#but as my first crafting plush project ever

[betasuppe]

Rinz's identity disc is too big for he gotdamn hand!!!😢😢😢

[charlieslowartsies]

FINISHED MY TOOTHLESS PLUSH!!

Materials, info and some comments under the RM!

Toothless' Pattern I purchased

Materials: 6 yards of black minky 1 yard red minky 5 yards of Poly-Fil extra loft medium quilt batting 18 oz of poly pellets (4 oz in each foot) 2 Mainstay firm bed pillows for stuffing 1 spool of purple thread for the top stitching details on his tail, hip and main wings 2.5 spools of black thread Dark green, lime green, goldenrod and light yellow embroidery floss black acrylic paint white fabric paint Velcro one very old, small and cranky sewing machine who somehow survived this ordeal several comfort shows, podcasts, and music to listen to

This was my winter break project! Granted I started bits and pieces of the process in early December, but once my two weeks off hit he really started getting worked on lol.

I know it's hard to tell from photos, but he is A BIG CHONGUS. Toothless is 5.5 feet from head to tail tip, and has a 9 foot wingspan. He weighs about 8 lbs.

He took about 60ish hours and was very complex. My budget was $200 and he came in at $202! That includes things like the bulldog clips that I bought when he was being pinned because the minky was so slippery! This cost EXcludes a sewing machine, or things like an embroidery ring which my mom had, so I was very lucky in several areas—but he still was not cheap, either by expense or by time and sweat/tears!

Of course, the minky was by far the most of the cost, coming in at $122. I’d say the batting would be next, but I waited and snagged a good deal at my local craft store and got the batting for $18. I HIGHLY recommend buying bed pillows. The original maker of the pattern used IKEA pillows I believe.

I increased his size by 20%, so I printed him at 120% and guesstimated on the minky amount. My WORST mistake was forgetting to mirror the WINGS, which meant I had to recut two of the four pieces of fabric. (I should have marked it on the pattern, which I did mark well for things like number count.) Had I not done this, I would have used a lot less minky. I bought 7 yards and only needed 5.5 before my error.

(Now I’ve got scraps and a whole yard left sitting there whispering that it wants to be made into a Krobus plushie…who seems much less of a hurdle than Toothless.)

I stuffed Toothy’s hip fins and tail fins with one layer of quilt batting. His wings however, are double layered with the batting for extra plush, warmth, and durability. His eyes are hand embroidered (my first time!) but stitched on with the machine. Toothless has poly pellets in his feet to help support his bulk, but most of his weight is in his body, hips and start of his tail so he actually sits up really well.

He was a huge labor of love for sure! The pattern was great, the instructions were…less great. But my mom helped me figure out a lot of the troubling bits. Some parts were easy to follow and others were basically "bing bong fuck ya life." Despite that, I do suggest this pattern. But this is definitely an intermediate or advanced pattern. They also sell the eyes for those that have access to an embroidery machine.

I followed the pattern closely as I desired. I did omit the back spikes on his rear legs, and I couldn’t embroider his lil nose by hand ^^; I also did not make his blue alpha fins because of expense and mistrust in my own skills...also, I kinda wanted HTTYD1 Toothless haha. I love the series as a whole but the og movie is literally one of the reasons I went to college, and it went into my thesis as well.

I want to remake his prosthetic at some point when I have time and energy, but for now I’m pleased with 99% of him, especially since this is my first plushie I’ve ever made. I do not regret any of my personal changes and I’m totally in love with him.

[pbandjesse]

I'm not feeling so good tonight. I don't know if I'm dehydrated or what but after my programs today my face started feeling really hot and I have just been feeling a little unwell since then. I am glad I can just go to sleep soon.

We were up a little to late last night. So I slept an extra half hour. James left for work a little before me. I was dressed and out of the house really quickly. But then I struggled to get the car out of the parking spot and felt really stupid and was overly stressed. It was dumb and I felt bad.

But it was fine. I would get to camp only a few minutes late. I would get my forms sent off to creative alliance. And it did take a few minutes but I had done most of the writing yesterday so it was all good.

I went to go set up my program. It felt wrong though. Like I was teaching about bats but the project was just. Trace a bat. That is stupid. So I expanded on it. They would trace their hands to make the wings and see how the webbing between the fingers is like a bats wing and they would use spoons to create the body and head and we had googly eyes. And they werent perfect but for an idea I had in 15 minutes that was just fine.

The group came a little early. So Nick and Celia were not set up yet. I would sort of take charge and make sure the bus went to the right place and get the kids in the right direction. And it would be a fun day!

For one it was beautiful out. I was feeling a little weird physically but I was able to enjoy the beautiful day. I also got to be in my art building which I always love. So it was a good day.

My first three groups were awesome. I got a good flow with the program. I would ask the kids what they knew about bats, then based on what they said I was able to use some laminated pages to expand on what they knew. I had worn my nocturnal pollinators sweatshirt and had my bat plush bag Lewis with me as visual aids. And we had just a wonderful discussion about the four different species of bats in Maryland and how every bug and animal is important, even the icky ones. And it was lovely. But then I hsd to tell them this was now serious time. And I went in a talk about what to do if you found a bat, how you should never ever touch them, to get an adult immediately, and we talked about rabies. How dangerous it is, what to do if you are exposed, I talked about my shots I got and how scary that experience was. And these kids were so focused on me and had excellent questions and I for sure freaked them out but it was for the best. This is serious! Especially because some bats have been found in the area with rabies. We have to be careful and vigilant.

Once they were good and freaked out we did our craft. I had them fold their paper hamburger style, then trace their hand, make swoops between the fingers, and then cut that out. While they worked on that I pretaped spoons and then once they were ready I went around and dipped my finger in some glue to dot on the spoons for the eyes and noses. While they taped on the ears and decorated the wings. We had a really good system going. And that's basically how it went for each group.

The first group had a couple extra minutes so I had them go out front and throw their bats to try and get them to glide. I ended up talking to a dad who was very freaked out by the rabies conversation. He said he wasn't afraid of bats but now maybe he was and I was like. We don't need to be afraid but we do need to be cautious and aware and at a distance. He was a very nice man and had some excellent questions and I was glad I knew enough to be able to answer.

We had a very brief lunch but I was able to reset my table and eat most of the soup I brought. We sat in the office and talked and gossiped about the children. They were mainly really good so it wasn't a problem. The one mom is a corrections officer which was interesting, but her main way to control the kids was through yelling like they were inmates so that was a little deregulating.

And that was the group I would struggle with

After lunch we went back to the hacienda and the transition went poorly because neither teacher was understanding how to get the for up out and to their next program. So we all just were sitting out on the porch waiting, despite me trying to tell her how to handle it. We would start 10 minutes late.

The group I had right after lunch was only 8 kids and they were nice and cleaned up well. Just a little rowdy. But then that last group was just a lot. Half of them were just ignoring me and talking to each other and I was getting wildly distracted and none of the parents jumped in even when I asked for help and they asked who and I told them specifically. But also you are 3 feet away you can't see them?? It was bizarre and it made me exhausted in a way the rest of the day hadnt. They would struggle to clean up but I wouldn't let them leave until they did.

But then they were off. They were able to tell me that there were 4 species of bats native to Maryland and tell me what those four bats are (the evening bat, the red bat, the tricolor bat, and the little brown bat). And that felt like a success.

I would lay in my hammock for 20 minutes. Until Elizabeth texted me asking where her bracelet had gone too. I had found it this morning and put it in my backpack for safekeeping until I saw her but with the feildtrip coming early it slipped my mind. So I walked down there and got her her bracelet.

Then there was just some small stuff to do. Some computer tasks. Then me, Sarah, and Celia had snacks and talked while I embroidered a little.

Elizabeth, Heather, and Alexi were off to Ikea to buy new desks. I was only slightly jealous.

I went up to the pool house to start working on painting the deck tables. But I was super disappointed to find that the spray paint is not as opaque as advertised and I will need a base color. So I will do that in the morning before it rains. I already had James put the cans in my backpack.

I would go back up to the office. Finish up some small tasks. And chat with Sarah about how to clean the lodge tables in a way we haven't already been doing. We need some more instructions tomorrow I think. For now though it was time to go.

I drove to the Dutch market. And I had a great time there. I started with soaps. I got pumpkin for James and chai for me. Then I sweet peppers from the dollar table, and a strawberry fruit tray that I'm excited about. I got pretzels, and then baked goods. And I got Mac and cheese. It was a really good haul for $35.

I was still not feeling great though. I am afraid I am getting sick. My cheeks are concerningly warm and flush. I am dealing with a small headache. I just don't feel good. I am trying to be positive but I just am not feeling great but I also absolutely do not have time to be sick.

I struggled getting home. Traffic was bad at times. But I made it back. I sat in the car and extra couple minutes to finish my podcast. And James came down and brought the market bags up. That was very sweet of them.

The evening has been nice. I put all my foods away. I swiffered the living room. I did some sewing. I finally sat down and fixed that bear for the man at the market. I think it came out super cute. I want to take the picture in the same place on Saturday for a good before and after.

I would take a bath. And have been cuddling with sweetp for a while now. It was a nice evening. I still am not feeling great. But that is okay.

Tomorrow we have a group but it should be an easy one. And I am looking forward to a rainy afternoon.

I hope you all sleep well. Take care of yourself. Goodnight!!

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: James Waudby

Photo credit: Matthew Sturgess

James Waudby has been in bands for decades, starting in the late 1990s with Salako, which made three records and a Peel Session and toured with Pavement. Pavement drummer Steve West later tapped Waudby for his Marble Bay project and the musician also sings lead in Horse Guard Parade. On the Ballast Miles, however, resembles none of these projects. It’s a spare, lovely 1960s’ influenced folk classic and one of the best albums of 2023 so far. In his Dusted review, Christian Carey observed, “Waubdy’s guitar-playing, in particular, displays an intricacy that belies its dynamic level. Harmonics, pitch bends, dissonant verticals, and drones create an atmosphere that sits astride blues and folk.”

Here’s a list of some of the albums that I continually return to. I suppose they could be filed under good tunes played in an interesting way.

Royal Trux — Cats and Dogs

I used to listen to John Peel’s late-night Radio One show in the early nineties when one night, as I was dozing off, “Spectre” by Royal Trux came on and it totally changed everything. I realized there were no rules and nothing was off limits. You could write a good tune and play it any way you liked.

Townes Van Zandt — S/T

I listen to Townes Van Zandt, and I believe everything he says. Undiluted, raw song craft. Some of the bleakest songs, but also very beautiful. “Waitin' Around to Die” is the classic, but every song on this record is genius.

Shirley Collins and Davy Graham — Folk Roots New Routes

The arrangements on this album are mind blowing. In some songs they fit together effortlessly and in other songs you marvel at how Davy Graham came up with such inventive arrangements. And throughout, Shirley Collins’ voice serenely sings in her own beautiful style. It must have been amazing to hear this album when it first came out.

Matthew J Rolin — S/T

Matthew J. Rolin by Matthew J. Rolin

There’s so much great instrumental guitar music coming out at the moment and all the players have their own style, but Matthew J Rolin is always so tuneful. I love all his records, but this one just pips the others as my favorite.

Neil Young — On the Beach

If I could only listen to one artist for the rest of my life it would have to be Neil Young. There’s so much depth in his work, especially the first decade period. I could have chosen any album, live record, or bootleg, but the lyrics on this LP are some of his best. Another week I might have chosen After the Gold Rush. It’s all amazing.

Plush — More You Becomes You

It is so hard to make an album sound this simple and convey so much feeling in such a short selection of piano-led song sketches. Just stunning from start to finish.

Karen Dalton — In My Own Time

This album is perfect. Not sure there is anything else I can say about it.

Toby Hay — New Music for the Twelve String Guitar

New Music For The 12 String Guitar by Toby Hay

A brilliant Welsh guitarist who has been producing some great instrumental records on his own and with Jim Geddes. I think this one works the best as a whole piece of work. The recording envelops you and he has a beautiful guitar.

Robert Wyatt — Ruth is Stranger than Richard

This album should be a multi-million seller. I can’t understand why it is never in the top ten lists of all-time best albums. Robert Wyatt’s body of work will stand the test of time, but this record stands out. Playful, great tunes, insightful lyrics — what more could you want?

Bert Jansch — Jack Orion

The best album ever made? I think so. With similar tunings throughout, and the same guitar riffs reappearing, the album feels like a suite of folk music rather than a collection of songs. Tracks like “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” and Jansch’s masterpiece, “Blackwater Side,” stand out, but the sequencing of the songs to create an ebb and flow draws you in so you can’t stop listening until every note has finished.

[dove-da-birb]

Knitting Pattern; The Rough Guide

So I attempted to make a pattern last night. I don't mention any specific yarn, needle gauge, or how much you need to cast on, off, or add and decrease in stitch count. Why? I went into this project with just a picture in mind, and that was potato Grim. Was going to make him life-size, but he was being difficult, so, potato.

Main Body

The body needs to be completed first so you can size everything else to your liking. I decided to not decrease the stitches at the end, so that he has a base that he can comfortably sit on

Back leggie x 2. I did these next as I was tired of knitting one large piece. Where you cast on will be where you embroider later for his paws and beans. Provides a nice resting period.

The head is next, as he looks very creepy being headless. Also this allows for you to know where to place his neck fluff and arms, and size them appropriately.

Neck fluff. Since the torso and head are done, you can make that fluff! Also so the arms can go in the proper position.

Front leggie x 2. The last part of the main body. I'm going to make them a bit longer than the back legs, no real reason, I just thought he would be cute that way.

Main tail. It's mainly just a long rectangle until you reach the tip. You'll have to increase the stitch count until you reach your desired devil tail levels, and from there you'll decrease.

Pitchfork x 2. Once the main tail is done, the pitchforks can now be made.

The Face Details (can be done after you complete the head)

Ear x 2. His ears need to be made first; again, to size everything else.

Large flame x 2. To get the skinny points, I'll be casting off until I have two stitches on my needles

Small flame x 2. Same as the large flame, but fewer cast on stitches and not as tall.

Embroidering

I'm embroidering the paw pads, toe beans, pupils, nose, and mouth, as they are quite small and would be a pain to knit. Just grab your desired colour. It can also be done with yarn or spare fabric.

Supplies

You can use whatever yarn weight and needle gauge you want; the torso and head would probably be easier working on the round though. This pattern could also work for crochet and sewing; I just like making myself suffer. Also any colours that you think can work.

You will need a stitch holder for when you make the neck fluff and ear flames. You can find these at any craft store, but Walmart also has them in the yarn section.

You will need stuffing, I'm just using some leftover stuff; I got mine from Walmart (I'm cheap okay).

My Notes

What I'm Using; weight 4 yarn on gauge 3 US [3.25mm] straight needles. The yarn I'm using is all thrifted, gifted, or leftovers from past projects so I don't know the exact brand or colours.

I would recommend a large skein of medium grey, a bright blue, and a light blue. Also, in the spirit of Ramshackle, try to thrift the majority of yarn and tools, I probably spent less than $5 on this project.

I'll make a separate pattern for when I make the ribbon and gemstone, as I don't know if I'll knit that or use another method. Yes, it would be cute and matching if it were knitted, but I'll probably curse myself after making the main plush. "Why, why did I make this." Rip my fingers.

Stitch Type; I'm knitting one row, and then using a pearl stitch on the other, as that is my personal favourite look of knitted pieces (and the only stitches I know)

KEEP TRACK OF YOUR CAST ON! Especially for the legs, torso, and head. And likewise, keep track of how many stitches you add on what row, so that you have close to matching pieces.

For the gradient on the tail, I'm actually going to attempt to dye it using calligraphy ink that I have lying around. Could also be done with paint.

I originally started knitting Grim because I didn't want to give Disney any more of my money than I already do, plus shipping is already expensive where I am. But also for a thrifted/closet cosplay for the Ramshackle Prefect (shameless self-insert). I don't know if I'll ever go to a con, but hey, I wanted a Grim plush and I can knit and sew, so I'm making a Grim plush.

This is a free pattern. I don't intend or want to make a profit off of this, especially since it's only a rough guide and only has the shapes you need and is of a copyrighted character. This is made out of a place of love and hyper-fixation. But if you do make one, please feel free to tag me; I would love to see your gremlin potato son.

Tagging a mutual, since they were interested in the pattern; @krenenbaker

[jedi-bird]

While cleaning up the other day I came across an extra invitation from one of the only birthday parties I was allowed to invite my friends to as a child. The only reason I have it is, because much like that day and the memory, it was messed up and couldn't be handed out.

My birthday always fell during winter break. Because of this, after preschool ended, I was usually only allowed to invite my cousins. Little me couldn't understand why. Everyone else got to have their friends over, even if the party wasn't on their actual birthday. So one time, my mom obliged. She planned a party at a Disney store, one of the only ones in our area at the time; it also had a cafe in it and I used to love their "fancy" french fries (they were the first seasoned fries I had ever had and little seven year old me thought they were the best thing ever). She let me pick the theme and the invitations and the cake plates.

I was obsessed with 101 Dalmatians at the time, so that's what I went with. We carefully filled out the invitations, omitting the one that got messed up, and my mom drilled it into me to make sure I handed them out at school. The day before winter break was to begin, I stood in front of the class and told everyone that they were invited and gave all of my class the cards. My class at pretty small so this wasn't that big of a deal at the time. I was so proud of myself, since I was very shy and hated speaking in class. Plus I had a stutter and had practiced and managed for once to speak clearly. It felt like a big achievement to me.

Day of the party, several days after my actual birthday because at the time nothing was open on that day, we get there early and set up. I'm dressed up nice, because my mom insisted, with my hair manhandled into a hair style I hate but I was too excited to care. Slowly, people started to arrive. First my grandparents. Then my cousins and my aunt and uncle. Then two of my friends and their parents. I'm beyond thrilled and running around with everyone having fun.

An hour past the party start time and no one else has yet to show up. The people working there tell my mom that they can't wait any longer and the food needs to come out or we need to forfit the money and leave. So we sit down to eat. I think everything is great. I'm getting to share something I like with people I like and I'm getting an actual party like you see on TV. Tiny me is having the day of her life.

My mom, on the other hand, is silent and fuming. From what my grandma told me later, they did refund her the unused portion of the food even though the policy was to not. Guess they felt bad that only half the prepaid meals got eaten. I open presents and got some plushie dalmatians and just noticed none of this. I was happy.

After the party ended, my grandma wanted to walk around the mall for a bit. I was excited to show her around because she never really drove this far unless it was for family events and I hadn't seen her in a while (I would wind up living permanently with her about a year after this, but that's a different story). There was a store that sold "country inspired decor" and people's homemade craft projects. My grandma, who did spoil me quite often, bought me a fox doll (just a plush red fox that sat like a human) as an extra present. I was on cloud nine by the time my mom and I returned to our car to start the long drive home.

It's important to note that my stepfather refused to come because he didn't think kids deserved parties of any kind. Had he been there, there would have been nothing happy about this day to remember.

We start driving. I'm happily chatting away about the day and how much I loved it and thanking her and just, for the first time in a long time, happy.

My mom lit into me. She spent the next hour and a half of that drive screaming at me about how I lied about handing out the invitations. About how I embarrassed her and ruined all her hard work. About how much time and money she spent to do this and I ruined it. I cried most of the way home as she kept spitting more and more hate at me. She wouldn't listen to my explaining over and over how I did give it the invitations. The screaming felt never-ending.

She didn't speak to me for the rest of the break.

Come the end of winter break, on the first day back at school, my teacher comes running out to the car as soon as my mom pulls up to drop me off. She has a stack of papers in her hands. " I'm so sorry!" she said, holding them. "I forgot to double check if the children remembered to take everything home with them. I found these in most of the desks this morning. I hope there was a problem."

In her hands is the invitations for the kids who didn't show up. My mom refused to look at me and just quietly thanked her and took them. I told her "I told you I gave them out" and ran from the car.

I was never allowed to have another birthday party with friends after that. It was family only or nothing. And honestly, that was the last fun birthday I remember. I still have that fox doll but not the dalmatians. I only kept what had good memories attached to it. Except that invitation. I'm keeping that for now. I'll probably burn it some day and be done with it.

[thelukaskaiser]

Keep Going

Lukas’ Blog - January 1, 2023 - 5:30PM

Blogging isn’t really a thing anymore, but that isn’t going to deter me from re-starting this one. Sorry about that. I know it’s been a minute since you’ve engaged with one, so I’ll forgive you if you’ve forgotten what to say or do. Let’s just sit here for a moment and relish in the fact that we’re still alive - and both old enough to remember “blogging.” 

I remember the first time I found a “blog” - it was in 1999 - and I found the Livejournal of a graphic designer I really liked who was living in New York City. And in 1999, I was living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin - on the East Side, near UWM. If you’ve seen the movie American Movie, the place where Mark edits his film was about a block from my house. 

And in 1999, I was a hyper creative high school senior, 17 years old and entering into his final year of school, hoping to be accepted (early acceptance) to NYU so he could pursue his dreams of becoming a filmmaker / comedian / media person (which, hey, I was able to achieve - so that’s damn cool). 

And I was into comic books and indie toys and cool stuff and there was this plush toy I bought through Giant Robot magazine - which was a wildly influential magazine on my sensibilities and likes at the time (and hell, probably still is) - and the plush toy came in the mail and the tag to the toy had a URL to the artist’s blog. 

Not “Vlog” but blog. Because you couldn’t really host videos at the time. I mean, it wasn’t that normal for people to have websites either. I had a couple sites - I had taught myself how to make stuff in HTML - but I had never seen a blog before. It was a LiveJournal - and I was absolutely stunned. Blown away. 

Because I just sat there for days on end and read about this artist’s life. Mundane things and important things, triumphs and tribulations - and I was absolutely enthralled. That I could just see how a normal person lived - and lived, in particular, in New York City. Because that was where I wanted to live. 

And I would write down on paper the places the artist would go to - the restaurants, the stores, the bars. And I would just dream - dream I was with him - and feel less alone. 

Blogging wasn’t ever something I kept up regularly, but as a consumer, man, did I absolutely love the Blog era. I mean, we talk about Twitter and independent journalists and all that - but in the mid 2000s, I worked for and ran several blogs. And we were making REAL money - off of advertising and merch and other stuff - and it was a grind, but it was an honest one. And we had our own audiences and fans - and some of those people who became fans of mine from that era still follow my work to this day. It’s a trip. 

So, I’ve decided to blog again. In short bursts and longer bursts too. I don’t really care how many people read the “blog” per se - though it is important for me to publish these entries. I think that in addition to my various daily / weekly journals I keep for myself - my morning pages, which are like a brain dump right when I wake up, along with my “Simple Diary” - which is a regularly updated, quite personal record of my life for the last couple years or so, I want to begin to craft a public persona - one that I’m okay with sharing with complete strangers. 

I had a call with someone about a potential project - something I don’t want to share yet. And on the call, we began to talk about my experience in media and the entertainment industry and it was clear that I really don’t write down or share with anyone my experience. 

Now - that’s sort of normal to me? I feel like most people don’t document their lives - or at least they used to not? I suppose social media has turned us all into oversharers, certainly. But like, if you go to Facebook and look at some of the connections you have from your hometown - there are a lot of people who haven’t posted on their social media pages in years. Because this constant deluge of personal information isn’t normal. 

And, look, am I normal? No. I’ve always had a skewed perspective on life. I have pushed myself to self promote at many times throughout my life. It’s just that the last couple of jobs I had - my current gig at Westbrook and my previous gig at Viacom - were both sort of “insider” roles that worked best when no one knew the roles existed. The Viacom one was in part because there was a ton of writing we were doing - a lot of it comedy writing - but we weren’t part of the WGA, even though our shows were all signed to the union. 

We were just nameless / faceless “Creatives” - sort of ad agency model. 

And at Westbrook, working with public figures to craft their digital brands and personas is a very behind the scenes role. If you’re doing your job right, the public figure you work for seems to be generating this content and this digital brand from thin air, seemingly effortlessly so. 

Which - at times, is true (okay that’s never true). But at times it’s like, well if I tooted my own horn here, it would actually hurt my whole business model. 

Now - we have evolved what we do at Westbrook Media a considerable amount - yes we still help some public figures with their social media, but we mostly get paid to MAKE CONTENT. And I think just about anyone would know that making content takes a lot of effort - both hard effort - like writing and planning and editing and shooting and all that - as well as soft effort - like strategic thinking and positioning and making sure your clients are making the RIGHT content and not just making what they think is going to be hot. 

And I’ve realized that in both the hard and soft labors at my current gig - managing an incredible team of creatives who are truly some of the smartest and most innovative thinkers I’ve ever been able to work with - it doesn’t help anyone for me, as the boss, to set the example of being the humble behind the scenes guy. Because then everyone feels the pressure to have that dance - should I take credit? Should I not? 

It’s tough! But rather than “take credit” I think I want to try to begin to focus my energies on exploring the things I’m struggling with - the things I’m excited about - and using my work, and my experience, and my day to day life (with a lot of discretion) as the medium to explore these topics, knowing that my life may be a good example for other people. 

So - this is to say I’m excited to be back in the business of writing and publishing written content in this space. I will likely attempt to turn these posts into audio / video things as well at some point, though my space is not clean enough or well laid out at the moment, and the anxiety of showing off my messiness would be too great to bear and I’d explode into a million pieces or something. 

Regardless, I am in my space - and I am lucky to have a space to create things in. Both in my professional as well as my personal / creative life. And I do not take that for granted. 

I remember quite clearly the five years when I was living in my mom’s attic, working from home, constantly grinding to try to freelance and publish content and become a writer - and how painful it all felt - and how isolating it all was. 

Look - people definitely can go longer than five years to try to crack through - and I had some positive experience mixed in with those painful ones - but from when I graduated college, in 2004, until I landed as a junior writer/producer at Spike TV in 2009, I can say without a doubt I skated quite close to the edge of fully giving up on my dreams. And every time I tried to pursue something BIG or CREATIVE or IMPORTANT - like the screenplay I wrote with my former boss, or my stage play, or the podcasts I tried to launch at the time, or the sketches or digital content I was trying to submit, or the numerous late night TV packets I was writing and submitting every single day - it would always blow up in my face. 

Now, looking back, it was amazing that none of that stuff worked out - because I was clearing out my mind of all the horrible, bad ideas I carried around with me while getting the experience of DOING THE WORK… 

I was learning how to write screenplays and how to direct videos and edit and all that - skills I still use to this day, in a much more professional setting - but learning how to do those things in practical ways that school could never teach you. And thankfully, none of my output was good, so the cringe-y and stupid ideas I was churning out will hopefully never be seen by anyone. 

I can look back at my isolation and loneliness and anger at that time with fondness - knowing that I was growing so quickly, even though it didn’t feel like it. 

And maybe you’re at home, feeling like you’re hitting your head against a wall over and over again - maybe you’re publishing content that no one seems to care about, or you’re applying to job after job and no one cares. It SUCKS. I know what that feels like. 

But if you can somehow orient your mind around gaining those SOFT SKILLS in the process - and understanding that a few years of obscurity will allow you to be BETTER - well maybe it won’t be so painful all the time. 

The surprises in store for us in 2023 are going to be painful - it’s going to be extra hard for people to get things SEEN and to get things MADE. Our normal modes of selling content, our normal ways of distributing things to audiences - it’s all going to feel so lost and so pointless. So we damn well better focus on the GROWTH and not the SUCCESS. Because otherwise, I’m telling you, every day is gonna feel more painful than the last. 

And the goal of making stuff is to feel less painful - less judged, less alone. So if the stuff you’re making is just making you feel more lonely, more rejected, it’s gonna push you to give up your dreams. And that would be a damn tragedy. Because you never know who’s moved by your stuff - you never know who needs an encouraging word. You never know who’s at their wit’s end and feels utterly isolated and alone. 

Yknow, how I felt less alone as a teenager in Milwaukee, reading those entries back in 1999. In some ways, all the therapy and personal work I’ve done to transform myself over the last 2 or so years has done something remarkable - it’s made me actually REMEMBER more. And it’s given me a helluva lot of empathy for myself in those vulnerable and quieter moments. 

I kept a diary after I fell in love with blogging, with the hope of turning it into a blog one day. It was the year 2000 and I was a Freshman at NYU at that point. I lived on 10th street and Broadway in a dorm called Brittany Hall. Which at the time was the only dorm with no air conditioning.

We lived in these big, concrete rooms - 3 of us, me and my two roommates. And we were all so hopelessly depressed and horny. Wanting to meet new people - yearning for life - knowing we were at the precipice of a new life experience (which ultimately was 9/11 - which happened the next year - we just didn’t know it yet). 

And I kept this journal - and the entries were PAINFUL. They were overwrought and filled to the margins with grumpiness and sourness and angst and WANT and DESIRE. 

But they were fucking VULNERABLE too. And as I began to make friends - I had a sketch group from the Upright Citizens Brigade and we would hang out at Max Fish - and I had a job teaching kids writing and reading and became friends with my co-workers - and I got an internship at Mass Appeal magazine, and joined The Plague - our college humor magazine - as I began to form a more confident persona, I would look back at those vulnerable journal entries and WRETCH from embarrassment. 

And when I graduated from college, I hid those journals for a while - until one day, actually in 2010, a year after getting my “break” in the industry and in the process of moving from Long Island (where my mother had been living - long story, she moved from Milwaukee) to Brooklyn (to the place I still live in to this day in BK), I took the notebooks and, instead of packing them, I tore the pages of the diary entries to shreds and threw them in the trash. 

Because I was mortified that I was ever that lonely and desperate and in pain. Because it had been so long since I had felt that way. 

But now, 13 years later, I’m really, really mad at myself for having done that. Pain is a real feeling. We don’t find ourselves confronting “real” things that often. And I wish I could look back and thumb the spines of those notebooks and glaze my finger over my handwriting - which hasn’t changed in decades - and try to connect with that little boy who was in pain - and tell him it’s going to be okay. Because it was going to be okay - it was okay. He ended up being just fine. 

And I disrespected him by throwing away his journal entries. The ones he cared about. 

Which I forgive myself for doing, but man, do I regret having done that. We don’t so often leave ourselves a trail of bread crumbs back to our past experiences. So when we do - when we write in journals or keep up a blog or whatever - we’ve gotta cherish those things and let them be. 

This “blog” doesn’t have to be anything other than a dumping ground for missives and dumb ideas - again, a place where I can quietly shape my public persona, which I so desperately need to craft and then use for the next chapter of my life. 

But I’m not going to disrespect the space. I promise myself that now. 

Anyways, I’m going to do some other writing now - this was honestly really nice. Hopefully I can keep it up - and perhaps it’ll be something you find useful or helpful or interesting. And if not, then I’m sorry. 

By the way, the artist whose livejournal I fell in love with was Mumbleboy. It looks like his early entries are gone, just like my old journals.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

1, 6, 15, and 88!

Oh yay, thanks! No one ever asks me these things, so I appreciate it! :-D

100 questions!

What’s your favorite way to pass time at home? 

Usually scroll on Tumblr or watch YouTube videos for hours on end 😅😅 Ahh, other than that I enjoy crafting when I have a project I'm interested in. In fact, I just finished making a Ralsei (from Deltarune) plush out of fluffy socks and felt! Here, I'll put a picture:

Click here if you want to follow the video I used too. Warning: Some of the templates that the OP provided weren't quite the right size, like the size of the felt for the hat and the dress. I was able to make it work, but it looks a bit clunky in the back and on the hat, ha. I'm still proud that I was able to make it, though. ^-^ I'm not much of a sewer usually. And I actually used fabric hot glue on the dress and scarf since I was NOT going to hand sew that much fabric 😅😅

6. Coffee or tea?

Hmmm, it depends. I used to HATE tea, but now I like herbal fruit teas, like orange or raspberry. I do like coffee, but caffeine makes me feel weird sometimes. Either it doesn't wake me up at all, or it makes me jittery and sick. Sometimes it works, though, which is the frustrating part, ha. It's like Russian roulette. Will this make me sleepier? Will this make me sick? Or will it actually work as intended??? Who knows!!! But, to answer the question... I like both, but only in specific circumstances. ^-^

15. When + wich band was your first concert? 

I had to stare at this question for a minute before I understood it 😂😂 Ah, but honestly, I do not know, since my parents took me to many concerts as a kid. The first one I kind of remember would probably have to be... a Brad Paisley concert from when I was, like, 6? Maybe? I know my parents took me to a Country music festival type thing when I was three or four since I have a picture of it, but I don't remember it. I've never really gone to a concert myself, I always go because my parents or brother want to go. I did see Weird Al multiple times, though! And my dad got us all VIP tickets once, since he's a HUGE Weird Al fan and I got a picture with him! Here, I'll attach it:

88. How do you celebrate Easter (if you do)?

Well, I am Jewish, but as a kid my dad (who is Catholic) would have the "Easter Bunny" make up an Easter basket for my brother and I, and he would leave clues around our apartment for us to find the basket. One year, when we were technically homeless (it's a long story, but it wasn't a financial problem) the "Easter Bunny" did the basket hunt in the hotel we stayed in, with one of the clues sitting on the water fountain outside our hotel room. It was a unique experience. When I got older (around 9-10) I asked if we could go to an easter egg hunt at a local grocery store, so I would do that every year until I was about 14-ish and grew too old for it. Nowadays I just get an Easter basket with chocolate and things. Which I only get because I inadvertently guilt the "Easter Bunny" into getting me one 😂😂 For Passover, my family usually goes to the one Jewish Delicatessen in my city for lunch.

Thanks for the numbers! I like doing these, ha. ^-^

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg). 

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the:  🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose​ basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is!  Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell  who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy​, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya​ who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it 

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN 

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room. 

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one. 

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really. 

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you. 

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled. 

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints. 

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later. 

He’ll make sure of it. 

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance. 

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but. 

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action. 

One dick for life. Ha. 

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself. 

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words. 

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass. 

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides. 

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body. 

So fucking pure. 

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever. 

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch. 

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now. 

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride." 

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet. 

Pliant. 

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type. 

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg. 

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage. 

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear. 

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace. 

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him. 

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips. 

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later. 

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy. 

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go. 

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show. 

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name. 

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

 His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance? 

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick. 

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face. 

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac. 

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before. 

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage. 

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.” 

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary. 

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt. 

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone.  “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell. 

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest. 

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation. 

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him. 

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.”  His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this. 

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt. 

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs. 

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout. 

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

 Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too. 

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

 “I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around. 

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!” 

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in. 

And he loves it.��

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him. 

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done. 

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls. 

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from. 

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

[ysljoon]

Daddy’s Favorite Student|DILF!Kim Seokjin x Reader

This fanfic has mature content so please avoid if you’re not 18+.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 18 and Seokjin is about 45 years old), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please use protection people!), creampie, spanking, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving)

“Little girl you have to be fucking quiet if you want to continue doing this.”

You are in the current situation of fucking your project partner’s dad while your partner left to go get food for the both of you. You will never deny the fact that older men have always been much more attractive to you then boys your age. This rendezvous started when your teacher partnered you together with a boy that you weren’t even aware that he was in your class. His name was Kim Taehyung and you had to do your senior project with him to ensure that you would be walking across the stage with your diploma in the spring. 

Initially when you were planning out your project with Taehyung he suggested to do the project at his house since it was located right next to a plaza that had a craft store with extensive selections. You rolled your eyes at the suggestion because it definitely had underlying suggestions that you were not interested in. His suggestion was something that you will be forever grateful for. On the first day of working on his project you drove to his house and knocked on the door. You were slightly annoyed since you had a heavy backpack that you were itching to take off since its heavy weight was due to all the craft supplies you thought would be useful. 

You knocked again with an even heavier fist to hopefully get a response and this time the door swung open. You were instantly faced with a gorgeous man that definitely was not Taehyung. His broad shoulders had your mouth watering and you were ready to jump this man’s bones. “Oh, you must be Y/N! Taehyung told me you were coming. Sorry for his awful manners, he's in his room right now and he seems to be deaf once he’s in there.” He moved his body to the side to allow you to come inside and you ignored anything he said about Taehyung. You just wanted to stare at his plush lips all day. “I’m his father,” He stuck out his hand for you to shake it and you were in awe with how big his hand was. You knew they were perfect to manhandle your smaller frame. “You can call me Seokjin or Mr. Kim. It doesn’t matter to me I won’t give you a hard time.” He gave you a warm smile and led you to the stairs and instructed you which door was Taehyung’s. You thanked him and wished that you could spend more time with him. You knocked on the door and saw Taehyung open up with disheveled fluffy hair and wearing a white shirt and sweatpants. Definitely a lot more casual than the vintage style he sports at school.

After brainstorming and getting a rough outline of the project Taehyung was generous enough to suggest getting lunch. He originally wanted you to accompany him while he drove to the fast food restaurant of your choice, but you came up with the excuse that you’ll continue to work on the project so there will be less to do after the lunch break. He looked like he was going to try again to convince you, but he just shrugged and went downstairs to get his keys. You spied through his bedroom window to make sure he was well down the street before you proceeded to make your advances towards Mr. Kim. Just the sound of his name gives you butterflies. 

You got up from the bed and slowly started to explore the upstairs part of the house and you heard busy fingers typing behind a door and you figured it was Mr. Kim doing some work from home. You tried to suppress a grin from your impulsive thought of him fucking you against his desk and making a mess all over his office. You timidly knocked on the door and held your breath while waiting for an answer. He cracked open the door and made it wider once he saw you. “Y/N is everything okay? Where’s Taehyung?” You slipped past him into his office and he closed his door behind him. “Taehyung went to go get lunch for the both of us and I was bored so I wanted to spend some time while I was waiting!” You gave him a wide smile and he nodded at your response. “Well, I don’t think I can entertain you much since I’m doing work, but you can keep me company till Taehyung gets back.” He pulled out a chair for you to sit and you watched him type away on his desktop computer. After a couple of minutes you knew you had to speed up your plan especially if you wanted to get what you wanted before Taehyung came back. 

“Mr. Kim, do you have a wife?” He suddenly spluttered at the sudden question and looked at you from above his monitor. “U-uh no she’s out of the picture.” He tried to keep the answer as vague as possible, but that was all you needed to hear. You got up and made your way around the table and started to rub his back in an attempt to do a faux massage. You started to press your breasts against his back to really get him riled up and this did the trick. “Y/N what are you trying to do right now? I am a father not a teenage boy that does hookups. If that’s what you’re looking for then please go look somewhere else.” His words did not match his actions though and this made you smirk while you continued to rub his broad shoulders. “Mr. Kim, if you really don’t want this you can kick me out right now, but I don’t think that’s what you want.” You purred into his ear and in result he got up and wrapped his hand around your neck. His mood took a 180 and you were getting wetter and wetter by the second.

“Y/N, you better be ready to take whatever the hell I give you since you want to whore yourself out to me. I will make you feel like a fucking whore since you want to be one so bad.” He flipped you and had your body pressed up against the wall. He pulled down your leggings and you felt him already pressing up against your ass. He tapped between your thighs to indicate for you to spread them and you did it with no fight. He started to rub your cunt agonizingly slow to tease you and he let out a low chuckle. “I barely even touched you and your pussy is already so wet and sloppy for me. Christ, you really are a slut. I wonder if Taehyung knows how much of a slut you are.” You shook your head and stuck out your ass to press further against him. 

He ripped your panties off and with no warning he slipped two fingers into you with no resistance considering how turned on you are right now. “You definitely are a whore for me, you can take two of my fingers with barely any prep. I wonder if you can take more?” You nodded and this was not the answer he wanted. He removed his fingers from inside you and gave a loud slap to your ass. “Use your fucking words. If you wanna fuck a grown man you’re gonna answer me and give me the respect a grown man deserves.” “Y-yes sir. I want more of your fingers please.” He fulfilled your request and put an additional finger in your pussy and this had you screaming out in please. If he kept this up you would be cumming in no time. You were already starting to clench and Seokjin was having none of it. “You’re gonna cum on my fucking cock and that’s final.” He took out your fingers and he left you as a whimpering mess against the wall.

“Get on your knees and do what useful whores do by sucking my cock.” You obeyed and waited with baited breath. Once he pulled down his pants your mouth instantly salivated. He was so much bigger than you could’ve ever imagined and it had your whole body tingling with excitement. You took it in your mouth and instantly you knew that you couldn’t get more than half of him down your throat. Seokjin was definitely enjoying the sight of you struggling to deepthroat his dick. “Aw, poor slut can’t even take daddy’s cock. Looks like someone should go back to fucking stupid little teenage boys.” This lit a fire under your ass and you were determined to take more of his cock now. You needed to prove yourself to him. You started to gag around him trying to take more of him and this was enough to bring him close to cumming. 

He yanked your hair to remove your mouth and he slapped your cheek indicating for you to stand up. He quickly admired your tear stained cheeks and the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. Your fantasies were coming true when Seokjin came behind you and took one of your arms to bend you across his desk. You spread your legs and felt the excitement inside you when you could feel him lining up against your pussy. In one swift motion he came close to bottoming out in your pussy and you let out a screaming moan that was out of pleasure and pain. “Little girl you have to be fucking quiet if you want to continue doing this.” You tried your best to try and quiet your moans, but he just felt so fucking good. Your pussy started to clench again and you knew the tightening in the pit of your stomach was about to pop. “Yeah, be the little fucking slut you are and cream all over daddy’s big fucking cock. You’re taking me so well baby.” His words of encouragement made you completely let go and you were arching your back from how strong your orgasm was. You knew Seokjin was also close because his thrusts were getting faster and sloppier. “Fuck your cunt feels so good wrapped around me. I bet you want me to cum in you. You wanna be filled with my fucking kids huh?” “Yes fuck please! I want your cum so bad!” This was all he needed to hear and he was dumping his cum deep inside of you and it felt so good. 

Once you put your clothes back on you heard the front door open. The timing couldn’t be anymore perfect. “Hey Y/N I’m back! Sorry it took so long. The traffic was crazy. I hope you’re hungry!” “I’m starving! Thanks again for the lunch, Tae.” You scampered out of the office and gave one last wink to Mr. Kim before you went to eat. 

Notes: I got really inspired to write a DILF fic after reading some of @taesinferno content (which is super good go check them out!). If you enjoyed what you read then please like and reblog. If you would like to support my work further you can give me a Kofi.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Since we have the sdra2 boys being a big brother to the ultimate plushie maker child reader, may I please request the dra boys being a big brother for the ultimate plushie maker child reader? Thank you.

Finally done! I thought this request was gone for sure sjgjdhg

.........

Mitsuhiro

“What did you make me, shortstuff?”

“Just um..this.” You shyly held up a plush soccer ball that you made for Mitch, a bit worried about what he would think. 

But he looked impressed as he took it from your hands, tossing it in the air and catching it, grinning. “I love it!" He laughed, before he looked down at you and ruffled your hair. "Yeah I might've gotten tons of gifts, but this is the best one!”

Relieved that he liked it, you smiled back at him. “I-I’m glad, big bro. Just..try not to kick it around too much.”

“Why would I do that? I’m treating this like a trophy!”

........

Haruhiko

“Oh my god dude this is the best thing EVER!!!!!!”

“Y-You really think so?”

“I know so!” Haruhiko had stars in his eyes as he gazed at the plush airplane you made for him. He hugged it to his chest, bouncing up and down as he chanted the phrase "I love it" over and over again.

You couldn't help but giggle over how enthusiastic he was over the gift. His reaction wasn’t the kind you were expecting, but you were glad he was happy.

Though it made you wonder who was the actual child here.

..........

Kinji

You weren't sure how Kinji would react to your handmade plushie, which was a simple blue, black, and white dove.

But as you handed it to him, the small smile that adorned his face made your worries go away. "This is a lovely gift, [y/n]. Thank you." He spoke, his thumb running over the soft texture. "I'll be sure to cherish it. But...what prompted you to make this?"

"O-Oh..um..nothing.." You smiled shyly, hands behind your back. "Just wanted to give my big bro a gift. For b-being so nice and caring."

The priest nodded, his smile only growing. He was used to receiving gifts from the children at the orphanage, but this is one he'll be sure to protect at all costs.

........

Tsurugi

"And if I catch any of you trying to steal from them again...you'll be sorry."

Tsurugi's trademark glare was enough to make the teens run away. Once they were out of sight, he huffed and turned back to you, kneeling down to make sure you weren't hurt. "It's alright. They learned their lesson and-"

He was surprised when you suddenly hugged him. "Th-Thank you big bro Rugi.." You whispered tearfully. "They were..j-jealous of my talent...that's why they tried stealing from me.."

The cop was unsure of how to react at first, but his arms slowly found their way around you. He noticed the police car plushie that fell out of your bag, though he elected to ignore it for now and held you close. "It won't ever happen again. I’ll protect you no matter what."

It would be a difficult promise to keep...but for you, he'll try.

.........

Yuki

"Wh-What? You're giving this..to me?" The lucky student was baffled as you presented the stuffed orange bear to him, smiling.

"Yeah..I-I'd like you to have it.." You insisted. “For being the..coolest big bro.”

He couldn't comprehend the idea of accepting something from an Ultimate--especially a child. But he knew it would be rude not to, so he took the bear and looked at it, seeing that the clothes mimicked his uniform, red tie included.

"Do you like it?"

"I do." Yuki smiled as well, hugging it to his chest. "Thank you."

........

Teruya

"C'mon!! I got just tha' materials ya need!"

"A-Ah!" Before you knew it, you were being dragged all throughout the Otori Mart while the Ultimate Merchant laughed as he ran with you.

Eventually he let go of your hand once you arrived in front of a bin, which he dug through. "So whatdya need? I got any color you can think of!" He starting pulling out felt material.

Once you caught your breath, you listed several colors that you wanted to use. And he piled the material into your hands, only stopping as you mentioned green, black, and red.

“..wait..ain't those my colors?" He looked at his clothes, then back down at you in question.

You just smiled. "I-I wanted to make a plushie for the best big brother. So I needed your colors."

For a second he stared at you, but it wasn't long before tears pricked his eyes. "Y-Ya wanted to make me somethin'..? Oh, I can't wait!" He grinned excitedly, almost jumping up and down. "Thank ya, thank ya, thank ya!!! Never had anyone make me anythin' before!!"

......

Kakeru

You knew Kakeru had dealt with a difficult case today, judging from how stressed he seemed when he returned home.

Fortunately you made him something while he was out to cheer him up. You had no idea what lawyers would like, so you crafted a fireball-shaped plushie inspired by the tank top he wore on his days off.

When you presented it to him once he was out of his “lawyer mode”, he was more tearful than you expected. But he grinned as he scooped you into his strong arms, hugging you and the fireball tightly.

"Thank you so much! I love it! B-But..you didn't have to go through the trouble of making this for me." He muttered.

"It..was no trouble for me, it's my talent after all." You reminded, hugging him in return.

You were glad you weren't intimidated by him anymore.

......

Yamato

"You know I'm always making stuff for people...but this is amazing!! I get something made by the Ultimate Plushie Maker!!"

"I-I'm glad you like it, big brother." You just smiled, happy to see Yamato hugging the robot plushie like an excited kid.

You figured the inventor could have a companion in the lab, since he sometimes got lonely working on projects for hours on end.

He was beaming as he set it on his desk proudly. "I promise I'll take good care of him! He shall be named...Yamato 2.0!!! Don't you agree?"

"A-Ah..haha...sure. That's a good name."

[demomonic-murmurs]

Hii!! Can i make a request? I really loved your shimizu & yachi threesome!! Can i ask for a tribbing/scissoring follow up for it?

Another Lesson [Kiyoko × Reader × Yachi]

Yes hello anon I love you please always ask me for more wlw content.

This is a continuation of this story I wrote for my Kinktober prompt list.

Pairing: Kiyoko × Reader, Yachi × Reader, Kiyoko × Yachi

Summary: Kiyoko and you teach Yachi a few more things about the beauty of gals being pals. She is an eager learner.

Tags: Threesome, F/F/F, Kiyoko and Reader are in a steady relationship and Yachi joins in, Heavy Make-Out Sessions, Fingering, Tribbing, Scissoring, Sex Toys, Spit, Squirting

Yachi was adorable really. When [Name] and Kiyoko had invited her for an arts and crafts night, she had been ecstatic. They almost felt bad for using it as an excuse to indulge her again.

Sex with Yachi had been pleasurable for the three of them and [Name] felt oddly excited whenever she thought about the petite blonde joining them again. There was something about the way she could show Kiyoko's flushed face off, eyes red from crying and sobbing, mouth agape, drove running down looking absolutely fucked. Their first time with Yachi had been fairly vanilla, easing her into the idea that yes, two women could be together as well, a concept Yachi had been aware of and fantasized alone in her dark dorm room, desperately humping against the pillow for friction.

But [Name] wanted more. She wanted to show Yachi more. As much as she wanted to know. As much as she wanted to indulge them. As much as they wanted to induldge her.

The evening started off in a decent manner. [Name] knew about Yachi's love for scrapbooks and suggested it as an activity they could partake in over at her and Kiyoko's shared apartment. Such an innocent activity really. Yachi was nervous regardless, as if she was already anticipating something, hoping for something. She had been over at their place before. Kiyoko had been one of her best friends since high school and [Name] was someone she felt at ease with. The source for her anxiety was more so the fact that the last time she had been over they had done... it.

"Relax", Kiyoko murmured and rested a hand on Yachi's shoulder in a comforting manner before sliding down on the floor next to her, putting the plate of tea down on the table cluttered with various colorful pieces of paper, scissors and glue.

Yachi shuddered at the contact and thanked her upperclassman. [Name] returned as well, carrying a stack of pretty looking pieces of leftover fabric. The blonde knee that the taller girl liked to sew in her free time but was delighted all the same that she wanted to share something important to her with Yachi as well.

Yachi's instructions were easy to follow. It was easy for [Name] to understand why Yachi had been in a university preparation class. She carefully constructed ideas that seemed plausible to the two lovers. The way the usually meek and shy girl spoke with so much vigor in her voice was beyond endearing to see for the two of them.

Eventually, they began to finish their projects up and Kiyoko excused herself to the bathroom. [Name] understood her girlfriends signal and rested a hand on Yachi's thigh. She tensed up and flushed, hands gripping on the sheet of paper she was trying to put away. The blonde let out a squeak when [Name] began to draw circles, fingers dragging across her clothed thigh. Yachi could feel a weak spike of arousal shooting through her.

"I didn't mean to startle you Hitoka", [Name] murmured, her movements halting, "If you don't want to-"

"Please", Yachi yelled, shutting her eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"...no please continue... I... want to..."

[Name] smiled. "Can I kiss you Hitoka?"

Yachi nodded feverishly. [Name] cupped the petite woman's cheek and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, first softly before gripping at her thigh again, making Yachi gasp and granting [Name] access to her mouth. With her tongue moving against her own, Yachi could only squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to get some relief against the wetness forming between her legs. She leaned back, only to hit something soft.

"Oh. You have started without me."

Kiyoko's calm voice brought Yachi back to reality. She broke the kiss and turned her face to meet her upperclassman's gaze and Yachi could feel her words die on her still tingling tongue.

Kiyoko's colour was purple. A dark shade of purple. Alluring and mysterious. The thight lace hugging her skin looked divine, intended. The stark contrast of purple against her pale skin accompanied by her luscious black hair and storm grey eyes made her look even more like a goddess than she usually did.

"She is gorgeous isn't she?", [Name] whispered, hand resting on Yachi's shoulder just like it had earlier today. "I designed it myself. But if you ask me I would've gone for a see through fabric around her breasts. And something more thong like for her panties."

Kiyoko flushed before whacking her girlfriend on the head.

"You are definitely a reflection of Aphrodite my love. Absolutely and utterly horny", she uttered, rolling her eyes.

Somehow, they always managed to calm her nerves. Even now, with Yachi's arousal making her panties stick uncomfortably against her pussy and Kiyoko sitting behind her in the most gorgeous pair of lingerie she had ever seen, she felt calm.

"I could make you a set as well", [Name] stated casually, "I'd just have to take your size."

[Name]'s hand wandered alongside her waist before coming to a halt at her chest, gently cupping her breasts. Yachi let out a squeak and tried to spin around again, back to facing [Name] but was stopped in her endeavor by Kiyoko's plush lips.

Kissing Kiyoko was different from kissing [Name]. [Name] was wild. Her kisses left you breathless, yearning for more. Kiyoko's were slow and sensual, soft and gentle in their nature. Yachi felt as if she had ascended. Being trapped between the two hottest women she had ever layed her eyes upon fulfilled every fantasy she had developed after accidentally stumbling upon a yuri manga one of her teammates had left in high school. (She was still sure it was either Tanaka or Nishinoya, which made her wonder what they'd say seeing Kiyoko, seeing her like this.)

"I think you'd great in stockings. Something flowey and soft. A soft pastel pink would definitely be your colour", [Name] continued, thumbs brushing against Yachi's nipples. She moaned, muffled by Kiyoko's skilled tongue dragging across hers.

"I think so too", Kiyoko murmured against her neck after breaking the kiss, leaving Yachi gasping for breath, "maybe strawberries could fit her as a theme. Maybe a strapless bra with a heart cut out right here."

Kiyoko rested her hand right between Yachi's breasts, which were still pleasured by [Name]'s hands.

"I really don't- ah- know if that would look so- so good on me", Yachi whimpered self-consciously, tears forming in her eyes, a mix of pleasure and hesitation swirling in her hazed brown orbs.

"It would", Kiyoko said simply, grasping Yachi's shirt and pulling it above her head.

"I absolutely would", [Name] agreed and lifted her up slightly so her girlfriend could pull off Yachi's pants.

There was a dark wet spot on Yachi's white panties that she felt embarassed for possessing. Still dazed, Yachi barely even noticed [Name] opening her baby blue bra and letting it slide down her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air of the apartment.

"Your boobs are so cute Hitoka", [Name] squealed excitedly, "I can't get enough of them. So adorable and perky. Plus you have pretty nipples."

Yachi yelped out in surprise and felt the heat rise back into her face. [Name] was forward and it left Yachi more than breathless.

"Don't mind her. She just has a preference for... breasts", Kiyoko sighed.

[Name] laughed and nodded before turning to Yachi. "She says that as if she doesn't like the attention. She does. I made her squirt once after I sucked on her nipple. Ms. prim and proper is more into it than she allows herself to be."

Yachi let out a short, breathless snort that she would have normally felt embarrassed about but they put her at ease. Any feeling of isolation or anxiety vanished as soon as she heard [Name]'s teasing voice or felt Kiyoko's comforting touch.

"So now that the lust has temporarily passed should we change the setting back into the bedroom? I dunno if uh- the prospect of getting cum over our cute scrapbooks is a thing to look forward to", [Name] stated, her hands still resting casually on Yachi's breasts.

It was cold without them shielding her boobs from the cool temperatur, Yachi thought as they shuffled from the living room into Kiyoko and [Name]'s bedroom that felt all too familiar in that setting. It was messier than last time, which meant that they had probably been a bit anxious having her over as well. The thought comforted her.

"Come here Hitoka", [Name] said, pulling her out of her thoughts. After undressing, she had seated herself on the bed, Kiyoko behind her, her head resting on her girlfriends shoulder and [Name] was patting on the space on her lap.

Yachi gulped, her hands wandering to her underwear, before remembering how wild [Name] had gotten the last time when Kiyoko was still wearing her panties and decided against it. Trying it out couldn't hurt. She knew it was fine if she told them to stop at any moment.

"Good. One leg on each side of my thigh. Lower yourself into a comfortable position okay?"

Yachi nodded, though could barely contain a whimper as she felt her clit brush against [Name]'s leg. Her hands had found their way around her neck where Kiyoko had intertwined their fingers in a comforting act while [Name]'s had wrapped around Yachi's waist. From her position she could only look into Kiyoko's eyes, lust buried under a thick layer of reassurance for the sake of her comfort and feeling of security.

"Rub yourself against me Yachi. Your tempo okay?", [Name] said, her fingers running comforting circles on Yachi's thin waist.

Yachi nodded and bit her lip as she pushed herself against the older woman's leg. She let out a moan, her legs shaking, unable to stop her from falling forward, her head resting against [Name]'s shoulder.

"Is too much", Yachi whimpered, "Wanna move but its too difficult."

Her pitiful gaze locked with Kiyoko's who held her hands a little tighter, offering her words of encouragement.

"That's fine baby", [Name] said, her voice vibrant next to her ear, "Do you want me to move you?"

Yachi nodded furiously and the grip on her waist loosened as [Name]'s hand wandered lower.

"If it's too much, tell us", Kiyoko said as she scooted to them so she was now sitting flush against her lover's back, her face just a few centimeters away from Yachi's.

[Name] rested her foot at one of the wooden planks of their bed so Yachi was now sitting a little elevated and let her lower body slide down her leg.

Yachi let out a loud moan, the fabric of her panties rubbing deliciously against her clit. The noises were eagerly swallowed by Kiyoko who had let go of one of Yachi's hands to cradle her face instead as she moved her tongue against the blonde's.

Her mind was hazy as [Name] moved her up her leg again, this time pushing her down more firmly. Her pussy was aching, enjoying the friction but not satisfied, throbbing for something, anything inside, filling her up.

"Fuck you're so wet Yachi", [Name] groaned as she flexed her thigh sending a jolt through Yachi's core. Her pace grew rougher, increasing in speed. Yachi broke the kiss with Kiyoko and moaned, resting her forehead on [Name]'s shoulder. Kiyoko didn't rest however, sneaking her arms under her girlfriends to gain access to Yachi's nipples, pinching and groping them eagerly.

Yachi let out a shrill squeak when she felt herself growing close to her release, the familiar heat building up in the pit of her stomach. [Name] wrapped one arm around her waist, making her arch her back and her chest closer to Kiyoko's greedy hands, and let her now free hand wander down to Yachi's clit. Each grind allowed [Name]'s fingers to brush over Yachi's clit and ever so slightly push in the velvety warmth of her walls.

Trying to chase that feeling of satisfaction, Yachi steadied herself on her shaky knees and lifted herself up before beginning to shakily fuck herself on [Name]'s fingers, pressing her chest against [Name]'s, trapping Kiyoko's hands accidentally between them.

[Name]'s pushing and pulling stilled as she felt in amazement the way Yachi was rolling her hips against her, trying to rub her clit against [Name]'s wrist. Her thin cotton white panties were ruined by this point as Yachi desperately tried to push more of [Name]'s fingers inside of ger only to be obstructed by the devilish material in their path.

[Name] cooed and obliged Yachi's wish and pulled her panties to the side so her fingers could reach her properly.

Yachi screamed when [Name]'s fingers sheated themselves fully inside of her, the stretch of her two digits being too much for the petite blonde. Regardless, Yachi's grip on [Name]'s shoulders tightened as she continued her brutal pace, Kiyoko's fingers pinching and rubbing her and [Name]'s nipples together nearly enough to send her over the edge.

"Kiyoko", Yachi sobbed, tears welling in her eyes. The dark haired beauty stopped trailing kissing on her girlfriends naked shoulder and locked eyes with the wrecked blonde, who dove in to kiss her desperately. The kiss was clumsy and startled Kiyoko but she returned Yachi's eagerness.

[Name]'s fingers brushing against Yachi's sweet spot was enough to drive her over the edge. Yachi let out a loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, her cum splattering against [Name]'s hand and thigh.

Her chest was heaving rapidly as [Name] lowered her on the bed and Kiyoko cleaned the wetness on [Name] and Yachi with a towel. As her hand softly brushed against Yachi's abused cunt by accident while cleaning her thigh it twitched weakly and Yachi let out a small whimper.

"You're a horrible influence on her my dearest. Look at her already craving more again... she must have used you as an example."

"I think you're the worse influence."

"Says the woman who got off on watching her friend cum. You're close aren't you? I can't blame you, I'm feeling quite turned on myself. Do you want to-?"

"Yes."

"You're so cute when you're eager."

The conversation barely made sense in Yachi's hazy mind. Only slowly was she regaining her ability to think. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs not having quite left her body just yet.

Kiyoko's loud moan distracted her from continuing the thought, if you could really call it that, and she haphazardly pulled herself and to choke at the sight before her.

Kiyoko's legs were spread and she was laying halfway on her stomach, her bra and panties discarded to the side, her heavy breasts gravitating towards the soft mattress underneath them. [Name] was kneeling between her legs, trapping one of her legs while resting the other one on your shoulder.

[Name] was rutting against her and Yachi could see something pink entering and leaving their pussies. She was mesmerized by the fast and brutal pace [Name] was setting, much more feral than she was with her. Her gaze fell on Kiyoko and she felt a jolt of arousal shooting through her core.

Her face was erotic, something straight out of a hentai or porno, or at least what Yachi thought it would look like. Her hair was dishevled, her tongue was sticking out drool dripping on the soft matress underneath them, her eyes were rolling back in her head, her breast pouncing against the sheets nipples gracing them ever so slightly and her moans were titillating.

"She is so hot like that isn't she?", [Name] grunted out and doubled her efforts after Kiyoko let out a particularly loud moan after the dildo had brushed against her sweet spot.

"What... what is that?", Yachi asked, breaking her gaze with [Name], her eyes flickering to the pink monstrosity. [Name] smirked.

"Its a double headed dildo", [Name] explained,"We enjoy them a lot because we can do this."

[Name] pushed her hips down, forcing more of the dildo to be swallowed by Kiyoko's puffy pussy. She angled her hips and let their clits brush against each other, inducing a loud moan between the both them.

"Kiss her Yachi. Show us what you've learned", [Name] breathed out, rocking her hip against Kiyoko's, enjoying the friction this position was giving them for their clits.

Yachi nodded and crawled forward. She was wet again, the juices running down her thighs.

"Kiyoko", Yachi murmured, hands cradling her upperclassman's soft cheeks. Her eyes were hazy, almost unable to focus on Yachi, an almost dumb smile gracing her lips.

"Open your mouth", Yachi commanded, shocking herself with the authority in her voice. The black haired beauty did as she asked, opening her mouth eagerly for whatever the blonde woman had in store for her.

Yachi steeled her nerves and pressed her lips to Kiyoko's, her tongue twisting around hers just like [Name] had kissed her earlier. Kiyoko did not attempt to fight back whatsoever, enjoying Yachi's assault on her mouth. Yachi bit down on Kiyoko's lip until she could taste the blood on her tongue.

"Just like that Yachi", [Name] praised, the fingers of her free hand finding her aroused cunt and pushing two fingers inside of her.

Yachi broke the kiss and let out a moan, surprised by the sudden intrusion, the grip on Kiyoko's face tightening as their share spit ran down Yachi's lips, dripping into Kiyoko's mouth who eagerly swallowed it.

"Cumming", [Name] grunted, followed by a incohesive moan from Kiyoko and a yelp by Yachi as she buried her fingers deeper into her pussy.

"Holy shit Yachi", [Name] panted out, Yachi's head snapping back, "She is squirting."

Holy shit indeed, Yachi thought as she watched Kiyoko's juices squirt out of her, drenching not only herself but [Name]'s stomach as well. Then she went slack, panting heavily, trying to regain her breath.

[Name] pulled the toy out of her pussy but left in Kiyoko's side of it.

"She doesn't like to be empty immediatly after", [Name] explained, grabbing a paper towel from her night stand to wipe away Kiyoko's cum from her stomach.

"What exactly was that?", Yachi asked, her eyes still glued at Kiyoko's cunt which was red from all the abuse it had experienced today, now matching her swollen lips.

"Squirting", [Name] said, "One of the hottest things a woman is capable of doing. Kiyoko's a squirter. She's just too sensitive after all."

Yachi wasn't exactly sure what that meant but just settled on googling it later. She didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You didn't get to finish yet did you?"

"Ah, no it's fine-"

"Do you want to try it too? We have a smaller one we could practice with first and then", [Name] mused, glancing at her close to being passed out girlfriend, "you could take my position and I will guide you along. Poor Kiyoko didn't have her fill yet but she needs a moment."

Yachi shuddered, remembering the last time. They had been awake almost the entire night trying to satsify Kiyoko.

"I'd love to try out", Yachi said, trying to hide her excitement as her pussy twitched, awaiting the attention.

Girls love was the best in the end.

[tigerseye46]

New prompts you say?? How's about #126,“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.” with Chimerashipping? Specifically with Red Son coming to realize he likes Mei and MK A LOT more than he planned to happen?

Ngl, I think this was one of my favorite fics to write. I’m going to apologize in advance to everyone again on how long this took.

126. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.”

  They were in Qi Xiaotian’s bed having a nice relaxing time in those rare moments they had when they weren’t fighting demons or getting into trouble. Xiaojiao was lying on her stomach, her legs on Red’s lap while she scrolled through her phone. Xiaotian leaned up against the demon, facing away from Red, he had his nose in his sketchbook. Red, on the other hand, was tinkering with an old device in his hands. If he wasn’t fixated on his current project, his hair would have flamed up in embarrassment after noticing the domesticity of the scene.

  He was puzzled when a single touch from them made his heart race, how protectiveness and jealousy sparked up in him when the two interacted with any person outside their normal group. He pondered that maybe it was just because they were his first real friends. He tinkered away at the machine and thought back to the past, how he used to fight the monkey king and almost won, his punishment as Guanyin’s disciple, going back to his mother, freeing his father then finally his second redemption.

   The demon was grateful towards the two and their friends for accepting him, originally he had become their friend under a scheme, he pretended his parents had kicked him out. No matter how he refused their help and pushed them away, they never gave up on him and that was what made him defect for real. Now, his life was better than it ever had been before, he owed them. Red Son smiled as Xiaotian leaned up further against him, he felt his heart race.

   He took a glance at MK, the boy’s tongue out in a concentration, the gentle strokes he makes with his pencil, the cautiousness as he erases a line, gently brushing away the eraser shavings. Red’s heart leapt, he loved seeing the other boy like that, carefully making sure every detail was beautiful, building up his skills despite the fact that he already perfected his craft.

   He gazed at Xiaojiao, focused on her phone and swinging her legs back and forth on his lap. He held back the content sigh threatening to escape from his lips, this was bliss, this was peace. He pondered how he managed to get lucky enough to have friends like them.

  Xiaojiao was rather beautiful and Xiaotian was gorgeous, they both were kind souls and wait what- what did he just think? Did he just think they were… okay so maybe his brain was fried from working on the invention, he put it aside, he really needed a break.

   He glanced at them again, they were cute- and ack! He wanted to smack himself so maybe their physical appearances were a bit nice but it’s not like it meant anything. He ignored the thump of his heartbeat. People can like each other’s physical appearance just fine without being necessarily attracted to each other but they were his friends, he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable.

   Yet the more he thought about it, the more he realized something. He enjoyed their kind nature, the way those two were practically in sync, how they cared for them, how they were both unique in their own way. His heart pounded and he was sure his face was pink.

   He questioned it a bit more, how a single touch sent sparks up his arm, his envy when they associated themselves with another person, how they accepted him even when he had attempted using them as pawns in the beginning. Red remembered when his mother, back when they were a happy family, would tell him stories about how she realized she was in love with father.

   The signs she told him had made him hold back a slight gasp. He was in love with Xiajiao and Xiaotian.

   Red’s palms began to sweat, they were his first real friends and now it just hit him that he was in love. Would this ruin their relationship?

   He didn’t want this to change anything between them. He could hide it. He would definitely hide it. They didn’t need to be bothered by unwanted feelings. Red felt Xiajiao swing her legs back and forth again and a gentle hum escaping from her lips.

   Red sighed, his mood dampened and he clutched his chest. He wished the thought had never occurred to him.

   Xiaojiao and Xiaotian noticed their friend’s contemplative gaze directed towards the plush sheets.

   “What’s wrong, Red?” Xiaojiao asked.

   He mumbled, “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” He hid his face away from them.

   The two exchanged glances. MK tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”

    “Just… I didn’t expect to find such good friends,” he excused. “You two are my first real friends.” He couldn’t just flat out admit he had feelings for them, that was crazy, he was still trying to sort it out in his head.

    “Awww, Red,” MK cooed. “Well you have us now!”

    “Yep,” Xiaojiao exclaimed. “You have us! We’re your friends now!”

    The demon used his fist to hide his nervous cough. “Thanks.”

    “So what do you want to do, bestie?”

    “Huh?”

    “Well as your friends, you should have an opportunity to pick what we’re going to do!”

    “I… I don’t know. We don’t exactly share the same interests.” He was sure he was practically a tomato at this point.

   “So? We still want to know more about you! What are you working on?”

   He raised an eyebrow. “You want to know what I’m working on?” His mouth hung open in disbelief. They had asked him about his projects a dozen times before and even now, he couldn’t believe it. Usually when he got into a project, he loved to explain every little function, every little detail but his parents had never cared about any of that. They just cared that it was finished.

   Xiaotian bobbed his head up and down rapidly. “Of course we do! It’s important to you so it’s important to us!”

   The girl agreed with a “Yea!”

   “Umm… well… okay. It’s not much.” He gestured to it. “Uhhh… Noodle Boy, Dragon Girl?” They looked at him expectedly. “Thank you. Thank you for being my friends.”

   They wrapped their arms around his neck. “You never have to thank us,” She said.

   “Yea! You’re awesome! We love you, Red!” That declaration made him turn to his attention back to the covers, his hair shot up a bit in flames.

   His pulse quickened. It wasn’t an ‘in love’ confession but it was something, he was happy with this. “I… I… I love you too,” he muttered, continuing to gaze at the sheets, completely missing the blush on his companions’ cheeks.

[quasieli]

top six: fictional characters that give you gender envy, flowers, little things that make you happy and d&d moments :D

Ooh lotsa questions!

Gender Envy:

1) Bow from She-Ra (2018). Something about buff athletic dude who wears crop tops and is soft as hell is very Gender to me.

2) Vax from Critical Role. Pretty boy, kinda goth rogue? That’s sexy as hell and I wish that was me. 

3) In a wildly different idea of gender envy, I’ve been thinking about it lately and @quantum-lesbian’s character in the Frostmaiden game I’m in with them, Ambrose, is Big Gender. Beautiful non-binary drow with a starry and kinda witchy aesthetic that dresses super grandly and ostentatiously no matter the occasion? Yes please.

4) Pete from The Unsleeping City, specifically season two. I adore season one Pete but season two Pete that works in a queer bookshop and has a teapot arcane focus, is artsy and is unapologetically a trans man who doesn’t give a shit about gender roles? Sign me the fuck up.  

5) Beau from Critical Role. Buff GNC lesbian mixed with academia, but like academia from the prospective of a grad student with ADHD trying to learn everything about their special interests? A+, I love her and I’m jealous. 

6) I’m gonna cheat a lil bit for this last one. I know the prompt is fictional characters, but Julia Lepetit and Jacob Andrews in their Hitman streams? Simultaneously both of them were Gender for me. Jacob esp felt like that for me, which is weird cause dresses can make me dysphoric, but I am also slightly envious of the Dude in a Dress type of gender presentation. 

Can you tell that I’m a confused trans masc enby

Gonna put it under the cut from here cause oof, there’s still a lot more.

Flowers:

1) Big slut for Sunflowers, always have been, always will be.

2) Fun fact, my dad’s family used to own a flower shop (in like the 70s, so I never got to see it :(), and one of their big things was hydrangeas. My dad has always loved them and now I love the snowballs too!  

3) A recent favorite, the Baker’s Globe Mallow. It’s a type of flower that only grows from the soils of forests that have been affected by wildfires. It’s a simple little flower but I love the idea of something beautiful rising from the ashes after tragedy. A little dramatic, but I’m queer, ofc I’m dramatic.

4) Roses are another important flower to my family (Rose was a family name for a couple generations), and ya know, they’re a classic. 

5) There’s this beautiful magnolia tree in front of my house that blooms with the most beautiful white and pink flowers every spring, and it’s one of my favorite things to see every year. 

6) There’s so many different types of Lillies and they’re all very pretty, but the Purple Stargazer is prob my favorite.

Little Things That Make Me Happy:

1) My cat, Maddie. She may be a cranky girl at times, but she is also very sweet and will always be my baby (even though she is 12). 

2) Not a little thing really, but my best friend. Just getting a sweet/silly text from her or the two of us chilling in a room, sitting in a comfortable silence because we just like being together, nothing better. 

3) Baking, esp if I’m doing it for others. I’m not much of a sweets person myself, a little treat every once in a while type person, but I love baking. It’s a very relaxing process for me, even when it can sometimes get stressful, but seeing people enjoying something I made, especially something that brought me great joy to make, is simply the best. 

4) In the same sorta vein, crafting and other art, but that’s a bit more personal. I love making things for others, but art, particularly drawing, is something I do more for me. It’s such a great feeling when you can get into a really good art mood and just sink yourself into a project. I love it.

5) My plush toys. Yes, I am a 23 year old, no I will not stop loving my plushies. I just got a few new friends, which I made a post about recently, and they such good cuddle buddies. However, there is one king amongst them all. I have this old, beat up christmas puppy beanie baby, on his tag named Jingle Pup, but I just call him Jingle. I had one version of him since I was like 6, but he currently lives on a shelf cause he is very beaten up and fragile, but his “brother”, who I got when I was 8, is still in kinda good shape and is currently chilling on my chest as I type this lol.

6) Again, not a little thing, but it’s important to mention; D&D. The game itself is such a joy, but truly the best part of it is the people. I love creating stories and memories with people through this weird little game. Truly one of my favorite things to do.

D&D Moments:

These are all gonna be personal moments, rather than anything from actual play shows/podcasts. RC is Reforged Campaign, where I play Saube, and FM is Frostmaiden, where I play Sparks.

1) RC - Meeting Mahety, Saube’s girlfriend. We met her way back in session 12 and we are now up to like session 73. Saube saw her and was immediately big heart eyes at her but also felt a bit awkward and shy. So, being a game a dice, I decided to roll. 10 or higher, Saube would talk to her, 9 or lower, she’d stay put. I rolled a 17, 17 is now a lucky number for me. I love Mahety and I’d die for her. 

2) FM - This was an insane fight that should not have been so crazy, but in a fairly early session, my group went up against an angry druid and her awakened animals. So much batshit stuff happened in that fight, and we unfortunately lost our bread loving bard (RIP Agneyis), but one of my favorite combat turns happened in this fight. Our artificer, Omaren, has a robe of useful items and one of the patches on it creates a large pit. Thinking quickly, Omaren tore off the patch, slid it under one of the dire wolves we were fighting and created a looney tunes style pit under it, allowing us to take it out easily via pot shots. Such a clutch move and such a funny visual, especially because the dire wolf kept failing the checks to get out of the pit.  

3) RC - Saube’s Zebrith (I will never remember how this actually spelled RIP). So, for context, Saube ended up with a death curse (long story) that mechanically meant they had disadvantage on any death saving throws. Scary as hell, need to get that fixed! So, Saube and their party had to be smuggled into another country to talk with some religious leaders of a goddess known as The First, the goddess of death. They were told that Saube would have to go through the aforementioned ritual, which included her soul leaving her body for a short period of time. During this ritual, her friends had to call back to her, to say things that would bring her back to her body and I still cry thinking about that game. That ritual was not only important for Saube bodily, but spiritually as well. After that ritual, Saube officially became a cleric of The First! 

4) A real sappy one, RC - Saube meeting all of her friends. Anyone who follows along with the rantings on my blog probably knows how important this game is to me. I met this random group of strangers on tumblr and formed a D&D party with them and now, a year and a half later, I honestly think it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I know that sounds silly and dramatic but not only has this game brought me so much joy and comfort, but I also gained a group of really amazing friends who have been nothing but amazing since day one. As much as Saube knows she can depend on SICL, I know I can depend on my group of weirdos lol. We both love our friends very much and even though we’ve all been through some crazy shit, we wouldn’t change it for the world.    

5) RC - Just playing Saube in general. I really didn’t intend for it to be this way, but Saube is very much a reflection of myself. She is the first long term character I have ever played and so much of me is in her. I try not to treat D&D like therapy, because that’s unfair to my DM and fellow party members, but playing Saube has allowed me to work through some of my own problems, especially social anxiety, in a lot safer of an environment. It isn’t so much that I’m asking this game to help me fix my life, but playing out these scenarios that, in the real world, would make me anxious or make me freak out, I can stop, take a moment to breathe and work out these issues in a way that makes sense to me. Playing her has led me to understanding myself a bit better, as well, and that’s truly such a wonderfully unexpected gift from this whole experience. 

6) Lastly, a silly one: RC - Getting a crit 6. The last session of this game got real interesting. Saube’s party ended up in the ethereal plane and magic got real fucky there. So, any time any of us tried to cast a spell, we’d roll a d20, not look at the result, and then try to guess what number rolled. The closer to the number, the better the result. A few times, a few people managed to get within like 3 or 4 of their roll, but oh the power I felt when I rolled a 6 (on Saube’s die!) and guessed it correctly! So, not only did the spell (Bless) work, but it worked super well. So instead of getting +1d4 to attack rolls and saving throws, Saube and two other party members got +2d4 to attacks, saving throws and skill checks. So powerful I broke the rules of D&D lmao. 

[sagesparrow394]

One Night of Normalcy

This is my @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift for @anyarally! I wish you a happy New Year, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Ship(s): Analogical, background Moceit

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, and Virgil is spending the evening around his boyfriend’s house, and meeting Logan’s parents for the first time. All he hopes for is one night of normalcy, and to stay out of yet another of his parents’ fights.

Warnings: This fic contains domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. There is a gay character who is heavily implied to have been forced into a straight relationship.

----------

Virgil took a deep breath, adjusting his flannel shirt in the mirror. Today was the day: Christmas Eve, and he was meeting his boyfriend’s parents.

Virgil knew there was no reason for him to be nervous. When planning for the day, Logan had frequently reassured Virgil that his parents were kind and warm-hearted people, and they truly were according to Remus and Roman. The two twins had worked with Logan on a science project once and, having gone around Logan’s to complete it, knew Logan’s dads well.

Virgil went to his dresser, checking his reflection in the mirror, before reaching for his make up. After putting on foundation, he reached for his black eyeshadow, only to pause. Would black make him seem too angsty and edgy? He didn’t want Logan’s dads to think he was some evil bad boy - what if they thought Logan could do better and convinced him to break up with him? Maybe he should go for his purple eyeshadow… But what if they thought the bright glitter was too much? Maybe he should just not wear anything. But his face looked so bare without it!

He groaned, holding his head in his hands, before reaching out. If he grabbed the black eyeshadow, he'd use black, if he grabbed the purple eyeshadow, he’d use purple, and if he missed both, he wouldn’t wear any.

He felt something in his hand and opened his eyes. Purple it was.

When he finished applying it, he pulled on his hoodie, before heading to the door of his room. He gently pressed his ear to the door.

Things were quiet. Goo-

SLAM!

Never mind. He stood corrected. He stayed listening, trying to work out where in the house his parents were going as he heard their voices yelling.

“I can’t believe you!”

“It was nothing-”

“Nothing?! NOTHING?! Thomas, I told you one thing, one rule! And you fucking broke it!”

“Nico and I are just friends, we ran into each other in the food court, we were just talking. I don’t see what’s-”

“Just friends?! That’s not what it looked like! And by talking, I know you mean flirting, you fucking slut!”

Virgil winced as he heard the sound of a sharp slap. Maybe he shouldn’t leave. It would be safer to keep his door shut and not risk passing his parents. He’d text Logan, telling him plans were called off and apologising. Then, he’d curl up in bed and hope his dad was okay, and that his mom wouldn’t come and take his wrath out on him instead.

And that’s when there was a vibration in his pocket from his phone.

Logan: Dad wants to know what your favourite cookies are - I’m assuming he’s planning on baking some. I’m warning you in advance, he is very excited about tonight

And then another message came through.

Logan: Though I must admit, I am too. 💙

Virgil couldn’t help but smile a little. Okay, he’d risk it. He’d have to be quiet, but he’d sneak out and would make sure he got to Logan’s right on time.

He responded to the message and then pocketed his phone, before slowly pushing his door open. He tiptoed down the hall and then down the stairs, making sure to avoid all of the squeaky floorboards and steps. Then he tiptoed towards the front door. As he went, he passed the kitchen and couldn’t help but peek through the doorway. His mom was still screaming as his dad, who was nursing a red bruise on his face. He held his breath, quietly tiptoeing past, and heading to the front door. He opened it as quietly as possible, stepping outside, before closing it equally silently. He paused for a moment, and then quickly hurried off.

-

Knock knock!

Logan looked up from his book at the noise, before hurriedly placing his bookmark in and putting the book on his bedside table. He got up from his bed, before running downstairs, where he caught his dad just about to open the door. “Dad, wait!”

Patton turned around. “What is it, kiddo?”

“I… It’s just… I don’t want you to come on too strongly. No offence, Dad, but you are… a lot. And I don’t want Virgil to feel overwhelmed straight away. So, maybe just head back to the kitchen for now, and I’ll bring Virgil in to meet you and Pa, okay?”

“Okay, okay, kiddo. But don’t leave me waiting too long,” Patton said as he began heading back to the kitchen. “You know how excited I’ve been to meet him!”

“I know, Dad.” Logan nodded. He turned back to the door when Patton was gone, opening it. “Hey, Verge.”

“Hi, Lo… I’m not too late, am I?”

Logan chuckled. “You’re early, actually.” He stood up on his tiptoes, pecking his lips to Virgil’s. “Come on, you can dump your stuff in my room, and then I’ll introduce you to my dads.” He took Virgil’s arm and gently pulled him along, heading upstairs.

When they stepped into Logan’s room, Virgil found it to be almost exactly how he’d imagined Logan’s room to be. There were glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, arranged to form constellations. He had a bookshelf against one wall that was crammed with books - too many to fit properly on there. He had a desk, his laptop resting on it along with a bunch of papers strewn around and quite a few empty jam jars. A telescope was set up by his window. The sheets of his bed had a pattern of planets and stars.

Logan sat down on his bed. “You can put your bag down anywhere. By the way, if you want to wait a bit to meet my parents, I don’t mind. You can take as long as you need.”

Virgil smiled, dropping his backpack on the floor after getting something out. “Thanks. I think I wanna just spend some time with you for a bit.” He sat down beside Logan, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy before pulling him onto his lap. “Hey, Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.” Virgil handed a present he had gotten out of his bag to Logan.

Logan smiled, before reaching over to his bedside. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a wrapped gift as well. “Merry Christmas to you too.” He handed it to Virgil. “You go first.”

Virgil pulled open the wrapping, chuckling as he saw what was inside. “Oh my gosh, I love it…” It was a plush spider with cute little fangs, and purple patches that matched his hoodie all over it.

“I made it myself. Well, with some help from Roman and Remus as well,” Logan explained. “They’re much better at arts and crafts than I am. Though Remus did almost stab himself in the finger with the sewing machine…”

Virgil pecked a kiss to his cheek. “It’s perfect. Thanks, L. Now go on, open yours. I’m sorry if it isn’t as cool as what you got me…”

Logan rolled his eyes, tearing the paper. “Virgil, I’m sure, whatever it is, it’ll be perfect.” He pulled the last of the paper away, eyes lighting up as he held up a soft blue turtleneck sweater. “I love it! Thank you so much, Verge.” He pulled the sweater on. “How does it look?”

“Perfect.” Virgil hugged Logan close, smiling. “So soft… I love how you act so stoic and smart in front of everyone, but you turn into a cute little soft teddy bear when it’s just the two of us.”

Logan’s face burned a little. “Oh, hush…”

Virgil pressed a small kiss to his neck. “Love you.”

“... I love you too.”

They stayed there together, cuddled close. Virgil’s hand slipped under Logan’s sweater at one point, tracing the stretch marks on the other’s stomach, and Logan nuzzled gently into him in response. Unfortunately, however, the moment was ruined by Virgil’s phone blaring his ringtone - I’m Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance. Virgil pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What is it?” Logan asked.

“My dad…” Virgil frowned at his phone. He didn’t want to get involved if his parents were still arguing… His mom might be even angrier if she’d found out he’d sneakily left. He declined the call. “It’s probably nothing.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You just hung up? My dad would freak out if I declined a call from him. He’d get scared I’d been kidnapped or something.”

Virgil shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, I don’t want our time together interrupted.”

Logan flushed. “Sap.”

“You love it…” Virgil grinned, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek lightly, causing Logan to gently shove his arm.

“Me being chubby does not entitle you to be able to do that kind of stuff.”

“Hm… I think you’ll find that’s exactly what it means.”

Before Logan could react, Virgil’s hands slipped back under his shirt, pinching his love handles. Logan let out a small squeal, erupting into giggles. “Virgil!! Stop!”

Virgil grinned. “Ticklish, huh?” He continued tickling Logan’s sides, the other quickly going red in the face as he collapsed back on his bed.

“Virgil! Stop!”

“But your giggle’s so cute… I rarely get to hear it. Let me have this? Please?”

Logan frowned. “‘M not cute…”

“Sure you’re not.” Virgil leaned over and pecked his lips. “Definitely not the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as his face burned even redder. “Is your goal for today just to fluster me as much as you can?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t until you said that. Now, maybe it is.” He ran a hand through Logan’s hair.

“You have to be careful, Virge. If you make me look all flustered and unruly, my dads will get the wrong idea when we go down and meet them.”

“... Good point.”

Logan chuckled as Virgil leant back, and he sat up. “So, do you want to go down and see them now? My dad will probably combust if I have to keep him waiting much longer.”

“... Sure.” Virgil paused. “You won’t leave me alone with them at any point, right? Nothing against your dads, but I just-”

“It’s okay, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Good…”

Virgil stood up, before offering Logan his hands, pulling him to his feet. The two left the room, starting to head to the kitchen.

“By the way, you know how your dad asked what cookies are my favourite?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t trust me when I told him chocolate chip, and insisted I ask you to be sure and show him your response.”

“Well, you might be happy he didn’t trust you.” Virgil smiled. “I lied and said my favourite was Crofters cookies, since I know you love them. Surprise.”

Logan smiled back. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

The two arrived at the kitchen. Logan took Virgil’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly as he led him inside.

And there Logan’s parents were. One of them was standing at the kitchen counter, humming to himself happily as he made the cookies. He had ginger hair, freckles across his face, and was wearing a light blue polo shirt, khakis, round glasses, and had a grey cardigan tied over his shoulders. Sitting at the table, Logan’s other father was drinking a cup of tea while reading a book about Immanuel Kant and his work in philosophy. He was wearing a yellow button-up t-shirt and black pants.

“Dad, Pa? This is Virgil. Virgil, meet my Dad, Patton, and my Pa, Janus.”

“Hi…” Virgil awkwardly waved. 

Janus gave him a gentle smile, nodding in welcome. “Hello, Virgil. I like the eyeshadow.”

Meanwhile, Patton eagerly turned to face Virgil. “Hey, kiddo! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Lo’s told us so much about you!”

“He has…?” Oh god, what kind of things has he said? What if Logan made him out to be really bad? What if he was about to be kicked out or, even worse, hurt-

No, Virgil, calm down. This is Logan, your boyfriend who loves you. He wouldn’t make you look bad. Not to mention, Patton looks excited to meet you, so it’s unlikely Logan has said anything that would make them hate you.

“Yep! He’s always talking about fun things you’ve done together, and things he loves about you. It’s so nice for him to have someone - he’s been a lot less closed off since you two started dating.”

“Dad…” Logan muttered, face burning red.

“Oh, it’s okay, you know I’m just teasing you. Anyway, you two came down just in time! The cookies are about to go in the oven and I was thinking, while they cook, we could play some board games. Just some nice family Christmas Eve fun!”

“Family?” Virgil could help but repeat that in disbelief.

“Yeah, kiddo. You’re part of the family now. So, any games you like in particular? We have Clue, Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, Sorry, The Chameleon, Spyfall… and quite a few others! We always get at least one new one each Christmas, so we’ve gathered quite the collection.”

“I’ll show Virgil the shelf of games and we’ll pick one out together.” Logan took Virgil’s hand, before leading him from the room. He led him into the living room and to a bookshelf in there. He opened cupboards at the bottom, revealing board games stacked upon the shelves inside. “Take your pick. Personally, my favourites are Clue and any trivia games.”

“I, um… I don’t really know board games too well.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

Virgil shook his head. “My family aren’t exactly the, uh, sit and play and have family time kinda people… I only really know the games that the YouTubers I watch play. But I have a feeling your dads aren’t really the types to play Cards Against Humanity.”

Logan chuckled a little. “No, they are not. Well, maybe Pa would, but Dad, definitely not. But are there any games here you recognise from YouTube that you would like to play?”

“Um, I’ve seen people play Clue, the Chameleon and Spyfall, and they looked cool.”

Logan nodded, picking up the three games. As he did, Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, you really, like, see me as part of the family? I mean, your parents barely know me…”

“Of course.” Logan stood up straight, the games in his arms. He paused. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”

“No! No, the opposite actually… It’s nice.”

Logan smiled. He gently pressed a kiss to Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s head back to the kitchen. Then we can set up the games, and I can wipe the floor with you all and win them all.”

Virgil smirked. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that, L. I’ve watched enough videos to know the strategies. You’re going down!”

“We’ll see about that.” Logan grinned, heading back to the kitchen. Virgil was about to follow when his phone rang yet again. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning at his mom’s name. “Sorry, Mom, I’m having a fun night. I’m not getting into a fight with you.” He declined the call, before putting his phone on silent. Then, he headed to the kitchen.

-

Playing board games with Logan, Janus and Patton was so much fun! Virgil had honestly never felt so comfortable around a group of people.

They played the Chameleon first. Janus had little to no competition, winning every single time he was the Chameleon, no one suspecting him at all.

“How are you so good at this?” Virgil had asked.

“I’m a lawyer,” was Janus’ only response.

Then it was Clue. Logan had been the winner of this one. He had gone full Sherlock mode, using deductive reasoning to slowly whittle down the options until he had the murder, the weapon and the place. All three games of Clue they played, he had won.

“You’re so good at this,” Virgil had sighed, staring at him admiringly.

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Logan had replied, before pecking a kiss to his cheek.

Then, finally, they played Spyfall. Somehow, he didn’t know how, Virgil was the winner of this game. He expected to be a terrible spy due to his very clear nervous fidgeting. However, he was able to blend in pretty well - mostly due to the fact he was equally fidgety when he wasn’t the spy, fearing that his answers weren’t as convincing as they should be. Therefore, no one could tell the difference in his body language between games.

The whole evening had just been so fun. Virgil didn’t want it to end. He got to spend time with the adorable and smart love of his life, and experience what it was like to have parents who actually loved each other through Janus and Patton. The two of them had such a pure, loving relationship with the quick hugs and kisses they shared as they passed each other.

As they’d been playing, the cookies were baked and then left to cool. Once the games were done, Patton placed the cookies on a plate and put them on the table.

“Dig in, kiddos!”

Logan didn’t hesitate to take one, and Virgil did the same just after. He took a bite and his eyes widened. “Whoa, these are really good.”

“Aw, thanks, kiddo! My very own recipe. Logan asked me to try making cookies with Crofters, and he was my taste tester as I tried different recipes.”

Virgil chuckled. “I’m not surprised with his sweet tooth.” He smiled down at Logan, who flushed a little.

And then Virgil felt his phone vibrate in his pocket yet again. It had done so a couple of times while they were playing, but now Virgil was getting sick of it. Why were his parents so desperate to drag him, their teenage son, into their bullshit?! What was he supposed to do about it?!

He pulled his phone from his pocket, going to turn it off. Only to pause. It wasn’t his dad’s number, or his mom’s. It was an unknown number. Usually, he declined unknown numbers. Talking to people he knew on the phone was scary enough. Strangers? No way in hell. But… something about this felt different. Weird.

He gave Logan, Patton and Janus a look that said “excuse me for a moment”, before standing up. He pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s head, before heading out to the hallway.

Once he was gone, Logan turned to his parents. “So… what do you think?”

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so happy for you!” Patton smiled. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

Janus nodded. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter what us two think of him. The two of you seem very happy, and you clearly love each other very much. And that’s all that matters.”

Logan smiled. He got to his feet, walking around the table, before hugging both Patton and Janus close. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us, Lo.” Janus reassured as the two fathers hugged their son in return.

As they were hugging, Virgil came back in. He was as pale as a sheet.

“Verge?” Logan pulled away from his fathers, frowning. He went up to his boyfriend, who was trembling in the doorway. “Are you alright?”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat, looking between the three faces staring at him, concerned. 

“My dad’s in the hospital and my mom’s been arrested.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

The Devil’s Daughter Ch. 2

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: The Winter Soldier X Reader (Bucky X Reader)

Summary: Born and bred to be a monster worthy to lead Hydra into a new age you must decide if you will become the beast they always intended or perhaps something greater… Someone worthy even, of love.

Warnings: Trauma. This one is lighter but I still advise to tread with caution when it comes to this series. 

A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU! I’ve been so wrapped up with work and another project that I haven’t had really any time to breathe. BUT I finally took like a half step back and remembered that fic is actually a form of self care for me. I LOVE writing these stories and needed to make time for this and, of course, to give those of you who are invested something to sink your teeth into. 

This is a shorter chapter but will answer that lingering question from the last chapter and, I hope, make up for the wait just a bit. 

Love you sweet pumpkins! 

TAGS ARE OPEN

If I missed your tag please remind me. 

You hadn’t expected sleep to come easily. It rarely did even before this seemingly endless day, and yet the moment you settled into the plush bed you fell into blissful unconsciousness. 

A few hours before sunrise, your eyes pop open. It certainly wasn’t the longest night’s sleep but you felt more than rested. Another side effect of the serum you suspected, and honestly, not a bad one. 

You had work to do. 

Tentatively you step from your room, both cautious of any potential threats and not wanting to disturb the presumably sleeping Soldier, wherever he may be. Thankfully, you found neither assailant nor your new muscle stalking around the space. 

Given your first goal of the day you were honestly more grateful to not see the Soldier awake than you were to not face an attack.

On the small dining table, the boxes of files on The Soldier sat just where you’d left them the night before. You lay your hand on top of one, almost reverently. 

There was no doubt that what these boxes contained was unpleasant if not horrific. Part of you almost didn’t want to crack into them, not wanting to take this journey now. 

With a deep breath, you shake your head, dismissing your hesitation. You’d made a commitment, albeit only to yourself, that you would give him his name back. And if his freedom could be wrenched from these files… Well, you’d do that too.

By the time the sun finally lit the windows you felt ill. No one could ever accuse you of having a weak constitution when it came to violence but still… some levels of depravity, especially sanctioned depravity, were more than even you could bear. 

The story told of The Soldier unfolded in the files on the floor around you. It was a lesson in just how deep the cruelty of man could go. 

Beyond the more gut-wrenching details, you’d gained a surface understanding of how he ticked. The triggers and tools available to you, none of which you intended to use, as well as his limitations. 

Part of his appeal was that he could be rendered a blank slate, a human weapon at the full control of whoever had a firm enough grasp on his leash. However, wiping him and bringing him fully back to square one had its risks. 

The insidious technique always carried the chance of simply leveling him to a state of drooling uselessness at best and death at worst. Because of this, they only wiped him entirely with the use of the chair when absolutely necessary. In fact, his last full wipe had been almost four years ago—which likely explained his remembering your encounter from several years prior. 

From what you gathered so far, this was one of the longer stints Hydra had gone without either icing or wiping him. The notes indicated that this was a great win. They thought they’d finally broken him. 

A smile filled your face knowing this was far from true. 

“Amusing read?” 

You had been so absorbed in your research that you didn’t hear his approach and embarrassingly jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“The content isn’t amusing. Their misguided ideas though…” 

His brows raise at this, “Ideas about what?” 

“That they have somehow finally broken you.” The moment the words leave your lips you regret them. His expression is unreadable, a combination of horror, disgust, and murderous rage that no language you knew had a word for. 

“Haven’t they.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Your presence here says they haven’t.” As did his attempt on your life last night and the fact that he didn’t kill you when you told him your plan. He doesn’t respond, just shoves his hands in his pockets, fixing his gaze out the window. 

“They think because they haven’t had to wipe you in so long that you’ve given in. It’s amusing because it’s the exact opposite, isn’t it? You figured out-”

“Even a dog learns not to bark when the shock collar goes off too many times.” His frigid tone makes you flinch. You think to respond but his cold glare freezes your jaw shut. “It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.”

“You’re wrong.” 

A muscle in his jaw ticks and you brace for his rebuttal. It doesn’t come. He simply turns and strides onto the terrace. 

To say that wasn’t what you expected would be an understatement. Last night he admitted to remembering you, admitted that what he did to Eric he did for the both of you. Clearly he had grabbed hold of a bit of autonomy, some level of self-awareness. Yet he didn’t see it as any kind of victory… 

Rather than push the matter, you sigh and begin repacking the boxes, tucking the nightmarish pieces of The Soldier’s puzzle away--all but one. 

The file was old, dating back to WWII, it’s edges frayed and flaking. Once more you flip open the cover. 

Held by a rusted paperclip is a black and white photo of a striking young man in military dress with a mischievous smile. 

Your eyes wander from the photo to the man on the terrace. Logically you knew they were the same person but at the same time, it seemed impossible. There was a spark in the person staring back at you in the photo, an effortless charm that couldn’t be dulled by the passage of time. For that energy to remain in a photograph and not in the man himself… 

Taking care to not damage the picture, you slide it from the paperclip. The document below held nothing but basic information, information he may want. The photo though--well it seemed almost cruel to present him with it when it was clear the man in it had died a long time ago. 

“Oh,” you breathe out as his reaction makes some kind of sense to you. 

Before you’d wondered if he may remember his name, it seemed marginally possible given that he’d known you. But after what you’d learned and how your words had clearly hurt you knew that wasn’t the case. He may have wrenched some control back out of sheer will over the past few years but it was, for him, a hollow victory.

With effort you swallow the lump in your throat, setting the file on top of the box before you head back to the room you’d slept in. 

Looking to take your mind off your bungled good deed you pick up the burner phone Mara had given you thinking to ring her to come on up until you note the early hour. The woman had been through hell, you could grant her a few more hours of what you hoped was restful sleep. 

Unable to think of anything else to do you get in the shower, turning the water to a scalding temperature. The sting on your skin grounding you in your body, making you feel present, as pain so often did. 

-

He wanted to… apologize? Maybe? Even though he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to or if he was just afraid of what may happen if he didn’t. 

She isn’t like that, he tries to tell himself. But whether that was the truth or just his own pathetic need for it to be true he didn’t know. 

If he was being honest, he could hardly tell up from down.

Sighing, he rubs his temples, forcing down a few deep breaths. 

She didn’t deserve that, a voice in his head whispers. It’s right. She may be the one who was wrong but he’d been needlessly cold. 

Squaring his shoulders he heads back inside only to be met by the sound of the shower. 

Relief floods him. He may have decided he would apologize but he hadn’t actually known what to say. Before he’s able to think more about it his eyes land on a single folder sitting conspicuously on top of the boxes. 

In the span of a heartbeat, everything around him falls away for just a moment. Then the alarm bells sound. 

He’s both too hot and too cold. His breath ragged, if not gasping.  In his chest, his heart threatens to break free. 

Still, he moves like a man possessed toward the unassuming document. 

All night he’d thought of coming out here and opening these boxes. Tearing through them with the hopes that he’d get back whatever they took from him or find out that there was nothing worth regaining. 

Really that’s what he wanted to learn. More than anything he wanted to open these boxes and know that he had always been this creature of Hydra. He wanted there to only be this. He needed the skinny boy with the busted lip and bright smile, the woman humming in a kitchen, and the little girl on ice skates who haunted his dreams to be figments crafted by his fractured mind. 

If the Soldier was all he ever was he could continue onward. Anything else… 

With shaking hands he lifts the file and opens it. 

It’s like being punched in the chest. 

Gasping he falls to his knees on the plush carpet. In his mind, he’s falling elsewhere. A man screams a word printed on the page. 

“Bucky!” 

It echoes through his very bones. Over and over. 

“Bucky, you promise I won’t fall?” The little girl wears a red scarf, her blue eyes big and trusting. 

“Bucky, take this to the table and tell your sisters to wash up.” The woman has the same blue eyes, her smile feels like home. 

“Bucky, I don’t need you to fight my battles.” The skinny boy says, wiping blood from his lip. 

“Bucky!”

“Bucky!”

It feels like the only sound in the world. 

“James!” 

That wasn’t right. 

“James!”

Another word. Another name. 

“James, you come back to us. You hear me boy?!” The man’s voice and face were severe but his brown eyes shone with tears. 

“James, you really bring out the best in him you know?” The woman’s red lips curl in a friendly smile. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake. James!” 

The sting of a slap brings reality crashing in sending all the nameless ghosts tumbling back into the fog always lingering at the edges of his mind. In their stead is a face with a name he knows. 

“Catherine.” 

She huffs out a breath, wet hair tumbling into her face smelling like flowers. When she looks back at him her eyes flood with regret. 

“I’m so sorry for hitting you. I… You didn’t seem to be breathing but you looked like you were screaming…”

“It’s o-”

“It isn’t ok.” Sighing, she sits cross-legged in front of him, her eyes lighting on the file still gripped in his hands. 

Only then do his eyes reluctantly find their way back to the page. 

Barnes, James “Bucky” Buchanan 

He fights down the bile rising in his throat. 

“James.” It comes out garbled like his tongue can’t quite make sense of the syllables. He doesn’t notice his trembling until her warm hand rests against his left forearm. 

“You called me, James.” 

“I did. Was that ok?” He meets her eyes once more, unsure of how to answer. “I won’t use it if-” Shaking his head he cuts her off glancing back at the page. 

“James is good.” Too many nameless faces whispered the other name. But James, there were fewer echoes there. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, James.”

Her voice is warm, soft. He almost thinks he’s imagining it. 

“Is it?”

“Without question.” She gives his arm a squeeze, and he knows this is real. 

“I assume you prefer coffee to tea?” Catherine asks as she rises to her feet, striding to the phone without explanation. 

“I-” He’s a bit baffled by the shift. 

“Well, you are American. So I assume you prefer coffee.” 

Did he? 

“I’ll get both and if you prefer coffee I win.” He can’t help but laugh a little. 

“What do you win?” 

“I’ll think of something.” She winks before picking up the receiver and James could almost swear his pulse quickened if only a little. 

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