting my family in the Philippines <33

MUSIC HAS SAVED MY LIFE!! (and occasionally forcing myself to draw something, at least a doodle or so) 

most likely Spotify + TikTok haha :3

Oh, god- Um- Uh- WAIT AM I GOING ALREADY? 

my eyes :D

drawing! and singing (i like to think) 

dancing- i can't dance to save my life, i'm wayyy too stiff (but i've been trying to take classes/get into it!!)

"I thought *you* drank the soda." (I, in fact, drank my mother's soda) 

um... did you know Wakko Warner from Animaniacs was inspired by Ringo Starr from The Beatles? :3

my lover, Mikey- and my best friend, Lili 

either my beloved record player or the necklace Mikey got me

5 or 6 years?? before i royally screwed it up-

making my first purchase without my parents allll by myself! >_<

i wanted to get into baseball but alas, i'm not cut out for it

pretty good! just got home from my gal pal's house hehe

both! i am perpetually tired 

hmm.. no, not necessarily! but i fell for my bf "love at first art piece"! 

you've got a 9 to 5, so i'll take the night shift / and i'll never see you again if i can help it

eating sweets and listening to my favorite music, drawing my ocs, and/or ranting about my useless interests 

Mitski, Jhariah, Billy Joel 

literally everything! i overthink a lot

when people call things "cringe" or bully others if they're having harmless fun instead of just... i dunno? walking/scrolling away?

again, literally everything! i'm very emotional- i cry at anything 

depends on the environment and my mood but most all the time i'm just a fuckin weirdo- the people i click with usually say i'm funny and pleasant to be around so! there's that! 

what flavor of toothpaste do you use? (did i do that right???)

sorry if i did that wrong, i wrote this all on my notes app LMAO! x3

Question Game

Are we tired of these yet?

What is your nickname?

When is your birthday?

What was your longest relationship?

What is your favorite book?

What is something you're insecure about?

5 Male celebrity crushes

5 Female celebrity crushes

What is your dream job?

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

How do you de-stress?

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

Describe yourself in one sentence.

What do you think makes you attractive?

What is something you're really good at?

What is something you're really bad at?

A time that you told a lie.

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

Who knows you the best?

What is your most prized possession?

What is your longest friendship?

When did you first feel like an adult?

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

How are you feeling right now?

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Favorite song lyrics right now?

What does self care look like for you?

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

What makes you nervous?

What’s a pet peeve you have?

What will always make you cry?

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

Free Pass! (Ask any question you want that's not on the list)

[salvieslovenotes]

Mirror Mirror

vi x reader, 18+ themes!!

Vi receives a nude from you for the first time and... freaks out a little

(a/n: i haven't written anything like this before, please be gentle!!)

Vi loves the way your relationship is going. She's never taken it this slow before; her relationships in the past have all been about diving head-first, but this, with you, it feels different. She really, really likes you. She doesn't want to mess it up. And taking it slow feels good, it feels like the right thing.

She suspects she's in a bit deeper than you, afraid that it means more to her than it does for you, and so slow... yeah, that's good. Give her a bit of space, allow her to reign in the rush of feelings and want that floods her whenever she's around you.

It's new for her, not to be sure of where it's going, what's happening—but she's taking a step back, taking the cues from you. Whenever you want to take it a step further, she's more than happy to go there.

But it's also tricky, not seeing you every day when she wants to. Not being sure if you're feeling the same way. Only going on one or two dates a week, holding herself back when kissing you, afraid you'll taste the longing she can't swallow down, pull away because you don't want that. You made it very clear, you two were casual. Your relationship was supposed to be fun, and yeah—casual.

So she never mentions it, even though yeah, she wants to know if you're thinking about her, too, when you don't see each other. She wants you to be thinking about her. She wants to get little dirty texts from you, she wants to send them back. She wants to get a text and be thinking about it all day. But she respects your boundaries, and so she says nothing.

Casual is... not really how Vi feels about you.

But it's alright, she knows you haven't been treated right in the past. Been with some people who haven't been respectful, who've made it so you don't give your trust easily. And so she understands why you're hesitant about starting something serious, and she really wants to show you that she's not like the others. She would never do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable.

It's a total slap in the face one morning when she's just messaged you hello like she always does and you respond... differently.

good morning love

sleep well?

She's busy pouring coffee when a moment later her phone buzzes with a new message.

Cupcake <3: Well... not so good.

Frowning, she types quickly.

oh??

Three dots appear on the screen and she waits impatiently, a little worried.

Cupcake <3: Yeah, couldn't sleep well.

Was kinda... distracted

Thinking about you

Vi stares at the last line, her heart suddenly beating hard in her chest, fast enough that her stomach clenches a little. Is this... are you doing what she thinks you're doing? For a moment she has a small panic; what if she's misinterpreted, because you two have never done anything like this before. Even your flirting is all tame, none of it overly suggestive, and what if she's got it totally wrong? What if you actually meant you were up because you were questioning the relationship. Is this you telling her you want to talk?

Now panicking in earnest, Vi glances down at her screen again where your three dots have reappeared. Wondering how to reply, she takes a sip of coffee—then promptly chokes.

Another message from you has just come through. This time, it's a photo.

A photo of you, specifically.

When Vi's finished coughing her lungs out, she grips her phone tight in both hands, staring, suddenly very certain that she was right the first time. It does not look like you're questioning the relationship.

The photo doesn't include your face, cutting off at your collarbones. Vi's gaze travels along their dip and curve, thinking of how she wants to run her tongue along that same line. You're clearly lying down in the image, rumpled sheets below your back. The lower half of the image cuts off again, just showing the elastic of your panties, and the fingers you're just slipping beneath the hem.

It's a matching set. Black lace, making the curve of your waist even sharper. Vi drinks in every pixel of the image, the way your fingers are teasing her, barely pulling the elastic of your panties as if it could snap back at any moment. She can imagine your satisfied little smile, the way your breaths would become more rapid and shallow as your hand slipped lower.

Vi lets out a shaky breath, a twinging ache of want low in her stomach. She doesn't need to move to know she's soaked her boyshorts. Pushing a hand that's trembling a little through her hair, she looks at the photo again, swallowing roughly. And shit—wait, the message is from almost ten minutes ago and she...

She has the sudden thought that you might be doing that right now, and fully just —spaces out. Gripping the counter until her knuckles are white, she closes her eyes, the picture of you blazing behind her eyelids. She thinks of the way your back would arch a little as you teased yourself, brushing a finger over your clit, bucking into your own hand. Biting your lip to stifle a moan, free hand clutching desparately at the sheets.

She still hasn't replied.

What does she even respond to something like that? Wow angel, thanks for wreaking me at eight in the morning.

Honestly, she's not really sure why this photo has... affected her so much. It's not the most explicit photo she's received from a girl, not by a long shot. Hell, some of her old hook-ups had sent full on videos and none of them had made her feel... quite like this. Shaky with the need to touch you, to have her mouth on your skin, your taste over her tongue. The desparate desire to make you hers, properly hers, someone that no one else would get to touch, to want, to have. You've barely been going out a month, and she wants it to be for always.

She's worried about leaving the message read and without a response—she doesn't want you to get the wrong impression, that it wasn't a good idea to send or worse, that she's unfazed by it.

But she just... doesn't know what to send back. In the past she's snapped responses without even thinking, quick photos of her touching herself, or maybe some at the gym, especially when she was with one girl who was particularly into her strength, but she doesn't know you well enough to know what you'd like, what would make you think of her in the way she's thinking of you—you're both still learning each other, the sex is still new. And she sort of wants...

She wants to make you feel like she does right now. She just doesn't know how.

For now she just sends a quick text, just the truth, before she can think twice about it—

fuck, angel

do you have any idea what you do to me?

—then locks her phone and religiously doesn't look at it for the rest of the day. Not that it makes a difference. Without ever opening your chat again, she's distracted. Thinking about you. Wanting you.

After work she can't take it anymore and calls Caitlyn, one of her closest friends and incidentally how you two met, as Caitlyn is also a close friend of yours.

Vi's not calling to ask for advice on nudes... but she's also not not calling to ask for advice on nudes. She and Caitlyn have been friends long enough that she's not even embarrassed about it.

"Fuck I just... I dunno what to do," she sighs. It's a little frightening, to want someone that badly, when she has no idea if you feel that strongly about her.

She's so highly strung her fingers have a tiny tremor in them even though she's only had one coffee today. Every time she thinks of that photo (which she's done approximately seven times a minute all day) her heartrate picks up, heat inching up her neck. She's pretty sure her cheeks have been flushed all day—though it's not particularly hot weather-wise.

She's wearing tight black jeans, her old pair full of rips she usually wears when tinkering on her bike, but it was a bad choice today because they're tight around her waist, and every time she bends or takes a seat the seam presses against her. Usually she doesn't notice, but now even that slight pressure is enough to have her biting back a whine as she thinks again about your long fingers curling under the lacy hem of your panties, the way you'd —

A soft laugh in her ear snaps her back to the present. Fuck, she needs to get it together.

"Okay, I'm gonna help you," says Caitlyn on the other end of the line, sounding vaguely amused. "But only because you're being a pathetic wet sock. Alright, you want her to want you?"

"Uh-huh," Vi mumbles, slumped over her counter top and staring moodily at the floor.

"Right, go into your bedroom."

"Okay..." Vi replies, pushing herself up off the counter and wandering through her small flat to her bedroom. "M'kay, I'm there."

"Open your wardrobe door," Caitlyn instructs, "the side with the long mirror. You still have that mirror, don't you?"

"Uh-huh," Vi says, pulling open the side of her wardrobe with the mirror attached. "Now what?"

"Now take off your shirt, and turn around. "

Having tossed her phone onto her bed, halfway out of her shirt Vi pauses, frowning. "Turn... around?"

There's an exasperated sigh from Caitlyn's end. "Yes, turn around. One-eighty. One-eight-zero. Turn around."

"So I'm... not facing the mirror?"

There's another sigh from Caitlyn. "Fuck, Vi, you useless lesbian. Yes, turn around so your back is to the mirror."

"My back?"

"Yep." There's a smirk in Caitlyn's voice when she adds, "Trust me, that's all you need to do to make her want you."

And well, Caitlyn's not wrong.

[takes1]

PLEASE I NEED MATSUKAWA OR KUNUMI OR EVEN MADDOG PLEASE IM BEGGING 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🙏

thankz ::3 -🩻

clingy!kentarou x reader (taming maddog)

heyyyy :) finally getting to this hope it's aight

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / riding maddog / 69 / obsessive!maddog / clingy!needy!maddog / possessive!maddog / loneliness theme / 'i can fix him' trope / libero!reader / johsai girls' team reader / maddog being canonically mean / implied virginity / experienced!reader / emotionally intelligent reader / emotionally stunted maddog / 3.6k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3

"(Y/n), like, I know you've got a type and all..."

"Mhmm," You follow absentmindedly, tracking your latest obsession like a hawk.

Number 16 was different- not just attractive, but he had a threatening, intense, sharp presence about him. He was just about the only member of the guys' team who didn't subscribe to a cheerful, cooperative environment. His little outburst earlier caught your attention, and he was currently benched for pushing Oikawa.

He sure was aggressive. You bit your lip and watched him stretch from the bleachers.

"But I heard he's actually crazy."

The other girls on your team would never understand what possessed you to put yourself in danger, going after the most deviant of guys you could find. It was an endearing joke amongst the team, at this point, but they did worry for your safety.

"What's his name?" You looked to them for the first time, mind already made up.

Whispers of Kentarou, Kyoutani, Maddog, were shared as you settled back to watching him. Lots of horror stories of him getting in trouble, getting into fights, yelling at teachers, other students, getting suspended for a time all encouraged you. The nickname he earned made you significantly more fascinated.

You could fix him. It would at least be fun to try.

You couldn't help but ponder where his true fault lied, how it twisted into so much unwarranted aggression.

Was he not held as a baby? Did he have a bad home life? Had it manifested into some kind of sexual dysfunction? You wondered if he was this big of a presence in the bedroom. You smiled at the strong possibility that he wasn't.

Maybe that was a bit Freudian of you to assume, but your previous diagnoses hadn't steered you wrong yet. The guys you slept with were all weirdos- losers- psychos- and yet, they were all a step closer to normal after a little love.

They couldn't stop you from approaching, especially when nobody had the guts to go anywhere near him.

"Hi," You tapped his shoulder after a bout of hesitation.

He looked to the side, then behind, and realized you were referring to him.

His brow fell from its subtle version of surprise, making all his features look heavier, meaner-- you shuddered.

"Yo." Was all he said.

Though dismissive and already uncomfortable, it was enough to work with.

You smoothed out your uniform with a nervous sigh, "Um- I'm sorry if this is forward, but,"

"I think you're really cute. I'd like to go on a date, sometime."

Kentarou looked angry even when he was shocked. The dark around his eyes made it impossible to look soft, and it seemed he didn't have the capacity to smile yet.

The only way you could deduce that he was embarrassed was the way his hands balled into fists at his sides, how he looked around your face over, over, and over again for an ounce of insincerity.

It was adorable. You giggled at his long silence.

Laughing shut him down. His mouth curled in a sneer, positive you were laughing at him.

The gaggle of girls, filling the entrance to the gym, all clad in your uniform, wasn't great for optics. It looked like you were playing a prank on him.

"Are you kiddin' me?" He rolled his eyes before you could even try to explain, "Go fuck yourself."

It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Though you loved your team, visible swarms of women never put the guys you went after at ease.

That rejection was still tame for what you had seen before from him.

He put his back to you and crossed his arms, watching the game, instead. Getting benched and made fun of couldn't have been a great feeling.

Determined now, you shook out your nerves and tapped his shoulder again.

"Tch-! I said fuck off!" He scowled down at you, but you knew it was misguided. So it didn't hurt as bad.

You purposefully didn't mirror his body language- you didn't want him to cut him off even more. You stood facing him at an angle, trying to catch his eye and take his attention again.

Voice quiet, sweeter, genuine, "I'm serious."

Even if this was a joke, you were the most persistent he had ever seen. Nobody usually got this far. If he told somebody to leave, they did. Especially after the second time, and a girl, at that.

"I mean- I get it if you're not into short girls, that's totally fine," You fixed your hair, glancing away from his overwhelmed, slow expression, "But, please, just... think about it. Here's my number."

For a moment, you were unsure if he would take the paper in your hand. He gave you zero indication that he believed your story, but after just enough time to make you doubt, he took it.

Kentarou held it tight, confused, as you joined your team to leave the gym. He watched them look over and preen you like birds to make sure you weren't hurt.

It could've been a real confession. The gravity of it didn't truly land until he was back home, looking up the girls' team Instagram to find your personal handle. You were following the page and even had a few features in their posts.

Doubts began to grow that it was your real number. He decided he didn't want to use it.

Instead, he lay on his bed, palming himself to the poses of your greatest receives- you were such a pretty girl, with a nice body, cute face--reminded of those things now, it only made him more skeptical at your choice to speak to him.

Luck was on his side once again, because your own profile was public. You even had a few beach posts. Lots of likes, lots of followers. You wouldn't notice if he liked a few of them, unless you were being honest about your interest.

You were all over his signals in a flash.

A follow, a bit of page-stalking that got you nowhere (because he had 0 online presence, other than a couple blank accounts), and a long string of messages that went deep into the night, all earned you a date.

Now that the game had officially begun, you needed to curate each move carefully. If you waited too long to take advantage of any clear signs of interest, he wouldn't find you worth the trouble. You needed some dick.

Kentarou was lonely, too.

It was as you suspected, monitoring him during that practice match. People who had a good support system didn't act that way he did.

He wasn't wistful, or desperate, and didn't invite friendship. Shit, he barely let you court him, and the only way you could convince him to meet you for coffee was if you sent a few pictures 'to prove it was just you.' And yet, after the one misunderstanding, he didn't deny you any opportunity to get close.

His experiences shaped him to be incredibly firm, mistrusting, and overly cautious, yes; It all fell short though, when it came to the very simple, universal longing for companionship.

The cafe wasn't too quiet, thankfully.

You were most worried about the possibility of him causing some sort of commotion and being asked to leave, but other patrons were lively enough to drown him out, if he did raise his voice.

To your surprise, that also wasn't much of an issue.

He ordered for the two of you, even -begrudgingly- accepting that you wanted a more intricate drink, too. He didn't let you do much for yourself. When he told you to go find a seat while he waited at the counter, you stayed with him so you could be close. He still didn't argue.

Though he wasn't polite, he wasn't a monster. He was just brimming with attitude, and that rubbed people the wrong way. When unprovoked, he was mean-looking, sure, but docile.

A predatory gaze watched the skirt of your casual dress flutter up- just a little, not quite enough- as you sat down next to him with your elaborate drink in hand. He set his cup down and you felt his leg flex as you closed the distance to snuggle up to him.

"You're taking this joke pretty far."

Insecurity filled the quiet between his words, and it took a sensitive ear to detect under all the venom. Was he testing you? Probably. Was he still trying to protect himself? Absolutely.

"Mm," You considered how to respond while sipping on your coffee, staring forward, not really minding his intensity, "I don't have the kind of time to go on fake dates, you know."

It was an argument less emotional in nature, but due to its legitimacy, it left him stumped enough to drop the subject.

In its wake remained discomfort. Mostly at your thigh, busy rubbing against him as you pretended to be more invested in the ambience of the cafe, or the flavor of the drink in your hands.

"What're you doing it for?" He pressed, different, but still carried with a grumbly, shitty attitude he always spoke in.

That took some getting used to, but once you understood he just talked that way, you were able to take his words at face value and waste less time miscommunicating.

A warm hand, palming the squish of your bare thigh encouraged your desire to be honest.

You waited for him to stop scanning the cafe, for the right moment to tell him.

His eyes dipped first to your pretty thighs, all soft and warm and new in his hand. Then he was taken by the all the sweetness in the way you looked at him.

"I wanna sleep with you."

You expected him to not believe you, like the first time, but his surprise was now pretty conventional.

His mouth hung open, just a little, and you noticed a tongue piercing. How did you miss it before? Did he not wear it at school? Your thighs tightened and he met it with a firm squeeze as he took a sobering drink of his coffee.

It was obvious he wanted to know why. But he was looking for something better to say, instead.

"The fuck are we doing here?"

That was a good question. Such a good question, in fact, that after a bit of conversation about where to go to fuck, you landed on going back to your place.

He made himself comfortable on your bed as you shut the door and locked it, just in case. Your room didn't have a whole lot of conversation starters, so he took a while to really examine it.

He wasn't witty, or spontaneous, or chatty.

There was no value in sitting around, acting like you wanted to delve into a discussion about each other's families, or grades, or volleyball.

His brow softened as you dropped the straps of your dress down.

There was a small attempt to look you in the eye, which you appreciated in a very limited context, but once you kept going, he might as well have been wearing a collar.

A half-sigh, half-laugh pushed out of his open mouth, brow furrowed again, as he tried to speak a few times while you posed for him, drunk on such a cute, endearing reaction.

There were a lot of things for him to think about. You could almost smell the smoke of grinding gears when you stood in front him and rubbed your hands against his shoulders.

He kept getting his fill, eyes unable to stay in one place too long, practically trying to back up so he could keep looking at all of you.

You giggled, "Kentarou?"

His breath stopped. You couldn't feel it, tingling across your skin, anymore.

You took some fingers to his curly hair, playing with it, "Aren't you gonna touch me?"

"I-," He didn't know what to do with himself for a moment, "Where?"

Your charmed, bitten back smile made his ears bright, bright red. Instead of telling him, you settled onto his lap and felt for his hands, gently guiding them towards your hips.

It was slow, natural, and gentle how you decided to kiss him.

You could feel how heated he was, with one hand on the back of his neck, the other cooling off the side of his face. One second to part for some breath, which he needed, badly- you waited for him to say something.

But he was forcing his mouth back onto yours quicker than you thought he would- his fingers dug into your flesh, and he brought you down onto his hard-on with a sudden loss of reservation.

It didn't take long to start catching that little tongue piercing against your lip- you groaned against his mouth, "Fuck, I really like that."

He was a fast, eager, and very rough learner. Kentarou was also laughably easy to please, because it was obvious he had no preferences built up yet. Everything you did left him stunned and hungry.

You reveled in your private victory and helped him undress. He wasn't shy about his own body, but you made it clear that he had a nice figure by taking the time to kiss along his muscular arm, then shoulder, and up to his neck.

His quickness to mirror you, kissing the same places on your body, was cute. He never once smiled, but he showed his investment in other ways.

When you offered to 69, he immediately fell onto his back from his upright position, rubbing his warm face.

A weak, "Yes," from under his palms was all you got, but it was so sweet from a guy like him. He sounded broken in, in a way.

You pressed a deserving kiss to his jaw and turned around.

His cock looked just as angry as he was, normally. Twitchy, leaking a bit of precum on his toned tummy, tinged dark with the all the time it had been waiting.

"You're- so fuckin' wet," He sounded stunned to say that aloud, understand what it actually meant, and that he was obsessed with it.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to the base of his cock as you settled into a good position.

How long had it been since you got laid? Apparently too long, because you were dripping with anticipation at the salty taste of his tip sliding past your teeth.

That was the downside of having such a specific type. Not many options.

He was still figuring out how to use his own mouth when you took the breath out of him- a strangled gasp at the sound, the sensation of your lips and tongue sucking off the slickness there. You held him by the base, briefly.

"You should let me know if you like it," You teased, just before bobbing your head back down.

"Mm-mmnh-! Fuck! Do I-ahh, have to?"

With that whiny tone?

You slowly came back up, careful to leave no spit behind. He was flexing in your jaw, his stomach twitching against your chest. Poor thing wouldn't last very long, he was so sensitive.

"Uhh, yes," You grinned, tongue darting out to lick him all the way down his shaft.

"Fuuuck- whatever- augh, just keep doin' that," His groan broke into a murmur of sorts, against your pussy.

From there, he was starting to find what worked with you. It was curious, and not great, but you didn't need it to be; something about the clingy way he held you, the shift in his attitude, was making you feel like you could take him already.

It made your nails dig, deep into his thighs, your already sparse breath grow a bit shorter.

Though his desperate tone and slow, gentle tongue made some parts of you tighten, it helped your throat relax and take more of him.

He started to come apart long before you wanted to be done.

Breathy, incomplete "Stopstop-sta-aah," every twenty seconds flattered you, letting you take more frequent breaks to ride his face and break in that little metal ball.

You thought about his nickname during one of these breaks. It was one of those instances where it seemed fitting, but for more than just surface-level aggression.

Nothing about him scared you. Not after you showed him that you had no ill-intention. He was like a dog. He wasn't vicious because it was in his nature; he just had a thorn in his paw.

He 'bit' people because they didn't give him a chance.

All of these chances you were giving him proved that he was worth all the effort to get close. It wasn't even much work, in hindsight.

You showed him the mechanics of the condom you brought for the occasion, and managed to talk him through some important sex-centered courtesies.

"So, y'know, you'll want to yield to whatever she's ready for--,"

Kentarou kept you from sitting on his cock, for just a second-- his eyes grew narrow, darting around your face.

"You mean: 'you.'" He corrected.

He looked like he was about to bite through your face.

"Right!" You smiled, growing a bit warm at your inconsiderate slip in language, "Yeah, of course."

Your apologetic kisses, smattered all along his sensitive face and neck, calmed him. His grip softened, slowly, as he became convinced that this was sacred again.

As you started to take him, he forgot all about it.

"Aughh- my go-d," He couldn't stop watching where you came together with a knotted brow, at how slick, and tight, and hot you were.

Your confidence read in the form of slow, rolling motions of your hips, the cloudy look in your eyes as you were finally getting filled up again after such a dry spell of no dick. You put your hands over his, already on your hips, and encouraged him to squeeze harder.

"Mmn-ah-h," You placed your hands on his chest, to keep yourself upright.

It hurt, how much he reciprocated that squeeze, but you quickly learned to like the sting.

Like most everything else, he replicated what you showed him. He started fucking you back, his hips able to take you faster, harder--

The pretty little pout on your lips was enough to make him screw his eyes shut, just to try to settle down.

He was getting so worked up at your tight little cunt that he was forced to let you keep your slower pace, contribute a little less, for fear he'd finish too soon.

His breath was like a stutter- so shallow and huffy that you rubbed your hand across his cheek, to check if he was okay. As you did this, the look in his eyes burned into the back of your skull.

You had seen that somewhere before. Not in someone you knew personally.

"Mm-mnh-!"

You were careful not to look away from it, and you only closed your eyes when it was too intense, too good to see straight.

The way he gripped you was like a lifeline, clawing, leaving rough and raised lines across you-- It wasn't intended to hurt, but more or less to make sure he left you with some lasting impression. He didn't understand that he didn't need to do it.

He couldn't take the concern on your face. Not as you fucked him so close, not with that perfect body taking his cock so well. Nobody ever looked at him with so much warmth.

"Ah! Just- just like that," You gasped, shaky all of a sudden.

"Fuck-," He sighed, suddenly having to remember what exactly he was doing.

He grimaced, face twisted in the pain of trying not to cum, head thrown back so he didn't have to look at you.

But your hand left his chest to grasp him by the jaw- it wasn't hard, but it was enough to move him. You begged him to look at you. You wanted him to watch you, and it looked like he was just short of a confessing something sinful.

Worship.

That's what you saw. In those narrowed eyes were praise, an exaltation of the love you had spared for him.

It filled you with a dizzying, raw confidence- you took in a breath through your nose, getting railed so hard, so close that your eyes started watering.

"Fuck- I'm-Ah--!" You couldn't quite finish your sentence before you crashed over, your body seized up, firm, grabbing and gripping him like you needed, wanted him so bad.

It left him a groveling, panting mess underneath you. He was watching in awe just like you told him to, only allowed to cum after you were done.

He fucked it all out of you, thanks to the timing. Your slow wave-riding kept you pleasant and buzzed as he fucked you hard for his own orgasm.

You even egged him on, breathless, a little smirk only interrupted by a pleasurable wince a couple of times.

"You wanna cum for me?"

"Yeah? Yeah?"

After finishing so loud and performative, nothing could have prepared you for how cuddly and silent he got.

You shouldn't have given into the desire to hug him, because he wouldn't let you move to pull him out.

"Mm-mm," Was pressed in a sloppy kiss against your neck.

Those muscular arms were shaking a little, just barely, around your waist.

"I'm- not going anywhere," You laughed, returning a few light kisses against his temple, "But we need to clean up."

He made it difficult, almost impossible, to separate and throw the condom away. You opted to just tie in a knot and throw it closer to the trash can so you didn't have to get up.

The way he watched you was careful, intense, looking for any opening to get closer to you again.

You finally sighed, smiling, "Okay."

Kentarou pulled you back down to lay next to him at the soonest opportunity. He kept an arm heavy over your chest, his leg kicked between yours, his eyes never leaving the side of your face.

His intensity was what you signed up for, but now, warm under his persistent and acute attention, you realized: maybe you hadn't thought this through the whole way.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[thanosscross]

Hello 🫣 A request for Thanos, I know he's a bit unhinged but I need some fluff for this man...<3

~ It's mentioned that Thanos was recruited by the businessman for the games whilst he was contemplating on a bridge. During the games, him and reader form relationship and during lights out after the mingle game, he feels comfortable with reader and starts opening up abt this etc and the reader comforts him etc...

Tysm!! ☁️🌟

Of course Oml I love this, and I'm always a sucker for the sappy sadness <3 and safe to say I think everybody is loving some un-hinged thanos content <3

My beauty flower - Choi Su-bong/Thanos x reader

summary: After you have a melt down in the six leg game, and again in Mingle, Thanos remembers he never kept his promise, and opens up to you more than you'd ever thought he would.

Warnings: Talks of attempted suicide, Thanos being a sweet guy for a few moments

You went into the games just like everybody else did, unknown to the trauma and death that was ahead, desperate to go home, but even more desperate to get your money for your three youngest siblings. You were basically on your own until first lights out, whenever someone who you'd come to know as Thanos grabbed you for his team. After that he clung onto you, making sure you were always right next to him, his arm either around you, or holding onto you somehow.

As you rushed into the small bright yellow room, you slid against the wall, it was the last round, at least that's what you thought the lady said over the speaker, Thanos had sent player 125 with Nam-gyu and dragged you with him to a room. "Woo! Isn't this fun, senorita!?" he shouted excitement flowing through his voice as he turned to look at you. You were sitting with your knees to your chest shaking your head "Hey don't break on me now! We need you!" He shouted rushing over to you as the door locked "I-I can't do this anymore!" You shouted back "I-I can't" You repeated quieter, realizing he could very easily leave you out of the group on your own. "What're you talking about? You've got this, you're the best player other than thanos the great" He protested, you just shook your head, letting a sob slip as you heard the click of the lock undoing. "Y/n. Look at me. You've got this, like we talked about last game remember? Shit might seem scary, but once it's done, we're alright" He said, the speaker announcing for everybody to make their way back to the room you all slept in. "See? Another game, another day" Thanos smiled, you just huffed and took his hand to help yourself up, he kept ahold of yours as he walked out "Welcome back, my friends!! Skrrt!" He shouted as he dragged you out towards the door, Nam-gyu rushed behind you two, desperate to catch up and ask why he chose you to go with him and not him.

Dinner that night was usual, Thanos fucking with you the entire time while you tried to eat, and Nam-gyu encouraging it all. It was whenever the lights went out that something weird happened, you were in bed, almost asleep on the other side of the room from your friends, until someone slowly slid under your covers next to you "Beauty flower" You heard Thanos whisper "You awake?" He asked, ghosting a hand over your hip "Mhmm" You hummed, slowly turning around to face him "What's wrong, thanos?" you asked, grogginess still covering your voice like a warm blanket "Call me Su-bong, but don't tell anybody" He whispered, giving you a serious look before cupping your cheek "I realized..during that leg game..I promised to tell you something about me" He whispered "I never did" Smiling you shook your head "remember? You said you were a rapper?" You joked "I'm serious" he offered, finally letting his hand rest on your hip, you relaxed further onto the uncomfortable stiff mattress, scooting back a bit to get a better view of this place.

"Something about me...is...growing up I never had a lot, so I started rapping for money, built up enough..and I lost it all in a fucking crypto scam..lost everything I ever worked for in life, gone" You could feel his frustration, both through his voice, and by his tightened grip on you "did some rap battles, ya know, try and rebuild? but I uh..Uhm..I got to the big leagues in a big battle..and forgot the words right at the end..anyways..I felt like I was ruining my own life, l-like, I'd never get rid of what was ruining my life because it was me" He explained, you frowned scooting closer to him, hugging him the best you could while laying down, he returned the hug by holding you tight against his chest "So I went to a bridge..and right before I was going to jump..a man walked up to me and offered me a spot to play here..did all of that..and then I met you, beauty flower, and it made me realize, the universe just had to kick me around to realize how special you truly are" He explained letting out a sigh, like it had been preventing him to breathe until he told you.

"Su-bong..I.." He cut you off "Please don't..say anything.." He whispered pressing a soft kiss to your forehead "I'm okay now, because my beauty flower and I are gonna finish these games and win that money!!" He shouted, laughing as you were both 'shh'ed by others around you trying to sleep. You giggled quietly holding onto his shirt, his jacket most likely discarded around his bunk "Are you gonna go back to your own bed, Thanos?" You asked playfully "I told you, Su-bong, and no, I'm good here" He replied, leaving his arm around you, using his other arm to steal your pillow, replacing it with said arm so you weren't left with nothing. "Really?" you gasped, shoving him onto his back, laying your head onto his chest sighing "Really?" He mocked, resting a hand on your lower back, and resting his head on his other arm "Why do you want me to call you Su-bong?" You asked softly, you were actually confused, you couldn't understand why "I trust you, beauty flower, you make me..feel like I don't have to be a badass all the time" He explained resting his chin on the top of your head "Oh.." You whispered, going quiet "Is that okay?.." He asked nervously, pulling his hand out from under his head instantly reaching for his necklace, but you caught it before he could grab it "Yea..it's okay." You replied, before taking a moment, trying to build up your confidence to speak again "I think I love you, su-bong" You whispered, squeezing his necklace tightly, it was his turn to take your hand "Don't-..." He stopped himself, looking at his face, you could tell his was fighting himself, for a second you could feel your heart drop, that was stupid to say to him "I love you too, y/n" He finally responded, pulling you closer to him "Now..go to sleep...gotta make sure we're ready for the game tomorrow" He lectured before laying back down on his back, running his hand up and down it, trying his best to soothe you to sleep.

---

So..what do we think?

[andersweek2025]

Join us for Anders Week 2025 from the 3rd - 9th February!

Get ready, Anders fans - it’s time to celebrate our favorite apostate in all his messy, magical, and magnificent glory! Join us for a week-long event filled with creativity, love, and appreciation for everything Anders.

Our list of prompts:

Magic Monday: Healing / The Fade / Power Tender Tuesday: Cats / Love / Safety Wistful Wednesday: Dreams / Loss / Longing Throwback Thursday: Circle Days / Past Relationships / Grey Wardens Fugitive Friday: Apostate / On the Run / Freedom Salvation Saturday: The Clinic / Manifesto / Light in the Darkness Sacrifice Sunday: Justice / Martyrdom / Greater Good

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Share an art/fic rec list that fits the theme of the day! Share your Anders headcanons inspired by any of the prompts! Tag us in your Anders-related WIP Wednesday posts if you'd like us to share them!

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See below for our event guidelines.

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Important Notes

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No AI: Let’s keep the creativity 100% human!

[sagekjs21]

@korrasera No, I actually completed my studies quite some time ago. I have earned my degree and graduated. I earned my degree in the summer of 2012. So granted I will absolutely admit that I am fairly rusty.

As I've said, I'm not aiming for operant conditioning here, strictly classical. I want my child to associate going out in the street unaccompanied by an adult with a sense of that being incredibly wrong, whether that would mean a hint of pain or a hint of fear. I don't want them to think that running unaccompanied out into the road is a safe or fun activity. And yes, I am well aware that conditioning takes time. That much I do definitely remember. But I also remember that when Pavlov was doing his experiment with his dogs, it took a lot less time than he was assuming. Although to be quite honest I don't remember the specifics as far as time amounts go other than I remember his surprise at what he ended up discovering. 

Is spanking traumatic? In many cases definitely, I would agree with that. In all cases? No. No it is not, because that would mean that literally every single child brought up in the United States public school system from like the 1920s through the 1970s would have severe trauma. And this is simply not true. Corporal punishment ran rampant in public schools in America back in those days, and, while there are certainly some traumatized adults for sure, not everybody is going around with complex trauma.So this argument is just simply not true. In order to truly deduce how traumatic spanking is to a child, there would have to be a lot more research done than is currently being done. Also, every child to ever receive any kind of spanking, even if they only received one in their entire childhood, would have to be studied for decades beyond their childhood just to ensure the accuracy of the study. This is simply not possible. Child abuse is absolutely traumatizing, I will never diminish that. But a SWAT on the butt or the wrist that causes literally about 15 seconds worth of pain and leaves no mark and that is implemented maybe a maximum of five times in a child's life is not going to lead to PTSD by any means. there would have to be some other factor involved, some other type of abuse going on.

I'm under the assumption that I will fail as a parent. On the contrary, I know full well that I will fail my child in some respect as a parent. Why? Because there is no such thing as a perfect parent. There are great parents, there are Zent parents, there are negligent parents, and there are abusive parents. There are also parents that are quite inconsistent. I strive to be a great parent, but I have no delusions that I will be a perfect parent by any means. That simply doesn't exist. It doesn't matter how educated someone is, how hard someone tries, how kind, loving, patient, perfection and parenting simply will never exist. So will I fail? Absolutely. And I pray it won't be too severely.

But if my kid accidentally runs out into the middle of the street, if I am simply too slow to catch them and if I'm calling their name and they don't stop, that is not a failure on my part. That is simply an unfortunate happening, an unfortunate event. I tried my best, I wasn't ignoring my child, I was just too slow. The reality is, I'm partially blind. I don't see well in bright sunlight, so if it's bright and sunny outside and my kid runs out into the middle of the road, I will absolutely chase after them, but what if I trip on something on the ground? Is that my fault? No, it's just an unfortunate happening. This has nothing to do with me fearing my future role as a mother, not at all. This has to do with practicality. It has to do with safety measures. It has to do with prevention.

I completely agree with your third to last paragraph. Everything in that is golden, I'm totally with you. But again, this has nothing to do with my fear of failure. It has to do with safety. It doesn't matter how attentive a parent is, unless you keep your child in a plastic bubble literally, you cannot protect them from absolutely everything. It is simply impossible. For instance, you have to sleep at some point correct? You can't supervise them 24 hours a day. You can do your best and that's all you can do. And this is why small, fairly harmless, preventative measures are necessary. I'm not afraid of failing my child, I'm afraid that in the event I could not get to them fast enough their life could be in danger. That's a rational and reasonable fear. It has nothing to do with me being inadequate, it has to do with life being complicated. But I'm with you on parents not letting their kids become independent adult adults in adolescence, that's completely abusive and selfish and just plain wrong. So at least we agree there.  

When people get pregnant, they will give up smoking, give up alcohol, give up coffee and soda, give up fondue and raw cheese, give up cold cuts and sushi, all because they have heard somewhere, from someone, that these things can be bad for the baby. They don’t know the research, haven’t looked at the studies, can’t talk about sample sizes and control groups. But their dedication to their future child’s safety is so strong, their caution is so overpowering, that they give up these things just in case. 

So it baffles me when those same people will insist on spanking their kids. 

Even when they are shown the research.

 Regardless of what the experts in the field say. 

No matter who says it. 

Or how it is said. 

People are so invested in this ability to hit their kids without judgement or consequence, that it absolutely confounds me. 

[angstywaifu]

Underestimated - Bodhi Durran

Request/Prompt: Bodhi and reader get into a fight during challenges because Bodhi underestimates her and she kicks his ass. And he finds it really hot and maybe they end up sleeping together from @fictional-babes-inc

Warnings: sparing/fighting, slightly dominant Bodhi. Masterlist | Support Me

Name after name gets called. Riders pairing up against each other on the mat, all of us trying to prove ourselves. It was the one thing the Rider’s Quadrant never lacked. Competition. We were all trying to be the best, trying to make sure we came out on top while we fought on these mats. Especially with Threshing fast approaching. We all wanted to prove we were the better fighter or take out those we saw as threats. And I loved the thrill of it.

”You look like you’re itching for a challenge.” Garrick teases from next to me.

He knew better than anyone how much I enjoyed being on the mat. Having been in the same foster home we knew each other very well. The only person who knew him better than me was probably Xaden, as they knew each other before the rebellion. My parents were part of the rebellion, but they were as high up and were a later addition to the cause. Meaning I didn’t know a lot of the other marked ones as well as the others.

”You know me too well. It’s been too long since I’ve been on that mat.” I tell him with a smile which he mirrors back.

I’d somehow managed to escape being called up for any challenges last week, meaning it had been almost two weeks since I’d been on the mat for a challenge. I’d missed it.

”Tavis, you’re up.” The professor calls up as he waves Garrick over to an open mat, a Cadet from my year going pale at the sight of Garrick walking over. Good luck kid.

Not long after Garrick walks away, Bodhi slots into his place. Yet again late for challenges. I swear he was never on time.

”Are you ever going to be on time for this?” I tease him, rocking into his shoulder as he playfully shoves me away.

”One day, but don’t hold your breath.” He teases back with a goofy grin.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

He laughs in response before turning his attention back to the challenges at hand, mine drifting to Garrick who has the first year pinned to the mat already, their face bright red as Garrick cuts off their airflow with his arm. And he wonders why most of my year are afraid of him.

”Y/N and Felix, you’re up.” The professor calls across the room.

As I go to step forward Bodhi grabs my arm. “He’s going to knock you out, don’t.”

I furrow my brow at Bodhi. Due to his lateness to nearly every challenge he’d never actually seen me fight. And honestly the way he questions my ability now hurts. Especially seeing as Xaden had excused me from the training he had allocated to the other marked ones who were lacking in their fighting skills.

”Don’t think I can handle myself?” I challenge as I step towards him, Bodhi swallowing nervously.

”No, I’m sure I can. But…. He’s like triple you’re size.” He says nervously, clearly noting he’s angered me.

Fine, he thinks I can’t handle myself, I’ll prove him wrong.

I turn my head towards the Professor who is looking at us with a furrowed brow, clearly not liking Bodhi’s interruption. “I’d like to challenge Bodhi Durran instead.”

I feel Bodhi’s grasp on my arm slacken. “Y/N, that’s not what I me-”

”Done. On the mat Cadets.”

I free my arm from Bodhi’s grip, walking past a Garrick who laughs and shakes his head as he heads back to our spot. “Have fun Bodhi.”

I hear Bodhi stutter behind me, worry clearly setting in as he follow me to the mat. He wants to underestimate me? Fine. Just be prepared for the consequences. I turn on the mat to face Bodhi, seeing Garrick and Xaden standing where we were moments ago trying to contain their laughter as Bodhi joins me on the mat.

We both settle into a fighting stance and I’m glad to see a determined look to cross Bodhi’s face. He better not go easy on me. And I hope Garrick’s words were enough for him to rethink his approach to me.

Despite him underestimating me, Bodhi is the first to move, lunging forward as he aims a quick jab at my shoulder. I can tell there isn’t much power behind it, clearly testing how I would react and move. I lean back just enough to feel the air rush past me as he missed by a few inches. I watch as his brow twitches with surprise as I sidestep it with ease.

”Nice reflexes.” He praises as we start to circle each other.

I shrug and smirk at him. “Didn’t think you’d be so predictable.”

I watch as he smirks at my words, clearly seeing the challenge I’ve laid out for him. He might be the softer and more docile version of Xaden and Garrick, but deep down he was the same, you just had to find the right buttons to push.

This time he comes at my harder, faster, his strikes becoming more and more calculated. But unlike him, I’d had weeks to study how he fought. Studying his rhythm, the way he shifted his weight around. He steps towards me, throwing a right hook which I’d seen him do before. I duck low, twisting around him before landing a punch in his back.

’See, predictable.” I tease again.

Bodhi turns and smiles at me before charging at me again, feinting left before he aims a kick towards my ribs. I catch his leg mid air and sweep his other foot out from under him, Bodhi hitting the mat with a loud thud, his shocked expression priceless as I stand over him, pinning him to the mat as I press my foot into his shoulder.

”You good down there?” I joke as he squirms under me.

Bodhi just growls in frustration as he shoves my foot off him, rolling back to his feet as he settles back into a fighting stance. He comes at me again faster and sharper, trying to change things up. Just like Felix, Bodhi had size and strength over me. But I could use that to my advantage like I always did. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging till I see the opening I need. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging until I saw the opening I needed. And when it came I didn’t hesitate. A swift strike to his shoulder throwing him off balance, followed by a solid kick to his knee sending him stumbling backwards onto the mat again, his body landing with a loud thud.

”Point proven.” He grunts out as he rubs the pack of his head which had just missed hitting the mat and had landed on the wooden floor.

”You’re not a sore loser, are you?” I ask, holding my hand out to him.

He grasps my hand, pushing off the ground as I pull him up. “Not when the fights this fun,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a fraction of a second. He catches himself, looking away quickly, but I saw it. Felt the intensity behind his eyes.

I step back, giving him room to breathe, though part of me wants to see what would happen if I didn’t. “Let me know when you’re ready for a rematch.” I say, turning towards the edge of the mat.

”I might need a minute to recover, from all of that.” He calls out to me.

Just before I step back into the crowd I turn and look at Bodhi, a smirking pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s a shame, because I don’t.”

Bodhi’s eyes go wide as Garrick chokes on his laughter as Xaden thumps him on the back, barely containing his own laughter. I don’t wait to see what Bodhi does, pushing through the crowd towards the doors.

”Dude, if you don’t go after her I might just do it.” I hear Garrick say from behind me, a muffled ow sounding from behind me that sounds awfully like Garrick as I step through the doors.

I know Bodhi has followed me when I don’t hear the door close behind me, the sound of rushed feet fast approaching me. I barely turn around before his hands grasp my hips, spinning me around as he lifts me up, pinning me to the wall.

My breath catches as my back meets the cold surface, the contrast sharp against the heat radiating from his body. His grip is firm, commanding, but his touch isn’t rough—it’s deliberate.

“Do you ever stop running circles around me?” Bodhi’s voice is low, gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and unreadable, and I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“I wasn’t running,” I manage to say, my voice breathless, betraying me. “You’re just slow.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile, but there’s something softer beneath it, something that makes my pulse race even faster. “Oh, is that how it is?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against my hip, just barely enough to be noticed. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been in my head since the moment you walked across that Parapet.

I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing he can see—or the fact that I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and steady despite the chaos between us. All I know is that my walls, the ones I’ve spent years perfecting, feel like they’re crumbling under the weight of this moment.

“You’re in mine too,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. They hang in the air between us, daring him to make the next move.

His smile fades, replaced by something deeper, more intense. “Say that again,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I swallow hard, my hands gripping his shoulders for balance—or maybe just to ground myself. “You’re in my head too, Bodhi. And it’s... infuriating.”

He exhales a soft laugh, his lips brushing against my temple as if testing the boundaries. “Good. At least we’re even.”

Before I can respond, he leans in, closing the gap between us, his lips hovering over mine. He hesitates for the briefest moment, his eyes searching mine for permission. And when I don’t pull away—when I tilt my head ever so slightly toward him—it’s all the confirmation he needs.

The kiss is bold, unapologetic, and all-consuming. It’s everything I don’t associate with the Bodhi I’ve come to know. The kind and caring Bodhi everyone sees. It’s not careful or slow—it’s fire and fury, a culmination of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment we’ve danced around this. My hands slide up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if proximity could quench the heat building between us. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, he doesn’t let go. His hands stay firmly on my hips, his forehead pressed to mine, his lips ghosting over the corner of my mouth like he’s not ready to let the moment end.

“You drive me insane,” he says softly, his voice rough but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Good,” I reply, a small, breathless smile tugging at my lips. “At least we agree on that."

[demonic0angel]

Spectra discovers the misery factory that is Gotham. Everybody has a bad time.

(Will just be focusing on Anger Management for this ask, but this is a VERY fun ask lmao, I love angst/comfort)

Red Hood tried not to let the tears fall as he firmly kept his finger on the trigger.

“I’m not scared of you,” he gritted out.

Spectra laughed. “Maybe not. But I know someone you’re scared of. You’re scared of Wolf, aren’t you? You’re scared that she won’t like what she sees when she finds the true you. Your worries certainly have merit. After all, who can expect someone like her, brilliant, beautiful, powerful, to like someone like you? Someone who can never understand her, someone who is as disgusting and damaged and weak as you.”

“I-I—!!” His hands trembled and the gun nearly slipped.

Spectra smirked and prowled closer. “You’re nothing compared to her. My apprentice was raised into excellence by me. She’ll know. She’ll know that someone like you is beneath her. Someone who doesn’t even deserve to touch her feet. After all, who would like someone like you, who died in such a pathetic way?”

Red Hood inhaled, trying to clear the spots in his vision as the tears persisted. “I’m not pathetic! I got to where I am with my own strength and will! I crawled out of my own grave! I am—!”

“You’re nothing,” Spectra hissed, her eyes flashing. “You’re nothing but a spineless, cold-blooded murderer who begs his daddy for love. No one mourned you. No one cared for you. You were replaced like nothing because you are nothing. The Lazarus pits have healed you, wiped away your outer scars, but the inner ugliness still remain, don’t they? No one will love you. Not your siblings, not your father, not Wolf. You are an unloveable, forgettable trash who should’ve died on the streets.”

A voice interrupted her, but Red Hood was completely and utterly hyperventilating already.

“Spectra. Enough.”

Red Hood froze in his place, shivering like an abandoned dog as Wolf strode across the roof towards them. He bit down on his lower lip, stifling a whimper as the gun dropped from his hands. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve done everyone a favor and—

Wolf shot a strange bullet at Spectra, who disappeared with a hateful scream. Red Hood could not see through his tears, fogging the inside of his helmet and as everything began to close around him, like the coffin that used to hold him in his death, he tore it all off like he had done before at the age of 15, weak and helpless and mindless. He whimpered and whined and clawed at the mask on his eyes, wanting it off, off, off—

Hands gripped his wrists and Jason reared back with a sob. Everything felt wrong, like his skin was keeping him caged and the air of Gotham City was too cold and he felt boiling hot like shame and embarrassment and Wolf was looking at him through her helmet. She let go of one wrist and for a moment, Jason wondered if she had truly thought that he was disgusting, when she reached for his face and gingerly held his cheek in one gloved hand.

The gentle touch immediately pulled him away from his thoughts.

His breath hitched and he blinked away hot tears, closing his eyes as he just focused on her touch. She let go of the other hand and then pulled him into a hug, cradling him and for a moment, Jason wished he was 15 again, undamaged, innocent, and clean, untouched by death and murder.

But for now, he just held tightly onto Wolf and sobbed as she murmured sweet nothings into his ears only.

“Shhh… it’s okay. Nothing she said was true. I promise you, I’ll stay by your side no matter what. Shhh, it’s alright, you’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay…”

[sucodelaranja86]

Baking n shared kisses w Hyun-Ju perchance?😇

- baking with Hyun-ju : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: money is getting tight, so your girlfriend is teaching you how to bake a cake for your upcoming birthday.

warnings: none.

genre: fluff

A/N: This request is so cute what ;33

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ "No, no, no. You don't stir with a metal spoon."

You were currently getting scolded for your 3rd error that night. Baking shouldn't be that hard! You had bought the idea of making your own cake as a way of saving for some money for your upcoming birthday, but it seemed baking was just not for you.

"Cmon, Hyun-ju! Everything i do is 'wrong' or 'not right' now?" you objected, already annoyed with how many times she had corrected you in just the making of the icing.

"It is if you don't do it right." she affirmed, her voice a bit stern. She then continued, "And you're the one who asked me to teach you, baking a cake is not the hardest thing to do. i could simply bake one for you without a problem."

"You're just saying that because you're naturally talented." you alleged, trying to get on her good side after having nagged her all night.

"Didn't you say you were having a hard time finding a job? Maybe you could just stay at home while i wor- ouch! What was that for?" you chanted in an exaggerated furious tone after receiving a slight slap to your nape.

"If you're trying to flatter me, it's not working." she retoned with a sigh, finishing picking up the necessary ingredients. After a few seconds, she added. "Now hurry up. If you're having a hard time with the easiest part, then you're not gonna last much longer."

-

After giving the icing part to her, you followed her directions to the hilt (mainly to not get slapped again). You started by pre-hesting tue oven, and then started mixing the ingredients in a separate bowl for the batter. Eggs, milk, butter, flour, sugar, baking powder... This was kind of fun!

You added a bit of vanilla to the mix, smelling already a good scent coming from the bowl. However, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden peck to your lips, surprising you for a second.

You look up to see Hyun-ju smilling satisfied at you."See? When you follow my orders correctly, things don't go wrong." she gently assured you. However, she could notice your dream-stuck face, and an idea immediately popped into her head.

"There is much more where this one came from. If i notice you are doing it right, i might reward you, lovely." she whispered teasingly while giving your nose a playful bop, getting it a bit dirty from flour.

"Yes, ma'am!"

-

"It burned a little..." you mutter disappointingly, turning you head up to look at Hyun-ju, waiting for what she was going to say.

"You overcooked it for some minutes." she acclaimed. You look down, upset that you managed to ruin the perfect dough you prepared so proudly. Hyun-ju, however, noticed your melancholy, and quickly bowed down a bit to you level.

She puts her hands on each of your shoulders, whispering softly in hopes to soothe you. "Don't worry, nobody gets it perfect on the first few tries. I'm very happy i got to spend time with you, sweetheart. You're sweeter than any cake we could have baked today." she assured you.

She then turned you delicately towards her, putting her hand on your cheek and kissing you. Her docile methods quickly lifting up your mood.

As you both separate from each from each others lips to breathe, you give her a confident look, smirking slightly while proposing the following suggestion.

"You're still gonna bake me a cake for my birthday, right?"

with a sigh, she responded.

"Yes, my dear. I am."

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I'll try to be nice and polite about it because I really think you are coming from a good place: but the thing is you are just wrong.

At least based on my perspective as part of the Latam, all the factors you mentioned were struggles for you and others from the US to learn foreing languages happened here. The difference is that the average brazilian with no classes till maybe high school, the idea learning english is hard and boring and no incitive whastover still needs to know english to get okay-ish jobs, to study in certain academic fields, even to just deal with rude turists in some places. English is more and more becaming a skill that is unacessible but we still HAVE to get.

And this is by design. Is a way to keep us in our place, if we don't understand your language the oportunities created by the US egemony are closed to us and that makes less likely for people from Latin America, specially poor and native people, to get even remotedly close to an even playing field.

The problem isn't simply that you guys don't know our languages is that not knowing our languages means nothing. Doors aren't closed to you the same way they are to us. In that way the biggest problem is that we are forced to know yours.

In Brazil in theory we learn english starting at middle school. When I went to school it was starting when we were eleven. If you ever went to an english class in most public schools or even rural private schools you know that's not really how it works. We spend ten years on the "to be" verb. English was the grade people did because it was easy since we didn't actually had to do shit. The very marjority of people I know don't know english and all the ones I know that do did not learn it from school. But all of them feel like they have to.

In a more personal level I love english, I always loved languages and I would have loved to have learned english at school for fun.

But I learned english because my parents begged from relatives and took extra hours at work to give me some classes and the classes didn't even work as much as I noticed how hard it was for them and had to find ways to make it work for me. And my parents did all that because my cousin failed a bunch of job interviews for not knowing english. They did that because according to them "knowing english was becaming less a skill that helped someone in getting a great job and more a skill you needed to have to get most jobs." Neither of my parents speak english. But they did their best so me and my brother could (mostly via making me teach my brother cause they couldn't pay lessons for the both of us).

I had none of that to help me learn spanish nor italian nor any language I would love to learn for fun if I had the time.

I didn't learn english because it was fun. My brother hates languages. He still learned english after painfull horrible lessons that made me give up on my dreams of ever being a teacher.

The problems are way deeper than your shitty educacional system and it angers people like us because we had all the same problems and were forced to learn your language anyway only to see someone go "well we never had the chance" when neither did we. And I understand that not being incentivized to learn sucks, we didn't either, but the problem is way deeper. They don't want us to learn your language. They want us to have to but fail so that can be used as a justification to deny us oportunities. Is why imigrant characthers with broken english are still a joke on your media.

And this is what this post and this conversation is about. Not knowing other languages might be a result of bad education, might even be by design. But not HAVING to DESPITE the lack of everything is a privilege. And this is the point.

I rarely bring this up because it feels like fairly silly and low-stakes compared to all the other effects of american imperialism, but one of the funniest things when Americans deny that living in the imperial core and the center of global cultural hegemony confers them any sort of privilege over people from the imperial periphery is that like. In order for this conversation where you tell me you have no privilege over me to even be able to take place one of us had to learn the other's language, and it wasn't you.

I think the fact that by default the onus of learning the other's language to enable communication is always put on the other side is a pretty significant privilege on the cultural front.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.” 

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine. 

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.” 

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.” 

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.” 

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.” 

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.” 

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.” 

“Right, sure.” 

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath. 

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up. 

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message. 

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’ 

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette. 

‘I can dig some out’ you type back. 

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place. 

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering. 

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple. 

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde. 

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television. 

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis. 

‘Here. I think.’ 

‘I’ll come down’. You type back. 

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more. 

‘Right by the door.’ 

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet. 

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod. 

“Not at all.” 

“I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin. 

“Oh?” 

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down. 

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.” 

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there. 

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side. 

“Sure, uh... right.” 

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick. 

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street. 

“Ready,” you assure him. 

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it? 

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night. 

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing. 

“We’re here,” he proclaims. 

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously. 

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar.  “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.” 

“Mhm, good friend.” 

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.” 

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?” 

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.” 

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near. 

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow. 

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.” 

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp. 

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.” 

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant. 

“You got a lot of experience?” 

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.” 

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.” 

“You want a few tips?” 

“Think I need them.” 

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.” 

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.” 

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder. 

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.” 

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening. 

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.” 

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.  

“Lucky,” you say. 

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?” 

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.” 

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.” 

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun. 

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.” 

“What? No I didn’t.” 

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.” 

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head. 

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.” 

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind. 

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.” 

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike. 

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.” 

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.” 

“You had fun?” He asks. 

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.” 

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.” 

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.” 

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh. 

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”  

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?” 

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” 

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

“I’ll text,” he mutters. 

“I’ll answer.” 

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed. 

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date! 

Was it really real? After everything? You think so. 

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished. 

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all. 

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal. 

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better. 

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid. 

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod. 

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for... 

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’ 

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it. 

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb. 

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away. 

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space. 

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares. 

“Slut.” 

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch. 

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down. 

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else. 

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp. 

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight. 

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly. 

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’ 

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send. 

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’ 

‘No thx. Not interested’ 

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’ 

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for. 

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’ 

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How? 

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence. 

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too. 

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret. 

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before? 

📱

“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window. 

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says. 

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.” 

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.” 

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.” 

“You’re right though,” he snorts. 

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.” 

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.” 

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.” 

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.” 

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands. 

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.” 

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain. 

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?” 

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say. 

“Really? Something actually scares you?” 

“What do you mean?” You scoff. 

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know... what?” 

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.” 

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.” 

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.” 

“RBF?” You wonder. 

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.” 

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away. 

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?” 

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths. 

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders. 

“Scared yet?” He asks. 

You giggle, “only a little.” 

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting. 

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases. 

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.” 

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.” 

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?” 

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer. 

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away. 

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?” 

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.” 

“Can I do it again?” He asks. 

You quiver and nod, “sure.” 

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer. 

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.  

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.” 

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you? 

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win. 

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself. 

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh. 

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote. 

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks. 

“Yep.” You call back. 

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says. 

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night. 

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move. 

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.” 

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?” 

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?” 

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him. 

“So why are you running away?” 

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'. 

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.” 

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.” 

“So yeah...” 

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?” 

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” 

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.” 

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.” 

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape. 

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.” 

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?” 

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” 

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought.  You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.  

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.” 

[dolliels]

HANAHAKI..

synopsis: hanahaki + the second years. you don't like them back.

WHAT IS HANAKI? a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. This problem can also be solved if the victim goes through surgery, but since the disease is caused by a grief of such a strong emotion, love, the patient will lose all ability to feel.

riddle 

riddle grew up alone, mostly. every time he seeked for comfort, for company, it’ll fall apart. it would always go wrong, he’d lose everything the moment he got too greedy.

riddle still struggled to properly face trey and chen’ya after all those years, even if he got better with it. it was too embarrassing, too lame. he felt like a loser. a sore loser who deserved nothing. oh sevens, did the world have something against him?

things were looking on the bright side. he was out of his mother’s furious grip, he has more freedom than he ever did (even if he goes by strict rules) he could make as many friends as he liked and hang out with them as much as he liked.

he still preferred being private, however. he liked his friends, you included. they were more understanding of him than any other member of the school. although he’d twist and turn in bed when he thinks back to his overblot (how embarrassing of me! he thinks) he would still much prefer being with those who accepted him a long time ago.

you weren’t too big on sweets. you liked them, sure, but the more you ate the more your mouth felt itchy. knowing riddle’s sweet tooth, sometimes, you’d secretly pass your unfinished slice of cake or unfinished strawberry tart to him. riddle rosehearts, the strict, germaphobic, lowkey a dictator, heartily took it,

if it were anyone else, he’d just stare at them in disbelief. but the thought that you bit into the very sweet treat, it threw him over the moon. he’d read of indirect kisses before, in cheesy romances he read in his spare time. he doesn’t know if this is actually an indirect kiss, but don’t make fun of him, he’s still learning!

riddle has a lot of firsts, like the first time he tried that strawberry tart, or the first time he learned that playing with friends is fun, or the first time he ever overblotted, or the first time he fell in love.

you were his first love.

he turns red when alone, imagining your face and your laughter and your joy. your silly mishaps that he has no heart on lecturing you over, or your inability to understand some of the assignments. he finds all aspects of you cute— wonderful? he doesn’t know how to describe what he’d feeling, but it gets him all giddy.

he’s frustrated often, the way he started blushing violently when you ever get in close contact with him and how you always, always seem to be unaware of this. oblivion would send you to hell.

he’s been feeling quite nauseous lately, probably because of his failed attempts of clumsily sending you signals about how he feels.

it was to a point where he threw up… petals? petals…??????? oh my god, he’s throwing up petals!!!

riddle distinctively remembers reading about this during his first year, a disease of romance, love, and failure.

his heart sinks. maybe that’s why you failed to notice.

things never go his way, riddle thinks. he’s always feeling alone. every time he gets greedy for comfort, he loses it at the highest point of his life. when things are getting better, it takes turns for the worse. that’s why riddle likes to follow the rules.

by his third year, riddle’s back to being his strict, controlling prefect. except something’s different, he’s not as angry anymore. 

that’s to be expected, though. ever since the surgery, riddle has never been the same.

ruggie

He has grown up to treasure everything he has. 

ruggie isn’t as financially stable as others, he wasn’t lucky to be fortunate enough to get what he wants, whenever he wants.

So when he does get what he wants, ruggie makes sure to keep it close to his heart like it means everything. Most of the time, it does mean everything, all of it. his life.

he hardly gives away his things (please don’t mention the kids at the slums, he’ll turn awfully shy.) and takes anything he’s given.

when you would give him the tiniest amount of food, he’d gladly snatch it from your hands and walk away snickering.

easy target for food is what you are, he thinks.

most of the time, when people give things away to him, ruggie just assumes that it’s unwanted. he’d take leftovers no problem. it’s only when you’d constantly hand things to him, always have something to give him and remember he exists, does he think you’re odd. I mean, he’s fine with taking the forgotten leftovers, but what could he possibly do when you don’t forget him?

watch ruggie clumsily fiddle around with his fingers, scanning the area for your presence. he has learned to not worry, as you always manage to come find him everyday without fail. he feels noticed.

he starts to crave for that attention.

ruggie treasures things. he keeps them close in his heart very carefully. but what would he do when you steal his heart instead? where can he hide all the things that mean everything to him?

somehow, he doesn’t mind. he wants you to see him more, ruggie bucchi, his true self.

the crave he has for your is for some odd reason, unmet. you’re oblivious to his shy antics, the way his ears turn flat when you walk away or the way he holds onto the hem of your shirt just for a second longer.

notice him.

notice him.

notice him.

when you see the way he unconsciously covers his mouth whenever you meet eyes with him, or the how he’s constantly going to the infirmary, will you finally notice him?

there’s a trail of your favourite flowers.

ruggie bucchi keeps all the special things close to his heart. when you take his heart away, how else can he express his pathetic, unrequited love? by coughing up a disease ruggie would’ve called embarrassing and shameful if it weren’t for you.

azul

azul is sensitive. he notices things way too easily. the tiny, insignificant details of someone and how they react, he will notice. that is how azul finds out how a person truly feels about him.

even if azul and that other person were considered close friends, azul would still notice the tiny little details that make him unlikable to them even just a little. it’s been a habit for as long as he could remember.

everyone always had something they disliked about azul. it was fine with him, that was normal. everyone dislikes everyone about anything. it’s not like it deters long lasting relationships. azul shrugs it off, it doesn’t bother him. it’s comforting, even, knowing what people think about him.

so it was obvious to say it was near-horrid when no matter how much time azul spent time with you, he could not spot anything off about you, anything that said you didn’t like him.

as much as azul notices how people act around him, he also notices other people. he knows all their flaws, their good sides and their bad sides. even if he couldn’t read your thoughts about him at all, he still expected to see something out of the norm about you, a bad trait, something that made you human.

to him, you had none.

were you god? how come you were near-perfect in his eyes? during cold months, the tips of your nose and ears would flush pink like a cute plum while azul turned embarrassingly pink. he thought it was ugly and didn’t make him look good, but there nothing to prove that you thought the same. he couldn’t tell anything about you at all.

you were like a confusing puzzle piece to him. unsolvable, unreadable, flawless. perfect.

it took a while to adjust, but his unwavering respect for you turned into wavering thumps of his heart and dodging eyes. maybe you weren’t perfect after all, maybe azul just likes you.

the terrible urge to impress you grew stronger everyday. 

he wanted to look as perfect as you did to him.

how can he possibly ever look perfect,

when he is sick?

hovered over the toilet, azul clutched his chest as petals slid out of his mouth as if it were apart of him. well, it is apart of him, I guess. his love for you is one with him after all.

azul is sensitive, but he tries not to show it. not only is he good at catching the little things, he’s quick to anger or get hurt. the best he can do is hide them. so he hides the feeble emotion he calls love and comes back after winter break just as the same. he’s dutiful and runs his business like he normally would, and still hangs out with you time to time. he just feels more… empty? you’ll never know why he seems to be this way, no one really knows about the surgery.

jade

jade leech is often avoided by many people.

people find him creepy, odd, off-putting, unnerving… and more comments he hasn’t bothered to find out about.

those names don’t really bother him. in fact, he enjoys it. he loves watching people squirm in fear over something he says out of the blue. It’s exciting to watch a person try to decide if they should run away or not, unaware of jade’s capabilities.

he’s used to people avoiding him. for the sacrifice of entertainment, he isn’t all that popular. jade leech is used to it.

you were different, however.

your simply didn’t find him creepy. anything he said that was weird, you’d laugh it off and say something weird back too. jade’s height, creepy smile or the way he talks, it doesn’t seem to throw you off at all. you’d smile and wave at him when no one else dared to, you’d easily graze your skin against his and pay no mind, you’d approach him without second thoughts. It was like mutual trust, something jade has learned is difficult to find when you’re him.

so you meant everything. you were just as new and exciting, a pleasant surprise from the predicted fear everyone else has. you made him feel… seen for the first time in his life. 

soon, everything you did was like a horror movie (weird analogy, I know. but it’s jade leech we’re talking about!) the intensity of when the killer would approach, or when the character is alone and vulnerable, his heart pumps like wildfire as he watches expectantly to see what the new surprise would be. his favourite feeling was when the victim would die or escape, the tightening in his chest releasing as he excitedly watches what would happen next. that was you. you were his favourite feeling.

he loves the way your eyebrows moved in expression when you talked, he loved when you sneezed and looked around expecting a “bless you,” he loved the odd ways you attempted to hold your mug comfortably and most of all, he loved you. he love you very, very much.

jade leech is used to all kinds of things. he’s used to people avoiding him, he’s used to his brother’s tendencies to groan and complain at everything, he’s used to azul’s creepy capitalist tactics.

what he’s not used to, however, are the bubbly, excited emotions he feels when he gets to experiment with his beloved mushrooms, the way you took over his thoughts like the plague and most of all, he wasn’t used to the flowers spilling out of his mouth. 

this was odd, per say. jade knew of the hanahaki disease. he knew of all the downsides of it. but he never worried, because, how could he, jade fucking leech, ever love someone so pathetically?

he hoped that you’d love him back too. he oh-so deeply wished he was just as new and exciting to you as you were to him.

the blood meticulously dripped amongst his fingers, flower petals sticking to it alike. he laughed at himself. he’s always imagined that if he’d ever possibly get this disease, it’ll be flowers related to the water like lotuses or water lilies. he never thought he’d start coughing up such pathetic land-dweller flowers.

it was fine, though. jade would get used to it, eventually.

because after all, he’d rather die than stop loving you.

floyd

floyd is scary, he knows that. He’s quick to anger, moody, tall and intimidating. He’s doesn’t really care, though. He just does what he wants. He doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.

he likes fun surprises, something new, exciting. he thinks you meet that of that.

you’re not as scared as others, you respond to his pranks and squeezes positively, you respect his mood swings and he even caught a few glimpses of you defending floyd. he thinks you’re so cute!

it’s not odd to talk about the leech twins without mentioning you. floyd follows you every and jade just goes wherever floyd goes. it’s like a little trio.

others when he gets upset, return his squeezes (hesitatingly…he hugs tight!) and find him rather silly than scary.

jade thinks you were almost made for floyd, considering how well you two get along. although jade has been with floyd the longest, he can only tolerate to a certain. for you, however, it seemed to go endless. you were so much more patient with floyd then with anyone else. although floyd made be subtle about it, he’s grateful.

floyd adored you. you were everything he loves, for he loves you.

loved you.

loved? (love)

floyd started to ignore you. you’d tilt your head in confusion— you were upset. why would your best friend suddenly act like you weren’t even there? he wouldn’t even get mad, he’d just turn the other way.

it was only so long ago when floyd was hunched over in his bed from a terrible stomach ache. jade was horribly surprised to see bloody petals staining floyd’s bedsheets.

floyd never bothered with these things. for the first time in a while, he read a book out of his own volition to figure out what it was, only to rip the pages apart when he read what hanahaki was.

childishly declaring that he loves you no more, floyd would stay away from you like the plague, whilst secretly filling his system with flowers that will kill him for ever loving someone so deeply.

floyd is gonna disappear from your life completely eventually. you’d wonder what caused your best friend to suddenly hate you, while his family mourns over the loss of a loved one, as floyd refused treatment, because he foolishly decided to love you one day. 

kalim

kalim grew up very sheltered in a loving family. The only concept of love he has is of his parents, who hold hands tightly and gush over the cutest things. they often warn him of the danger of love, and that he must be careful about the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

kalim, although clumsy and stupid, always kept that in the back of his mind.

you were like a breath of fresh morning air.  growing up knowing very little, you were the newest, most brightest experience there was. kalim was sure you were the one. he was completely sure, why else would his heart thump so fast?

he’d hug you and hold your hand, give you gifts you could never even imagine having and tell you how much he appreciates you.

kalim hasn’t gone around to mouthing the word “love” yet, but he knows that you know anyway.

so when he started coughing up petals, jamil was quick to inform the al-asim family. kalim was confused, he didn’t understand. this love wasn’t unrequited, there was no way!

it doesn’t matter, though. he’s gonna continue loving you, you and him are gonna be happy together someday, eventually. maybe not in this universe.

kalim woke up in a hospital bed, his heart heavy.

he loves you. but he forgot what that feels like. he loved you. somehow.

jamil

jamil is smart. he’s smart and knows his worth. this is why he hates being in second, he knows he deserves so much more.

why does he always to have do worse than kalim? why does he always have to be second place? jamil is smart enough to know his potential. he also knows how much he’s holding himself back for the sake of hierarchy. he hates it.

it’s not a surprise when jamil finds himself unconsciously doing slower than certain people to appear normal. his main purpose in life is to not stand out, hide in the shadows, survive. like predator hiding from prey because if found, it will be caught by the silly humans.

you’re completely different from him, though. you’re as normal as a person can be, yet you aim to reach for the stars and hold it close to your heart. jamil understands your desire to outshine people all to well. he’s been in that spot, is in that spot. he pities you.

so he sticks around. he’d casually follow you, hang out whenever he can, help you with assignments so you can be the best version of yourself. he’s voraciously living through you. if you achieve your goals, that’s enough for him. at least he was apart of something meaningful for once.

it catches him off guard, however, when you encourage him to reach for his goals as well. it’s like you’re holding his hand and pull him amongst the galaxies to gently place your hands onto the hot touch of a star.

he knows that’s near impossible to reach, from the moment he was born, his life was chosen for him. but he thinks he could reach the small goals.

jamil secretly pats himself on the back for grazing against your skin for a second longer than usual, treat you to a nice meal or help you ace a test. he hopes that at least one of the goals he could reach in this lifetime is to be with you.

jamil is smart enough to know that he’s not just sick. not when blood trails down his chin to his arms, as flowers spill from inside him.

he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could have something for himself for once. not hold himself back, grasp tightly to what he wants the most.

jamil is smart enough to know his own worth. he’s definitely not worth enough to you.

silver

silver likes the little things. he enjoys the way birds chirp in the early morning, or the way the dandelion petals flow against the wind as he watches you scrunch your nose and blow on it. and then both of you guys start sneezing. ah, summer pollen, a reminiscent part of nature.

he loves the way you hold your pencil, the way you like to tie your shoelaces, how you cut your sandwiches. these small, unnoticeable traits catch his eye quite often, and he’s developed a fondness for them.

he’s a man of little words. silver doesn’t talk much, so when he thinks of these things, he never says it out loud. maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice how he felt about you.

he was so calming, and so gentle, it tugged at your heart when he’d smile softly and tilt his head ever so slightly so the cute birds could carefully place a beautiful flower crown on his head. he’s so princely, you think. a perfect knight in shining armour, loved even by the nature.

often you’d tell him how lucky any girl would be to be loved by him. your comments made silver hopeful.

silver is a man of little words, he likes to spend his days watching rather than showing. when he does finally speak his true thoughts, he genuine, honest. his words roll off his tongue so easily and smoothly, perfect fit for such a princely man (as you call him)

so when silver does finally open his mouth to speak, talk, say of what he felt in that very moment, he throat closed up. maybe he was nervous, maybe he was lame, because to both of your guy’s horror, blood spilled.

he didn’t really know what was happening. only when he felt the urge to throw up in the infirmary did he realize what was going on.

he was familiar with hanahaki. his father always told him stories of how fae would love so strongly to humans who hated them, that those who were unlucky would be induced to vomiting flowers.

when silver thought he was fae, just like his sweet old father, silver swore to himself that he’ll never love a human. now that he knows that he is, in fact, human, silver starts to doubt himself. maybe is, in a way, a fae.

it’s alright, though. silver is man of few words. he likes to watch rather than show. he doesn’t mind what could happen to him, he won’t tell anyone. he’ll just watch you from afar, filling his heart with melancholy love until he reaches his end. which might be soon, for he loves you so strongly.

this is also from my old acc, this was a req but i rlly liked wriitng it yayy (I literally named this doc 'what the flip' and i opened it by an off chance, i totally forgot about it lol)

[freezebobs]

DBFZ Yamcha and Ten cookies...done!!!

Soo I've been on a mission to recreate the Yamcha and Ten cookies from dragon ball fighterz because they're adorable...and they're finally real!! :'D process and info below! (kind of long lol)

I saw someone share these screencaps from the game a while ago and as someone who never played DBFZ I was so charmed at how cute these things are. I wondered if anyone had ever made cookie cutters for them, did a quick search and didn't really find anything, so just kind of moved on.

A few months later I remembered them again and was like, man, I really would love to see these brought to life lol. And I searched again and actually found someone who made them!!... But they weren't selling them anymore. 😭💔

^Reddit post from user ShadowLord898.

So in the next few days I went into the DBFZ game files, figured out how to navigate them and locate/open the proprietary file types (took...a lot of googling), and eventually found the cookie textures!!! Which I then painstakingly traced over to create vectors.

I thought once I had the vectors, it would be easy to drop them into a 3D program and extrude them to make the cookie cutters. BOY WAS I WRONG!!! It's probably just my inexperience working with vectors in 3D programs, but I tried Blender, Fusion 360, and Tinkercad and had problems in each one before finally figuring out the right approach. (I really almost gave up 🤧 but I hadn't realized that your geometry/topology don't need to be perfect when 3D modeling for print as opposed to, like, something you plan to create a texture for.)

Tinkercad and its extremely user friendly interface, plus SVG import functionality, saved me.

Oh then I realized I forgot to reverse the design, which you have to do for a cookie cutter because of how they work. I thought I would need to flip all the vectors and re-import them, recreate the models... but thankfully there's a "flip" button in Tinkercad. Fixed.

I sent the files over to my friend @.theprocrastinatingengineer on Instagram, who has a 3D printing service, and he was able to print them out for me!

While I was waiting for them to ship I downloaded Cura ("slicer" program for preparing 3D files for print) just for fun. (I was really eager...)

And here's when I finally got them!!!

Despite choosing all the dimensions carefully, I was still surprised how dainty they were when I actually held them in my hand. I wasn't sure if they would work...

So I made the dough and everything, used some 5mm thick chopsticks as guides to roll out the dough to the thickness I wanted. I put plastic wrap over the dough to prevent the cutters from directly touching the dough due to food safety concerns. Here is my first attempt to use them:

After this my mindset quickly shifted from caring about food safety to "what's a little more plastic in my system?" / "I'm here for a good time, not a long time!!" / "welll the dough gets baked anyway so that kills the germs it should be fiiine" **I Do Not recommend others to be so careless... also important note: I was the only one eating these so I didn't have to worry about others' safety 🥴

^The difference between using the cutters with and without the plastic wrap.

This first rolling out of the dough was actually a little too thick; in my design I hadn't accounted for the way the dough squishes up when you press the cutter into it. There wasn't enough vertical space at all, and the dough kept getting stuck in the cutter. It was a bad time!!! (didn't get a lot of photos of the failures here because my hands were covered in flour)

After lots of broken cookie cutouts, re-flouring the surface/cutters/rolling pin, and re-rolling the dough to be a bit thinner, I managed to get these out. I had to support Ten's head like a newborn when moving the dough onto the cookie sheet because the connection to the body was so delicate 😢

AND HERE THEY ARE...fully baked and ready 🥹

For the most part I was going to leave them undecorated like how they are in the game. But @.lamichicuenta made this really cute drawing of the cookies where Yamcha had chocolate decorations and Ten was a salty cracker, and I really wanted to try decorating some to resemble those!! Here are the photos of both versions of the cookies the next day once I was able to get some natural light for nicer pics.

(I meant to poke some holes in Ten's cookie to look more like a cracker but I forgot about it until they were already baking.)

They tasted fine...yamcha was better thanks to the chocolate. 🤭

If you read all this, thank you for following my cookie cutter journey... 😌🙏💖

Oh yeah and I made the vectors, 3D print files, and specs/info all available in a google drive folder here for anyone to use if they want! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1hQ7uq3leYPK64pGgt3LhFw-70IZnkYzh?usp=drive_link

OH and one last thing, i ended up revising the 3D models to hopefully fix the issue of not enough vertical space. ...turns out I hit the maximum for photos and videos in this post, but you can see it on my twitter here! https://twitter.com/freezebobs/status/1875720926840680678

I didn't get to try these revised models, but they are the ones I put in the drive folder. 😊👍

[tmbrstylnsn]

hii! i'm louis, i'm gonna answer all these about my system, the reveromantic system :3

1. which headmates are the iconic couple?

my instinct is to say me and harry, but i know that award goes to tommy and wilbur. theyve been here the longest and founded our system, plus theyre married so bonus points.

2. which headmates are the unlikely couple?

see, this has to go to tommy and wilbur again. me and harry, and liam and zayn, are both popular ships in our source. toms and wil arent, so they win this one again.

3. which headmates were enemies at first but are now best friends/a couple?

i dont think any of us were really enemies, since we formed as pairs. but i do have source memories of liam finding me super annoying before we became best mates, so theres that!

4. which headmate is the most different from the body?

ooh... personality wise, its gotta be harry or maybe liam? i think the others (including me) share traits with our separate DID system, so theres some similarity there. ill say harry, hes really unique <3

visually, ive gotta say tommy for being blonde. thats one hair colour our body has never had and probably never will have.

5. which headmates are city folk?

all of us ahaha, i dont think any of us like the country. maybe tommy would disagree, im not sure. he was real active back when we did live in the semi-country, so maybe hes got attachments to it?

6. which headmates are country folk?

not really any of us, but like i said maybe tommy?

7. which headmates have the most unique music taste?

ooh, i dont know if any of us do. i really like one direction, obviously, and me own music. i love harry and zayn's stuff too, but again our whole body loves that music so its not really unique?

i think we all just like our source music a lot, like tommy and wilbur are both lovejoy obsessed, and me, harry, zayn, and liam are 1D obsessed.

8. which headmates have the most specific role?

none of us have roles! our other sysmates in our DID system do, but we dont because we're nontraumagenic and just exist for fun :3

9. are there any headmates from a different state/city/place than the body?

well, all of us except tommy are british, and from various parts of england. im from doncaster, harry's from holmes chapel, zayn's from bradford, liam's from wolverhampton, wilbur's from london, and tommy is american but i think he was still born in nottingham? could be wrong :P

10. which headmates are emo/punk/goth?

ooh thats a good question. i think zayn probably leans the most like, punk or emo or whatever it is. none of us really do, i think we all just dress like normal lads. i do like me a good black cutoff shirt and skinny jeans, though!

11. what are some pet peeves headmates have about each other?

hm... i dunno if we have any at the moment. other than source memories, like me and liam getting on each other's nerves! but we all get on pretty well, generally.

12. what headmate was the biggest surprise?

definitely liam and zayn. i wasnt expecting them to form, after me and harry i thought it would just be us two, toms, and wilbur. i had no idea our mates would be forming too, but im glad they did! love these lads.

13. what headmate has a skill the body doesnt?

we tend to share skills, but i guess the british accents count? our body can do a british accent whenever, but its usually stronger and feels more natural/comfortable when one of us (bar tommy) is fronting and speaking in our specific accent.

14. which headmate makes the most typos?

gonna take a guess and say either harry or tommy, harry because hes a bit silly and loose with life, and tommy because hes probably talking too fast to fix it.

15. what headmate has the weirdest way of talking/typing?

hm... zayn for talking, me for typing. i say a lot of shit like "me" instead of my sometimes, "babes" a whole lot, stuff like that. it doesnt sound too weird verbally, but over text its quite obvious its me.

zayn for talking because hes got that rougher british accent that sounds distinctly different to the rest of us. cant quite describe it, but if youve heard source zayn talk yknow what i mean.

these were fun to answer!

- louis

SYSTEM ASK GAME!! FOR SYSTEMS OF ANY ORIGINS!! SYSMEDS DNI!!

Which headmates are the iconic couple

Which headmates are the unlikely couple

Which headmates were enemies at first and now best friends and/or a couple

Which headmate is the most different from the body?

Which headmates are city folk

Which headmates are country folk

Which headmates have the most unique music taste?

Which headmate has the most specific role?

Are there any headmates from a specific state/country/etc different from the body?

Which headmates are emo/punk/goth etc?

What are some pet peeves headmates have about other headmates?

What headmate was the biggest surpise?

What headmate has a skill that the body doesn't usually, but when they front the body gets it (or almost gets it)?

What headmate makes the most typos?

What headmate has the weirdest (/pos) way of talking/typing?

[instnewt]

A CHALLENGERS WRITER OMG IM SCREAMING!??!?!

Can I request a art donaldson x reader smut where art is just an obsessed pathetic perv (which is basically just art in general) and reader just teases him constantly?

Can I at least get your number? - Art Donaldson x Reader

pairings; college!art donaldson x fem!reader

summary; you find yourself alone in a hotel room with Art, who cant seem to get enough of you, but has no idea what to do about it.

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, virgin!art, overstim (m!recieving), slight edging (m!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), orgasm denial (m!recieving), sub!art, porn w a plot, slight brat!reader, reader is basically tashi duncan, art is smitten and touch starved

wc: 2.1k

a/n; i'm not sure how i feel about this, and i kinda just looked at the challengers script to start it off because i love love love that plot. i also haven't written any fics like this in ages so bear with me.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

This morning, you stepped onto the court for a high-stakes singles tennis tournament, and by the time it was over, you had wiped the floor with every opponent in your bracket. A smug grin danced on your lips as you left the court.

That moment marked the first time he had ever even heard of you. Sat on the bleachers, watching you play as if you were the first woman he had ever laid eyes on, was Art Donaldson and his best friend Patrick Zweig.

Patrick had brought Art to see your match with nothing but praises from his mouth. Knowing his friends type, Art had only shrugged it off. This girl couldn't have been that great.

Boy was he wrong.

"She’s in another league, she’s beautiful." Patrick said.

"You mean her game?"

"No, I mean she’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen."

And right on cue, you step onto the court, the announcer's voice ringing out in the background. Both Art and Patrick lean forward in their seats.

To say they both had boners by the end of your match would be an understatement.

-

Now, you stand at your own celebration party, sipping your drink and talking to some well wishers as an awkward duo approaches you. They stand there full of nervous energy, waiting for you to notice them. When you do, they both put out their hands at the same time for you to shake them.

"Hey, I’m Patrick Zwei-"

"Art Donald-"

"I know who you guys are," You say with a grin.

They both retract their hands, surprised.

"Fire and ice, right?"

"In the flesh," Patrick responds as Art blushes in embarrassment.

"You were… fucking incredible." Art adds. "Thank you."

You three conversed - or rather, they had buttered you up with compliments, until Patrick cuts the conversation off.

"Hey, do you smoke?"

You look at him, surprised. "Cigarettes?"

"Yeah." "What an incriminating question to ask at a tennis party." He smirks, taking your response as a yes. "Do you wanna get some air?"

You glance at Art, who is looking at Patrick, annoyed. You understand that these two boys are deeply smitten with you, and you decide that you're going to have some fun with it.

-

And thats how you end up in their hotel room, playing a game of truth or drink, half-empty beer cans littering the floor between you. They both flirted relentlessly with you for about an hour or two, until Patrick had to call it a night.

"You're right, that is a cute story." you say as you finish your beer.

You look at Art, who watches you like a lost puppy. He looks so pathetic and adorable, which is part of the reason why you've decided you like him more than the other boy. You can feel your gut heating up by the minute.

The ding of a message pierces the silence, startling the three of you. Patrick reaches into his pocket, bringing his phone into sight and reads the text.

"Shit, I uh.. I gotta go," He says, standing up off of the floor.

"Is everything a-" Art tries to ask, before Patrick swiftly cuts him off.

"Yeah, yeah," He says, throwing on a hoodie and making his way to the door. "I'll be back, don't wait up." He says before leaving the room.

The two of you now sit on the floor, dazed and confused. You bring your knees to your chest as you watch Art awkwardly shift his position as well.

"The fuck was that?" You ask.

"No clue."

A grin plays across your face as you look to the ground. Relishing in the awkward silence before Art makes his move.

"You're um.. you're really pretty by the way. I don't know if I've said that yet but, you are."

And that was it.

Moments later you were stood up, leading Art to the hotel bed. As you sat there, legs dangling off the side of the comforter, you noticed Arts knee bouncing up and down, his painfully hard and growing erection clearly visible in his pants.

"Kiss me." You say.

"What?" He asks in a voice that was so quiet it was barely a whisper.

"I want you to kiss me." You repeat, and Art almost faints on the spot.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed, then back at you.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

He's quickly leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, and he kisses you with innocent eagerness. He places a light hand around your waist, pulling you gently against him. He gasps softly against your lips, his heart racing wildly. you take control of the kiss as you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at, slipping your tongue in his mouth -- the innocent kiss soon turning into a full make out session.

Your hand moves down his neck, making Art gasp softly, his fingers digging into your waist as his tongue becomes bolder in your mouth.

He was practically on top of you at that point, so you push him back until he sits against the headboard, straddling his lap leaning into his flushed face to resume the kissing. He quickly places his hands on your waist, one of them moving up to the hem of your shirt and pushing it upwards slowly.

"You want me to take this off?" You whisper, breaking the kiss and Art's gentle touch gives you goosebumps.

Art looked at you with hooded eyes, licking his lips slightly. "yes, please…"

You smirk and grab the hem of your top, pulling it off your body. He let's out a shaky breath as he sees your bare torso, not expecting you to have been without a bra.

"Have you ever touched a girl before, Art?" You questioned, breaking his lingering gaze.

He swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing up and down.

"No, I... haven't" He admitted, aching to touch you.

"Don't be shy," You whisper with a smile, grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts.

Art stares at your face closely, eyes filled with lust as you place his hands on your breasts, squeezing gently. His thumbs hesitantly brush against your nipples, causing them to harden instantly.

"You're perfect," He breathed out, his words causing a wave of heat to crash over your body. With the way he touches you, as if he's worshipping you, makes your panties grow wetter by the second.

"I know." You mutter, squirming in his lap.

Art lets out a gasp as he feels your body grind against his crotch. He leans in, kissing along your jawline and down your neck, nipping softly as he goes.

You play with the hem of his shirt, and he immediately gets the hint, leaning back and pulling off his shirt quicker than he ever had before. Immediately he goes back to it, kissing at your neck before moving down to your chest.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his tongue lapping at one of your hard nipples. He groans as you reach up to tangle your hair in his blonde curls, sucking gently on the hard nub.

His hand moves eagerly between your legs as he slips his finger underneath the fabric of your shorts and panties. He rubs his fingers hesitantly over your pussy, not knowing exactly what to do with them next.

You hum at his action, then grab his hand and withdraw it from your panties. He gives you a confused look as you get off his lap and sit next to him, pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs. His breath hitches in his throat as he sees you completely bare beside him. He quickly shifts down the bed and reaches out to trace his finger along your upper thigh.

You grab his hand, leading it toward your heat and he's quick to draw small circles on your clit, causing you to lean your head back in pleasure.

He smiles proudly as he see's you respond to his touch, his digits pick up speed, pressing down on your swollen clit and receiving a moan from you in return as your hips buck into his touch. He leans upward to capture your lips in kiss, slipping his tongue inside your mouth which he had learned from you earlier. His finger slides down your slit, searching for your entrance and slipping it inside, feeling your slick coat his digits as he thrusted in and out.

"Is this okay?" He breaks the kiss, a hint of nervousness still lingering in his voice.

"Mhm, fuck" You curse as he adds a second finger, your pussy tightening around them as you feel your orgasm building.

you reach down and grab his wrist, stopping his actions.

"Take off your pants."

Art instantly leans onto his back, arching it slightly and pushing his boxers down his thighs, just enough to free his aching erection before you're on top of him, climbing onto his lap just like you had before. His breath catches in his throat, the sight of your wet pussy just inches from his cock making him shudder in anticipation.

He almost came on the spot.

With a release of breath, he places his hands on your hips. You grab his cock and place the tip against your entrance, causing an involuntary moan to leave his lips. You slowly lower yourself onto him, not being able to help but moan as you took him inside you.

He groans, hands moving to cup your ass as he begins to instinctively thrust up into you, making you bite your lower lip.

You ride him slowly at first, his dick reaching all the right spots inside you. He shudders as he bucks up into you, his fingers digging into your ass so hard that you're sure it'll leave bruises. You were so fucking tight, and he was so hard, the friction almost too much for him to handle.

"F-fuck." He curses.

You smirk as you watch him, helpless beneath you as you ride him. You tug at his hair, tilting his head back to suck on his neck, leaving a mark in it's wake. His eyes roll back into his head as he feels you tighten around him, thrusting into you desperately.

"Naughty boy," You whisper in his ear, a smug grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

You look back at him, completely flustered, cheeks flushed and blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

He groans, sliding one hand down to sloppily rub your clit, the other hand still on your ass.

"Don't stop, please," He breathes, his hip lifting up to meet every downward thrust of yours.

He whimpers, cock throbbing inside you aching for release. The sensation of his dick pounding into you along with the stimulation on your clit making you weak in the knees.

"That's a boy," you praised him, struggling to keep up the pace while riding him as pleasure swarms your body.

Art's eyes flutter shut. "Oh... fuck, i'm cumming," He moaned, pursing his lips together.

"Hold it," you demand, voice hard, "Not until I do."

He moans in frustration, shaking his head as his hips shudder into you, "Please.. I cant."

"Just a minute, baby, almost there," You assure, as you clench around him.

You continue riding him until you finally fall over the edge, letting out a string of moans as your body shakes in pleasure. You lean your head into the crook of his neck, your hands gripping at his shoulders as pleasure washes over you.

"Mmm, ok" you hum, "You can cum."

As soon as he gets permission, he cums with a loud whimper, almost a cry, shooting his thick seed inside you with long spurts. You milk his cock as you both ride out your highs.

You're both a panting mess, leaning your forehead against his as you both try to catch your breath.

After a few moments, you push off of him, eliciting a small gasp as you slide off his cock.

You push off of the bed, grabbing your clothes and redressing yourself, Art doing the same as he pulls up his boxers, a dumbstruck look on his sweat dripping face.

"A-are you leaving?" He asks.

"I uh, I should go before your friend returns," You smirk and bite your lip, grabbing your keys and bag and make your way to the hotel door.

"Can I at least get your number?" He calls, at a loss for words.

"See you at your match tomorrow," You reply before exiting the room, leaving Art with another growing boner, an unbelievable story for Patrick and a hickey to prove it.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶