#also I wrote this very late at night bc I could not sleep until I wrote it out

[glindafication]

I have seen a number of posts/fanfics that present the dynamic between Glinda and Morrible/the Wizard as very explicitly threatening and even downright abusive and I feel like that does kind of link to this.

I definitely understand where that vibe comes from and they are both certainly very manipulative characters, and there is also the fact that many of these works are not intended to strictly follow the canon anyway, but I do have some thoughts.

Firstly, I feel like Glinda is somewhat naive still in act 2. When she says things like 'I can't leave when people are looking to me to raise their spirits' (slightly paraphrased) it's clear that on some level she does believe what she's saying. She knows the system isn't perfect but she isn't completely disillusioned with it in the way that Elphaba and Fiyero are, at least at that point in the story. I also think it genuinely doesn't occur to her that Morrible caused the tornado that killed Nessa until Elphaba points it out.

Based on that, I think it's much more likely that Morrible and the Wizard are convincing her that what she's doing is good, rather than forcing her to stay through threat of violence or something similar. Some lines especially like the one I mentioned earlier or 'I am a public figure now, people expect me to be encouraging' sound to me like her repeating what they've said to her, rather than her own thoughts. The way some Glindas deliver this line sounds like she's trying to convince herself more-so than anybody else.

It's also worth noting that Glinda seems genuinely shocked when Morrible tells her to 'just smile and wave and shut up' in their conversation during march of the witch hunters, which would suggest that this is the first time Morrible has been this direct with Glinda and hasn't tried to conceal her bad intentions in any way. And Glinda is quick to use her power against Morrible and the Wizard very shortly after this.

Of course, there are a lot of factors influencing her decision to do this, but I think if the Wizard and Morrible had been explicitly threatening or outright harming her up to this point then her behaviour here wouldn't really make sense. She would've turned against them much sooner, or would've been too afraid to turn against them still.

The Wizard and Morrible also don't really feel like the sort of villains to explicitly threaten Glinda, at least not in their musical iterations. The threat is definitely there, with Glinda literally witnessing them turn the whole country against Elphaba, but I don't think they ever directly said to her 'you have to do what we say or we will do x.' They are both much more underhanded and also I think not saying that is arguably more effective since it leaves it up to Glinda's imagination.

Glinda clearly understands that she needs to stay in their good graces for the sake of her own reputation and safety. Basically all of thank goodness shows this, with her shushing Fiyero, covering for him when he leaves and adding 'and fiance' when the crowd are listing who they consider 'good'. Glinda is going out of her way to ensure both she and Fiyero are perceived as 'good' and aligned with the Wizard in the public eye. But I don't think she does this because they will directly hurt her if she doesn't. It's more that she is very aware of how influential they are over public opinion and how important public opinion is in Oz (see all of popular).

Basically, I don't think Glinda likes or trusts the Wizard or Morrible, but she does believe that her role as 'Glinda the Good' does accomplish some good for the people and I don't believe she is under any direct threat.

i have to say that it's been very interesting and endearing seeing this new wave of gelphie/glinda fans that have come up from the movie. tho i'm not sure i necessarily agree with this new popular take i've seen going around that glinda is basically the wizard's prisoner after defying gravity. like i love glinda, but she's very morally gray in the musical (maybe in the book too, but it's been a while since i've read it). i'm curious what you're thoughts are on this interpretation.

Oh, it's clear I'm on the outskirts bc i don't remember seeing this take. :')

Regardless, if it's like an idea people like to explore in their fics or art or even just in their mind, that's totally valid. I'm not going to police people's takes they like to explore (and neither should anyone else tbh). That's what fandom is all about, after all!

If it's used to explain canon, then I honestly need more information than your distilled ask tbh? Like, in a very literal sense, Glinda is not the Wizard's prisoner. She could leave if she wants to, making her not a prisoner.

But that doesn't mean Glinda isn't very much trapped and stuck in this idea of being "Glinda the Good". In that sense she is - metaphorically speaking - very much a prisoner in her own prison, which happens to be located in the Wizard's prison.

From the musical's Thank Goodness we know that "all her dreams came true". She's popular, she has her fiancee. She fully believes in this Societal Ideal™ that has been projected onto people, and pursuits it without question.

until she finally gets it and slowly realizes... she's fucking miserable. Of course she is! It's Glinda's tragic flaw that she is so calculating in how to move on the board, that she misses the opportunity to follow her actual heart's desires.

In that sense, I think it's more (canon) accurate that Glinda will always willingly walk into a prison of her own making. Because at least then she knows what to expect. And in a way, that brings safety and control. Even if it comes at the cost of being miserable.

She only steps out of her prison when she realizes Morrible was behind Nessa's death, and tries to salvage what can be salvagable. But by that point, the pieces on the board have already moved too far out of her reach. Her window of opportunity to follow her own heart (and be with Elphie) is gone. And the only logical move, is to walk back into her own prison.

The Wizard doesn't need to keep Glinda as his prisoner. He knows she'll do it herself.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[kopivie]

trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

[updownlately]

i'm the definition of 'wreck' (if you look into my soul)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 2.4k | inspo: time by nf / everywhere by niall horan | a/n: i tried to write angst, no idea how that went but here's what i got. technically since no names were named you can imagine any player from the arsenal wfc as 'her' but i wrote this with leah in mind bc well im a lw6 simp

~~~

It's been like this for weeks. This push and pull. The little things that work just a little harder each time to knock you over the edge. To be honest you don’t know how much of it you can take. And what’s worse is you know you’ve got nobody but yourself to blame. 

It’s when she’s leaving your shared bed early in the mornings, long before either of you need to be up. It’s the way she’d retire to bed later than she probably should, long after you’ve headed up, risking less sleep just to avoid contact. 

It shouldn’t be like this. Love shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn't be missed date nights, keys grabbed after every fight, doors slammed, sometimes more nights a week spent at hotels than your own bed.  Yet, it’s all you’ve ever known and the only thing you carry in your heart. This sad, broken, pathetic attempt at love is really all you have to offer.

In all honesty, you were shit at this relationship thing, though no one could blame you. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and yet you’ve begged and prayed that it would. And yeah you technically have control over your actions and should better yourself, but you’ve tried and failed over and over again. You’ve tried to improve, work on yourself, create a better version of you, but in the end, when everything’s burning and there’s napalm in the air and rubble all around you, all you’ll ever know is to grab your weapon, fire, and run. 

It’s left you alone, failed relationship after failed relationship. You swear you’ve tried. Tried to work on communicating, on breathing deep breaths before your anger builds up, on talking about your fucking feelings. Regardless, it’s never enough for yourself. You run, you hide, you lock yourself away until there’s nothing to find.

So when weeks and months pass and you see her each day with the light finally returning to her eyes you can’t help but be glad that she got rid of you. 

And when you feel so broken seeing her and her family after a game won at your home pitch, you quietly gather the shattered pieces of your heart and make your way toward the locker rooms with nobody but yourself to blame.

It's only as you pass the friends and family section that you can pick out her mother’s voice and your name being said in conversation, with a follow up question on how you’re doing, something you really don’t deserve after how you’ve treated her.

You’re very much aware that no matter how many times you fix your damaged heart and dull all the sharp edges, that you’ll still end up hurting those around you. So you speed up ever so slightly, shielding your already broken heart, cradling the pieces that had fallen ever so gently as they break further in your hands, careful not to cut anybody along the way. You swear you drop some pieces in your hurry, but with your rush you tell yourself you’d come back later to grab them (spoiler: you never do).

~

You end up showering and changing before anyone else has even made it back inside. Making a pit stop to confirm your departure and the following days’ schedules with your manager and coach, you check the time and head to your car.

It's late afternoon and while that helps expand your options for lunch, it also means you have one too many hours left in the day to survive before you can let yourself head to bed. Contemplating on how to spend the rest of your day, it’s your tiredness that makes the final decision. 

You grab a quick lunch, choosing to not head home and instead to the gym for a workout. It may not be one of your wiser decisions to have an extensive training session today, but with the free time on your hand and the voices in your head, there’s really no better option. 

Meeting up with your trainer, which by the way bless his heart for booking you at the last minute, you gather your gloves and handwrap and head towards the equipment. It’s as you run through your normal warm-up that you reflect on how pathetic your life’s become. 

For the past three months, you’ve damn near ceased to exist. Yeah your body’s still here, you’re waking up in the mornings, attending practices, playing in games, all the good stuff really, but you know you’re not there. A feeling you’re all too familiar with. The lack of care of what happens to your body, the way your slide tackles and play gets just a tad bit more dangerous each game, the way you keep training, choosing to ignore the idea of a recovery period, the way your car’s more comforting to you than the apartment you own. You’ve been here before and it wasn’t a good place then and it sure as hell isn’t now, but it's all you know and the only thing that’s never really left, so you’ll cherish it for as long as you can. You know that if anything and everything leaves, as they always seem to do, you’ll still have your companion in the darkness.

The sane part of you realizes how far gone you are, it tries, tries so helplessly hard to pull you back, remind you that you can be okay, but this time? This time you’re sure you’ve given up on trying to remember that. So you’ll do what you know best. Let it consume you. Let it destroy you. Pick you apart piece by piece. Let you slowly forget the feel of a sunny day and a good practice with the team. Rid you of the joy that comes with the pretty sunsets London Colney sometimes has to offer. And this time you’ll let it all happen with open arms, truly, honestly, finally exhausted.

An hour later when your trainer’s calling it a day and forcing you to take a break, you listen, if only to spare yourself a lecture. You grab your stuff, shower, change, and head out. You’ve still got a couple hours left to kill, and with your training bag and boots still in your car, it’s not a difficult decision of where to go. 

Opening your car door and entering, you can feel the day catch up to you, your body readily sinking into the driver's seat, almost protesting against your mind. You know you’ll be feeling these workouts tomorrow, but your mind’s not done racing yet. 

Lacing your boots a short while later, back at the training grounds, you grab your spare ball and warm-up once again, going through the motions. With how many hours you’ve spent at the grounds alone, you’ve developed a pretty consistent solo training session. It's the peace of being alone, a football at your feet, and a near-perfect grassy pitch at your disposal that your mind slowly begins to slow, finally tiring.

You thought you got lucky, a finally tired mind and the hour changing to one acceptable enough for sleep, but then your phone rings, an all too familiar caller ID flashing the screen.

Eight pm after a match in the afternoon is an odd time for your coach to be calling you and with curiosity getting the best of you, you scramble to answer the phone. Running through the pleasantries, you gently prod the reason for his call. 

The answer you get isn’t what you were expecting really, but then again, it was a miracle it had taken this long for it to be said.

“Your contract’s ending soon. wrapping up the third and headed into the final year. Any thoughts on your future?”

The tone in Jonas’ voice causes your heart to sink. This club had been home to you since you had left your own. Arsenal had accepted you with open arms from the start, being your saving grace when you had thought you were going to be subjected to living a broken life at a place that never felt like home. When they had renewed your initial two year contract into another four, you had been elated for your future. You had never felt more excited to be tied down to a place before. taking a silent deep breath, you push back the memories of that day and swallow your emotions effortlessly.

“Depends. What's my future at Arsenal looking like?”

“You tell me. You of all players know that chemistry in a team is what makes a team run, what makes a team successful.”

His response tells you everything you need to know. You know he wasn’t oblivious to what had happened. How your outgoing personality had slowly stopped being exactly that. The way that you had pulled away from your teammates, treating them like nothing more than colleagues rather than friends, treating your job as what it simply was, your job. But you never expected him to have let it impact your presence on the team. You knew what you were worth and what you brought to the table. You weren’t a goal scoring machine, or defensive unit, a tough protective wall. You were you. You played all your minutes like they were the last you’d ever play, heart left of the pitch (not that there was much left of it anyway). You were content with setting your teammates up, leading the league in assists. You were a decent tackler, winning more than two thirds of your face-offs on the regular. You knew your worth on the team, and your agent reminded you of it often enough too, mentioning the potential offers you could have from other clubs regardless of how many times you’d told him you didn’t plan to leave.

“Our on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. My on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. We’re still a unit on the field Jonas and you know it. You know I have the utmost respect for you and this club, don’t let me think any differently.”

“A handful of clubs have reached out. Their offers are tempting to say the least.”

As much as it hurt you to say the next few words, you knew that taking any other stance would leave you stuck, broken for the umpteenth time. “I trust you to make the best decision for the club. At the end of the day, I wish nothing but the best for Arsenal.” 

The ‘with or without me’ goes unsaid but from the few years that you’ve worked with him, you knew for a fact that he had heard the unspoken words. As Jonas lets you know that while a decision had to be made, there wasn’t an immediate rush, you know for a fact that you’ll likely not be calling London home again. And when you both agree to reconnect a week from now, you’ve already accepted your fate. 

It’s an unusually silent drive home for you. The brief break you had earlier from your mind is long gone as you make a mental note to get in touch with your agent first thing tomorrow morning.

~

The post goes up after your last match of the season. While Arsenal had qualified for the Champions League once again, the team had gotten knocked out in the semis for the tournament, ending their season a few days early. It’s between the break of club football and world cup prep that your departure is announced, with no real destination said. If you hadn’t known that London wasn’t home for you anymore, the lack of a response besides an occasional story about the post from a few of your teammates solidified it. 

It's when Bayern upload their new signing post with you holding up your new jersey that the final nail in the coffin is hammered in. The way your move suddenly becomes real. The comments being said online. Speculation on why Arsenal decided to let you go despite your importance to their success. Why Bayern was who you chose. Why there was no lengthy farewell. The people were digging for any crumbs, any notions on why you may have left, but it was only you and your teammates that really knew, and you all chose to keep mum. 

It’s with the acceptance that you’re leaving do you feel absolutely unwanted and lost. And while you’d felt lost in your life before, it had never been like this. Feeling lost was when you were younger and couldn’t find your mother while at the toy store and when you had gotten your first failing mark in school. Feeling lost was when you were asked to leave your childhood home after coming out, no idea where to go. It was when you still got night terrors from the fights that your parents used to have even when you thought you had healed. But being lost had never felt like this. It had never reminded you that you had lost the only good in your life. That the only family you had ever loved didn’t want you anymore. That you hurt all those around you, people you promised to protect and love. That you had a gaping hole in your chest from a gun that you had fired. 

So as the weeks pass and the world cup comes and goes and you notice yourself slipping just a little more each day, you let it play out. You don’t know what your breaking point is but at this point you just don’t care enough to not find out, especially since you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.

When you leave your bed early in the mornings, long before you need to be up just because sleep wasn’t coming to you and retire to bed later than you should just to avoid having to lay in a bed alone, you blame yourself. When you come home to an empty apartment in a new city, the loneliness amplified by the darkness you choose to adorn your apartment with, you have no one to turn to but yourself. And when you interact with your new teammates solely for work in fear of hurting them too, you remind yourself that you’re broken, only able to spread your misery rather than feel joy.

It never was supposed to be like this. Existing wasn’t supposed to be like this. But now it’s all you know and all you have. So when you wish you yourself could leave your body and soul behind, it wasn't hard to understand why she left you.

At the end of the day, when everything's done and gone, you at your core were a mess you didn't know how to control, a wreck of a soul, barely alive.

[maxs-deactivated]

Old vinyls.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader.

Summary: Joel's feelings bloomed even before the outbreak. 20 years, a lot of losses and survival later, he finally finds one of his missing pieces. A Joel Miller one shot.

A/N: bro I have NO IDEA of when I actually wrote this, I just remember it taking me a few days to finish, and I never posted it bc I tought it was bad, but now I reread this and OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS WONDERFUL?! Hope you guys like it as much as I did :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, soft Joel, drinking, swearing, lil bit of angst, happy ending, this thing is long af, it's been a long while since I watched the show/saw anything about the game so it might be a little out of character or just "off" in general, there's not really any mentions of gender for reader so here you go my fellow non binaries :D

Anyways, let's get to the fic.

You knew Joel.

Before the outbreak he was a single father, a very caring and loving one. Being his neighbor meant seeing him every now and then, being that type of colleague you see once in a while and say hi.

At least for the other neighbors.

You, in the other hand, was much more close than that.

To start with the fact that Tommy was your best friend, you two met at high school and became inseparable, so naturally you would know his brother, Joel, and his niece, Sarah. You always lived there, nearby, so it was normal for you to hang out with both brothers whenever you could and even take care of Sarah when Joel would come home late from work. You knew her since she was born and, hell, she was almost part of your family too.

Not that you would admit it out loud though. But you really cared for her, and for her father.

As you grew closer to Tommy, you grew inevitably closer to Joel as well. Since you met him you knew he was a cool guy, respectful but yet playful, not like the guys you met before that only talked about hooking up and making out, no, Joel was gentle and friendly and, when you know him, talkative. It always drew your attention how he looked after Tommy and, later on, Sarah. it was endearing to see.

When Sarah was 12, you moved in the house right next to Joel's, wich was the number one reason you became so close to him.

Oftenly you picked Sarah from school and had her sleep in your house because Joel would come home late, always recieving an apologizing look and a shy smile the morning after when he would come to take her home and, oh! How you loved that smile.

To "pay his debt" (as he liked to say) he'd take you out to some bar or a restaurant whenever Sarah went on a sleepover at a friend's house, and you two always ended up sitting on the corner just sipping on your drinks and talking about life, giving each other advice, sharing life experiences, and above all having a good time. He'd also not drink any alcohol just to drive you home safe, and refuse to listen to any of your protests.

One night you were at a restaurant, on the other side of the city, talking like always and Joel laughed at something you said, genuinely laughed. And that was when you realized you had fell in love with the man, you were always giving him those looks and scarlet cheeks without even noticing, until this night came and changed everything, you were now aware of every little glance, casual touch, any smile and laugh he gives you, you were drunk i this feeling.

But Joel? Oh, he already knew that for so long.

The moment for him was when you came to lunch with him and Sarah at his house, something around a year before. You helped him cook the meal, wich made him notice how much better that dish tasted with your touch to it whether it being just your presence or the ingredients you put, he wasn't quite sure yet.

After you all ate, you sat on the couch and Sarah suggested to put on some music, and right after that start looking through Joel's vinil collection. Let's say she knew what she was doing, first she put on some rock, Gun's and Roses, just in the ambience as you both talked and she washed the dishes. After that she found the vinil Joel had bought only and exclusively because you recommended from a band you really like, you say it reminds you of home, as your father used to play those songs all the time.

He watched as your eyes went wide with a look of excitement when realization washed over you, the melody forcing you to your feet and pulling Sarah. You rocked back and forth, dancing with the teenage girl, as you sang with the most wonderful voice you ever had.

The sparkle in your eyes mixed with Sarah's laughs and the vibe of the song made him realize how much of a wonderful person you are. Always kind to other and wiling to go out of your way to help someone, your charming personality and your unique style, oh! How much he loved that.

Joel not only saw your gorgeous features but also you, the real you. That is scared of thunders, that loves music, that cooks like a chef and have those little quirks and mannerisms he picked up unconsciously, all of that drove him out of his mind and he loved the feeling of loving you, it made him feel alive. Of course seeing how much Sarah likes you too and the way you're so caring towards her just makes it clear: you're the one for him.

Joel's drunk into it since that day. Every time you wave at him from your yard, every time he takes you to these restaurants and bars, when he sees you in his passanger seat, and the fact you just grow more and more admirable to him... It only makes him want you even more, it makes him want to be the one to treat you right after seeing so many partners destroy you. He'd glue pice by piece if needed.

Talking of bars... In one of those times you two went out, you decided to leave the bar you were at and go back to Joel's place. The food at the bar was absurdly expensive and your stomachs were grumbling way too loud for you to just spend the rest of the night there.

Once you got to his house, he made two sandwiches for the both of you and you ate slowly, never losing the topic you were talking about. When you two finished, Joel went to wash the dishes and once again you decided to put on some music.

Looking through his vinils you saw one you also had, a very very old one, dated in the 40's/50's. It started to spin and a few songs into it, it started playing one you really liked: 'Cheek to Cheek - Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong'. By that time Joel had already finished, he walked into the living room still wiping his hands with a towel when you started swaying around to the calm yet enthusiastic beat.

Moving your hips, you felt the melody entering your body and giving you the best feeling of peace. For Joel you looked ethereal in such form, unworried and calm.

A tought crossed his mind and he acted on it before the opportunity scaped. Joel approached you behind your back as you still had your eyes shut closed, feeling yourself through the song, he then placed his right hang on your waist testing the waters. First he had to know if you were okay with that, little did he know you were melting inside, unable to come up with something to do or say in that moment, so you just kept going, like nothing was happening.

As you didn't show any sign of discomfort or didn't flinch from his touch, he placed the left hand on the assigned place on your waist like it was supposed to be there for so long. Now becoming more comfortable, he swayed with you and came even closer, with that your hands automatically went to his, guiding them lower to your hips.

It felt like a dream for the both of you, and of course you wouldn't ruin it with any obvious comment, so you just accepted each other's presences and enjoyed it.

By the middle of the song you kept your hands in his as you turned to face him, still dancing lightly.

Joel looked into your beautifully colored irises and saw the contentment, making him bloom a smile of his own. As you also stared at his honey eyes you placed your arms on both sides of his head, lightly and gently wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck.

Ever so slowly you approached each other unconsciously, ending up doing exactly what the music says, dancing cheek to cheek.

In a few moments you pulled back, just to look at him in the eyes again, now you saw the desire and all the unspoken words and your eyes dropped to his mouth, slightly open and awaiting for what comes next. Yet you decided to speak up before things got confusing.

"I, uhm..." You start, looking down "I really like you Joel, and I don't mean just as a friend or in a way to get this situation to increase... I really do like you, and I have for a time now" now you look into his eyes again.

Joel seems surprised, probably much more because you had the courage to say it first than with the actual statemente, he already suspected your feelings. He opened his mouth a few times, looking for the best words to not fuck this up.

Before starting he let out a relieved breath "when I'm with you I feel alive" he let's out "You make my days a little bit brighter and you bring the colors of love back into my life" Joel laughs "gosh, I'm not even good with words but for you I have practiced this speech for so long... Waiting for the day I would be able to call you mine".

His gaze soft yet eager for you, analyzing every reaction of yours, he's been waiting for so long, poor man. While you're still processing what he just said.

"then do it, I've been your's for so long already" you breath out, coming closer again, but thus time your lips finally touch.

After that, what I can say is that your relationship is solid as rock, you love each other so much and absolutely no one can get into it, you are inseparable.

... Well, at least you thought.

A few days before the outbreak it was your father's birthday and you couldn't just not see him like the past two years, you decided to visit him, perfect timing for disaster.

As the snow falls outside the window of your house in Jackson, you remember it all like it was yesterday...

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" - you ask Joel as you hold onto his jacket. He just returns with a chuckle.

"C'mon! There's still time! You go home, pack your's and Sarah's things and I buy you two tickets, what do you think?" - you try again.

"You know I can't just leave everything behind, love. Sarah has school and I'm about to take that project" - Joel plants a kiss to your temple.

You're disappointed but not surprised, you alredy knew he couldn't come with you, but something within told you to push him and Sarah into that bus with you. Maybe it was just the idea of being three weeks away from your boyfriend, but there was still a bad feeling in you that you can't seem to get rid of.

He locks eyes with you, his honey eyes always seemed the things to calm you down don't matter what happened, and he opened his mouth to say something but the words never came out, you decide to talk then.

"I know love, I just... Have a bad feeling, you know?" - you sigh, looking to the ground then back at him.

"I'll miss you a lot" - you confess.

His gaze softens, with his hands wrapped around your face he leans to a kiss, that is interrupted by an announcement on the speakers, saying your bus was waiting.

Joel gives you one last peck on the lips before pulling you into his embrace. The man is not very good with words, you know that, so this is his way of saying 'I'll miss you too'.

When you pull back, his big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears, sight that make your own set water up. Painfully you break free from his grip, slowly walking away as the tears rolled down both of your cheeks.

...

When you first came to Jackson and you saw Tommy again after 20 years, you had talked to him about... Well, over all everything that happened but mostly what happened to Joel.

But Tommy isn't dumb, he knows who you are even after 20 years apart, he knows if he ever tells you where Joel is you would go flying to him in the same instant, but with all those ridlers and infected around he couldn't handle the idea of letting you go, even more after just reuniting with his biggest friend. He won't risk it.

When you two sat and talked, you asked him if he knew where Joel was, but Tommy shrugged, said in a breath that he just didn't talk to him for a long time and, as Joel is, he probably didn't stay in the same place for too long.

He also tol you about Sarah... With a painful voice he told you how he just watched as he lost his niece and his brother on the same night, because Joel just... Wasn't the same anymore, he changed, he did things (but Tommy never told what things)... Joel isn't the same man you met 20 years ago.

"Well, I didn't expect him to be the same" - that's what you told him, gaining a pitiful gaze from your friend.

Tommy feels pity for you, he thinks you're so lost in the world, and that you need for a purpose so bad, you will chase down any opportunity to go back to that old life of yours. You told him it wasn't about it but of couse he never listened, he just wished for you to wake up to reality, wich in his mind was, that you are now safe, in a place you can live the rest of your life in peace.

But it didn't erase your deep sadness.

It's been five months since you came to Jackson, it haven't been half as bad as you tought it would be, actually people here are neighbourly, everyone helps everyone. Gosh, you like this place. But you can't forget how lonely you feel now.

Of course, there's Tommy and his wife, but now you live alone in this enormous house he got you. Such a huge place and nothing to fill it with if not solitude. But the worst part of it is how seeing Tommy again resurfaced the feelings for Joel you so long burried away, as the only way you found of copig with the fact you would never see him again.

The problem is that now there is hope.

And suddently the urge to know more, to find him, hits you. You can find him, you just need the right clues.

You came back to your house, unlocking the door and shutting it behind you, you saw the map spread over the dining table and for a brief moment the possibility of staying and just... Leaving Joel be, crossed your mind. For a moment it doesn't seem so bad after all... If he didn't come to you before, why would he want you now? The person who took people's lives, who learned how to use a gun on their own, who can't sleep at night with the ghosts of the people they killed... You're not yourself anymore, why would he want you back?

But before you could think further into it, a knock behind you brings you back into reality. Turning the knob again to open it, you saw Tommy, in an euphoric state.

"You need to come with me, right now" - The man says with a wide smile across his face.

You're still clueless - "What happened?".

Before answering he pulled our of the door, dragging you by your arm across the street, right to the construction he was helping with.

You see the horses and recognize some of the people standing with them, but there's one little girl, around 13 or 14 years old, you can't record.

Abruptly Tommy stops to turn to you, with tears on his eyes - "someone heard your prayers, my friend".

He then placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you into the crowd of people, as you got further into it, your eyes catch Maria talking to a man, his salt and pepper hair falling over his eyebrows and then you saw it.

His big brown eyes.

Staring into your own.

Your heart drops and your knees turn weak. How are you even still standing?

"Joel?" - you call his name, but he is still unsure if it's a dream or not.

His heart beats loud on his ears with the realization, you are alive.

Tommy lets go of your shoulder and you waste no time in running to Joel, straight to the safety of his arms, safety you longed during 20 years. But yet he stays froze in place, maybe his mind was tricking him? Could it be an hallucination? He's tired and haven't slept in at least three days, he can't just trust his eyes right away.

But it is not necessary.

You finally get to him and he don't hesitate, his hands reaching for both sides of your face as he examinates it. Your gaze never leaving his as well.

Desperate arms pull you into his embrace. He smells like wet grass and wood, not the expensive cologne he used to wear when going out with you, but it isn't a problem. After all you found him, or better saying, he found you.

Joel tuck his fingers around the back of your neck and under your hair as he wishes to get closer to you, if it's possible. And he cries.

You hear his snifles on your ear and feel his tears leaving a wet spot on you jacket.

Joel's not good with words, you know that, but this is him saying "I missed you". This is him telling you about Sarah, Tess and how he lost himself the night of the outbreak, and it doesn't need one word to make you understand. He lost everything. But for what it seems, he just found everything again.

[missmyloko]

Hi! Lately, I have been very interested in Maiko/ Geiko and Yujō/Oiran/Tayū culture, their differences, but the most popular known books, documentaries have so many lies and discrepancies. I hope you might know some answers.

I don’t know if you read “Autobiography of a geisha” by Masuda Sayo, but she described her life as a hot-springs geisha during W2. While she learned “gei” (art), what happened to her was truly not different from prostitution. She was given different points after sleeping with men depending whether he was her danna, someone else’s danna or just a random guy.

There is this whole thing about American soldiers thinking “geisha” meant “prostitute”, bc some of the prostitutes decided to dress as geisha to attract more customers, I suppose?

Then, what Americans thought wasn’t exactly wrong (if we are not looking at Kyoto or Osaka)? Or was Masuda Sayo just a prostitute and she herself didn’t even know about it?

Are geisha outside of major districts (idk how to call them, Ponchoto, Gion Kobu etc) not considered geisha? Were times just so difficult that geisha had to resolve to prostitution under a banner of love instead of money, so it doesn’t make it illegal? Did Masuda just lie?

Masuda Sayo wrote the book herself in freaking Kanji, I believe her more than what “foreigners”, who only lived in geisha district for a couple of months, managed to understand. And Mineko Iwasaki was a queen among the geisha of completely different time period. I am more curious about how life was for “third rate” geisha.

I guess I am just somewhat confused about the statement that “Geisha are not prostitutes”, while there is an account that poor country girls sold in shitty okiyas were in fact as good as prostitutes.

In specific areas of Japan there used to be "double registered" geisha; that is, they were registered by the government to work as both geisha and as prostitutes. However, there were areas that worked under these double registration rules but didn't have official registration, so pretty much anything went. Sayo Masuda worked in one of those areas. These areas were often in small seaside towns or resort villages, which lead to onsen geisha having a tainted name that endures to this day. What they considered a geisha may as well have been night and day from what was going on in the large cities that had proper geisha associations that actually looked out for their members. This isn't to say that districts like Gion Kobu or Pontocho were perfect as at the time that Masuda was active young girls were still being sold into the karyukai across the country. So, where geisha populations were large and in larger cities they were primarily just geisha who, by government law, could not engage in prostitution. However, in small towns and villages, those who were identifying themselves as geisha also often took part in prostitution on the side as it was sadly a way for them to "serve" their customers. Sayo Masuda also wrote her autobiography in hiragana, not kanji, as she couldn't read or write kanji since she never had a formal education. American GIs brought back stories of "geesha girls" due to women who were not geisha but used one of the only Japanese words that they knew to have sex with for money in order to survive after the war. The Americans had no idea what a real geisha looked like and the karyukai didn't reopen (if they weren't bombed to shreds) until 1947. So, there were two years of regular women calling themselves geisha having sex with GIs that really didn't help with the Western perspective of geisha. By the time that Mineko Iwasaki came along, which was decades after Masuda was active and the Americans had mostly pulled out of Japan, prostitution had been made illegal across the country, so no double registered geisha existed anymore and no geisha anywhere were supposed to be having sex on the side for money (sex on the side is fine as long as it's consensual between two adults and no money is being exchanged though). Since geisha are incredibly exclusive for the most part, it's far cheaper and easier to hire a call girl or a hostess if someone wants to have illegal sex in Japan (it would be naïve to say that it doesn't happen even though it's illegal). So, were there different "levels" of geisha when Sayo Masuda was active? Of course. Was she lying? I don't believe so. Her story is extremely compelling and detailed to the point where it would be hard to be made up. Were the lines blurred on what was a "geisha" prior to World War II? Depending on where you were, yes. Has the karyukai changed drastically since that time? Very much so. Is there still work to be done when it comes to how geisha are perceived both inside and outside of Japan? Indeed, there's quite a great deal. But, we all have to start somewhere and I hope that this has helped to answer your questions ^^

[ennard-is-near]

As promised, my thoughts on The Week Before!

(Spoiler free first, spoilers under the cut. Also long post warning)

It was objectively not a good book. Most fun I’ve ever had reading anything, though.

I’m going to start calling him “Ralph Scott” as his full name. At first I hated the name Ralph but it actually grew on me over time. I think Scott is a valid last name and he doesn’t have one in canon so it’s Scott now. I might just call him Phone Guy sometimes though.

If I had to pick one FNaF song to represent this book it would be Stay Calm, absolutely no question. Do with this what you will.

I really enjoy his relationship with the restaurant and animatronics. It’s pretty realistic imo, he always seemed like he was pretty fond of the brand and had loved it and worked there for a long time.

Coppelia is so y/n coded I don’t know how else to explain this. She feels like a self-insert or fan child. Like the way they describe her outfit reminded me of good ol’ Wattpad fic. This is not good or bad, simply a statement. I actually liked her.

Game continuity stuff:

At first it sort of struck me as odd that Ralph says this is his “first week on the night shift” because in FNaF 2 he mentions that he is going to take the shift after Jeremy. But then he mentions that the restaurant closed down after the Bite of ‘87 so it actually sort of makes sense. It took me a minute to figure that out, though.

As I mentioned before, they are mean to Jeremy? This is genuinely hilarious to me. Like at one point Phone Guy mentioned that staff kept saying “You can’t spell team without meat” right after the Bite and his takeaway is just “that’s not very nice but at least they paid attention at orientation.” The first time he brings it up he asks what Jeremy did to provoke the animatronic (my friend said “what was he wearing?” And I think that’s hilarious). He says that the press blew the whole thing way out of proportion but he says that following “he doesn’t talk anymore. Or do much else” so idk man. Ralph just seems more annoyed than anything, like he’s mad it got the restaurant closed down. He does sort of care a little bit, I guess. It depends on what sentence you’re reading.

(My friend also said that it’s sort of the thing you have to joke about, like if that happened at your work you’d have to be an idiot about it [especially bc it was probably over 5 years ago] and while I completely agree, I feel like he’s mean to Jeremy personally a couple times and that’s not very nice. He was just doing his job, man. This is so funny to me genuinely. I will never stop thinking about it)

There were a couple Bite of ‘83 mentions, which I was not expecting, but was very exciting to me. Ralph going up on stage and thinking about why people aren’t allowed up there…he called 1983 on the phone and it was just screaming and Bite of ‘83 audio (and it was different from the games?) which was wild.

I loved that he said they used to call the Bite of ‘83 “The Big Bite” until ‘87 happened. And he likens it to how they used to call WW1 “The Great War” until WW2. Incredible comparison.

Something that I don’t remember Ralph bringing up directly is the MCI. There’s obviously references to it, but I don’t recall him ever going “wow remember when those kids went missing?” Like he does with The Bites. Not a huge deal but definitely a small thing I noticed.

It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. The way they wrote the it’s me thing actually sent me to hell and back. Some interesting implications as to what that could mean if it’s happening to Ralph too. I think the way it was described the “it’s me” echo like, taking up his whole mind and actually hurting is so fascinating to me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.

He refers to himself as “Phone Guy” at one point, or at least says that that’s what other employees call him because he records the training tapes and welcome messages. I actually liked that, it was late at night when I read it but my sleep deprived brain thought it was a cool nod to the fandom.

He also records the messages for Michael (/the next employee) in the books, which is so fun. They used the word-for-word transcript from the games which I also thought was really cool. I’ve always been a fan of those opening phone calls, his FNaF 1 stuff makes you really get attached to the guy and then he fucking dies which is always deviating. Putting them in exactly like the games was a good call.

Also also his night four message recording was really well written actually. It might have been my favorite part of the whole book. Him talking to Coppelia in a non-canon death was really sweet too

They mentioned Susie being Chica and Jeremy being Bonnie by name. I like this. Ralph saying Susie just by vibes was fine, but I kinda want to know how Bronwen knew that Jeremy is Bonnie? Like I know she’s done a lot of research but how does she know which specific kid is which specific animatronic? That seems like a hard thing to figure out, even if you know everything about the case. Eh, whatever.

They kept just… listing the animatronics? Like the book will go “Look out for Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.” Over and over again. Like yeah, I got it.

Phone Guy

They made him a boy failure. And a lame dad. Absolutely perfect. He says the same stupid fucking joke every time even though nobody’s around. He practices making stupid jokes and puns so he can tell them to his daughter later.

He loves his daughter so much, also. Like all he thinks about her all the time and he checks on her immediately when he gets home. He wants work at her school? He keeps telling her never ever to go to Freddy’s. In the non-canon death where he calls her and he says, “I love you. Don’t come looking for me.” Aughhggg.

A couple of his deaths were genuinely so funny. The one where he’s just mixing shit in the closet and the door gets jammed? That wasn’t even an animatronic that’s just basic workplace safety. The one where he’s being killed (by Chica I think?) and his blood is going all over the floor and he goes “I just cleaned that!” Hey man, there are more important things happening. The one where he puts the cupcake up to his face and it like…eats him? Why did he do that?

There are also a couple non-death endings that are great. The one where he just accidentally gets locked in a room is pretty good. He can get sued by Fazbear which is really funny. Coppelia can get eaten by The Cupcake which is iconic.

Foxy is his favorite. We find this out when he’s being killed by Foxy and he goes “But you were my favorite!” Foxy is also Michael’s favorite. Also nobody asked but he would have been mine if I was a kid at Freddy’s.

I like when he walks in to a room covered in blood and goes “It must have been an animal!” You and I both know it wasn’t, why did he say that? Also he throws about the blood.

Other characters

Coppelia is so good. She’s so middle-schooler and I mean that in a good way. She’s well written in a “that’s what twelve-year-olds are like” way. During the ending where he calls her and says he loves her and she goes “I know, Dad” like she’s rolling her eyes. Okay go off Coppelia. But also she clearly loves her dad she’s just a preteen. I don’t like that Phone Guy calls her Pel, though. That’s stupid.

I don’t like Bronwen. She’s underdeveloped and as she stands in the book just completely unnecessary. She’s a cool character in theory, a reporter who’s obsessed with the mystery at Freddy’s, but she probably couldn’t work in a book like this. I feel like her only purpose was to give Ralph a quest, phone and dead body to find. He probably could have gotten those things on his own, and it actually would have been better for his character I think. She feels like a self-insert character from someone who won a “get your own character featured in a book” contest. She’s not hugely important or prevalent in the plot, to the point where she could be cut and it would probably make the story better. But as her own character, in a book where she was a main or very prominent side character, she could be very interesting. She’s just not here.

WILLIAM AFTON?? Okay, well, maybe. Probably. He’s only in there a couple times, as “Dave” the maintenance guy who knows everything about the animatronics and is annoyed that you called him at 4am. Definitely William Afton, which is very cool and interesting that he’s still around and slaying at the time of FNaF 1. Idk if I’m going to include that in my personal brain timeline but whatever, still good info to have.

Williams presence does raise a question that has always bugged me, how do people not recognize him? Like I get that maybe it’s like Clark Kent where you’re not looking for William Afton so you won’t recognize him, but I feel like this is a little different. Because Dave Miller isn’t some unassuming maintenance worker while William Afton is some huge famous, supervillain or something. Dave Miller is a guy who knows everything about the animatronics and William Afton is the guy who made the animatronics. And they look the same? He’s not even bothering with glasses or anything. And Phone Guy has to have seen William a few times because he’s implied to be higher up (at least a manager or something) at the company in 1987 so he has to have seen William a few times. And Ralph’s gone bowling with “Dave” before, so why was he never like “Huh I wonder if this is William Afton considering they look the same and have the same job and nobody has seen Afton in a long time.” He’s so Sweeney Todd core.

There’s a brief mention of a character named Mrs. Anderson who has a dead daughter, and to me that daughter is Susie. (Not Cassidy bc I have a different family for Cassidy that I can’t get into rn but trust me.) But that’s so sad actually, that she is basically Coppelia’s babysitter bc she misses her own daughter. I feel like something that FNaF could benefit from is more little character insights like this. Just getting a brief “Mrs. Anderson” and seeing how she’s handling her kid dying. This could not be Susie’s mom, and I’m just seeing connections where there aren’t any, but I think she probably is meant to be.

Okay I’m done

I really liked this book guys. It was worth sneaking a copy of into my house. I had so much fun with it, even if I just read it back-to-front like a normal book instead of “playing” it. (Idk why they kept pretending it was a video game, it’s clearly a book, but whatever.) there were a few very fun details that I really loved and it was a good addition to the canon of the series. I won’t incorporate everything into the lore I made up in my head, but I will definitely take some of it. I really enjoyed it, I really did.

[seiwas]

sel i don’t know what’s been in the air lately but i cannot stop thinking about iwa!!! the way he’d get flustered the first time you call him haji <333 he’s so in love with you, he smiles even if you call him haji accidentally when you’re mad at him!!! also buying cute pilates or gym sets and modelling them for him in your bedroom he just LOVES watching you <33 but it’s a little annoying cause u can’t trust his options cause he just says you look gorgeous in all of them <333 also the first time you wore a blue set he’d liked in particular to the gym you have to suck him off in the car cause he underestimated how much of an effect you’d have on him

oh my god. i was awwing the entire half of this until i got to the end was like whoAH WHOAH WHOAH. so true tho nonie. he can't drive w a raging boner, that'd just be too dangerous! also, buying cute pilates/gym sets gets him so rock hard i cannot EVEN. i love that idea nonie

truly... the enlightenment is in the air that’s what it is 😌🥺 we are finally being enlighjime-d, iwaitened. he also absolutely does get flustered when you first call him haji 🥺 i have a lil thing… i wrote abt that… actually… it's part of my hajime series (which is privated rn bc i'm rewriting it!! my writing style has changed a bit since i first wrote it) but!! i'll put it up here for our enjoyment 🥹🥹 and maximum feels (unfortunately, it is entirely innocent and no sucking off in the car but it is still so very dear to me! 🥺)

When Iwaizumi takes up Sports Science in California, you stay behind and complete your degree in Japan. The time difference sucks; just as he starts his day, you’re ending yours. Still, you make an effort to talk within the window of hours you’re able to. 

At 1:03 a.m., you are cozied up on your bed, night light casting a soft glow onto your tired eyes. You yawn, squinting at your phone while waiting for a familiar face to pop up on screen. A few minutes pass, and it vibrates, the picture you took of Iwaizumi that summer after high school on display. 

You swipe your screen to find bright light streaking through the lens of Iwaizumi’s camera, obscuring your vision of him.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, before the view turns to black. Random blobs and shapes move around and you suspect that he’s probably wiping the lens while moving to a place with shade. “Sorry, just walking to campus right now.”

You wait patiently. 

Soon enough, you are faced with a clearer visual of Iwaizumi, his spiky hair now shaped into a semi-crew cut—olive green eyes giving off the same stare you know can only belong to him. He doesn’t look much different from the photo assigned to him on your phone, but he doesn’t look the same either. The fact that you notice these changes means that time has passed, and you’re reminded that this is the Iwaizumi you no longer have—the Hajime you could have had. 

“Hey,” he greets, sending you a grin. A few beats and recognition flashes through his face as he notices that you’re all tucked in bed, ready to sleep. “Shit, did I wake you?” 

You laugh and shake your head, mushing your cheek against your pillow, “No, it’s okay,” you snuggle up to your duvet, “was waiting for your call anyway.” you readjust your phone and place both hands under your cheek, “You rushing to class today?” 

“Not really.” he answers, looking up from the screen, presumably to cross a road. “First period canceled, so I’m heading to the gym for a bit. How ‘bout you?” 

“Well,” a playful glint sparks in your eyes, “not rushing to class, no. Not going to the gym, either. Not in this outfit, I think.” you smile, suppressing a laugh. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but you can see traces of a smirk gracing his lips. 

Since going to America, Iwaizumi has gone through a few changes: his confidence, his humor, and his temperament—all of which have gotten better. He’s a lot more relaxed now than he used to be, joking around and going along with your jokes every now and then. But underneath all these improvements, he retains the same qualities that make him the Iwaizumi you know (and love). 

“Ha. ha. Funny.” he responds sarcastically. 

A twinge pinches at your heart, and you think, God, this banter, it hurts. This is the soft spot you know he holds for you. You’re brought back to the same nastiest look he’d given you when you wrote the most horrible puns on Aoba Johsai banners during matches. 

“I meant, how ‘bout you, you aren’t rushing to class tomorrow? Actually–” the video moves around and you catch a glimpse of him tapping his smart watch, a familiar black bracelet on his other wrist, “—shouldn’t you be asleep?” When he returns to the screen, worry lodges through his furrowed brows, a small pout forming on his face. You want so badly to be there to wipe it off. 

“It’s fine. You called, so.” you say softly, gently, leaving room for your admittance to ring louder. You know he understands because he’s done the same. 

“Well,” he copies you, “I don’t want to keep you up. Sleep’s really important, you know.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, “Okay,” disappointment poorly hidden in your tone. 

But he knows, he always does. “Call me when you’re free later, I’ll pick up. We can catch up then.” 

You smile and nod. A yawn escapes you, eyes slowly drifting shut. “Good morning, Haji.” you mumble.

He freezes.

He wouldn’t have heard it if not for his earphones (thank god he had them). It’s the first time you’ve ever called him Haji. Heat rises from the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears, down again to the expanse of his cheeks. The familiar thump sounds loudly in his ears. 

“‘Night,” he responds, whispering your name before ending the call.

It takes him a while before he continues to walk towards the gym; his heart is pounding too hard and too loudly for him to focus on where to go. All that replays in his mind is the sound of you saying Haji, softly, tenderly—the way you encase the syllables of his name in comfort that feels like it belongs to your lips.

Haji.

He wonders if you meant to call him that.

[adultswim2021]

Xavier: Renegade Angel #13: “Free Range Manibalism” | March 13, 2009 - 12:15AM | S02E05

I’m sorry, but this one is simply too crazy. Xavier finds a restaurant that very snobbishly turns their noses up at his offer of meat. The meat in question is splattered stuff from roads. He is accused of being a bathroom user, and truly, he is. So, they throw him out and he encounters two bums, whom he convinces to pose as pigs so he can offer them to the restaurant. The restaurant’s whole deal is that they pamper their livestock until they pass away from natural causes. Then, and only then, are they turned into a nice meal.

From there it goes off into a direction that I’m not even that sure I can adequately summarize. So, I won’t. Like, no, really, the episode was great, and I laughed at it a bunch, but I genuinely felt like I missed a key word or something that would have explained, sorta, what was going on. 

The honest truth is, sometimes I just don’t want to write about Xavier. That’s because the show is just one incredible joke after the next, and I tend not to enjoy write-ups where all I do is list jokes I like. Here’s some I wrote down, to shut you up: Xavier’s belabored pun of “Heil-er Meatler”. The part where he distracts the sporting goods store (to steal footballs from, so he can sew up new pigskin for the hobos) by getting them to chant “sports” over and over. “Spreading like a mother’s legs on free peanut butter day”. There’s like, way more insane wordplay in this episode than most others, I think. 

This is a wild one, and I probably should have watched it twice before covering it here. Oh well! Merry Christmas, everyone!

MAIL BAG

I definitely took a couple days off so I could use the above screenshot on Christmas Day, and no other reason. Time to shine a spotlight on the man of the hour, Mr. Ho-Ho-Ho himself, Santa Claus:

I don’t think you’re nuts! By the time Delocated season 1 started airing, 30 Rock already had appearances from faces familiar to Late Night w Conan fans, like Brian Stack, Brian McCann, Andy Richter, ofc Jack McBrayer, Conan. i wondered too if they hoped to get those Conan fans who gave 30 Rock a chance bc of those cameos. Good theory!

Hey, thanks for that. 30 Rock was definitely a movement, and it's something we could all get behind.

hey man i dunno who told you that SH*T about robot chciken being canceled but creator-whos-not-seth-green just said in a interview two weeks back that its still going so get your hopes down

The funniest case scenario is that Seth Green is too mad about his monkies that he refuses to do the show, and they try to continue without him. He was probably running around the writers room doing nut taps and throwing Nickelodeon Gak on people so they couldn't write funny sketches ever. Maybe this made-up thing that I'm making up right now is just what the show needs.

Tommy Wiseau is an absolute nut job. Mike Lazzo was playing with matches letting that guy in the adult swim ecosystem. Wish he got burned, boyo.

True that!!! Tommy Wiseau is not "WISE" at all... he is a menace

If Santa could put on piece of Adult Swim swag in your holiday stocking this year what would you want it to be?

A new Space Ghost Volume 5 DVD. The second disc on my copy stopped working. I can't even sell it on eBay anymore! WAAAH! Also, the actual plastic case it came in got extremely brittle and it caved in when I tried to open it last time. It's just all the way fucked. I have a digital backup of it, at least. But, I prefer tactile sensations, and the crackle of the vinyl record.

Santa has just left my house. He left 10 presents and ate all four cookies we left him. I was telling my dog who sleeps in my room how great a deal that was. 10 presents for four cookies? My dog didn't seem to care but enjoyed all the attention he was getting. Welp, back to bed.

I'm glad Santa came. I have a question about dog ownership for you: do you have a dog door and do you ever go through it for fun? I feel like if I had a dog and a dog door I would be going in and out of that thing constantly.

If you got bit by the Santa Claus bug, what would you do? Merry Christmas from LA

Hey, thanks, cool to hear about the move. If I was bit by the Santa bug, I would be in heaven, and I hope that answers all of the Christmas Day questions for AdultSwim.Com (my blog).

[edna-skiffens]

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

[wri0thesley]

ahem here is a self indulgent domestic nanami x reader fanfiction that i also posted on ao3. u can tell i wrote it bc i looked at nanami and said ‘that’s a man that wears sock garters and that’s very sexy of him’

routine // 3k words // nanami x reader warnings: afab reader, fem pronoun, domestic stuff, nsfw, fingering, creampie, idk pals i’m just thirsty

You don’t mind the mundane.

No, that’s not quite it. It’s not that you don’t mind the mundane – you do, when it becomes sticky and muddled and drags on and on and on. You’ve been trapped in an endless cycle like that before; allowing life to happen to you, as trade-off for simplicity. Planning things that didn’t materialise. You hadn’t realised that’s what you were doing, at the time – but looking back on it now, it’s clear as day, because it was exactly what had been happening to him.

Your life is not mundane. Your life is . . . routine.

Yes, that’s right. You stick to a schedule. You keep time. You plan things – and it’s not mundane, not any more, because this time as you stick to your routine, Nanami is right there beside you.

It’s domestic. Comfortable. Oh, you worry about him – he comes home enough times with scrapes and bruises he didn’t have before and tells you about his day, world-weary – but you also know he’s more than strong enough to withstand. You curl up next to him whilst he reads a book, or whilst you watch television. You cook for him on the few days off that he snatches for himself (though he often wraps himself around you whilst you do cook, directing you or helping. He’s a better cook than you, but you have more time than him). You drape yourself over the back of his armchair sometimes and work on the knots in his neck.

“You get too stressed,” you tell him. His lips quirk into a brief curve of a smile before they return to their usual position.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you help me with that.”

For all of the unusual things in your lives, your existence is uncomplicated. You watch weight roll off of him when he comes in through the front door and is once more safely ensconced in a little slice of home. You and he share the household duties; he’s meticulous and careful, and you admire him sometimes when you think he’s not watching for being so . . . balanced, you suppose.

(“That’s you, too,” he tells you. He shrugs. “Everyone else . . . they’re living absolute chaos. But I get to come back after I clock off, to you, and . . . this.” He gestures to the little home. It’s nothing special. It’s neat and tidy and small and the two of you have reasonable savings in the bank. Responsible. You think he keeps you balanced, too.)

But . . .

Well. He’s not always so in-control.

He hadn’t sounded harried when he’d called you. He doesn’t often; instead, his voice had been calm. You know Nanami well enough to know when there’s frustration bubbling under the surface, but his tone had been smooth.

“I’ll be home late,” he’d said. “Don’t wait up.”

“Overtime?” You’d asked, already looking at the pot boiling on the stove and wondering if it could be salvaged for tomorrow’s dinner. Nanami had paused, and then sighed.

“Mm.”

You don’t let yourself worry too much. Nanami handles whatever is thrown at him – he’s always in control, poised. . . The most you see him frustrated is from calls from Gojo in the middle of the night.

You put your own phone away. There’s no use in concern yet, you tell yourself.

You don’t start to worry until you crawl into bed without having heard from him. This is late, even for him. You try not to let your anxiety eat away at you as you close your eyes and lay your head on the pillow, but the scent of him permeates every part of your bedroom. One of his shirts hangs loosely on the back of the wardrobe door. The drawer on his side of the bed that contains a collection of novelty ties (bought by you, because you’d thought they were funny – and Nanami had smiled at the first one, and laughed at the second, so you just hadn’t stopped) is still half-open from him rifling through it this morning.

The click of a key in the front door makes you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards, a familiar, steady cadence, makes you let go of sheets you hadn’t realised you were clutching.

Nanami’s head rounds the door.

“You’re late,” you tell him.

“I am,” he affirms. He steps into the room proper and you see that his shirt-sleeves are rolled up, and there’s a splash of blood on his left shoulder. He probably was in more bother than he let on, then. You don’t think it’s his blood, at least. He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

You sag. You know it’s part and parcel of what he does – and so, you move in the bed from where you’ve unconsciously pressed yourself into his side to breathe in the familiar scent of him. You know Nanami doesn’t miss you’ve done it – he comes to sit on the edge of the bed as he meticulously undoes his tie.

He reaches over to you and cups your cheek in his hand, his fingers warm and calloused.

“How about I make it up to you?” He asks, and you sigh as he breaches the gap and kisses you. Everything about his kiss is familiar and comforting – you’re pressing back against him before you even think about it, hand coming to tangle in the neatly combed hair. He tastes like coffee, and it makes your eyes open against the kiss and check the time. It’s late. Nanami generally prefers to be sleeping by now. You'd once laughed and told him he was boring, and he'd raised his eyebrows and smiled as he'd told you that sleep was important. After spending the night wrapped around him, your head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart - you'd been inclined to agree.

“Aren’t you tired?” You murmur, breaking the kiss yourself. Nanami quirks an eyebrow at you. The hand still on your face brushes across your cheekbone tenderly. You don’t think anyone who works with Nanami imagines him like this – messy-haired, half-undressed, his stoic composure gone to softness. Every time he even half-smiles, your heart feels like it will ricochet out of his rib-cage, but when he looks at you now you get the full thing.

“Too tired for you? Never.” He shifts on the bed, shrugging off his suspenders along with the stained shirt. He’ll do that laundry himself – he always does, when it’s bloodstains. “Besides,” he breathes as his hands move to stroke over your shoulders, his breath tickling the junction where your neck and collarbone meet and making you shiver. “I still have plenty of energy to work off before I can get to sleep peacefully.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get a fulfilling night’s rest—”

The bed covers are swept off of you. When Nanami has made up his mind to do something, he does it – and right now, it appears what he’s made up his mind to do is you. His hands are big on your hips, sliding up the loose shirt of your pyjamas. You let out a soft huff of breath as he pushes them up over your breasts that makes him lean in and kiss your neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh. Your fingers flex on his shoulders as he cages you underneath him.

“Oh,” he promises against the skin. “When we’re done, I’ll rest very easy.”

You lose the shirt just as quickly as Nanami lost his, and then you both stop talking. Nanami is the kind of man who doesn’t use a hundred words when one or two will do – he’s happy to have conversations, when conversation is the name of the game . . . but conversation is not the name of the game when his mouth is busy kissing your neck, your throat, your collarbone . . . When his lips are wrapping around your nipple and teasing it to a hardened point until you moan aloud.

In the pit of your stomach is heat and fire and need. When Nanami moves against you and your thighs press together, you can already feel that you’re slick and warm with the promise of what is still to come – and when Nanami, too, moves, you can tell that he’s looking forward to things just as much as you are.

His thumbs hook into the shorts of the nightwear set you were wearing. The fear of less than an hour ago seems to have dissipated in the wind – it’s hard to remember how worried you were when Nanami comes home fired up like this. He drags the fabric down your thighs, tsk-ing at how they catch.

“A nightgown or shirt would be more efficient,” he tells you. “You’re welcome to one of mine.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts, and Nanami doesn’t miss how your skin warms underneath him. You’re so cute. He kisses you again so he doesn’t embarrass himself, this time peeling off your underwear (the thin cotton clings to your damp sex and your breath hitches at how it feels, peeling away).

“Are you going to tell me it’d be more efficient if I weren’t wearing them?” You say, your voice coming out low and husky.

“I’d be right if I did,” he tells you, but he’s far more preoccupied with the button and zip of his trousers. You reach over to help him with it, your hand brushing the hot, hard length of him through the fabric – you always forget just how big he is until you’re confronted once more. Your body gives a low throb of arousal, a reminder that the need inside of you requires sating sooner rather than later.

Nanami is patient. You are not.

There. The zip, the button – and Nanami is pulling off the fabric, leaving it too in a pool by the side of the bed that you know he will probably manage to get into the wash basket before it ever crosses your mind. He’s still wearing socks and sock garters, and whilst normally you’d laugh at him and make him take them off before he got into bed . . .

Well. There are more important things to think about right now, and you can’t deny that the sock garters are endearing.

His cock brushes against your thigh and you start, a soft noise escaping your lips that makes him look down at you tenderly. He tips his head to the side in a silent question and you nod in a silent answer – his fingers push your thighs further apart, sinking into plush flesh, stroking along the slick outer lips of your sex--

His knuckle brushes the swollen bundle of nerves of your clit and you sigh, your hips bucking up for more of the friction. You know that this is just him being kind – a precursor to the main event – but you still can’t help but greedily seek out more and more of him. He clicks his tongue again.

“You’re so impatient sometimes,” he chides, though his cock hard and hot against your skin is just as impatient as you are. He slides one of his fingers inside you, your walls clinging tight to the digit. He pumps it in and out of you, once, twice – and then, a second finger is inside you, stretching you out. One of your hands twists into the sheets as you helplessly let him fuck into you with his fingers. You know that he’s doing it in preparation for fucking you – he often does – but it doesn’t mean that you’re any less impatient for the main event.

“You’re teasing me,” you tell him, breathlessly. He smiles, more to himself than to you.

“I suppose so,” he replies. He’s enjoying it. You know he is – tension is draining from his shoulders the more he looks at you, the fingers still plunging in and out of you growing more lax and liquid in their movements. The sound of him inside you is lasciviously loud in your bedroom. You don’t mind helping him work out his tension – whether with cuddling up to him, or cooking together, or massaging the knots from his back – but you do mind when he teases you--

“Please,” you say, breathlessly, your hips rocking in time with his hand. He can never resist it when you’re polite.

His fingers come out of you with an audible slick noise.

“You’re ready, anyway,” he murmurs. He absent-mindedly places the two fingers that were buried inside you against his tongue, tasting you – your cheeks are hot again at the way he tips his head back, savouring the taste of you. Just another little moment of intimacy. It’s not unusual, but that doesn’t make it feel any less erotic.

He cradles you like you’re something precious as he settles heavy between your thighs. His hands on your hips are certain. There’s a warmth about Nanami that few people are privileged enough to see – one you’re privileged enough to see every night and every morning, when he wakes up next to you sleep-tousled or comes in and leaves a warm package from your favourite bakery in front of you that he picked up on his way home.

You breath through the initial sting as he stretches you out on him, and then there is nothing but the pleasure of being filled. You feel yourself mould to his cock inside you, your walls snugly accepting him, hot and wet around his shaft. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and as he bottoms out inside of you, for a moment you two are joined entirely. You can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I love you,” you breathe, against the shell of his ear. He kisses at your neck in return, his voice very soft as he returns the affirmation of one of his own. He is not one for sappy declarations – he is a man of small acts of service. Still. He speaks it against your skin and it feels like a tattoo on your heart.

“I love you too.”

After that, neither of you speak. Instead, you concentrate on Nanami’s powerful hips as they roll against you, his cock brushing the sensitive spots of your wall, stoking the flame inside of you that’s been steadily burning since the moment he untied his tie. You concentrate on moving your own body in tandem with his, the squeeze of your channel around him, the way that he grinds himself just so against your clit with every thrust so that your body feels fizzing with unreleased promise.

His mouth against your collarbones and neck. Your nails digging into his shoulders. He’s well-built despite seeming nondescript in his suit and tie – you’re heart-achingly familiar with the taut muscle making up his arms and backs. The places he’s scarred, even after being healed up.

You can hear him breathing heavier and heavier against your ear as his peak nears. Your own is rushing up on you, as Nanami’s hips begin to rock quicker and quicker, his cock plunging impossibly deep into you with every drive. You think, for a wild moment, he’s going to come first, despite the fact he’s always been nothing but the gentleman in control of himself no matter how many times the two of you become one--

And then, the hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach becomes overwhelming and bursts into pieces, wet heat soaking you, waves of pleasure lapping at you as your body shakes and constricts around him. Everything is so hot. His body above yours is burning, warm, needful--

Your nails have dug into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks, but Nanami is chasing his own release now, his eyes clouded with lust as he looks down at you. Aftershocks of your own orgasm make your channel pulsate around him--

You’re tender as you pull him down by the neck and kiss him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip – and he groans into your mouth at the same time as you feel his cock inside you twitch, and the heat of his come fill you. That’s not a problem. You’ve talked about that plenty of times – both of you agree that you’re happy the way you are. Children are dangerous.

. . . But it’s nice to feel claimed by him. Nice to have him rest hot and heavy inside you, like a marker of his affection even as he’s pulling out of you and leaving you full and heavy and sticky. He smooths kisses onto your brow. He doesn’t murmur sweet words against you, but you know he’s thinking them if only from the way he holds you and the way that his hands dance over your skin like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

(You are; and he is to you, though neither of you say it aloud. In the sanctity of the quiet bedroom, though, both of you know it as an absolute fact.)

He’s breathing heavy as he sits on the edge of the bed again, reaching down to undo his sock garters and remove the socks themselves. The tell-tale rustle of clothing and slam of the drawers on his side of the bed tell you he’s neatly folding the dirtied garments and getting out something to wear in bed himself.

“Are you tired now?” You ask him. Nanami turns his head to look at you, and you can see the tell-tale sign of shadows under his eyes.

“Yes,” he says. You laugh, and the sound seems like pealing bells to him. You wrap an arm about his waist and pull him against the bedsheets, curling a leg over his, wrapping yourself around him in an embrace that he at first resists before leaning into.

“It’s easier if you don’t get dressed.” You mumble against his neck, as you nestle yourself into the crook of his shoulders. Nanami uses one arm to pull up the bed covers he stripped from you earlier. “More . . .” You stifle your own yawn. “More efficient, if we decide to waste time in the morning.”

The covers wrap around both of you, the wrinkled clothes forgotten (Nanami will tut at himself in the morning, but for now, he’s enjoying your body so close to his).

“Time with you,” he says softly, “is never wasted time.”

[batlingsstuff]

|| DREAM SMP HEADCANONS ||

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

hello! this is my first time doing headcanons, and i just want to clarify some things:

sadly, i won't be doing requests because i'm busy af with school and i dont want to dissapoint anyone, but you can drop some suggestions and i would think about it! it would be really nice :)

also i won't be writing romantic headcanons for minors or those who are uncomfortable with it, but i can do platonic headcanons for them! ^^

i won't be doing nsfw headcanons either, because i'm uncomfy with sexualizing real people and just writing nsfw in general :)

also, please tell me if someone is uncomfortable with fanfics and/or headcanons and i will erase that part as fast as possible, thanks for passing by! - batling

✦ means platonic

✦ characters : ranboo, tubbo, tommy, philza, techno and jschlatt

♥ means romantic

♥ characters: quackity, wilbur, nihachu, dream, george, sapnap, eret, karl, fundy and bbh

keywords:

(y/n) : your name

(n/n) : nickname

(p/p) : pizza place

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” – John Green

┌────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┐

SLEEPOVERS

---

GENDER NEUTRAL

└────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┘

♥ Quackity

oh boy

i just have two words for this one: pure chaos

he will punch you with a pillow if you try to sleep

and you will be MAD at this

grabbing a pillow and hitting him RIGHT IN THE FACE with all your strenght

he'll probably fake cry about it, saying that you hurt him

after a while of pillow fighting, you guys got tired and plopped into the bed, snuggling into eachother and just enyoing the comfortable silence before drifting to sleep

♥ Wilbur

you two will probably blast hamilton and scream the lyrics till the neighbours wake up and you get angry knocks at your door

and you will laugh at that, lowering the speaker's volume and telling him to lower his voice aswell to avoid your neighbours calling the police

then you'll eat snacks and talk about anything that pops into your mind, laughing at the most silly jokes

he will sing sweet songs to you, making you fall asleep to his calming voice

summary: fluff

♥ Nihachu

you and her will bake pastries at a very late hour

she REALLY enjoys baking with you bc she thinks it's a great way to spend time with you

all this girl wants is to spend her time by your side, doing particularlly anything like streaming, baking, playing games and going outside for a walk and/or shopping

once you finished baking, she will kiss your cheek multiple times. that's her way to tell you that you did a great job :)

you'll spend the rest of the night cuddling, eating your pastries and watching some random movie, commenting about how bad it is and laughing

♥ Dream

bruh

this bitch will speedrun the sleepover

is it possible to speedrun a sleepover? maybe

you'll spend the rest of the night probably playing uncharted 3: drake's deception in his old ps3

after a while, you guys got bored from uncharted and went to his pc to play amnesia: the dark descent

there are 2 options:

you will be scared as fuck and will avoid looking at the screen when you think something bad will happen or when some body will come out from a drawer

or you will be totally chill with it, laughing hard when clay pisses his pants for real when he encounters the gatherer

you named the gatherer 'bob' :)

♥ George

he'll take you to the rooftop

and pushes you so you fall to your death

i mean

he gets blankets and pillows so you can stargaze together

he'll teach you the constelations while pointing them, excited about every single one of them

"look (y/n), that's the ursa major!"

he'll have hot chocolate prepared too, so you don't get cold while stargazing

you try your best to not fall asleep on the rooftop

but eventually fail

when he notices you're asleep, he stops talking about the constellations and carries you to your bedroom, giving you a goodnight kiss and leaving you in your bed so you can have a peaceful rest

♥ Sapnap

hey mamas

i don't know what sapnap will do in a sleepover so i will just improvise B)

you will watch anime together

not any kind of anime, like that romance-comedy bullcrap

no fuck that

you will watch the classy angsty anime like madoka magica

WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

you will fucking cry because of literally anything that happens to the characters

"(y/n) why are you crying it's just a show"

'IT'S NOT ANY SHOW SAPNAP IT'S FUCKING MADOKA MAGICA OF COURSE I'M GOING TO CRY'

the last chapter made you fucking cry harder

AUTHOR HERE I WAS CRYING SO MUCH WHEN IT ENDED

yeah you will basically watch anime with him, cry about it and he will comfort you and bring you a glass of water so you don't have a terrible headache after it

I KNOW THIS HEADCANON SUCKED I'M SO SORRY

♥ Eret

KINGG <3

you two will plan a picnic in your yard

yes your yard

he'll bring a ton of snacks and you'll buy a few drinks

you two spend the rest of the picnic talking about your future and enjoying the snacks

then, he'll make you stand up and will teach you how to dance tango

and of course you will mess everything up

and you even stomped on his feet accidentally, making him wimper

but he brushed off the pain and laughed at your concerned face

after calming down his laughter, he gave you a passionate kiss and hugged you tightly

i love eret ok

♥ Karl Jacobs

this man.

this man is the definition of sweet

you'll spend the night cuddling and making cute pet names for eachother

he will definetely give you a great back massage if you're stressed

then he'll start writing love letters full of things he adore of you

and you'll do the same for him

after that, you will share your letters and just snuggle and smile at the sweet things you guys wrote for eachother

he will deffo shower you with kisses when he finishes reading your letter, telling you that you're the nicest person on earth

and that he loves you so so much

♥ Fundy

i'm a huge fundy simp ok

he will bring his piano to your house and you guys will compose a melody together

he will let you sit on his lap while you play the piano/keyboard with him

fundy will basically teach you how to play basic piano songs

you asked him if you guys could play megalovania together

he said no :(

but still you got to play nice songs together without messing up

and when you got the hang of it, he snuggled his face in your neck and kissed you there genly

and when you got tired, he started playing very calming songs and you fell asleep in his lap, snuggling into his chest

he gently carried to your room and will sleep beside you putting a fair distance so you can have a comfortable sleep!

♥ BadBoyHalo

bbh supremacy

he will get rat ready so you can snuggle with her too :)

you guys will mainly play with rat and talk about life in general

he will call you tons of cute pet names

ofc he will call you muffin it's bbh who we're talking about

he will talk about how bad he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

after a while, he will take you to his kitchen and start making muffins together

he will guide you on how to bake 'em though

you guys had a great time making muffins and cuddling with him and rat :)

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

✦ Ranboo

tall mf gives the best piggy back rides

when he gets to your house there is a 100% chance he will bump his head on the door frame

and there is a 100% chance you will make fun of him because of that

"(y/n) please stop laughing my head hurts :("

you'll give him some ice to put on his head while you two play minecraft on your ps4

you will bring snacks too and ask him if his head is better

"yeah, thank you (n/n)"

he will pull you in a hug so you can be comfy together while you play good ol' minecraft

because ranboo surely doesn't play anything besides fucking minecraft

stfu that video of him playing spooky's jump scare mansion doesn't exist

✦ Tubbo

SWEET BE BOYY <3

he will gift you a bee plushie

expect a lot of (FRIENDLY) hugs from him

like fundy, you guys will play piano together

you guys are most likely to prank call some random numbers AND your friends

and you accidentally called some random pizza place

"hello! this is (p/p), may i take your order?"

you were nervous and didn't know what to say

UNTIL YOU CAME UP WITH A GREAT IDEA

"hello? are you there?"

'hi yes, i would like to order 7 extra large pepperoni pizzas to (tommy's adress).'

"oh- okay! uhm- they will arrive in a few hours. are you okay with that?"

'yes ma'am, thank you.'

when you ended the call, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, knowing that tommy will be so mad at you guys-

✦ Tommy

like quackity, PURE. CHAOS.

you guys will obviously stream your sleepover

doing a q&a stream :)

tubbo and wilbur will probably crash your stream and start spamming things like 'MEETUP??' and 'DIDN'T GET AN INVITE'

you guys laughed and added them to the call

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU GUYS INVITE ME?" wilbur shouted

'i'm sorry willlll'

you kept playing minecraft with wilbur, tubbo and quackity too since he crashed your stream like an hour later

after the stream, you got up and plopped on the mattress that was on the floor

"tired?"

'yeah'

"okay, good night big (initial)"

✦ Philza

POG

YEAHHH SLEEPOVER WITH THE MINECRAFT GOD

AND KRISTIN'S THERE TOO :)))

and oh god you ADORE kristin

i'm pretty sure she's a total sweetheart

it would be like having a sleepover with your parents

only that it's less boring

you guys will watch a movie together, you will be in one side of the couch eating snacks while phil and kristin are in the other cuddling

you'll eventually bug them about it

after the movie, you fell asleep early and philza noticed, talking to kristin about it too

and wrapped a blanket around you so that you get a good rest :)

✦ Technoblade

mr. blood god teaches you the arts of the CRAFT.

yeah i mean it's techno what else does he play besides minecraft

he will play bedwars w/ u, teaching you how to pvp

"bro you kinda suck tbh"

'stfu techno'

he will comment about how bad you are, but tries to help you get better anyways

and when you do a very poggers gamer move, he praises you

and when he praises you you're all :)))

after awhile, he gets tired from watching you play minecraft and suggest watching anime

fucking weeb

i mean

uh

other thing you guys do together in a sleepover is playing and commenting about pokemon

if you don't like pokemon get tf out of here /J

i was joking please don't leave i respect your tastes

✦ Jschlatt

ooooh boy

get ready for a session of wii training

that's all you guys will do

play wii sports and some other shit like wii music

he will laugh his ass of if you fall while playing wii fit

but he will eventually help you bc outside his funny and shouty persona, he's a really chill guy and a really nice person!

seriously like have you ever seen a theweeklyslap video?

well expect hearing amazing pep talks from him

bc this man is a legend and knows his way to words and is very good at comforting people :)

sometimes you'll rant to him about anything that's happening in your life, and he will listen to you and give you really helpful advice

and you appreciate him so much for that

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TYSM FOR READING GUYS, i appreciate it if you made it this far :)

i hope you guys really enjoyed these headcanons, it's my first time doing them and aa i'm a bit nervous about posting this but i'll be fine ig

also i'm sorry if there's a grammatical error, english is not my native language and i'm still learning it :) have a nice day/night, drink water and don't fuck up your sleeping schedule!!

[lunaslovelyrambles]

It's canon that Levi is very self conscious about his handwriting since he came from Underground. BUT it's also canon that his handwriting is neat. So how about Levi writing his crush a letter but then decides not to give the letter last minute but too late! His crush saw the letter in his hand and they basically have a tug of war over the letter 💀 I hope this is okay. Thank you ❤️

of course it’s okay!! sorry for the long ass wait.. but thank you for sending this in! it’s such a cute request :)

went w a scenario bc i’m rusty with them! as always feedback + reblogs are appreciated :3

——

levi ackerman

He was screwed, wasn’t he? Yeah, he was totally, and wholeheartedly screwed. The second he felt the wavering in his heart and fluttering in his stomach he knew he was screwed.

Because Levi Ackerman - Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - has a crush.

Levi wasn’t one to focus too heavily on his emotions. Oftentimes he’d dismiss any unusual feelings without any second thought. He didn’t have time for that: any sappy, mushy feelings. He was a soldier first and foremost. That was his duty, and that was his priority above all. He should focus on the fight for humanity and that solely.

So why, why was he so hellbent on getting your attention?

Because he liked you, that’s why. But he didn’t want to admit it. He could die at any second and so could you. Like hell he’d want to form a relationship under those conditions.

Still, pushing his feelings toward you aside didn’t help in the slightest. Every day as he watched you laugh with some of the other cadets he felt his hand clench around his cup. He wanted to sit by your side, hear your beautiful laughs and be with you goddamnit.

Why was this so hard? Why was liking someone romantically so hard?

These thoughts permeated his mind as he stared at his paperwork. His pen had been sitting on the table for quite a while now as he thought, once again, about you. He had long forgotten about what he needed to get done for the night and was purely lost in his thoughts.

Should he tell you? No- what if you rejected him? He’d be crushed and not only that but things would be awkward then.. but what if you said yes? Then he could finally get this off his chest and-

He groaned heavily as he laid his head on his desk, causing some of the papers to crinkle underneath. He couldn’t stop the thoughts from growing louder and louder in his mind. They were all too loud and distracting for him to do anything.

But he couldn’t just go and confess! That wasn’t the kind of person he was! He wasn’t the type to just do something like that.. To him, it was way too embarrassing.

As he laid with his head on his desk an idea suddenly entered his mind. One that would save him some embarrassment while also conveying his feelings perfectly. Well, less embarrassing than directly confessing that is.

A letter.

He could write you a letter. The perfect way to confess his feelings. He could write exactly what he wanted and completely avoid the awkwardness of him telling you. It was only an added plus thay writing a letter was seen as sweet and romantic to most people.

Levi finally picked up his pen and started writing on a new, clean sheet of paper.

-x-

It had been several days since he initially came up with the idea to write you a letter and Levi still hadn’t written one that he liked.

Several balled up sheets of paper could be found stacked in his garbage can, and even more burned in the fireplace.

For some reason he just couldn’t get the wording right. Every time he wrote it it just didn’t seem... right. It didn’t feel good enough, it was too blunt, it was too wordy. Every draft he was just unhappy with. And he kept trying only to be continuously dissatisfied.

He sighed as he set his pen down another time. He looked at the singular sheet of paper and began to reread it.

“Dear (Y/N),

I just wanted to say that - ”

“Whatcha got there?”

Levi nearly fell out of his seat. Standing in the doorway was none other than you. And you were very curious to know what he was holding. For a split second he thought about balling it up and chucking it at you, but his body reacted quicker and shoved it into his desk drawer.

“Why didn’t you knock? Didn’t you learn any manners?” he quickly retorted, but he was still caught off guard by your entry thus causing his words to come out quicker than he would have liked.

You rose an eyebrow and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“I did. Several times actually,” you responded, “What was that paper you shoved into your drawer?”

He swallowed thickly. It would be hard for him to maneuver his way out of this one.

“Why are you here? Do you have something to report?”

“...no. But you haven’t really been out of your office all day. Now answer my question.” As you spoke you inched closer to his desk before standing on the side - the one closest to the drawer with the paper in it.

He didn’t answer. Shit. You were not gonna let this go.

He half expected you to keep harassing him with questions until he either forced you out or gave in. But you chose a third option, which was one he wasn’t expecting.

Which was shoving yourself between him in the drawer, effectively blocking him as you grabbed the letter out. Luckily for him, he regained some sort of mind to fight with you for the paper as it left the drawer.

You tugged on one end and he grabbed the other, neither of you showing any sign of letting go. He really started to begin to regret training you to be so strong.

As he gave one harsh tug, and you doing the same, the letter finally ripped in half from the tension. He had the top half and you had the bottom.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you always go through other people’s stuff without permission?” he looked down at the paper and back up at you. Naturally he was angry with you for taking out the letter without asking, but when he looked up at you his anger slowly dissipated.

Your mouth was slightly parted and your cheeks were slowly heating up as you finished the letter. Your eyes then flickered from the letter up to him. You turned around the letter to face him and pointed at the words on the bottom.

“I really like you, (Y/N), and I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

“Is this... for me?” you softly asked. His mouth formed a thin line as he avoided your gaze, his cheeks now dusted with a faint pink. There was no way he could say no, it wasn’t for you, because your name was literally on the note.

He was beyond embarrassed. He was mortified. His feelings were out in the open now and there was no going back.

Just as he was about to leave the room to avoid the uncomfortable sting of rejection, he heard you giggle. The noise made him glare back at you, and it was that that made you full on laugh.

Now he really felt humiliated.

“I just can’t believe that you fought me tug of war style for this,” your laughing died down a little, “Did you convince yourself that hard that I’d reject you?”

Levi didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I mean.. kind of, yeah,” he still spoke softly, still not looking at you.

“You’d be wrong, then.”

He finally stopped looking at the floor and back at you. You were smiling at him, a big toothy smile and one that he loved seeing every day.

“I thought that letter was, like, you kicking me off your squad. So I thought ‘hey I’ll bite the bullet and take it out even if he’ll hate me for it’ or something I don’t know. I’m sorry for going through your stuff-”

Before you could finish your apology Levi had uncharacteristically pulled you into his chest. He had felt like someone crushed a building on him when you stole that letter out but now? He feels like he just got the best night sleep.

“Don’t. Don’t even worry about it. I’m.. glad you took it. It’s okay,” he smiled into your shoulder as you returned the hug.

Maybe he’ll write you letters more often.

——

masterlist || rules page

[hermannsthumb]

possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

----

Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

[graysongraysoff]

I know I'm VERY late but for the writing ask: 🥺💖✨💔🤩🎉

fanfic writer emoji asks

🎵 it’s not too late, it’s never too late 🎵

🥺 is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

i mean, i am a devoted disciple of the cathartic cry. when a character has been holding it in and holding it in and holding it in and then they finally burst into sobs? it’s the kind of scene i have written so many times that i am genuinely running out of words to use in them but like. bathe me in that shit.

i feel like though something i don’t talk about as much bc i’m always so busy marketing myself as an angst-monger but which is nonetheless also something i fully adore is like. characters being sleepy??? sneepy little babies??? like, for some reason the example that’s coming to mind is this fic i wrote about jaskier falling asleep on geralt, like. when character a can’t keep their eyes open anymore and character b is all Tender about it???? i’m Soft?????

i think the reason i love writing nightmare scenes so much, actually, is because i can dump all this shit into them at once: we can have character a have a cathartic cry, we can have the Intricate Ritual™ of character b holding character a through said cathartic cry, and when it’s all over we can have character a, exhausted with emotion, go back to sleep, with character b sticking with them to keep the nightmares at bay??? the Intricate Ritual™ of platonic bed-sharing/cuddling????? that’s the fucking shit right there, that’s what i’m slappin on.

💖 what made you start writing?

answered!

✨ give you and your writing a compliment. go on now. you know you deserve it.

i always compliment my dialogue/narrative voice for these things (which, for the record, my dialogue and narrative voice skills are fire) so let’s see if i can think of something else i do good…

i feel like i’m getting better at, like, parallels and bookends and “mirror moments??” i’m getting better at tying the end of a piece to its beginning, getting better at alluding to the connections i’m trying to draw between characters without, i hope, being too, like, obvious or trite about it. :)

💔 is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

i could be alone here, but i feel like it’s kind of hard/atypical for me to break my own heart with my own writing?? i usually write fic in response to something else breaking my heart, you know? it’s kind of my way of getting it out of my system. and then i spend so much time making sure the angst hits just right that it doesn’t really hit me the same way it hopefully hits readers, if that makes sense.

i mean, unless i’m just thinking way too hard about it and this is supposed to be more like a “when i got the idea for x fic it hurt me right in the heart” kind of sentiment. in which case the idea for this bungo stray dogs fic literally kept me awake in a fugue state deep into the night bc the idea of it sent me into such anguish i couldn’t sleep until i had committed it to writing.

🤩 who is your favorite character to write?

honestly it’s probably always going to be dick grayson, my proto-Boy. i feel like i know him as well as i know myself, which makes sense since he’s been one of my favorite characters pretty much since i can remember, and writing him always feels really easy and natural. he’s very unique in that i can pretty much always snap right back to him no matter what i’m hyperfixating on at the moment. i’m neck-deep in jujutsu kaisen-land right now, but i could still whip you up a dg ficlet in 15 minutes, no sweat.

🎉 what leads you to consider a fic a success?

i feel like there are two different kinds of fic success for me. one is the very superficial ao3 success, which is when something i post gets what i consider to be “a lot” of kudos and it gives me the “i am going to win at fanfiction, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve” serotonin. i wish i were, but I Am Not Immune To Kudos.

the more personal kind of success is when i can read back over a fic, no matter if it’s a week or a month or a year out from posting it, and not find anything i don’t like or want to change about it. one of my favorite and, in my mind, most successful fics has three (3) kudos on ao3, lol, but i love it and think i did a good job on it and wouldn’t change a word of it.

[oppabimbab]

hottest apology | kim taehyung

genre: smut, slight fluff

starring: taehyung x reader

synopsis: you made him mad so you gave him the hottest apology ever.

words: 2,730 words

tags: jealousy, submissive reader, insecurity, daddy!kinks, handjob, bl*w!job, boob!fuck, fingering, slight dom taehyung, cl*t tease,

side notes: it’s been 3 months since i wrote, holy shit sorry if it’s bad, i have lost my writing skills lol and also its taehyung ff again bc im always obsessed with him bye.

**

It’s been 5 days since Taehyung have talked to you. Exactly 5 days since both of you got into a pretty serious and heated argument. 5 days is quite long for someone like him to be this mad. Well, your boyfriend has been that gentle, calm and observant person that he always be the one who breaks the silence first but it’s different now.

You’re not sure if the thing really triggered him this much to the point it’s making him to do something he never did before—leaving the house. All because of one thing he seems to hate the most.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. Stop being a kid. He just wanted my help, that’s all?” you frowned at him while holding the tone in your voice. You knew he hate it when you sound annoyed and pissed when talking to him.

Taehyung’s jaw was clenched even more at your words as he leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He probably has been waiting you to come home since forever.

“Really? I didn’t know keeping him company at the coffee shop is one of the ways of ‘helping’ him. What did you guys do?” His deep eyes were piercing into yours and swear to God, it gave butterflies to your system. Let alone his croaky voice that filled the room—making your heart raced for no reason. That was hot. Fuck yeah, not a good time to be horny.

You adjusted your position at the bedroom door—exchanging eye contacts with your boyfriend who seemed to be really mad but it didn’t come to your mind that he is actually being serious. Probably he was just moody that you came back late. You tried to convince yourself.

“He was alone and stressed so I kept him company for a while. Nothing much, baby. He is nothing to me. We did nothing.Seriously,” you spoke, defensively even deep inside, you were tired to death. All you wanted was to sleep and For God’s sake, your quick coffee sessions with Seonghwa was random. He just happened to be in the same shop with you. Why did Taehyung think you want to let him get into your panties? Exaggerating.

“Did you even tell me before you met him?”

“No? Because it’s unplanned?”

Just as you thought Taehyung would let this topic go, he looked even madder. His gaze was flamed in fire, his body was tensed and stiffed just like the prominent veins along his neck. He has this habit where he would roll up the shirt sleeves and ruffle his hair when he is mad. Silence filled the room as both of you didn’t say anything.

“I thought I said I hate him. I hate to see you with him. I just don’t want to see you with him. isn’t that clear to you?,” his voice was too low and it made him sound very dominant. Fuck, something was twirling in your stomach.

You jaw was dropped.

“Taehyung! He’s just fr-“

“Who cares? You’re mine. Fucking mine and I don’t like sharing. I never fucking do. I thought you knew that huh?” he stared at you with his flaming eyes and raised eyebrows while chewing his mouth. If stare could stab people, you could die by now. Your mouth felt dry as you’ve lost words to say. Taehyung has never been this mad before.

You supressed a small chuckle to ease the tension.

“Taehyung, are you jealous?”

But what a wrong move. He left the house.

Now, he is giving you the coldest treatment ever. He don’t kiss you, call you pet names, make love to you like he always did or even look at you more than 10 seconds. You thought he would only act up like this for few days but now, it almost been a week. And as ego as you’re, you don’t even start to make up even deep inside, you pretty much understand why he did this.

Taehyung has always been such a protective boyfriend. He made it clear he dislikes Seonghwa and you already promised him to stay away from the guy. You broke the promise and now you need to face the consequences. Swear to God, these 5 days were killing you inside. You missed him so much.

His kiss, his touch, his morning voice, his jokes but why can’t you face him and say sorry? Is it because it’s always him to fix the relationship first? Is it because it’s always him to come to you and say sorry first?

You don’t realise that until one night. One bloody night when you realised that he is only yours and you hate sharing. Your whole body is filled with jealousy and greed when you are left alone at your table in his stupid company dinner as Taehyung is surrounded by so many people, who probably have been waiting for him.

You know he is popular for his kind personality and looks since he composes music for these popular people but you don’t know he is this popular. A sudden jealousy and insecurity hit you like a truck when you finally realised that you’ve taken him for granted after all these while. He chose you over these people yet you did the thing he hated the most.

He will make sure you know how much he loves you—being that home you always go back to when things got hard, let alone showering you with the honesty and security you deserve in this relationship. Few seconds in, you just figured it out—he never did something that hurts you to the point you wanted to leave the house. But you did that to him. You broke this good guy’s heart.

From afar, he’s definitely look good with someone else other than you and it’s giving you an unfamiliar pain in the chest. This fight is longest and the hardest fight you ever had with him and it hurts you even more when his eyes catch yours in the middle of crowded party

but, he looked away.

**

The house feels dead. It feels gloomy and sad when both of you just got home from the party and he didn’t even want to say anything as he goes to the bedroom. Not even a glance. Fucking hell, it drives you crazy.

By the time you got in the room, he just come out from the toilet—freshly bathed. The sweet scent from the shampoo and soaps fills your sense with his naked body in the sight. There is nothing coming out from your mouth as you notice him looking away from your gaze. He feels distant and cold.

“Baby,” after a while, you speak out.

No answer.

“I’m sorry,”

Taehyung looks unbothered when he keeps drying his wet hair with the small towel with his back facing you. Your heart hurts a lot.

“I’m so sorry, I miss you. Talk to me,” tears start to pool in your eyes when you can’t hold the pain of being ignored by a man whom you loved the most. Did he stop loving you? Did he find someone else?

Few steps are taken before you slowly wrap your arms around his torso from behind—hugging him tight as you bury your face on his back. He is very tall and well-built that he makes you feel safe and sound.

Taehyung doesn’t move or push you away—rather than hugging you back, he just let you do whatever you want to do. Good thing because you know what you want to do.

Slowly, you pull away from him and come to face him. You don’t have the courage to look at him in the eyes, making you to come closer to him before kissing his bare chest. Kissing him gives you such serotonin that nothing can explain. It makes you happy and high to the point you want to have all of him for yourself only. Every inches of him.

His gaze—you can feel it. He is looking down at you but the courage to look at him has gone when you know how greedy you are when it comes to him. But you did him wrong. How do you fix this?

The tension fills the room before you finally make some move by tracing your fingers on his torso—admiring his lines with this familiar knot in your stomach. His wet and naked body sting your lower abdomen—making your panty sticky wet. Fuck, you want him. In you. Now.

“Hm?” a husky hum leaves his mouth right after you push him on the bed. He is clearly confused at your sudden gesture but for some reason, he is anticipating it—which brings you another butterflies. He stares at you while biting his lower lip with a small smile appears in the corner of his lips. This guy is fucking hot.

Ignoring him, you get to your knees in front him as he sits on the edge of the bed—with your face only few inches away from his crotch before you bring your hand on the fold of the towel that has been covering his lower body.

“What are you doing?” he says with a small playful smile across the lips, sounded confused as ever. You look at him with a needy eyes.

“Apologize,” you mumble before looking back down to his crotch. This time, it wasn’t covered anymore. It’s huge, hard, raw and delicious—you can’t help but leaning closer as you take him fully into your mouth. A soft whimper leaves his mouth at the sudden warmth.

With your might, you take his length into your mouth until it completely disappear from the sight while your small hand rubbing around his cock. Your head is bobbing up and down—licking and circling every veins around the cock to the head to taste the salty pre-cum that leaves his tip. You moan-- clenching your pussy at the feels. He’s tasted so good, making you moan. A very needy one. You spread his legs before you place one of your hands on his firm thigh to give it a soft rub. He moans even louder. What a sound.

The knot and dripping juice from your pussy keeps making you crazy to the point you wanna beg at him to fuck you right now. You don’t care anymore. It’s been 5 days.

“Mmmm, ahh,” the erotic moan fills the room along with the wet slurping sound coming from your mouth. Taking a quick glance at him with your half-closed eyes, you find him staring down at you with a clenched jaw. His eyes has darkened in desire and lust, body got tensed up and raspy grunts keep escaping his mouth. The eye contacts—oh God, this is sexy. He is feeling good. It drives you crazy.

You suck him even harder—going up and down even faster as his cock twitches every time you lick it. He lifts his hip to thrust even deeper to your throat, making you gurgle around his cock head. You can feel he’s coming as it hardened in your mouth but before he could cum on your face, you immediately stop—making him groan in frustrations. A small smile escape your lips as you let the wet saliva drips to your neck. What a messy blow job but for some reason, this is making your pussy stings in cum.

Without taking your time, you take off your short dress—unclasp the bra around your breasts before you place his cock between them. The next thing, you find yourself rubbing your boobs around his length as he grabs your hair to make you go faster.

Taehyung grunts even louder, moaning to the air at the pleasure. He closes his eyes while groaning like a tiger.

“Ah! Mmm, Your cock feels nice, baby,” you moan as you quicken the pace.

“Oh Fucckk, yeah, yeah like that,” he moans as he boob-fucking you. His breath has hitched and trembling before you could feel how hardened he has become.

“Baby...Ahh! I’m....,” you moan.

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I miss you,” you say while moaning loud,looking up to his eyes as you pump harder around his huge cock while licking the tip—begging like a needy puppy. Both you and him are humping on each other—probably he is as desperate as you are. Eyes to eyes. Yes, you’re desperate for him. Only him.

“Baby, cum on my face, let me taste you,” you beg before sticking your tongue out—waiting for him to pump his seed all over your face. You know he loves this shit. It’s his favourite kink.

Taehyung grunts, standing up on his feet, pumping his cock for few more times before the white cum plasters all over your face as it keeps coming from the tip. In just few seconds, you swallow the bitter-salty cum greedily, licking every part of them while staring at Taehyung, who is breathing heavily on the bed. He stares at you for few second before running a hand in his messy hair while chuckling playfully.

“Come here,” without letting you calm down, he pulls you closer to him before pinning you down to the bed as he crawls on top of your naked body.

“That was the hottest apology I’ve ever got,” he chuckles while breathing hard as he traces his finger on your torso to your lower abdomen. Soft whimpers leaves your mouth, it makes him chuckle even more.

“Is it accepted yet?” you ask in breathy voice. He frowns while biting down his lower lips.

“I don’t think so. I need more,” he says, holding a smile.

You look at him. He is fucking handsome with those deep eyes, boyish smile. God, you wish he fucks you everyday. He’s look delicious. Especially those lips.

Can’t wait any longer, you take his face in your hands, you pull him for the deepest kiss, sucking his mouth, begging for his touch. He grunts in the kiss—sucking your tongue, biting your lip almost to stain it with blood.

“Fuck me. Fuck me now, Taehyung,” you whimper in the horniest way ever. Whatever he does, he needs to fuck you now.

“I’m still mad at you,” he grunts before he starts rubbing your clit. You yelp in pleasure.

“I don’t care. Fuck me, daddy,”

Taehyung smiles, satisfied. Probably happy that you become this submissive only for him.

“Sure, let’s remind you how good my fingers are inside your damn pussy” he says as he put 2 fingers inside you without warning—making your body jerks in surprise. He starts thrusting his long and thick fingers inside you, twirling and pinching every part of your pussy—making your body bounce every time he fuck your pussy.

A gush of air leaves your lungs as you scream out loud, while you fist in his damp fluffy hair, pulling his face closer to you. Taehyung keeps fingering fuck you while staring down to see how messed up he has made you become. He chuckles and quicken the pace every time you moan his name—telling him to never stop.

“Why? You like it huh?” he hums, rubbing your clit with his thumb while thrusting another 2 finger inside. You see nothing but stars. Moan and moan.

Arched back, rolled eyes, curled toes.

“Ah~~~~Mmm,mmm,” you bite the lower lip to hold the sound. You’re very sure the neighbour know you’re getting fucked tonight.

“I’m coming. Mmm baby, i’m—Ah!”

“Too soon,” Taehyung replies before quicken the pace. The splashing and wet sound from the pussy juice makes his cock hardened as it rubs your inner thigh when he moves. You cry—holding around his arms for support as you’re reaching your climax.

The next second,you cum around his fingers. Your whole body flinches in pleasure, hitched breath fills the space as he pulls his wet fingers out of your pussy and with your own eyes, you saw him licking the juice while staring down at you.

He licks every parts of the fingers without looking away from your exhausted eyes. Your jaw almost dropped when he smiles at you. Holy shit, that is fucking hot. This guy is sickly hot. You don’t understand.

He didn’t stop there.

“Bear yourself, baby. I’m going to fuck you really hard that you know how I fucking despise sharing what’s mine,” Taehyung says as he positions his cock on your entrance while spreading your legs around his waist. Wide, just for him.

What a long night but you’re not complaining. Not at all.

**

Let me know your feedbacks! XOXO