#and how simultaneously freeing and suffocating that can be

[lepetitchemin]

y’all i am so tired of incorrect interpretations

if i see one more person say that dancing with our hands tied is about bondage i’m going to kms

[ghoulsbounty]

Hi! I wanted to request a TH/fem reader and RZMM/fem reader

Maybe like a how would they show possessiveness over someone? A little angsty bc they're big guys and they would definitely manhandle their so in the heat of the moment

How Thomas Hewitt and RZ!Michael Myers Show Possessiveness Over You

Warnings: smut (18+), aggressive sex, slight mention of dumbification, manhandling, bruising/mark making, angst, obsession, stripping, stalking, slight yandere i guess?, possessiveness, canon-typical violence, control.

Words: 2.7K

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for my first slasher request! I love these boys so much and wanted to delve into their intentions behind their protectiveness a little, cause I think it would be very different for both. This is my first time writing a headcanon, I hope I've done you proud. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Thomas Hewitt

→ Thomas's struggle with social norms makes his possessiveness glaringly apparent. He perceives everyone outside the family as a potential threat to his happiness, particularly when it concerns you. His demeanour shifts abruptly at the slightest hint of danger; his typically measured movements become swift and aggressive. Despite his efforts to restrain his emotions in public, such as at the Cele Community Centre where you and his mother work, Thomas often finds himself instinctively drawn to your side. His hand firmly grasps the fabric of your shirt, his protective stance evident to anyone who dares to look at you. His gaze sweeps the surroundings with a discerning eye, meticulously assessing each customer until you gently remove his grip and convince him to wait in the back.

→ Thomas's overprotectiveness occasionally acts as a double-edged sword, simultaneously shielding you from harm while subtly restricting your freedom. As a man of few words, he struggles to articulate the depth of his need to keep you safe, resulting in actions that may be misinterpreted as possessiveness rather than genuine concern or fear of losing you. He means well, but it can feel suffocating.

→ Preferring to keep you within his line of sight whenever possible, Thomas's protective instincts often clash with the demands of daily life, leading to occasional conflicts with Charlie over the use of his time. The older man's frustration with what he perceives as your bad influence over Thomas' attention to his work further exacerbates tensions within the household. 

→ Certain areas of the house are off limits to you. The basement serves as a sanctuary for Thomas's work, and he is adamant that you are shielded from the horrors that happen inside. However, he still insists on your presence nearby, perched on the steps that lead down to the space or listening to the radio in the dining room upstairs. Your proximity seems to offer him a sense of security and focus, enabling him to delve into his his task with unwavering concentration and produce some of his best work.

→ Thomas finds solace in words of affirmation and constantly seeks reassurance from you. Despite the intimacy you share and the countless times you've assured him otherwise, he harbours an unshakeable fear that if he loosens his grip even for a moment, you might slip away from him. This nagging insecurity gnaws at him, overshadowing moments of connection, leaving him perpetually haunted by the possibility of losing you.

→ Physical gestures become one your languages of reassurance. You hold his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers as a silent promise that you're there for him. Running your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you becomes a comforting ritual, soothing both him and you. Your touch on his chest, just over his heart, keeps his anxieties at bay.

→ Words also become a source of comfort for Thomas. You express your pride in him, highlighting his strengths and the ways he makes your life better. You tell him how happy you are to have him by your side, emphasizing that he's not just your protector but also your partner. Sometimes, the simplest affirmations have the greatest impact on Thomas. Hearing you call him "yours" fills him with a sense of belonging and purpose, and when you tell him that he's been good, he can't help but prove just how good he can be by filling you with his fingers, tongue or cock.

→ Thomas feels most valued when you grant him your undivided attention and allow him to reciprocate. He revels in spending hours between your legs, skilfully coaxing orgasm after orgasm from your willing body until you're left a whimpering, trembling mess beneath him. Despite his efforts to maintain control in your relationship, you always seem to hold the upper hand, which is why he finds solace in reducing you to a thoroughly fucked-out state on his bed. In those moments, with your mind blissfully empty and your body consumed by a primal hunger for his touch, he feels a sense of power and satisfaction unlike any other.

→ Despite this, the mounting tensions within the household, particularly with Charlie, often leave Thomas grappling with pent-up aggression. As the demands on his time intensify, with Charlie clamouring for more of Thomas's attention and you taking on additional shifts at the community centre to assist his mother, Thomas finds it increasingly challenging to maintain his composure.

→ You've become attuned to the subtle shifts in his demeanour, recognizing the tell-tale signs when he's received a stern tongue lashing from his uncle or had a particularly taxing session in the basement. Thomas' simmering rage begins to permeate his interactions with you. His touch, once tender and reassuring, now carries an undercurrent of tension. The few words he mutters in your presence are laced with frustration and discontent, rather than devotion.

→ Despite your best efforts to sooth him, there are moments when Thomas's volatile emotions threaten to overwhelm him. In those instances, you find yourself walking on eggshells, navigating the precarious balance between offering solace and inadvertently stoking the flames of his anger. You are never fearful of Thomas, but these are the times when you remove yourself from his presence when possible. That is, until you learn that the best way to calm him during these storms is with your body.

→ Thomas's heavy-handed nature becomes even more pronounced during these moments of heightened emotion. He handles you with a forcefulness that borders on brutality, moulding and contorting your body into painful positions that elicit tears of discomfort. While he typically refrains from spanking you unless requested, in these instances, his large hand comes crashing down upon your flesh with punishing force, leaving behind welts and bruises that you carry for days.��Unlike his usual attentiveness to your pleasure, Thomas's focus shifts solely towards finding an outlet for his frustration, using your body as a means to an end in his quest for release. He bites, scratches, and fucks every inch of you with an almost desperate intensity, seeking solace in the physical connection between you.

→ Yet, there are fleeting moments of clarity when the clouds in his eyes dissipate, and the gentle giant you know and love re-emerges. It's in these moments of vulnerability that you offer him comfort, reassuring him that he can take what he needs from you, and that you will still love him.

→ After the intensity of the moment subsides, Thomas retreats into the solitude of the basement, locking himself away as a form of self-imposed punishment for his mistreatment of you. Despite your efforts to coax him out, reassuring him of your well-being and offering comfort, he remains secluded until he feels ready to face you once more. When Thomas finally does emerge, you're quick to envelop him in the warmth of your affection and reassurance. With a soft kiss to his leather-clad cheek, you convey your unwavering support and understanding, letting him know that you harbour no resentment towards him.

→ In the aftermath of the encounter, Thomas's protective instincts kick into overdrive as he tends to any wounds that adorn your body, his touch gentle yet purposeful. It's in these moments that his true nature shines through—he may be heavy-handed and prone to bouts of aggression, but above all else, he possesses a deep-seated desire to care for and protect you, to make amends for any harm he may have caused.

RZ!Michael Myers

→ Michael's possessive nature over you begins with an intense and inexplicable fixation. From the moment his eyes land on you, something primal within him snaps, and he becomes singularly obsessed with making you his own.

→ He can't quite explain what draws him to the Red Rabbit Lounge that evening, but as he leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath after a harrowing escape from Smith's Grove, he is immediately captivated when you emerge from the back door. Unlike others who shrink away from him in fear, you meet his gaze with a calm demeanour, lighting your cigarette and casually pointing out his papier-mâché mask. Your nonchalant remark about liking the orange because it reminds you of your favourite holiday only adds to the intrigue, sparking something deep within Michael's psyche.

→ Following that initial encounter, Michael becomes an omnipresent presence in your life, a shadow that lingers at the edges of your awareness. You sense him in the periphery of your vision, catch glimpses of his shadow darting past windows, and hear the faintest rustle of his breath in the stillness of the night. He becomes your unseen companion, meticulously observing your every move. He studies your routines and habits, committing them to memory with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Always one step ahead, he waits patiently until the opportune moment presents itself to make his presence truly known.

→ Michael finds immense pleasure in the exhilarating pursuit of you, convinced that you share in his enjoyment of the chase. He keenly observes the subtle signs of your awareness, noticing the wry smirk that graces your lips when you sense his presence nearby. In those moments, he imagines feeling the same giddiness that surges through you when he lightly brushes your hair, a fleeting touch that leaves you yearning for more, even as it vanishes before you can turn around. The first time you called out to him, he battled against every instinct urging him to step out from the shadows and claim you as his own. Despite the overwhelming desire possess you, he restrains himself, savouring the anticipation of the inevitable moment when he would finally make his move.

→ In Michael's twisted psyche, you are more than just a person; you are a coveted prize that he will protect at all costs. He perceives himself as the sole rightful owner of your being, and he harbours an intense fixation on claiming you as his own.

→ As the regular patrons of the lounge mysteriously vanish one by one, leaving a bewildered community in their wake, Michael remains a silent observer, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon you. He knows all too well the allure of your presence, the captivating dance you perform for these men, reminiscent of the performances his late mother once gave. Yet, while others may see you as an entertainer, Michael sees something far deeper—a connection, a possession, a symbol of his ultimate dominance that he must preserve.

→ From the shadows, he watches as you bare your body to these patrons. To Michael, it doesn't matter whether you are aware of his claim over you; what matters is that he sees you as his, and he will go to any lengths to ensure that no one dares to challenge him. In his mind, you are his alone, and he will stop at nothing to secure what he believes is rightfully his.

→ When Michael finally decides to collect his prize, it's in the eerie stillness of the night. He patiently waits in the shadows of your home, a silent sentinel standing rigidly in the corner of your bedroom as he observes your every move. You can feel his presence, an unspoken acknowledgment that he has come to stake his claim on his property.

→ As you undress, acutely aware of his watchful gaze, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a palpable tension in the air, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. Yet, despite the unease that courses through you, there's also a strange allure, a primal instinct drawing you inexorably towards him. When you finally coax him from the shadows, he engulfs you in his arms with a ferocity that takes your breath away. The force of his embrace is suffocating, his touch demanding as he grasps and claws at every part of your body. In that moment, there's no denying the intensity of his desire, the need to make you his own consuming him entirely.

→ Michael is not gentle with you; he doesn't hold back his deep urges to possess you completely. He revels in your whimpers and the screams of his name as he stretches you open and takes what he deems rightfully his. His touch is rough, unyielding, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Each movement is driven by a fierce need to mark you, to ensure you understand that you belong to him and no one else. Every night with Michael is filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes intense and unwavering, remain locked on you, drinking in every reaction, every cry. To him, this is the final step in owning you, the ultimate act of protecting what is his.

→  Removing the mask takes time. It's one evening, after the intensity of your shared orgasms have ebbed, and Michael lies heavy on top of you. Your fingers tentatively trace the edges of the white rubber mask, sensing his body tense beneath your touch. His hand instinctively reaches out, grasping your wrist to halt your movement, but your lips find solace in the warmth of his knuckles as you plant a gentle kiss, your breath whispering a desire to see him. For a fleeting moment, there's resistance, a hesitancy borne from years of concealing his true self, before he lets you unmask him. His long hair cascades over your face as the mask falls away, revealing the man beneath. In that vulnerable moment, you stroke his sweat-glistened cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his features as you call him "handsome", perhaps the first time he's heard the word since his mother.

→ Despite Michael's disapproval of your continued work at the lounge, you are unwilling to relinquish your independence completely. He grumbles and fumes when things don't go his way, but deep down, he appreciates your defiance, feels a strange allure in your willingness to challenge him. Although his overly protective nature remains, he secretly enjoys the way you push back against his control, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in the game of give and take between you. A hand on his chest or a kiss along his strong jawline is all it takes for him to soften, his resolve melting under the warmth of your affection. You eventually compromise, only working certain shifts and allowing him to escort you home. As if you really have a choice on the matter. Michael finds your attempts at negotiation endearing.

→ If anyone dares to come between Michael and what is his, he reacts with violent outbursts of rage. His attacks are brutal and merciless, driven by a primal need to assert his dominance and protect you. Unfortunately, you are also not exempt from his aggression, and when he catches sight of you one night, engaged in conversation with a stranger outside the back of the lounge during your smoke break, he snaps. In a frenzy of fury, he swiftly disposes of the man, his actions marked by a sickening crunch of bones as his body is hurled against the brick wall. Then, turning his attention to you, Michael's muscles coil with tension and his chest heaves with barely-contained anger. Gripping your arms so fiercely that bruises bloom in their wake, he shoves you against the wall, once, then again, as if attempting to jolt some some sense into you.

→ With swift determination, Michael hoists you over his shoulder and retreats into the shadows, his purposeful strides carrying you home. But the journey doesn't lead to the bedroom; instead, he deposits you onto the stairs with a roughness that steals your breath. There, in the dim light, he strips away the remnants of your clothing, his actions forceful and unyielding. Again and again, he fucks into you with a ferocity that leaves you screaming his name, your pleas mingling with the echoes of both passion and pain. In those moments, as his protectiveness gives way to possession and consumes you, you find yourself uttering the words he craves to hear—that you are his, and his alone.

→ Yet, even amidst the ecstasy, a shadow of uncertainty looms. You can never be certain that Michael wouldn't cross that final line, that his compulsion wouldn't drive him to take everything from you, including your life. For Michael, protection is not just about control—it's about ownership to the point of obsession. If he can't have you, no one else can either.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

UR...SMUT...IS...AMAZING... COULD YOU DO headcans of 141 and Kõnig and their fave sex positions? Thanks!

Hehe, thank you! I'm not super confident with it, but I appreciate all the support and compliments!🩷🩵

Added a little extra to this one!!! Did a general hc!

141 + König Favorite Sex Positions/ How They Enjoy Sex

Warnings: sexual references, swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

MISSIONARY!!!!!!!

Simon's not a particularly rough lover, especially given his traumatic past, so to him, there's nothing better than being on top of you and taking this slow

That's not to say this man doesn't go HAM on you sometimes. If he gets horny enough, or stressed enough, this man will POUND you into the mattress

Huge fan of eye contact during missionary, too

He doesn't get too experimental, but he'll try just about anything if you ask

He's a giver 100% and loves to go down on you

He'll very rarely ask you to go down on him, but won't ever say no if you offer

He's primarily the dominant partner in bed but will let you take control every so often

Takes sex seriously, and before you, I honestly don't think he was one to just sleep around

NOT a fan of quickies. Liles to draw the pleasure out for both of you for as long as he can

Gets HORRIBLY embarrassed if he cums too quick if it's been awhile since you two had sex, and will make it up to you 10 times over

König-

YOU ON TOP!!!!!!!

König is very conscious about his size and has fears he may crush you in bed, so he prefers if you're on top

If you get too tired, or don't want to be on top, he'll pull you to the edge of the bed while you're on your back, so he can fuck you while he's standing

Took you two while to have sex for the first time, I stan this man was a virgin before you, and he was very nervous

If he's feeling particularly kinky, he'll carry you so your legs wrap around his waist, while he fucks up into you (preferably in the shower)

Man has a raging size kink

LOVES giving and receiving oral. Let's just say he's very skilled with his mouth

You are the dom in bed. Again Königs always worried he'll crush you, so you have to take the lead

Constantly reassures you that you're doing well, that you're beautiful, and that he loves you

Makes you feel so good about yourself, both in physical and emotion ways

Man will NOT let himself cum until you do first. And if he happens to cum before you, he'll apologize profusely

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Literally any position, just please fuck this man

If he HAD to choose, mating press is probably his favorite

LOVES the way you feel, squeezing around his cock while he's pushing your legs against your head

Is totally up for trying new positions. In fact, he probably looks some up in his free time that he wants to try

Also, it isn't opposed to toys. He prefers to get you off on his own, but he won't protest if you want to add in something extra

If he ever goes down on you, it's with you sitting on his face. He loves being suffocated by you

One of his kinks is role-playing, and if it's something you're into as well? Oh boy

Be prepared to laugh during sex with him. He doesn't take it too seriously and just wants to have fun with it

When he does take sex seriously, it's usually a very loving affair. He'll be overly gentle as he whispers sweet words in your ears

Overall, he's a very fun partner to have in bed. Sex is never, ever dull with him

John Price-

Doggy. Doggy. Doggy. Doggy.

Drives him fucking wild

Also thoroughly enjoys shower sex

He's such an ass man, so it's the best angle for him to get the perfect view of your ass while simultaneously pounding into you

If you have longer hair, this man will definitely be using his hand as a makeshift ponytail to yank on while he fucks you

Isn't opposed to you being on top, and he won't last long if you do reverse cowgirl. Again, this man is an ASS man

Raging Daddy Kink (obviously)

Honestly? He's a mean dom, but will never go far enough to where it truly hurts you

Handcuffs, blindfolds, whips- this man is here for all of it

This man will RARELY let you take the lead. He's a man of control and likes to show that in the bedroom outside?

100% will make you beg him to let you cum

Loves, loves to spank you. Drives him feral when he sees his hand prints on your ass cheeks

Will most definitely take it slow if you ask, man has a wicked romantic side

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Truly believe this man "makes love", and doesn't "fuck", at least not habitually

He LOVES having sex with you when you're both in bed, laying on your sides

Enjoys leaving love bites all over your neck and chest. Likes to know you're marked as his

He's fairly "vanilla" in bed, he just doesn't understand the appeal of all the toys and "extra stuff"

But he NEVER leaves you feeling unsatisfied

He will work for hours to get you to cum if that's what it takes

100% a soft dom. Doesn't like making you do any work unless you absolutely want to

He's not necessarily opposed to trying new stuff out, he just gets nervous

Firm believer that your first time with him, was on a bed covered in rose petals, he wanted your first time with him to be special

Like the others though, if you ask this man to fuck you senseless, he would, but not often

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Am I writing too much smut? Feel like I should be throwing some fluff in here🤣🫡

Also, I wanted to note again that I'm doing my very best to keep all of these GN, unless gender is specifically stated in ask! If I slip up anywhere, please don't hesitate to tell me!!🙂🩷

[dejinerate]

[ Dinner Can Wait ]

a smutty little Hyunjin x reader drabble.

You're in the kitchen, cooking dinner. You and Hyunjin haven't seen each other much, due to work schedules. There hasn't exactly been time to have a proper homecooked meal together in awhile, and you've decided to make things a bit... spicy, tonight.

He just got home, and is making his way towards you in the kitchen as you've already started preparing the food. He leaves his work clothes on, as he knows you always go crazy over how he looks after he gets home from a shift. Pristine white work shirt unbuttoned at the top, his belt off, his tie loosened... absolute perfection. You decided to wear one of his favorite dresses of yours as a little home greeting to make the night special.

"Dinner looks amazing baby, I'm absolutely ravenous, it's been such a long day… you're wearing that dress, huh? Gorgeous. Come here, I haven't held you since this morning."

He comes behind you to hold your body, as you stir the food on the stove. He sighs in relief. His hands roam over your hips on top of your dress.. and he realizes..

Your panties are missing.

He smirks and picks up on your intentions immediately, and chuckles quietly to himself. He knows exactly what you want him to do.

"You're a needy little slut, aren't you baby? You must've missed me pretty badly. I love when you try to play coy when you so obviously crave me. My beautiful girl. I've missed you."

He gently grabs the front of your neck and chokes you from behind, and tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. He's quick to latch his lips onto your sensitive skin, placing slow and torturous open mouthed kisses. You give him full access, and his mouth moves close to your ear. He licks and nibbles on your earlobe, sending goosebumps over your flesh.

He whispers into your ear. "You know exactly what you want from me... You want to be ruined, don't you? Can't even wait until dinner's over. Cock hungry little baby wants to be fucked. Where'd those panties go, hmm? Answer me."

You decide to be a brat and refuse to answer him, and he tightens his grip on your throat. You smirk to yourself, getting the exact response you wanted, and you start to close your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips on your neck and his hand on your throat… until he startles you with an unexpected spank on your ass with his unoccupied hand.

"You think you're so tough when you don't answer me, brat. But brats always get punished. Did I tell you that you could close your eyes? No. Face forward. Eyes open. Don't let our food burn. Keep stirring. Our dinner needs to be delicious, doesn't it? You need to pay attention, sweetheart. Wouldn't want our meal to go to waste. Are you gonna behave and do as I say? You want to be fucked, don't you? Good girls who get what they want have to listen."

You whine in protest, but begrudgingly nod at his demand, and he releases your throat. He unbuttons his pants and yanks them down, shoving his briefs simultaneously. His heavy, already hard and throbbing warm cock smacks against your ass as it springs free from its suffocating confinement. He flips the back of your dress up past your hips, grabs your thighs, and forces your legs to spread slightly apart for him. He impatiently aligns himself with your entrance, your pussy aching and drenched with arousal. You arch your ass back on him, your face and eyes held forward, attempting to concentrate on the food to make sure you do as he says and play along with his little power trip game.

You do want to be fucked, after all. That was the whole point of wearing no panties. He outwitted you, though. You have to play along with his impossible rules of focusing on the cooking. You just wanted to be fucked dumb as soon as he got home, but of course, he has to challenge you.

Hyunjin is usually a man of foreplay and teasing, as his favorite hobby is making you writhe and beg for what you want in your frequent love making. His dirty talk is unmatched. He loves dominating you and forcing your bratty ass to be compliant. He loves the challenge of taming you. You love watching him get riled up when you mouth off to him. He loves torturing you with his touch, his prowess of your body and your pleasure making you succumb to him far more quickly than you'd like. You always try to hold out, to resist his ministrations as long as possible, but all efforts are proven futile against this sex demi-god of a man. He loves when you finally give in to him. His lips are the most luscious when they're moving against your own. His tongue is pure sin between your legs. His beautifully long, elegant fingers a thing of incoherent ecstacy when they're inside of you. Making you cum over and over. He sadistically loves to draw out your need to be filled with him as long as possible, watching tears of desperation pool in your eyes from how mad he drives you... until he finally caves in to his own desires, and fucks you dumb and dizzy on his cock.

No unbearable build up tonight, though. He's wired. It seems as though your overt "forgotten panties" trick drove him to primal desires, no longer caring about foreplay. The idea of implied free use of your pussy driving him completely mad.

"You're doing so good for me, obeying me just like I wanted. You must be desperate for me to fill you up, brat. You're never usually this compliant. I'm a man of my word. Hold on to the counter, pretty baby."

You barely have a chance to grab the lip of the countertop. A strangled gasp escapes you as you feel him swiftly enter you, stretching you and filling you completely without any warning. He bottoms out quickly inside of you, a throaty, sinful moan escaping his lips as he begins to set a quickened pace of shallow thrusts. He's hitting that deep spot he knows you both go crazy for.

"Fuck baby." He hisses under his breath, his voice full of desire. "You've been ready for me for awhile, huh? I can tell, you're so warm and wet for me. That's my good girl. Always so ready for me. You feel so fucking good… Bend over all the way."

He's pushing your head down, a fist full of your hair gently held in his grip. You do as he says, and you lower your body more to angle yourself better for him to take you against the counter. 

 "That's it, my little cock whore, fuck. Tell me who you belong to, babygirl."

You whimper that you belong to him, and he chuckles darkly. His thrusts increase in speed, and you try your best to grip the countertop for support. Moans and whines are spilling out of you as he's relentlessly pounding your walls. Your eyes flutter closed and your head starts to lean back to give into the pleasure. He immediately notices and yanks your hair in his fist, and his other hand spanks you as a warning.

"What did I tell you, beautiful? You can't be fucked out this early, princess. I'm nowhere near done with you. Keep focused on making our delicious meal. Eyes forward. Concentrate. If you stop, I stop. I can do this for as looooong as I want. Your body is all fucking mine. You just have to play by the rules. You're mine to completely devour tonight. This pussy belongs to me. And daddy is starving."

[whorediaries-09]

take another drag;

pairing- dealer!sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, usage of drugs. a/n- this is for my kinkotober event. dealer sirius has me on a chokehold 😵‍💫

ps- here's the inspo whores. thank me later. my man can slut me out anyday.

kink- choking (number 12)

the slut club kinkotober rules kinkotober masterlist

turn me to ashes'

'i'll give you your money!' you screams are muffled by a thud as he pushes you against the wall, his hand enclosing around your chin. he tilts your head at an angle, making you look up at his dark gray eyes. his touch, so hot on your skin restricts any sane thought and you're thinking how you'd look underneath him, as he fucked you senseless.

but it's the chase he goes for. so you don't give in. so a grimaced feature sits atop your face instead.

'yeah sure,' he drawls. 'you're a little screwy. can't even afford your rent and you're out here smoking my shit.'

'sirius, i'll do anything if you postponed the payment,' you say, desperation sown into your voice. oh and you would. sirius considers your words for a moment, his hot breath fanning over your face. the ends of his choppy hair tickle your face, and you feel him pushing his hips against your torso.

'what gives you the idea i came here without the intention of making you do anything?' he whispers. his tongue rolls over your face without touching it, as he hardens the strength of his hand around your jaw. his free hand trails over the fabric of your trousers.

and he's pulling down your pants, tearing off your shirt.

'fuck,' you whimper, as he unbuckles his belt, the metal striking against the floor of your apartment with a clank. your breathing shudders, and he wraps your legs around his waist. his erections sits underneath your pussy folds so warm, so close yet so far. he grits his teeth, pushing himself in you so fast, and you think it knocks out the breath you had left in your lungs.

it's a fast, burning yet delicious stretch and you think it makes you loose the strength of your knees. you bite your lip and he's enclosing his hand around your throat, his hips rutting into yours, profanities and his name falling off your lips like a chant. he's breathing heavy into your ears, and the oxygen flow is cut off to your brain.

he's relentless, scandalous while he abuses your pussy for all the times you hadn't paid him. your eyes roll backwards with each thrust, his cock hitting your spot perfectly. it's a rhythm and a roll his hips, along with the force of his hand against your neck that makes you loose your decency and you're begging for him.

'sirius please,' he muffles his growl against your hair, destroying in the name of exploring your guts, and you're letting out breathy moans with the furious orgasm that coils within you.

'beg, beg for my cock,' he croons, and your back scratches against wall he holds you against.

'please, please-sirius-shit...' you moan. you feel dizzy, and your orgasm so on the edge consumes you from within and you babble incoherent words. he laughs, and there's a cruel mirth behind his voice.

your pussy walls, flutter around his cock, and he pounds into you, rocks into you and with each thrust, your slickness welcomes him, and it consumes you and him both. your clit rubs deliciously on his torso and simultaneously, his cock hits your sweet spot. your throat rips out a fetishized moan and you're breaking apart on his cock, while he's chasing his own release. your orgasm clutches his cock so tight, he resents the force on your own throat, and menacingly you wonder how he's not suffocated you to death yet.

'st-stop-' you beg, but he doesn't acknowledge you. he's chasing his own release, and the way you grip him drives him into a high of insanity.

'oh? is this too much for this poor cunt?' he mocks-and before the either of you know it, he's painting the walls of your abused cunt with his cum. it's filthy, his cum dripping onto the floor of your apartment from your used hole. you unwrap your shaking legs from his waist, and he lets go off your throat. you cough and splutter, taking in heavy breaths as he makes you kneel on the floor. he sits beside you, holding your hair while you struggle with your breathes.

he whispers in your ear, his finger still messing with your stimulated clit.

'take another drag, and i'll turn you to fucking ashes.'

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 17)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 1,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

As you left the doctor's office, the walls seemed to close in around you. The secrets you carried were becoming heavier by the second, threatening to suffocate your very existence.

With a deep breath, you made your way to Robert’s office again, determined to confront Robert about the situation. He had to know what lay ahead, hearing it from you rather than the doctor and this, itself made you worry.

Arriving at the outside of the small building, the secrecy that had shrouded your affair began to dissipate with every step closer to the door and since Robert saw you walking towards the building which once used to be a school, a gleam of curiosity became visible to you in his eyes.

“What did the doctor say?” was the first thing he asked after his office door closed behind you, and you mustered the strength to meet his gaze.

You gestured for him to sit, and with a heavy heart, you sat opposite him, fumbling with your trembling hands.

"The doctor suspects I might be pregnant, Robert," you told him as shock rippled across his face, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Pregnant? But...how is that possible?” he asked, causing you to laugh and cry simultaneously.

“Are you really asking me that?” you asked with tears welling in your eyes, and Robert leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I never expected... I mean, I always knew the possibility was there, but..." he stammered before asking you about your plans for the future. "What do you want to do?" he asked, and, of course, this was a fair question for him to ask.

You sighed, your heart heavy with the weight of the decision. "Robert, as much as I love you, I can't jeopardise my dreams for this child. I can't have a baby. Not now, not like this. Not here and not while you are married to another woman," you told him, and his eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of pain and understanding.

“I can leave Katherine,” he told you, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as you spoke the words you never thought you would utter.

“And then I become just like her?” you gasped. “Married to you because you took pity on me, and it was the right thing to do because you knocked me up?” you asked, and, at that moment, you saw the flicker of devastation in his eyes, a pang of guilt striking your heart. But you couldn't let it deter you. This was your choice, your life, and you had to be true to yourself.

“It would not be like that, Y/N. I already told you that I love you,” Robert said before telling you again that his feelings for you were much more potent than those he had ever harboured for his wife.

“I want to have a career, Robert,” you told him, crying.

“And you can have a career. We will make it work. Despite this, abortion is illegal. It is a dangerous procedure so I won’t allow it,” Robert then said, snapping at you, his voice laced with pain.

“It’s not your choice to make, Robert. It’s mine. It’s my body,” you told him, and he reflected on the time Kitty told him that she was pregnant, not wanting an abortion at her age after he had suggested it.

“No, it’s my choice too. You are carrying my child, which, by this point in time, may already have a heartbeat,” Robert told you, and, with that, the room fell into silence, broken only by the heavy weight of the decision that hung between you. The once-bright future of your affair seemed to dim, swallowed by the harsh reality of the choices you had to make.

The room span as his words sank in, the anguish of the decision tearing at your heart. Should you sacrifice your career and the child's chance at a stable family?

"Robert, it's not that simple," you managed to say, your voice trembling. "This baby is not something I was prepared for. It could change everything,” you told him as his eyes never left yours, filled with a steadfast resolve.

"And I'm willing to risk everything for you and our child, if you will have me,” Robert told you as emotions surged within you, a whirlwind of joy and uncertainty. The allure of a life with Robert pulled at your heart, yet the fear of losing yourself and your dreams reigned heavy.

"I need time to think," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "This decision is not one I can make lightly," you told Robert, and Robert nodded, his gaze filled with understanding.

"Take all the time you need, my love,” he told you, and with a heavy heart, you left Robert's office, the weight of your decision hanging over you like a shadow for days until you saw him in his office again, telling him that you needed to talk.

By that point, you had your pregnancy confirmed via the necessary tests and concluded that you would keep Robert’s child provided that he leaves his wife for you, following the conclusion of the project which you both considered to be most important.

“I would have done that anyway, and you know that. But, considering the circumstances, waiting until we have the gadget may not be an option. If the doctor is right in his assumption and you are indeed pregnant, then you will show soon, and there are rumours about us already. Kitty knows about us, and she will not take kindly to the news of your pregnancy,” Robert explained shortly after you informed him of your decision.

“So, what will you do?” you asked him worryingly as he caressed your face gently, but he did not have an answer.

“That I do not know yet. But what I know is that I want to be a part of our child’s life, so I will have to figure something out,” Robert told you reassuringly before making the somewhat harsh decision to pull you of the plutonium research team.

“Robert, no!” you told him angrily and again, he cupped your face, this time using both of his hands.

“You know very well that this is a necessary precaution. I will put you on design. You will work with me and Hans Bethe. This way, I can keep an eye on you,” Robert said, his piercing blue eyes searching for your agreeance.

“Fine,” you eventually gave up, knowing yourself that he was right and, in the end, you also knew that this was a stepping stone for you. You were part of the inner circle now and this was something exciting for you.

***

Your excitement, however, was short-lived when, at around 10 o’clock that evening, Kitty Oppenheimer made her way to your lodging and stormed into your room, her eyes burning with anger. You immediately felt a gust of tension fill the air as if the atmosphere was holding its breath.

She clenched her trembling fists, her voice dripping with venom. "I know about the pregnancy. Robert did not tell me, but his secretary did. She’s got good ears,” she hissed, her words laced with accusation.

You froze, feeling a mixture of fear and defiance coursing through your veins. You knew instantly that secrets had a way of escaping, and this one had just blown wide open.

Kitty's gaze burned into you, challenging you to deny her claims. But there was no denying it, not when the evidence was growing inside you.

Slowly, she reached into her bag, her hand emerging with a small container. Without a word, she placed it on the table and pushed it towards you.

"These will make the problem go away," Kitty said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Take them, or I'll make sure your career here is over before it even started,” she threatened you.

The weight of her words hit you like a ton of bricks. You had worked so hard to prove yourself in the scientific community, and now it was all at risk.

You glanced at the tablets, a surge of conflicting emotions swelling within you. But deep down, you knew you couldn't sacrifice the life growing inside you.

Taking a deep breath, you summoned the strength to look Kitty in the eye, your voice trembling yet steady. "Screw you, Kitty”, you spat and Kitty's eyes narrowed as she absorbed your defiant stance, her anger only growing.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," she spat, her voice shaking with suppressed rage.

Then, Kitty's face twisted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Robert would not want this," she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. "He would want you to get rid of it!"

"I doubt that, Kitty," you countered, your voice cracking as you fought back tears. "He understands the significance of this life, of our love, and he wants to leave you. He told me so yourself," you told her in anguish, which is when Kitty's fist slammed down on the table, causing the small vial of tablets to topple and roll away.

“You are nothing but a whore, and I will ensure that, come next week, you will disappear from Los Alamos and our lives,” Kitty spat before you watched her retreating figure, a mixture of relief and sadness swirling within you. The road ahead would not be easy, but neither of you were willing to back down.

As the door closed behind her, you slumped into your chair, the weight of the world pressing down upon you. This was only the beginning of a tumultuous journey that would test your strength and resilience.

[shininjjongg]

What’s left unsaid

Author’s note: Just a lil drabble, haven’t really written anything in years, hope y’all enjoy :)  Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x gn!Reader Word count: 554 TW: uh, none i’d say. I don’t think there is any, if there is feel free to let me know so I can put it up! :) 

Bakugou is the type of guy who will do everything a boyfriend does but never actually say anything that would even remotely resemble a confession. “I like you” he’s sure he will never be able to speak those words out loud due to the huge lump stuck in his throat every time he tries to speak up. “Be my lover” he, in fact, wanted to ask you to be his lover this one time when he got you your favourite flowers and you two went to an amusement park and got some ice-cream but every time he opened his mouth to ask you the big question words never seem to come out of it. And that’s how he ended up in this situation. 

In his mind, you two were dating. Surely, you were smart enough to have realised Bakugou only did those cheesy, romantic things with you and no one else. Aside from that, you two, in his eyes, did everything couples do. He always brought extra lunchbox with the food that he cooked for you, and he never forgot to get you your favourite drink as well. You and him had study dates every weekend, movie dates, you guys went out to get food, to go to arcades, walk, and do all the things couple do. 

However, it never occurred to you that Bakugou could, in fact, have feelings for you. You thought he was being friendly and all the activities you two engaged in had no alternative motives and were strictly platonic. 

Even now, you two were in the shared living room of Class A’s dormitory, sat next to one another and giggling in Bakugou’s shoulder as Kirishima was telling a funny story that happened to him recently. Everything was going smoothly until Kaminari decided to ask the question that everyone else was dying to know the answer to.

“So, y/n and Bakugou, how long have you two been dating?”

The question startled you a bit, you and Bakugou dating? No way they thought you two were together. You shifted away from Bakugou, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. A small blush had appeared on your cheeks as you chuckled and spoke up “We’re not datin-” “It’s been 5 mon-”

You and Bakugou spoke simultaneously, and as the answers of one another registered in your brain, both of you cut your sentence off. You gazed at Bakugou, eyes wide in pure shock as he mirrored your expression. An uncomfortable silence had taken over the whole room, suffocating the two of you. You tried to say something, anything but it seemed impossible to phrase a coherent sentence. And so you watched silently as Bakugou bit his lip in embarrassment and what seemed to be sadness in his crimson cue, unable to do anything. He waited for you to laugh and say that you were joking or that you were just messing with him, but those words never left your mouth. He had no other choice but to get up and leave the room. It was painful enough to learn that he had been living in his delusions this whole time, and on top of it all, everyone else was there to witness it too. 

As he made his way to his room, he looked over his shoulder in hopes that you’d follow him shortly.

[pearlypairings]

I wish you’d write a fic where Trip finds out T’Pol is ticklish

your wish is my command! so much so, that I also posted this ficlet on ao3 as my first ever fic for Enterprise<3

trip x t'pol || fluff, humor, banter || ~1k wc

“You know, when I got the pitch to join Starfleet, I was promised unimaginable adventure, opportunity for technological innovation, a chance to advance mankind in the unchartered territory of space,” Trip lamented, shimmying his upper body to lay flat on his back. “No one mentioned the hours I’d spend trapped in a cargo box with our First Officer.”

T’Pol did not budge; she laid extremely still. In fact, if Trip’s eyes hadn’t adjusted from the past few hours of being held here in the pitch black, he would have been more concerned she’d passed out or fell into some weird Vulcan stasis. But he could see her chest inflate and shrink ever so slightly with what could be made out in the darkness of their snug crate.

They had been sent on an exploration mission for discreet observation only, no contact allowed with the vulnerable, primitive species on the newly discovered M-class Planet. But when their transport had been unintentionally found by the native humanoid species during a windstorm, they’d set it aflame along with most of their medical and survival supplies. Their comms were able to reach the Enterprise, but the transporter pads had already been halted for routine maintenance and would take hours to be put back online.

Instructed to hide safely away from the paranoid populace, Trip and T’pol followed orders and snuck into a storage lot, quickly picking an inconspicuous box to stow away in when the lot was inundated by workers. They had to wait inside, even after the area mostly cleared for midday meals, until their transporter pads or a rescue team would be dispatched. Armed with only phase pistols and communicators, they were hardly enjoying the hours cramped together without any breaks or provisions.

Trip tried to stretch his neck out, but the top of his head met resistance with the scrap wood surrounding them. A bead of disappointed sweat slipped down his spine. He sighed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were dead. Anybody home?”

She stirred, just a little, near his left side. Her voice kept unusually quiet despite how close they were to each other.

“I would not call this a ‘home,’ Commander Tucker. I also find our predicament exceedingly unpleasant and am trying to meditate until we are free to return to Enterprise.”

“Meditate? Is that all you Vulcans do, meditate? Can you meditate this box to be bigger—because my legs….even my arms….are killin’ me.” Trip said with biting sarcasm, gradually uncurling his elbows maneuvering within the confines of their temporary prison.

“Vulcans do meditate regularly to control our emotions. Something you would likely greatly benefit from, it seems.” T’pol said coolly. “Here, allow me to move so you can have more space for your limbs and your untempered feelings.”

As the slender Vulcan acquiesced to her side allowing him to press his hands out and down, something peculiar happened. His fingers grazed T’pol’s side with the motion—they’d both moved simultaneously, getting in each other’s way as a result. Despite the heat and humid climate, her suit was fairly dry and cooler than his palm, a relief actually from the suffocating heat. Trip could feel the gentle curve of her rib, and for a moment, he wondered if Vulcan women had the same number of ribs as the human counterpart.  His musing didn’t last long as his fingers found the dip of her waist and with it, a hard knee in his thigh and the galaxy’s tiniest squeak. Luckily, his pistol was hitched to his other side, outside of where T’pol could flinch into him.

“Commander, please remove your hand—” T’pol pressed out, squirming uncomfortably and still deeply puncturing his leg with her knee. She sucked in a deep breath. “My side is….sensitive. I am afraid I will hurt you or worse, ruin the mission by being located.”

His hand retreated with the bend of his elbow, letting the rough surface of the wood scratch at his skin. Trip’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you tellin’ me you’re ticklish?”

Her pinned effort to drill a hole into his leg relaxed with the absence of his stretch. T’pol shifted beside him to move onto her back once more, stiffening her arms across her chest.

“I am saying that sensation is extremely…discomforting.”

“I didn’t know Vulcans, with all their peace and control nonsense, could be tickled.” Trip said in awe. A chuckle tumbled out as he turned to face her and at the same time, allow more space for her.

“I assure you this is not typical.”

“Still, I’m keeping note of that for a later date.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. Even in the dark haze of their box, her profile looked pointed and pretty. There was no denying that.

“You know, I was thinkin’—”

Trip’s offer was cut off by the sound of his communicator's incoming signal beeping. Archer’s voice filled the hollow of their box.

“Commander Tucker, T’pol. We’re ready to extract you from the location designated by your communicators. Hold tight a little longer and we’ll have you back on board in no time.”

Trip clicked his receiver. “Message received, sir. Get the mess hall ready for us, ‘cause I’m starving.”

“I’ll turn that request into an order, Trip. See you sooner than later. Archer Out.”

T’pol turned back on her side, slowly this time to look at him. He could barely see the faint reflection of her eyes as she stared at him in the restored silence.

“If you make anyone aware on the Enterprise, Commander Tucker—” “Alright, alright. I know a threat when I hear one. I swear on my dear mother I won’t say a word to anyone else…..” He smirked. “For now. You’ll owe me one.”

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

K. Jotaro — you're a barista and he's a regular; seeing him almost every day should be normal, right?

CW: Stalking, Obsession, Dark Themes

We will experience different kinds of.. 'effects' throughout our lives. There's the ever-famous Butterfly Effect, wherein a small change, a small choice or an action could lead to vastly different outcomes. There's also the Domino Effect, where an event leads to a chain reaction of various events, and the Snowball effect, where a small mistake eventually snowballs into a huge problem.

For you, what set off all of these effects in your life simultaneously was a simple act of kindness toward a stranger.

It was a lovely afternoon, the sun's rays still bright but not scaldingly hot as it was during noon when the sun was at its highest. You were taking a short break and you decided to spend it by people gazing at the front of the store as the staff room felt too suffocating at the moment and staying in the cafe might end up with customers asking for your service—God knows how entitled some of them can be.

There was no way you wouldn't be able to notice the tall man that walked past you, his eyes trained on the notebook he held in his hands, his white coat long enough that it reaches his calves. The first thought that came to your mind then was: Isn't he hot in his outfit? Before you noticed the weird hat that seems to fuse with his hair. You raised your brow for a bit, before looking away and searching for another interesting person to walk by.

Weird, but not the weirdest thing you've seen. Working in the retail business, it goes without saying that you end up meeting different types of people; ranging from entitled ones to weird freaks—honestly, you're lucky if you managed to encounter a handful of nice ones, those were always the highlight of your day in your shitty job.

The sudden strong gust of wind took you by surprise, and the sound of someone's coat fluttering in the wind came after. As you turn to look at the sound, your body instinctively moved in response to the sight of a white... something making its way towards you, carried by the wind.

Blinking to get your mind out of the state of shock, your gaze went from the tall man earlier whose eyes are now on you, his expression indifferent before you allow your eyes to fall to your hand, still holding the object that was brought to you by the wind. As you have seen at a glance earlier, it was white, with gold pins adorning the front, and its back ripped off and dyed black.

So that's how he makes it seems like his hat was fused into his hair.

For such a huge man, he moves too silently for your own liking, as he almost gave you a heart attack when your gaze was met with his chest when you looked up to gaze at him again. Jumping back slightly, you pressed your free hand to your chest with your eyes widened as you looked up at his azure gaze that was looking down at you, and you never fully realized just how terrifying his build was until this moment.

His still emotionless face gives you the impression that he must be a reticent man, perhaps, just reserved with strangers. In all honesty, you understand why. Some people are just...... creepy sometimes. He only blinks at you, but you can see his outstretched hand from your peripheral vision and you immediately knew what he was trying to tell you.

Suppressing a relieved sigh, you allow your tensed shoulders to relax, before placing the bizarre hat in his palm. Your fingers brush against his, but you didn't pay it any mind as your phone started ringing, the sound of your alarm blaring—signifying the end of your shift. He only nods at you in appreciation, a silent thank you, and you only nodded back before reaching for your phone and your body turning as you start walking back inside the cafe.

Much to your surprise, the weird hat guy was back the next day—but this time, instead of seeing him just passing by, he's standing in front of you, the registrar, with the counter of the cafe separating the two of you from each other.

"Welcome," you give him your customer service smile, "What can I get you today, Sir?"

His eyes were on you for a while before darting toward the menu behind you. He's pretty lucky there isn't anyone in the line right now—and you're lucky about that too, not wanting to deal with a snappy customer because this one is taking a bit too long to order. Not long after that, he fixes his gaze on you again.

He finally gives you his order, just a regular coffee. You would have been annoyed at him for taking so long to think, only to order something so common if you weren't used to it—and you were quite distracted by his voice, it wasn't that you didn't expect it, but it was really deep.

"Your name, Sir?" You ask, your smile still plastered on your face. A pen in your dominant hand and his cup in the other.

"Jotaro," he responds, and you nodded absentmindedly as you write his name on the cup, hoping you spelled the foreign name right.

"Okay. I'll call for you when your order is ready."

Ever since that day, you started seeing him more often. At first, he'd only stop by once or twice per week, and then, every weekday, until it ended up with him going every single day to the point even your coworker has taken notice of the weird-hat guy that you now had a name for; Jotaro.

It was said that we, humans, have a sixth sense, and in a way, we're able to sense it whenever someone is watching us. And you've been having a feeling for a while now that someone is watching your every move whenever you're at work, but you just chalked it up to stress. You being looked at by the customers is nothing new, and it never bothered you before.... mayhaps, you really are just tired.

Taking your break for the day, you allowed yourself to indulge in your favorite drink. One sip and you can feel the stress start to melt away already, and you allow yourself to let out a close-eyed smile. Only for your peace to immediately be ruined by your co-worker's voice.

"I know that's your favorite, but that's all you drink here. Aren't you sick of it?" they ask, a brow raised in your direction.

You debated internally whether you were going to respond to them or not, but before you even had the chance to defend yourself, a customer had already appeared by the cash register which prompted them to focus on their work and gave you the chance to slip away into the staff room.

The feeling of eyes burning through you still not leaving.

The next day, you greet Jotaro with a smile—your smile now more genuine that when you first met the guy. He was still as quiet as ever, only coming in to order his drink, seat at his usual booth to continue his work, and finishing his order before leaving without saying goodbye. But he's still much better than the other customer you've had to deal with, especially much better than a bunch of rambunctious teenagers.

"Welcome, Jotaro." You greet, watching as his gaze zeroes in on you at the sound of his name coming from your lips, "The usual?"

The man continues to stare at you, not uttering a word or any signal to affirm your words. Confused, you tilt your head to the side as you try to get a read on him—an impossible feat, considering he always wears that neutral expression on his face. Blank aquamarine eyes stare at you, to which you had no choice but to stare back.

"Jotaro?"

This time, you seem to have successfully snapped him out of his reverie as he blinks owlishly at the realization he had been openly staring at you. He clears his throat before his eyes finally leave your face to glance over the menu behind you.

"The usual for you?" You try again, and the upturn of your lips now lessened significantly.

"I'd like to try something new today," was his response, shaking his head with his eyes going back to you after he seems to have found what he was looking for. Nodding to himself, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

Much to your surprise, he asked for an order of your exact favorite drink. Your smile widens at his choice, punching his order into the register while mindlessly commenting on his order.

"Good choice," you spoke, "That's my favorite, actually."

He only nods in response, before bringing his wallet out to pay for his drink. You hadn't really thought much of it, even if it didn't seem like a drink he would have, it's nice that he's willing to try something new.

Ever since that day, that certain drink became his regular order, and you would always have a smile on your face while serving him his drink. You hadn't really thought much of it, after all, there was no reason to.

You've never really seen Jotaro outside of work, except for that one time you had to commute on the way to work.

Your day was going horribly at that time. You slept through your alarm, you almost slipped and fell to your death in your own bathroom, and just to make matters worst, you find that some strange thought it would be funny to burst a hole in the tires of your car. Cursing to yourself, you rushed to the nearest bus stop, hoping you can still make it to your shift just in time.

Surprisingly, just when you were nearing the bus stop, you see a familiar figure standing there with a notebook in his hand, wearing the same clothing as when you first met, down to the golden pins in his hat that changed constantly. You thought twice about greeting him at first, but before you could even try to hide from him, his piercing gaze has already met yours.

He didn't seem surprised to see you there, but then again, when did you ever see this man show a glimpse of emotion, anyway?

"Hello," you greet, waving timidly, he only nods at you in response.

The journey to your workplace was silent, with the tall man only focusing on his notes and you didn't dare disturb him. He seems to be the type to keep to himself, a man of a few words, and you weren't really that close to him (and in all honesty, you didn't care about him enough to break the silence between the two of you). You sat next to him on the bus, you both got off at the same stop, and you walked together to your workplace.

By the time you clocked in and were manning the register, he had already ordered his drink and was already sitting in his usual seat, working on his laptop.

This time, however, he didn't leave at the same time he usually does. He instead waited for your shift to end, and similar to earlier in the day, you both walked next to each other to the stop, rode the same bus next to each other, and got off at the same stop. You nod at him in goodbye, thanking him for the company and he only nodded back to acknowledge your words—You spent the next few days like this, just until you finally had your day off when you finally got your car fixed.

You hadn't really thought much of Jotaro at the time, you had no reason to, after all. He was just a regular who happen to live in the same area as you, and there wasn't really anything about him that entices you. But that all changed that one fateful day.

Watching Jotaro walk out from the cafe, your co-worker suddenly nudges you with their elbow with a cheeky smile on their face. It was certainly a slow day, which you were thankful for.

"When are you going to introduce your boyfriend, hmm?" They ask, crossing their arms across their chest. You raise a brow at them, confused at their words.

"Boyfriend? Him?" You ask, pointing at the door that Jotaro just went out of, "Are you serious?"

"Is he not?" Your co-worker is just as confused as you, "You went to work with him before, didn't you? Went home with him too?"

"Oh, someone broke my car that time, we just happen to live in the same area. I guess he wanted to make sure I was safe or something." You shrug it off, moving to get a rug, about to leave the counter to clean the table Jotaro left, though you only need to wipe the tables as Jotaro cleans up after himself anyway.

"Really?" They ask, "How come he's only around when you have a shift, then?"

"...What?"

You stop in your tracks, turning to look at them. This information was news to you, you thought he came here every day...

"He once came here when you weren't around, he got up to the cashier and asked where you were." Your co-worker recalled, their voice getting more concerned about the situation the more they speak, "When I told him it was your day off, he suddenly turned and left. He stopped coming whenever its that day of the week ever since then."

"That's kind of...." you clear your throat, looking at your co-worker incredulously, not sure as to what words you should use to describe the situation. Sure, you had a few admirers amongst your regulars that only came to the cafe to see you, but knowing that some stranger took the time to learn your work schedule still scares you a bit.

"Anyway, I'll go clean his table." You said, deciding to avoid the topic. Your co-worker didn't push the topic, seeing how visibly uncomfortable you were.

Approaching his table, you did your job of wiping it down, and just as when you were about to leave, you noticed a small, brown envelope on the floor. It must have belonged to Jotaro, possibly falling from his things when he left. You brought it with you to the counter, deciding to give it back to him tomorrow, if it did belong to him.

"What's that?" your co-worker immediately took notice of the envelope in your hand the moment you walked into the staff room,

"I found it on the floor," you respond, suddenly feeling exhausted, "Jo- He must have dropped it."

"You sure it's not from some other customer?" They ask, putting a hand out, wordlessly asking for the envelope in your grasp and you reach your hand out to give it to them.

However, the envelope accidentally slips through your grip before your co-worker could get a hold of it and it ended up falling to the floor, its flap opening and some of its contents spilling out face down.

Your co-worker cursed before you both apologized at the same time, they were quick to get on one knee to pick up the spilled... photos? from inside, and in their rush to put it back in the envelope, they accidentally saw the content of one photo which immediately froze them in place.

You watch as their pupils dilate, their skin turning pale as they freeze in surprise, eyes glued to the photo. Raising a brow, you open your mouth to ask if they were alright but they immediately opened the envelope in their other hand to look at its contents and you were sure you can see their heart dropping to their stomach at the sight of the photos in the envelope.

"Hey!" you tried to stop them, "That's not ours, we shouldn't-"

You were cut off as your co-worker spilled the contents of the images on the floor. The sight of them made your blood run cold, you were just about sure that your heart stopped beating out of shock—because in these images, your own face stared back at you.

They were stolen images, and you just about realized why Jotaro always chose to sit at that booth; because it gave him a clear view of you on the counter. There were some of you on the counter, some when you were serving other customers, but what just made your blood run cold was there were pictures of you in your own home. You recognize that shirt from the one you wore that morning, what was even more chilling was that there were pictures of you. Asleep. In your room.

He broke into your home to take pictures of your sleeping form.

You didn't know what to think. You didn't know what to do.

How long had he been doing this? How did you know where you lived? Did he follow you home before? How did he get into your home? Was it through the window? Did he find your spare keys?

So many thoughts ran through your mind, too many for you to comprehend. You felt like crying, but no tears came out. Not wanting to see any more of it, you swiped the envelope from your co-worker's hand, swiftly gathering the photos and putting them back inside with your fingers trembling.

By the time you were finished putting it all away, the sound of the door to the staff room slamming open made you jump in surprise, clutching onto the envelope, followed by the voice of your manager cussing the both of you loudly.

"What are you two doing here?!! Why is no one manning the counter?" Your manager yelled out, oblivious to the tense mood of the room, "There's a customer waiting!!"

You looked behind him to see the said customer, and you feel your blood drain from your face, turning pale at the sight of a familiar tall figure wearing his eccentric hat that fused into his hair.

"He said he dropped an envelope with important documents when he left, have you se-" your manager cut themself off as their eyes look over at you, landing at the brown envelope you held in your still trembling hands, "Oh, you did. Go give it to him."

"But w-" your co-worker tried to speak for you,

"Give it to him."

But of course, your manager didn't care. It was just your luck, one of your customers is a hardcore stalker and your manager didn't care enough to spare five seconds to listen to you. Eventually, your manager pushed you out of the staff room and back to the counter, in front of....him.... and you were forced to give the envelope back, all while your manager glared at you through his smile.

"It's important, but don't threaten them over it," he spoke, and you would have appreciated him standing up for you had you not seen what was inside that godforsaken envelope.

He gently gets the envelope from your hand, his gaze focused on you as they usually are and you turned your eyes to look somewhere else. As much as you want to act like you haven't seen anything to not tip him off, you just can't bring yourself to look at him without feeling sick to your stomach.

"You didn't see what's inside.." He asks, and suddenly, his deep voice which usually sounds calm and soothing became menacing, "Did you?"

"Of course not!" Your manager was quick to answer for you, "We value our customers' privacy!-"

"Shut up, I wasn't talking to you." His gaze didn't leave you as he speaks, still piercing through you, he spoke your name and you suddenly tensed up. "You didn't see anything, right?"

"No, sir." you lied.

He knows you're lying.

"We value our customers' privacy..."

He knows.

"Okay, I believe you."

He doesn't.

"Is that all, sir?"

For the first time since you've met him, he gives you a smile. To another, it may seem charming, a genuine smile, even. But to you, it was just bone-chilling.

"That is all," He says, stuffing said envelope in his white coat, "See you later,"

The moment the bell on the cafe's door rang, signifying his exit from the establishment, your knees suddenly gave out and you ended up on the floor with your tears finally streaming freely down your cheeks.

"Calls the cops," you heaved, "Call the cops, please"

Jotaro couldn't help but chuckle as he leaves. He hadn't meant to leave the envelope, he swears, after all, this contained his precious treasure—your images that he worked diligently for every day to capture. But he isn't fond of the look you were giving him earlier, pupils dilated in fear, you wouldn't even look at him nor say his name.

He catches a glimpse of the tears in your eyes before you collapse behind the counter and he can only sigh to himself as he continues walking.

Don't worry. He'll be sure to wipe the tears from your face when he visits your room tonight.

[1000fiction]

Mercer had always been a hateful man, he had that toxic tendency of skipping over jealousy and jumping straight to hating those that had which he couldn't have. You were one such person, you had the guild wrapped around your finger within days of your initiation, and despite his best attempts to defame you, everyone seemed weak to your charms. Worse still, he was one of them. You had skill, and passion too, but you didn't follow rules like an obedient mutt. The focus you put on self-preservation reminded him of himself in his youth, he’d seen your greed outweigh your loyalty, and if he didn't see so much of himself, he too probably would have fallen for your lies the way the others had. 

The others truly were desperate to get the Guild back on its feet, weren't they? 

It was pitiful, watching the others dote and clutch at the scraps of attention you fed them, keeping them hanging by a thread. Not him, no. He’d hated the scraps, and so demanded more.

Which is how your relationship came to be, one full of bile, bitter and acrid. You could feel it in your throat along with his cock, the pre-seeping straight down your cullet. His fingers linked behind your head, pulling you flush and keeping you stuffed against his crotch, hidden dark beneath the desk. Your movements were sloppy and wet, the faint clicking from your saliva seemed to echo. He hated the sound, and you got blissfully quiet when he locked you in place, still.

He could almost imagine you suffocating down there on his cock.

He hated this, turmoil that gave him headaches and butterflies simultaneously. How he wanted to drown you and kiss you. How he wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone yet keep you all to himself. How he hated you.

How dare you waltz in, stir things up, take his cock so good, and still begin to unravel the secrets he’s spent so long weaving? His eyes glance over the numerous papers you’ve uncovered leading to Karliah's involvement - no doubt if you discover her you’ll find out all his dirty little secrets. And then you’d hate him too.

He doesn't have long to ponder why such a statement makes his heartache.

He blinks, refocusing as the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock brings him back to reality. You claw at his calves, and he realises you're still pressed against him. He unlocks his fingers, eyes turned downward as you pull yourself free. Water dribbles down your cheeks and spit down your chin, mouth agape, chest rising. He watches as you work your jaw back to life, stiffened and sore. 

And yet you still grin. It makes him growl, and snarl, his lips rising and baring a canine. The disgusted look suits his aged features beautifully. You can feel the hatred radiating off him, so you dive back in, sucking and swirling, taking him deep till he reaches his release. 

After all, he hates you a lot less when you're covered in his cum.

[unhelpfulfemme]

book ask: 3, 4, 12

I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG :( Anyway, this post was for my book ask, everyone else reading it feel free to join in!

3. What were your top five books of the year?

Hoo boy, if I were perfectly honest they would all be Lymond Chronicles books. Those books are PERFECT, they literally have everything I've ever wanted: operatic drama AND Ocean's 11-style competence porn AND meticulously researched historical battles AND a morally grey manipulative messy depraved bisexual protagonist who ends up breaking down into a puddle of mental health issues at several points AND really well-rounded strong female characters. However, for fairness's sake, I'm going to pretend that I can only put in one book in a series, so here goes:

Pawn in Frankincense by Dorothy Dunnett (Lymond Chronicles book 4/6) - I only read this at the beginning of the year and I've already reread it twice. It has all the content warnings, the lushest writing you'll ever see, and it will make you fall in love with it and then break your heart. Two bisexual Scottish noblemen, one of which is Depraved and the other one Repressed and Catholic, travel the Mediterranean in search of the bastard child of one of them, which is held hostage by a sadistic knight Hospitaller. They are accompanied by a maybe-sister of one of them (it's a mystery if they're related and how!!) and a perspicaceous fifteen-year-old girl who can't be convinced to leave even though everyone agrees it's inappropriate for her to be there. As everyone around them dies in increasingly gruesome ways and everything starts feeling like some kind of orientalist fever dream, they bicker constantly due to their shitty personalities and the mounting UST between several of them. The main draw of this series as a whole is that most of the characters are simultaneously manipulative cunning chessmasters and very mentally ill, and you are left wondering (alongside their friends and family) whether their current breakdown is part of some elaborate byzantine plot or if they're just genuinely losing their mind <3

Prince's Gambit by C.S. Pacat (Captive Prince book 2/3) - it maintains a laser-sharp focus on the characterizations and character dynamics (and the characters have many layers to unpeel) while rolling out a pretty twisty and well-constructed military/political plot in the background. Also full of lush, sensorial writing and sordid personal drama, just as I like it <3

The King's Shield by Sherwood Smith (Inda tetralogy book 3/4) - literally the emotional payoff of the previous two books, as this series follows a group of military school friends as they grow into their aristocratic roles and here they finally meet up after having spent a book and a half apart. Amazing nuanced and realistic exploration of how growing up in a very militaristic, macho, almost proto-fascist society impacts various types of personalities, amazing unique and detailed worldbuilding that makes you fall in love with the local culture (despite the almost-fascism), complex realpolitik, amazingly lovely and realistic depictions of healthy male friendships, a subplot about defending a castle from an invasion that's harrowingly historically realistic AND makes you realize the practical utilities of why the culture is The Way It Is. MORE PEOPLE SHOULD READ THIS SERIES IT HAS 8 FICS ON AO3 FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!

The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks (The Culture book 2/10) - wide-scope heavily left-leaning reflections on various properties of culture and society and its purpose and a very... literary fiction-esque approach to characterization, almost, smack in the middle of a book that hinges entirely on sociological storytelling. Very cool mix! And the plot is, just like I like it, filled with cool twists and moves within moves within moves, so it's not like you'll get suffocated by plotless philosophical considerations of the Evil of Imperialism - it's still a really exciting, fairly plotty book!

Memory by LoisMcMaster Bujold (Vorkosigan Saga book 10/16... I think? The numbering of these books is Complicated, okay?) - This is a series that's like 80% fast-paced madcap plotty fun but the characters feel like icebergs in that you get constant hints of the 70% that's below the surface. This book is a cut above the rest because it leverages the gradual buildup and reader goodwill accumulated over the previous 9 books and uses it to swerve into a character study of the protagonist, his flaws, how they were shaped by his environment, and his deeply-seated mid-life crisis while ALSO delivering a decently fun mystery plot.

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

Absolutely! Technically I discovered Dorothy Dunnett last year, since that's when I started my first read of Lymond, but I finished it this year and am on my second reread currently so I think it counts.

C.S. Pacat is another new favourite - he had Dunnett as a major influence but I feel like they're two very different beasts in many respects - Pacat's writing is less chaotic and more deliberate in its exploration of the characters' inner lives. Dunnett's characters feel like deranged children screaming in the back of the car (in the most deliberate and best possible way), while Pacat's feel like fine, carefully constructed clockwork. Dunnett also embeds her characterization in a sprawling complex plot that can be compared to something like Game of Thrones, Pacat leaves the plot in the background (although it's still complex enough!) and hones in on the character dynamics.

12. Any books that disappointed you?

I am gonna get shit from the Beloved Mutuals for this I think but I HATED The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison. I hated it so much, and I had heard so much hype about it before I read it. Like, I literally have a bunch of notes with evidence of it botching literally every aspect of writing/storytelling that I consider important, it's fascinating to me in how I am convinced of it doing literally everything wrong and yet it's so popular? Like I consider it worse than ACOTAR, and I was even thinking of writing up a long post dissecting what I consider are all its flaws, but so many people on here seem very attached to it and I wouldn't like to ruffle any feathers.

Honourable mention to The Secret History by Donna Tartt - technically I'd read it over 10 years ago but I remembered nothing from it so this year I did a reread because a person whose tastes I respect a lot heaped lavish praise on it. But I also hated it and thought it was a fake-deep book for people who like nonsense fake-deep Facebook quotes and Old Money Quiet Luxury (tm) aesthetic boards :S

[ipsen]

I HAVE THOUGHT OF A THING FOR THE FIC TITLE ASK GAME. I have one that's more abstract and one that's more particular, feel free to choose either, both are meant for etoken.

"Pendulum" or "To solve a puzzle."

"Pendulum."

"Sometimes she's so close he'll suffocate. Other times, so painfully distant that he almost misses her."

I can see this fic taking place in a Root A-esque narrative (not that I would know anything about writing a Root A-esque narrative, not at all). I've said this before, but a "Kaneki joins Aogiri" AU must address the fact that his perception of Aogiri and actual Aogiri are at odds with one another. You can do this simply by expanding on his relationship to Eto, who easily embodies aspects of both. Her extremist tendencies initially validate his perception; she's incredibly violent when she fights and she's a huge cannibal. However, as he digs deeper into who and why she kills, it changes to the actual Aogiri purpose. A world for ghouls, paved in blood and violence.

The fic navigates the stages in their relationship, which simultaneously navigates the radicalization of Ken Kaneki. The "pendulum" portion is him constantly oscillating between both how his mind makes Aogiri look and how Eto (eventually) makes Aogiri look. Also the fact that Eto is both close and afar in unpredictable amounts. In return, Eto sort of relearns some form of proper empathy by example, if only empathy for Kaneki specifically.

(Kaneki makes friends with Miza too. I just think they'd get along really well.)

--

I wanted to make one for "to solve a puzzle" but my brain shortcircuited :(

Thanks for the ask though!

[canidaery]

For there is no sex. There is but sex that is oppressed and sex that oppresses. It is oppression that creates sex and not the contrary. . . . The primacy of difference so constitutes our thought that it prevents turning inward on itself to question itself, no matter how necessary that may be to apprehend the basis of that which precisely constitutes it. To apprehend a difference in dialectical terms is to make apparent the contradictory terms to be resolved. To understand social reality in dialectical materialist terms is to apprehend the oppositions between classes, term to term, and make them meet under the same copula (a conflict in the social order), which is also a resolution (an abolition in the social order) of the apparent contradictions.

monique wittig, "the category of sex"

[A] language, a semiotic system, because it is a framework for expressing meaning created to serve all members of a society regardless of class, cannot be considered an oppressive superstructure in itself. It is when a language “give[s] preference and support to some one social group to the detriment of other social groups of the society” that it “loses its virtue” and becomes a “jargon”. Where gender is the language, indifferent to all classes, restrictive gender roles are patriarchy’s attempt to enforce a jargon.

. . . In resistance to the patriarchal jargon of restrictive gender roles, the feminist movement emerged to develop a gender system that is not a jargon, one that serves society as a whole, even if it has not necessarily always seen itself in such terms. Transfeminism, the most advanced form of feminism, with its recognition of the need to rethink gender entirely to properly account for the people that fall beyond even the link to a “sex” coercively assigned at birth, represents the culmination of this mission.

In the quoted section, Alyx shows that her thinking is indeed materialist: mechanical materialist, not dialectical materialist. “Our genders and our selves are produced by society”, she declares, positioning “society” as something beyond our control. “Patriarchy is the subject” and “we’re the object”, she claims, but if her thinking were really dialectical she would recognize that people are not the object to society’s subject, but that both people and society are simultaneously subject and object, influencing each other in a dialectical relationship.

kinsey tamsin favre, “the gender politics of [alyx mayer's] 'eroticization'"

The use of speech, such as it is practiced everyday, is an operation that suffocates language and thus the ego, whose deadly stake is the hiding, the dissimulating, as carefully as possible, of the nature of language. What is caught unaware here and suffocates are the words between the words, before the “fathers,” before the “mothers,” before the “you’s,” before “the arising of the dead,” before “structuralisma,” before “capitalisma.” What is smothered by all kinds of talk, whether it be that of the street or of the philosopher’s study, is the first language (of which the dictionary gives us an approximate idea): the one in which meaning has not yet occurred, the one which is for all, which belongs to all, and which everyone in turn can take, use, bend toward a meaning. For this is the social pact that binds us, the exclusive contract (none other is possible), a social contract that exists just as Rousseau imagined it, one where the “right of the strongest” is a contradiction in terms, one where there are neither men nor women, neither races nor oppression, nothing but what can be named progressively, word by word, language. Here we are all free and equal or there would be no possible pact. We all learned to speak with the awareness that words can be exchanged, that language forms itself in a relation of absolute reciprocity. If not, who would be mad enough to want to talk? The tremendous power—such as linguists have made it known to us—the power to use, proceeding from oneself alone, all language, with its words of dazzling sounds and meanings, belongs to us all. Language exists as the commonplace where one can revel freely and, in one stroke, through words, offer to others at arm’s length the same license, one without which there would be no meaning. “Par toutes leurs voyelles, par toutes leurs consonnes (les mots) se tendent, s’ouvrent, aspirent, s’imbibent, s’emplissent, se gonflent, s’épandent à la mesure d’espaces infinis, à la mesure de bonheurs sans bornes” [With all their vowels, their consonants, (words) stretch, open up, inhale, become saturated, fill up, swell, spread over infinite space, over boundless happinesses].

Language exists as a paradise made of visible, audible, palpable, palatable words. . .

monique wittig, "the site of action"

[hellogirlslikegirlslikeboysdo]

You ever regret an idea that was never yours? - A Flash Memoir

Summary: In 5 billion years, all of the lights will go out, and all of this will be all the less nasty and all the less disappointing.

All we can hear is the clang of my fork against the measuring cup (I've just realized that you've served me ramen in a measuring cup, ramen because in a house overflowing with farmer's market-looking ingredients, you wanted instant ramen that you didn't even want because the green packaging looked too unfamiliar, and in a measuring cup because you're fucking hilarious and the array of kitschy, bright bowls that I'm sure are lining the shelves behind those high cabinets simply do not appeal to you in this moment).

I don't know if you can hear the football game 10 feet away, you probably can, but I can't. I usually hear everything, all the time, at all volumes, simultaneously. Simba's panting. The shuffling of the cushions we're suffocating. The crunch of gummies (well, really I just smell that one, but I smell loud enough to hear it). For some anxiety-induced reason, I only have access to dishware unwillingly mingling (I can practically hear my dad's complaint at the sound) and the sound of my own voice.

All dinner, it's been asking you questions, but the only one I remember is what you do in your free time, which transforms into what you look forward to on a day off in search of a more satisfying answer. I ask to start conversation, and to be an interesting guest that you actively want to bring over again, and because you like getting philosophical during 1am manic episodes and I lack the awareness to consider those being special circumstances, and because I'm vaguely worried about how much time you spend scrolling memes you've already saved and already scrolled.

Probably something that can be dealt with later, but this is your weekend trip and you're quiet, and I'm worried, even if it's the ever-encompassing buzz of worry that floats around whenever I'm...around.

You don't respond to "Luc, do you ever..." (a pause of regret) "...do you ever feel...trapped by where you are in life? Like, what you have to do, and all that?". I apologize and regret spoiling your trip and you tell me that your "...social battery is kinda low?"

"[Oh, fuck,] really?" (I don't swear outside of my writing, but the fuck is implied).

Hunched into yourself and tiptoeing like you're headed to timeout, You scurry off to your room at my request and assurance to go talk your boyfriend to sleep, giving me a chance to inhale the rest of a ramen like a vicious animal and chat your mother's ear off about historical creative nonfiction and get worried (sensing a theme, yet?) about your social battery having enough juice for him. It's jealousy, probably, burning the back of my throat more than the accidental heap of chili flakes I threw into the broth, because I've never met a friend's lover that I haven't wanted to eat alive and envy is one of the deadlier sins.

Same face, though. Same itchy voice, same manufactured laugh as punctuation, same brain to pick apart. Same scalp to soothe.

(He's judgy, foul-tempered, foul-mannered, and calculated, stubby pointer finger in hand at all times. So am I. I'd probably want a fresher face to look at too.)

[purplesurveys]

1747

What colour are the sheets on your bed? Black.

Have you ever had a storage locker? If so, what is/was stored in it? I've never had a locker other than the one I had in high school, which had nothing but textbooks in it.

Do you have a gas, electric or induction cooktop? That would be gas.

Are you interested in plants? Not in the least. Sorry Namjoon...

How far away is the nearest capital city? Manila is a little over 20 kilometers away.

What was the last movie trailer you watched? I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you because I never watch those. The closest thing is probably catching a few seconds of DP's trailer on Netflix, the one that automatically plays when you hover over the choice, but I never finished it as I had gone straight to Episode 1 lol.

What's your favourite meal of the day? Dinner; it's the only one I regularly have.

Do you know your neighbours? Hardly. They keep to themselves and so do we.

Tell me all your plans for the next week or so. Just the usual chaos at work. Thursday I have a client lunch I need to join even though it's suffocating to think about, but apart from that my week is free for making plans. Oh I do plan on watching the rest of Prison Playbook which I started this afternoon but holy shit is each episode a lifetime and a half long.

What can you hear and smell right now? SOOOOOO my sister recently got me into the creamy keyboard part of the internet, so I have an hour-long keyboard ASMR thing playing right now lol. I have that playing simultaneously with a SE SO NEON playlist and surprisingly they work well together! I can also hear my aircon whirring.

I can faintly make out the aroma from my coffee but that's it as far as smelling things.

Are you expecting anything in the mail? My Jack in the Box should be arriving any time in the next few weeks.

Do you hate cars with loud exhausts? Yes.

How many roommates have you had? I've never had a roommate.

Have you ever broken any bones in your feet or hands? No broken bones but I have sprained my left ankle twice. Idk why that one area on my foot is so vulnerable hahah.

Do you keep your house tidy or is it always pretty cluttered? It only gets cluttered during the day when I need to routinely whip out a variety of items for work (boxes, paper bags, envelopes, etc) but I make sure that shit is clean and out of sight by the end of the day because I don't want to be surrounded with remnants of my job when I'm supposed to be relaxing.

What's the altitude of your town or city? Idk and I can't be bothered to look it up.

Do you like movies with vampires in them? No. Twilight is the sole exception but liking the saga doesn't mean I'm into vampire movies as a whole.

Have you ever bought groceries online? For myself, yeah. There was a point during the pandemic when I tried to convince my parents to try getting our groceries online, but they weren't so much a fan of the ridiculous delivery fees which is super understandable.

If you have a pet, what is its favourite treat? If you don't have a pet, what's one of your favourite treats? :) They love chicken bits and Cooper in particular already recognizes the word 'chicken' and is ready to do tricks the moment I say it out loud lol.

Do you own any items of clothing that were originally borrowed from someone else? Yes. I have a pair of yellow pants that Rita lent me, but I wasn't ever able to return it because the pandemic happened.

What was the last thing you drank other than water, and was it yummy? Coffee. Yes it's good :)

How do you usually style your hair? A half-pony is the typical way to go for me, but sometimes I'll go for a low pony.

What's your favourite kind of soup to make? I don't make soup, but my favorite is miso.

Do you get distracted easily when you read? It can happen. I'm for the most part a quick reader, but I will occasionally zone out and keep going over the same sentence without even realizing I've been repeating the same words for 5 minutes.

What kind of questions do you generally dislike when it comes to Bzoink surveys? I can't stress enough how much I dislike philosophical and hypothetical-situation questions. Also questions about Target and Walmart and states and seasons.

What will you do after you finish this survey? I want to take another one but we'll see how that fares. I have to stay up until 4 because I need to catch Jungkook at the Global Citizen Festival :((

If you play The Sims, which of all the games is your favourite iteration? I never was a regular player of The Sims.

Do you remember the first house you lived in? Not at all. My parents moved out of it when I was only a few months old.

When was the last time you threw up, and do you know why? Thursday. I had HORRIBLE motion sickness the entire ride home.

Who was the last person you said "I love you" to? Not sure, I think it may have been Andi.

[myunhingedthoughtz]

Strangers to Friends:

When we first meet I’m intrigued.

You are like me: kind, empathetic, understanding, driven, and warm.

Conversation flows like a warm summer breeze. Warm, cool, a relief. We cut each other off simultaneously.

Not out of rudeness but out of excitement. We both have so much to say our words seem to be busting out at the seams and tumbling into each other’s.

You are like me: seeking a new connection and feel the excitement bubbling at the thought that you have found it within me.

Ever since that first day we keep bumping into each other. I feel as if the universe is giving me a sign so I take it.

Acquaintances to Friends:

We sit and watch the sunset. Spilling secrets that have been screaming in both of us to get out for the longest of time as the sky is a beautiful hue of red orange and pink.

You are like me: the oldest, family is complicated, and trying your best.

I find comfort and warmth in our similarities while also hoping you are too.

Friends:

My phone buzzes.

Your name pops up. I immediately answer.

You tell me that you need someone to talk to. I instantly drop everything to help you. My homework sits neglected on my desk as I rush over to your place.

You are like me: in need of comfort and companionship.

We talk about how hard and suffocating it feels to be us.

We talk about feeling helpless in everything we aim to fix.

We talk about the hardships but also talk about how glad we are to have each other to rely on during them.

It feels like a promise. A promise that we will always be there for each other.

You are like me: needy but self-sufficient, content but filled with angst, a flailing perfectionist who’s too entrapped in their flaws to see they are already everything they’re aiming to be.

A beautiful mess.

“Friends”:

Ever since that call my phone is filled with your texts.

One night I come over. I end up sleeping over but you assure me that we are still “friends”.

You are like me: ignoring and brushing over what happened last night.

I grow closer to you and consider you one of my closest ”friends”.

Friends (for real this time):

You call me and immediately know something’s wrong. I don’t understand how you could possibly tell, you are one of the first.

The simple understanding. The attention to detail. The attention to me. I feel understood. In that moment I decide I like feeling understood by you.

In that moment I hate that you know me so well. Later on it means more to me than you’ll ever know and it’ll be a memory I forever cherish.

You are just like me: always noticing others but too afraid to be noticed.

Friends?

There has been a shift in our dynamic and I scramble to find when it happened.

I push it off. We can be just friends right?

You are like me: too scared to admit the change for fear of ruin.

Friends?

I work up my courage.

We talk.

We agree to stop being friends. We agree to stop being anything.

You are like me: self sabotaging and unable to admit your faults.

You are not like me: unusually cruel and indifferent, a contradictory to who I thought u were.

I now see you for who you are.

Friends?

I am now stuck in this place of purgatory. One foot is stuck and the other is ready to leap out, yearning to be free.

One part of me is stuck in the memories, stuck into missing who you were.

The second part of me knows this is who you are and can no longer miss who you’ve been.

You are like me: too afraid to call it quits, too afraid to admit it will not be the same.

Our Unspoken Rules and Common Courtesy:

1. I pretend not to see you and you pretend not to see me.

Although I so desperately wished you would say hi.

2. No contact: I don’t text you and you don’t text me either.

3. I try my best to erase the memories and you let me.

Part of me may never forgive you for this.

You are like me: too scared to speak the unspeakable, too scared to fix it.

Friends to Strangers:

Memories of our lore, late night conversations till morning, embraces of warmth and comfort tend to rush through my head from time to time.

Despite me trying to forget.

You are no longer like me.

Friends to Strangers:

I’ll pretend to not know you adhering to rule number one.

I’ll pretend that I didn’t know you at all adhering to rule number three.

I’ll pretend that we were never friends and you’ll do the same.

I’ll pretend that I don’t sometimes cry when I see something that reminds me of you.

I’ll pretend that I don’t wish to hear you say my nickname again.

I’ll pretend that I don’t miss you and that you don’t miss me.

In this way you will forever be like me: too prideful to understand, too prideful to try.

Friends to Strangers:

I so desperately wish that time could reverse so that I wouldn’t have to mourn the distance that’s been placed between us.

So I wouldn’t have to mourn the process of becoming strangers after being friends.

So I wouldn’t have to forget everything I love about you just to get over all the hurt you’ve bestowed unto me.

Our inevitable fate is like you; unusually cruel and indifferent.

A bittersweet reminder I’ll learn to cherish someday.

The love I have for you will flow in the wind, reminding me of our first initial conversation. It’ll hang out there with nowhere to go.

Now we will forever remain.

Friends to strangers.

xx Hazel