#but yeah slowly learning to take better care of myself

[silverofthunder]

been doing some home work outs 'cause gyms are not for me and i've also tried to exercise more. i really need to take better care of myself.

so far it's looking good. and if the weight goes down eventually, it's just a bonus (it has gone down a little bit when compared to autumn, so yay!). 😊

.

(fyi, i have big thighs so the work outs might make them... well, you know 😁)

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[postersofleon]

Virgin Who Can't Drive

Leon is trying to teach you how to drive so you'll visit him in Raccoon City.

content: fluff and smut

- request

notes: afab fem!reader; fluffy couple who love each other; talking about porn; praise kink coming from both leon and reader; it's a short long. I wanted to write a fluffy sex scene because re2 leon is so lovely. um, i don't like the ending. y'know, it's like written perfectly in your mind and the next day it's just an ass writing of it. both reader and leon are virgins. it took forever because i hate myself so here you go

part two (here)

taglist: @argreion

Leon smiled brightly at you as he saw your cheeks puff up. "C'mon, reverse isn't that bad." He hoped his words be enough to make you feel better, but you looked so frustrated. "I, I panic controlling this machine." Once he heard those words come from your mouth, he sighed softly.

A typical nice day with his girlfriend who hated the idea of driving. "Once these cities are walkable, I'm going to finally hate less my life." You reverse the car gently, you focused on the car and on Leon. Leon nodded his head slowly, "Yeah, good, good..." Your cheeks began to burn a bit from his words.

"Sweetie, focus." Leon said kindly.

You wanted to desperately mock him, judge him for his cute words, but what else can you do this exact second.

"Okay." You said almost immediately. You kept your hands on the wheel as you slowly turned the wheel. Once you completely turned the car, you turned to see Leon with a happy smile, "Yeah, see, I told you you can do it." Leon kissed your cheek, and it was so easy to know that he did this to praise your little heart.

"Ready to drive?" Leon asked.

You nodded your head weakly as you began to drive. Your foot on the gas and the other foot just stayed floating above the brake. You weren't a complete idiot at the idea of driving, you knew how to make turns and stuff, but the fear of the other drivers made your stomach turn. If you weren't a reckless driver, another idiot will and, fuck. You glanced at Leon, "Leon, can we just skip the driving and," You leaned a bit close to the wheel, "I hate driving."

You were twenty years old practicing how to drive with your boyfriend. No matter how positive you tried to see the story, you felt like a loser.

Leon placed the car in park, "Honey," He gently cupped your face, "Take a deep breath in." He whispered softly. You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath in. His fingers gently squeezed your cheeks to help your nerves that kept spiking up. He leaned gently and kissed your lips, "I'm here to help." Leon muttered softly. Your teeth chewed on your lower lip, "Okay."

You drove around the streets; it wasn't hard because Leon made sure to keep another extra eye as they went around. "I can't park, Lee." You mumbled softly. Leon rubbed your thigh gently, "Yes, you can, baby." He kept his hand on your thigh as you twirled the wheel into position. "That's it... good." He nodded his head slowly. You blushed at every single word he said, your cheeks burned up.

"Be careful with the other car. Nice and easy." He nodded his head slowly until you finished. You parked the car and looked at Leon, "I hate driving." You mumbled softly. Leon caressed your cheeks, "I know, but when I go to Raccoon City, I need my princess to learn how to drive so she can visit me." You looked away; it felt so unfair that Leon accepted a job so far away. Leon. You looked at the wheel of the car, "So, how many days are you betting on me to get better?"

"A couple of weeks." He promised.

And Leon was leaving in a couple of months. You needed to get rid of your stupid fear.

-

Leon was finishing his small studies of law he took in community college. It wasn't required, and probably it was wasting time and money, but he didn't mind waiting around the campus for you. Leon hated to think about leaving you alone. He wanted to take you to Raccoon City, but you needed to finish your classes. Leon didn't want you to stop everything you are doing for him. However, he feels anxious of leaving you without actually losing his virginity with you.

Both virgins who were too scared to look at real life penis or a vagina.

He had seen those trashy porn movies in his home trying to prepare, but he knew things about you. He knew you wouldn't be super sexual and he was aware that maybe his boner won't appear like he planned.

Planning sex was hard work. Especially when everyone apparently lost it in high school. It was his fault for wanting to watch Plup Fiction and Casablanca with you. He was horny, but never enough to force you to do something he knew you would be uncomfortable with.

The closest thing Leon has done was sit between your thighs as he played video games on his Sega. Your legs on his shoulders, his hands every once in a while rubbing your legs. Okay, maybe he was a moron for not having sex yet. He saw you leave your class and he stood up straight. "Honey, I was planning we can watch The Wedding Singer." He stammered out like a wheezing toy. Your eyes narrowed, "Didn't we see that already?"

"Yes," He agreed, "But, who said we can't enjoy it again."

You exhale through your mouth, "Mm, okay, I guess." Your fingers scratched your cheek, "So, The Wedding Singer and we are done for the day?"

Leon laughed softly, "Not really." He knew his face looked dumb, "I was thinking that maybe we should buy condoms."

"No fucking way." You gasped softly. Leon nodded his head excitedly, "Yup, I, I want to do it with you unt-until I go to leave. I don't want an awkward sex moment with you and fail at it." He laughed softly to himself before looking back at you. "I don't want that to be last memory of me."

You looked away from Leon and let out a laugh, "So," You held gently his arm, "I'll rewatch and see The Wedding Singer and remember that's when we had sex." Leon nodded his head, "Yeah, it'll be fun, I guess."

-

You couldn't watch the movie properly now. You kept looking at Leon as Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore fell in love. You felt yourself smile with the thought of a romantic moment with Leon. You have known for so long. You knew all his little quirks and... You are learning how to drive thanks to him. You gently pushed his hair back, you saw his moles scattered around his neck and your heart clenched.

Lee. Leon. Your love.

Leon turned to see you.

Your eyes looked down at his lips, "I love you." You whispered softly. Leon smiled weakly, "I love you more."

When the movie ended, he held your hand tightly and pulled you so close that your hips crashed with his. "So, what's the first step of sex?" You teased Leon. You had your ideas of just grinding on him until he popped a boner, but it was just your needy self. You didn't mind how long it lasted to love Leon until he was hard.

Leon laughed softly, he didn't have an exact answer, but he got into his knees and pulled out a dozen roses. You wanted to pretend you weren't digging his romantic gesture. "Lee, stop it." You groaned weakly. "Nope," He has the cutest awkward smile in the world, "I have to express my love over and over."

You accepted the flowers in a shy manner. "I hate you." You mumbled softly.

Leon and you went to car and he drove you back to your rent home you shared with roommates. "A-are we really doing this?" You asked Leon weakly. Leon nodded his head, "I brought my cassettes for the occasion." You were scared for Leon's type of music for the moment. "What's in the cassette?" You grabbed a vase to put the flowers in.

"Honestly," He clenched the cassette, "A bit of everything I thought would be romantic." Meaning, you knew Lovesong by the Cure will be there. You held Leon's hand and led him to your room, Leon felt nervous already and it pained him.

You sat on the corner of the bed. Leon nodded his head, he needed to assure himself as he prepared the cassette. Leon turned to you and smiled, "Forgive me if I fail to satisfy you." He muttered softly. He got into his knees and placed himself the only place he knew where to start. You didn't know what to do and neither did Leon. He rubbed your thigh and his hands landed on your hip.

The music of the cassette began and it was a Queen song. A small piano began and you recognized it without an issue. Leon blushed at his song choices, "I, I know I'm not good with songs." His hand grabbed your hip tightly, "A song named Jealousy shouldn't be a tape where I want to love you, but I... I can't imagine a life without you."

Your eyes looked up at the tape player and back at Leon. "Lee, I don't know how to... start." You mumbled shyly. Leon nodded his head and stood up, "I don't either," He smiled, "They don't teach this in pornos." He leaned close to you, his legs slowly tangling with yours. Neither of you were sexual aroused. But it was nice. Leon's hand caressed your face and his thumb rubbed your lip.

Your hands slowly grabbed his hip. Leon closed his eyes for a second, he leaned back and took off his white shirt off.

You knew he was in good shape. You always saw him train and see how scrawny his body was until now. He had barely formed abs and soft pecs. You usually saw this body when you two went to lake to enjoy the fresh water in a summer day. He was beautiful. More of his mole decorated his skin, he even had one so close by his nipple. His head tilted a little, his cheeks were pink, and they won't seem to fade away.

The music was completely in the background noise now. Leon closed his eyes for a second, "Okay, okay..."He swallowed weakly. Your hands stayed a while on his hip until they slowly slid down into your stomach. "Your turn." He whispered softly. His hands gently traced your stomach; his fingertips were barely even touched you skin and a small whimper escaped from his lips.

You tilted your head away. It was simple touches, yet those small butterflies formed around your stomach and between your thighs. The grip on Leon's hands tightened on your hip, and they slowly went up and up and gently pulled off your shirt. Leon smiled weakly at his new view. Your breasts looked so soft. He leaned close, his breath was against your neck, "I love you."

Your kisses met his neck and shoulders. "I love you too." You mumbled back. Leon smiled, "I like this." His hands rubbed your hips, skin on skin action wasn't as normal for you two. His hands slowly went up and took off your bra. His pecs and your breasts rubbed against each other, your nipples perked up. Leon's hand gently held your breast and placed his mouth on it. He sucked on your nipples, tugged them gently between his teeth.

The music completely disappeared now. A tiny moan escaped your lips when he pulled away from your breast and went to the other nipple.

Leon had always loved your tits. Seeing them covered with a shirt was enough for Leon, but now he was between your tits.

Leon felt how his limp dick was getting swollen up. Tighten around his jeans, aching around and becoming... it was hard to explain. This wasn't like masturbation. He had you. You felt how his bulge pressed against your covered pussy. Leon could already imagine how... fuck... your tight walls clenching around his poor aching cock. Leon's tongue traveled up until it met your neck, licking up all those details of your skin.

His own blue eyes met yours, his hand caressed your face again and pulled you close. "I, I love you." He couldn't help but repeatedly tell you those words. He meant it.

But with his dick tightening his jeans and him loving you. The next step came. You and Leon temporarily separated from each other remove your jeans. Leon was embarrassed of his tighty white underwear. He kicked them off your bed and he looked at your thighs slowly showing. Leon blushed again. You turned around and faced him. "Sorry if my vagina looks ugly." Your hands cupped your already covered pussy, but once you said those words Leon said, "I don't care." He just hoped you won't be scared of his worm.

Leon looked up at the ceiling, "So, I'll whip it out, okay?"

You nodded your head.

Leon swallowed nervously, his hands played with the elastic band and tugged them off. Your eyes couldn't stop looking at Leon's penis, "It's pretty." You whispered. His cock twitched at the compliment, "I trimmed it." Leon muttered softly. His hands played with the pubes he had, "I'm decent size." He was proud of five inches, but you didn't care of his size. You saw how his cock looked thick and heavy, and your eyes widen at how big his balls were.

"Holy shit." You mumbled softly. Your eyes saw his again, "I'm guessing that's you man spread so much."

Leon blushed again, his hand held his cock and you noticed the pre cum sticking around. You liked how Leon's cock looked. Most of the other dicks you have seen with Leon for future practice were kind of ugly looking. "It's okay?" Leon asked you.

You nodded your head.

Now it was your turn. You slowly took them off, Leon groaned weakly when he saw his girlfriend's pussy. His thigh clenched, "Baby..." You looked away for a second until you looked back at him. "Is it...pretty?" Leon nodded his head, but there was no thoughts in his mind. He was so curious of being of you now. Just the tip would be nice...

Learning was taking forever. But nobody mind it. You leaned back and Leon was rubbing his shaft between you pussy lips. His eyes fluttered a bit as how good this felt, your small moans made him want to fuck you so badly. His cock's tip caressed your cunt, his cock then just spilled his cum. It was spilling out and covering your pussy with his seed. He groaned weakly, "S-sorry..." He forced his half hard cock deep in you.

Losing your virginity was so... strange.

His cock made space for himself inside your pussy. You were gasping with every single push. He just kept pushing and pushing your walls open until he was fully in. His cock was still cumming, "Sorry for cumming." Leon muttered softly. He wanted to keep himself nice and hard for you. His hands grabbed your hips and kept himself close. Your wall kept clenching and drying up his cock.

He moaned softly. Leon's head tilted back as he released all his cum deep in you, "S-sorry-" He whispered softly. He looked back down, he smiled weakly at you.

Leon caressed your cheeks gently, rubbing the palm of his hand to your cheeks.

-

"Leon," You felt your heart beat so fast, the phone was pressed against your cheek, "Leon, you have been in Raccoon City for three days, and, fuck, baby, you haven't answered yet." You drove around the empty streets. Leon never just decides not to call you or ignore your calls. He isn't that type of guy. You threw your phone on the passenger's seat and kept both hands on the wheel.

But the world stopped when you mountains of military men and women boarding up the street. You stopped the car and placed it in parking. "Um, e-excuse me?" You cleared your throat, "W-What happened?" A man looked at you for a second, "You lived in Raccoon City?"

You shook your head, "No?"

Your mouth felt dried. "W-what happened?" The military man didn't answer you. "My boyfriend is a cop. He was..." Your voice stammered, "He was suppose to be here."

The military man sighed softly, "Sorry, ma'am, I can't say anything."

"His name is Leon Scott Kennedy," You said fast, "Is he okay?"

[theodorenmyth]

Mattheo with a s/o who literally had a past of fighting a lot 😭. Reader has changed and is more peaceful, but Mattheo figured out that reader was literally worst than him and it makes him question reader about their past.

Shadows of the Past

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Summary ; You and Mattheo Riddle have grown close, but rumors about your violent past begin to surface, casting a shadow over your budding relationship. As Mattheo confronts you with what he's heard, you reveal the anger and struggles that once defined you, and the person who helped you find peace. Through heartfelt conversations and shared moments, Mattheo seeks to understand the person you once were and the journey you've taken to become who you are now. Together, you navigate the complexities of your past, finding strength in each other's acceptance and love, and forging a bond that is ready to face whatever the future holds.

A/N ; Enjoy! :3

Warnings) ; nothing

Word count ; 1.2k+

The soft glow of the setting sun bathed the Hogwarts grounds in a warm, golden hue as you walked alongside Mattheo Riddle. The two of you had spent the afternoon exploring the quieter corners of the castle, enjoying each other’s company away from the prying eyes of your peers. For once, the conversation had been light, the laughter genuine.

As you reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Mattheo suddenly stopped, his expression shifting from relaxed to contemplative. You felt a knot form in your stomach as he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours.

"I've been hearing things," he began, his voice measured. "Things about your past."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was bound to come up sooner or later. "What kind of things?"

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. "People say you were... different. That you used to get into a lot of fights. Worse than me, even."

You sighed, looking away. The memories of your past were not something you liked to dwell on. "Yeah, I did. But that was a long time ago, Mattheo. I’m not that person anymore."

Mattheo studied you for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Why did you fight so much?"

You hesitated, the old wounds threatening to reopen. "It’s complicated. I had a lot of anger back then. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I fought. It was the only way I knew how to cope."

He nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle. "What changed?"

You took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling your lungs. "I met someone who helped me see that there are other ways to handle things. They taught me how to find peace within myself. How to control my anger instead of letting it control me."

Mattheo’s gaze softened. "And you think you’ve changed?"

"I know I have," you replied firmly. "I’m not proud of who I used to be, but I’ve worked hard to become a better person."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I’m not judging you, you know. I just want to understand. It’s part of who you are, and I care about all of you, not just the parts that are easy to love."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Mattheo. That means a lot."

There was a moment of silence, the two of you standing together at the edge of the forest. The air was filled with the sounds of nature, the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

"Tell me more about it," he said finally. "About who you were back then."

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back. "I was angry at the world. I felt like I had to fight to be seen, to be heard. I didn’t care about the consequences. I just wanted to prove that I was strong, that no one could mess with me."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And now?"

"Now, I’ve learned that true strength isn’t about how many fights you can win. It’s about having the courage to walk away. To choose peace over violence."

He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m proud of you. For changing. For becoming the person you are now."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly wiping it away. "Thank you. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it."

Mattheo pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "We all have our demons. What matters is how we deal with them. And you, you’ve done something incredible."

You clung to him, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his embrace. "I just hope you can accept me, past and all."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I do. I always will."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in shadows, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. Mattheo knew the truth now, and he still cared. It was more than you could have hoped for.

"You know," he said with a grin, "I think I’d like to hear some of those stories. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

You laughed, the sound echoing through the trees. "Maybe. But only if you promise not to get any ideas."

"Deal," he said, pulling you back into a hug.

Together, you walked back towards the castle, the past no longer a shadow hanging over you but a part of your journey. And with Mattheo by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next few days were a whirlwind of exams, classes, and stolen moments with Mattheo. He had a way of making you feel at ease, his dark humor and sharp wit a constant source of amusement. But there was an underlying curiosity in his eyes, a desire to know more about the person you used to be.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, Mattheo broached the subject again. "So, tell me about your most memorable fight."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Absolutely," he replied, leaning in closer. "I want to know everything about you."

You took a deep breath, recalling the incident that had marked the turning point in your life. "There was this one time, back in my fourth year. A group of older students thought they could push me around because I was younger. They didn’t expect me to fight back."

Mattheo’s eyes gleamed with interest. "What happened?"

"I ended up breaking one guy’s nose and giving another a black eye and a broken arm," you admitted, a hint of pride in your voice. "But it wasn’t just about the fight. It was what happened afterward that changed everything."

He frowned, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"I got into a lot of trouble, obviously. Detention for a month, extra assignments, the whole deal. But Professor McGonagall, she took me aside and talked to me. She didn’t just lecture me about fighting. She asked why I was so angry."

Mattheo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And what did you tell her?"

"I broke down," you confessed. "I told her everything. About how I felt invisible, how I thought fighting was the only way to get people to notice me. She listened, really listened. And then she helped me find a way to channel my anger into something positive."

Mattheo’s grip on your hand tightened. "Sounds like she really made a difference."

"She did," you agreed. "She suggested I take up dueling, but in a controlled environment. It wasn’t about hurting others, but about mastering my skills, my emotions. It helped me find a sense of control and peace."

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I’m glad she did. I can’t imagine Hogwarts without you."

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thanks, Mattheo. It means a lot to hear you say that."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "We all have our battles, our pasts. But what matters is how we move forward. And I’m here with you, no matter what."

You kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and unspoken words. When you pulled back, you felt a sense of calm and certainty.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For accepting me."

"Always," he murmured, pulling you close.

As the fire crackled and the shadows danced around you, you knew that with Mattheo by your side, you could face whatever the future held. Your past was a part of you, but it didn’t define you. And with him, you felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

[sunnymainecoonx]

Previous

First

Unfortunately it ends here but errrrr... yuh guess what happens next :3 (details will be written later) sighs I am fully aware there were more efficient ways to post these but this week literally destroyed me so errrr yeah life's great guys(it'll be better from now on)

Oooookay ranting time!! This is gonna be a lot so..... I'd be surprised if you even read it

Based off of real complaints from multiple people, horror doesn't fit in the mtt. For a few reasons anyways...... I won't go into details on that, but ya I decided to make him worse :3 we're travellin' to cannibal horror😈 instead of eating humans he eats actual monsters tho. Because of the lack of magic and also the monsters desperate needs they're slowly turning into flesh and bone.... something horror can actually eat. Not all monsters r flesh and bones though, like papyrus for example(I killed him off guys I'm so kawaii UwU) but anyways.... by just having something in his mouth, horror's starvation gets the better of him and he goes on the hunt... and is essentially insane. I just think... he'd either eat too much or too little, sometimes accidentally starving himself and sometimes going too crazy and just. Eats too much. Either way it's resulted in a lot of vomiting..... he's kind of self aware but he's just too insane to be bothered, and kind of getting bored he gets creative with his food(prey). Sometimes he may psychologically torture them, he likes the hunting games :3 he may add soemthing to his food to see if it'll get better, and he learns a way to add monster dust to his food..... I also think it'd be silly if he studied anatomy as a part of his.... scientific side. The anatomy of critters and underground animals, so if he decides he cares enough he can actually like. Make meat out of. Yk.

As for the bad Sanses part... horror does have Lv but it's rather low bc he works more with psychological torture and cleaning up. He has fed the others human before but he's the only one that can be considered cannibal, considered he ate actual monsters. Anyways he's rlly unhealthy w food bc. Like I said, he either eats too much or too little. He learns more about cooking with nightmares books(he just got books of everything rlly) and bc of his own situation he tries to get the others to eat healthily. I don't think he'd like- take care of his own eating though... bc thoughts r getting back at him. This results in a lot of starving hismelf(cutely repeats myself a bagillion times) which results in a lot of.. "hunger pangs". Like how he reacted to fried human(Aliza) in the actual horrortale comic. So he's got bad first impressions generally...(trying to eat the others)

[guesswhojusttt]

someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little? (love me a little?)

Ren Hana x suicidal!reader

Summary:

You work at a suicide hotline, and get a call from a boy who watches too much anime. It's all downhill from there.

Full story on AO3

Chapter 1: she's my mother, I tell him, but she has never been a mother

Summary:

“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

(Note: the text messages are formatted weird on tumblr but are coded into looking like phone texts on AO3)

You sit at your desk- a quick turn in your black spinny chair- and push on a pressure point at the meat of your thumb in a little attempt to calm down. Pull on your headset, adjust the mic, and speak as kindly as you can. “Hey, I’m right here to support you- this is a judgment-free, safe space, and everything you share is entirely confidential and anonymous. You don’t even have to share your name unless you feel comfortable. What’s on your mind?”

“Are you busy right now?” The boy- young man?- is anxious, skittish.

“No, I’m available to talk as long as you need.” 

“Okay, but when you do get busy, you’ll tell me, right? If there’s- if there's someone else waiting on the line, and all the phones are occupied so no one picks up- I’d never forgive myself for taking help away from someone who actually deserves it. So if- if someone calls in, let me know and I’ll hang up, okay?”

“Okay.” You say. You will not, of course, hang up on a suicidal caller, but the guilt of using a resource they don’t ‘deserve’ wasn’t entirely uncommon. So many had started the call with I’m not suicidal so I don't even know why I’m calling, but… or I know I’m hogging something people actually need…

“Because, you know. There’s so many poor people and I’m- not. All these horrible stories about- about a spouse who hits you or having to work two jobs just to make ends meet- but I’m not- I’m privileged. Lucky. So I don’t… I really don’t know why I feel… I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.” You imagine him pulling the hem of his sleeves over his hands, wringing them, white-knuckled.

“Well, you don’t need to compare yourself to others.” You speak slowly, calmly, doing your best to soothe him. “Death by one bullet or death by a dozen is still death, yeah? Your problem is just as important as anyone else’s.”

“But it’s… silly. There’s this guy I met and- he’s like the only one who listens to me, but I’m not sure- he’s older, you know, and I don’t- it’s not like I like him like that, but my family doesn’t care about- and it's not like I have any friends- he seems nice. I think. I’m not sure.” It's like he's typing up a message, erased the whole thing, wrote a new one, backspaced, scrapped it and started from scratch again.

“I can’t give you any advice-”

“But what would you do?”

“I’m not permitted to tell you what to do-”

“I just need a second opinion. An unbiased, third party. It’s… something feels off, but he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” He huffs, sheepish. “Mostly because he’s the only person who’s bothered knowing me.”

You want to point out that it sounds codependent, that the other person is taking advantage of his desperation, that isn’t this grooming, but you inject as much understanding, as much sympathy, as you can into your voice. Judgment-free, as you’d promised. “And why does something feel off?”

“It just does. But, like… who cares about being safe, you know? Isn’t it better to be loved? Not that I love him, I hardly know him. But… he listens. No one ever listens. Um- no offense. You don’t count since it’s your job.”

“I understand,” you assure gently, “I know how important it is to have a friend. It’s normal to want to connect to anyone, even if that person doesn’t feel safe, or reliable.”

He babbles without breathing, as if scared he’ll be interrupted, or shut down, if he doesn’t let it all out at once. “Exactly- see, exactly, you get it. And it’s like- if I don't do this, I don’t know what else I’ll do. I was about to kill myself, you know? Because my date didn’t show, and this was like- this was my last shot, my one chance at having someone who loves and supports me, to have a relationship and- I've been waiting three hours here, how pathetic is that? But he came and saw I’d been stood up and let me whine about my problems and- part of me wants to just keep talking to him, go with him, but the other part… but if I don’t, that’s it. He’s my last chance, and I’ll just kill myself. So I’m in the bathroom of the restaurant now and he’s out there at my table and I’m huddled in a stall like a loser and I’m still- still not sure if he’s someone I’m- so I called here instead.”

“And I’m so proud of you for doing that.” You pour your sincerity in, and you mean it. You lean forward a little, fingers idly working at your palm’s pressure point to keep yourself, and your voice, calm. “It can be incredibly hard to reach out for help, to open up to a stranger, and you’ve done such a wonderful job for me so far. This man- he’s making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no- I mean, yes, I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not his fault. He’s really kind, actually, I mean I know it sounds weird but I swear he’s a nice guy. And like, if it’s a choice between going home alone, again-" and there's so much weight in that again, the heaviness of years of frustration and isolation and raw misery, "and how many nights and months and years can one person spend alone before they just- they just need someone? So if it’s a choice between a- a sweet guy and just- just offing myself-”

“May I ask if you still intend to end your life tonight?” You wince. You're generally not supposed to interrupt, supposed to give them the space to say everything they need to, but this guy is barreling on like his words are pus, are vomit, that he just needs to hurl up.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I… it depends. On the guy I mentioned. Some part of me thinks I should cut contact, but mostly want so badly to talk to him again. I don't know how to describe it. It's not like having a crush. It’s like… I just want him to make me feel important again.”

“Your importance is unchangeable regardless of who recognizes it or not, and no one can make you important, but naturally, all humans require external love and affection to feel it.” Your finger twitches over your mouse, considering flagging your supervisor that the caller was in danger, at-risk of some- what? Attack? Criminal? An ill-thought-out one-night stand? “Of course you want him to make you feel important- but do you feel like you’re risking your safety?”

“A little. Well. A lot. But what’s life without a little risk, right?" He chuckles self-deprecatingly, dry and bitter. "I’m just- a shut-in, watching stupid anime and reading manga all day and collecting dumb figurines and- the riskiest thing I’ve done is drinking too many energy drinks so I could stay up for a Kamisama Kiss marathon. I think… isn’t it about time I step out of my comfort zone?”

You're patient, you're kind, you're not enough. “Like I mentioned, I’m in no position to provide advice. However, we can come up with a safety plan, if you'd like? If you stay alive tonight, you can sleep on it and have a clear head to decide in the morning.”

Here’s what you should’ve done.

You should’ve flagged your supervisor. Should’ve messaged her: I think the caller might be in danger of harm from others. He has repeatedly mentioned an unsafe, unreliable man. While he hasn’t provided details, he has reported feelings of unease and uncertainty. The caller is young and has stated the man is older, and I want to ensure his safety and well-being. Your supervisor would have told you what to say- maybe to steer the caller away from the strange man- and he would’ve been okay. He would’ve been fine, and you would’ve been fine, and none of this would happen.

But all you’d done is established the next steps, a “what are your physical needs? Do you feel up for food, drinking something, or taking a shower?”

“I… don’t feel like getting water. I do have some ramune I ordered though, at my table.”

“That’s great!” You encourage. Little steps should always be rewarded, you think. “Being hydrated is good; doesn’t have to be water. Is there anything you usually do to soothe yourself?”

“Well, I… watching anime is great, but if I really wanna take my mind off things, I like to..." he trails off, a little shyly. Embarrassed, even.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me, but as long as your hobby is fun for you, that's what matters." From collecting and naming rocks to editing and monitoring all the Wikipedia pages about the Odyssey, every caller- every person- had their own way of self-soothing. 

"I know it's... a moronic waste of time, but I... sketch some self-insert OCs.”

“Drawing is very creative, and I know it can take a lot of time and effort, too. Give yourself some credit. Do you feel up for that tonight?”

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks. I think it’s best to go home, now, I’ve been at the restaurant an embarrassing amount of time anyway. Um- thanks for- being cool about all this. Bye.”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He would end up talking to the man again after all, going home with him, and wreck his life- and yours- in the process.

You jam your index finger deeper into the pressure point at the base of your thumb:

Lonely since you were a child, you filled it with what many do: video games. A hopeless romantic, you filled the need for a relationship with otome games specifically. One of them, bad boys do it better, had this scene: the strong-but-silent love interest finds the main character, the only girl at an all-boys’ school, sleepy and yawning in the classroom. He takes her hand, presses a pressure point on her palm, and she feels all invigorated and awake.

Considering you, yourself, were constantly sleep-deprived, you decided to look it up for yourself: it wasn't a fluke. Give yourself an acupressure wake-up, one article reads, 6 pressure points for falling asleep, Medical News Today lists. It becomes a hyperfixation: pressure points for period cramps, for headaches, for high blood pressure. When you’re motion sick in a car, you massage a point in your inner arm to soothe it, when the Tylenol and Advil don’t make your migraines go away, you try a pressure point between your eyes, or at the side of your brow.

Honestly, it doesn’t always work- maybe half the time?- but it’s a cool party trick. Or, would be, if you got invited to parties.

As you type up the basic information of the call (reason for calling, next steps established, suicidal risk from 1-5), you think about how everyone is suicidal, actually. There’s so many YouTube playlists- for when you want to disappear, alone… again, one more night feeling like the loneliest person in the world, when loneliness no longer a pain but a comfort, suicide at 3AM, it’s getting worse again and it’s all your fault, slowly dying- where the comment section of vent playlists and lo-fi hours are flooded with paragraphs of people either pouring out their life’s trauma or comforting words to gently encourage the reader to live another day. There’s suicide hotlines and textlines and 7 cups of tea and a steep increase in people seeking therapy this past decade, because everyone is depressed, because there’s a housing crisis and all-time highs both for poverty rates and billionaire’s incomes and and and

There isn’t really a reason to live, anymore. No dream house to look forward to, no shiny career as a writer or actor or artist or teacher when they’re so severely underpaid, no true love soulmate when there’s no third place to meet people anymore, except a bar or a club which is really just a chance to be drugged and date-raped.

So, no. You don’t think you’re depressed, you don’t think most people are depressed; rather, you think the world itself is in a very depressing state, which naturally leads to its inhabitants mirroring its circumstances.  

Well. You might be a tiny bit suicidal, but not depressed. Not really. From fantasizing about running away from home since you were eight to constantly imagining grabbing a bag and getting out of here through every single middle and high school year to the crushing disappointment of not affording a dorm and having to live with her throughout university and then, in some twisted, cruel fate, having to stay even while you work because she has chronic pain and can't work, won't work, and wouldn't you be ableist for leaving someone on so many medications to fend for themselves? 

So you work and you pay the rent and the groceries and the bills and it all goes to her bank account. Oh, sure, the account is under your name (and somehow that's worse, it's your credit score it's affecting), but it's her email and her phone number and she won't tell you the password and she's taken out some loan and your account is 4000 in debt and there's some 15% APR platinum whatever and and and 

It's not your money. You don't get to spend it, and yet you wake up and drag yourself to work even when exhausted and sit through eight grueling hours and then there’s no reward, no payoff, nothing but heading home to the same arguments and abuse and fighting and yelling and you decide, realize, in an awful epiphany, that you're not getting out. You're never getting out. 

Because it’ll only get worse. She'll grow older, and even if there's no Alzheimer's or dementia, aging will hit her- maybe she'll need a walking stick (she already uses one sometimes), or a wheelchair, or you'll need to be the one feeding her, and you'll only have to do more, more, more-

You're never going to be free. You'll be shackled to your abuser from womb to tomb.

You’re never getting out. The only solution- the quickest, easiest solution- is to kill yourself. Except that’s a sin, so you can’t. It doesn’t stop you from wishing for it, romanticizing it- all of which is so deeply, wickedly ironic, as your job is to keep others from fulfilling your greatest desire. Callers blur together- my dad is an alcoholic and I’ve never heard a kind word from him, my little sister’s dead and I can’t get over it, I’ll never get over it- and every day, you soothe them, help them establish a safety plan, connect them to resources for mental health- peer support groups and affordable, sliding-scale therapists and a million other ways to help them, to keep them alive, even while you so deeply ache to die, yourself.

Some never call again, and you hope that means things are better, now. That they found a reason to live. Some are regular callers- maybe you don’t speak to them every time, but it shows up on your screen- that they’ve called four times this year, that the last time they were calling it was about academic stress and this time it’s about the loneliness of summer vacation, and it- kills you, that you can’t help everyone. Can’t save everyone. Once, halfway through a conversation where the caller had been pouring her heart out- about how she’d thrown away her life, how she’d studied and worked so hard to be a doctor but then got married to a man who insisted she stay home to raise their first kid, then their third, then their fifth, and now her degree is twenty years old and she’s got this huge gap in her resume and no one wants to hire her and there’s a new baby, again, and she wishes she could just- oh, what’s the point? (And you hear a pill bottle rattling). It’s never going to get better, and there’s nothing you can tell me that’ll change anything. Sorry for wasting your time.

And she hung up, and never called again, and you can only hope, but never know, that she hadn’t taken the pills.

And though you felt like a hypocrite, the truth is, you really do believe the things you say. When you assure a caller that he’s not too demented to deserve to live, when you encourage his love for plants and say "staying alive just because no one else will love and take care of your plants the way you do isn't ridiculous, Lawrence. Tending to and watering your plants is a perfectly valid reason to live", you mean it. You do.

Somehow, none of the words you tell others seem to apply to you.

You don’t how many months or years pass like this, this blurry awful misery. The call with the anxious boy at the restaurant blends with the thousands you’ve gotten since then. You fought about- something, this morning, with your mother. Some biting remarks about you being an idiot or ungrateful, some mumbled apologies on your end, but when she calls you spoiled you remind her “you’re not doing me a favor by driving me to work- it’s not like driving me to a sleepover where I’m doing it for fun. This is our only source of income, and you can’t just not drive me, because who else is going to pay for a roof and a meal?”

Her face contorts, as it always does, to that indignant snarl. “You think I have to drive you? I don’t have to do anything. I don’t owe you anything. I’m your mother, it's your job to look after me. You can’t neglect me: that’s abuse.”

You sigh. Not mad. Not even irritated. Just... just whatever. “You do have to drop me off here, or else I miss a whole day’s pay and how am I going to cover your medical bills?” 

“Are you threatening me? How dare you?” She hisses, slamming on the pedal- to prove a point, driving past your workplace. 

“Slow down. I'm getting out.” At this point, at this age, you get fed up quickly, skipping right from fear to anger to just being done. You click open the door, scan the grey sidewalk blurring, passing by- slipping through your fingers, you think vaguely, like your life.

“Close the door, you moron, I’m not paying for your surgery if you split your skull open.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to, but glad to know!” You gauge the ground, stick one leg out, the other one too, and-

Walk the distance left to work.

Sometimes, you can’t believe this is your life. You’d worked hard, damn it, and you’re a good person, so why isn’t the world good back to you? Why are you still stuck here, with her?

How immature, you think. How childish do you have to be to drive past your daughter's work- which you need, for money, for survial- just to spite her. And you know the moment she picks you up from work she'll be yelling through the car ride home, and then when you enter the apartment, and all through the night. Your coworkers often found working at a suicide hotline emotionally taxing, and looked forward to weekends and holidays as a break from the stress, but- for you, work was your safe haven.

As you talk down someone who's maybe ten minutes away from throwing themselves off a roof, your phone vibrates. Again. And again.

000-000-0000 Yesterday 10:15 PM if you go to sleep and die tonight, you're going to Hell Today 9:05 AM Why? Why are you doing this to me? Don't worry, I won't touch your money and I won't take anything from you. I won't even eat from the food we have anymore since it's all been bought with your money like you said Idk why you have been doing this You want me to stay miserable and under our control and do exactly what you want. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why?

You don't have her saved as a contact, so you only see her phone number. It feels wrong to title her 'mom', when that word carries all these connotations of unconditional love and gently braiding your hair and a warm bowl of soup on a sick school day. She has nothing to do all day, is the thing, just rewatching Friends for the 60th time or knitting- so she texts you, and can get all worked up and have a full fight and conversation all by herself, without you needing to lift a finger. Simply existing, you think, is enough to warrant the torrent of abuse.

You get a call and shut off your phone, slipping right into your sweet, soothing voice as you greet a young girl with a razor in hand. You reassure her, hear her out (no, there's nothing wrong with wanting to leave, I understand you want to help him but if he's abusing you, you need to help yourself first), and transfer her to the employment assistance department, where they can help her set up her resume and cover letter and get out of living with him. Your break is spent in the bathroom doing breathing exercises to calm down, your lunch is spent mindlessly scrolling through Dead Dove: Do Not Eat recommendations, and you almost know what you're about to read before you turn on your phone.

000-000-0000 Today 4:18 PM Don't act like you are this innocent, sweet, little wonderful person You always do horrible thing so don't play this victim role again I'm exhausted of those games you keep playing Like when you were a baby, you'd cry in your room just to manipulate me into picking you up. I didn't fall for it obviously but you're still playing the same mind games Acting so pure and innocent Stop being so cruel and get back to your senses Once you are ready to apologize, maybe I'll pick you up from work. Otherwise have fun sleeping there

It's as good a chance as any, you decide. You had a bag under your desk for precisely this chance, but always chickened out at the last minute. But this is an opportunity to not be at home without her questioning it...

So you'd done it. You'd finally done it. The good thing about not having control over your own money- not even knowing the credit card number or the password for your account- is that you don't have very many things. Oh, you have clothes and little knick-knacks, but they're easy to pack. To zip up, to stuff snacks and-

You need your IDs. Your passport, your social security. She had them just a few weeks ago, but eventually, when she was in a good mood, you'd mustered up the courage to ask for them. Why do you need them? Just need to take a picture for this one job I'm applying to. It'll pay more than this one.

You'd tucked them into your bag too, and while most people would find it safer to store their things at home than at work, the space under your desk was guaranteed to remain untouched, while your bedroom didn't have a lock.

You don't know how to drive- she never taught you, and driver's lessons cost money you don't get to control- and public transport is spotty at best. You've never been fit, getting winded after five minutes of walking and legs aching after 10, and you realize quickly that this is inefficient and you've gotta find a way to at least be out of the city so you don't risk her finding you, somehow.

Where do the homeless, the elderly, the disabled, the lost go to for resources, go to be pointed in the right direction?

Actually, it would be the masjid, but you know your mother would go there.

You go to the library, sit down in a big, drooping bean bag chair, and breathe.

It was exhilarating. Scary and risky and dumb, yes, but what a relief! Finally, what you've been dreaming every single day for two decades, finally, you're no longer collared and leashed, finally, you get to start some flimsy attempt at being an independent adult, finally-

You need to open your own bank account. You click on one of the library monitors, leaning in to the computer and Googling banks. Chase. Schwab. Wells Fargo. Credit unions. Everyone has bad experiences with every bank, based on Reddit, but then one comment points out that all banks are the same. Just a place to keep your money, as long as you don't rack up overdraft fees or debt.

You'd actually tried opening your own bank account before, back in February, because this isn't the first time you've been hard-hit with the need to run away. You'd tried to sign up for Chime, which, ironically, while supposed to be for people who need money when in a tight position, had rejected your application- possibly for not having a credit score (?). Someone online too had posted that it's ironic the very site for people in a bind still wouldn't accept those who were, you know, actually in a bind.

You'd researched on banks without interests, found someone on Reddit asking it, and someone who worked at Schwab had detailed how to call someone and ask for a certain tier and walk them through giving a no-interest account.

It had been great. You signed up. You never verified it (or did you? You don't think you did), and now, when calling, they said they had closed your account because your social security number didn't match the other information, that you would have to take a W9 to a physical location so they can confirm your social and go from there.

You try to sign up for Chase, except it needs a driver's license or state ID, and you have neither. You try to sign up for Wells Fargo, but it needs a valid phone number, and you don't have a phone plan, only e-numbers, so it doesn't accept it.

You're almost tempted to ask a librarian. You'd seen posts about librarians helping someone who's drunk or unstable or homeless, but- they're not social workers. This isn't their job, you don't want to inconvenience them and it's- embarrassing. This is all so embarrassing. You're a grown adult, why don't you have everything together by now?

Ok. No bank account. Maybe you can use PayPal? Just for now? You'll need to afford public transportation, and a deposit for a new apartment- better to be with roommate, so you don't have to pay the $300 non-refundable application fee, to have to provide a reference from your previous landlord, so a roommate is necessary, non-negotiable, because your previous apartment...

It had been under your name, of course, since it's your income. But your mother was furious at them for charging one (or five?) thousand dollars, either for moving out before the lease was over or for the security deposit or whatever, but she insisted you stop taking out the trash. When she saw you trying to take a bag, she- well, she yelled as she always does. The bathroom and kitchen and everything were trashed, and you did your best to sweep up your room, your bathroom to hallway, to clean up-

But the kitchen was a mess, and the dining area (which was just the cats' area), had an overflowing litter box and a giant pile of dozens for overflowing, near-bursting trash bags. The smell was awful, fruit flies and all sorts hovering and buzzing and oozing everywhere, but your mother in her spite insisted to leave it untouched. That they should clean it up themselves.

So. No recommendation from that landlord, which means find a roommate who already has a lease, and then that new landlord can give you a recommendation when you get your own apartment.

How to find a roommate who'd take someone with not a single dollar- unemployed, now, since you were leaving the city with your job in it- nothing to offer, except maybe cooking and cleaning, which you hated as you find chores menial and redundant- why bother making your bed or folding your clothes when they'd be unfolded, your bed unmade, just some hours later? It doesn't make sense. It's a waste of time.

Cooking, too, feels tedious and unrewarding. An hour of cooking for ten minutes of eating? No thank you.

Your best bet is to get a job, and use that to get a roof over your head. Till then, all sorts of food banks and shelter can give you enough food in your stomach to keep your back upright enough, mind alive enough, to start the job-hunting agony.

But this job requires a driver's license and a personal vehicle, and this job requires you to be physically there in person, you'd apply to jobs all over so couldn't possibly be in all places at once. You sit in the library till your leg falls asleep, foot staticky, neck hunched over, finger cramping, mindlessly applying for 100 jobs, 200 jobs. Something has to give. Just statistically speaking, one of them has to respond.

Right? Right?

But the library closes too early, and cafes and restaurants close down too, and you can't exactly take refuge in a 24-7 convenience or grocery store.

You could try a fast food place, then? A bar?

Not a bar. Never a bar. Way too many stories about what happens to dumb, defenseless girls in a bar too late at night.

It's your first night out alone and you need a place to sleep, but the nearest shelter is an hour and a half of walking and you're just- you need to rest your eyes and wrists from hours of staring at the computer screen, need to sit down and eat and you're entering the first fast food restaurant you find. Electric blue and neon orange lights dazzle the windows and invite you in, a cracked black leather bench in the corner your beloved refuge. It's a little maddening, a little torturous, to sit and smell the grease and that fat and hear the sizzles and hisses but be unable to do a thing about the saliva pooling your mouth, coating your tongue. Your stomach grumbles, a dying whale, the aroma of cheap burgers and oily fries flooding your nostrils.

You're this close to burying your head in your hands and sobbing. Yes, you have snacks in your bag, but you'd grazed on them absently while running your job application marathon.

You've never been very good with hunger. While others around you can have just breakfast, lunch, and dinner- while they can sit at their 8-and-a-half-hour shift at work and eat only during the 30 minute lunch break, you were always eating at your desk. Answering emails, in between phone calls, you're always, constantly hungry. Nothing you eat ever seems to be enough- maybe because you don't actually eat sufficiently, don't eat enough in a day adequate enough to fulfill your needs- so your stomach always feels empty.

But now, it actually is empty, and the void makes it impossible to focus on anything but the hunger. To think rationally. To consider maybe shoplifting, and at least if they arrest you there'll be food in prison, right?

Right?

Your stomach groans again, as frustrated with your situation as you are, and you think you really will cry. The smell of the cheese, the meat, the cheap beer-

You didn't know this place sold beer.

It doesn't. You've seen the menu a million times. You lift your hand, eyes darting to catch the culprit-

The only other customer this late at night is a man seated at the bench before yours. You see him hunched over a gloriously loaded double-burger- the colors of pale green lettuce and bright red tomatoes enchant you, and a dollop of thick mayo dribbles down the flaky sesame-seed bun, splatting onto the crinkly paper wrapper on the shiny black table.

A slash of envy sears through you. You need that burger more than he does, need that large Styrofoam cup of soda with the cold condensation along its sides infinitely more than him, and you're hit with a desire to snatch it. You know, logically, you can't take him in a fight, but like. What do you have to lose?

He catches you staring.

If you weren't so hungry, you'd be embarrassed, even apologize, but as it is your eyes linger on the grease shining on his thick fingers, on the smear of too-orange cheese dashed along the corner of his lip.

He raises a slightly bushy, brown eyebrow. It's the same cheap beer brown of his eyes, which are a little wide, a little giddy. 

You squirm, uncomfortable, pinned by his gaze like a butterfly- a moth- to a corkboard. "You wan' some?" His mouth is a little full, but even so you catch the lilt of a German accent just beneath his voice.

"Oh, no, I-" heat smarts your face, but he interrupts you, jovial and inviting,

"Your stomach, I'm sure, begs to differ. Come on, I can order you whatever you like, bud."

Bud was... less harassing, less off-putting, than sweetheart or baby or the assorted nicknames drunken men hollered at anything with a rack and two legs. if you ignore his too-cheerful grin, the little manic glint and gleam of his eyes, the use of bud would put you at ease.

But you can't ignore it, and it doesn't, and you get to your feet to leave. "Thanks, but I'm okay. I'll just make some dinner at home."

"No need to be shy! It's okay to rely on the kindness of strangers," he stands up too, already ambling to the counter to order for you, "large fries, a vanilla shake, and a hearty double bacon cheeseburger for my new friend."

"Oh, um, I prefer chocolate, actually." You felt half-guilty for being picky, and half-incensed that he ordered for you without consulting. You don't even eat bacon. 

The cashier- her dreads tied back in a loose ponytail, her red shirt uniform with a crooked name tag- clicks her tongue. "So is it vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla. Right, buddy?'' His grin is big and cheerful and encouraging, nudging, nagging. Almost instinctively, you find your shoulders rounding tighter, find your body curling to make yourself smaller. 

"Right."

He's- satisfied? Almost proud with the way he pats your shoulder, like you passed some unspoken test by deferring to his choice, rather than holding your ground. 

(Maybe it would've been better to fail it).

She rings up your (his, really) order, nails click-clacking as she types, Strade ripping the small slip of receipt and- it really is tiny, in his large palm, all thick fingers and brown hair curling over the back of his hand. When he crumples the paper, his veins sort of- do a kind of pulsing thing you think you like.

But you still don't like how he ordered for you, how he insisted on a flavor you don't prefer. You know it was intentional.

You just can't figure out why.

He picks up the navy tray for you, and that irks you, too: why don't you get to carry your own food? What, is he going to hand-feed you too?

You sit across from him, and when you unwrap the yellow-and-white checkered paper, scrunching it up- the combined scent of the fat and oil and meat is enough to haze over any apprehension, any irritation you might have had, quelled by knowing this sandwich- large enough you pick it up with both hands- is for you. 

You pluck out a strip of crispy bacon and offer it to him, a sort of olive branch. He takes it- thumb and forefinger pinching it, and smiles lazily.

"I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah." You bite into the sandwich, not elaborating. No need to. If you could, you'd maybe nick his credit card- it wouldn't be nice considering he just fed you for the night, but you could stick it in an ATM, get the cash out before he calls the bank to close the card, and- he'd be fine. He'll be fine. You need the money more than he does. But how to pickpocket without him noticing-?

"Something bothering you?" He asks, dipping a long, limp fry into a shallow well of thick ranch. "It's easier to talk about it to a stranger, you know? That way you don't have to worry about it changing your relationship with them, or their judgment, because you won't see them again."

"Hm." It was a good point. But if you've never told anyone else about it, were you really about to trauma dump to some eccentric stranger? 

"I don't mind, really, and I can tell you need it."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"Something about it in the eyes."

"You really wanna know?"

"Of course, buddy, I'm all ears. I love helping people!"

"Fine." You smack your hands flat on the table, get up, and sit next to him. Up close, the musk of cheap beer mixes with sweat and grease in the world's strangest cologne.

You glare at your phone, click it on, and let him read over your shoulder.

000-000-0000 Today 2:04 AM It's all about you and if something doesn't go like how your majesty wants or likes then it's all bad I'm not a fan of drama and I can't tolerate entitled brats like you who thinks the world owes them something just for breathing Guess what? You are the abusive one and always have been. From this point on I will not take orders from you You have no idea how hard it is to be your mother. I sacrificed my LIFE for you. Do you know how painful it is to give birth? Every day I was pregnant with you was torture, and it as even worse when you were born. I had to stay up all day feeding you and all night putting you to sleep. You were a NIGHTMARE. I thought you'd grow out of it but I guess you're still a baby I have done so much for you and I have been through so much and you have no idea

He reads quietly- thinking, analyzing- and breaks into a positively delighted smile. You can't tell if it's the grin a groom dons on his wedding day or the grin a dog bares before cornering its prey. "Oh, mein schätzelein. You're perfect."

You eat in amicable company, and it's- nice. It is lovely, actually, to have dinner with someone you're not scared of, someone you don't have to worry about setting off or angering or harming you. Strade is- a little weird, sure, but a nice guy. You give him your bacon, he gives you a ketchup packet to squeeze onto your fries, and you let him scroll through days and weeks of your mother's texts and felt a twinge of validation every time he said something like "can't blame you for running away", a rush of satisfaction, of vindication, of it's not just me, I'm not crazy, she really is abusive, it wasn't just me being entitled after all. You find yourself inching a little closer to him every time he makes a remark like, "isn't she aware it's her job to take care of you, not the other way around?"

Something incredible blooms between your rib cage and behind it, making your cheeks flush and your fingertips tingle and your eyes sting just a bit. No one had ever bothered to hear you out, to just sit there and make biting, almost cruel comments about your mother with every text he read, to make you feel so important. You half-wish you could work up the courage, could be bold enough to tell him that you didn't have a place to put your head down tonight, just so he could offer, just so you could have an excuse to spend more time with him.

You sweep up the trash and crumpled straw wrappers while he returns his tray and yours and it's wonderful. Even if you can't go home with him, you almost want to make this a routine, make it so you can meet up every week, on a melancholy evening like this, and exchange bad food while he listens and provides a (strong, broad) shoulder.

He's just such a good listener.

~~~~

Author's notes:

Mein Schätzelein = My little treasure The parallel of the chapter starting with Ren thinking and feeling the exact same way MC does at the end of the chapter,,, buckle in folks Look, basically I want 1) to torture strade and 2) to save ren. However there's pretty much zero (0) fics about it so that means rolling up my sleeves, learning how to do the work skin that lets me insert phone-texting into the chapter, and doing it myself. Comment whatever thoughts you have and thanks for reading <33 ~~~ Also, while we're all little freaks that might enjoy a bit of horror, a quick reminder that in real life there's actual horrors going in the world- specifically, the genocide Palestine. Please take a moment to email and/or call your representatives , click-to-donate (free, donation revenue via ads), check out the boycott list, do what little things you can to help.

[itjazzbicch]

Particular Attention

Pairing: Shimmon Benimaru x Fem Reader

First time writing for Fire Force & Benimaru,  so I hope I did well!

Summary: Inspired by Season 2 Ep 1 (The calendar photoshoot! This will be a mini-series w/multiple characters)

Learning the Konro had secretly taken his picture for the Fire Force nude calendar, Benimaru takes his S/O, the reader, to the bathhouse with him in case someone were to snap his photo again, and the inevitable tension quickly takes their attention...

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) Swearing, foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it!), Established relationship.

Word Count: 0.8k

“I still can’t believe Konro was taking those photos for the calendar behind my back.”

Typical Benimaru not wanting to take part in the yearly calendar event. I understood but took the opportunity to tease him as we entered our private section in the bathhouse.

“Did you bring me to keep watch or for something else?”

Letting my robe drop, I giggled at his eyes staring at my ass, the water steaming hot as I submerged slowly.

“You’re something else,” He groaned, dropping his towel and joining me in the water, sitting back and exhaling deeply as the hot water consumed him.

“Oh, come on. Loosen up,” I giggled, slipping behind him to rub his shoulders, whispering in his ear, “You don’t realize how appealing you are to the naked eye, do you?”

“I don’t seek attention or flattery,” He mumbled, relaxing against me as I massaged deeper, adding kisses along his neck:

“Yeah, but at least allow me to give you some attention. Hm, baby?”

“Urgh,” I swear that he enjoyed being grumpy, trying to hide the satisfaction behind his groan, subconsciously tilting his head to expose more of his neck, mumbling, “You’re lucky to be the only one to have my heart.”

“I am,” I purred, deepening my kisses, hand grazing his thigh to find his stiffening cock, stroking softly, “And so grateful.”

“Mmhm,” He hummed, slouching as I stroked his cock faster, thumb teasing his swelling tip, staring off for a moment as he was thinking.

“Something on your mind?”

“Just making sure Konro or anyone else is trying to snap photos.”

“With me here?” I laughed, reverting to my slow strokes, “They’d be signing their death certificate.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, taking my hand, “If he does, he’ll probably drop dead from what he sees. Get over here.”

“No one’s lurking, Beni,” If anyone were, I’d sense it. We were all alone, so I gladly got up and stood before him, going to kiss him.

“I’m not worried about that,” Placing a finger on my lips and then pushing me to guide me around; he made it clear he wanted me sitting on his cock, “Only worried about what you started.”

“You know I’ll take care of it,” I smiled, back facing him as I straddled over his thighs, naturally able to line myself up with his cock.

“Yeah, you better,” He toyed, tapping my ass and holding as his tip rolled through my folds, letting him feel that I was slicked and ready, the familiar stretch having a moan ooze from my lips.

“I’ll always love that,” I cooed, sitting down to enjoy how his cock always had me stuffed, gently rolling my hips forward.

“Need some motivation or something?” He was so impatient, fingers swimming to my clit to make my nerves run wild, the judders making my hips roll quicker by instinct, “You know how I like it, so c’mon.”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking our time sometimes, you know?” I gasped, shooting an audacious look back at him before picking myself up, leaving just his tip, “But if that’s what you want, baby.”

The water splashed from how hard my ass smacked against him, taking him deeper and deeper each time I rose and bounced up and down, not fighting the lewd moans that grew along with my movements, the satisfaction strong in his lingering moan:

“Ughhh. Y/N, baby- “

Taking two handfuls of my ass, every ripple and jiggle of my skin had him falling into delirium, digging into my plush, an idea in mind as his tense hand glided up my back, pushing me forward.

“Beni-“ The angle had my clutch around him strengthen, gripping to his knees as his hands found my hips.

“Stay just like that,” He cooed, thrusting upward so his tip would hit the pits of my stomach, my yelps of pleasure almost drowning out his following command, “Keep bouncing, too. If you can handle it.”

“Uh-Uh,” Bouncing into his thrusts, my walls started to throb, the friction stronger, and the way he could split always had me cock drunk and submissive to him, “I can, Beni!”

“I know you can, sweetheart,” He always knew when I was close, lost in bliss and wanting my pussy clamping his cock even harder, his hands guiding my hips into a harder, faster pace.

“Gosh-“ The steam from the bath filled my head and turned it to must, burning hotter and hotter as I got closer, babbling out pleases that mixed with my whimpers and moans, “Beni-i! Ah-ahh!”

Our skin meeting almost felt like electricity. It was heavenly, extremely potent when he pulled me back toward him, hugging my upper half and kneading my breasts as I was still whimpering, creaming his cock, and the intense throbbing from my orgasm had his cock twitching, struggling to fight the urge of cuming in me.

“That’s too good,” His warm, deep breath grazed my ear, not finished with me as he panted softly with impatience, “Let’s go to the showers so I can finish.”

“In a second?” I needed a moment for my nerves to calm before moving, smiling at the annoyance in his eyes, brushing back his dark locks, and pressing my lips to his cheek, “Don’t worry. I’ll never leave you unsatisfied, hon.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

[theplanetplu20]

Stress Reliever

pairing(s): Larissa Weems x reader

warning(s): NSFW, mommy kink, praise kink, etc

summary: You’ve been stressing over finals, so larissa takes it upon herself to help you relax a little ;)

word count: 1.6k

A/N: I wrote the reader to have no gender but since i’m afab they have female genitalia. This is also my first time writing smut so pls be kind lmaooo I don’t even know if this is good but i wrote it so i’m posting it lmk what you think :)

(also sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes i fr do have a learning disability 💀)

I open my eyes wide for a second trying to force myself awake as I stare into the bright screen in front me. I’ve been staring at it so long it’s burning my brain and melting my eyes. but with my exam coming up this monday i can’t afford to stop. It’s exam week and due to having a learning disability it’s always been harder for me to retain information especially when having such bad anxiety makes it even worse. I’ve been so stressed with making sure i know the material well enough that I didn't hear the door creak open. I felt a pair of hands come up onto my shoulders giving them a light squeeze before messaging them slowly. I groan and lean my head back so it’s resting against her stomach and I try and snuggle my face closer to her not enjoying the clothes in my way.

“What did I say to you about overworking yourself, darling?” she says calmly, not exactly mad but not impressed. I look up at her from my place still tucked into her stomach and then back to being smushed into her. I mumble back embarrassed that this is like the fifth time she’s had to pull me away from school work that’s been bothering me. She moves a hand into my hair scratching at the base of my hairline then pulling her fingers through my hair getting any tangles that formed during my frustration. “What was that love? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“You said not to and to make sure i at least take breaks” she hums

“and how long has it been since you’ve taken a break?” she can tell i’ve been sitting here for hours the way my desk is an absolute mess as well as myself.

“I don't know to be honest” I pull my head back a little looking up at her. I can feel my eyes starting to tear up being overwhelmed.

“Oh honey, it’s okay” she continues playing with my hair successfully calming me down. I sigh, content being in her arms. I start shifting in my seat a little suddenly aware of how painful it is to sit at a desk for hours on end. “Come on, up you get, let’s get your legs moving” She takes my hands and gently pulls me up. After being sat for long, my legs feel stiff and uncomfortable and my knees buckle a bit causing me to fall into larissa.

“ ‘m sorry” I mumble, gripping her shoulders. she responds but pulling me into her and pressing a kiss onto my forehead comfortingly.

“don’t worry we’ll get you moving and better in no time” she smiles at me “come on let’s go for a small walk around the room, do you think you can do that?” I nod dumbly, loving seeing this caring side of her. She holds my waist as we just pace the room a bit, stretching my legs out till they feel slightly better. “Any better?”

“A bit, they’re still sore. I didn't really even realize the time. I don't think I even moved an inch in the last five hours” I say, frowning at myself.

“hm, how about next time we’ll set alarms at certain times to make sure you get up, walk around a bit and drink some water? how does that sound?” I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that.

“yeah that sounds good actually, thank you” She smiles warmly at me

“Of course, my love anytime” She leans down to kiss me slowly and steadily. I quickly become immersed in the feeling of her lips on mine wanting more. I lightly bite down on her bottom lip causing her to gasp lightly and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. We quickly fight for dominance but it doesn’t last long as I’m quick to give in. I feel her hands start to roam my body causing my want to grow. I grip the back of her neck pushing myself more into her not feeling close enough. She’s the first to pull back and starts making her way down my jaw to my neck leaving small kisses until she finds her favorite spot on my neck and begins to mark my skin. My breath is heavy and I have the desperate need to feel her close. I whine pathetically as she pulls away adminering her work.

“What do you need, darling? she says into my ear causing me to whimper

“god, you, I need you right now,” she smiles widely at my words. She walks me backwards till my legs hit the bed and i fall down onto it.

“Well all you had to do was ask. I think my baby deserves a reward for working so hard, what do you think?” she asks you to rub her thumb over ur bottom lip and grips your face lightly so you have to look her in the eye. i nod, half not trusting myself to speak, half completely mesmerized by her and unable to. “I wanna hear you” she grips my face, eyes narrowing a little.

“yes mommy, i’ve been so good i promise” I plead already completely at her will. seemingly satisfied with my answer she leans down to plant a quick kiss to my lips before pulling back.

“Then take off your clothes and lay down on the bed for me, why don’t you?” she watches your every move as you take off your shirt to your pants leaving you in your underwear. “Those too honey” she says as she herself starts to unbutton her own shirt. I can feel my face flush red with her gaze on me. I quickly pull my underwear off and lay back onto the bed waiting for her to finish taking off her own clothes. My eyes never leave hers as she makes her way towards me, feelings of anticipation bubbling under my skin. “You always work yourself so hard my love eventually you’ll wear yourself out, let me take care of you” my breath catches in my throat as pushes her hands up my stomach past my chest and back down just barely avoiding where I want her most desperately.

“Please” I whimper out needing to feel her in me. She runs her hands down my thighs lightly messaging them making me moan out rather loudly causing a smile to grace her face.

“Please what?” Her smile turns into a smirk as she gets closer towards the tops of my thighs

“Please fuck me mommy please” I was getting slightly desperate but refrained from bucking towards her hands. Her hands guide my legs up so she has more access.

“Awe, you’re all wet and desperate for me, it's almost pitiful” she hovers over my clit and it takes everything in me not just to push down and find sweet relief but I refuse to not get this reward. I deserve it. I squirm practically drooling for her hands to be on me. “Look at you being so good” she moves to circle my clit making me twitch and whine. She brings her face close to my ear pressing a light kiss under it before moving right by it before pushing two fingers deep inside me causing my eyes to roll back and my mouth to open slightly “mommy’s gonna take good care of you darling” I moan loudly at her words feeling pleasure everywhere. She keeps a steady pace as she brings her other hand up my body, running it up and down the skin of my stomach. She makes her way down my body leaving a trail of kisses. I was already so worked up it didn’t take long for me to get close. I clenched around her fingers.

“I-i’m gonna cum, oh fuck-“ I’m a moaning mess under touch and i’m one touch away from exploding at the seems when suddenly she pulls away lesving me clenching around nothing. “no, no i’ve been so good please mommy I want to cum” I beg, upset i’m being denied what i want.

“I know you have darling, mommy just wants you to cum so hard you forget all about your stressful day, so i want you to hold off as long as you can, can you do that for me baby?” I nod frantically just wanting her back on my body, feeling empty without her fingers in me. “that’s my good baby” suddenly three fingers plunge into me making me scream out in pleasure. My eyes squeeze shut, not being able to focus on anything other than her.

“Holy shit, Larissa” I can't stop the string of profanities that is out of my mouth. I suddenly feel her mouth suck and lick at my clit making my mind go hazy and my legs to shake. “I-i cant..i-” I'm barely able to form words as she invades all my senses. She seems to understand though.

“Cum for me y/n” My hands grip the sheets under me hard till my knuckles turned white as my orgasam pluses through me leaving me a shaking, gasping mess. Larissa is quick to lick every last drop but careful not to bother my sensitive clit. She kisses up my thighs and presses a hard kiss to my lips quickly to deepen it so I can taste myself on her tongue. I moan at the taste and she breaks away to place a bunch of soft kisses to my face. She moves to lay down beside me pulling me into her. “Feeling better?” she whispers in my hair while she runs her fingers over my skin in a comforting way.

“So much better” I mumbled, already falling asleep. you ended up passing out right away leaving Larissa to quietly clean you up admiring how peaceful you looked blissed out from her touch. She moves back into the bed pulling the covers over you both

“I love you darling” she presses a kiss to your temple before slowly drifting to sleep herself.

[kit-williams]

IKEA bookshelf

Male Lead(s): Your Iron Warrior & Your parents Imperial Fist Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Canon Status: ???

Note: Sorry for being late I'm a mom first then a writer second

I had finally moved out on my own. Finally getting a place of my own and also a tag along of my own... a Iron Warrior whom wasn't giving me a name. Was unsure if this was a bond or just a small curiosity... but either way he just helped moved me in and took some food as payment like most astartes.

"Ferrox you better not be eating the cookies!" I say as Ferrox was like a cat sometimes when it was quiet it meant he was getting up to something. I've had to scold him as since he was being very non committal with me I wasn't going to let him tinker in my house. And besides I had to get everything ready for my parents to visit.

"Ferrox no you can't thinker with that." I say as I see him pull the boxes of Ikea furniture into the main room. He says something I don't understand... I'm not bothering with learning Gothic until he decides to stay with me or not. But I can see his frown as if he is asking why he can't help with that. "My parents are visiting." You say and he just responds back not wanting to listen.

Before I can try to get him out the doorbell rings and I head over opening the door. "Mom, Dad, Kester!"

Ferrox paused as he could hear the unmistakable gait of another space marine.

I could hear Ferrox walk up behind me as I was giving Kester a hug and then I could hear Ferrox growling... like legitimately growling. "No No no!" I say as Kester moves between my parents and me and Ferrox. Kester was out of armor while Ferrox was in armor so if a fight went down Kester would be at a disadvantage.

"You should have told us you got an Iron Warrior." My dad says a little disappointedly.

"Yeah well he comes and goes as he pleases I don't even know if we're bonded and I just happened to be the current person who has been taking care of the local feral Iron Warrior." I say as I jostle to get around the wall that is Kester.

"BOYS!" I shout causing both of them to look at me. "Okay either you have to leave Ferrox or you both have to get along. So stop growling at Kestor... now." I say glaring up at the Iron Warrior who to my surprise acquiesces. I move inside as he is frowning at the furniture now knowing why I got it.

Lucky for me I bring the piece of furniture to the spare room which has several boxes. I give Ferrox some of those cookies he was eying as he broods. I'm far too busy to notice how he slips away into the room Kestor is in... I'm too busy drinking wine with my mom and dad to notice the two spaces marines slip out of the apartment to only return with spare lumber and paint... and a lot of other items that should have all been found inside of the Ikea boxes.

I pause coming out of the bathroom as I hear both Kestor and Ferrox in the room and go to open the door before Ferrox pushes the door closed.

"What is it little one?" Kestor says slowly through the door.

"Was just making sure you two are getting along... are you enjoying building the furniture?"

"Yes little one we have come to a truce. We are fo- um we are working together." Kestor says switching his words after a mysterious thump. I was worried about what they were getting up to.

"You're not building like a bug out shelter or something are you?" I feel the need to ask.

"No." I hear two voices rumble and I just nod to myself.

"So what are the boys up to." My dad asks.

"Building. Seems they formed a truce and are working together... which means I have no idea what the room is going to look like afterwards." I say with a sigh as I don't hear any powertools or anything so maybe they are just building the furniture.

Eventually the two come out of the room and seem a bit more friendly with each other but Ferrox is keeping me out from looking as Kestor allows my parents to look but not me.

"Alright sweetheart we're going to go back to the hotel." My dad says before kissing my cheek as I give them both a hug and kiss and doing the same for Kestor.

Once they are all gone I look at Ferrox whom this is the first time he's stayed so long. "Alright show me what you two did."

I open up the guest room door holding my breath as I look at the room. The furniture looks wildly different from what I had gotten... I don't think a single piece was built in the way it was suppose to be but it was all laid out so very nicely... I don't remember buying a book self... I'm pretty sure there were dressers... I raise an eyebrow as I realize they brought in outside wood and pieces. I chuckle softly.

I lean against him and do my best to wrap an arm around his waist, "Thank you Ferrox. What you and Kestor did means a lot to me." Of course Ferrox preens under my praise. And does more preening as I walk around the room looking at each piece of furniture.

Fluffuary Tag list: @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

[captain-mj]

hi, i’m in desperate need of anything priceghost! my week has been honestly so bad, so i just want to ghost hurting a lil and price helping fix him up. i just love the dynamic that u made with them and the way u write them together

you obviously can just ignore this if you don’t feel like writing or don’t care for it, but have a good day regardless!

Sorry its a bit late, I haven't been in my inbox much lately! Also my internet went out half way through writing it so most of it was written on my phone 😭

Ghost grumbled a little and sighed as he got on the plane. He knew as soon as Nik saw he was hurt he'd report it to Price immediately. No matter how much Ghost told him he was fine. What a snitch.

This time though, he was pretty hurt so he couldn't be too mad at him. Price sounded worried over the comms. His voice felt like a balm though.

The moment he stepped foot on base, Price descended. He pushed Ghost forward, leading him quickly to his room instead of medical.

"You know me so well." The tight grip on his hips made me smile under his mask. "Thank you."

Price shook his head. "You need to be more careful. There's no reason you should've gotten hurt."

Ghost knew he was worried, so he didn't point out that this type of thing is inevitable regardless of how good he is. He also moved... wrong somehow and felt all of the muscles in his thigh ripple with pain from the still aching knife wound so words were escaping him.

Price had him sit on his chair in his office and he knelt down in front of him, helping him to remove his shoes.

"John..." Ghost said softly, feeling strangely out of breath from the short walk. "I can handle it myself."

Price kissed Ghost's uninjured knee and undid his belt. Any other time and Ghost would maybe throw in an inappropriate joke, but something about the way Price's eyebrows were furrowed kept him subdued. Getting his pants off was a humiliating process as now that there was no adrenaline pumping through him, he found it hard to stand up.

He managed. Refusing to just lift his hips and shimmy out of them. His flop back down was less than graceful and hurt but he had a tiny bit of his dignity left.

Price found his emergency med kit, complete with a little bit of bourbon for Ghost to drink instead of pain meds. Ghost didn't like taking them, always worried he'd get addicted, and Price had learned a long time ago that there was no convincing him otherwise.

"Gonna be a good boy for me, right Simon?"

"Fuck off." Ghost growled, feeling a ripple of genuine nausea from the pain run through him. It felt like with every passing moment, it got worse rather than better.

And then aftershave and cigars filled his nose. Stubble pressed against his cheek even through the mask. "Hey, Simon. I got you. Alright?"

Ghost softened. "Yeah. You got me." He rubbed back quietly and his eyes closed.

The routine of stitching his wounds and bandaging him was not something Ghost stayed present for. He tried. Really. If he dissociated too long, Price would get concerned.

Before long, Price’s soft hands were patting his face. “All done.”

Simon pressed into his hands, eyes slowly opening. “John…”

The mask was lifted up and then set to the side. “Hello sunshine.”

He laughed softly and then tilted his head up to kiss John properly. His hands settled on his waist and then he pulled him down with him. They pressed against each other and it felt.. Nice.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Simon.”

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

Hi I LOVE luis and I LOVE Serennedy and I’m SO HAPPY you have asks on!!

Anyways I was laughing to myself this morning about Luis’s first words to Leon being in English. Ik it’s just for the benefit of the players of re4r BUT I like to think that he only had to take one look at blonde, thicc, gun-clad Leon and go “yeah that’s an American, better speak English” like logically that’s a Spanish man in his isolated Spanish village, so he had no other reason to NOT speak Spanish there!!! He clocked Leon so fast lolol.

That’s not really question but wanted to share my brainrot. So uhhh, read any good Serennedy fics lately?

TUMBLR DELETED MY EXTREMELY LOMG ANSWER TO THIS AND I AM S O MAD BUT YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG MASSIVE BRAIN I JUST H A D TO DRAW YOUR CONCEPT

((Also not to plug my own art or anything but my main is @wisecrackingeric-2 if you wanna see more stuff like that!!!!))

BUT OH MY GOD?? Y E S ?????????? HOW HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE HOLY CRAP Leon’s big bodacious behind and jokes aside I REALLY WISH we got to see more of Luis using Spanish in casual conversation!!!!!! Like clearly he’s both VERY fluent in English and Spanish and uses them both interchangeably but GOD I WISH WE GOT TO HEAR LIKE A FULL CONVERSATION BETWEEN HIM AND MENDEZ OR SOMETHING. Like that opening scene in seperate ways???? MUWAH. IT WAS SO COOL. ANYWAYS YOUR ACTUAL QUESTION YES I HAVE S O MANY FIC RECS I CAN GIVE YOU!!!!!

‘Nothing Fades Like The Light’ by @greasedcowboy is genuinely possibly my favourite fanfiction of all time. I’ve never had to go lay down on my bathroom floor because of a fic until this one HXNEHENDIX

‘Another Time’ by @hamartia-grander is S U C H AN INCREDIBLY WELL PACED time travel fic with the most GUT WRENCHING plot twists EVER’

‘I Carry All My Sins’ by @mooseonahunt I don’t. I don’t even wanna spoil this one. Just. Just read it totally blind

‘Loves For Show’ by @theprestigegirly Is S U C H a good fake-dating slowburn fic which is H I G H PRAISE coming from someone who usually isn’t a fan of the genre!!!!!!!! Seriously if you like beautiful wording and gorgeous depictions of raw human emotion this one’s for you!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘We’ll Be Alright’ by @ugetelynx IS SO GOOD. GOD ITS SO GOOD MAN. It’s a S U P E R unique AU and the way Lynx weaves the story and takes you along the path of these two slowly learning how to live a life with one another- MWUAH. LITERALLY SO GORGEOUS. Prepare to have your soul ripped out of your ribcage

‘Redemption Of The Guilty’ by Sylanna!!!!! Again another one where I’m like just!!!! Go read it!!!!!!!! I don’t wanna spoil it!!

‘Digital Man’ by @geddy-leesbian CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU (<- going insane pounding my fists on a wooden table)

‘Renovations’ by Gayhorrorboy IS SO CHARMING AND FULL OF GENUINE LOVE FOR THE SUBJECT AT HAND!!!!! I’ve been watching my friend work on this fic for MONTHS now and I can say with confidence it was made with so much love and care I can’t reccomend it enough!!!!

I W O U L D be tacky and add my own fics to this list but I haven’t stooped that low yet HANDHDNSJX if you’re curious though my AO3 handle is just WisecrackingEric!!!

[lightlycareless]

How strict is Naoya in his parenting style and how might that appear when he’s parenting the child he’s chosen to succeed him? I’m sure it’ll look different than how Naobito treated him but I also wonder if he’d have struggles falling into old patterns on occasion

Hello!

Another interesting ask 👀👀 One I haven't wondered to myself, always thinking that he'd be like, spoiling his kids rotten... but anyways!!!

If we’re talking about the version of Naoya that doesn’t care about anything else but himself, then yeah, he’s going to be super strict + detached. You cannot force him to care and will undoubtedly replicate the things he saw when growing up to his kid; his children are going to hate him, and I think… Naoya might hate them too.

However, we’re talking about a man that has you as his wife, whom he loves very much and has slowly begun to change for the better, learning that he too is deserving of happiness and capable of harboring such feeling, which he tries his best to extend over to his children 😊

It’s not easy, certainly not with someone as the Zen’in as relatives, but he does his best to raise them in an environment vastly different from his. And if there’s a silver lining to all this, is that he has such bad examples around him, that he knows what not to do lol.

The real issue here is when it comes to putting down boundaries, in other words, dealing with the consequences of their never-ending, unrestricted doting.

I mean, there was no way they knew it would be difficult, right? Everything had been nothing but smooth sailing when (for example’s sake) Naomi was a baby! She was just an adorable toddler, as well as their first child, so they had to give her all that she wanted, and more; besides, she was too young to know any better, and as first-time parents, you deserved to do this!

What could go wrong?

The two would soon find out the moment she begins to walk, talk, and, you know… everything else.

Because Naoya and you had spoiled/doted on her so much, she thinks that your warnings are, well, playful suggestions; and it becomes difficult to get her to understand that you two were being serious…

Leaving the two with no other option than to look into punishments.

I think this oneshot is the perfect example of what would happen when Naomi does get grounded, as well as everyone’s surprise from the fact the two actually kept their word and did it.

Because of her spoiled, and lenient upbringing, Naomi is exaggeratedly sorrowful. Straight up miserable which leads her to isolate herself from her parents, upset that they would “betray” her like this, which honestly makes Naoya and you feel like an absolute piece of shit, heavily debating whether to just save her from being grounded and move on!

However, you both decided against it after coming to the conclusion that this was, in the long term, for her good.

Yes, it definitely hurts to see her avoid the two, and yes, sometimes you’ll cut her “sentence” a bit shorter… but you always do your best to explain why she’s being grounded in the first place; one of the many things Naoya does differently from Naobito, and while it takes a while for her to get it, they eventually bear fruits.

Over all, the Zen’in clan is astonished that someone as Naoya was capable of raising such a well-mannered child (considering his upbringing and what seemed to be hers at that point.) but no one will deny that they’re relieved she’s not bound to be as crazy as her father was.

She’s still a child of course, so expect a lot of mischief here and there, but nothing too crazy—that’s for the youngest of your kids 🤭

Now, referring to the “old patterns” section… Yes. As any human, Naoya will undoubtedly fall into his old self from time to time, when it happens the first time though the reaction to it will be so, so painful to him, he’s actively going to avoid his children because he thinks of himself as a “danger to them.”

But that’s the beauty of families; you both have each other for support, so when he doubts himself, you’ll be there to lift him up and reassure him he’s a good father—and vice versa—by reminding him that it was not intentional, and him knowing such proves it all together.

These things don’t happen very often after years go by, if anything the two just become more lenient, when the rest of your kids bring it up, Naoya will quickly jump to deny it lol.

I believe the only places he’d be very strict though would be when naming his successor and training them to be sorcerers—but it’s all because he knows the dangers such responsibilities entail, and he wouldn’t want any of his children to be unprepared to face them.

So, the final conclusion is: while Naoya will be highly doting of his children, spoiling them with whatever they want whenever they want it, he’ll still manage (although very, very hardly, to his very best) to be strict when needed, but never borderline abusive—he’s at a point where he wants to give them only the best.

Doesn’t stop them from being mischievous little devils, but they’re all lovable, nonetheless.

Extra: he’d be a total soccer mom. The way he gets into it is kinda scary, but not unexpected, he is highly competitive after all…

Y’all sending me these asks have me very very happy, ngl. Thank you so much for indulging me, you literally how over the moon I am to know there’s people that like what I do :’)

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! I hope you have a wonderful weekend, take care and hope to see you soon!

[cipherdragon]

yeah so i got some isat theories

take note i’m only on arc three + i don’t plan to spoil anything for myself SO DONT TELL ME IF IM RIGHT OR WRONG PLEASE <3

i did accidentally check the isat tag on both here and ao3 so i got possible spoilers which influence the headcanons but whatever

if none of this is right feel free to make this an au bahahha

anyway this went from theories to just me rambling lmao

i’m sorry

loop and the king are probably a part of siffrin

“refer to me with the royal we” loop uses they them and jokingly(?) says to use “we”

king literally has sifs hair bruhhhh

“do you remember?” all three are not from vaugarde

the island north of vaugarde people don’t remember its existence. sif cannot recall where he’s from. HMMM…

reoccurring books sif cannot read. refer to island north of vaungard theory

sif uses he they and this may be a stretch but king uses he/him and loop uses they/them so sif took the pronouns in the divorce (not a literal divorce)

so i’m guessing siffrin, once you basically wear the poor guy down from looping 100+ times because you’re trying to make everyone happy, just GIVES UP and goes “yeah let’s freeze my friends in time THATS GONNA MAKE THEM HAPPY FOREEEEVER :D” but he’s too far gone to realize “wait wait wait no no that’s WRONG” (get this man some therapy istg)

also i think sif is aroace or at LEAST just ace. “yeahh i don’t like the idea of doing things with people in that way” in regards of mira saying she doesn’t want to fuck people during her quest-to-learn-what-is-upsetting-the-poor-girl

mirabell is cisgender aromantic asexual. one of the younger ones. doesn’t really give off any exact age but def 20smthn. they all are except for dile and bonbon.

isabeau is gay transgender (he says he “changed” and he doesn’t use his old name. mood lol) (i swear changing is just hrt but better) - prolly mid 20s

odile just doesn’t care what she identifies as (at least this is what it feels like) but i’m pretty sure she’s cis. she’s deffo in her fourties. or late thirties. gonna get wacked in the face with her book for sure.

bonnie is nonbinary (i don’t got much for the kid) prob 11 or 12

siffrin. oh siffrin. he’s a guy, but he could be nonbinary. he’s def ace to me, but in the “haha i make funny sex jokes while ace” way. maybe he feels romantic feelings. maybe he doesn’t. he doesn’t have time to figure that out. it would be funny if sif was 18 but nah sif’s likely 21-23 (idk the legal age for the world of isat. i GUESS it’s 20? or 21) (sif is an adult, that much is obvious.)

loop? loop doesn’t care. they’re whatever you think they are. they’ll laugh if they think your guess is funny, but honestly they just don’t care. “loop is gay” “loop’s a lesbian” “loops a genderqueer asshole who siffrin REALLY wants to punch in the face” loop’s everything and nothing woooo magic star glitter everywhere (sorry) (loop has no age cuz they’re a star)

sif’s not attracted to isa. isa is attracted to sif. poor siffrin hates how he can’t reciprocate isa’s feelings. he’s worried he’ll upset isa by telling him he doesn’t see isabeau that way. he keeps looping over and over to try to get isa to say he loves sif, sif tries to get the courage to say it back, despite it not being true.

and odile slowly figures out sif’s secret about the loops each loop, but they loop back before she can bring it up to sif.

aight i think that’s everything. i got over 30 hours in this game on my switch and i think some of that is a weird glitch because surely i haven’t been playing that much??? i think it managed to keep adding numbers even when my switch was off. hmmmm.

[tokkibbang00]

hii can you do a beomgyu x female reader where y/n and beomgyu come home from a party and gyu is super drunk and clingy and suggestive?

LOWKEY - C.BEOMGYU

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT. UNEDITED.

synopsis: Being at parties wasn't something new to the both of you, but bringing your friend back to your place drunk out of his ass was. You never drew a clear line between the both of you, so what stopped the both of you from fucking around with each other. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now, you aren't so sure anymore.

rating: nsfw

pairing: beomgyu x afab!reader

genre: fwb to ????, what the fuck are we?, college!au, kinda fluff & angst

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, mentions of sex, beomgyu is (kind of) a red flag, one-sided feelings oop— (but who knows ;>)

a/n: i'm so sorry this one took so long! i've been busy with writing anti-romantic's next chapter (curse writer's block) and some other stories. my college projects have been piling up too— i hope you enjoy this anon, and to anyone who is reading this 💙

word count: 1.9k

date posted: 05-10-23

You, Beomgyu, and parties. It's not really a new combination. In fact, this was a normal occurrence for the both of you. But, when you saw Beomgyu threatening to spill his guts out on Jeongin's front lawn earlier, it sobered you up.

You immediately had to call Yeonjun to help you carry the boy to your apartment. You'd send him back to his own place, but it was farther away from the party than yours.

You can feel a migraine creeping in as you walked through the corridors of your apartment before you reached your front door.

You held the door open as Yeonjun carried Beomgyu, the man's arm around his shoulders. A grunt left his mouth as he placed the drunk boy down on your couch.

“You owe me one.” Yeonjun said as you walked him back outside your apartment, you placed the car keys on his open hand.

You nodded at him, “I know, I know. Thanks for tonight Jun, I wouldn't be able to handle him by myself.”

“Anytime, Y/N—” He took a peek behind you to see Beomgyu slowly waking up, “I'd better get going. Good luck with him.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at him. A smirk was plastered on Yeonjun's face as he gave you a knowing look.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever— Take care on the drive back.” You said before the both of you said your goodbyes.

You shut the door behind you. A tired sigh came out of your lips as you looked at the man on your couch.

You and Beomgyu have a complicated relationship. It wasn't because you weren't friends or you weren't close. In reality, it was the opposite. You were actually closer to each other more than you'd like.

You met him through one of your friends during your freshman year in college. You became closer once you learned that both of you signed-up for the Photography Club during Student's Week.

You went to parties and bars alongside your friends almost every week. You've seen him hop from one-night stand to another, and it never really bothered you.

Everyone adored him.

Heads would turn towards his direction every time you walk in a room with him. He was attractive, you won't deny that. But, it never crossed that line until something happened between the both of you.

It was during one your MTs (Membership Training) for the Photography Club's new members. The both of you were in your sophomore year and were part of the head coordinators for the 3-day outing the club had planned.

After drinking with the new members, the coordinators went to their respective rooms; besides you and him.

These two of you decided that it was a good idea to continue drinking inside his room.

A bottle of beer and 2 bottles of soju in, you both were tipsy.

His arms were wrapped around your waist while your head rested on his chest. The both of you sat on the floor just by the foot of his bed where his back rested on. One of his hands laid on top of yours while the other was occupied with the shot glass.

You looked up at him and couldn't help but keep your eyes on him.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but that night felt different. Beomgyu didn't just look attractive to you.

He was beautiful.

The only light in the room was from the bedside lamp and the moon.

The moonlight favored him. The light shone upon him as shadows danced around his face. His eyes looked brighter than they usually were. His lips—

Oh god, his lips.

You can't help but imagine how it would mold perfectly against your own.

Before you could look away, Beomgyu looked back down at you. Your faces were centimeters apart from each other. You could feel his breath fanning your face, it was heavier. The hand that sat on top of yours squeezed your own.

Your heart seemed to beat faster as he placed down the shot glass, his free hand cupping your face.

“Y/N, I know this sounds fucking absurd but—”

He pulled your face closer to his, his nose nudging yours and your foreheads touching, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded. Before he could do anything, you pushed yourself towards him, crashing your lips against his.

Your clothing was long forgotten on the bedroom floor as both of you explored each other's bodies. He marked your skin as if you were his. Your nails clawed his back as you feel him inside you. If it wasn't his back, it was the sheets underneath you.

He loved the sound of your skins against each other.

He found pleasure on the sound of you, drinking in your moans as he got drunk in you.

That night changed the course of your friendship.

You thought that it would be a one-time thing for the both of you. But it happened again, and again, and again, and again. You don't know what possessed you to agree to this arrangement.

You knew it wouldn't end well.

It's been a year since then, and you know you are royally fucked.

The both of you would escape your friends and would share secret kisses behind the Photography Club's shelves; sometimes it would be around the empty classrooms inside the Arts & Music building.

The both of you used each other's bodies, calling each other up and going to each other's places just to feel each other, just to be in one another.

You didn't know what you guys were, there were no clear lines drawn.

You were fuck buddies, sure. But the secret kisses, holding hands, cuddling during your friend group's movie nights, and even soft touches underneath the table during the club meeting? You weren't so sure.

Your friends were also confused as to what you guys were, teasing the both of you whenever they had the chance to. The both of you denied it. You didn't know what Beomgyu thinks about it, but you know what you felt.

You knew you were falling. Hard.

It did sting a bit, seeing him deny everything. But in the first place, you agreed to this. You did try to confront him every time, but he avoided talking about feelings like it was a plague.

You can't blame anyone but yourself.

Only Yeonjun and Jeongin knew what you felt towards Beomgyu. They've warned you and watch you get hurt every time.

Whenever you see him flirt with other girls in parties or bars, you can't help but feel jealous now. Every time you try to move on from him, you would also encounter him in dating apps. You can't help but roll your eyes at how he seemed to be everywhere all at once.

Fate seems to love shoving him onto you.

You dried your face with a towel, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You decided to freshen up after placing a blanket on top of Beomgyu. You also placed a glass and a pitcher of water on the coffee table, just in case he woke up wanting water.

You changed into an oversized shirt (which was a shirt Beomgyu left before) and your pajama shorts before closing the lights of the bathroom and stepping out into the living room.

“Y/N?”

You glanced over the boy's direction. He was already sitting up, looking at you. He was obviously still drunk but he seemed to look better than earlier.

“Come here—” He pouted as he tried to stand up, walking towards you. He almost tripped but you caught him before he did.

“Gyu, you're still drunk.”

“I know. I'd still remember this tomorrow though.”

He giggled, his head buried on your neck as he nuzzled his nose on your skin. Goosebumps slowly trailed on your skin, you couldn't help but shudder.

“Sit down idiot, you're going to vomit.” You told him, trying to push him back to the couch.

He wiggled out your hold before rushing towards your bedroom, giggling like a kid. You ran after him and saw him flop down your clean sheets.

“Gyu— I swear to god— If you vomit on my bed, you can kiss your future children good bye.”

“I won't vomit, can you just come here and hug me?”

He gave you those eyes. Those, god darn, puppy eyes. You can't help but give in to him.

“Alright, let me just get you water and some clothes for you to change into.”

You did what you told him, placing water on the desk in your bedroom and helping him change into comfier clothes. You laid beside him on your bed, snuggling towards the pillows and blanket.

You felt an arm wrap around your waist, “Hey.”

You hummed in reply, placing your hand on top of his. You tried ignoring the fast beating of your heart. You hoped to God that he wouldn't feel or hear it.

He started peppering kisses on your nape, “You're so beautiful.”

“Gyu, you're drunk.”

“And you're still so beautiful.”

He turned you around facing him, one hand cupping your face and the other trailing down to your waist.

You ignore the heat creeping up on your cheeks and ears.

Your fingertips drew circles on his skin, “I can't believe you become clingy like this.”

He huffed, pouting playfully. “I'm only clingy because it's you.”

“You flatter me too much.”

He held you closer, one arm under your head and one around your waist. His head was placed on top of yours but you couldn't help but look up at him. He held onto you as if you were a child's teddy bear, not letting you go even just for a second.

The both of you stared at each other, not saying or muttering a word. Your legs were wrapped around one another as you feel the both of your faces inch closer. You felt his breath fanning your face, you noticed the smell of alcohol reeking from him and most importantly, someone else's perfume scented on him.

You closed your eyes, you can't do this.

“I think we should stop.”

His hold on you loosened. You opened your eyes and saw his confused expression.

What did you just say?

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You avoided his eyes, looking at the wall behind him. “I think we should stop fucking around, Gyu.”

Beomgyu didn't know how to feel. He thought this arrangement was okay. He knew that at some point that this would end, but he didn't realize it would end so soon. He enjoyed your company, he enjoyed your nights together.

What went wrong?

“Y/N, we can talk this through.”

“Talk about what? This is already as confusing as it is.”

He didn't utter a word. His heart felt like it was sinking and he didn't know why. He had never thought of you in that way, so why would he feel like this?

He knew that this is the most idiotic and stupid thing he can do after you told him to stop the arrangement, he crashed his lips into yours.

Your eyes widen in shock, but you couldn't help but melt into his touch. You closed your eyes, kissing him back, nipping softly on his bottom lip. His hand squeezed your waist as he pulled you closer to him while the other hand was creeping up to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it but never constricting it.

You opened your eyes to him smirking, “I thought you wanted to stop this?”

You glared at him, wrapping your hand around his wrist. “Just kiss me already.”

And there you are again, under him as both of you reveled on each other's bodies, appreciating and loving how he felt inside you. Thoughts of wanting to stop flew right out of the window as you succumbed to the pleasure he was giving you.

He loved this, he loved pleasuring you.

He didn't know why you wanted it to stop.

He didn't know why he didn't want this to stop.

Whatever the reasons were, what's important is that you were unraveling each and every spec of your being to him, and so did he to you.

You held on to the sheets and him as the night continued.

You hated the fact that he smelled like someone else, but who were you to say anything?

You were, still, just friends.

NOTE: Characters presented do not represent anyone mentioned in the story. This is a work of fiction and is not real.

[queerdiazs]

wip wednesday 💨

hi friends <3

zigzagging between hoa eddie and bad things happen fic because i have enough brain beans to share today it seems, so have a lil piece of eddie taking care of buck after buck's accident

And it’s helping, taking care of Buck. Kind of, at least, because it’s better to focus on tending to Buck’s needs than focusing on why Buck’s needs have to be tended, but on the third round of water, Buck kicks at his shins and raises a brow when Eddie hands over his attention.  “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, you know,” he says, haughty and kind. His eyes are so dark, like the deepest part of the ocean, but maybe it’s the lowlight in the living room. Yeah, it’s probably that. “I can take care of myself.”   “Can you?” “Absolutely. It’s mostly my collarbone, anyway.”  Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and levels Buck with a look. “If you say so,” he says, placatingly, because he learned when he was nineteen and Shannon was eighteen that sometimes it’s better to just agree than pick a fight. “But you’re here under my watch, so you might as well let me take care of you.”  “Oh?” Buck raises a brow, grinning boyishly. “Does that mean I’m yours?”  “Damn right it does.” Lightly, Eddie flicks Buck on the tip of the nose and chuckles when Buck’s eyes cross to follow his finger. “I know you’re fine, but please just do me a favor and let me take care of you for a little while. Okay? Can you do that?”  Buck blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and averts his gaze from Eddie’s. “Yeah,” he answers, quiet, and then reaches up with his good arm to grab the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Sit with me, though.” His toothy grin slips away, but he’s still smiling and that has to count for something. “Besides, your burger’s getting cold.”  “Buck—” “Eddie.” Buck pats the twelve inches of space next to him and smiles, small and crooked. “Eat and watch something with me, please.” 

tagged by @wildlife4life, @loserdiaz, @thewolvesof1998, and @theotherbuckley ♥️

tagging @spagheddiediaz, @puppyboybuckley, @jeeyuns, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @devirnis, @evanbegins, @monsterrae1, @actualalligator, @exhuastedpigeon, @daffi-990, and @honestlydarkprincess if any of you have anything to share!!!

[fp-am]

something to write?

hmm...

First time that Orange sees snow?

kind of short, but here’s a young Second discovering snow

heehee

-

(Third Person POV)

Circa, 2015

“We have another animation to make, Second.”

“Ok!”

It was around Christmas time of 2015. Second was still young and curious, being nurtured and cared for on Alan’s current computer. He’d never seen much of the outside world besides a few scenes and drawings of nature.

He always asked his friends about all the things he’d yet to learn. So far, he loved every drop of information he has consumed.

Today was another busy day. A simple background animation commission for Christmas time. Second was still new to the whole Christmas thing, but was excited to learn more.

Second started drawing pine trees and sketching a landscape, giving it a cool night sky with stars. He glanced over at Alan. To his confusion, he was drawing some white marks on the perfect trees and grass that he had just drawn.

“Alan, what are you doing?”

“wdym?”

“Why are you putting white marks on the background?”

“do you not know about snow?”

“..snow?”

“it’s something that comes around during the winter. when it gets too cold, the rain drops in the clouds freeze up and turn into little shards of ice. that’s what we call snow. once the snow falls, it bunches up and stays on the ground due to the cold weather.”

“Ohh.. it’s like ice.. but smaller?”

“kind of. Why don’t you touch it?”

Second curiously looked at the snow Alan drew. Leaping over, he stuck a hand in. He pulled it out almost immediately.

“Ah! Cold!”

“pft. well of course it’s cold. but its fun to play around with. watch.”

With a smile, Alan drew some more snow, then used his mouse to roll it up into a few balls. Placing them on top of eachother, he drew some accessories for the snowman.

“Woah!”

“see? here, try.”

Drawing some accessories, Alan handed them to Second and backed up.

Scooping up some, Second started building his own snowman. But, every single time, the snow crumbled. He started to get angry, but eventually, he figured it out. Carefully, he stuck on the accessories.

“There! It’s not.. uh.. good but.. I did it.”

“I think it looks great.”

“You’re just saying that..”

“no. It’s really great, Sec.”

“But yours is way better.”

“It’s only ‘better’ because I used a mouse. I didn’t put any effort into it. yours has heart put into it.”

That made Second smile a little.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Well..”

..Second jumped directly into his own snowman, letting it crumble and go down.

“?????”

“Haha! Sorry, I couldn’t help myself! I like how soft it is.. I could take a nap in it.”

“why are you always so sleepy”

“I don’t know, but I feel like if I closed my eyes right here, I could just sleep.”

“wouldn’t it be too cold?”

“I don’t think so..” Second yawned, snuggling into the cold, soft lump of snow that used to be a snowman. “Mmmh.. I actually think it’s just right.”

Slowly, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.

…

It was hours later when Second awoke.

“Mmmph..? Huh?”

“oh, you’re up”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yep”

“Oh.. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I finished it anyway.”

Second looked around. With all the shading and the snowflakes falling from the sky, it was beautiful.

“Wow..”

“what is it?”

“It’s so pretty..”

“hm. I guess you’re right.”

Suddenly, Second sneezed and sniffled.

“Ah.. what was that?”

“It looks like your sick from sleeping in the snow. you might have a cold.”

“Like.. a sickness?”

“Mhm. cmon. let’s get you in bed so you can get to feeling better..”

“Ok.”

Second left with a smile that night.

Snow. What a curious thing.