#also if this made no sense tell me to change it

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine this tho:

Logan finding your journal full of things about him

found gif on @darlinggash

The moment you and Logan met the two of you clicked in an unusual way. Immediately getting on each other's nerves but having the same sense of humor. You both got grumpy and violent at times. The two of you started training together and growing as friends. There was no way in your brain that he saw you as anymore and as time passed fate proved you right.

But that didn't mean you didn't have feelings for him. Because you fell in love with Logan pretty quickly. The only reason why you were able to hide it is because you wrote about it. You wrote in detail about your feelings for him, instead of shoving them down or acting like a bumbling idiot. You trusted Logan and you were very comfortable around him. You didn't want that to change because of your feelings for him.

Logan just didn't think you felt the same way he felt that he didn't have a chance with you. That you deserved someone better than him, but he also didn't like to imagine you with anyone but him. Because he never thought he would find love. He didn't think he would find it in you but one day he just looked at you differently. He started noticing how beautiful you were, something he knew from the beginning. But it was starting to get hard to not say anything, to not kiss you. He didn't know if he could be your friend anymore.

Though he couldn't tell if you felt the same way, not until he found your notebook. Walking to your room, bringing his knuckles up to gentle rap against the open door. The door creaking open to reveal your empty room, your music playing from your speaker on your desk. A smile came over Logan's face as he stepped closer, one of Logan's favorite songs flowing through the speakers. Glancing down at the notebook on your desk in an almost bashful way as the apple of his cheeks rose. Then his eyes slightly squinted when seeing his name on the page, before moving in closer.

I feel guilty for the way I feel, I know I'm told to not be, that having feelings for a friend isn't usual. That it didn't mean have to mean anything, because there was no way he could feel the same way. He smelt like leather and tobacco, his musk filling my senses whenever he was around. Or when he touched me, that's when I felt really bad. Because I liked it for more than he knew, I didn't like being touched but I wanted this man to keep his hands on me all day. The idea was comforting, and the thought of his large muscular hands put on your body even if it was just your arm or your shoulder. You'd always lean into his touch, desperate for more. You told yourself you wouldn't get worked up, that you just be friends. But you didn't want to be his friend and it was getting harder to ignore.

Logan felt his stomach flip, swallowing down the lump in his stomach as he read something so private. Something intimate that you wrote about...someone who sounded a whole lot like him. He wasn't sure, but he knew you didn't have alot of other male friends. That he religiously wore his leather jacket even in 90-degree weather and smoked cigars like a chimney. You had sure that it had to be doing some type of damage at the rate he smoked. But talking about how made you wanted this guy to touch you, when you didn't like touch, something you warned him about in the beginning. Logan tried to respect it, but you never moved away like you did with others, you'd visibly flinch away when you didn't like it.

He leant down to keep reading from your notebook;

Last night, we stayed up late together, he'd been drinking but regardless he was still Logan. He frustrated you with because of a random that you blabbed about. Always trying to pick on you and pretend to be agitated, you hoped anyway. You always tried not to blush around him, but last night it just happened. You really hoped he didn't notice. Its why you couldn't look into his eyes, you were getting far too attached for just friends.

It was him. Logan turned the page in the notebook to continue to read.

Spending all this time with him is making me think about him subconsciously. His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours. You didn't know what he looked like down there but you knew what he looked like shirtless. God, you wanted to feel him. You felt so creepy dreaming and writing about this. But it was what happened in your dream, and it didn't help that you were in love with him.

Fuck. He really shouldn't be reading this right now. But before he could read anymore, the door creaked open and you smiled over at him, "Hey, Lo." His eyes went to your tiny little shorts you were wearing, god all of this was driving him insane. Logan couldn't let this slide though, he just had to tease you, wanted to see that blush he'd evidently missed the other night. He blamed the dim lightly, but the sun was shining bright through the window. Your eyes going to his hand that laid on the page of your journal, without him even saying a word a flush bloomed on your cheeks.

"You've been writing about me, mouse." Logan stated, he didn't even have to question it. He also made fun of your voice, when you get worked up your started to squeak a little your voice getting high pitched. His fingers dance along the lines and scribbles on the paper, circling his digit around his name.

"I-I can explain." You mumbled, your hands coming up to feign innocence.

"I think this did all the explaining I need." Logan continued, he dipped his down to read from the book, "I think I need to move on from him, but he was your best friend, and he was perfect. You think I'm perfect?" He teased as you darted towards the journal as he yanked it away from the table before bringing it up over his head. You let out a squeak as you jumped, the sound and action making him laugh at your height difference. You lightly shoved at Logan's buff chest, as he barely moved an inch as you hit at his arm.

"Give it back!" You cried, as you glared into his eyes. The look on your face warmed his heart as he shoved the journal far away from you. "H-how do you know it's about you?" Logan smiled at you, the lines on his face crinkling as he made eye contact with you before looking up at the book.

"The other day Logan stopped me from falling, and my hands gripped his bicep, I could the ridges and veins, god you were just crazy for him."

"Logan." You whined, before flipped the book shut before leaning down to hand it back to you. You snatched it from his grip, bringing it to his chest.

"Wanna know my favorite part, got it memorized, liked it so much." Logan hummed, as he stepped closer to your retreating form. You felt like prey, Logan the predator swirling in you, his eyes were dark and his steps purposeful. "His mossy green eyes worming their way into your dreams, fantas-."

"Logan pleasse stop." You pleaded, your doe eyes looking up at his as you fell back against the door as it shut behind you. Logan's hand coming over your head as he leant into you.

"-fantasizing about your fingers in his hair, his hips thrusting into yours." Logan's voice grew darker as he dipped his head into your neck, the hot air emitting from his mouth fanning over your skin. Making you shiver as one of his hands fell to your waist as his eyes dipped to meet yours. "How long have you been writing about me?"

"When did we meet?" You retorted, a anxious giggle falling from your mouth as your eyes darting away from his in shyness. Logan sighed out, his nose meeting the side of your cheekbone the scruff his beard threading to rub against your jaw.

"Well I'd like to make your fantasies come true." Logan grumbled into your ear as goosebumps rose across your neck. Your hand fell to his waist as you moved in closer to him.

"Please do." You panted, throwing caution to the wind with Logan so close and looking at you like that.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[runariya]

Part 2 of this | shout out to @sleepingzzzimp who made this happen lol part of the prompt game pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, yandere, dark romance warnings: compulsion and being held captive, obsessive and possessive JK, OC’s rather…special in regards of what JK did to her, allusion to dubcon/noncon, blood drinking, foul language, explicit sexual content, smut, OC’s ovulating, oral (m. receiving), ‘good girl’, a lot of saliva, deep throating, size difference, a lil bit of fingering, doggy, unprotected seggs, a lil bit of aftercare, a lil bit of fluff, lmk if I forgot smth pls word count: 2.573

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jungkook didn’t think much further than keeping you by his side, using you not only as his personal blood bag but also as a warm, perfectly suited pleasure-giver for his dead soul. It’s not like you have much of a choice, with the compulsion firmly in place to stop your fragile self from doing anything that might harm your mortal, precious life.

He knows, though, that even under compulsion, humans tend to remain aware of what’s going on. He’s seen that subtle flicker of consciousness more times than he can count. But with you, he never finds resentment, hatred, or sadness—none of the things he might expect, even when he himself would admit he’s gone too far.

It’s impressive, really, and makes it all the more fun and fulfilling to have you around. You’re like the perfect doll, tailor-made just for him. Amazing.

Weeks have passed—maybe months? Jungkook doesn’t know anymore, nor does he care to keep track of mortal time. What he does know is that a routine has formed. And part of that routine is watching you make breakfast in the old kitchen of his mansion. Because despite everything, you’re still human, and you need nutrition to keep being his personal supply.

Jungkook’s noticed for days now that something about you has changed, though he’s not entirely sure what it is. It’s like the compulsion has worn off, not working on you the way it used to. But that shouldn’t be possible. At least, not in his understanding of things.

Sometimes, as he watches you humming around the kitchen, occasionally singing along to the crackling radio on the top shelf, he daydreams of you being here by choice, not because of compulsion. It must be nice, he thinks, to have someone who loves him.

Could he even love? If it was with you, he might try. Or maybe this possessiveness is love, the only kind he’s capable of feeling.

Like every morning, Jungkook sits at the nearby table, watching you prepare a high-protein breakfast, as if you’re willingly keeping yourself strong for him. Then, it happens. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time, they’re crystal clear, fully conscious, without any trace of the haze he’s used to see in them.

His face would go pale if he weren’t already deadly white. Carefully, he stands up, every sense on high alert. The kitchen knives are just within your reach, which he’s absolutely not a fan of. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” Your voice is soft, melodic, and he can’t tell if you’re playing games or if he’s dreaming.

“You tell me.”

“I’m fine. But you’re not. You’re scaring me, Kook.”

He knows why you’re scared. He’s never acted this wary with you before, never approached you like you might be his literal downfall. But he can’t help it. Even though he knows you can’t really harm him, he refuses to let his guard down.

“I know the compulsion’s worn off. Stop pretending.” His voice is dangerously cold, stepping closer, eyes flicking between you and every potential threat—the knives, the hot pan, even the salt that could burn his eyes.

“I’m not pretending, I know it’s worn off.” You smile up at him, brighter than ever, like you’re happy to be free—though not from him, specifically.

“And why aren’t you running? Or fighting?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to indulge in some fantasy where you’ve magically fallen in love with your captor. But despite his caution, your words make him feel something—a fuzziness he hasn’t felt in centuries.

“Why would I?” You sigh, turning off the stove and setting down the spatula. “Jungkook, you’ve treated me well. It’s not like I would—”

“Cut the bullshit. I know you’re lying.”

“But I’m not, Kook. There’s no one out there waiting for me. And if there is, they’re only out to hurt me.”

Your eyes are glassy now, almost pleading, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

“And now, you’ve suddenly fallen in love with the one person who’s used you in every evil way imaginable?”

“It was never evil, and you know it.”

Your confidence throws him off. He’s always seen himself as the monster he is. He’s used your body, fed off you—blood and arousal—without ever asking for consent. How could that not be evil?

“But it was.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head disapprovingly as you turn back to the stove, reigniting it to finish your breakfast.

“It wasn’t. Did I give you permission for all that? No. Would I have if you’d asked? Probably not. But—”

“See!”

“I’m talking now. Shut up.” You point the spatula at him, and it’s so cute that he genuinely smiles for the first time in what feels like forever. “All I’m saying is, even though your ways are… unorthodox, you were never harsh with me. It never hurt, and I could feel how much you cared for my wellbeing.”

A silence falls between you, and Jungkook isn’t sure what to say. You’re sort of right. He never wanted to truly break you. He wanted to keep you safe, keep you useful for as long as possible. You’re too precious to waste.

“All I’m saying is, now that I’m fully conscious and making my own choices, I’d rather stay with you than go back to the humans.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You giggle, and despite himself, despite every reason not to, Jungkook chuckles too.

“Eat up. You’ll need it.”

Jungkook turns to leave, still processing, his mind racing. He needs time to figure out what to do next.

“Can’t wait,” you call after him, your tone teasing, and he’s pretty sure that if he could blush, he would.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

There’s no way in hell he’s able to figure you out. No. Way. Why are you all smiles and happiness, sitting like always on his giant bed, offering your neck to him like you always did?

He’s standing a good distance away, arms crossed over his sturdy chest, head tilted to the side. It’s not like he isn’t hungry—he’s starving, actually—because he’s never had his full fill of your blood, always making sure you’re alright after, leaving his hunger partially satisfied but never completely.

Saliva is collecting relentlessly in his mouth, his fangs protruding without much effort. Yet, he can’t make a move. What if it’s a trap? What if there’s a hidden dagger in your clothes, something that’ll kill him?

Should he just make you leave and find someone new? But he doesn’t want to. You’re just too sweet, too perfect for him to resist.

“Strip bare,” he commands, and the words alone make your thighs rub together as you immediately comply. Odd. 

You waste no time, each piece of clothing falling soundlessly to the floor, your nipples hardening in the cold.

“Turn around.”

You do. And he finds no threat on you. Odd again.

“Sit.”

You comply again, and he’s kind of aroused by your eager obedience. It’s refreshing, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to resist you if this keeps up—willingly walking into whatever doom you might be for him.

But still, he’s unable to move, even though the pulse of your neck is tempting him beyond reason.

“Kook,” you mewl softly, and he’s gone. Jungkook’s gone in the sweetness of you. He lets his arms fall, strides towards you, and practically tackles you to the bed, licking and breathing against your neck.

“So good,” he murmurs, saliva dripping from his lips onto your skin as you grind your hips against him. He’s not sure why you’re this eager—he hasn’t bitten you yet, so his bite’s usual effect can’t be coursing through your blood making you horny.

“Why so eager?” he muses, grazing his fangs along your artery.

“Ovulating,” you moan, your hands threading through his hair.

“Hmmm… I can smell it on you.” The intoxicating scent of your body wraps around him like a vice, and he can’t resist any longer. “Gonna make you feel good, doll.”

You only moan his name as Jungkook finally sinks his fangs into your delicate skin, your blood flooding his mouth, his entire being. It makes him feel high, high in a way that tells him he’ll never want anything or anyone else. He’s addicted to you.

Jungkook feels your arousal intensify, your dopamine and oxytocin levels skyrocketing as your juices drip from your perfect little hole, soaking his clothed thigh with a dark wetness.

“Yes, Kook, need more, please.”

Jungkook pulls back in surprise, the confirmation so new he’s unsure if he heard you right. But you grab his head, pushing him back to your neck while your other hand fumbles with his chest, trailing down to his abs.

“Please, Kook. I’ve been a good girl. Please.”

Jungkook feels like he’s in heaven—a demon allowed into paradise. He’s fully sated, despite not drinking much of your blood. He reckons it’s the awareness in you that magnifies the effect.

He licks the wound on your neck to help it heal, then leans back on his knees, admiring your flustered, tiny frame. You’re looking up at him with sparkly eyes, lips parted, neck still smeared with your blood—you’re a vision he’ll never get sick off.

“You’ve been a good girl?” There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing you this keen, and he plans to savour it.

“Yes, a good girl for you. Always for you.”

As Jungkook stands to strip off his own clothes, you’re watching him for the first time, drinking him in rather than lying there passively.

“Sit up. Open up.”

Obedient as ever, you do as told, opening your pretty mouth and sticking out your tongue, waiting impatiently.

Jungkook pumps his cold, rock-hard cock a few times, marvelling at the sight of you. He runs his thumb over his glans for an extra kick. And though he knows you can somehow take him, he’s always impressed by the sheer size difference. But you’re a good girl, letting him in, suppressing the gag as he hits the back of your throat, muscles pulsing violently around him.

A primal moan escapes his lips as his head falls back, savouring every second of you sucking him off like your life depends on it. He can’t help but thrust into your throat, his pace increasing with every push as you grab his hips to take him deeper, moaning around his cock. Your saliva drips down your chin, your eyes, aware, locking onto his as if to reassure him to give you all he's got. 

He doesn’t hold back after that, pushing his hips flush against your face, your nose pressed into him until you can’t breathe anymore as he lets go, shooting his load down your throat. He stays there a moment longer, riding out his orgasm before pulling back.

It’s pleasing to see that, even though you haven’t climaxed yet, your skin glows ever so lovingly.

“You good?”

You’re still catching your breath, but the smile on your face disarms Jungkook completely. “Yes, of course.”

For some reason, his heart swells at your words and at the person you are, someone he hadn’t truly seen until now.

A trail of arousal drips down his sheets, ending in a pool on the floor, which he hadn’t noticed before. The sight reignites his hunger as he flips you over, pushing your face into the bed and kneeling between your legs.

“Should I reward you?” Jungkook runs his fingers over your cunt, circling your entrance before moving to your clit, giving it a few rough pets.

All you can do is moan into the sheets, your hips pushing back desperately.

Jungkook always thought you were perfect, made for him—the reason he captured you all that time ago—but seeing you now, more perfect and conscious than you ever were, is something else entirely. He loves it. He loves you. And he doesn’t care if it’s possible or not—he’s never felt like this before, and he’ll move heaven and earth to keep it that way.

“I think you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve the big reward, don’t you?” Jungkook drags his fangs down your ass, ending at your inner thigh before sinking them into your soft skin for a little sip, your arousal adding a tantalising spice.

“Yes, Kook, been so good for you,” you pant, and that’s all he needs to reward you properly as he gets to his feet after licking the bite closed, lining his still-hard cock up with your weeping cunt.

It’s a tight fit, so tight he feels like he might pass out, his vision doubling and tripling as your pulsing walls grip him mercilessly. “My beautiful doll, my beautiful, beautiful doll.”

Jungkook can’t stop praising you with every word he knows. You’re perfect, moaning, drooling, and pushing back against his hips just for him.

“You’re mine, doll.” He sets a brutal pace, needing the confirmation that no compulsion is required for you to want this as much as he does.

“Yours, Kook. Always,” you cry, fists clutching the sheets as you push back even more desperately.

“Fucking right, mine.”

Jungkook grabs your hair without slowing down, pulling you up against his chest while his other arm holds you steady not to collapse right back to the bed. 

“Never gonna let you leave.”

“Don’t want to,” you moan, your glassy, love-drunk eyes locking onto his red ones.

“Never gonna stop fucking you.”

Your swollen, parted lips scream to be kissed.

“Never gonna want anybody else,” Jungkook confesses between pants, knowing and accepting there’s no turning back for either of you.

For the first time since he captured you, you kiss him back, sucking his tongue like you’ve been starved. It’s as if all this time, you’ve wanted to reciprocate, to give, not just receive.

And despite still tasting his cum on your tongue, there’s a newfound sweetness, making him wish the compulsion had worn off sooner.

“Kook, I’m close.”

He doesn’t need your words—he can feel it in your pulsing heat, your quickening heartbeat.

“Come for me, doll. Show me how much you want this.”

You scream his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, your walls clamping down on his cold cock. He doesn’t mind, wanting to feel every contraction, hear every scream, taste every rush of blood in your body.

His own orgasm builds, and he lets himself go, chanting your name as his thrusts grow irregular until he paints your walls bright white.

You both remain like that, catching your breath, though only your heart beats violently, only you are drenched in sweat, only you truly spent.

Jungkook eventually pulls out, cleaning you up with tissues from the nightstand, all while you watch, glowing ever so ethereal in your afterglow.

As Jungkook reaches for your clothes to dress you as he always does, you stop him with a hand on his tattooed arm. The boyish look he gives you is oddly endearing, and he senses you’re gathering all your confidence for your next words.

“Please don’t send me away.”

Your honesty hits him hard, and he straightens, realising he’s truly hit the jackpot with you.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises, and with that, you leap around his neck, legs wrapping around his tiny waist, thanking him over and over as if he's you're knight in shining armour.

[yuujiheart]

I wonder why people are saying sukuna chose uraume in the end, I mean if that's the case then why sukuna said this..

If uraume is what he"chose" then why does he wish to try a new path???... Didn't think I need to spell it out loud but sukuna took uraume and left to join the cycle of birth and death aka reincarnation....

Where they both will live a new and separate life .. And if not for yuji that wouldn't have been possible because it's only after coexisting with yuji was he able to understand others.. He himself admitted that yuuji is the reason he changed..

I mean he has been with uraume for so long and still didn't tell them about them being a twin.. Not to forget this panel where uraume was surprised when sukuna said these words means he never was like this in the past.. The words being highlighted also point to that.

In this panel he literally admits that he never wanted to change even though he could have. He had the chance not one but two...

And this reminded me of some posts referring to these choices as that North South thing... And it makes sense that he rejected both paths that is uraume and that miko girl( North) but chose to remain in the past that's to curse others ( South)..

Now I am not against any ship or anything because like gege said he chose not to add any romantic element in jjk so I see no point fighting over ships. But if sukuna being soft and gentle is what clarifies as love then yutamaki and all other ships are canon too.

And pls stop undermining yuji's effort.. He didn't go through all that pain for people to say sukuna only accepted because he lost. yuuji literally rattled him and made him question his own ideology. Gege hasn't shown it yet but it is obvious the way yuuji knows him no one else does.....

And the same goes for sukuna.. Yuuji actually freed him and It is evident from the way sukuna called himself a curse after he took a pause for the first time showing us how deeply being rejected and neglected had affected him..

[myzticbean]

Smutty dom!Xavier (Sex Pollen Pt. 2)

This is part 2 of my Xavier smut series, On The Job Work Hazards: Sex Pollen Made Me Do It. Find part 1 here. You can read it without part one, but it would make more sense in the context of the story. It's also wild that this ended up being an 11k+ word series🤷‍♀️😎

Quick recap: After a battle with a flower wanderer, you and Xavier unexpectedly get a little frisky, and now you're going to finish what you started. Read on AO3.

Pairing: Shen Xinghui | Xavier / MC (fem! reader) Tags: Dominant!Xavier, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex, ass play (f. receiving), shower sex, consensual rough sex, roleplay (consensual non-consent) -- everyone is an adult, nobody gets hurt 😊

Title: On The Job Work Hazards: Sex Pollen Made Me Do It

I wasn’t quite sure how it happened - I had never been swept away and materialized with Xavier before (I didn’t even think it was possible), but we appeared in his apartment in seconds. I gripped his neck a little tighter, frightened of the subtle power he displayed. 

“Xavier…” I questioned, trailing off as I peered up into his face. His eyes were shielded by his bangs, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. He just slowly released me, letting me slide down his body.

He tapped his watch, and there were beeps and alarms from both of our hunter units as we officially entered the decontamination protocol. In unison, we both took off the watches and set them aside. 

“Do you want to shower first?” he asked, voice quiet and restrained.

He didn’t want to meet my eyes, and I felt a little hurt. “I…did you change your mind?” I ask, a little hesitant but not quite sure how to read his body language. Just minutes ago, he seemed so confident and sure of what he - we - wanted. 

“No,” he said, startled, his eyes jumping up to meet mine. “I just didn’t want to pressure you in case you decided you…didn’t want…”

I sighed in relief, pulling out my ponytail and letting my hair fall down around my shoulders. I could see the bright yellow pollen still dotting my hair, skin and clothing. 

“Xavier, sometimes…” I shook my head lightly. “Look, I’d tell you if I didn’t want to. Haven’t I always been honest with you?”

“Sometimes too honest,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “It can hurt my feelings.”

I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile. “Shaddup.”

“Like that,” he said.

“If you don’t take your clothes off and join me in the shower, I’ll definitely just go back to my apartment instead,” I replied, starting to unfasten the various buckles and straps on my hunter vest. 

His hands immediately got to work, quickly unfastening his buckles and zips, and just as I shimmied out of my vest and undershirt, he was already standing nude in front of me.

I gaped, my eyes drifting down his body in a slow, visual caress. His skin was so pale and smooth (practically hairless except for a few scattered dustings of ultra-light ash brown hair), but a pink flush had started at his cheeks and worked its way down his neck and shoulders. 

“You…” I gulped a little, watching his abs ripple as I stared at his body in awe. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, watching the expressions race across my face. He placed one palm on his belly before sliding it down, taking hold of his rapidly-hardening cock. I swallowed, a little breathless.

“Yes.” I tried to bite back a moan.

“Please take off your clothes, I want to see you too,” he said, his whispery voice more urgent now with his need. He didn’t step towards me, simply watching as my hands started moving once more. I bent down to slide off my boots and socks, and pushed my pants and underwear down over my hips. 

As I stood back upright, he appeared in front of me, the heat radiating off of his skin and warming mine. I could feel goosebumps race over my flesh, and his masculine scent and the soft rustle of his hair twined around my body. I had never wanted someone the way I craved him.

“Touch me,” I half-begged, half-demanded. My nipples hardened in the slightly cool air conditioning. 

He reached out, trailing one finger across delicate collar bones before dipping down to trace along the curves of my breast. Using one finger, he scraped gently over one nipple. I inhaled quietly, my head tipping back slightly as he used his fingernail to scratch along the surface again, and then for a third time. My sensitive flesh tingled, red and slightly puffy.

“Your mouth too?” I wanted it to be a command, but it came out pleading instead. 

“Hm,” he said, neither a yes or a no, simply shifting a little closer. He knew what I wanted, and where I wanted his mouth, but instead, he barely moved to allow his chest to brush delicately against mine, the heated touch of his skin almost like fire to my sensitive flesh. 

His hand drifted away from my nipple, instead sliding down my ribcage and settling at the small of my back. He lowered his head, his soft hair a gentle caress against my cheeks and neck, and he pressed a small kiss to the underside of my chin. 

I tried to bite back the whine of dismay, lifting my chin a little higher to encourage him to trail down my neck and shoulders, but he didn’t move. His tongue darted out to take a lick, and then another, the soft, slick muscle a hint of things to come. I pressed my thighs together unconsciously.

“You said you wanted to be fucked…and then loved. Is that right?” Xavier asked, his voice somewhat muffled against me. 

“Yes,” I whispered. “That’s what I want.”

“Then I’ll need to get you ready,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to my neck before he stepped back, holding out one hand. “Come with me.”

I eagerly placed my hand in his, letting him tug me into the spacious, cream-colored bathroom. His apartment was a lot nicer than mine, but I didn’t stop to take in all the details, just watching as he flipped on the switch in the shower to warm up the water. He let me go to get a thick towel, and I was a little amazed at the casual confidence in his nudity. But I supposed if I had his body (and other gifts), I’d be pretty confident as well. 

“Let me brush my teeth first,” I said, watching his tight little ass clench as he opened a drawer and pulled out a new toothbrush for me. I got to work while he hung up the towel on the hook next to the shower door, and he motioned me inside after testing the temperature. I stepped into the spray, the hot water a welcome jolt after the sudden coolness of the apartment following an energetic battle.

“Xavier,” I murmured, unaware of how affectionately I said his name as he soaped up his hands and started stroking up and down my body. My neck and shoulders, arms, breasts and hips, he left no part of me untouched. He knelt down in front of me, soaping my legs, but his eyes were glued to the curves and folds between them. He toyed with the small patch of soft, dark hair I had trimmed right above my pussy.  

“I like this,” he said. “You are…perfect.”

I blushed furiously. “You don’t-” I started to say before he cut me off.

“I’m not being polite, and I’m not lying. You are so beautiful.”

I shivered, the feel of his calloused hands rubbing up and down my legs sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. He dipped me back into the water to rinse off.

“Let me wash you too,” I said, reaching for the soap.

“Next time, honey,” he promised thickly. He washed and rinsed himself off with record time, thrusting his head under the spray and scrubbing his hair roughly as I moved out the way to give him room. 

I laughed as he rushed, the warm steam in the shower adding the hazy, almost surreal experience. I could hardly wrap my head around how we just shifted from partners to lovers in less than an hour. 

He suddenly spun around, wrapping his arms around me and tugging me closer to his body, resting me against his chest and my stomach pressed against his eager, straining cock. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said, staring down intently at my surprised face, his blue eyes so dark they looked almost black. 

“So long?” I asked, a little disoriented, but he didn’t answer me, instead lowering his head and pressing his lips against mine. I parted my lips on instinct, awash in sensation as his tongue slicked along my bottom lip and entered my mouth. Our tongues tangled together; he deftly rubbed the roof of my mouth, skimming over my teeth, and even coaxed my tongue to follow his back into his mouth. I returned the favor, the feel of his thin, sweet lips on mine and his breath panting into my mouth as we exchanged fervid kisses. 

I could feel him, hot and trembling against my belly, and I undulated against his hardness in an unspoken invitation. 

“Turn around and put your hands against the wall,” he commanded, his voice tight and low. “Spread your legs, honey.”

I did as he asked, in no mood to play any games, and I bent forward, resting my palms against the cold tile. My excitement rose when I heard him kneel behind me. He spread the cheeks of my ass, exposing me to his gaze.

I whimpered, clenching a little in nervousness, but he just hushed me with a gentle hum. “That’s it, honey, just like this. I’m going to taste all of you now.”

It was indecent the way his voice caused an almost visceral reaction, my pussy damp and excited. 

“You’re so pretty, so pink and wet,” he said huskily, trailing his lips over one cheek and then the other. He suddenly nips me hard, and I can feel a blooming warmth from the bite. I groaned, my head lowered as I shifted back, hips arched and begging for his mouth. 

“Please,” I whispered, body aching. The arousal that had begun following our battle came roaring back with a vengeance. 

He trailed long, slender fingers up the damp slit of my pussy, his thumb rubbing a slow, meandering circle on my clit before sliding back down once more. The puffy folds were so sensitive, pink and flushed from my excitement, and tingled with every gentle stroke of his fingers. 

I moaned, unable to help myself, arching my back and spreading my legs a little farther apart. 

“Good girl,” he murmured softly, lips still pressed against the soft curve of my butt as he watched his fingers play in the damp folds, spreading them apart to expose my wet, quivering pussy. He grunted, obviously pleased, as he tugged playfully on one little fold.

“Why are you teasing me?” I grumbled, pressing my forehead against my hands. “I didn’t tease you like this.”

He immediately shifted, nipping a little harder and pulling back to admire the mark. “Alright, honey. I hear you.”

He immediately strengthened his strokes, going from light, playful touches to a more demanding tug. Using two fingers, he pinched my clit, massaging it with his calloused fingers in an undulating motion, tugging at the swollen hood.

I gasped, rocking back before pressing forward into his grip, pressing my clit more firmly against his fingertips. I could feel my body clenching in pleasure, empty and unfilled. 

“Xavier, gods, please,” I sighed in pleasure, the edge of a moan in my words. 

“That’s it, use my fingers. I’m going to get you nice and wet for me, okay?”

I shivered, pleasure racing down my spine and pooling between my legs. I could feel how damp and sticky my thighs were, the shower spray a distant hum of white noise. 

“Yes, yes,” I panted. “Please.”

He let go of my clit, trailing those deft fingers back up my slit, circling the quivering hole and coating his fingers with my wetness. Using one finger, he dipped inside, just barely breaching me before pulling back out. I groaned before gasping when he sunk his finger back inside a little deeper, working me open.

With his other hand, Xavier spread my cheeks, fingering the tight little bud of my ass that I had only ever considered something shameful. My cheeks flamed in embarrassment at the whine of ridiculous pleasure that escaped from me when I felt him circling the little ring.

“Oh, no, I-” I started to say before my words were cut off. He had pressed a finger more tightly against my ass, not breaching me, but the pressure had me clenching even tighter around the finger he was pumping inside of me.

“You like it,” he murmured, as if a little surprised but very pleased. I could tell he was turned on, his voice a little raspy now. 

“I’ve never…” I couldn’t finish the sentence as he slipped a second finger inside my pussy, curling and stroking the soft, quivering flesh inside. I breathed heavily, panting, my body bowstring tight. It had been a long time since I’d had a lover, and I was used to my own slim fingers or a vibrator. His fingers were deceptively long, filling me in a way I never could before. 

“Yes, oh my gods, yes, feels so good,” I moaned. “Give me another.”

He followed my orders this time without argument, slicking a third finger and easing it inside of me with a slow, steady pump. I felt full now, almost too full, and I loved it. I arched and pressed back, back against his fingers and the hand he used to stroke my ass. 

“That’s it, honey, just like that.”

For a moment, I thought I’d come just from his words, but suddenly, I could feel his tongue burrowing next to his fingers, licking around them as he continued to thrust them, slowly but steadily, into my pussy. I could hear tiny gulps, as if he were drinking nectar, a hum of pleasure vibrating his chest as he captured every droplet. 

I started shaking, my legs quivering as I could feel the wave of pleasure starting to crest. I wanted to come so bad, but at the same time, stretch it out just a little longer, the feel of his fingers and tongue fucking into my pussy about to drive me over the edge. 

“Oh, y-y-yes,” I stuttered, my hips writhing back on his fingers and mouth. I pressed my forehead even harder against my hands braced on the tile. Suddenly, I felt his mouth disappear, and I whimpered in loss, before a sudden exhale shook me as I felt his tongue tracing around the bud between my cheeks. 

I gasped, the filthy image of his tongue buried between there immediately raced through my mind, and the slick, deft tongue he used to press against my flesh shot me into orbit. I climaxed so hard I saw stars, my body gushing and clenching around his fingers and tongue. I cried out, sobbing and rocking back onto his hands. I could feel the fluid racing down my legs as each throb of my orgasm rocketed through my body. 

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wailed, his mouth furiously licking and sucking as his fingers thrust into my harder and faster, chasing and extending my orgasm. 

“X-X-Xav-Xavier,” I stammered, my tongue heavy and tired as I finally started to come down and he pulled away, my legs trembling and almost giving out. He caught me in strong arms, holding me tightly against him, my back pressed to his chest. I could feel his dick throbbing where it nestled between my buttcheeks.

“You did so good, honey. That’s it, just breathe,” he said softly, burying his face in my neck as I tried to steady my breath. 

“That…that was…amazing,” I said, still somewhat breathless, but I stretched in pleasure, lifting my hands to drape over his neck as he stood behind me. 

“We’ve only just begun,” he replied, somewhat cheekily I noticed with a lifted eyebrow, but he sounded so happy that I let it slide. 

“Let’s finish up here, I want you in my bed,” he murmured as he lifted his head. We stood there for a few moments longer just cuddling closer. 

I stepped back into the spray, hastily washing away some of the slick between my thighs, my body still a little shivery with aftershocks. He watched me, soaping up his hands and sticking them in the spray around me, rubbing over my tummy as the water sluiced down our bodies. 

He stepped back, reaching outside the glass door to grab our towels as I turned off the spray, and we dried off in comfortable silence. I giggled a little as I bent over, towel drying the damp strands of my hair and swiping down my legs.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice questioning. 

“I just thought it was a little funny that this morning, I woke up with no idea that we’d be…uh…together like this,” I said, smiling as I flipped back my hair and wrapped the damp down around my body. He hadn’t bothered, just hanging the towel back up and stepping out of the shower nude. 

He walked casually to the sink, swishing a little mouthwash as he stared at me in the mirror. After he had finished, he lifted his head to watch me drape my towel on the hook next to his and saunter out into the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of something soft, but shuttered, in his eyes. I wondered what he was thinking about…but it wasn’t the right time to ask, not when we both had something else on our minds. 

I collapsed on his unmade bed, sprawling on the sky blue bed sheets and his fluffy white comforter bunched up under my hips. When I flipped onto my belly, I could smell the scent of him in the pillows and sheets, sweet and sugary (telling on his probable affinity for eating candy in the bed), and his warm, inviting scent. 

He paused when he walked into the room, a clean towel in his hands that he threw over the footrest at the end of the bed as he watched me wallowing in his sheets. I wanted to leave a mark of my own scent behind, I thought, so that after I left, he would be reminded of me perhaps. 

He crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside me, and ran his hands up the back of my thighs and over my butt, his fingers digging in a little as he traced them up to my shoulders. I wiggled a little, sighing as he trailed over my ribs and spine, and laughed at the ticklish sensation. He laid down beside me, moving the hair off my neck and giving me a gentle kiss, his chest pressed against my arm and back as he hovered over me. 

“Xavier,” I murmured quietly, turning my head towards him as he propped himself up on one arm. The other hand smoothed up and down my back, hands warm against my skin. 

“Yes?” he asked, watching his fingers as they tickled along my hips. 

“It feels good,” I answered, stretching a little into the caress. 

He hummed a little, thoughtful and quiet as he touched every part of me that he could reach. I flipped over, watching his hand trail along my skin as I moved, and it settled just under the dip of my belly button. 

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asks in a low, rumbling tone - quite a departure from his usual whisper-soft voice. I liked the difference, knowing that I was hearing it because he was turned on and just as attracted to me as I was to him. 

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully, reaching up to rub his cheek, swiping a finger over his parted lips. He captured my finger between his teeth in a gentle bite before letting me go. “I want your mouth, your teeth and tongue and fingers, and I want your cock pounding into me while I come. I want my legs over your shoulders, I want you to fuck me from behind, I want to be on top of you and ride you until you think you might die.”

I smiled naughtily. “I guess I’m saying, I want it all.”

“That’s a long list for tonight, but I’ll see what I can do,” he answered casually. I gulped.

“It doesn’t have to be all at once,” I muttered. I draped my arms over his neck, tugging him closer. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Haven’t we already kissed?” I questioned back, smiling.

He just watched me, hovering above me propped on one arm, the other tracing over one nipple before pinching it. 

“Yes,” I hissed, lifting my head in a silent beg for his mouth.

He smiled, a small one but there in the soft corners of his lips, and lowered his mouth to mine. Before today, we had never been this close, this intimate, but we were rapidly learning each other's likes and dislikes. I liked it when he nipped at my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, his mouth neither too wet nor too dry against mine. He liked it when I sucked at his top lip, licking along the seam of his mouth before my tongue dipped inside. 

I breathed out a happy sigh when he pulled away, his nose nuzzling along mine as we breathed together. I combed my fingers through his damp hair, brushing the bangs back so I could see his face.

“I know a little about what you like,” he starts, his voice quiet and restrained. “What do you not like?”

I wasn’t really sure how to answer. How could I admit how generally normal my sex life had been? A few short-lived relationships when I was at the university, and one or two dates after I joined the hunter’s association didn’t make for an exactly thrilling love life. 

Maybe he could see the conflict, or confusion, in my expression, because he gave me another quick, deep kiss before pulling away again. “How about this? Are you okay if I play a little rough?”

“How rough are we talking about? I don’t want any blood,” I said, staring up at him. 

“I won’t hurt you like that,” he soothed, brushing a hand over my face, and tugging gently on a lock of dark hair. “Did you like what I did before? Bites and…” he paused, pinching my nipple again, but a little harder this time.

I gasped, nodded, and said “yes” on a long exhale. My nipple felt a little sore, but the pleasurable tingles overrode any discomfort. He leaned over, sucking the abused nipple into his mouth, pulling strongly at it. I grabbed his head, cradling him against my breast, and jerked when I felt his teeth clamp lightly over the tip. The grip got steadily harder, though, and I could feel a flash of pain and pleasure clouding my mind. I jerked, shudders wracking my body. He tugged at it once more before pulling away with a soft little pop as he let me go.

It was flushed red by his mouth, and I shivered, the damp skin prickling as he puffed a warm little breath over my breast. 

“It seems you like a little pain with your pleasure?” he asked, but I could tell he already knew.

I nodded. “Not…not a lot,” I said, a blush on my cheeks. “But I like how you make me feel.”

“I’ll check in with you, okay? If you feel like it’s too much, I want you to say something. Green means you’re good, yellow means we need to take it slow, and red means no more. Got it?”

I nod. “Got it.” He was much more experienced with this than I was, I noticed. I tugged him down, brushing my lips over his. “What about you? What do you like?”

He smiled, catching his bottom lip between his teeth before he let go. “Hmm, that’s a conversation for another day. This is all about you, honey.”

I pouted, my lips pursing. I didn’t like that answer, but he swept me into another deep, searing kiss before I could argue. I slumped back to the bed once he released me, panting. 

He lowered his head, nipping along my neck to the meat of my shoulder, using his teeth in a slightly harder bite. I grunted, writhing and feeling trapped by his teeth but incredibly excited. I’d never had another lover bite me like this - sure, a few love nips, but this was an actual bite. I could feel the imprint of teeth when I rubbed a hand over it, my mind a little hazy at the tender sensation. 

“What color, honey?”

“Green,” I said, digging my head into the pillows and arching my neck in blatant invitation. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, resuming his exploration. He slipped down my body, his mouth licking and sucking along the curves of my breasts before baring his teeth and biting down once more. A little harder this time, and as he released the clamp of his teeth, he sucked the flesh tightly into his mouth, his tongue licking along the trapped flesh. He was leaving a mark this time, an angry red bordering on purple. 

“Oh, yes,” I moaned, the release of his mouth sending tingles shooting through my body, endorphins rushing to fill the space where pain had once been. He chuckled darkly, his face pressed between my breasts as he reverently kissed each mound. 

“That’s it, I want to hear you even more.” 

He went on, his hands and lips skimming over my body. I felt like there was no inch left unmapped, and I was panting by the time he finally knelt between my legs. He lifted one of my legs, propping it on his shoulder and rubbed his hands firmly from my ankle to my knee. He turned his head, biting the meat of my calf, but not enough to leave a mark. 

“I’m going to use my fingers until you’re nice and ready for me, honey, and then I’m going to put your legs over my shoulders and fuck you deep into this mattress.”

I watched as his eyes locked on my pussy, now exposed with one leg thrown over his shoulder. I bent the other knee, digging my heel into the mattress and opening myself up to his gaze. I gripped the sheets since I couldn’t reach him, my body already aching and ready.

“Please,” I shamelessly begged. “Hurry.”

He tutted, a small sound, but I could see the smile in his eyes. “I don’t want to rush,” he said softly, his eyes lowering as he surveyed my body under his. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

He reached down, gripping his cock with one hand as he knelt between my legs, his long, slim fingers wrapping around it. He stroked it, almost casually, as he watched me undulate with barely suppressed need.

“Xavier, you’re teasing me,” I pouted, my eyes glued on his hands. I swallowed hard, remembering the taste and feel of him in my mouth. His eyes were dark as he watched me, and I could tell he was practically reading my mind.

“Next time, I want you on my face while you suck my cock,” he sounded a little pained, watching as I licked my lips. 

I nodded fervently, fists clenching in the sheets. “Please,” I begged again, trying to spread my legs even wider.

He didn’t tease me anymore, releasing his cock to grab my thigh as the other hand stroked up and down my damp slit. His thumb pressed against my clit, circling, while his fingers slowly dipped into my pussy. I was still wet from the play in the shower, no resistance against his entrance, so he easily added a second finger. He stretched me gently, curling his fingers and stroking that soft, spongy spot that had me groaning in pleasure.

His fingers curled and pressed forward, before he paused and went still, the pressure high and tight. I tried to wriggle my hips, arching and squirming. “Xav,” I whined, “keep moving.”

Instead, he lifted his second hand, two fingers clamping on my clit again, and between the pressure on my clit and in my pussy, I could feel myself rapidly building towards another climax even without extra stimulation. I moaned, thighs quivering. “I’m close,” I panted. 

He massaged his fingers before releasing the pressure on my clit, and I could feel the blood rushing back into the tender area. He added one more finger, three buried deep as he curled and stretched me a little more before he finally lined himself up between my legs.

“You ready, honey?” he asked, voice tight and sultry, his pupils blown wide as he looked down at me. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, canting my hips up. I could feel the stretch in my hamstrings and thighs as he pulled my second leg over his other shoulder, my butt cradled between his thighs as he centered himself. He tilted forward, curling over me, and eased himself into my body in pulses. Pushing forward, withdrawing, over and over as he opened me up to fit his cock. I instinctively tightened as he bottomed out, wanting him to stay inside deeper, longer, filling me up.

He grunted, hips pulsing forward in a slow, methodical roll. I could feel him pressing against me, full and deep, and it was almost painful how good it felt. I threw my head back, gasping his name. 

“Give me your color, baby,” he ordered, “because I’m going to start now.”

“Green,” I promptly replied, thighs clenching in excitement. 

Without holding back, he spread his knees wider for better traction, one arm wrapped across my legs and the other braced beside me as he leaned over, and I felt him pull back and thrust in, hard and deep and fuck, it hurt so good, I cried out. 

He picked up an almost brutal pace immediately, his cock rubbing against the sensitive walls of my pussy with the angle. All I could feel were short, sharp thrusts before he pumped into me so deep I could feel him against my cervix. Each movement sparked a rough drag against my clit, sending a shockwave through my belly. 

I couldn’t even speak, my throat tight as I panted for breath. He kept thrusting, but it wasn’t mindless, it was with precision on just how deep he knew I could take it. And that faint edge of pain dissipated when he suddenly shifted, the edges of his cock now rubbing against that perfect spot inside of me with each thrust.

I went nova. I clenched my pussy, tight like a vise around his cock, demanding more. My fingers were digging into the mattress, and I could hear the faint tearing sound of the sheets. Tears leaked from my eyes as I was rapidly overwhelmed by pleasure, his cock pumping into me at a steady pace as soon as he realized he had gotten the perfect angle. 

“Y-y-y-yes,” I tried to say, teeth chattering. All I could see were his shoulders arched above me, blocking out the light as he fucked me into the mattress, just as he promised. I was locked down tight, unable to get any leverage to push back against his thrusts. 

I was almost insensible. “Harder, fuck me, yes, fuck, harder,” I tried to demand, but I don’t know if he could even understand me. He didn’t change his tempo, though, no matter how much I wanted him to go even deeper, his cock spearing into me over and over again. 

I reached up with one hand, scrambling for purchase at his shoulder, and he curled over, my body rolled up even tighter, legs trapped as he fucked me now even deeper than before. Every thrust was winding me up even tighter. 

I dug my nails in, scratching at him in my mindless pleasure. Warmth coiled between my legs, trembling from the stretch, and suddenly, I clamped down. Spasms and waves of pleasure burst forth, and I could hear the sound of his cock fucking into my clenching, wet pussy. 

I cried out, tears streaming from my eyes, mouth open as I panted and gasped for breath, my entire body shivering with white hot flashes of heat and electricity from one of the most powerful orgasms of my life. He held me firmly, and I was unable to move away even as I began to grow more sensitive, but my climax kept cresting over and over again, unending, as he continued to thrust into my flexing pussy. My clit was overstimulated and sensitive, red and flushed as it dragged along his cock. His eyes were locked on me, tracing over my face and body obsessively. 

I tried to writhe from the pleasure, but I couldn’t move, and excitement continued to flood me as I realized he had me exactly how he wanted me. There was nothing I could do. I sobbed, pleasure hazing my thoughts, and I felt like I was going to pass out. 

“Color,” Xavier demanded harshly, sweat peppering his hairline and glistening on his chest and shoulders as he maintained his rhythm. 

“Y-yellow?” I say somewhat questioningly. I was having a hard time catching my breath, and I knew as I came down from my orgasm I was going to be very sensitive, but I didn’t want to stop.

He hummed, slowing down though still pulsing inside of me, more gently now. “Let’s try this,” he says, and carefully pulls out. He lets my legs fall free and helps me flip over to my belly.

“On your knees, honey,” he coaxes. “That’s it, good girl. Rest your head on the bed, but lift your hips. There we go.”

The praise is…honestly, it was really doing it for me. I blushed and hid my face in the ragged sheets as I got into the new position, lifting my hips and arching my back. I turned my head a little, glancing over my shoulder.

Xavier was flushed, face and chest pink, damp from exertion and control. He was mind bogglingly gorgeous, the ropey muscles of his arms tight as he gripped my hips and abs clenched as he braced himself behind me.

I can feel the traces of my orgasm dripping down my thighs, damp and flushed as I move my legs further apart to let him slide more closely behind me. He stroked one hand over the curve of my butt before he drew back his hand and swatted me. I was more surprised than hurt, the slight sting of his palm print vividly red against the pale skin of my butt.

I gasped, rocking forward.

“Color, baby,” he reminded me.

“Green, very green,” I said, voice muffled in the sheets as I clench my hands.

He slapped my butt again, not any harder, but this time on the other cheek for a matching handprint. I bit down on my hand to smother my desperate whines. He didn’t go any further, just lined himself up and slowly sunk back into me, my pussy clenching around him as if to suck him in further.

He slipped a hand around my waist, his fingers dropping to rest over my clit. Not a lot of pressure, just a teasing stroke as he began to pick up his pace. He held on to my hip with his other hand, controlling our rhythm.

I groaned, my face turned to the side as I tried to breath through the sensitivity. I hardly ever went through the effort of multiple orgasms when it was just by myself, and I felt a little rusty. I bit my lip in stifled amusement at the thought, though I caught him tilting his head as he watched me, the slap of our flesh getting a little louder. 

“So good,” I whispered, allowing myself to sync into the feeling of his body against mine, the heat of his skin, the thickness of his cock slipping deeper into my body. I shivered, a little tired and sore, but the ache seemed to heighten the slow deluge of pleasure.

“One more time, honey,” Xavier murmured gently behind me, his hips smoothly rolling forward, sinking into me. I was so wet, the slick glide of our bodies audible in the otherwise quiet bedroom. 

“I-I can’t,” I said, tear tracks still damp on my cheeks. Almost as if mesmerized, he stretched out on top of me, leaning down to press along my back, licking tenderly at the tears of pleasure still dripping down my face. 

He braced himself over my back, his hips still pumping, and I could feel the soft skin of his testicles brushing my ass each time he bottomed out. He was sticky with my orgasm, the scent of my body and my pleasure filling the room. He inhaled deeply, eyes like midnight, pupils blown in pleasure. He tweaked one of my nipples playfully, before pinching it harder a second time.

“You can, I know you can,” he answered, his voice whispery soft and seductive. 

“No,” I whimpered. “I really can’t.” But I clenched around his cock, wet and needy and sore. I needed more. As if uncontrollably, he fucked me harder, deeper, groaning as I caught him off guard. 

I realized what had set him off, and I hid my grin as I turned my face briefly away from him. I gave a faint struggle, whispering a soft “green”, before I raised my voice.

“No, Xavier, please, I’m too sore. I can’t,” I cried, letting out a little sob as tears welled in my eyes a little more. I could feel the sheets under my cheek growing damp. I struggled as if to try to pull away from him, twisting and reaching forward towards the headboard with one hand. 

He growled, a flush spreading down his chest as I felt him get impossibly harder inside of me. Gods. I’d never done anything like this before, but I was so turned on, I could feel my thighs stained with my slick. 

“No, don’t,” I said, struggling a little harder, my hands scrabbling for purchase against the mattress. He gripped my hips so hard, I knew I’d probably have bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and fuck, it was so deliciously bad. He stretched out on top of me, pressing me deeper into the mattress now, gripping my wrists in one hand.

“Take it, baby, I know you can handle it.” He nipped my earlobe hard before sucking it into his mouth, laving his tongue around the shell of my ear. He had me pinned down, splayed underneath him, and finally let go.

He fucked me hard, losing any gentleness he had remaining. I cried out, my body quivering from the bombardment, sensitive and on fire. He angled so deep I could feel him tight and hard, and I was stuffed full. 

“Ah, ah, ah-” I panted with each thrust, my voice muffled as I pressed the side of my face into the mattress. He wrapped one arm under my waist, holding me tightly against him as he abruptly lifted one knee, my leg hooked around his, changing the angle until…

I sparked, spasming around his cock, squealing as I felt a release of fluid. I screamed into the mattress with my orgasm, tears gushing from my eyes as I cried out over and over. I could feel the warmth between our bodies as I squirted in pleasure, and a groan rumbled through his chest when he felt it. 

I felt him lose his rhythm just as I started coming down, becoming more jerky until he pulled away, fisting his cock a few more pumps to jet his release on my back. I sighed with a small ‘ah’ as I felt the heat of his come in stripes along my skin. He moaned, head lolling to watch with narrowed eyes filled with pleasure as he aimed the last of his release on one of the handprints on my ass. 

I sprawled bonelessly on the bed, dazed, while he slumped next to me, both of us panting. I shivered, the last vestiges of my multiple - incredible - orgasms rocketing through my body before I finally started to settle. He breathed deeply, his cock slowly softening against his belly as we lay in complete disarray on his bed.

“Wow,” I murmured, voice husky and strained after screaming through multiple climaxes. 

He nodded before turning his head to look at me, one hand reaching for mine where it rested limply on the bed. He lifted my hand, brushing a tender kiss along the knuckles.

“You are so beautiful,” he answered, his voice also raspy with a post-orgasmic glow. 

I blushed, a silly response considering this man had already licked my ass, fingered me to orgasm and then blew my literal mind with the best sex I had ever had, but his sweetness never failed to catch me off guard. 

“You are too,” I said shyly, half burying my face into the bed and grinning as I watched his face, now relaxed, curve briefly with a small smile. He kissed my hand again before he groaned a little, rolling off the bed to his feet.

I chuckled, not daring to move with all of the fluid still dotting my back. “You sound like an old man,” I said, missing the look he darted my way. He stretched, rotating his shoulders as he stood unconcernedly nude, both of our fluids smeared across his belly. He reached for the towel at the end of the bed and wiped my back gently to remove the traces of his come, before he casually swiped it over his cock.

“If you have the energy, we can wash up,” he said calmly. 

“And then a nap?” I asked hopefully.

“And then definitely a nap.”

[sweptawayghost]

Light My Fire PT.1

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

DUEL POV

Word count 6.8K 

CHAPTER WARNING: male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, age gap, mention of guns, slow burn, pov,flirting, friends to lovers, mentions of choking, angst, fluff

Series summary: Joel Miller is down bad for the first time in a long time. After him and Ellie arrive and settle into life in Jackson, Joel is itching to get out. He becomes your patrol partner but he could be so much more if you give him the chance. 

This will be a slow burn 

Anything written in italic indicates someone talking to themselves

Hello anyone who cares enough to read this!

So I had previously written two parts of a series I was planning titled “In Dreams” . Since then I have decided I want to change how I write this and have decided that a good old fashioned POV would be more enjoyable to write. So this will be the main series but I will leave my previous works up. if you have already red my first part of In Dreams you don't really need to read this one but i have changed a few things

Thank you for reading and as always your feedback is appreciated!!!!!

///

Joel Miller was down bad. 

He found himself wondering how far too many times. He was sure he'd sworn off love and romance but then there you were. With your toothy grins and your warm palms. Eyes that made him feel safe and seen. 

Your laugh filled his ears and swelled his heart. He would do anything to be in the same room as you, he would move where you move, he would go where you go, He could listen to you talk about anything and nothing as long as you kept looking at him and laughing at his stupid jokes. 

He wishes he could tell you right now how badly he wanted you. He wishes he could let you know how important you were to him, how he would move mountains if it would make you smile. 

He hoped you would see how much Ellie loved you.

Joel saw the spark return to her eyes thanks to you. He loved that you cared about her so much, as if she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world. 

How you fed her, brushed her hair for her. You happily opened your home to her when you knew Joel would be gone for a night or just to make sure she wouldn't be alone. 

There were just certain things that Joel couldn't provide for Ellie. But He knew you could. He wanted you to be in her life regardless of how he felt for you and how you felt for him. How do you feel about me? 

///

JOEL

I draw my eyes down to the half drunk glass of whisky that rests lazily in the palm of my hand. 

The late afternoon light comes flooding in through the doors as a young man runs into the bison and jumps behind the bar and through to the kitchen. The chill of the fall air sweeping in alongside the light. 

I've always liked fall. I loved the feeling of the warm sun pouring down on me in the mornings and the burning numbness in my fingertips when the sun begins to set and the chill of night starts breathing down my neck. I loved the way the leaves changed and morphed into shades of a fire, I liked how delicate they seemed, ready to be swept away at the slightest gust of wind. I loved the way the earth smelt, especially when it rained. 

I loved the way the earth started to soften and sink, It made it easy to track. Rain brings water and water is a lifeline. 

It was also nice to see the town prepare for the cold months that were about to come. People up on the roofs of their homes, cleaning gutters, fixing shutters and patching broken windows, salting meat and tanning hides, pickling and preserving anything they could. Preparing the green houses, people dragging bags of soil and horse shit to the doors, weeding, turning soil. People worked steadily but they never seemed rushed, as if there wasn't a sense of urgency or an immediate threat looming over their heads everyday. Sometimes it just seemed like a normal, sleepy, small town. In a normal world. On a normal day. 

I move my eyes to my brother sitting across from me, even though he's right in front of me I feel a million miles away from him. It makes me a little sick to see how unfair the years have been to him. It might also just be because I just never envisioned him this old before. I always saw him how he was when he was twenty. So full of life, happy, electric, even when he shouldn't have been, it probably would have saved him from getting into a few scraps back in the day and it would have saved me from a bloodied nose when I had to step in and help him. 

Now he looks… sad

Distant, cold and old. His eyes that once lit up with fire now sunken and barely an ember burning in the night. I wish he was fatter as well. It would probably make me feel better for not being there for him, for letting him endure all that he has without my help. Maybe I shouldn't blame myself. Afterall, he was the one who left. 

I still wouldn't trade him for the world. 

“So your patrol partner…” Tommy's voice pulled me back into the moment. The door swings shut with a soft thud and suddenly the sound of patrons and chatter fills my ears again.

A million miles away

“You’ll like her but…” he trails off looking down into his own glass, the lights in the bison were low and warm, it felt like a hug, it felt warm it also made everyone seem warmer and more alive, more vibrant. 

Tommy let the corners of his mouth turn upward, almost smiling “ She’s shy, she's real weary of new people so no offence intended” he stated, pulling his glass up to his lips and sipping its content. 

No offence intended?

“Is that your subtle way of tellin’ me she a bitch?” I raised an eyebrow at my brother and let my eyes roam over to the door again as it swung open, letting in more fresh air that settled on my forehead that I didn't realise was burning until now. 

“Some would say” is the only reply he was offered

Some would say. 

But Tommy wouldn't. 

Now Tommy may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I trust him when it comes to people. He seems to have an inapt ability to tell when someones genuine and when someones about to fuck you over.  I trust him with this one. I wouldn't trust him to set a trap, or to wake up when he was told to. I wouldn't trust him to drive a tractor in a straight line and I wouldn't trust him to borrow and return my tools no matter how many times I remind him. But this I can trust him with. 

“She's good quality” He continues “if she asks you some out of pocket shit it means she likes ya” another smile threatens to bleed across his face “ And if she treats you like you're stupid then she really likes ya” He throws the rest of his drink down his throat before dropping his glass back down to the table. 

I let the side of my mouth curl up with his words, knowing exactly what he means before I pull back the rest of my drink.

///

As I walked home that afternoon I thought about how surreal everything felt. It sometimes felt like I was watching a movie or tv show and not actually living this life. 

Tomorrow I’ll be going out on patrol with a new partner. Tommy had taken me out a few times teaching me the ropes, not that it was necessarily complicated work and while I knew after a while I would be placed with a new partner I was worried. It was easy with Tommy, we would communicate so much with only the nod of a head, we knew each other's limits, no need for small talk or to fill the air with unnecessary chatter because some people can't sit with silence. 

Tommy knew exactly what button to push when it came to me. This was a blessing and a curse, especially given that I knew exactly how to push back. 

I’m not scared of new people… but I am scared of stupid people, im scared that this person will crumble under pressure and fuck up. What if they make a stupid move that costs me my life, what if they leave me for dead, what if they don't know how to turn the safety off their gun because they've never had to point it at anything. 

 I filled my time in between patrol shifts with Tommy by completing handyman duties, fixing things made me feel useful, like I wasn't so much of a burden and I was earning my keep at least. Not like there was a shortage of jobs around here, it seemed like there was always something to do, patch up a fence, sweep out a barn, fix a hinge on a door, one of the women even asked me to come over and clean her pipes, I told her I wasn't qualified for that kind of work, the sexual innuendo not lost on me, just didn't wanna give it up for a woman who thinks that a cheesy line like that would work on me. 

I just kept on moving from one thing to the next, I couldn't slow down. I didn't want to slow down because that would have given me time to think. 

A small group of five or six kids runs past me in the street grabbing my attention and pulling me out of the mental nightmare I was about to fall into.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that we are here, that the threats of the outside seem like a distant memory and that we don't have to fight tooth and nail to make it to the next day. 

This notion also made me feel uneasy. I feared what this would do to me over time, letting myself relax and letting my guard down. When we arrived, Tommy asked that I surrender my pistol, only temporarily until I “acclimated”. Tommy and big words aren't a usual mixture, it's kind of like putting hot sauce on vanilla ice cream. Without my gun I felt naked, like I have no means of defence, even now as I walk down the street I feel the absence of its weight on my hip. 

I wasn't used to people smiling at me as I walked past them, I wasn't used to women smiling at me when they walked past my house,sometimes 3 times a day. I wasn't used to finding ‘ready to cook meals’ at my doorstep when I came home and I wasn't used to small tokens and gifts left on the front doormat, books, notepads, pens, paper clips and rubber bands, thumb tacks, shoe laces, toilet paper. Almost insignificant things, but now seem like so much more. 

///

I Woke up with that feeling in my chest… again. like a high calibre bullet has blasted through me for only a moment. For a moment, I'm back in the basement. I'm on the freezing concrete floor laying on top of a barely there mattress and my back is so sore I feel like I'll never be able to get up. For a moment, there's a pain in the left side of my abdomen and it hurts worse than the feeling in my chest and the pounding feeling in my head. For a moment… 

I open my eyes letting the blue hues of the morning sky flood my vision as it spills in from between my curtains and paints itself on my walls and ceiling. I try not to let my mind go there. I try to keep those memories packed away. I try to save them in case…  Well, I don't know right now, but I know that thinking about it isn't going to change it.

 I pull myself up and hang my feet off the side of the mattress, rubbing small circles into my chest to try alleviate the pain that's decided to set up camp there. 

I let reality wash over me again. 

I'm safe. I'm okay.

As if those words should make me feel better, as if I deserve to feel that way after everything I've done. 

In the time since Ellie and I have arrived I've set up a routine for myself. I need to keep busy and I need to keep moving. Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. Coffee has entered my life again and like a toxic lover I just have to keep going back for more. I don't know how I ever lived without her, she's the devil in disguise, she's dark and deep, while the instant stuff was nothing compared to the real shit, but i couldn't love it any less. 

In the weeks that Ellie and I spent getting settled into the house, I quickly learnt all the creaks and cracks the house made as you moved through it. On really windy days it was almost like it was breathing with the way it groaned against the wind.

I pulled open the front door, pushing my shoulder into the wood as I pulled it back so the swollen wood wouldn't make too much noise when I pulled it away from the door frame.  It's funny how every sound seems like it's amplified when the suns not out. I whirl my head around to look up the staircase, I can see Ellie’s bedroom door from where I stand, the blue light casting the whole house in a dream-like shade of blue. In a few hours she'll (hopefully) be up and well on her way to school. 

I know it's definitely not her favourite thing and trust me I think school for the most part is a waste of time but I have seen her hand writing and i've seen her try to stitch up a wound and I doubt that she could point out which berries are safe to eat and which ones will turn your insides to gravy. 

Unlike the QZ, this school would actually be helpful to her. Besides all that… she needs friends, she needs connection, she needs to feel safe and not just with me. 

Stepping onto the front porch with socked feet I let the steam of the coffee swirl around my face and inhaled the chilled morning air. The streetlights glow softly on Jackson's main street, a few blocks aways from the place I now call my home. I hear the soft murmuring of people start to make their way into the mess hall for breakfast before starting their daily assignments. It reminded me of before. 

When Ellie and I arrived back in Jackson for good we didn't have much more than the clothes on our backs, we both smelt to high heaven and my feet felt like they were going to fall off, my face hurt from squinting my eyes and my lips were cracked and bloody. When I looked at Ellie I felt my heartbreak, as much as I was hurting I knew she was hurting ten fold. She looked so defeated. 

The community had put together something of a welcome basket for us. The house was stocked with towels and sheets, the wardrobe had some clothes in it, t-shirts and a winter jacket as well as some thick socks, the ones I wear now. A pair of jeans, underwear and even some shorts… I will never trust a grown man who willinging wears shorts.

Ellie got more or less the same items, even a few dresses which remain discarded in the back of her wardrobe, finally she got a new pair of shoes and not those shitty canvas ones that would leave her feet soaked to the bone. 

Soaps, toothbrushes and toothpaste, lip balms, conditioner and shampoo, razors, a hair brush and a comb. All such simple items which now seem like they are worth their weight in gold.  The bars of soap were imperfect and misshapen, the toothpaste came in a powdered form in an old glass container that looked like it once housed a candle or some kind of ointment. So many of the clothes had holes that had been patched over and mended in some way, same with the sheets and towels. 

The items and all their imperfections made them even more special. Handmade and hand mended. Someone cared enough to see the potential in salvaged items that were otherwise discarded and left behind. 

I remember that first shower I had. 

I wanted to cry

Maybe I did cry, it's hard to tell. 

I remember how it felt. Human, warm, like I was wanted, like someone was holding me and stroking my skin with a thousand fingertips. I wasn't just having a shower, I was washing away all the blood that had dried in the cracks of my skin, I was washing away all the grime that clung to me like a stubborn headache, the sweat, the guilt, the tightness in my chest that I knew would be there tomorrow when I wake up but in the moment it felt like it was gone forever.  

I felt guilty taking so much when I had taken away so much already. You have to stop thinking that. 

I can almost imagine the last twenty years were just a really bad and vivid nightmare as I stand in the crisp air of the morning. The neighbourhood starts to stir and begins to breathe to life before the sun makes its way over the hills. I close my eyes and drag in a breath and release it as I drop my chin to my chest. The sound of gravel crunching under foot, muted conversations and the sound of my neighbour walking around the upper level of their home. All familiar sounds, now alien. 

I crane my neck from side to side to relieve some pressure from the ache that lives there.

When I look down at the woolly socks that cling to my feet I notice a growing hole in the right foot, where my big toe lives, the pad on the heel also beginning to thin out, ready to throw in the towel any day now. Shame, I thought to myself, I really liked these socks. 

///

I make my way down to the gates of Jackson. I remember Tommys words from yesterday “If she treats you like shit she really likes you” 

I'm not one to shy away from a challenge, I like straight forward people but you have to be careful it doesn't fall from being blunt to being an asshole, I like to think I've perfected that. If this new partner of mine wants to believe that she's better than me because, what? She’s been here longer? She knows the routes better? that’s fine but if she fucks up and makes a fool of herself I’d be very happy to give her the reality check she needs. 

I pass a few friendly faces as I walk down the street, offering a wave because that's the neighbourly thing to do. Neightbourly. The concept seems odd when you've seen the things we have. 

Arriving at the gates I never expected to see you. 

In fact you were probably the last thing I would have expected to see on patrol at all, you looked so… young. Like the world hadn't gotten its claws into you yet. 

your face held no expression as you looked straight ahead at me, actually it was more like you were looking through me.

 Your face looked fresh and warm, your lips looked so soft, your cheeks all rosy from the chilled air. The sweater you wore swallowed you and a few strands of hair fell into your face as you moved towards me. 

You looked serious but when I looked into your eyes I could tell you were soft. 

You were a hell of a lot younger than me that's for sure and I began to imagine how you Were before all this.

What are you like now?

Would you leave him bleeding out in the woods?

Would you be one of those chatter boxes that would rather spew bullshit than shut it? 

Have you ever killed someone?

Have you ever killed infected?

What do you sound like?

Oh shit her mouth is moving she's talking to me.

“I'm sorry what?” I say, I must look stupid, was I staring at her? You're holding out a leather strap to me and for a second I thought you were holding a hand out for me to shake, the reins dumbass, take the reins from her hand. Feeling like I've just woken up from a fever dream, I now see that you're holding the reins of two horses as well as two rifles slung onto one shoulder and your backpack on the other. 

“Your horse” you say to me lifting your brows with a weak smile, your arm still outstretched with the reins in your clutch. 

I take the worn reins, feeling how the leathers have been softened by the warmth of your hand. 

You slide one of the rifles off your should as well, handing it over to me 

“You a decent shot?” my voice came out in a low whisper, still thick with sleep. 

You let out a small huff as you readjusted your backpack and rifle before climbing onto your horse. Without saying a word you gave him a look that said hurry the fuck up and lets go. 

///

Tommy was right, you were shy.

You didn't say much, not even offering me your name. 

You seemed capable, you took the lead on the trail, you checked out the weapons, you saddled the horses, god you even packed extra food incase I forgot to bring some. 

You were prepared. 

Oh god I hope she doesn’t think I'm some useless trigger happy lug head.

You had taken the lead on everything. Normally I'm the one to prepare, I'm the stoic one, I'm the one taking the lead. God, is Jackson making me soft. 

I felt my every move was under a microscope. Like you were watching and waiting for me to fuck up. 

Every so often I could get a glimpse of your face, your soft expression, your eyes that dart back to find me, eventually you slowed your pace and walked your horse next to mine. Neither of us make an attempt at small talk. Good, can you think of anything worse than “how the weather?”, “who did you have to kill to be here?”, “ouch you lost your parents, yeah so did 80% of the people who live in jackson” bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Periodically I would see you looking at me but you never met my gaze, always turning away as if I didn't see. You made me feel… sweaty, nervous like I want you to like me.

“I want you to like me” seriously grow up Miller what are you fourteen. You've working together not in an arranged marriage. You didn't even tell me your name until we were several hours into the shift and communication became necessary. 

“Im Joel by the way”  you responded with a look that said yeah I know dumb ass.

For years I've been the quiet one, I've been the muscle, I've been the protector, I've been the lead. Now here you stand in front of me with your arms folded over your chest, cocking a brow looking extremely unamused at me. I towered over you, somehow I've never felt smaller. I felt like a side salad to a steak. I was the supporting act after years of being the main attraction. 

Patrol was uneventful, I tried to stay out of your way and when you told me to jump I asked how high. You held my gaze for a bit longer now and an odd feeling stirred in my stomach when you did. I started to notice small details on you, cuts, scares, bruises, broken finger nails, small patches on your jumper where you had mended it time and time again refusing to leave it behind. The way you adjust your backpack periodically cracking your back as you did so. I liked the way you smelt when you walked close to me or when the wind changed direction. Jasmine.

Small things. Insignificant thing that told me a lot about you.

I wonder what you noticed about me. 

///

I wanted to look at you more. Almost like I want to press pause and study you uninterrupted. That's not creepy joel.

You still held a stony expression when we approached the gates, while I felt relieved to get out of your presence I also liked the way I felt around you. 

You held your hand out to me and for the second time today i find myself zoning out and getting lost in your eyes, your expression doesn't change and oh shit she's talking again 

“Say that again” 

“The horse, Joel” 

God my name never sounded so good coming from someone's mouth.

I look down and see your hand stretched out towards me. 

“Unless you wanna hold my hand” a small smile pulls at the corner of your lips 

Oh god she smiled at me, that's so cute.

I drop the leather strap into your hand, a lazy half smile sits on my face because you smiled at me. She's starting to walk away, say something back, think of something. Anything. 

“Do you need help getting back or do you think you've got it under control?” you ask, turning over your shoulder slightly as you start towards the stables. 

“Im good” my voice cracked slightly from the lack of talking. I could be embarrassed but I'm not, the flutter of your lashes as you looked up at him, the hushed toe of your voice, the plumpness of your cheeks, I don't care how I sounded. 

As I stood watching your walk away I thought about Tommys words again.  “If she treats you like shit she really likes you” 

God, I've never wanted to be treated like shit so bad.

///

“How was it?” Tommy had asked me as he honed in on the bowl of stew, he held it close to his chest as if someone would swipe it from him if he didnt. 

“It was fine” yeah fine in the way that she doesn't even need me there and she gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. 

Tommy raised his eyes from his meal, he rested the bowl on the table with one hand cupping the warm porcelain and the other reaching out for his beer. “Really? Just fine” I've known my brother long enough to know when he's leading me. “Nothing interesting happen that you wanna tell me about?” what the fuck is he getting at?

“Yeah Tommy we had so much fun, we sang songs and picked flowers and braided each other's hair” I spat out “what are you getting at? Nothing happened” Tommys expression didn’t change at my words, the lopsided grin still smeared on his face. 

“It's just that you haven't wiped that smirk off your face since you walked in” 

“Fuck off, tommy” 

///

The next morning came and I didn’t feel as tired as I normally do, my back didn't hurt as bad as I expected it to and the ache in my head reduced to a light fog. My mind felt quiet, almost like all the shouts and screams were happening a mile down the block and not right in front of me. 

I chalk it up to patrol, having something that occupied my mind, something to keep me sharp and it definitely didn't have anything to do with you. 

Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. 

Once I made my coffee and slung the door open as quietly as I could , I returned to my spot on the porch. Once again I closed my eyes and hung my head. Absorbing the noise around me. I opened my eyes for a moment, noting the sharp bit of cold on my big toe, that holes gotten bigger. I close my eyes again. 

Music, the crunch of stone under foot, the shower running from inside the house, the neighbour walking around the second floor next door. I wonder what I'll do today, probably preparing for winter like everyone else. I should go get some food, make a nice dinner for Ellie, and I should try talking to her, make sure she's okay.

“Morning Miller” like I'm being woken from a dream, I open my eyes.

“You busy today?” how the fuck do you know where live? 

///

When you told me you were taking me out of the walls I expected it to be more or less the same as yesterday, like we were filling in a shift for someone else. Instead you walked me to the opposite end of Jackson’s gates and through some poorly secured sheet metal in the fence. I should probably report this to Tommy, this isn't a disaster waiting to happen or anything.

You handed me a pistol and not just any pistol, my pistol. the one I carried halfway across the country with and the one I reached for more times then I can count. The same one I killed with. The one that Tommy had taken from me when I arrived. Was he setting it aside for me? Did he know about your “unofficial patrol” runs? The trails look almost overgrown, like it doesn't get walked often, branches cover parts of the track and the leaves hang low from the trees overhead. Fire

I can feel the sun beaming down on my back leaving a sweat patch right between my shoulder blades and beads of sweat form along my hairline. You walk alongside me, a long sleeve shirt hangs loosely from your form, your hair pushed back behind your ears, although some pieces fall into your face. 

Today felt lighter, the cold air filled my lungs, the sun poured down on me, my pack felt lighter, the weight of the pistol on my hip felt right and the throbbing in my knees felt like no more than a tickle.   

I like the way you smell, even though you said you stank. I liked the way you looked at me, it didn't matter if you were smiling or not.  

“Why did you invite me out today?” I turned to look at you to find your eyes already on me. “Given how talkative you were yesterday” I continued “and does Tommy know we’re out here?”

I hear a laugh escape your lips and when I look over at you you're smiling at me again. The way the sunlight lights up your eyes and makes you look like you're glowing is overwhelming. You look back down at the trail. You adjust your backpack and crack your back, the same way you did yesterday. 

“You seem good, Joel” I fix my eyes back onto the track ahead of me stepping over rocks and fallen branches. “I'm sorry if I came off rude” you continue “In a world where women like me are beaten down, stolen away, used and left for dead…” you stop, eyes firmly fixed on the toe of your boot. You seem so small when the next words come out. 

“I want people to see me as a threat before they see me as anything else" 

///

“Will you walk me home?” you asked me as we approached the gates of Jackson. The possibility of spending more time with you made my heart thump in my chest, even with the ache in my back returning along with the throbbing feeling in my knee, I would walk you anywhere you wanted. Although if I get the chance another time I will make fun of you for asking. The mean little girl wants someone to walk her home. So cute. 

Our unofficial patrol ended when we found an old wood shed about a mile and a half from home. One infected. Taken out by you. We checked a trap out in the woods behind the structure that turned out to be empty. As you waltzed into the wood shed I scanned over the shelves that lined it, books scattered, pens and notepads, a pile of blankets thrown in the corner along with some clothing items, a large black drum sat next to the door, a hose running from the lid of the barrel to the roof. There was an old couch pushed up in the back corner of the shed as well. In the other shelves sat large containers, ‘STOCK’ scrawled across the front of a few of them.

Looking around the structure I soon realised that we didn't ‘find' the place, you were just coming back to it. “What the fuck is this pace?” I asked as you rummaged around in one of the boxes marked “STOCK” 

“Some of the kids call it the love shack” You looked over at me, amusement in your voice “but it's kind of like a supply station” you pull something out of the container and jam it into your bag before i can make out what it is “and yes Tommy knows all about this place” 

What's that tone? Mischief playing in your voice. Is she only saying that so I don’t tell Tommy? She's not that stupid. 

I followed you up your porch stairs taking in the exterior of your home. It's small, the front steps bow when you step on them from years or use. The paint on the weatherboards peeling and faded with time. The elements havent been kind to a lot of the homes in Jackson and I have spent a lot of time looking around thinking of all the things I would do if I had the resources. It didn't stop at my house either. Soon I was imagining renovating half the town.

Your front wire door looked like it was hanging on by a thread and one of the gutters and pipes that ran down the side of your house was all but rusted out. 

I stopped when I reached the top step, you shoved your front door open with your shoulder and knee, a practised move that I'm sure you've done hundreds of times before, knowing just the right angle to hit it at. 

Once the door swung open you shrugged off your bag and toed off your boots.

“Wait here a sec, okay?” and you disappeared into the house “I’ve got something for you” I hear you shout from somewhere inside.

I approached the front door but did not step over the threshold. Looking into your home felt like reading someone's diary or eavesdropping on a secret or walking in on someone changing. 

Books lay spread out on the ground next to the fireplace and on what he assumes is your dining table. Blankets draped over the couch and spilt out of a basket near the front door.

She told me to wait.

A day bed sits in the corner of your lounge room. A basket of yarn spilling out onto the floor along with a few half finished projects along with a tin full of sewing needles, pins, measuring tapes, scissors and a few different colours of thread. 

she didn't tell me not to come in but she also didn't invite me in.

The whole room was lit up in a soft orange glow from the afternoon sunlight pouring in from your kitchen window. It looked warm. It looked like a home. 

Why do I feel so dirty for looking. It's just her living room.

The image of you sitting here on this sofa popped into my head, a blanket wrapped up around your shoulders. Half asleep with a book in your hand while it rained.

I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just looking.

Or layed out by the fire. The dancing flames lighting up your eyes and warming your soft skin making you glow in the otherwise dark house. 

“What are you smiling about?” you asked looking up at where I stood, a hand propped up on the door jam.

“Just lookin” my palms feel sweaty. You were just checking out her house, not her ass. Calm down Miller. 

I look down at the item you extend to me. It's a bottle, the label worn and water damaged. The seal on the top has been broken and the lid has dents and scratches, it looks like it's been pasted through a few other hands before it found its way into yours. Take the bottle you moron.

“Thank you, its real nice of ya” 

The bottle was filled with an amber liquid and as soon as I opened the lid and inhaled I could tell that this bottle of, what I can only assume is homebrewed bourbon didn't come cheap and didn't come around often.

Now, I didn't know it at the time but this would be the first of many gifts that you would bestow upon Ellie and I. 

The next thing you did for me was mend my clothes, including my favourite pair of socks that I was wearing that first day we met. 

After that I would be coming over and borrowing tools because my dumb ass brother never returned mine and then you would make a joke about needing a screw or asking how big my hammer was. Then you would teach Ellie to sew ‘a skill everyone should know’ you told her.

I would come over in the next few days and clean out the gutters before the storms started to roll in. I would rip out the rotting floorboards from your front porch and replace rusty nails. You would bring me homemade meals or fresh bread to which I would invite you in and you would never decline. 

I loved how you seemed to fit into the house that was meant to be mine, but you felt like a part of you was here even after you left. You would kick off your boots leaving them alongside mine and you would throw your jacket on the hook next to mine or throw it on the back of the couch. 

I didn't know it now but soon I would be teaching you chords on the guitar and swapping books with you. 

I would happily follow you out on more unofficial patrols, sometimes we would be gone for a few days at a time trying to find supplies in dilapidated barns and old properties that had fallen victim to time and the elements. Tommy did know about these little excursions, although he didn't know about the makeshift hole in the fence. I'm sure you got a slap on the wrist for that one.   

I would be coming over to your house to drag Ellie home when she was avoiding chores or trying to dodge school.

I just didn't know yet. 

“You need me to help you get home?” a bashful smile laced your face. I couldn't tell if you were just flushed from the warmth of your home or if you were blushing. 

You pushed past me in the doorway raising an arm and pointing a finger past my shoulder down the street. 

I let my eyes follow the outstretched arm. Seven houses. Seven houses and across the street was all that separated us. Fuck

“See ya neighbour” 

As I walked home I could feel the goofy smile that hung from my lips. 

I slowed my pace, observing the bottle as I went. Chatter in the streets picked up, people started to return from assignment to rejoin their families, others turning straight to the bison in favour of a drink. I listened to the distant sound of children laughing and playing in the streets. The sounds of a neighbourhood. 

///

That was the first night I dreamt about you, it was the first night you pulled me out of a bad dream. It was the first night that I went to sleep with your face at the front of my mind. When I woke up in the middle of the night you were the first thing I thought of. When I closed my eyes and pulled my cock out of my boxers I saw you and when I started jerking myself off I saw you. Fuck i feel dirty. I couldn't stop myself even if I tried. I saw your smile and the strands of hair that stuck to your face. I pictured you laid out by your fireplace, bathed in an orange glow with my hand around your throat as you moaned my name.  

Just once, get it out of your system. She’s attractive, I'm only human. It's fine. 

I let myself imagine all the things I would do to you. Because in the morning i wouldn't think about it again

Just once

I let myself imagine your tight pussy swallowing me up. I could almost feel your hot breath on my neck. I let myself imagine you on all fours and I let myself imagine you riding me on the couch in your living room.

Just once

I let myself imagine how your pussy would taste as I ate you out and I let myself imagine how you could sound as you came on my face, on my cock, on my fingers.

“Just once” I whispered to myself before I spilled onto my hand and sheets.

[lightlycareless]

what would naoyas reaction be to finding out Satoru was y/ns first kiss?

Hello!!

Well, it would be chaos. LOL. Poor Naoya is very insecure even if it doesn't look like it 🤣 but why say this when I can show you?

warnings: fluff. a jealous naoya. satoru is a jerk? maybe. he likes to be silly. a lot. too much. also not sure if to tag this as a regular prompt or a side story, but considering that happened in my fic... i've decided to take it as a small side story.

Happy reading!

He would lose it. Even if you explained that it was nothing but a bet, curiosity getting the best of you and no feelings involved, Naoya would take this as a quick starter for his one-sided competition against Satoru.

He just had to prove how he was so much better than the Gojo heir in everything; from clothes, to cars, to what phone model he had for the moment, even the places he took you out to eat!

And naturally, Satoru wouldn’t even know what was going on, believing Naoya was simply doing whatever spoiled heirs did (never him, of course. Self-awareness is out the window) though he was curious to know what you thought of the matter, you appeared to be quite… overwhelmed by these sudden changes, surely, you’d be able to offer some insight behind all this.

Thus, after asking you to meet at a nearby café…

“You mean to say you don’t know why your husband is acting all…” Satoru scowls, failing to find the right word to describe his behavior, if there even was one…

“No, really, I don’t! I mean… sometimes he just likes to buy things! Sometimes for himself, sometimes for me, especially after a well-done mission or simply because we’ve been apart for far too long. I don’t like it when he does it impulsively, though, since I suspect he gets in trouble with his family over it…” You say. “Well, that’s a bit off topic—anyways, I don’t think he’s doing anything… differently. Why do you ask?”

“Come on, Y/N. You don’t actually believe that do you?? I’ve seen it in your eyes, you know that isn’t your typical obnoxious Naoya—”

“Don’t say that of him. And, well, I guess he’s been a bit off, but…”

“There! Now, let’s backtrack your steps, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Why does it matter so much to you? You’re the same too!” You frown.

Because he’s been far more attentive than he liked to let on; noticing that whenever he went all-out on his spending, he was around. With anyone else he was just… normal, he supposes. If that adjective could even be used on Naoya.

Or maybe because he didn’t want to take his actions as a reflection of his own. But since when did he even care what others thought of him? Might’ve been after one nasty comment from your sister…

“I’m actually more likeable but thank you for trying.” Satoru says, you roll your eyes. “Anyways, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Oh, if you really must know then I guess a few days ago?”

“And what happened then? You have to give me all the details Y/N! Don’t half-ass your story!”

“You’ll have to be nicer about it if you want me to tell you!”

“I’ll buy you any sweet you want—”

“I already have Naoya for that.”

“Then I’ll get you a copy of that game you’ve been looking for ages, deal?”

“Alright, alright.” You sigh, conceding. “…I mean, I don’t think there’s much else for me to tell you. We kind of just talk about anything that crosses our minds; make the most of our time together before he has to leave for work again, you know?”

“Ugh, that’s gross.”

“Satoru!”

“I mean—oh, poor you; anyhow, there must’ve been something you said that made him act this way! Come on, remember!”

“Well, we… we talked about wanting to go down to the city for dinner, before settling for the garden. We then laughed about something funny that happened to one of the servants, something that reminded me of that one thing I did when I was younger—with you, actually! You know which one, when I bet you a kiss—”

Oh.

OH.

And just like that, everything made sense.

“No, Satoru—I know that look, don’t even—!”

“Jealous?! Your husband’s acting like that because he’s jealous? Of me?!?” Gojo shrieked, undoubtedly having the time of his life with this revelation.

“No, he’s not! Stop it already, it’s not even funny…”

“I mean, surely you must know how he is.” He snickers. “He’s always been the competitive one, even when we were kids! I just never thought it would come to you—do you think he fears I’m going to steal you away? Or maybe—oh no, are you falling for me, Y/N??”

“What?! You need to lay off whatever it is you consume; it’s affecting your perception of reality!”

“How about it? Wanna see the limits his jealousy takes him to?” Satoru continues teasing. “Ah, he must be devastated that I took your sweet first time, do you think he has nightmares because of it? Wonders if he could ever compare to me?”

“No! Now, if you excuse me, there’s some misunderstandings I need to clear up.” You swiftly interrupt, standing up from your seat before making your way back home, back to an anxious Naoya who has been nothing but torturing himself with self-deprecating thoughts ever since you told him you were to meet Satoru. His biggest contender for your affections so it seems, the one putting his marriage in jeopardy…

But thankfully, you were there to ease all of these hurtful thoughts away, once and for all.

“Naoya… my dear, can we talk?”

“…What is it?” a pout on his face as he grumbles, side effects of his overwhelming jealousy.

“There’s a reason why you’ve done all that… compulsive spending, isn’t you?”

“No. I just do it because I want to.” He responds sternly, you sigh.

“I know why, Naoya. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” You reveal, making him tense for a quick moment before sighing too. “It was long ago, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Ugh, I know, and yet—I can’t help but feel resentful. Like I… I lost something.”

“Oh, Naoya… but that was just a silly thing I did as a child, you know?” you coo, soon wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to you. “Besides, you’ve taken something much more important from me.”

“What?”

“My heart—and that is something no one will ever win from you, not even Satoru.”

“…I truly acted like a child, haven’t I?” Naoya says, embarrassed.

“Well, I always thought you were cute when jealous, but… never to the extent of making you insecure. Less with someone as annoying as him! How could you possibly even think I liked him?” you giggle.

“I don’t know… He’s… not that bad, I guess.” He looks away, flustered.

“Yet, he’s not you, silly.” You say, standing on your tiptoes to give place a sweet kiss on the lips. His heart warms up for the first time since that day, slowly melting away all his uncertainties. “He’ll never be. Thank God! So… does this mean we can settle everything and leave all this behind?”

“Only if you show me how much better I am than Satoru…”

“Was that even disputable?” you ask, Naoya’s arms snaking around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“No, I just need a reminder—wouldn’t mind a demonstration for him too…” he teases, you frown.

“… Just one kiss, and that’s it. Nothing more. You know I don’t like it when other sees us like this.”

“Of course, you’re only mine, after all.”

Y/N to the rescue 🥺 But don't I seem to always write her reassuring him? Thankfully I do have something planned for that... a jealous Y/N that needs to be reminded of how much Naoya truly loves her :))))

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! I'm sure I've spoken about Naoya reacting to Y/N's first kiss and how it involved Satoru (unfortunately) but this time around I've decided to write a little something :> I hope you enjoyed it!

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

[theside-b]

Spoilers for the novel (and my review for the Live Action) ahead :

The boys do get together, but that act ends with their break up when people find out that Tian and Wang are romantically involved, unlike in Unknown where everyone was ok with Qian and Yuan getting together in A Certain Someone the fact that they are 'brothers' plays a huge role at that stage of their relationship and the eventual demise of their first attempt at a romance. Their break up lasts 6/7 years, don't remember exactly, but its a long time...

A lot more happens, but the show made some fundamental changes to both characters. It takes A LONG time for Tian to come to terms with his own feelings, that scene where he sees his father with another man in bed tints his whole worldview from a very young age — he develops quite the internalized homophobia; he is fine with other's queerness but it's his own that he cannot accept since he sees his father sexual orientation as the reason for the destruction of his family.

There is a tense moment between Tian and his father, where his dad says "we are more alike than you care to admit" hinting that he knows of what its happening between the boys and mind you Tian is still trying to sort out what he feels for Wang. The show sugarcoats quite a lot, novel's Tian would never initiate a kiss with Wang or even play along like he did in the show, at least not at that stage of their relationship.

Speaking of which, Wang is also different in the books. In the show he reads as pretty open minded, curious about anything and everything. In the novel he's pretty straight (at first), the journey really begins as a bromance until the feelings start to change. There is a lot of push and shove between the two of them, and is veeery slow.

The show pretty much burns bright the part where Wang tears Tian's emotional walls. Which I don't mind, otherwise it would take 50 episodes to wrap the first act. I honestly thought they were going to draw an original route for the show, but they are slowly adapting elements they left behind so they can follow the book.

Now for the review:

All in all, I think the show did a good job all things considered: production began in mainland China where Liu Dong was cast, but censorship hinders lgbtqia+ productions there so pre-production moved to Taiwan and there the rest of the casting was done. It's hard to tell how much of that interfered in the script but I assume Tian's father core plot was removed in the first draft and got re-integrated once production moved to Taiwan (Chris Lee's casting was one of the last to be announced which probably means he was also one of the last to join filming). Considering that productions like The Spirealm got pulled for much less is understandable that they would avoid the more thorny subjects under China's homophobic gaze.

(Educated guess here: considering all the publicity push, I imagine either Andy Cheng or Stan Huang were the choices for Wang, but since Liu's casting was an order from one of the financial backers they got smaller roles — it's a common move in taiwanese productions — by the way, there is a 'love triangle' later, is a sad thing since there is no-way you can split the main couple, but the show made me wonder who is going to be playing the third party in the live action).

As I always say about taiwanese shows: you have to watch the live play. The On1y One is much like it's local peers, it works wonders in small doses, but as soon as you see the whole picture you start to see the cracks. It reminded me a lot of Kiseki: Dear to Me in the sense that the main couple story is the emotional backbone, with a somber approach with brief moments of humor but everything surrounding it is slightly unhinged.

Everything that happened at that school was insane. The amount of crimes committed in the school grounds was ridiculous, the fact that Qi Jia Hao didn't ended up behind bars after ordering thugs to attack Wang and assault the english teacher is crazy. The whole side-plot involving the teachers was head-scraching by the way, much like everyone else I assumed that Zhao Xi and Benny were married when they were introduced.

Imagine my surprise finding out that not only they were not married but at one point Zhao Xi thought Benny could be interested in the english teacher (speaking of her, why the hell did she sounded dubbed? Is that not her real voice?). This whole story felt so disjointed from everything else, and it came at the tail end of the season(?), so not only it took some much suspension of disbelief for me to buy that these 40-year old gays were that emotionally impaired but also demanded patience since they spent very valuable screen time which could've benefited the main couple.

That is all to say that while I was having a blast while watching, the more I stop and think about it critically the more problems I see in this show. And again, that usually happens with taiwanese productions, experienced the same with Kiseki and Unknown, two shows that I adore, flaws and all, and now the same happens with The On1y One.

[astra-galaxie]

I decided I wanted to make one of these! Explanations of my choices can be found below!

Favourite character: Shocker! My favourite character is Diego! Who could have foreseen this coming? I've always loved Diego, and his character development is so well-written! Plus, Pretty Simple was VERY generous when designing him!😏

Liked by everyone but me: This might be a bit of a controversial take, so please don't grab the pitchforks and torches until you hear me out! I don't, nor have I ever hated Elliot; I've just never understood the hype surrounding him. He's just never appealed to me like he does for others, but he's still an interesting character.

Didn't like at first: Asal still isn't high on my list of liked characters, but I like her more than I used to. I had forgotten about the more specific aspects of her character, and when I wrote my Save The World story, I realized she was more complex than I remembered. Mainly how she was hostile towards the Bureau because she thought they were aware of Ripley's involvement with SOMBRA, and after finding out they were unaware, she seemed remorseful for her actions.

Would like to know more about: I feel like there is so much more we could have learned about Arthur. Why did he start the rebellion? Why did he become a writer? How did he manage to escape from the Demon Queen's faithful? How was he captured? So many questions that I want to know the answers to!

Least favourite character: Do I need to say anything about this one? No, seriously, do I? Because I feel like it's pretty obvious why I would hate him, given his LONG list of dirty deeds!

Like the design, dislike the character: While I might not like Morgana, I LOVE her design! Her dress is so pretty, and her hair and make suit her aesthetic! Plus, her accessories are wicked! (See what I did there?😉)

Like the character, dislike the design: Abigail is such a cool and unique character, but I wish her design was better. It just seems so simple and plain... PS could have at least given her some accessories or something instead of just a basic tank top! Someone give this ghost a makeover!

Similar personality: I connect with Evie on a spiritual level. I, too, enjoy hiding away from the real world and doing something I love. Also, I am very shy and quiet, so much so that I am constantly accidentally sneaking up on people!

Fav ship: Maddie and Charlie's love story is so good! It's the perfect friends-to-lovers story, and watching them get together made me so happy!

Least fave ship: Again, do I need to say anything? These two have ZERO chemistry beyond friendship, and their sudden "rekindled" romance made no sense. Gwen and Hope deserved to get together, and I stand by that fact!

Would befriend IRL: Luke reminds me of some of my current and old IRL friends. I think he and I would get along! I've already said that I would like to be his friend, which hasn't changed.

Would never befriend IRL: And because I had to state my dislike of Fabian somehow, this is where I'm doing it! I HATE this guy (but not as much as Horatio) and would NEVER be his friend! I'd rather drive a stake through my heart than be his friend! Whenever he came on the screen while playing S7, I would glare at him...

And that's everything! Can you tell which seasons are my favourite?😉

Again, these are just my personal opinions, so please do not gather the mob! People are allowed to like or dislike whichever characters they choose, so please be respectful of mine.✨

[remlionheart]

Anonymous asked:

PLZZZZ i beg you smoking sesh w megumi

♡‧₊˚ ask and you shall receive ✩࿐࿔ it's been a while since i've done a meg drabble and out of all of the different drugs we've explored on this page, this just made me realize that i've never written about weed lol so thank u for the suggestion this was really fun to write <333 home from college au. heavy we-shouldn't-be-doing-this trope. aged up characters. fem!reader x ((the peoples’ husband)), *⟡toxic!megumi*⟡ 3.2k words. porn with a plot. angst. degradation and praise. stoned sex. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ‎‎♡‧₊˚

❀ MDNI ❀

keep me h i g h ₊⊹

now playing: wet dreams ☾₊˚

⊹₊ ⋆✿

It'd been four months since the last time you'd seen Megumi.

Between college and the city lines that separated you, the two of you had cut almost every tie that once kept you connected. It was strange to think about sometimes - how quickly you'd gone from being the person he spent almost every weekend with to being nothing more than a fly on the wall of his social media, occasionally liking his posts but never getting anything back in return.

You tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't have been a surprise. Your relationship with him had never been easy. All throughout high-school you'd fallen into the same pattern of push and pull with him, his feelings everchanging and impossible to keep up with.

He'd kiss you in private and ignore you in public. Tell you that you were just friends and sneak through your window on the nights he didn't want to be alone. Run his hand along your back until you had fallen asleep and leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As painful as it was, a part of you had almost been relieved when things finally ended. No more pushing, no more pulling - just you and the new town you'd moved to. You and the new friends you'd made. You and your new fresh start. You still wanted the best for him despite everything, but you also wanted the best for yourself too. And deep down, you knew that didn't involve drunken hook-ups and empty words.

You hummed as you stepped out of the shower, the smell of coconut shampoo and lavender body wash dancing around you. It was unexpectedly comforting to be back home, even if it was only for a few days. Your roommates had tried to talk you out of coming back to Tokyo for fall break, but you knew you couldn't do that to your parents. You were certain there would be another time for going out and Halloween house parties.

Your room was still exactly the same as you'd left it - a mess of purple blankets on your bed and off white string-lights decorating the walls. Clothes that you'd left behind still hanging in your closet along with a stack of old journals. Tarot cards and candles and framed pictures of you and your friends sitting atop your dresser. It was nice to know that it still felt like your safe haven despite months of not seeing it.

You continued humming the same song that you'd started in the shower as you slipped on a baby-blue tank top, pairing it with your favorite silk pajama shorts. You lit a couple of candles and cracked the window open, letting crisp October air swirl through your room before turning off the overhead light and crawling into bed.

A cozy sense of nostalgia crept over you as you nestled into your bed and pulled out your phone.

Just like when you lived here, you were the only one still up after a movie had put both of your parents to sleep. You were mid-scroll, debating on what Youtube rabbit hole you wanted to go down for the night when a text popped up that immediately put you in an upright position again.

⋆｡˚ ☁️˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚ ☁️ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

You called him as soon as his last text came through, but he sent you straight to voicemail. "fushiguro," you texted frantically, "seriously", "you can't do this".

You were out of bed and on your feet before you even knew what you were doing, rushing to lock your door as you quickly realized that there was no such thing as reasoning with him.

Your life had changed in an assortment of ways since you'd left and judging by the way he texted you, he had to know that too. The last picture you posted before coming back was of you and a boy that you'd been seeing for the last month. It was mostly casual, neither one of you quite ready to put a label on what you were doing, but it still made your stomach flutter thinking about seeing Megumi when you were actively sleeping with someone else.

You dialed his number again, only to immediately hang up. Your heart suddenly lodged in your throat when you noticed that you could hear the call ringing from both inside and outside of your room.

You watched his slender fingers loop under the base of your already cracked window, stealthily pushing it up like he'd done so many times before. A sea of memories flooded over you as he pulled himself up, swiftly swooping both of his legs into your room before projecting the rest of his body forward and landing perfectly in place, hardly make a sound.

The low glow of your string-lights grazed his face, the prettiest shade of blue meeting your stare while the two of you took a moment to study the person in front of you.

"Your parents really need to invest in a better security system."

You hated the laugh that escaped you. The slight smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The way your blood still danced in your veins at just the sight of him.

So much had changed in the last four months and yet, here you both were.

"Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to critique our home safety." You whispered.

"Seems like someone should." He countered, following behind you as you took a seat on the side of the bed.

He fished a joint and a lighter out of the front pocket of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a black v-neck that accentuated his arms. He'd always been toned, but it was obvious that he'd been training a lot harder since you left - his shoulders and chest noticeably more defined than the last time you'd seen him. You'd never say it aloud given their relationship, but the older he got the more and more he seemed to resemble his dad.

"Bring your fan over here." He said, breaking your train of thought.

You nodded, staying light on your feet as you brought it over and aimed it at the window before reaching into the back of your dresser to grab an ashtray that you'd had stashed away since sophomore year. It was like no time had passed at all as you took a seat next to him again, setting the ashtray on your nightstand while he twirled the joint between his fingers.

You weren't sure why, but there was something about the way he brought it to his lips and flicked his lighter that created a dull ache at your center. Everything about him was so pretty and so nonchalant, effortlessly detached and infuriatingly nice to look at.

"Does your new boyfriend smoke?"

Your eyes instantly snapped to his, watching a plume of smoke trail felicitously from his mouth as he looked back at you. "Doesn't really look like the type who would." He added with a slight raise of his brow.

You didn't like anything about the question - from that fact that he had the audacity to ask it to his lethargic tone to the emphasis on the word "new", as if he was trying to imply that you'd been dating someone before you left.

You clicked your tongue to your cheek, letting out a huff as you snatched the joint from his lips. "You're insufferable." You repeated, drawing in a deep inhale.

The truth was, the boy you'd been seeing didn't smoke pot and you hadn't either since you'd started college, but there was no way you were admitting that to him. You took another hit, keeping your attention fixated on the window as your fan circulated the smoke out and pushed it into the night sky.

"I'll take that as a no." He whispered, his leg lightly nudging yours as he leaned over and plucked the joint from your fingers this time.

"Why are you here?" You finally asked, a sharp edge growing in your voice. "You were the one that quit talking to me, you know that right? You didn't even bother saying goodbye and then you just show up unannounced like nothing happened and ask me about my life and who I'm seeing and..." The weed was starting to hit you, your body suddenly heavy and your mind dizzy with a confusing mix of intoxication and irritation. "I just... Why? I mean, what's the point of any of this?"

A rare somber expression took over, softening his usual concrete features as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I don't know..." His gaze was glossy, his mind equally as hazy as yours. "I didn't know what to say when you left so I didn't say anything. It seemed easier that way, for both of us."

"But it wasn't –"

"I know." His demeanor was unexpectedly gentle despite how firm his tone was. "I'm sorry."

The room felt like it was spinning, his apology making something inside you ache. It was the first time in the three years you'd known him that he'd ever said it. That he'd ever actually admitted or acknowledged to hurting your feelings and even if the bar was in literal hell, it still felt good to hear those words finally leave his mouth.

"What else?" You pressed.

He took a moment to look you over, his eyes tentatively roaming along your face. “I missed you." He said honestly.

You'd never met anyone besides him who was capable of sounding so sincere and so indifferent at the same time.

"Missed your stupid laugh. Missed the way you'd always call me when you were drunk." He leaned in closer, his hand carefully taking the joint from yours as he set it on the ashtray and rested his palm on the back of your neck.

"Missed being in your room like this..." His voice dropped down to a low whisper, fanning lecherously across your skin. “Missed the feeling of you wrapped around me…”

“Megumi… we can’t…”

But you still let him close the already small gap between you anyway, his lips ghosting yours as you breathed him in. The familiar scent of false promises and expensive cologne flooding your senses.

"I know you.” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t have texted me back if you didn’t want to.”

"I –" His words were going straight to your center, the dull ache from earlier blossoming into an unignorable throb as his hand gradually trailed up your thigh. "I didn't –"

"Wouldn’t have posted that you were back in town if you didn’t want me to know…" His fingers were toying with the fabric of your shorts, methodically pushing them to the side. "Wouldn’t have left your window open if you wanted to be alone…”

Your ability to hold yourself together was threatening to buckle at any moment between the feeling of his grip tangling into your hair and his lips continuing to tortuously graze yours.

“And you definitely wouldn’t be this fucking wet if you really didn’t want me here…”

Your heart was slamming into your chest so hard you were almost afraid he'd hear it.

He kept his eyes locked with yours, watching the last bit of composure you had vanish entirely as he slipped past the thin barrier of your underwear and gained access to your weakest point.

Your movements betrayed your sentiment, a helpless whimper escaping you while your hips gravitating up towards his hand, practically begging for more.

"Look at you," he breathed, his middle finger drawing soft, heavenly circles between your thighs. "All that time without seeing each other and you still fall apart for me so easily. Why is that?"

Another heady little noise entered into the small space between you as you fought to keep your moans from getting any louder. You hadn't been this high in months. Your insides felt like they were on fire as he dipped down, just barely prodding at your entrance. But the more you tried to get from him, the more he pulled away. Unwilling to comply with your body's demands until you answered his question.

"Tell me." It was venom mixed with honey. Torment mixed with pleasure. He had you right where he wanted you - desperate and pining. Forced to give him what he wanted in exchange for what you needed. "Let me hear you fucking say it."

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, doing everything you could not to whine when the tip of his finger gently slid into you and then stopped without warning - gracing you with just enough to finally bring you to your breaking point.

"I wanted to see you." you said breathlessly, your pupils widening as you felt him push slightly deeper.

"What else?" He taunted, using your words against you.

"I wanted you – here." You yelped, your voice splitting as he sank in further.

You were delirious, ready to actually plead if that's what it took to get him to cave. "I want – fuck, Megumi, please just –"

He was half-way in, teetering on the verge of letting you have it as long as you could get the next sentence out.

"Say it."

"I want you inside me." It poured out so fast, it was barely even coherent. "I want you inside of m...e – so fu–cking bad, please."

Your chest pressed against his in an urgent daze, pulling him closer while his lips met yours - neither one of you able to withstand the tension for a second longer. His movements matched your fervency as he added another finger, finally letting your walls swallow him.

He deepened the kiss, trying his best to keep you quiet while your hips rocked rhythmically against him.

"So pretty and pitiful" he whispered, lightly nipping at your collarbone. "You're already almost there. You sure you can handle me being inside you?"

You nodded hopelessly back at him.

"I can... take – it." You struggled, feeling him smirk into your neck as his thumb brushed against your clit, drawing out even poutier noises from you. "Promise."

"Prove it."

His tongue swirled lavishly into the softness of your clavicle, leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth while his fingers continued to plunge innnn and out of you at the same heavenly pace.

"There you go." He breathed, promptly returning his lips back to yours as he felt your thighs begin to shake. "Just like that, don't fucking stop."

You hated how well he knew you. Hated how easily he was able make you clench and spasm around him. You were soaking his hand, burying your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from waking up the entire house.

"Oh, my fucking... god, Megumi –" Your nails dug into his back, your body nearly vibrating with pleasure as you grinded against him.

“It's okay, I've got you." He whispered, letting you cling onto him as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You'd always been submissive, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen you quite this needy before.

He slowly pulled out of you, guiding you down to the bed before standing up to grab the joint out of the ashtray, lighting it one last time.

He leaned down, locking eyes with you while gently cupping your face. His lips just barely touching yours so that you were forced to share the same breath, allowing you to inhale the smoke he exhaled as he helped you out of your shorts.

"Such a good girl."

Your back arched, immediately wanting him back where he was as he got to his feet and set the spliff on your nightstand. You watched him intently, your core throbbing while he began to unbutton his pants. You were blissfully high, your mind swirling with sleepy infatuation and pent-up lust.

He almost seeming amused, noticing how entranced you were as his stripped out of his boxers. Tauntingly stroking himself while he used his free hand to push your both of your thighs onto the mattress so that you were on your back facing him with your legs folded to the side. You couldn’t help but smile as he rubbed his tip between your folds, letting out a low groan as he wetted himself with your slick.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

Your hand tangled into the sheets, your body reeling from the way his tip was already stretching you.

"You gotta stay quiet for me." He reminded you, trying to heed his own advice as he slid in slightly further. “Pretty sure your dad will actually kill me if he catches me here again."

"So you want me to scream?" You smirked, but your sarcasm was quickly stolen from you.

He cocked an eyebrow at you before leaning back down, his voice becoming salacious static against your ear. "Don't make threats you can't keep."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your cunt pulsating as he put a hand over your mouth and thrusted into you.

He returned your smirk. Watching your pupils double in size as he nipped at your neck, muffling your moans with his palm.

"It's not easy for me either." He whispered - one hand still on your mouth, the other reaching for your center. "Being this deep in you and not being able to hear you say my name."

Your knuckles were almost white from how hard you were gripping the bed, your mind and body both completely overwhelmed by fucked-out euphoria.

"To have you wrapped this nice and tight around my cock without getting to hear all the cute little noises you make for me." He slammed into you, his rhythm blissfully unforgiving.

"You think that's what I want?"

You shook your head, his hand catching more carnal whimpers that were trying so hard to spill out of you as your hips bucked up against his.

The feeling of him playing with your clit while having you folded like this was almost too much to handle. You were lost - floating somewhere above cloud 9 with his thrusts only ascending you higher.

"What do you think I want to hear, baby? Hm?" His tone was condescendingly sweet. Mocking in a way that made your heart stutter and your walls contract. "Tell me."

He loosened his grasp on you, nearly bottoming out as his name echoed uncontrollably across the room. "Megumi ~” You whined again, completely forgetting your surroundings. "Megumi, fuck, you're gonna make me –"

Your climax laced through his fingers as his hand swiftly flew back over your mouth. His arms keeping you locked in place while your body writhed beneath his.

“There it is”, He praised, his tip kissing your cervix at just the right angle. “There’s my fucking – girl.” His head lolled back, his release following right behind yours.

He buried his head into your shoulder this time, letting out the most gorgeous, guttural sounds you'd ever heard as he filled you - not stopping until he could see his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out carefully, taking a moment to admire his work while a mixture of fluids leaked onto your comforter.

“Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. "Do me a favor when you get back."

You were still catching your breath, dizzy from overstimulation as you met his gaze. "What do you need?” You panted.

"Tell your new boyfriend I said 'thanks'."

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching a stupid smirk cut across his face while he slid his pants back on. “If he would've known how to fuck you right, I might not have gotten the chance to see you."

"You're insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

⋆｡˚ ☁️ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[tiredandoptimistic]

As someone who likes a lot of "bad" media, or media that starts out kinda slow but builds into a bigger plot over time, I see so many different opinions on what bits are "okay" to skip in order to get to the good part, and it's just wild to me. Bouncing around between the highlights doesn't actually give you the experience, and filler is so important when it comes to just...creating a vibe and building up the relationships between characters and with the audience.

For instance, Red vs Blue is probably my favorite show (ever, of all time), and while I will admit that the first five seasons are not my favorite, I still think they're essential to the show, because those five years of relatively low stakes adventures set the tone so that it can be upset by the bigger plot points. The impact of a big twist is reduced if you haven't spent the time to get invested in these characters when they're just hanging out and being silly. Most importantly though, even once the plot really gets going in season six and we get into the more serious Freelancer and Chorus arcs, Red vs Blue is still fundamentally about a bunch of idiots standing around and talking. If you have to force yourself to put up with the majority of the show, then you might just not like this show.

I was talking about this with my friend, and they said it's kinda the same thing with Homestuck. Yes, it does get "better" as time goes on, but it's still the same thing it's always been, and if that's not something you enjoy then skipping to the bits you do like won't change what it is.

Or like, I freaking love The Order of the Stick, and last year I reread it from the beginning for the first time in a while, and I half convinced myself that I'd just made up how good it is (because volume one is funny enough but nothing to write home about). However, I hit a certain point where I realized that I wasn't just reading out of a sense of obligation but because I adore these characters and am unspeakably invested in this plot. You can really tell that it's been a story happening over the course of 20+ years, you can see the writing and art improve dramatically as time goes on. I could just recommend that someone start with volume two or three, and summarize the plot up till then so they don't feel lost. However! That would rob them of the experience you get from watching these characters grow. You can't fully appreciate Belkar's arc in volume six if you didn't see what he was like on day one, y'know?

On another note, I love the Shadowhunters Chronicles, and I know that a lot of people will give The Mortal Instruments shit and call it the worst series or whatever, but those people just hate fun. Yeah, there are other series that might have stronger plots and better writing, but there's a reason that TMI's main characters have been iconic for years. Sometimes, things are just silly, and if you don't like that then you're not gonna have a good time here.

I could go on! I also like a lot of episodic shows like MASH, Community, Tangled: the Series, the whole DC animated universe, Supernatural, etc. I could come up with lists of my favorite episodes to try to hook somebody, but all of those episodes lose a lot of their impact when taken out of context. Skipping the filler doesn't give you the ultimate experience of Only The Best, it takes away your chance to fully spend time with these characters in a variety of settings. And sure, lots of shows with multiple writers do have some episodes that are just bad, but that's not what I'm talking about. There's a difference between something being bad and something being low-stakes. Maybe you personally don't enjoy things that are low-stakes, but that might just mean you shouldn't be watching a sitcom.

So yeah, this has been an excuse for me to rant about things I enjoy for a while but I'm sorta out of time and need to eat lunch, so I suppose this post has reached its conclusion. All my favorite media are my favorite for reasons I couldn't articulate in an elevator pitch, and putting together a highlight reel will never substitute for truly being in the trenches. If you're truly having a good time with something then you won't need to skip to the good part, because the whole thing is enjoyable.

[echoesofwisdomcountup]

2 Days Since Echoes of Wisdom Release. I return with more info about my play through. Again, I haven't done more than the first rift and shown up in Gerudo town.

I finally get to the King and Hello???? Minister Lefte and General Wright. Nintendo gtfo. You didn't make their names Left and Right. That's so stupid. I kinda love it.

The way I gasped. I was like wait a minute hold on. I was prepared for puppet Link, nOt puppet anyone who falls in the rift. That's terrifying. Who's real and who's a fake... Tri makes an imposter joke btw. Says something like hmm imposters...that's a funny word. Nintendo couldn't resist the a little among us reference.

I love the way Tri sounds. The little sighs and trills. Also the text effect is sick. I love that they made it all wavy and glowy. It immediately draws your eye.

Oh y'all just have a goddess statue in the basement. Cool. Cool. Also tell me why the horse statue immediately made me think of that one park in Botw/Totk. Nintendo has Zelda change her clothes behind the statue too. Unsubtle.

Is that about the dress or the cloak Zelda. Are you saying Link's cloak smells like a musty dresser (┬┬﹏┬┬). Anyway, she looks cute. First outfit change (i haven't gotten anymore, yet). Impa kicked ass. She's cool as usual.

I FOUND LINK'S HOUSE. It's totally his house. Look at the hat on his bed and the green sheets with the triangle. He left in a hurry cause he didn't even make his bed. I love that he has a stuffed Kaepora. Plus he has what looks like magic potion bottles or olive oil, who knows. I also think it's interesting that there's a cobweb in the corner. He hasn't been back in some time or else didn't have time to clean. Makes sense. I broke his pots for him. He would've wanted me too.

Ok. That's it for today. I leave off with analyzing Link's house. It's really fun to me that we're getting to discover things about this version of Link along with Zelda. There was particular bit of information that had me screaming with joy. But I'll get to that another day.

[vro0m]

Do you think people immediately jump to conspiracy theories because we're just not used to seeing Lewis struggling with a car/not winning? Or is it more a nature of 2024 social media (or a combo of both).

Thank you so much for calling out the bullshit though, I was starting to feel like the only well-balanced Lewis fan on my dash.

I don't know these things are multifactorial and very complicated. Here are some factors I think may play into it from the top of my head.

Lewis has been pinned the victim since ad21 (imo rightfully) and I think some people are struggling to move past that. Now everything that happens that doesn't go his way is just a confirmation that people have it out for him. It made some level of sense early on (we saw how the sport at large reacted to the idea of his 8th title in dts in particular and many of them didn't make it a secret that they would rather he didn't win it) and now it's becoming harder and harder to find him a bully as we move away from the original event and so it's becoming more and more absurd. It was Masi's fault and then Max's and then George's and then Toto's and then the team's in general and now it's his own mechanics and engineers' or whatever... We're five minutes away from people saying Bono himself is sabotaging him. (Actually nevermind we're already past that he's been accused of not giving him the info he needed that one time George changed startegy or something like that.)

I do also see it as a trend for fans in general to try to make up story lines even when there might not be any. That might be in part due to dts but more generally to the fact that I believe a lot of people are watching F1 like a show rather than like a sport. Like I once said, this isn't Hollywood, stories in real life rarely wrap up definitively and prettily with a bow on top, there's no such thing as redemption arc, and because your fav has been done dirty at some point doesn't mean he's necessarily gonna come out on top afterwards to balance it out. There's no such thing as deserving a win or deserving a good car or deserving a proper farewell. Because it's not a story. It's reality. And reality is messy. But a lot of fans will rather weave a plot together to try to make it make sense to themselves and try to find that happy ending at all cost or try to explain why it's not a happy ending in any possible way that has a narrative rather than accepting that that's life at the end of the day. Which is human to some extent and we all do the same thing with our daily lives btw. It's a normal coping mechanism to put events together into something that resembles a coherent story even when that implies disregarding some parts of said events to make them fit together like we want them to.

I think a lot of Lewis fans (including me) are very frustrated with the way things have gone because it's truly annoying and it makes us more prompt to point fingers and try to make the problem simpler than it is by pinning it on someone or something specific because it's just easier to deal with that way than admit that F1 just like the real life that it is, is fucking complicated and "unfair" (in that no guaranteed happy ending way I described earlier).

And honestly that's fine I too vent my frustration during races and jump on things that make me tick and only afterwards think them through but the fact that Lewis has to make such a post to tell people that no, his team isn't sabotaging him, and that yes, he did relent to their tyre suggestion, shows that's it's been indubitably been taken way too far for everyone's comfort and his own first and foremost. And that's just honestly kinda embarrassing for us all imo.

[docholligay]

Bozeman Half Marathon 2024

The race starts at 8. The shuttle drops us off at 6:55. 

There was a little bit of fucking around too close to start time, so we ended up in the back of the pack. As I break over the start line, it’s immediately clear to me that I am behind people who are shooting for a 2:30 or more time, which is so beautiful and hope they had the best time but all of my encouragements to newer or slower runners immediately die away in a wave of “get the fuck out of my way.” I have never bobbed and weaved as I did here, and I get afraid that I’ll lose my pacer, because I am trying so hard to just get get out of the fracas. 

Mile 3. I call out, “What are we sitting at?” “9:05” comes the answer. I’ve been fucking around too much, and make a breakaway in between two runners in front of me. I’ve got to hit harder than this. 

My pacer grabs his stomach and steps off to the side. 

You’re a beautiful person, but this ain’t ‘nam, and I’m leaving your ass. I will buy you a drink later, salutations and good luck. 

I actually start running faster at this point--i hadn’t realized how much I was holding back because I sensed he was struggling and I didn’t want to leave him in the dust. I need something to pace me. My stryd isn’t connecting, i don’t even have a timer watch, and I didn’t set my music to time me like I usually do, until the tornado siren. There are two girls in matching outfits, including pink banana shorts. They’re the ones. They look fast. 

If it were not for them, I don’t know that I would have been able to get it back, because they got me into a rhythm of running about a 8:30 mile for two miles, which gave me a huge cushion. Mile 4 and 5 were entirely on their pink-festooned backs. They stopped for water mid Mile 6, and i kept going. 

Mile 7: What the fuck have I done wrong in my life, and why is it being visited upon me, the sweetest and most innocent of human beings, right now? There is a long, slow, plodding hill. 

There is a moment, in every race I have ever run, called, “What the fuck is my problem?” It is very important to get over the ‘What the fuck is my problem?” hump, because it is my own personal Jesus being tempted by Satan in the desert, with the idea of walking and giving up. Why would I, a sane woman with a loving family, think about running 13 miles and change full send? Did I think that would be fun? What about my life up to that point made me think it would be fun?

We have to attack this little demon inside us. We can always doubt the wisdom of our decisions later, but for now, the only way out is through, and my only reward for slowing down is that I have to be on the course longer. 

I round the corner, no longer on the hill, and then from behind me, the sound of a truck, and a voice I ahven’t heard in a while: 

“C’mon Doc, let’s fuckin go! It ain’t that far!” I look to my left, and it’s my buddy Jake! I haven’t seen him in a couple years, and he must have figured out it was me by sheer chance of “I bet that little red headed dyke in the unicorn shorts is Doc. She loves to run” and he is correct! He bangs twice on the side of his BLM truck, laughs, revs his engine at me, and drives on down the course. 

This carries me for a solid two miles. If your family has been in Montana for as long as both of ours have, it’s hard to hide from each other. Do i want to come across as a little bitch to Jake? Do i want to tell him it was just too fucking hard? Fuck no. 

The Tracer voice inside me, “What’s the worst that could ‘appen? Push it!” “We die?” “Not a problem we’d ave to deal with!” 

I push. I go. I fly through the cross country kids handing out water. I’m trying to pace myself beside runners just a little ahead of me, runners that look fast and also infuriatingly casual in their matching banana shorts and pink tank tops. They hold me on for the next few miles, but as they start into their negative splits (Unfortunately, they not only look fast, they are fast) they begin to leave me behind. 

I have heard the half marathon called “10 decent miles and then the worst 5k of your life” and for me, at the very least, that seems to hold true. I am getting exhausted by the time I hit mile ten, and my form is falling apart. I like like one of those inflatable noodle men, running down the street, limbs flopping. My body is swinging wildly, which is costing me energy, but I can’t stop myself. I’m getting tired mentally and physically. 

In  the middle of mile 11, I hit a pothole. I’m not watching what I’m doing, my foot goes directly onto the lip of the pothole and I go careening forward. I know it’s a cliche to say things happen in slow motion, but I swear it must have taken me ten seconds to fall. I had time to think about how I absolutely did not want to hurt my knee, so I, with a reasonable amount of stupidity, put my arm out straight, which keen-eyed viwers will note is a great way to break your wrist. I didn’t, so, unearned victory for me, but I slammed down hard into the asphalt, and threw myself onto my hip. 

A struggled for a minute, and then, as I held up my hand to stand, someone grabs it, without breaking his stride at all, and yanks me to my feet. 

“We’re fucking doing this!” he yells to me. 

And then he continues on. I could have given up, and my pride and my time are badly hurt, but having that moment gives it all back to me. I might not be able to run this in time, but I can run it to the end, and not give up. Giving up isn’t what I do. 

Unfortunately, to be the people we tell ourselves we are, we have to make the choices that make us those people. If I am a runner, who doesn’t give up. I need to both run, and not give up. Annoying. 

So I keep on. By the time we reach the city proper, I am in mile 12 of 13, and I am well and truly suffering. It hurts so bad, and I want to stop, but I can’t stop, because I am so close, and how much would I hate myself to run all this way and give up now? I can’t walk. I have to keep going. 

The tornado siren goes off in my ear. I have ten minutes to cross the finish line before losing my goal. I haven’t hit the final mile yet. This is bad. But the only way to get there faster, is to run faster. I have no idea what I drew on in that moment. But I find something deep inside me, and I yank it out and throw it on the road. 

I go down the final pull, praying, waiting for the final turn, where I can see the finish line. That always gives me something more, sets off a firework inside me. 

There’s a gal with a sign by the side of the road that says, “ ***ing finish so we can drink!” and, again, it is only through the encouragement of strangers that I have made it through this race at all. I point at her sign and smile, and she yells to me, “You know what I’m talking about! Fuck yeah! Go! Go!” 

This last mile is one of the hardest of my life. I just keep having to chant, ‘Right, left, repeat. Right, left, repeat.” 

The final turn! I can see the finish line, I only have to run three more stoplights before I make it. I can do it. I kick on the afterburner. I am so close. I’m almost there. 

My heart falls when I see the timer. 1:57:40. I’ve already failed. There’s no way I can cross the finish line in 15 seconds. Or can’t I? Fuck it, whatever, I will maybe not make it, but I will run as hard as I can. My hip is screaming, my form is the worst it has ever been, and I don’t care about absolutely fucking any of that, because if I cross even one second under, I will have made PR. 

I go. 

I cross the finish line, wobbling, half limping, about to throw up. I’ve made my time goal by about 3 seconds. Great. That’s enough. The guy giving out the medals is nice enough to come over and put it on my neck, because I look like I’m suffering as much as I am. The text comes through. 

I COMPLETELY FORGOT IT TOOK ME NEARLY A MINUTE TO CROSS THE START LINE. I have made my time by a full goddamn MINUTE. My joy is total. I would jump up and down screaming but I do not have even the slightest amount of energy for any of that. I have a can of champagne in my drop bag, and I am going to go get that, and crush it. 

Someday, I’ll stop setting PR, but today is not that day.

Video evidence of my extremely bad finish: You can tell how much I'm favoring my hip, which is making me swing my body WILDLY.

[littlewrensx]

@spiritusmuses

"Morning." Tanya called to her best friend and her boyfriend as they came in. "Bring your Seal to work day? No one told me the memo. I would've kidnapped one." She teased the couple. Wren chuckled softly, moving behind the counter to turn on the ipad they used for their cash register. "He's dropping me off and bringing sweets to work." Luckily she'd actually be able to see him tonight for dinner. It was a nice feeling after living without him for three months. Tanya nodded, eyeing her best friend. There was something about her that seemed off, but she couldn't figure it out. "Wren? Are you okay?" She asked softly, putting her hand on her shoulder. Wren looked at her. "What? I'm fine." Turning to her man. "I'll be right back with those goods, babe." Sneaking out back to grab the day old pastries she promised he could bring to work for the team. Tanya watched Wren walk away, before turning to Nolan. "Why did you have to break her heart? She was so excited for you to come home so she could surprise you."

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[deoidesign]

vampire and werewolf sitting in a tree

time trav e l i n g

first comes. trying to kill eachother then comes... learning you're his dead ex-lover then comes marriage!

(you can buy the book this scene is from for $15 it's really good. it's the fan favorite of the series!)