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[fashionlandscapeblog]

Bling Bling Chair by Pietro Franceschini, Gabrielle Sandstone Side Table by Hermine Bourdin, and Hot Wire Extensions Lamp.

[hayatheauthor]

The Arsonists’ Handbook: A Writer’s Guide To Igniting Fire

This comprehensive guide is crafted to assist writers in creating realistic and gripping depictions of arson scenes. We'll explore the psychological motivations behind arson, the different types of fires, and the intricate dynamics of how a fire spreads.

I personally wrote this blog due to a story I’m working on involving the Salem trials fires, thus the extensive research. I hope this comprehensive guide will help you out with your fiery (written) endeavours! (Heavy on the written). 

Understanding Fire: The Basics

How Fire Starts

At its core, fire is a chemical reaction known as combustion. For fire to ignite, three key elements must be present: heat, fuel, and oxygen. This trio is often referred to as the fire triangle. Removing any one of these elements will prevent or extinguish the fire.

Heat: The energy source that raises the temperature of the material (fuel) to its ignition point. Heat can come from various sources, such as an open flame, electrical sparks, friction, or chemical reactions.

Fuel: Any combustible material that can feed the fire. This can range from solid objects like wood and paper to liquids like gasoline and alcohol, and even gases like propane and natural gas.

Oxygen: Fire needs oxygen to sustain itself. Typically, the air around us provides the necessary oxygen, but in certain conditions (like in an oxygen-rich environment), fire can become significantly more intense and harder to control.

Fire Behavior

Once a fire ignites, its behavior is influenced by several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the environment. Understanding how fire behaves is crucial for writing realistic scenes, especially when it comes to describing how quickly a fire spreads and the destruction it causes.

Spread of Fire

Fire spreads through three main methods: conduction, convection, and radiation. Conduction is the transfer of heat through materials, like when a fire heats up a metal door. Convection occurs when hot air rises and circulates, spreading the fire. Radiation is the heat that spreads through the air, setting nearby objects alight without direct contact.

Stages of a Fire

A fire typically goes through four stages: ignition, growth, fully developed, and decay.

Ignition: This is the beginning stage where the fire starts. It’s often small and contained, but the potential for growth is high.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. During this stage, the fire spreads rapidly, and the heat increases, potentially igniting nearby objects.

Fully Developed: The fire has reached its peak intensity. All available fuel is burning, and the temperature is at its highest. This is the most dangerous stage, where the fire is hardest to control.

Decay: As the fire runs out of fuel or oxygen, it begins to die down. The flames reduce in size, and the temperature starts to drop. However, if there’s still some fuel or oxygen left, the fire can reignite.

Types of Fire

Not all fires are created equal, and understanding the differences between various types of fires can help you write more accurate scenes. The type of fire often determines how it spreads, how it's fought, and the damage it causes.

Class A (Ordinary Combustibles): These fires involve materials like wood, paper, cloth, and some plastics. They are the most common type of fire and are usually extinguished with water or foam.

Class B (Flammable Liquids): These fires involve flammable or combustible liquids such as gasoline, oil, and alcohol. They are more dangerous than Class A fires and are typically extinguished with foam, carbon dioxide, or dry chemical agents.

Class C (Electrical Fires): These fires involve electrical equipment, such as wiring, circuit breakers, and appliances. Water should never be used to extinguish a Class C fire because it can conduct electricity, making the situation worse. These fires are typically fought with non-conductive agents like dry chemicals or carbon dioxide.

Class D (Combustible Metals): These fires involve metals like magnesium, titanium, and sodium. They are very dangerous and are fought with specialized agents like dry powder designed to absorb heat and smother the fire.

Class K (Kitchen Fires): These fires involve cooking oils and fats, often occurring in kitchens. They are fought with wet chemical agents that cool the fire and create a barrier between the fuel and the oxygen.

The Stages of Arson

Arson, the act of deliberately setting fire to property, is a complex crime that involves planning, execution, and, often, a great deal of psychological motivation. Understanding the stages of arson can help you create more realistic and engaging scenes in your writing.

Planning and Preparation

Before an arsonist sets a fire, they usually go through a detailed planning and preparation phase. This stage involves selecting a target, gathering materials, and determining the best time and method to set the fire.

Motive: The reasons behind arson can vary widely. Common motives include revenge, financial gain (such as insurance fraud), psychological compulsion (pyromania), or even a desire to destroy evidence of another crime.

Target Selection: The arsonist will choose their target based on various factors, including the accessibility of the location, the presence of flammable materials, and the likelihood of the fire being discovered quickly. For example, an arsonist might target an abandoned building, a business with financial troubles, or a residence where they hold a grudge against the occupants.

Materials Gathering: The arsonist needs to gather materials to start the fire. This might include accelerants like gasoline or kerosene, tools to break into the target location, and possibly even timing devices to delay the ignition. Some arsonists use household items like matches, lighters, or candles, while others might resort to more sophisticated methods.

Timing: Timing is crucial for arson. The arsonist might choose a time when the target location is unoccupied to avoid detection or ensure maximum damage. Alternatively, they might set the fire at a time when the building is full of people to cause harm or send a message.

Ignition

The ignition stage is when the arsonist actually starts the fire. This is often the most critical and dangerous part of the crime, as it requires the arsonist to be physically present at the scene.

Methods: There are various methods an arsonist might use to start a fire. The simplest method is using a match or lighter to ignite flammable materials. However, more sophisticated arsonists might use chemical accelerants, timing devices, or even electrical equipment to start the fire remotely. In some cases, the arsonist might create a trail of flammable liquid leading to the target, allowing them to ignite the fire from a safe distance.

Initial Signs: The first signs of a fire are usually small flames and smoke. Depending on the materials used, the smoke might be thick and black (indicating the presence of accelerants) or lighter and less noticeable. The smell of burning materials is also a telltale sign, and in some cases, the arsonist might use scented materials to mask the odor of burning chemicals.

Fire’s Progression

Once the fire is ignited, it begins to grow and spread. The speed and intensity of the fire depend on several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the structure of the building.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. Flames spread to nearby objects, igniting anything that can burn. The heat generated by the fire causes nearby materials to reach their ignition points, further fueling the blaze. In a well-ventilated area, the fire can spread rapidly, engulfing the entire structure in minutes.

Environmental Effects: The fire’s heat can cause significant damage to the surrounding environment. Smoke and toxic fumes fill the air, making it difficult to breathe and see. The intense heat can cause glass to shatter, metal to warp, and wood to burst into flames. The fire might also create a backdraft, a dangerous phenomenon where a sudden influx of oxygen causes an explosion of flames.

Aftermath

After the fire has been extinguished, the aftermath reveals the full extent of the damage. This stage involves assessing the destruction, investigating the cause of the fire, and dealing with the legal and emotional consequences.

Destruction: The fire leaves behind a trail of destruction. Buildings are reduced to charred skeletons, possessions are destroyed, and in some cases, lives are lost. The damage caused by fire can be catastrophic, leaving victims homeless, businesses bankrupt, and communities devastated.

Investigation: Arson is a criminal act, and a thorough investigation is usually conducted to determine the cause of the fire and identify the perpetrator. Fire investigators look for clues like burn patterns, residue from

The Psychological Profile of an Arsonist

Arsonists come from diverse backgrounds, but their motivations often stem from deep psychological issues. Understanding the mind of an arsonist can help you create more complex and nuanced characters in your writing.

Common Motivations

Revenge: Many arsonists are motivated by a desire for revenge. They might set a fire to get back at someone who wronged them, such as a former employer, an ex-partner, or a rival. This type of arson is often impulsive, driven by anger and a need to assert control.

Financial Gain: Arson is sometimes committed for financial reasons, such as insurance fraud. The arsonist may set fire to their own property or hire someone to do it, intending to collect insurance money. This type of arson is usually well-planned and methodical.

Psychological Compulsion (Pyromania): Some arsonists are driven by a psychological disorder known as pyromania, where they experience an uncontrollable urge to start fires. For these individuals, the act of setting a fire provides a sense of excitement, satisfaction, or relief. Pyromaniacs often set multiple fires and may stay to watch the fire burn.

Attention-Seeking: Arsonists may set fires to attract attention, either to themselves or to a cause they believe in. This can be seen in cases where someone sets a fire to highlight an issue, make a political statement, or simply because they crave the spotlight.

Thrill-Seeking: For some, the act of arson is about the thrill of taking risks and the adrenaline rush that comes with causing destruction. These arsonists might not have any particular grievance or financial motive but are instead driven by a desire for excitement.

Psychological Traits

While not all arsonists fit a single profile, there are common psychological traits that many share:

Lack of Empathy: Arsonists often exhibit a lack of empathy, unable to fully grasp or care about the consequences of their actions on others. They may not consider the potential loss of life or property and are more focused on their own desires and needs.

Impulsivity: Some arsonists act on impulse, setting fires without fully considering the long-term effects. This impulsivity can be linked to other behavioral issues, such as a history of aggression, substance abuse, or other criminal activity.

Desire for Control: Arson can be a way for individuals to exert control over a situation or person. The fire represents a powerful force that the arsonist can manipulate, giving them a sense of power and dominance.

Isolation: Many arsonists are socially isolated, struggling to form meaningful relationships. This isolation can fuel their desire for attention or revenge, leading them to commit acts of arson as a way of asserting themselves.

Physical Signs and Symptoms of Arson

When it comes to describing a fire in your writing, the physical signs and symptoms of arson can add a layer of authenticity and vivid detail to your scenes. Understanding these signs not only enhances the realism of your narrative but also helps to convey the severity and impact of the fire.

Visual Cues

One of the most striking aspects of a fire is its visual presentation. The flames, smoke, and other visual cues can vary greatly depending on the type of fire, the materials involved, and the environment.

Flames, Colors, and Intensity of the Fire: Flames can vary in color depending on the materials burning and the temperature of the fire. For instance, a fire fueled by organic materials like wood or paper typically burns with orange or yellow flames. In contrast, fires involving chemicals or metals might produce blue, green, or even white flames. The intensity of the flames can also signal the fire’s progression, with small, flickering flames indicating the early stages and roaring, high flames signifying a fully developed fire.

Smoke Characteristics: Smoke is another key visual indicator of a fire’s behavior. The color, thickness, and smell of smoke can provide clues about the type of materials burning and the presence of accelerants. Black, thick smoke often suggests that the fire is consuming synthetic materials like plastics or rubber, while white or gray smoke might indicate burning wood or paper. The smell of the smoke can also vary, with a sharp, acrid odor suggesting the presence of chemicals.

Heat Effects

Heat is one of the most destructive elements of a fire, and it can have profound effects on objects, structures, and people. Describing these effects can make your arson scenes more visceral and impactful.

Effects on Objects and Structures: The intense heat generated by a fire can cause a wide range of damage. Wood and other combustible materials might blister and char, while metals can warp or melt. Glass windows might crack or shatter due to the rapid temperature change. The heat can also cause scorch marks on walls and floors, which are often key indicators in an arson investigation. Understanding these effects allows you to describe the aftermath of a fire with greater accuracy.

Scorch Marks, Blistering, and Charring: Scorch marks are darkened areas that indicate where flames or intense heat have come into contact with a surface. Blistering occurs when the heat causes materials to bubble and expand, often seen on painted or varnished surfaces. Charring is the blackening and partial burning of materials, typically seen on wood. These signs can be crucial in determining the origin of the fire and whether an accelerant was used.

Human Reactions

The physical and emotional responses of individuals during a fire are critical elements in conveying the terror and urgency of an arson scene.

Physical Responses to Heat and Smoke: The human body reacts dramatically to the extreme conditions of a fire. Heat can cause burns, ranging from superficial first-degree burns to more severe third-degree burns that destroy deeper layers of skin. Smoke inhalation is a common and often deadly consequence of being trapped in a fire. It can cause coughing, choking, and disorientation as the smoke deprives the body of oxygen and fills the lungs with toxic gases. Victims might experience blurred vision, dizziness, and confusion, making it difficult for them to escape.

Emotional Responses to Fire: The emotional toll of being caught in a fire can be overwhelming. Panic is a common reaction, as the instinct to flee overwhelms rational thought. Fear and anxiety can paralyze individuals, making them unable to act. However, some characters might respond with determination and resolve, driven by the need to save themselves or others. Describing these emotional responses can add depth to your characters and heighten the drama of the scene.

For a more detailed guide on burns, read how to write burns. 

Common Misconceptions About Arson

When writing about arson, it’s important to address common misconceptions that can lead to unrealistic or inaccurate scenes. Debunking these myths can help you create more credible and compelling narratives.

Fire Spreads Quickly

A common misconception is that fire spreads almost instantaneously. While fire can indeed spread rapidly, especially under the right conditions, there is often a progression that can be influenced by various factors such as the type of fuel, the presence of accelerants, and the structure of the building. In reality, a fire might start small and take several minutes to fully engulf a room, especially if there’s limited ventilation or the materials are slow to ignite. This progression allows for moments of tension and potential escape in your narrative.

All Fires Look the Same

Another myth is that all fires behave similarly, regardless of the environment or the materials involved. In truth, the appearance and behavior of a fire can vary widely. For example, a fire in a well-ventilated area with plenty of fuel will look very different from a smoldering fire in an oxygen-deprived environment. Additionally, fires involving different types of materials—like wood, gasoline, or chemicals—can produce vastly different flames, smoke, and heat. Recognizing these differences can help you craft more nuanced and realistic fire scenes.

Fire and Explosions

Thanks to Hollywood, many people believe that fires often result in dramatic explosions. However, explosions are relatively rare in most fires and usually require specific conditions, such as the presence of flammable gases or liquids in confined spaces. While a fire can cause small, localized bursts (like when a pressurized canister overheats and ruptures), full-scale explosions are uncommon. Incorporating this knowledge can prevent your scenes from falling into the trap of over-the-top sensationalism.

Easy to Identify an Arsonist

The idea that arsonists are easily identifiable or leave obvious clues behind is another misconception. In reality, arson investigation is a complex and challenging process. Arsonists often go to great lengths to cover their tracks, using methods that leave little evidence. The fire itself can destroy crucial evidence, making it difficult to determine the cause and origin. Investigators must rely on subtle clues, like burn patterns, residue from accelerants, and witness statements. Writing realistic arson investigations involves understanding the nuances and difficulties involved in linking the crime to a specific individual.

Real-Life Case Studies

Exploring real-life arson cases can provide valuable insights into the motives, methods, and consequences of arson, helping you to create more authentic scenes in your writing.

Notorious Arson Cases

The Boston Fire (1919): This fire, started by disgruntled city workers, caused extensive damage and highlighted how social unrest can lead to destructive acts of arson. The arsonists used a combination of accelerants and timing devices to ensure the fire spread quickly and was difficult to control.

The Happy Land Fire (1990): A tragic case where an arsonist set fire to a social club in New York, resulting in 87 deaths. The fire was started with gasoline, and the arsonist’s motive was personal revenge after an altercation with a club employee. This case illustrates the deadly potential of arson when combined with crowded, enclosed spaces.

The Oakland Hills Firestorm (1991): Although not initially an arson case, this firestorm was exacerbated by arsonists who set additional fires in the area. The fire destroyed thousands of homes and underscored the difficulty of controlling fires in densely populated areas with dry, windy conditions.

Lessons for Writers

Real-life cases like these offer important lessons for writers. They demonstrate the variety of motives behind arson, the different methods used, and the devastating impact that fire can have on individuals and communities. Incorporating these lessons into your writing can help you create more complex and realistic arson scenes.

Complex Motives: Arson isn’t always about destruction for its own sake. It can be motivated by revenge, financial gain, political statements, or psychological issues. Exploring these motives can add depth to your characters and their actions.

Diverse Methods: Arsonists don’t always rely on the same techniques. Understanding the different methods used to start fires allows you to vary your scenes and avoid repetitive or predictable narratives.

Realistic Consequences: The aftermath of arson can be devastating, with long-lasting consequences for the

Arson in Literature and Film

Arson is a powerful narrative device in literature and film, often used to create tension, drive plot, or explore character motivations. Understanding how arson has been portrayed in these mediums can help you craft more compelling and nuanced fire scenes in your writing.

Arson as a Plot Device

Arson is often used as a plot device to introduce conflict, create suspense, or catalyze a story’s events. It can serve as a turning point in the narrative, forcing characters to confront their past, make difficult decisions, or reveal their true nature.

Catalyst for Change: In many stories, a fire is the catalyst that sets the plot in motion. The destruction caused by the fire forces characters to adapt, overcome obstacles, or seek revenge.

Revealing Character: Arson can also be used to reveal a character’s true nature. A character who commits arson may be driven by anger, greed, or desperation, and their actions can expose underlying flaws or hidden motivations.

Symbolism: Fire is often used symbolically in literature and film, representing concepts like purification, destruction, or rebirth. The act of setting a fire can be a symbolic gesture, reflecting the character’s desire to destroy the past, cleanse themselves of guilt, or start anew.

Notable Examples in Literature and Film

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë: In this classic novel, the character of Bertha Mason sets fire to Thornfield Hall, an act that is both literal and symbolic. The fire represents Bertha's madness and desperation, as well as the destructive secrets hidden within the estate. The blaze ultimately leads to the revelation of Mr. Rochester's past and serves as a turning point in Jane Eyre's journey, symbolizing the destruction of the old and the possibility of a new beginning.

"Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury: In Bradbury’s dystopian novel, fire is used as a tool of oppression. Firemen are tasked with burning books, a symbol of knowledge and freedom, to maintain societal control. The protagonist, Guy Montag, initially takes part in these acts of arson, but as the story progresses, he becomes disillusioned and eventually rebels against the system. The novel explores themes of censorship, conformity, and the power of knowledge, with fire serving as both a destructive and a purifying force.

"Carrie" by Stephen King: In King’s horror novel, fire is a key element of the climactic scene where Carrie White, after being humiliated at her high school prom, uses her telekinetic powers to set fire to the gymnasium. The fire is a manifestation of her rage and desire for revenge, and it leads to the destruction of her school and the deaths of many of her tormentors. The scene is a powerful example of how fire can be used to convey intense emotions and serve as a metaphor for uncontrollable anger and retribution.

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier: The burning of Manderley, the grand estate that serves as the novel’s primary setting, is a pivotal moment in du Maurier’s gothic tale. The fire, set by the vengeful housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, symbolizes the destruction of the past and the erasure of Rebecca’s lingering influence over the characters. It also represents the liberation of the protagonist from the oppressive shadow of her predecessor, allowing her to finally step out of Rebecca’s shadow.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[melancholymetropolis]

Big Ole Freak

plot: A curious archivist accidentally summons Ryomen Sukuna

pairings: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

genre(s): MONSTERFUCKING; Shameless Smut

warnings: unedited (mostly). canon divergence. d/s role. FEMDOM Y/N. bratty sub Sukuna. breathplay. choking (m receiving). reader is shy at first but kinda bossy towards the end. fight for dominance lowkey. PIV SEX. sukuna had four arms and used all of them. TEASING. fingering. creaming. possessive sukuna. feral reader. lowkey pining. talks out love. overthinker reader. pet names (kuna, pet, baby, monster, etc.) dirty talk. oral (f receiving). praising. multiple positions. rounds and rounds and rounds.

w.c: 8.2k

a/n: if I told you that almost 5.5k is smut would you believe me?

“Testing,” I said into the tape recorder. “One, two.”

I played the audio back and grimaced at the sound of my own voice. After years of extensive research, one could only hope to move past that insecurity. I deleted the recording and placed the device on the table. I dimmed the lights within the small community library and opted to turn on a few electric candles. I adjusted my wire-rim glasses and pulled my mini-twists into a ponytail. Once satisfied with the set-up, I slipped on white cotton gloves and pressed play on the recording.

“Good Evening, listener,” I said politely into the device. “My name is Dr. Y/N L/N, senior archivist at Jujutsu Library here in Japan. I hope you are doing well.”

I proceeded to place a heavy box on the table and continued to talk. “I am using this recording to document the initial opening of the Ryomen Grimoire. It was reported to be a book of spells for a powerful emperor named Sukuna, all the way back in the Nara period of Japan. For reference, that would be somewhere in the 1100s.” I cleared my throat the remark and placed two hands on the lid. “There is not that much history on the empire, as his life is riddled with mystery. There are far too many conflicting reports about who Sukuna was and how he came to be one of the most ruthless rulers of all time. Some say it was due to him being orphaned at a very young age. Others say it was his father's abuse of him. Then, there is a tale of lost love. Apparently, a woman he was dating had cheated on him and fallen pregnant with another man’s baby.” 

I cleared my throat again and started to rub it gently. There was a subtle tightness around the area that caused irritation to my whole being. But, that hadn’t been the only thing. I could feel chills slowly drifting down my spine and goosebumps began to rise on my arms. The sensation was odd on many accounts. The first being that I was in the basement of the library. It was notoriously known for being without an air conditioner. I had spent many days, drenched in sweat, archiving old materials. There had been a crappy fan stationed here, but its winds were too powerful for such delicate papers. The second odd thing about the room was that I hadn’t been particularly cold, nor scared to obtain said goosebumps. I was not trembling with fear or on the brink of freezing to death. My body was utterly calm and my mind totally clear. My temperature was neutral; I wasn’t hot or cold. Reading grimoires and looking at so-called “haunted” materials was a typical Sunday for me. It wasn’t something that brought me joy or excitement, it was just my job.

“As you possibly tell by my brief description, the stories conflict quite a bit,” I continued on. “One cannot be an orphan with a father or vice versa. In all truth, researchers are all confused as to who he truly is. They are trying to figure out what kind of man he was and how he impacted Japan’s history. This is why the discovery of his grimoire was massive and brought in a lot of attention. Scientists from all over the world are flying in to witness its contents. But, lucky for us, Jujustu Library is the first one to get their hands on it.”

I undid the metal latches on the side and began to raise the lid. A retched stench tore through the air upon opening it. My body shivered with disgust and I felt myself gag a little. 

“Note to self,” I said to the recorder. “Please restock facemasks as soon as possible.”

I’d simply cut that part out later. 

I tucked my nose in my shirt and inhaled deeply. “I will now take the grimoire out of the box.”

The book was approximately twelve inches wide and fourteen inches thick. When I had dropped my hands in the box and grasped the edges, I could tell by the weight that it was about eight hundred pages long. It was a remarkable five to six inches thick, with a leather buckle holding it shut.  I placed the heavy object on the table with a gentle “thud and proceeded to unlatch the leather binding. Small flecks of dust seeped from the pages as the pressure was released from the latch. They painted the white table a subtle rusty brown color.

“It seems to me that the book has been stored in some kind of volcanic environment,” I observed, adjusting my glasses. “The dust particles have a reddish tint to them. This insinuates that the box must've been buried in iron-rich soil. This kind of dirt can be found near recently erupted volcanoes. Magma has high levels of magnetite phenocrysts, which hardens over time and creates magnetite iron.” I looked closely at the lid of the crate and hummed. “This theory is justified by the imperfections on the outside of the crate. There a subtle singe marks on the lib of the box and on the left side. This is interesting, to say the least.” I cleared my throat. “I will now peel back the cover of the book.”

True to my word, I took the cover of the grimoire in my hands gently and peeled it back to reveal the cover page. 

“There is a scripture written on the first page,” I said, bringing my face closer to the brown pages. “It’s quite, faded, but I will do my best to read it aloud.”

As definite as the sun

And consistent as the moon

The power of Ryomen Sukuna will possess us all.

The King of Curses is a God to Many

Ruler of all things dark and cruel

Father to the monster of the below.

He feasts on the innocent 

Lusts for the wicked 

And craves all things violent. 

“The last part is a little hard to read. There seems to be a substance covering the last stanza,” I mumbled, a little frustrated at the notion. I sighed deeply and adjusted my position at the table. I walked over to the far edge and dug into my tool bag. I pulled out a magnifying glass and a flashlight. I brought the touch a safe distance away from the book and clicked it on. With the magnifying glass directly behind it, I was able to decipher the words rather quickly. 

With the moon at a crescent 

And a lady nearby

Ryomen will come alive

She will call out to him

Bring him back to the land of living

And he will conquer it all once again

Suddenly, the light above the table began to flicker and buzz. The moment I raised my head to look at it, the light clicked off.  The room was shrouded in darkness, aside from the little flashlight in my hand. I used the little beam to direct myself to the room’s exit. I gripped the handle of the door and gave it a fierce turn, but it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck. With all my strength, I pulled and pushed at the heavy metal door. I tried my best to remain calm. I knew better than to let panic consume my body and make me behave irrationally. This wasn’t the first time creepy things happened when I conducted research on a haunted object. There were instances where the object flew across the room whenever I came near it. Other times, random scratches appeared on my body. I have had my fair share of weird things happening to me in the presence of cursed objects. But, locking me in the room with it was a new one. The entity attached to the artifact would much rather have me far away from it, not in the same vicinity as me. 

A warm gust of wind brushed against my back, making my body tense. I could hear the familiar crackle of fire in the distance as a purple-ish light filled the room. I turned my body slowly toward the table. My eyes widened at the sight. A flock of magenta flames had covered the surface of the black table, while black smoke filled the space around it. Within the fire, a deep, menacing laugh appeared. It filled the room instantly and brought shivers down my spine. My legs buckled and eventually gave out as I watched the scene unfold before me. My back slid against the metal door and my rear ended up on the floor. Gradually, a figure started to appear in the flames. 

There was a head covered in unruly, spiky hair; which led to a thick neck and shoulders. A set of arms started to materialize, followed by another. 

“Dear God. . .” The realization of what was happening had sank in.

That was Ryomen Sukuna.

I had summoned Ryomen Sukuna without meaning to.

I was utterly fucked.

The last part of the body to materialize was the eyes. There were four of them. The first set had sat normally on the face, while the other appeared beneath the. The bright red pupils seemed to glow in the heart of the flames and they seemed to be staring directly at me. A wide, sinister smile slowly formed on the King’s face, followed by a seductive lick across his pointed teeth. The laugh continued to echo throughout the room and it was the thing of nightmares. Something in my being had told me I would not survive the end of the night— that the King of Curses would slaughter me the moment he had the chance. He was not known for being kind, so I knew pleading would do nothing to help me. I would just have to accept my fate, which sucked in more ways than one. 

I would never be able to do all the things I always wanted to do.

Like traveling across the world, or sleeping in the Palace of Versailles. I wanted nothing more than to feel like a Queen, even if it were just for a day.

I would never learn how to be a sculptor. I had imagined my work being in museums all over Europe and people calling me the next Divinici. 

I would never tell Robert from Accounting how I felt about him. Granted the crush was still fresh and I had just realized my feelings a week ago. But, I was never one to act on those kinds of things. I knew that wanting love would lead to heartache and pain. My dating track record had been nothing short of a horror movie and I never truly had a partner like ever. Which was completely pathetic, since I was swiftly approaching thirty and never even. . .

The clearing of a throat snapped me from my head. I raised my vision back to the table and gulped slowly. The magenta flames had dissipated and the black smoke had cleared. Leaning on the edge was a man— a term I use very loosely. He was massive, probably standing somewhere between eight and nine feet tall. The thick, black-lined tattoos decorated his pale skin. They made him look even scarier. He was shirtless, and his broad chest had a dull sheen to it. He wore a pair of purple, wide-legged pants and traditional Japanese sandals. Even with their loose design, I can almost spot his muscular legs beneath them. Along with a semi-noticeable bulge in the crotch area. 

A fierce blush flared up on my face and I quickly looked away.

“So that is why you summoned me?” He teased, crossing both sets of arms across his chest. “The little lamb wanted to get fucked by a real man?”

The voice was deep and unnatural. It sent shivers through my body. The tingles weren’t from fear, however. They were from something else. Something a little more carnal than that. 

I slowly raised my body from the floor and pressed my back to the metal door once more. “Well, if we are being quite honest,” I said, clearing my throat. “You are not a man and haven’t been one for a long time. A very long time.”

“Oh?” He smirked, leaning forward just a little bit. “So, you summoned me to get fucked by a monster? Is that it?”

“That’s not it, at all,” I interjected, calmly. “It was not my intention to summon you at all. I was simply submitting your grimoire to our archives. I must have done it by accident, somehow.”

He hummed, unamused. 

 Sukuna’s four eyes were trained on me. He took in my long passion twists and how they were pulled back into a high ponytail. They traveled down my face, taking in my cocoa skin and plump lips. He held his gaze on my mouth for what seemed like an entirety before moving down to my neck and ample bosoms. He sped right past those and my midsection, before zeroing in on my legs. I had been wearing a skirt that fell just above my knees, so the chubby limbs had been on display. The four pupils seemed to be glued to the pale panty-hose covering the thick thighs beneath them. They seemed to be calculating something. Maybe he was determining just how flexible I was or pondering how a woman could be that tall. 

Whatever he was thinking about had swiftly left his mind the moment I cleared my throat.

The eyes snapped back up to me and a wicked grin formed on his face.

“There’s something. . . different about you,” he said, suddenly. “Something. . . off.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, adjusting my glasses.

“Well, if we’re being honest,” he mocked, completely mimicking my statement for moments before. “It is not easy to summon anything, especially a demon. Even a lower-ranking demon would require some kind of preparation before his expected arrival.” The hulking monster took a small step toward me, the smile growing wider. “And as you know, little researcher, I am not an easy demon to summon. It takes a really strong mage to summon me at all, let alone by accident.”

In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of me. His face was inches away from mine and his upper arms rested above my head. One of the hands from the lower arms had taken hold of my chin softly and tilted it upward. It forced me to look him in the eye. The smile on his face was devilish, but not at all sinister. Sukuna didn’t necessarily want to scare me it seemed. His other intention? I had no fucking idea. 

“I cannot smell fear on you, little human,” he growled. “Not one ounce. But do you know what I do smell?”

He waited. 

He wanted me to respond to his question.

“What?”

“Curiosity.” He let the word roll from his tongue like it was something precious.

“Well, of course,” I scoffed. “I am an archivist. It is my job to be curious.”

“No no no,” the monster shook his head. “That’s not it.” He brought his face closer until our noses were an inch apart. “You are curious about what I can do for you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, wiggling my chin from his grasp. 

Sukuna moved his back and dropped his smile to a smirk. His upper arms were still above my head, while his lower ones were caging my body. “I can smell you, sweetheart.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “Smell what?”

“Your arousal,” he answered. “And it smells so, very sweet.”

My bottom lip fell between my teeth as felt the blush slowly rise up my cheeks.

His chuckle was deep and raw— and it made my panties even wetter than before. His eyes scanned over my body once again, revisiting the old territory. By the twitching bulge in his pants, I could tell the feeling was mutual. I could feel the heat radiating between our bodies and we haven’t necessarily touched yet. Mine was screaming and begging for my mind to take the opportunity. Finding Sukuna’s grimoire had taken up almost all of my spare time; making it even harder to seek fulfillment in other avenues. I didn’t know when was the last time I entangled my limbs with someone else’s. The temptation was real and strong. I almost didn’t know what to do. 

“Hand me the voice recorder,” I sighed with a stern look on my face. “It’s the little gray device near the box.”

With the snap of his fingers, the recording was nestled in my right hand. The King of Curses didn’t move one inch. I brought my eyes back up to his face and took in his devious smirk. It was so knowing and seemed unsurprised of my choice. He almost expected it and I hated that. 

I pressed the “stop” button on the device and tossed it aside. I made sure to never break eye contact with the eight-foot monster as my hands lowered to my shirt. My fingers found the buttons and slowly started to undo each one. The King of Curses swiftly lost our little staring contest and stared directly at my chest. My cleavage grew one inch at a time and it seemed he grew harder by the second. Once I was on the last button, Sukuna brought his hands up to touch my breasts, but I immediately slapped them away.

He laughed at the notion. “Oooh, feisty. I love that in a woman.”

“Do you?” I asked with a smile.

“They’re always the best ones to break,” he winked.

I gave him an unamused look. “On your knees.”

A look of genuine shock passed on his face. “Excuse me.”

“Get on your knees,” I enunciated each syllable in the sentence and kept that bored look on my face.

“I think you got it mistaken, sweetheart,” he quipped, bringing his face closer to mine. That time our noses actually touched. “I am the one in charge here.”

A dangerous smirk slowly inched up to my lips and situated itself there. “Tell me, Mr. King of Curses, did you summon yourself or was I the one to do it?”

“You were, but—”

“And according to my research,” I interjected, running a finger along his solid abs. “The summoner is in full control of the demon if there is no bargain made between the two. Meaning, I can keep you here as long as I want and do whatever the fuck I want until I present you with some kind of deal. In other words.” I allowed my hands to slide lower against his abdomen until they brushed against the protruding tent in his leather pants. “I have you by the balls and I am the one in charge.”

There was an expression in his eye that I couldn’t exactly place. It wasn’t anger or frustration. It wavered the line of infatuation and intrigue. Just like me, the nine-hundred-year-old emperor was curious. I don’t think people ever challenged him before, let alone women. It was easy to be afraid of the eight-foot-tall beast. He had four arms and two sets of eyes. All his teeth came down to a point and looked incredibly sharp. He had thick, lined tattoos on every part of his body, including his face. His eyes were an electric red and seemed to bore into one’s soul the longer they looked at you. There were muscles littered all over that massive body and he could move faster than sound itself. Sukuna Ryomen was an obvious apex predator to me and I was nothing but a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. 

He could have simply rejected my request and placed me on my knees instead. He had all the power to do it. 

Yet, he didn’t.

The King of Curses sunk to his knees slowly, keeping eye contact as he did so. He placed his hands on his lap and sat back on his heels. The demon looked up at me with wonder and a little anticipation. He had no idea what I was going to do next.

I let my open dress shirt slip from my arms and fall into a puddle at my feet. The only thing covering my top half was a simple cotton bra. It was pink and thin. When I looked down, I could see my perfectly pebbled nipples through the fabric. 

Sukuna could not stop staring at them either. 

Slowly, I lifted my left heel from the ground and took my leather pump into my grasp. I slipped the shoe off and tossed it aside. It hit the marble floor with a delayed “thud”. I repeated the action with the other one and looked down at the red-eyed demon. His eyes were still on my chest. I pressed my back against the metal door once more and lifted my stocking-covered foot to his lap. I rubbed my toes along the thick thighs and inched closer to the leather tent situated between them. Gently, I ran my foot against the erect member. My toes wiggled up the thick shaft, attempting to feel it through the thick fabric. I pressed the ball of my foot atop the member and felt Sukuna shiver beneath me. 

“Ooh,” I taunted with a smirk. “So you like that?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Does it feel good, baby ‘kuna?” I asked, rubbing the ball of my foot against the shaft. 

“. . . Yes.”

“Bet you wish I would just unbutton your pants and use my hands, huh?”

The demon groaned and briefly closed his eyes. Sukuna opened his mouth to say something but immediately stopped. He tilted his head to the ceiling and murmured a few words in a language I didn’t recognize. While he was distracted, I removed my foot from his crotch; earning a growl from him. I dropped my hands to my thighs and slowly lifted up my skirt until it was above my rear. I pressed my thumbs in the waistband of both my pantyhose and my underwear and shoved them down. They slid down my smooth legs with ease and ended up at my ankles a moment later. Sukuna’s eyes were back on me. The curly mound was in his eye line and I could see his nostril flare a few times.

It was taking everything in him not to dive right in.

“Come here, pet,” I cooed, widening my legs for him.

The massive demon closed the distance between our two bodies in a heartbeat. Yet, his hands remained on his lap and his gaze was on my face. He was waiting for instruction. I almost giggled at the notion. A famed warlord and emperor was waiting for a mere human to tell him what to do. The situation was ironic in every sense of the word. But, it made my heart swell with pride. I had the deadly man, both alive and dead, on his knees before me. Sukuna was practically begging with his eyes to kiss my cunt. He was doing all he could to be a good little poppet. 

“Have a reward for being such an ob—”

My leg was hoisted on his shoulder and the other was hooked on his elevated arm. Both of my feet were off the ground. My thighs were wide apart and my cunt was exposed to the demon’s hot breath. The lower lips were slick and sensitive— which made the sensation even more pleasurable. His heavy, wet tongue slid against the tingling vulva and made my whole body shiver. A silent curse fell from my lips and I took a tight hold of his pink hair. The demon repeated the action several times, before shoving his face between my thighs. His hot mouth latched onto the weeping cunt and began to suck. The air in my lungs had grown thick and it was suddenly hard to take a full breath. In addition to the suction, his plush tongue was lapping against my clit. 

“Oooh. . . fuck. . . pet,” I hissed, rolling my hips against his face. “You are so good with that filthy mouth of yours. Keep going like this and I’m gonna cream all over that pretty face.”

Sukuna growled at the statement and pressed his claws into my thighs. The action was light but still heavy. He didn’t want to draw blood, but he still wanted to hold me very tightly. 

I lifted one of the massive palms placed on my stomach and lifted it to my face. I took in the thick fingers and the veins along the back of it. There were callouses on the fingers and a few on the inside. His claws were sharp enough to slit a throat, which explains his gentleness with them. I brought the bruised knuckles and gave them a tender kiss. I repeated the action on each finger until I was met with the claws once again. The longer I looked at his fingers, the more I wanted them in my mouth. I lowered my tongue from between my lips and ran the tip of it against the underside of the claws. The demon groaned in response and gripped my thighs tighter. I took long strides against the calloused digits and made sure to keep constant eye contact. 

“Can you lose the claws or not?” I asked, breathless. 

I could feel my peak gently rising over the horizon. There was a warm sensation slowly growing in my belly and my legs started to buckle. My hips were vibrating against his suckling maw and Sukuna had no intention of stopping any time soon.

Without warning, the claws on all four of his hands started to shrink back into his nail bed. Once they were close enough to the fingertip, the point widened and formed a standard fingernail. It was still black, of course. I smiled wickedly at the fingers and started to lick them all over again. Slowly, I started adding suction to the licks. I moved my lips to each digit, starting at the pinky, until I was left with the middle and an index finger. I bit my bottom lips lightly in anticipation. I was internally scolding myself for being excited over a silly thing. 

It was just a hand. It was nothing more. Sure, his palm was almost the size of my face and his fingers were twice the length of mine. It was a standard working man’s hand. The rational part of my brain couldn’t see why a girl would be so infatuated with something so mundane and ordinary. However, the irrational part of my brain couldn’t help but picture them within me. The fingers were so long and inviting— and not to mention pretty thick. Two of them were the width of a standard cock and would fill me decently. But a third would stretch me deliciously. It would do a wonderful job preparing for the monster between his legs. 

“Add a finger into my center,” I instructed, lowering his palm from my mouth. “And hook it upward.”

The obedient demon did exactly what he was told and pressed a finger to my center. The digit easily slipped into my awaiting hole. A low moan fell from my lips as he pressed against my G-spot. My hips rolled against his hand, greedy for more friction. 

“Add another,” I said quickly. 

The need to be stretched was becoming more prevalent and more prevalent. The second finger slipped into my canal and I shuddered. The subtle burn of the intrusion was glorious. The calloused fingertips pressing against the spongy area sent me deeper into bliss. His plump lips were still suckling my throbbing bud. The air in my lungs had gradually started to grow thicker and my body started to tingle. My mouth casually fell open as my eyes closed. My body was buzzing, vibrating from everything that I was experiencing. I had never felt this good with any partner I had. Many would complain about me even asking for oral. While others thought a clit lick was enough to make me cum. Yet, here was a Demon. The King of Curses on his knees feasting on my cunt like it was the last meal he’s ever had. A bloodthirsty heathen, at least according to history, was willing to treat me like a goddess and the mortal men thought me an object. 

Of course, it did help that he was attractive— in the worst way possible. 

My back arched against the metal door and my hips started to splutter against his face. All the air came rushing into my throat at once. My hand, shakily, gripped one of Sukuna’s spare ones. I interlocked our fingers and squeezed them tightly. I felt the demon tremble from beneath me. My messy cunt humped his pretty face as I rode out the climax. Silent curses fell from my lips like a goddamn sailor and my whimpers were barely audible. Stars exploded behind my eyes and electricity coursed through my veins. 

When the wave had come to a staggering halt, I pushed Sukuna’s head away from my oozing pussy. His fingers slipped from my sensitive walls shortly after. The demon set my shaky legs down and sat me on his lap while he rested on his heels. He stared at me with all four of his eyes. A tired smile fell on my lips as I gazed down at him, happily. 

“Kiss me.”

His lips were on mine before I could finish the last syllable. 

The kiss was slow and sensual. It made my heart grow warm and needy. It felt like something you’d give to a forgotten lover. Like a last effort to remind them of what they had lost. It engulfed me in feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time. Tricked my brain into thinking he actually had feelings for a mere mortal. 

I pulled away from the embrace to catch my breath. His kisses continued on. They inched down my jaw and along my neck. My shaky hand reached up to his pink locks and tugged lightly. My body rolled against his; desire was nipping at my heels once more. A pair of hands took hold of my waist and kneaded the soft flesh around it. I sighed, amused at the sensation. The skilled fingers moved lower and lower until they were palming my rear. He squeezed and pinched the soft flesh, growling while he completed the action. The hands moved lower and captured my thighs. He hoisted my body in the air once again. We were still attached at the lips. My hands were in his hair and my hips were rolling against his lap. 

"I need you," the demon growled against my neck. "I need to be inside of you. Right now or I'm going to paint the floor with my seed."

He wasn't the type to beg, I knew that for sure. The little statement was meant to suggest that he was nearing his limit. More than ever, he was desperate to be situated between my walls. 

A chuckle fell from my lips. "I barely touched you and you're already going to cum? You better not be a minute man, 'Kuna."

He scoffed and lifted his head from my neck. The intensity of his gaze made my insides rumble with delight and my head spin. “Don’t be mistaken, Historian. This little game of yours is truly something, but don’t let it go to your head. I could fuck you to the inch of your life and still wouldn’t reach my peak. You mortals are easy to break, all it takes is a few orgasms and some dirty words.”

I hummed, unamused by the comment. “Is that what you want? To break every woman you come in contact with?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he quipped, pinching my backside.

I didn’t even flinch. 

“Well, let’s see how long you can keep up with me, Your Majesty,” I said with a sigh. “Give me your worst.”

“You shouldn’t have said that, little human,” he snickered. “You’re gonna regret it.”

With the flick of his wrist, the remnants of my clothes were in ribbons on the marble floor. Never once did my feet touch the ground in the process either. He cradled me with one pair of arms while using the other to do his dirty work. I was completely bare before Sukuna, and our bare chests were pressed together. His upper arms were caressing and massaging the soft flesh along my back, while his lower arms hooked around my legs and gripped the underside of my thighs. The King of Curses brought his lips to mine once again, before lowering my body onto his awaiting member. I didn’t even notice that he had taken off his pants and exposed the massive rod into the cool air of the room. Due to our position, it was hard to catch a glimpse of what it looked like, but I did feel it. 

A gasp fell from my lips as my eyes fell closed. The stretch was delectable and stung marvelously. My oozing walls contracted against the throbbing member, almost begging him for inch after inch. The girth was unimaginable and it almost brought tears to my eyes. I dug my nails into the Curse’s forearms and tossed my head back. Silent moans kissed my lips as my walls continued to ooze all around him. Sukuna’s breath grew coarse and his grip on my thighs was tight. I could feel his eyes staring at me; taking in my lewd demeanor and the feeling of my tight pussy.

Before we both knew it, his entire length was situated in me and it seemed to shock him greatly.

“How fascinating,” he marveled, moving his upper hands to hips. “Never has a human taken all of me, without some resistance. This union is going to be better than I originally anticipated.”

“I’m ready when you are, ‘Kuna,” I said, gripping his forearms tightly. 

The eight-foot-tall curse started off slowly raising my body off his shaft and lowering back down gently. It was a cautionary measure to just how much I could take and how fast. Little by little he increased his speed and pressure. More and more my body bounced with such rigor and persistence. I didn’t start to truly make noise until the monster was basically dropping me on his awaiting cock as if I weighed nothing at all. Shouts mixed with moans spilled from my lips as I looked up at his face. Sukuna wore a cocky smirk with pride. It felt as though he was proud of himself for obtaining such a reaction out of me. I dug my nails into his forearms and watched as his smirk faltered from the sensation. 

Pain must’ve been the easiest way to his heart.

The heavy member was stretching out my poor womanhood in every direction. However, I could feel the plush head hitting a spot deep within my cunt, just beneath my cervix. The pleasurable sensation was making every nerve in my body sing. The longer his thrusts invaded my welcoming body, the closer I was being brought to orgasm. It wasn’t long before my thighs started to tremble from the insane movements of the monster. A thin sheet of sweat started to form on my body. I could feel my walls flutter rapidly against the massive cock and tension build in my lower abdomen. 

“Gonna cum already?” He snickered. “I thought you said I was supposed to keep up with you?”

I lazy smile fell on my lips. “Your ignorance is showing, baby ‘Kuna.”

“Please do share, Miss Historian.”

 Before I could reply to the statement, the King of Curse started to drop me even harder on his cock. The additional pressure on my a-spot had forced an electric shock through my body. My upper half jolted forward and my grip on his forearms tightened even more. I could see my knuckles begin to turn white from the hold I had on him. All the nerves in my body began to buzz and my abdomen started to ache. The climax was close enough for me to taste, but not close enough to devour. The need to cum had taken over every other thought in my mind. The worries about how dangerous the monster fucking me had slipped away. I no longer cared that he had been the most dangerous man in history, nor did I care about how completely insane the evening had been with him. I had never imagined being entangled with such a notorious curse and having him fucking me for the last hour with little kickback. I couldn’t believe how much I was enjoying having this monster at my beck and call. Nor could I believe that he sank to his knees and submitted to me. 

It wasn’t something I had been expecting, but I sure as hell wanted more of it. 

The orgasm struck my body like an arrow and threw me forward. Sukuna quickly repositioned his hands— wrapping two arms around my upper back and two around my waist. My thighs hooked around his hips and my arms were placed around his neck. My entire body was convulsed from the orgasm. I pressed my face fell against his smooth chest as I shivered against him. Curses and whimpers oozed from my lips as my cunt painted his dick with a thick creamy substance. He never stopped his thrusts. Sukuna kept the same, hard and quick pace as I became undone before him. The feeling was completely otherworldly and indescribable. I never wanted him to stop. I never wanted to be apart from him. I wanted our bodies to be joined together forever.

When the final wave of the orgasm left, an insatiable feeling had taken its place. An unrecognizable greed ate at my womb, begging the monster to fill it to the brim with his seed. The need wasn’t something I was ashamed of, but I wouldn’t dare share it with Sukuna. The King of Curses would let the statement go straight to his head.

I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his half-hooded eyes. He was studying me closely. Taking in my every reaction to see what my body craved the most. It made my heart flutter.

While his hips worked their magic, I leaned back into his arms and placed my hands on his shoulders. Slowly, I moved my left hand along his collarbone and placed it at the base of his neck. His eyes were focused on my face, a look of encouragement on his face. He wanted to be choked. His crimson eyes were practically begging me for it. 

But, I needed to hear him say it.

I moved my hand back to his shoulder but never broke eye contact. A look of disappointment flashed upon his face before he quickly washed it away 

“If you want something, pet,” I offered with a smirk. “You gotta use your big boy words.”

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied, the smirk widening to a smile. “Now, come on, baby ‘Kuna, tell your Mistress what you want her to do to you.”

A sigh fell from his lips and he briefly closed his eyes. “Will you. . . Can you. . . choke you me. . . please?”

I could feel my heart flutter once more from the broken sentence. I was almost tempted to ask him to repeat it, but I knew he wouldn’t no matter how much I begged. The shameful look he gave me when he opened his eyes made my insides stir. It added to the overall pleasure of the slow, deep thrusts he had been giving me. My chest was swelling with an emotion I didn’t fully recognize and I was almost scared to acknowledge it. There were remnants of love and longing in his gaze. I had seen glimpses of the emotions earlier, but I had tried to convince myself that I was going insane. Yet, the more I looked at him, the clearer his emotions seemed to me.

Slowly, I placed my hand on his neck and gave it a subtle squeeze. 

His eyes fluttered closed and a low groan erupted from his abdomen. “Harder. . .” The request was just above a whisper, but it echoed through my mind loudly. 

Like the good Mistress I was, I complied.

Realizing that Sukuna was far from human— and didn’t require air to survive— placed an evil idea in my mind. I mustered up all the strength in my right hand and squeezed his thick neck with everything in me. I watched my knuckles flicker from their usual color to a chalk-white as I did so. The massive monster shivered underneath me and his eyes fluttered shut. Deep, animalistic growls pierced the air around us. They were followed by the swift changing of his thrusts against my body. Instead of fucking me tenderly with a hint of aggression, Sukuna had switched to screwing me like he hated me. His hips slammed against my center with such rigor, I almost couldn’t think straight. My whole body bounced and jumped against his. My breath grew thick in my throat and my nerves seemed to sing. My thighs grew slicker and slicker by the second until I was sure my arousal was oozing all over his lap. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna growled, beneath me. “Why do you feel so good around me, mortal?”

I didn’t even have the air to respond to him. My head was doing a dangerous dance and jumbling all the thoughts within it. Even in my sedated state, I maintained the pressure I had on his neck. I could feel his thick member jolt and twitch within me. The reaction seemed to surprise him as well. His body took off in a smooth vibration as growls erupted from his throat. The King of Curses was nearing his end, only after about 30 minutes of constant penetration. To a human, that length of stamina would’ve been impressive. He would have been categorized as a good amongst men. But for a monster? It was questionable. Sukuna was known to fight for days without breaking a sweat. He could obliterate armies and leave relatively unharmed. There had been stories of his whore-ish escapades as well. Tales on how he had to reserve almost ten women in a brothel to get his rocks off. The stories, also, continued to say how each woman had to be given a “rest day” after spending a night with him and would happily do it all over again.

His hips vibrated against my pelvis and I felt his grip tighten on my thighs. A string of curses dripped from his tongue and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna paint those pretty walls with my seed,” he growled, thrusting even faster into my cunt. “Mark my fucking territory so no other man can enter.”

The sensation in my belly was downright undeniable. The chilly approach to the climax had first taken over my toes. Numbness inched up the little nubs and to my calves. However, there was a change in temperature as it approached my thighs. I was no longer cold in that area, but insanely hot. There was heat that radiated from Sukuna and glittered over to me. My thighs felt as though they were burning and my stomach was on fire. Yet, it wasn’t painful. It was pleasurable. It gave me an added adrenaline boost. Instead of freezing like a fawn when the climax approached, I attacked like a bear. My nails dug into Sukuna’s neck and shoulder. I tossed my head back fiercely and felt the scrunchie holding my twists burst. Long strands cascaded over my naked, sweaty body. 

“Harder,” I growled, my head tilted to the ceiling. “Come on, pet. Fuck me like you mean it.”

My back hit the table moments later. My thighs were still spread open and wide for the monster. He pressed his body against mine completely— the closest we have been since this whole ordeal— and started to rut into me. Filling me over and over again with his over-sensitive cock. The pants coming from his lips sounded criminal and downright wrong. It was strange to hear a monster almost out of breath, especially when to sex. The activity was so natural in comparison to what atrocities Sukuna was usually up to. It felt like the King was giving me all he had in that last round. Mustering up his last bit of stamina to satisfy his mistress. 

That forbidden feeling was stirring in me once again. The one that felt dangerously similar to love. Even with my nearly fucked-out brain, I knew it was impossible to feel that way about someone I had just met a little while ago. It was even more irresponsible to feel that way about a literal King of Curses. A former menace to society in life and current pain in the ass in death. Just as much as Sukuna pleasured me, he annoyed the absolute shit out of me as well. His arrogant attitude and boastful demeanor almost made me hate him. Almost. It was his wavering obedience and the look I got when I choked him that changed my mind. I couldn’t hate him. At least not right now.

The orgasm was mind-numbing and  appeared out of nowhere. It was the strongest of the three and seemed to have sent me into the atmosphere. My back arched against the table and my nails dug into his ribs. My eyes rolled back and my mouth fell open. Above me, I could feel Sukuna’s body freeze for a few seconds. His hips jolted and trembled fiercely as his cock spasmed within me. Hot cum spilled from his slit and oozed into my awaiting pussy. Broken breaths fell from his lips as he gathered my body into his arms once again. Sukuna wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. A searing kiss was placed on my lips as he lazily thrust into my slick cunt. It felt as though he wanted to empty every last drop into me before pulling away.

Yet, even when he finished emptying his load into me, the King of Curses still held me in his arms. The kiss had long been broken, but his forehead was pressed against mine afterward. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft. There was a peaceful look on his face. He didn’t seem to be the massive warlord, the King of Curses, or the cocky bastard that blew my back out— he was simply Sukuna and that was enough for me. My hands found refuge in his hair. I stroked the pink locks tenderly and hummed sweetly. That forbidden feeling hadn’t left just yet. Everything about that moment oozed intimacy and, dare I say it, love. As much as I wanted more of it— as much as I fucking craved it— I knew it was not meant to be. I knew I had to be satisfied with just this. My hands in his hair and his body against my own.

“You stole something from me,” Sukuna spoke, finally lifting his forehead from mine. He opened his crimson eyes and searched my face. I didn’t know what he was looking for. 

I lowered my hand from his hair. “What did I steal?”

“My power,” he replied, wrapping his arms around me and pulling away. “You stole my power. Well, some of it at least.”

I sat up at the edge of the table and combed a twist behind my ear. “What are you talking about? How is that even possible?”

“It isn’t possible!” He snapped back with his back to me. 

His heavy feet paced around the small archive room and there was a quizzical expression on his face. The monster had been completely deep in thought. He was working out every possible answer, theory, or hypothesis in his head as to what the hell was going on. Wondering how a mere mortal could conjure him with any preparation. Thinking about how she was able to make him subtle to her with little effort. Questioning how it was even possible that she could steal  some of his power if she wasn’t a curse user. I knew what he was thinking because I too was thinking the exact same thing. The situation was bizarre for both parties and left us both stumped. 

Until my eyes dropped to the discarded grimoire on the floor and something suddenly clicked.

“I didn’t steal your power,” I said, watching Sukuna stop in his tracks at the sound of my voice. “I contained it.”

Slowly, his head turned to me as the thought penetrated his mind as well. A slow, cocky smile was pulled onto his lips. 

“You are my vessel,” he replied. “My anchor in the mortal world.”

“In other words, I am—”

“Destined to be mine. Forever.”

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a/n: what's good y'all? I know I am hella late to kinktober, but here's my submission. I wanted to do something a little different for you y'all. do you we like the longer stories? how do we feel about the prompts? be honest tell me how you feel about it. i love reading your comments.

also, I will post a new story before the end of October, so watch out for that.

thinking about an official taglist. how do we feel about that?

see you soon.

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[sunshinepanic]

Unexpected 5

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: Things are going great with you and Rafe but when you finally get a chance to have your two worlds come together for a night everything comes to a head.

Chapter Warning: angst, fluff, protective Rafe, Protective John B, JJ is a douche, smut, violence

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 4,640

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

About two weeks after John B and Sarah accidentally found out about you and Rafe, you decided to bite the bullet and talk to Pope and Cleo. You had a few moments of panic while waiting for them to meet you at the chateau to talk, but it turns out telling Pope and Cleo wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. Pope understandably freaked out, but after John B talked him down, he sat down and actually talked to you about what had happened and how you and Rafe came to be in a relationship. It took some convincing, but he eventually came around to the idea. You didn’t expect them to become friends in any capacity, but Pope agreed to be civil as long as you were happy. Cleo was by far the easiest to convince since she didn’t have an extensive past with Rafe like the rest of your friend group, but much like John B she was all for the idea of disposing of Rafe’s corpse if he hurt you. Everyone agreed to let you tell JJ and Kie in your own time, especially since everyone knew how telling the hot-headed blond was likely to go. You and JJ weren’t as close as you used to be, and it seemed like ever since him and Kie started dating, every time you were around each other, you would either avoid him all together or he would act hostile towards you. He would often scrutinize you, making comments about why you weren’t around as often or questioning why you were smiling at your phone; he even seemed to get annoyed about you showing affection to your other friends. So they really couldn’t fault you for wanting to put off telling JJ and Kie for as long as possible. In the meantime, you felt like you were doing a pretty damn good job of balancing your time between friends, Rafe, and work. Although you could admit to yourself that it would be a lot easier if Rafe could spend time with your friends too, but until you talked to JJ, that couldn’t happen.

 You were currently trying not to laugh as you held Rafe’s hands while he attempted to balance on your skateboard. You pulled him across the deserted skatepark in the middle of the night. “I’m going to let go now.” Rafe gripped your hands harder. “Don’t you dare! I swear to god, Y/N!” You cackled as you released your hands from his grip. He rolled away on the board, managing to keep his balance for a short distance before he started to wobble. You quickly chased after him, managing to reach him just as he toppled off your skateboard, sending it flying across the park. Rafe collapsed on top of you, knocking the wind out of both of you. “I am never doing that again.” His adamant refusal to get back on the board sent you into another fit of giggles. "Aw, Bambi, you didn’t do that badly. You just have to keep trying.” Rafe narrowed his eyes at the nickname you had given him as a crack at the fact that he couldn’t keep his balance on your skateboard. You tensed as you felt his finger start to dig into your sides. “Don’t you dare!” A smirk overtook Rafe’s face, and he started to tickle you, causing you to shriek and wiggle out from under him. You quickly got up and sprinted towards the safety of his truck. Trying to catch your breath, you turned as Rafe made his way towards you and tossed your board into the bed of the truck. He pinned you against the door and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

 Just like always, kissing Rafe felt like touching a live wire. Heat quickly spread throughout your body as you buried your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer. Rafe broke the kiss to look down at your lust blown eyes. “Someone seems a little excited. You want me to fuck you, baby?” You bit your lip as you nodded. He chuckled, “I’m not sure you deserve it. You’ve been acting like a little brat.” You knew poking fun at Rafe was a great way to get him riled up, and if you played your cards right, it would end in a mind-blowing orgasm for you. You looked up at him from under your lashes and bit your lip. “I promise I’ll be a good girl.” Rafe’s hands groped your ass as he pulled your hips against his growing bulge. He nipped at your neck. “Are you going to let me fuck you right here? Fuck you in my truck, where anybody could walk by and see how needy you are for my cock.” You whimpered at his filthy words and quickly reached behind you to pull the back door of the truck open. Chuckling Rafe slapped your ass as you turned to crawl up into the backseat, with him following right behind you.

Rafe wasted no time pulling your shirt off of your body as soon as the door closed behind him. "God, I fucking love when you don’t wear a bra. I can see your perky little nipples through your shirt all day; it drives me fucking crazy.” Rafe sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. He alternated playing with your nipple rings with his tongue and nipping at the soft flesh of your tits. You worked one of your hands between your bodies and into Rafe's shorts, gripping his cock and slowly pumping it. “Please Rafe. I need more. I need you to fuck me.” Chuckling Rafe sat back and removed his shirt. He slapped your hip, signaling for you to flip onto your stomach. Rafe grabbed you by your hips, arching your ass into the air. His big palms ran across your ass before hooking his fingers into your cloth shorts and Lacey underwear, pulling them down until they were trapped around your knees. Rafe slapped a hand across your ass cheek, causing you to moan out, leaving a red handprint behind. He leaned forward, lapping at your core and moaning at your taste. He alternated between licking and sucking at your dripping core, and soon you felt two of his fingers push into your aching pussy causing you to moan out. “Fuck baby, please.” You could hear him using his other hand to undo his belt buckle and jeans while he fucked his thick fingers in and out of your needy hole. “You want my cock, baby? You need me to fuck this needy little pussy that bad?” You were thrusting back against Rafe’s fingers, but it wasn’t enough. You needed him to fill you up. “Yes! Please, baby, I need it. I want your cock in my needy little pussy.” Rafe pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper, before you felt him line himself up with your entrance. “That’s my good girl. Ive got you, Sunshine.” He slowly started to push himself into your welcoming heat. The stretch felt so good that you moaned out as you pushed yourself back on his cock until he was fully seated inside you. He immediately started pumping into you hard and deep. "God, your tight little pussy feels so good, baby. It’s like you were fucking made for me.” One of your hands had a death grip on the backseat as the other pressed against the door to give yourself leverage to push back into his thrusts. Moans fell from your lips as the sound of Rafe fucking into you filled the heated space. “Don’t stop! I’m gonna cum! Please, please make me cum!” Rafe moved one of his hands forward and started rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Sunshine, make a mess for me. I wanna feel your pretty little pussy cum on my cock.” The stimulation from his fingers and him pounding into your sensitive walls, paired with the delicious filth pouring from Rafe’s lips, sent you crashing over the edge. “Fuck yeah, baby girl, just like that. You gonna let me cum in this pretty little pussy?” You nodded your head, trying to continue pushing back into his thrusts. “Yes! Please cum in my tight little pussy. Fill me up, baby, please!” Your needy little whines and the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock pushed Rafe over the edge. Hot ropes of cum painted your quivering walls as he twitched inside of you. Once you both caught your breath, Rafe slowly pulled out of your pliant body, causing you to hiss at the sudden loss. He collapsed back against the door as you slowly sat up. You pulled your shorts and underwear back into place and crawled into his lap, burying your face in his neck. You sat like that for a few minutes as he held you, and you both came down from your high.

 Eventually, Rafe nudged you. “Hey Sunshine. We should probably get going. It's more than likely that someone has probably noticed a fogged-up truck sitting here by now, and with all the noise you were making, they probably called the cops.” You immediately whacked him, causing him to chuckle as you crawled out of his lap. You both got redressed, and then you climbed over the center console and into the passenger seat while Rafe made his way around to the driver’s side. When Rafe pulled up down the road from the chateau to drop you off, you leaned over, pulling him into a deep kiss. “You better stop it unless you want me to fuck you right here in front of John B’s house.” Laughing, you pulled away. "Fine, I’ll stop. But speaking of John B, me and some of the guys are planning on having a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you would come.” Rafe furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Last time I checked, JJ and Kie still don’t know about us, and I don’t exactly get along with any of your friends.” You sighed at him. “I know, but I already talked to the guys, and they are down to play nice if you are, and JJ and Kie have plans tomorrow night, so we don’t even have to worry about them.” Rafe sighed and was planning to say no, but when he looked at your face, you were giving him the most dramatic puppy dog eyes he had ever seen. Scoffing, he put his hand over your face and gently pushed your head away. “Fine! I’ll come tomorrow, but only if you promise not to do that face again.” Laughing, you leaned over and pulled him into another kiss before jumping out of the truck and making your way down the path to the chateau.

 When you entered the house, John B and JJ were sitting on the couch playing video games. You called out a quick hello and informed John B that you were going to hop in the shower and borrow some of his clothes for the night. He waved you off, concentrating on killing an opposing team in their game. You could feel JJ’s eyes burning a hole in your back as you made your way down the hall. When you got out of the shower, you slipped on a pair of John B’s sweatpants that you rolled at the waist and one of his old shirts that hung off one of your shoulders. You pulled your hair up as you made your way back out to the boys and sat down in front of John B laying your head on his leg, while you watched him and JJ continue playing. JJ’s character got blown up on the screen, and he tossed his controller down while John B tried to fight off the opposing team to be able to revive him. You could feel JJ’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. “What the fuck is that?” You froze for a moment, not sure what JJ was referring to. When you turned back to look up at him, he was staring at where your collar bone was exposed. You looked down and noticed a faint bruise had formed. Memories of Rafe sinking his teeth into you flashed through your mind. You rolled your eyes at JJ’s outburst. “It’s nothing; don’t worry about it.” JJ scoffed, catching John B’s attention. “It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you got mauled by some asshole.” You sigh, not wanting to deal with JJ’s attitude towards you tonight. Ignoring JJ, you looked at John B and told him you were going to head to bed. JJ piped up, informing you that you would have to wait until he and John B were done playing games so you could sleep on the couch because he had dibs on the extra room. Rolling your eyes, you went to sit back down, but John B stopped you. “It’s fine, Y/N/N you can go sleep in my bed. I’ll crash on the couch tonight.” Smiling gratefully at John B you headed off to his room and locked the door. You were over JJ and his shitty attitude towards you, and you just wanted to get some sleep and look forward to hanging out with your friends and your boyfriend tomorrow night.

 The next morning, you woke up and made your way outside, where you could hear John B and Sarah talking on the porch. You wrapped your arms around Sarah from behind, making eye contact with John B. “Thanks again for letting me crash in your room. I don’t know what JJ’s problem with me is.” John B shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Eventually he will get over himself, and hopefully we can go back to the way things were.” A sad smile spread across your face. You hoped that one day you and JJ could go back to how things were before he kissed you, but the longer this went on, and now with the fact that you were dating Rafe, you weren’t so sure that would ever actually happen. After having breakfast, you and Sarah headed out to pick up supplies for tonight before heading back to your house to get ready. You got dressed in a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a cropped Motley Crue T-shirt. After Sarah finished doing her makeup, the two of you headed to the chateau so you could all ride down to the beach together. You shot off a quick text to Rafe, sending him the location of your plans.

 You helped Pope and Cleo build the bonfire while John B and Sarah packed the cooler and snacks down from the Twinkie. You and the girls were laughing at the boys; John B and Pope were failing spectacularly at having a handstand contest. Just when you were starting to wonder where Rafe was, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and a kiss press against your temple. “Hey baby.” He let you go as he set a case of beer down, and John B and Pope made their way back towards your group. Things definitely felt a little awkward at first, but as time went on, everyone seemed to relax a little bit. Conversation was flowing easily, and as the night went on and the sun started to set, the boys were comparing stories of the stupid shit they had gotten in trouble for growing up, while you and the girls watched in amazement that no one had tried to kill each other. Rafe caught your eye and made his way over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dropped a kiss on your lips. “You’re staring.” You scoffed at him. “Can you blame me? It’s like watching a lion befriend a herd of zebras.” Rafe chuckled at your dramatics. "Oh, you got jokes, huh?” He stepped back, pulling his tank top off, leaving him clad in nothing but a pair of board shorts. You arched an eyebrow at him in confusion. “What are you doing?” Everyone watched as Rafe quickly grabbed you, causing you to shriek out as he ran twenty yards down the beach and directly into the ocean while holding you. Your friends were all laughing at you as you swatted at your boyfriend. As you escaped his grasp and made your way out of the water, you tripped Rafe and shoved him backwards into the water again. You had just made it back to the warmth of the fire when you heard a voice that made you freeze.

 Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, and after a few moments, you watched as JJ and Kie made their way down the hill and directly towards you. Everyone immediately tensed as JJ and Kie walked up to your group. JJ looked around, noticing that everyone seemed to be acting weird. “What’s up, guys? We decided it would be more fun to hang out with you guys than sit through dinner with Kie’s parents, so we bailed on them.” When nobody answered, Kie piped up. “What’s wrong? Yall look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Just then, you watched JJ’s eyes snap in your direction and lock on Rafe, who was making his way out of the ocean. As Rafe made his way towards your group, a murderous look crossed JJ’s face. He jabbed a finger in Rafe’s direction. “What in the fuck is he doing here?” John B immediately tried to interject, telling JJ to calm down. Hearing JJ’s outburst, Rafe's head snapped up as he finally made it to your side, still shaking water out of his hair. Rafe raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey dude, I’m just here to hang out. I don’t want any problems.” JJ scoffed. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t want any problems? All you fucking do is cause problems everywhere you go! And since when do you hang out on this side of the island, let alone with us poor people? Why in the fuck are you here?” Just then, JJ’s eyes locked on Rafe’s hand as he linked it with yours in a comforting gesture. His eyes bounced between you and Rafe, taking in how close he was standing to you and the fact that he was touching you like it was normal. JJ turned his attention to you, disgust crossing his face. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Rafe! Of all fucking people, you’ve been whoring yourself out to this fucking prick!” You went to snap at him, but Rafe cut you off, taking a step in front of you and shoving JJ back. “Watch your fucking mouth!” Stumbling backwards, JJ laughed. "Oh, fuck off. Don’t pretend you actually give a shit about her. We all know this is just a sick game for you. Did you make a bet with your friends or something? See how long you have to slum it before she lets you get in her pants.” You could tell Rafe was getting more and more pissed with each word that fell from JJ’s lips. You could see his shoulders tensing, and his jaw was starting to tick. “Believe it or not, I actually give a shit about her, which is more than I can say for you after the shit you pulled.” That caught Kie’s attention, and JJ visibly tensed. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Rafe smirked at JJ’s visible discomfort. “Right. Tell me, does Kie know what happened just a few days before you started dating?” Before anyone could react, JJ lunged at Rafe, tackling him to the sand. Punches were thrown by both boys, but you and the rest of your friends were able to quickly pull them apart.

You cupped Rafe’s face, checking to see how bad the damage was as he spit blood on the ground from his busted lip. You turned on JJ, ignoring the split in his eyebrow, which was bleeding profusely. You shoved at his chest as hard as you could, causing him to stumble back into John B. “Fuck you, JJ! How dare you! You were supposed to be my best friend, and you have done nothing but treat me like shit for weeks!” JJ’s eyes widened at the fact that you had put your hands on him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “No! You kissed me! You knew how I felt about you; you knew that I had been in love with you for years, and you fucking kissed me, and then you immediately rejected me, only for me to find out a few days later that you started dating Kie. Do you know how that made me feel? And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you quit being my friend and started treating me like shit! Every time I see you, you have something shitty to say to me, and I’m fucking tired of it! I love you and I love Kie, and I want you to be happy, but you’re acting like a jealous fucking boyfriend when you have no right!” The silence that followed was deafening. You waited for him to respond, but he refused to make eye contact with you. Scoffing, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do this.” You took off in the direction of the twinkie, ignoring the sounds of your friends arguing amongst each other as Rafe followed behind you.

Rafe drove you back to his house, where you showered together, and he let you fuss over his busted lip. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise it looks worse than it is.” Sighing, you finish cleaning up. “You got hurt because of me. Everything is fucked up, and it’s all my fault.” Rafe grabbed you, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing about this is your fault. JJ is an ass, and he needs to get over himself. The only thing you’ve done is move on with your life.” You relented, letting Rafe pull you into bed. As you lay cuddled up in his bed, you couldn’t help but let your mind run over the events of the night. You couldn’t believe how everything went down. One minute you were laughing, and the next it was World War III. Despite Rafe reassuring you that none of what happened was your fault, you couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had done something different, then maybe none of this would have happened and Rafe wouldn’t have gotten hurt. As you listened to Rafe’s breathing even out, you heard your phone go off with a text notification. You swiped open your phone, seeing a text from JJ. “You’re right. I’ve been a fucking asshole, and I’m sorry.” You read over the message a few times before shutting your phone off.

Not being able to sleep, you made your way downstairs to find something to drink when you heard a knock on the front door. You didn’t know anyone that would be showing up to Rafe's house, especially at 3 a.m., so you slowly made your way to the front door, peeking out of the window to see who it was. The last person you expected to see standing outside Rafe’s front door was JJ. Steeling yourself, you quietly opened the door and stepped outside to see what he wanted. You stood in silence for a few minutes before you rolled your eyes and made to go back inside. JJ’s hand shot out to stop you. “Wait! Please, just give me a minute.” Sighing, you turned around, waiting for him to start talking. Biting his lip, he finally made eye contact with you. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you, and you didn’t deserve for me to hurt you the way I did. You have been my best friend forever, and honestly, I miss you. I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you can forgive me.” You didn’t respond for a few minutes, taking time to process everything. “Why in the hell did you even do it?” At the confused look on JJ’s face, you rolled your eyes, trying to contain your annoyance. “Don’t play stupid, JJ. Everything was fine until you kissed me, and now you’re running around like a jealous boyfriend after you rejected me.” JJ sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew how you felt about me, and I have feelings for you too, but I know how I am, and I couldn’t risk fucking it up and losing you forever. You are my oldest friend besides John B and I couldn’t imagine losing you because we didn’t work out.” Shaking your head, you glare at him. “So instead, you decided to hurt me anyway, start dating one of our other friends, and then treat me like shit and attack my boyfriend. Make it make sense, JJ.” A look of shame crossed his face. “I kissed you because I wanted to, but then I realized what I was risking, and I panicked. I figured rejecting you would hurt less than if we dated, and I inevitably screwed up. I figured our friendship could survive if I stopped it before it started, but I knew it wouldn’t survive a breakup. As for dating Kie, I wasn’t planning on dating her, but things happened, and I do like her. I never meant for everything to happen the way it did.” You shook your head in confusion. “So you were worried about our friendship but not about your friendship with Kie? You were so sure you would hurt me, but what about her? You aren't worried about hurting her?” JJ nervously chewed on his lip. “If something happened and me and Kie broke up and she never wanted to see me again, yeah, it would suck, but I would live with it and eventually I would move on. If me and you got together and I fucked it up and I lost you from my life completely, I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself after that.” Shaking your head, you sighed. “I just want our friendship to go back to how we used to be before that kiss, but after everything, I’m not sure how to get back there. I appreciate you coming here and apologizing, but I’m going to need some time.” Nodding his head, JJ smiled. “I get it. Take all the time you need. Just know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to be okay. I can’t promise to get along with Rafe, but I can promise not to kill him unless he hurts you.” Rolling your eyes, you say goodnight to JJ as you shake your head and open the door to go back inside. “You wouldn’t be able to kill him, and we both know it.” You made your way back up to Rafe’s bedroom and gently crawled back into bed. You knew it was going to take some time for you to forgive JJ, but you hoped one day you guys might be able to get back to the friendship you used to have. As you closed your eyes to sleep, Rafe pulled you against his body and sleepily asked if you were okay. Kissing him, you reassured him that everything was fine and to go back to sleep. With Rafe’s heartbeat in your ear, you fell asleep knowing you were exactly where you wanted to be, and there was a little bit of hope that maybe everything would be okay.

END

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[scarlettohairdye]

Home Ownership Was a Mistake

This is for @trickybonmot, who may or may not use some of these stories in a fic.

Okay. So.

In the year of our lord 2010, my wife and I were lucky enough to be gifted $20k by my parents, which in those days (given it was a historically low point for real estate prices in Seattle) was enough for a down payment on a house. It was an astounding confluence of luck and privilege that led to us being homeowners, because if they gave us the same money now it would go precisely nowhere.

Anyway, it was not enough money for a large house, or a fancy house. We looked at a lot of places, only some of which were move-in ready (and one of which was absolutely just a tear-down) and eventually settled on our current place, which is a 1910 bungalow with a detached garage that was finished and turned into a studio.

Was it the most aesthetically pleasing house when we bought it? No. The walls were white, the carpet was light beige, and the paint had seen better days. That said, it was move-in ready and the owner was pretty desperate to sell, so we took it!

The inspector let us know that some of the wiring was still the old knob-and-tube, so we'd want that updated sooner rather than later, but it looked pretty good. About half the outlets were grounded, so it didn't stop us from plugging in three-prong appliances. We just had to use more extension cords than maybe we'd prefer.

The Electrical

The first big house thing we paid for was to have the entire place rewired. Our circuit breaker was a mystery, we didn't have enough outlets, and we were tired of being stuck with specific layouts of our stuff due to the lack of grounded outlets. We were expecting about half the wiring to be up to code, and the rest would need an update.

Spoiler alert: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

The rewiring took about a week, and every morning the electrician sat down with us and told us what new fire trap he'd uncovered.

"Yeah, so the knob and tube wiring going to the lights in the ceiling? Knob and tube gets hot when it's running, and yours is under three layers of insulation."

"You know how you thought your outlets were grounded? They weren't, actually, the ground wire just went elsewhere into the house and wasn't connected to anything."

"So there's wiring in your crawlspace? Whoever put that in nailed some sheets of wood paneling over it, so we had to rip the wood paneling out to access it."

I think the job was about $15k when it was done, we had many many more outlets, and our house was no longer one bad day from lighting itself on fire. Victory, I guess?

The Studio Window

This was leaking a bit, and we knew it was leaking when we moved in. (South facing walls get all the weather in our region.) We were not handy enough to replace it ourselves at the time and we also didn't have money because I got laid off shortly after we bought the house and was making my living doing costume commissions. Solution: Trade costuming work to an acquaintance who did carpentry.

The window, we discovered, was not so much a finished window as it was a single sheet of glass sandwiched between some boards.

Badly.

The carpenter was not entirely she that she was qualified for the job, but she did manage to remove the single sheet of glass and replace it with a window that was insulated and actually capable of opening. She used caulk around it. It was way better than we had before. Maybe someday we'll have both studio windows replaced by a contractor who actually does windows, but this is not that day!

The Siding

The cedar shingles were no longer cutting it at a certain point, so we had the house resided. (Houses are money pits, in case you didn't know.) This was a $30k job (MONEY PIT!) and had several layers of badness.

Bad: Our house had no insulation. It was cedar shingles over the original siding, with nothing in between that original siding and our INTERIOR WALLS. There was occasionally a newspaper. Our PM asked if we wanted insulation? And we said yes, please!!! We did not have a lot of time to think about insulation or research the best type, so it's just sheets of the pink fiberglass stuff in there, but it exists and we have it now!

Worse: Underneath our laundry room was a horrorshow. The laundry room is an addition that was added to our house probably sometime in the 50s? And, uh...

Well, the siding guys pulled off the siding, took a look at what was under it, and immediately called the project manager. The project manager came out, took a look, and then called us. He said that the siding guys thought it really needed to be reinforced and stabilized before they re-sided it, which is very fair, because I think the people who built it originally were drunk when they did it. It was a fucking Wild West cowboy construction situation under there.

Yes, you heard that right: A LOAD-BEARING SHINGLE.

Our project manager also informed us that the siding guys couldn't do the reinforcement, because they're just siding guys. They don't do structural. This is very fair.

It also needed to be done by Monday so we could stay on schedule for the siding work.

We learned this on Friday.

I immediately called my general contractor dad and got his voicemail, because (I remembered belatedly) he was in Mexico getting dental surgery. There was absolutely no way we could get another contractor out to do the work over a single weekend.

It was up to us.

My wife and I (mostly my wife) went HAM on it. We rented big jacks from the tool library to prop the laundry room up while we replaced one of the entirely rotten support poles. One of the big telephone poles was so wrecked with dry rot we could kick it out of place. (It didn't even touch the BIG ROCK that was supposed to be its foundation!!! It was floating!!!) Several of the joists were also fucked, so we ran new joists alongside them and married them together. My wife dug holes while crouched in a 4' high space, filled the holes with gravel, compacted it by putting a piece of wood on top of it and hitting it with a mallet, and then installed an entire additional support system from 4x4s and deck blocks. She actually attached the support system TO THE FUCKING HOUSE, which was a big improvement from the way it was originally held on by vibes and paint.

Here's a tasty little before and after:

(Yeah, see how that visible joist at the front just... stops at the far left? There's a new joist right behind it now.)

This was completed with resounding cries of, "Good enough!" and "It's better than it was before!" The siding guys thought it was fine and sided over it. Someday hopefully we will be able to afford to tear the whole thing down and rebuild it with a properly poured foundation, but in the meantime the spin cycle on the washing machine no longer shakes the whole house. Victory?!

Ridiculous: The purple paint saga. My wife and I are lesbians who tend toward maximalism in our decoration style. Construction companies find this baffling. We paid extra to our siding company to get the extended color choices (if you order the siding with the color baked in it lasts longer, but you're limited to a particular range of colors) and spoiler alert: 90% of them are boring as fuck. We basically paid extra to have access to 400 shades of white and 400 more shades of beige. There were like three saturated colors in the whole book. Pathetic.

Anyway, we chose the one nice teal that was available and decided we'd paint the door purple, since all the purple colors were gray at best. The project manager then forgot to put in our order, and when he remembered he'd forgotten, ordering our siding through his company would have pushed back the start time by six weeks. We could still make the original start time if we ordered through a different company doing the same thing, though!

Me, immediately: And we wouldn't be restricted to your color palette, right? Him: Yeah, they can do custom colors. Me, slapping down a color card called "Fully Purple": MAKE IT PURPLE.

Bless this man, he went to the siding company and asked for Fully Purple. They told him they couldn't do that color, and also is he sure anyone wants this color? He called them on the phone and informed them yes, we did want that color, and also that he'd worked for them and he knew damn well they could do that color, they'd just have to custom mix it, so they needed to do their fucking jobs. Suitably chastened, they finally sent us a sample of the siding, and it was... okay. It was purple for sure, but a little de-saturated. Not the purple of our hearts.

I asked if they'd actually started manufacturing our siding yet or just sent the color sample. The project manager confirmed they hadn't, and if we ordered this imperfectly-purple siding now, it would be several weeks before we could get started.

"We're gonna paint," I decided, and our project manager put in the orders.

The paint store called him and said, "Hey, are you sure you want this color?" Yes, he assured them, that's the right color.

The guys doing the painting opened up the can and then called him and said, "Are you sure this color?" and he told them yes! They want that color!

At this point I told him he should just start responding with, "They're lesbians!!! Yes! They want the purple! They're lesbians!!!"

Eventually we cleared every hurdle god and the construction industry put in front of us, and now our house is Fully Purple.

It also has insulation, wiring that won't kill us, and a laundry room that hopefully won't collapse anytime soon. We got a heat pump installed that took shockingly little time and worked immediately, and our next project will be having the roof redone. Check back in to find out what fresh horror awaits us then! I think it'll be a second roof under our existing roof made of lead and asbestos tiles, probably!

[serinesaccade]

Les mis Enjoltaire ficrec list part 1

Hi all, I decided I'd do a scan of my extensive bookmarks list to bring together basically everything I've consumed of enjoltaire. I have not been publishing much but I can still share what brought me joy. These are not in a reasonable order (just by my reading history chronologically) and I'll be limiting them on a one-fic-per-author basis so I don't just recommend you my fave authors 100 times. See below the readmooore for the first part of this effort (page 1-5 of my bookmarks)

dressing apollo by Tegami

Model Enjolras and hot mess designer Grantaire on a reality TV show, handled brilliantly. What else do I need to say.  how sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame is also essential reading.

With My Feelings On Fire (Guess I'm a Bad Liar) by pumpkinspiceprouvaire

Enjolras and Grantaire enter the stupidest and pining-est arrangement of all time. This list is going to make it very obvious that I have trope preferences and frankly, I don’t care. This is Delicious and so is basically everything else by this author

Walk Me Home by kjack89 for serinesaccade

It is impossible to pick a good fic by kjack89 out of their infinite library of good fic so I cheated and picked the one written for me

no more cyanide kisses (i’m methylene blue) by Mousetrap

Hurts so good

send you my love on a wire by blairs

Hilarious fics, gotta love blairs

i looked to you instead by Anonymous

suckerpunch by televisionbodies

say my name a million times (and i still haven’t heard you say it enough) by dyhtps

the road not taken by Petr1chor

Another heavy debate over which fic to pick out of many greats

Revolution Barbie by StrangeOccurrence

Lesbiabs but like weirdly serious and sexual

It's You And It's Been From the Start by stellatundra

Screaming

best practices in seasonal dessert distribution: a primer by twofrontteethstillcrooked for stardust_and_sunlight

Brownie sweet

Beautiful & Good by Riotstar

Emotionally difficult for me to read like I am not sure I can continue but? Important?

in momentum. by AnnaBolena for ShitpostingfromtheBarricade

how long it's gonna be (before we get on the bus and cause no fuss) by samarskite 

The Finer Points of Communication by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade

God I love this author

And Pages To Go by femmebingley

here i am leaving you clues, by moonswinger

you can’t kill me after this fic bc I am already dead

Ho, Ho, Oh No by catstrophysics

stuck together by whooves

fire in our bellies and furtive little feelings by sarahyyy

Classic bigtime writer with big big list

the first time we met we hated each other by mariuscourf

I get so excited when they post

Silvertongue by resnovae

Compromise by Akigriffin

I am a sucker for acespec

What’s it like to date someone? by Wildrivver

Patron Saint of Silent Restraint by vivalataire for emmettcadrian

If It Ain't Baroque, Don't Fix It by vivalataire

Lost in Translation by ellevaire

It's Not the Same Anymore by ShameDumpster

Insanely cute and deeply real, I read it over and over

Witchboy by tothewillofthepeople

Ughh how does one write so good

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override - Submission Board

Hello, my darlings! I've received a lot of ideas and requests and queries about Chem Ov, so I'm making this post as a way to keep track of all of them.

Feel free to share in the comments or in my ask!

Once an idea has been submitted, I will add it here, to avoid repetition and to make sure that I am able to incorporate it into the story if it fits the narrative 💙

*random pictures included above, added cause they amuse me :)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan and the reader thinking about living together - 🦜 anon

Reader adopting Benjicat who ends up preferring his mum, unlike Sansa - TheCatAnon

Ewan seeing an ad or film of the reader and sending her a picture along with a compliment - @seamaiden

Audience reactions to Ewan and Matt's game interview from Above The Gods Eye - ✨️ anon

Reader running to Ewan's aid when he gets injured on set, shoving past Matt - @ajantanijhum

Reader having a naughty dream about Ewan and Matt - anon

Ewan comforting reader when she's on her period - anon

Sansa sneaking into Reader's bag and ending up in HOTD set - TheCatAnon

Reader getting addicted to viral pastries from a Japanese bakery, influencing Ewan, who over-indulges his sweet tooth - @theintrovertedwriter868

Ewan watching (and adoring) Darling's interview on Hot Ones or another variety show - @just-fics-station

Ewan and Darling discussing marriage and babies - anon

Ewan and Darling do the Wired Autocomplete Interview / friendship test - @seamaiden

Matt or Ewan or both seeing Darling's lingerie campaign - anon

Ewan posting Darling's high fashion ad on his stories - 💌 anon

Hotd cast playing never have i ever, drunk edition, but prior to the game they all decided to target ewan and make all of the questions related to darling (e.g. "never have i ever made longing gazes at darling during interviews?") - anon

Darling gets cast for a music video. Matt visits her on set and he gets cast in an extra role as her lover - @just-fics-station

Darling is in a musical on the West End, playing a character who's dominant and confident (thinking of Heather Chandler) and Ewan goes to watch and is obsessed - Scottish anon

Darling meets Ewan's parents or vice versa - @clarkysblog

Ewan and the reader vacaying with the cast. Them sneaking off to make out. Ewan gawking at the reader behind his sunglasses - anon

Darling prank calls Ewan/Matt for Elle - anon

A famous celeb says that Darling is their celebrity crush and wants to work with her - anon

Darling wearing a 'revenge dress' for an event - anon

Darling taking the buzzfeed hotd character quiz and getting Aemond - @seamaiden

Ewan and darling sharing in each other's interests (eg. She wears one of his rock band shirts / she'll get him into horror movies, sci-fi, skincare) - anon

Darling doing an everything shower/extensive self-care routine and being so exhausted afterward that Matt or Ewan have to take care of her - 🦘

Darling posting a hot photo on Insta, attracting admirers and triggering boyfriend Ewan - @kammmy101

Ewan and the cast supporting Darling in her theatre debut - 💌 anon

Ewan having Darling as his lockscreen and she finds out - anon

An interview flirting with Darling, and Ewan trying not to get riled up - anon

Darling and Jenna becoming best friends - ✨️ anon

[youcouldmakealife]

Masking, YCMAL edition

So, after the general info on masking, here's how it specifically looks like and impacts some of the 'verse's characters.

I think I kind of need to preface this with the fact that a lot of my characters have neurodivergent traits because, well. I do. I don't know how a neurotypical person thinks, the same way a neurotypical person doesn't know how a neurodivergent person thinks. You can read about the experience, and, despite shitty stereotypes to the contrary, you can empathize with it, but the wiring of the brain is literally different.

So when I'm listing characters here as neurodivergent, I either a) set out to write them that way or b) in hindsight can't deny that their experiences are written through a very specifically neurodivergent lens. Someone not being explicitly labelled as ND doesn't necessarily mean they aren't, I just..really don't want to go back through my entire 'verse applying diagnoses the same way I happily slap an MBTI or enneagram or kindergarten teacher/assassin label on them, because that feels wrong.

But if you're neurodivergent and see something in a particular character that makes you feel seen, I'm not going to tell you 'nah man, they're actually neurotypical'. Especially because literally every single one of them was written by someone neurodivergent.

Anyway! Canonically ND characters and their masks:

David: masks extensively. Generally does his best for 'unobtrusive, pay no attention', unsure why it doesn't seem to work (mostly because he's talented and beautiful, so it seems less 'unobtrusive' and more 'I think I'm better than you', which isn't helped by the fact that often when the mask does slip, it's to show frustration, contempt, or disdain -- think at the All-Star Game his rookie year, or several points early on with Jake. Also does not help that he often does think he's better than people.)

Bryce: Still laughing at 'straightsona' used to describe Bryce out with his teammates, because it's perfect. His 'I don't care, I'm hot as shit, bitches love me' dickhead behaviour was him picking up those behaviours from popular peers and teammates over the years, partly mistaking that for the reason they were popular (rather than being seen as boy kings making them callous or arrogant), and partly viewing them as the exemplar of someone no one would predict was gay. Jared's worst enemy.

Speaking of, honourable mention to Raf Sanchez AND Julius Halla here, Jared's going around collecting neurodivergent loved ones all through IJ(aoe).

James: 'unobtrusive, pay no attention', much more successfully than David, partly because he has a mouthpiece in the form of Finn. His crashing after road trips is partly extended overstimulation and change, but it's also having to wear the mask more extensively, because he has much less time to himself, especially when he shared a room. (He's mostly unmasked with Finn, that's why Finn is his exception to a lot of No People things, but he wasn't at the beginning).

Holden: Also kind of 'I don't care, I'm hot as shit, bitches love me', but...ironically? He doesn't mask as much as the others, and because of that, he frequently drives away people who originally seem to like him and wonders why. Has been described as 'a lot'.

Fiona: Literally will not leave the house without a full face of makeup and a pair of heels or she'll feel exposed and vulnerable, and putting her make up on is how she prepares to be Outside Fiona. She's very perky and friendly at work. The second she gets home it's an 'uggggh' moment and straight into the shower to decompress/literally unmask. She's more aware than any of the guys that she's putting on a performance, partly because she grew up with all those 'girls are expected to be...' followed by a list of things she definitively wasn't. Has also been described as 'a lot'.

Finn: And How May I Be of Service To You Today?

Now this is where it gets kind of interesting because like -- people often have facades. That's not a neurodivergent only thing. People can be fake, or posture, or pretend to be something they're not. Mike, for example, will lean into the big macho asshole when he's put on the defensive, Willy is Always Performing, Thomas is sunshine even when he doesn't really feel like being that, Robbie will play the buffoon to make people laugh if he thinks they need it, half of Joey's rants are playing to the cheap seats.

Like, there's a difference between pretending you're somebody else sometimes, or behaving inauthentically, and full on 'yeah, they're masking'.

But Georgie is masking. Georgie is, at all times, evaluating his surroundings, monitoring people's emotions and reactions (especially to him), and behaving in the manner he thinks is most likely to lead to his being liked. And he was already doing that when Robbie met him, but it's intensified significantly since.

I think that's where the biggest difference lies between some of the above ND characters and Georgie? David, for example, doesn't care if he's liked (like, yes he does, but also...no). The mask is for safety/to minimize vulnerability. David's in particular was tweaked to get praise and avoid criticism from his parents (didn't work), teachers, and coaches (worked much better), not so much for his peers.

But Georgie's isn't for safety. Georgie doesn't manage his behaviour to avoid harm, Georgie wants people to like him. And he's discovered that people don't seem to like him when he does certain things, or acts certain ways, or needs things from them, so he just...doesn't do those things.

Finn's interesting because he has both forms. Please like him it'll break his heart if you don't.

[goodboyyyy]

You'd dreamed of leaving this town once.

Moving to a big city, being surrounded by other creative gay people like you.

But that was before him.

Your neighbor.

He’d gotten divorced recently. It wasn’t hard to tell why. His wife traveled a lot for work, which he didn't like. You could tell from the constant arguments you heard. He'd say such old school, dumb shit, like women should be in the home, not out traveling and working. You'd always thought he was a square, suburban loser, mad the world was changing around him and he wasn't keeping up.

But that was before....

Before the day he invited you in for dinner while your parents were away the summer after you graduated college. You still didn't know why you'd said yes. You figured a free meal couldn't be that bad.

But once you were inside you didn't see any food, and theb he'd walked up to you, towering over you, and told you you were going to make him dinner.

And you hadn't know why, but you did get to work on his dinner. Well, you knew why, kinda- because your cock had gotten rock hard almost instantly at his command- but you didn't know why that had happened- why this man telling you what to do made you hard and drooling and eager to please someone you'd despised.

But you knew now.

Master had explained it all to you. He had to, since you were a dumb beta boy. He'd made you realize that, and that you needed a man like him to explain things to you. Thinking wasn't for you, you knew now.

He told you he'd tell you why you wanted to move away soon while you cooked, eyes glazed as you prepared his dinner and he stood behind you, massaging you gently, whispering into your ear.

You didn't care about being around other artsy people, or gay people.

You just wanted to find a boyfriend. A man. That's what all your ideas about moving were about. Sex. You were just a dick crazed little homo, after all. You thought if you went off to a big city, you could find a dream guy. A guy you could serve.

And he was right. That was all you wanted, really. You thought it was about love... but it was just about sex. A man who could hold you, own you, a man you could worship. That was what you wanted.

Because moving would've been settling, he told you.

That part confused you at first. But Master always made everything make sense once he explained it. That's why he was Master. Somehow, every deep desire you'd never admitted and others you'd never even realized were plain as day to him. That's how you knew he was inescapable. He knew your wiring better than you did, He knew your body's code, and how to manipulate it. Incident after incident, you slowly accepted that you weren't in control of your body. He was. You were simply an extension of him, of his will, like an instrument he could use.

But back to moving being a form of settling.

The thing was, since deep down, deeeeeeep down, all you wanted was sex, not love, a gay guy wasn't ideal for you.

Your sex crazed body, desperate to submit, searched for one thing in a man.

Power.

Power you'd have no choice but to submit to.

And who better than a chauvinistic, suburban straight man who truly believed having a cock meant there should be someone to wait on him, pick up after him, and serve him at all times?

You didn't want someone to love and understand you. You wanted someone who'd degrade you and could still have you begging for their cock. An alpha. A stern, stoic man, not a sensitive little beta boy like you.

You'd just never dreamed that was possible, he'd told you, stroking the side of your face with his hand, immobilizing you. You'd given up on it. You'd accepted that at best, you could date a gay dom. But you didn't have to settle, he'd told you. You could serve a real man now, one who was put on this earth to be obeyed, all without ever leaving your town.

So you gave up all those dreams in favor of making sure he had a hot meal on the table every night when he'd get home.

You gave up moving away. Making sure he had someone to stock his fridge and clean his house was more important.

You gave up your dream of leaving this small town, of escaping this boring place, and let him trap you in the loop of a suburban life, literally. You'd left your parents a note that you'd moved suddenly, so you couldn't leave his house in case they'd see you. But you... didn't mind at all. You felt yourself starting to love being in this town, love being a housewife.

You slowly grew to love your routine: wake up, iron his work clothes, start preparing his dinner, do his laundry, clean his house, and wait for him to come home. You'd lay his night clothes out for him, pick his dirty work clothes off the floor where he'd drop them, and get him his slippers. Then you'd serve him his dinner and hand him his dinner, which he'd read the entire time, ignoring you. Anything you said was met with a uncaring grunt. It made you want his attention more and more, cook more and more complicated meals hoping for a reaction, but always the same nonchalant responses from him, building a growing sense of desperation in you to please him. To make him happy. To know you were doing a good job...

...Which would have you in the perfect headspace for the next part of the night. You'd clean his plate, then head into thr living room, where he'd lay his huge, hairy body out on the recliner, kick his big man feet up, and wait for you to serve. You'd drop to your knees, recalling the first time he'd made you do this. He'd told you to serve your purpose. You understood completely. Your purpose was to worship, to be obedient to an alpha like him. You'd fallen to your knees, taking his foot in your mouth. They were so big. They radiated power. He looked sp right sprawled out like that, waiting to be worshipped. You kissed and licked his big, sweaty feet every night like it was the first time. They'd always been special to you. They were the first part of him you ever worshipped. They'd made you give up everything you'd ever wanted and cared about. You lived to serve them, now, and him.

When you were done with his feet you'd move up to rubbing his back and his thick, bulging biceps. They were hypnotizing. So big, like his arms were inflated. Hammers like that were the sign of a real man, so you weren't too surprised the first time your mouth drifted from them, deep in a trance, following the scent to his hairy, sweaty pits and started licking them. You'd gasped and shuddered, snapping out of it for a minute, simultaneously repulsed and entranced by the bitter taste of his sweat, but he just sat there, watching TV, knowing your repulsion would turn to lust, knowing a growing need for that taste was building within you.

You'd squirmed a little. Some part of you still struggled. For a second, you thought you had too much self-respect for this. You didn't want to be this suburban loser's pit licker. But... of course you did, you thought as your eyes fell back to his huge biceps and back down to his dark, hairy pits. They were so bushy. So manly. They demanded respect, like him. To lick his armpits was an honor. You wanted to lick his yummy, manly pits. You wanted him to know he had total control over you, that you'd do anything for him. Nothing was too humiliating. You were smacking your lips together now, sucking the taste left in your mouth down- the taste of his godly sweat. You were suddenly drooling for it, wanting to lick every drop up. You dove back into his pit, licking it all over, and cleaning his sweaty pits after you massaged his back and arms became part of your nightly ritual.

Your nightly ritual slowly got longer and longer as you became more consumed with serving him, licking every inch of his toes and pits and eventually his thick, hairy chest you'd lay your head on and feel warm and safe, sucking on his nipple while he watched tv and ignored you.

And then one night he popped his pants open, whipped his cock out, and fucked you like a ragdoll. You lost it when you saw it, mounting him instantly. For once, he smiled.

"You've learned your purpose, boy. You're ready to become mine, fully."

Hia filled you with pleasure, sending waves of relaxation through you that let him easily slid into you.

Your eyes rolled back. In that moment you were entirely broken- once a free sprit yearning to leave your town and see the world, now just another soul content to cook and clean and get fucked by some guy who didn't really care about them.

But that didn't matter. When you found a man- a master- someone with a cock like his who knows how to use it, none of that matters. Being treated well doesn't matter. Being respected doesn't matter. Only he matters. Night after night as he laid back and stared at you with his uncaring, superior gaze, stretching his feet out and arms overhead to show off his bushy pits, you saw yourself less and less as your own person snd simply as an extension of him. All he had to do was lay back like that, and you were his. A tool for his pleasure, like an appliance. Men like him could do that. They could draw you in, make you forget yourself and fill you up with your own desires till you forgot who you were at all. They could replace all your. dreans with a need to settle down and serve them. You'd always swore it'd never happen to you, but now you understood how easily it could happen, how easily a nice pair of arms and a stern voice could make your life and body theirs.

You rode him, letting him lay back while you did all the work. You spluttered and moaned, drool dripping out of your mouth and down your chest as you caught a steady rhythm, rocking back and forth on him, pulling him deeper and deeper into you. But he was pretty nonchalant, as usual, turning his attention mostly to the tv and only back to you from time to time. You just wanted him to smile, to tell you you'd done a good job, but you knew he probably wouldn't. But maybe, one day if you were good enough, he would.

Everything kind of got fuzzy once he emptied his balls into you, face still expressionless. You felt his thick cock pulsing in you, felt his hot cum filling you, and you fell forward onto his chest, face landing in his pit. His dick was still in you, still pumping you full of the last few drops of him. You shuddered and nuzzled against his hairy chest as his thick arms curled around you and your own wrapped around him inatinctively, clinging to him tight.

"Fuck me every night, sir," you gasped. "Let me please your cock like I'm meant to. Fuck me every night," you repeated over and over. You thought you'd wanted him bad before, but now you needed him. You felt your entire bosy burning with desire for him, for his cock.

He kissed your forehead and you practically melted. "See? I told you I could take you deeper. How do you like it, boy," he said, pulsing his cock in you another two or three times, watching you shudder.

"Fuck me every night, sir," was all you could say. You- who.. were... you...? But then you felt his warm body under you and you knew.

You were his slave.

That was all you ever were.

That was all you ever would be.

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Fernando/Lance

you might enjoy: Canadian Fest, eh - for more Lance content.

If your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

i won't lie to you, anon... I thought we'd agreed on Strollonso as the pairing name. 🤭 my vote still goes to Lando.

i hope you enjoy these ❗️🤍

nsfw: El Dick Plan by @waddlingpenguin | E | 800 Lawrence and Fernando have a misunderstanding at the dinner table. This fic is hilarious - unashamedly unhinged, just as Strollonso should be, and so unbelievably funny. This was one of the first Lance/Fernando fics I read. I think it rearranged my brain a little bit.

'In fact, Lance literally has his foot so far up Fernando’s pant leg that Stoffel is surprised he’s not choking on Canadian toes each time he opens his mouth to talk to the engineers.'

shatter my life apart (see me for somebody else) by @vicsy | M | 1.4k An exploration of Lance and Fernando's relationship. This is a stunning fic. This author has just the most beautiful writing style - it's like poetry, and flows in the most stunning way. This is as much a love letter to Lance as it is to Strollonso - I really, really loved this one.

'Fernando Alonso is a perpetual wildcard and Lance builds his attitude around this little image, prepared for some sort of psychological warfare but it never happens.'

nsfw: victor's spoil by venerat | E | 1.9k Following Fernando's first pole for Aston Martin, Lance is invited to his room - a Winner's Room AU. The vibes here are suitably unhinged/rancid/possessive. If I were to recommend a fic to help someone get Strollonso, to understand the essence of who they are together, I would recommend this one. I love everything this author writes.

'Imagining Fernando with them makes Lance want to chew through wire. Again: fucked up, truly and extensively. He’s just really fucked up about Fernando.'

nsfw: I make two grand an hour by @kritischetheologie | E | 3.1k Lance meets Fernando for the first time at a sponsor event. I adored this fic. It is so funny and well-characterised and hot. One thing that I really love about this author is their ability to weave in detail - you could read their fics over and over again, and still pick up something new each and every time. It just makes for the richest, most delicious stories that draw you in every last time.

'(Lance had almost just said fuck it and gone into banking when he graduated two years ago, like he’d always known he probably would eventually, ever since the day he showed up at St. Andrews and realized that the entire world economy ran on fake numbers on a half-dozen computer screens, but the whole point of trust funds was supposed to be not having to be boring. Who the fuck else was going to make art? Humanity needed him to be living dramatically, falling in love with a thousand beautiful men whose lips he could immortalize in poetry.)'

nsfw: green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine) by @vicsy | E | 9k (wip) Fernando is a crime boss caught in a long-standing feud with Lawrence Stroll - things get complicated when he meets Lance. This fic is fantastic. The vibes are unmatched. This author has such a beautiful, almost melodic writing style, which I love. Also. This is fucking hot. 10/10.

'There aren’t many opportunities Fernando deliberately missed in his life. He wouldn’t be on top if he did. Right next to him, clad in a tight white t-shirt, sits an opportunity for a power move, the one Fernando would take all the way.'

nsfw: silver platter by @wewentcarracing | E | 9.7k Lance and Fernando grow closer, much to Esteban's dismay. This is delicious. Full of unhinged and intense moments. Every word of this is perfection; something I particularly appreciate about this author is their ability to build tension - you won't be able to put this story down once you've started it. Perfection.

'Lance laughs, off-guard and delighted. Fernando has this way of deciding what's true in his own mind and then forcing it into reality with brute strength alone. He's decided that Lance will make it to the podium this year, and so he will. It feels so, so good to hear coming from another driver—any driver, really, but the fact that it’s Fernando. Two-time WDC. Veteran. It doesn't feel like he's being toyed with; it feels real.'

nsfw: Not Even Jail by @baldrmoon | E | 9.9k (wip) Lance is a rookie detective with a new partner - they've met before. This is such a fantastic start to what I know is going to be an incredible story. The world-building here is fantastic. A world away from F1, but with so many of the dynamics and relationships mirrored in a totally new setting that feels very organic and true-to-life. It's just very well done, and I am excited to see what the author does next!

'Lance was charmed almost despite himself. The guy – Fernando, Lance made a mental correction, – smiled, a bit sideways, narrowing his eyes. Lance immediately felt flustered under his intense stare.'

[eerna]

Terrified of cyborgs!? I like to think of them in a cool tech way instead of a scary robot way and trust me it’s better😂 Metal is an extension of the person rather than an attached limb

I can't. It's not like automail in FMA, where it is a piece of 20th century machinery attached as an extension. Cyborg attachments are digital, modern technology and I am terrified of digital, modern technology. It is about the idea that you replace parts of yourself with tech, and then that tech just STOPS WORKING because SOME RICH CAPITALIST needs to make money off your repairs and replacement. We already witness our phones making themselves obsolete, and THEY are our entire lives, so what is stopping tech companies from doing the same to our limbs, or even brains??? Then there is the scary fact that biological mind reading doesn't exist, but hacking and data tracking does. I don't think anyone could ever convince me to put a piece of computer inside my brain. If they invented mind reading technology, they could and would use it to sell us out. Cyborg prosthesis isn't yours the way a pegleg is, it is yours and someone else's as well. Also, digital technology is unreliable af. That part in TLC where Cinder goes swimming and it completely shuts down her literal BRAIN???? The fact that she isn't allowed to get too hot because her wires might get damaged??? THE FACT THAT SHE HAS A FORCED SHUTDOWN PROCEDURE ANYONE CAN ACCESS???? That would never happen to Edward Elric. So yeah I am not scared of robots, but cyborgs should stay in sci fi where they belong

[abibliophobiaa]

Hi my sweetest Luna love 🌙. I saw you put a call out for dad!Eddie ideas/requests. I’ve got one I’d like to propose.

In episode 8, Eddie says, “when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire.”

I feel like this would weigh heavily on Eddie when he becomes a dad, and he would want to be a good role model for his son. But, Eddie realizes he still doesn’t know about those hobbies so he enlists Wayne’s help. Cue the three generations of Munson men having cute bonding moments. :)

Gone Fishing: The Munson Men…

part two of my little mini series wherein you’re married to eddie, have a son named james, and now a daughter named quinn. features a whole lot of wayne as well. you don’t have to read part one to understand this one, but it’ll likely give some insight into background information. warnings: mentions of childbirth; newborn situations; worms being used as bait.

dad!eddie munson x afab!mom!reader. (4.2k words)

-

People say that the jump from one child to two isn’t that chaotic. That once you’re used to parenting, it becomes an extension of a normal routine.

Those people, Eddie decides, are also called liars.

He loves Quinn.

He loves his infant daughter more than words can even begin to express; hell, he cried in the hospital room like a baby himself when the doctor shouted, “It’s a girl!” and finally answered all the months of questioning who the little one growing inside your belly had been.

But, just as James had as a baby, Quinn quickly takes up both your time.

Nights of sleep become a thing of the past, and he’s quickly reminded of what the newborn stage, however wonderful, looks like. Routines shift and become endless midnight diaper changes to give you time to rest, turning over to tap your shoulder and wake you to swap shifts so you can feed her. As you lay her against your chest, he heads down to the kitchen and tries to clean up the messes from all the times she’s woken before that.

So it comes as no surprise the way James begins to grow a little frustrated with the whole ordeal. No longer the littlest Munson in the family, he’s taken up a habit of doing things out of line to garner Eddie’s and your attention.

The first week Quinn is earth side, he pitches a fit because she’s simply a girl (and he’d begged his mom and dad for a brother). He asks Eddie to “send her back to the stork.” Steve and Nancy reassure you both that it’s normal; however, they don’t warn or prepare you for the angry whining from your son when he asks to show either of you something in the middle of tending to his baby sister. Nor do they warn you that four year olds are inclined to have tantrums if either of you ask him to “wait just a minute” when he really doesn’t want to be patient at all.

So while Quinn cries, James cries, and then you cry (sleep is an elusive thing these days, so he never faults you for the changing tides of your wavering emotions)—and Eddie knows he needs to do something.

And soon.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” he asks as he enters the room.

He drops down onto the bed where you’re presently sitting against a mountain of pillows with his three week old in arm. You offer him a tired smile as he leans down to kiss Quinn’s head of dark hair.

Another very Munson looking baby, if he does say so himself.

“We’ll be fine,” you promise, sighing when his forehead rests against yours, his nose running along yours affectionately. “She’ll probably sleep most of the time you’re gone anyway. Have fun. And say hi to Wayne for me. Tell him to come by soon.”

Eddie groans, sliding down onto his stomach to marvel at his newborn daughter. Ringed fingers reach out to touch her, thumb swiping down her chubby cheek. The baby stirs within her swaddle, bleary eyes sleepily searching about for her parents.

“I just hate leaving her. What if she grows up while I’m gone? Gets her first job and goes off to college? A first boyfriend that I’ll have to murder and you’ll have to be my alibi for?”

He pouts, earning a laugh out of you for his still-present dramatic flair that’s as much a part of his DNA as the love he holds in his heart for his growing family.

Eddie watches those dark eyes as they flutter open once more and take in her father’s face, lip curling upward at the way her lips part very slightly, her tiny grunts warming him from the inside out.

“Hey, Quinnie. Daddy loves you.”

“She’s going to be just fine, and she’ll still be just as cute and little as you left her. But yes, I will be your accomplice when the time comes,” you reassure him, stroking a hand down the back of his head. He leans into the comfort, sliding his hand over yours. “Go—have fun with James and Wayne. It’s his special day, after all.”

Which is true.

Being that most of your time is spent feeding a newborn around the clock and trying to work around her inconsistent sleeping schedule, you're struggling to spend all the time you want with James.

Eddie had held you in the kitchen a few nights ago after dinner, an arm curled around your shoulders to keep you close as you sniffled against his neck, worrying you weren’t a good mother. He knew it was the hormones talking, but it ripped his heart down the middle even hearing you question how wonderful you’d been to his son and him since you’d begun dating shortly after he’d graduated high school.

“You’re taking care of a newborn,” he’d said, quieting your tears with two palms against your cheeks, and the gentle brush of his lips across every possible inch of your face. “You’re a kickass mother. The best wife—hottest too. I mean, shit, baby—”

“Eds.”

You buried your face in his chest, snorting at his compliment.

“It’s true. Can’t believe I fooled you into dating me and now having kids with me.” Your balled up fist nudged against his abdomen, earning a laugh from deep within his chest. “Quinnie is so tiny now. It’ll get easier. But I have an idea; how about I take Jim Jam for a little outing? We’ll spend time with his Pop Pop and we’ll do…Munson men things.”

Which brings him back to his current situation: lifting Quinn out of your arms to press parting kiss after parting kiss to her curly head of dark hair until her little face scrunches around her binky.

Eddie hushes her back to sleep and you nearly have to pry her out of his greedy fingers to get him to hand her back over. He watches you grin widely, inhaling her new baby smell you’re both addicted to when she’s back against your chest and nuzzling her downy forehead lovingly.

Quinn Leigh Munson has stolen his heart and he doesn’t particularly care who knows it.

With his daughter back in the cradle of your arms, Eddie leans down to brush one last kiss against your lips and Quinn’s plush cheek before calling James into the bedroom.

In scampers the four-year-old a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, his too-big rain boots scrunching with every step.

“Ready to hit the road, Jim Jam?” Eddie asks, ruffling his son’s dark curls. “Say bye to Mom and Quinnie.”

With a little help from Eddie, James crawls across the bed and presses a kiss to your cheek. You giggle airily as he curls himself around your body, close as he possibly can be, just like Eddie tends to when it’s the two of you alone at night.

“Bye, Mommy.”

The words are a smush of his face against your collarbone and forehead into your neck, one hand resting on your opposite shoulder. All wriggling movements and flailing arms that jostle the baby.

Quinn stirs within your arms, little whimpering cries beckoning James to attention as you kiss him fleetingly on the top of his head.

He’s already leaning down close to her face, a pout firmly against his full lips. “Quinnie, why are you always crying? Ugh—”

“James,” Eddie warns, catching the furrowed brow on his son’s forehead. Your eyes flicker upward, amusement bubbling despite the four-year-old’s growing annoyance. “She’s a baby. You cried a lot when you were her age too.”

“Fine,” he says with a huff.

The boy presses a kiss to his sister’s wrinkly brow and clambers back off the bed. There’s a squelch of boots on the carpet before he’s thumping into Eddie’s left hip, an arm curling around his father’s thigh to hold tight.

James’ head tips back, eyes looking into his father’s. “Can we go see Pop Pop now?”

“Yeah, buddy, we can go see Pop Pop.” Eddie takes you in once more where you sit. Tired as you are, his heart clenches violently, both because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever met and the love of his life. You lean over to snatch Quinn’s bottle from the bedside table to start another feeding. “We’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you boys. Take a ton of pictures. Jim Jam, make sure to catch me a big fish.”

“I’ll catch you the biggest fish!” He jumps up and down excitedly, head bumping against the one Eddie has left to rest against his son’s curls. “Love you, Mommy.”

-

Lover’s Lake remains untouched by the world that evening.

Most are likely at work for the evening, while students, now on summer break, mill about the arcade, that popular new roller rink in town, and the ice cream shops in the shopping square.

Eddie had taken the afternoon off—had been doing so pretty often when possible at the shop to help care for the new baby—to make sure he’d be able to give James his full attention.

The little boy in question practically launches himself out of the car when Eddie unbuckles him from his car seat, glowing at the prospect of fishing with his dad and Pop Pop, a wide smile sliding across pink lips.

At Eddie’s soft utterance of “One second, buddy,” he curls his arms loosely around Eddie’s neck so his father can draw him up against hip. The door slams shut behind him to reveal Wayne standing in the distance against his car, fishing supplies resting on the ground near his feet.

James’ hand curls into Eddie’s curly hair resting against his shoulder, eyes bright as he asks, “Can I go say hi to Pop Pop?”

Eddie nods and helps him to the ground. Grins widely as the boy takes off in a burst of energy, little legs kicking under him, arms flailing at his sides before Wayne reaches down to grab him and hike him upward into his solid chest.

James’ lyrical laughter trails up the hill as Eddie makes his way over, the lunch bag that you prepared for them bouncing against his side with every footfall—another reminder of all the ways his life has changed since you walked into it nearing six years ago now.

He remembers fond moments of sitting at this very lake with the back doors of his van spread wide, you on your back, with your skin still smelling of sunblock, looking up at him like he was the only person in the world. He remembers your fingers trailing along his skin and endless cherry chapstick kisses, whispers of love like gentle caresses long after the day turned into night, and promises of forever echoing behind both your rib cages.

Now you’re married with two children, he’s just as in love if not more so now, and the lake that had been your private sanctuary away from the rest of Hawkins is the place he’ll make new memories with your son.

The same little boy, hewn together by your love.

The same little boy with your eyes, his father’s curls, joy and love in his heart, and laughter that makes Eddie wonder how he ever got so lucky.

You chose him, you still choose him every day, and what a lovely thing it was to be so wholly loved and accepted.

-

It’s funny, Eddie thinks, that he’s never really thought about what normal things fathers and sons share together. His own hadn’t been the greatest of examples, reaching him to hotwire a car without ever teaching him how to swim or ride a bike.

And he supposes that’s been his trepidation all along about raising a son. Four years in and he still doubts himself—still questions that you’ve given him not one, but two babies to guide through life. But it’s in those moments he remembers his Uncle’s care.

The way the man now outfitting his son in a too-big fishing hat and vest shows the same kindness he instilled in him when he’d arrived on his doorstep and moved to Hawkins.

His silent reverie is broken up by James’ laughter. A high peal that breaks through the silence of Lover’s Lake. Eyes drawing upward, he catches the little boy in his bright yellow boots raising a wriggling worm to eye-level, beaming from ear to ear.

“Daddy! Look—a worm!” He’s so proud of himself, peering into the bucket beside Wayne’s tackle box, reaching down to grab another and extending it to his father. “I got one for you!”

Eddie chuckles, joining his grinning Uncle’s side as he settles their tools down on the dock. “Buddy, your mom is going to kill me. There’s dirt under your nails already.”

“I’ll wash real good, don’t worry,” he says brightly, padding over to Wayne. “Pop Pop, what do we do now?”

“Well, now we hook the worm and cast our lines.”

“The worms? But they’re my friends.” James pouts, like he can’t fathom using them as bait, and before his bottom lip can start to wobble, Eddie’s dropping down to kneel in front of him.

“So…you know how Goldy back home eats those little flakes?” he asks, speaking of the goldfish Eddie had won for his son at the Fourth of July fair.

James nods, eyes watering. He sniffles. “Yeah. His gill food.”

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, his gill food. The fish in the lake need that food too. But they need bigger food.”

“So the worms?” he asks sadly. At Eddie’s slow nod he continues, “Can I keep one?”

“Maybe,” Eddie concedes, and that’s enough to have the little boy resuming his spot at Pop Pop’s side, peering over the edge of the dock.

-

“Pop Pop?” James’ voice raises over the silence. Over the sounds of water lapping against the dock, the sounds of cicadas in the distance, the gentle chatter of birdsong.

Eddie turns to watch as his son leans into Wayne’s shoulder, gentle smile blooming along that sweet little face. Wayne cranes his neck downward, palm curling around the boy’s shoulder. “What’s it, Jim Jam?”

“What do we do now?” he asks, hands holding aloft that too-big fishing rod for his four-year-old body.

Eddie glances down at his own hands, where his own rod is resting within, turning his wedding ring round and around his finger. When his Uncle speaks once more, his head raises in piqued interest. “Well…now we wait. There’s this sayin’.”

“What’s the saying?” James asks.

“Good things come to those that wait,” Wayne says softly, brushing a thumb along James’ cheek, grinning when the little boy giggles gleefully.

“Daddy?” Eddie’s head jerks upward at the title, fondness bubbling up when his son places his fishing rod down on the dock and walks over to his father’s side. Thumps down onto the wood below to lean into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie welcomes him. Opens his arm enough for the little one to clamber into his lap, head over his father’s heart, palm curling into his ratty old Metallica tee. “What’s Pop Pop’s saying mean?”

“Well…” Eddie glances over his son’s head to look at his Uncle. Takes in his weathered features, the upturn of his lips, that comforting smile that has the tension roiling in his gut easing. “Remember when your Mommy said Quinnie was in her belly and you were so excited.”

“Yeah!” He giggles when Eddie’s fingers slide down to tickle his ribs, his father’s arms winding tighter around his smaller form.

“Remember how it took a long long long time before Quinn came?” Eddie asks, grinning softly when James dips his head. “And remember how it was so worth it, because now our family is even bigger? Well—fishing is like that. You have to wait until a fish is ready, but when it is…it’s worth it.”

“Oh…” His son dips his head once more. Those round eyes meet his father’s once more. “Daddy, can I have juice now?”

Conversation over, he supposes. About right for James’ attention span. Eddie laughs, heart warming at the fleeting nature of a four year old mind. Reaches into the cooler sitting near his hip on the dock to pull out a juice box. His fingers work swiftly to open the plastic wrapper, slipping the straw into the top before handing it to the boy. “Always, buddy.”

–

“You’re doin’ a good job, son. I know you don’t always feel like it, but ya are. And I'm proud of ya.”

Eddie doesn’t expect those words. Doesn’t know what to do with them really. For years his own father regarded him as little. Never cared for his hobbies, likes, interests. Barely paid attention to him most days. And then he’d up and left. Packed up his stuff and walked away from his wife, his son, the life he once knew. Made Eddie wonder if love was this abstract thing. Made him wonder if he deserved it at all.

Then, his mother had passed and he’d been sent to live with Wayne in this home that didn’t really feel like home. He’d taken him under his wing and loved him as best as he could. Showed him patience and love when Eddie had only known dismissiveness and passivity.

And then he’d met you. You with your bright smiles and that endless well of affection. He’d shied away from it at first. Pretended it meant nothing; tucked you away in his mind and pursued you under the guise of friendship. But you’d coaxed him out of the shadows into the light, tended to him and waited as he opened his heart to you, just as Wayne had, and made him question if he’d been wrong all along.

Maybe love wasn’t this abstract thing. Maybe it was something all were entitled to. Something all were deserving of. And that love had grown, had grown into two little souls that shared his heart. Two little souls made up of half his DNA. Two souls who looked to him for guidance, for affection, for a firm foundation to stand on.

He didn’t want to mess it up for his own kids. Wanted them to know every day how much he loved them, how he’d do anything for them, how he’d love his family in the way he’d never known growing up.

“You’re goin’ a good job,” Wayne reiterates, curling a palm around his nephew’s shoulder.

Draws him back to his present reality. In the distance, James talks to his new worm friends still wriggling around in the bucket Wayne had brought along. Promises he’ll take them home and his mom will take care of them. Eddie has yet to remind his son that he and his worm friends will have to part at the end of the day. Instead, he turns to his uncle and smiles, chest blooming with something foreign. An emotion that wells behind his eyes—fills his throat with a tightness he can’t seem to swallow around.

He clears his throat, brushing at his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“That boy loves you, son,” Wayne says, glancing out toward where James is now holding aloft one of his new friends. His head of curly dark hair tips to the side, mouth moving rapidly, likely telling a story like his own father does for him every night before bed. “Hell, I think half of parentin’ is figurin’ things out on the way. I mean, I didn’t know what I was doin’ with you and now here you are. A fine mechanic and a manager at the shop at that, a husband, and a damn good father. To not one, but two babies now. Your Momma would be so happy if she could see you now.”

Eddie glances back over to his son with tears swimming in his eyes. Watches that head of curly hair turn his way. The way his son’s lips curl upward at the sight of him, like he can’t contain the happiness of merely seeing his own father. And Eddie smiles back. Waves as his heart clenches within his chest. Because inside that little boy beats part of his own heart, and anyone can see from looking at James that he’s thriving.

That he’s happy and loved.

And Eddie knows, without a doubt, that he’s doing a damn good job.

-

You’re in the kitchen when Eddie returns. Little Quinn is resting in a sling against your chest as you work to put away newly cleaned dishes while a pot of noodles cook on the stovetop.

Eddie’s shouting he’s home as James rushes into the house, cooler thumping against his shorter thighs. Nearly smacks into your legs just as you hoist him up onto your free hip, somehow managing to not wake the baby in the process.

“Mommy, I caught the biggest fish!” He announces proudly, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. “And when Quinnie is big enough, I’m gonna teach her how to catch one too!”

He swoops down to kiss his baby sister. Tells her he loves her against the soft curls at her forehead.

Eddie laughs brightly, sauntering into the kitchen to lean against the counter nearest you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Drops down lower to kiss Quinn’s head of dark hair. She stirs in the wrap, little noises of contentment filling the air, before she settles back down in her sleep.

“Did you, Jim Jam?” You ask him, eyes wide in your curiosity.

“Yes! And daddy helped. He had to fight the fish. But he won!”

Your eyes dart to Eddie’s, bouncing James higher up onto your hip. “Is that so?”

Eddie’s fingers card through James’ hair, lips pressing against his son’s temple. “I helped him reel it in.”

Your mouth drops open in overly dramatized shock, and James’ eyes light up before the both of you. Eddie swears right then and there he wants another baby (but he’ll ask you later, when Quinn’s not attached to you for feedings every two hours).

“Well…can I see this monstrous fish that the two of you had to fight to bring home?”

And there, in the little cooler, resides the smallest fish you’ve likely ever seen.

But damn, if Eddie’s not happier than he’s ever been in his life.

That feeling bleeds over into the evening. He rides that lovely peak until James and Quinn are finally put to bed, the house silent at last, save for the sound of your quiet breathing beside him in your bed.

“I love you, you know?” He says softly, brushing his hand over the curve of your waist.

Your hips shift backward against his, and he curls his other arm tighter around your form. Draws you nearer. “I love you, too. I’m happy you all had fun today.”

“Can you look at me for a second?” His voice is quiet. Shaky. You roll over at the broken timbre of his voice, hands coming up to thumb along both of his cheeks. At the brush of your lips against his, he continues, “Thank you.”

“For what, honey?”

He drops his forehead into yours. Inhales shakily. “I don’t know. Loving me. Giving me this family. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I’m grateful you picked me to do it with.”

“Eddie…” You wrap your arms tight around him. Hold his head against your chest where he focuses on the calming beat of your heart inside. “You’re a wonderful husband, an amazing son, and an incredible father. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You punctuate each word with a kiss against his crown, fingers brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“We are so lucky to have you.”

And he smiles. Truly and honestly smiles against your chest, palms splaying over your hips, holding you close.

Because maybe he’s not perfect. Maybe neither of you are. You’re learning together what it means to parent as you navigate this new and unfamiliar territory—as both your babies grow and change and learn. But you’re doing it together and will be forever.

It brings him peace.

And later, when Quinn wakes with a shrill cry, and Eddie pulls her writhing body against his chest to try and soothe her with kisses to her brow, he recalls a conversation he had with Wayne earlier that evening.

“I just have one question?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do with my daughter when she grows up? She’s so little now. But shit—a girl?”

There’s a pause. “How’s your aim?”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, stirring from where you lay in bed, still tired from Quinn’s earlier feeding.

“Go back to sleep. I've got her.” Eddie draws her into the crook of his elbow, resting her against his chest. She wrinkles her features in another weaker cry, fists shaking in her anger as he rocks her gently. Soon enough the wailing subsides. Those tired eyes of her open to briefly take in her father’s face before shutting once more, mouth working over the bottle he slips into her parted lips, sighing happily into his skin. “Isn’t that right, Quinnie? Daddy’s always got you.”

-

-

[freetheshit-outofyou]

My 17yo asked me what was the most unique way I had ever had food made for me. Keep in mind I come from 2 generations of Chefs, a long long line of foodies and resturanteurs. Add to that I've lived in or been to 21 countries and 42 states, so my list of food expectances is lone and varied. (Side note: I was apprenticing under my uncle to also be a chef until I cut a section of my left index finger off and went a direction I thought would be safer, I joined the Army.) The one that stands out most in my mind is in El Salvador/Honduras. This area was in dispute, El Salvador claimed it in the day and Honduras claimed it in the night. Even the damned GPS didn't know who really owned that boarder area. Just walking it would show you in both places. Anyway, this particular spot had an extensive thermal venting area. There were natural hot springs and active vents all over the place and the local folks used it in many cool and surprising ways, the best one for me was cooking. In some cases they had built diversions to move the water to the river and cool it for outstanding mineral soaking pools. They had a whole system of pipes that went into the homes to give scalding hot water for cleaning and cook but it was also used like a radiator for heat in the cooler months. Other places they had build steel cages that they would dip into the vents to cook things whole. Chickens and other small livestock were often cooked that way. They would open corn on the cob, spice it, then wire the husk back shut and flash boil the corn. OMG it was so damned good and the chicken and pork was to die for. Honestly, eating food made from vents on the side of a dormant volcano in a section of the world that was in active dispute is the top of my foodie list.

[moralesmilesanhour]

another dimension.

summary: Miles pays Margo a visit. wc: 970-ish a/n: this mad short but I got rlly busy !! You'll definitely get long3er flowerbyte stuff in the future tho

Margo’s room was so cluttered she couldn’t think.

She’d been letting clothes and unfinished gadgets pile up on the floor and around her desk until you couldn’t even open the door all the way. The realization hit her when she lost a piece of the old vintage radio that Gwen had gifted her to tinker with, and it took her an hour to finally locate it by the foot of her bed.

Margo sat at its edge, re-organizing her gadgets into boxes by size. It made more sense to her than by type or function; when she was restoring an old iPod or laptop, she wouldn’t think, “Where’s the box for tools dedicated to x, y, and z,” she’d be thinking, “Where the fuck is that tiny thing that you need to turn on this other thing?”

At the bottom of one of her hot pink organizers, beneath a tangle of extension cords, Margo felt a round piece of metal. Her fingers brushed over what felt like buttons, and they closed around the mystery device to free it. 

It was…oh.

Margo could’ve sworn she had put all of her polaroids and souvenirs in the ‘memories’ box. The memory in question was only a few months old, sure, but it was a memory nonetheless. After Spider Society dissolved, there was no reason for her to use it. At any rate, she had cyber-crimes to stop right here, at her own computer.

Still, she did miss Gwen bringing her old smartphones and wired headphones. 

And him.

Margo didn’t like to think about him. Not by any fault of his, but because if she visualized the look he gave her as she tried to send him home, then suddenly those owlish eyes would appear in places they were not supposed to. Then, she would begin to imagine that she saw someone with the same afro pass her on the street, or swear that she heard his voice and wonder if he took his watch with him and kept it.

Margo’s watch was off, but it remained largely intact after The Spot. She stared at it for a moment, before gingerly snapping it around her wrist. She turned it this way and that, letting it catch the dim light of her desk lamp. 

E-1610. 

Margo had the right dimension this time, all she had to do was just–

She shook her head, hastily taking it off and tossing it back into the box. Now she remembered why the watch had been left there in the first place. 

But it was too late, and the image of him grinning at her returned. As she knelt on the floor and resumed her organizing, her mind had begun to weave together a conversation.

Miles would greet her with a “hey”, and she’d “hey” back. Ask him how his parents took the news after everything went back to normal. He’d say he’s grounded, and it’d sound like the funniest thing in the world coming from him. She’d ask him about his hobbies (Miles looked like a gamer), and he would ask about hers. She’d lie and say she didn’t have time for any, and he’d laugh.

“I hear that,” he’d say.

She wondered if her imagination had conjured him up when that familiar flash of blinding light appeared where her closet was and became a spinning portal. 

Margo almost didn’t recognize him when he pulled back his hoodie and took the mask off. The high-top fade was gone, replaced by a head of shoulder-length locs that coiled at the ends. But she’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to locate her words, which made Miles stifle a laugh.

“Miles?”

“Don’t know who else I’d be. Got a minute?”

Slowly reaching back into that same box, Margo breathed, 

“Yeah, I…I got a minute.”

“So you’re only Spider-Man when you got the VR thing on?”

Miles called out as he shot another web and catapulted himself off of the roof of a moving truck, and Margo did the same. They landed right on top of Lenny’s Deli, from which they could see a bit of the horizon dotted with skyscrapers in the distance, right where the setting sun started to roll back some of its orange and give way to a wash of coral.

“Pretty much,” Margo answered, catching her breath. “You smell that?”

“Beef patties.”

“I haven’t had one of those in months.”

Miles’ mask squinted mischievously at the eyes. “You want me to get you one, huh?”

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to–”

“I insist!” 

Miles was already in the process of swinging down to street level. She shook her head and smiled, sitting with her legs crossed in the meantime.

He was back in a matter of minutes, mask rolled up halfway so that he could carry the brown paper bag from the deli between his teeth as he hauled himself over the ledge where Margo sat. 

He opened it and removed his portion before handing the bag to her, but stopped short.

“Hol’ on, can you even eat?”

She threw her head back and laughed.

“You didn’t think about that before you spent your money there?”

“Well, you can take it back with you, probably,” he said as he let her take the bag from him. 

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence as only Miles ate his food, watching the world below. Nobody appeared to be committing a robbery at the moment, so Margo eventually broke the silence first.

“So why’d you bring me over here, new guy?”

Miles snorted, “You know I’ve been doing this for almost two years now, right?”

“Well, you’re new to me.”

He leaned back on his elbows and hummed thoughtfully.

“Maybe I’d like to not be so new to you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

[iamthekaijuking]

Gigabash character overview: Woolley

It’s pretty common for media to have at least one adorable and marketable character, and Passion Republic Games have one for Gigabash. Being one of the four initial kaiju developed, Woolley was made to be cute and likable. He even had a promotional plush of his S-class form sold in the lead up to the game’s release!

Woolley is a slightly more defensive character with some quick movement options, a counterattack move, and two attacks that are impossible to block and require good timing to stop. He’s got a high skill ceiling and pulling off extensive combos can be tricky. But like with every character in Gigabash’s roster, he’s deadly in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing.

Design

PRG took awhile to get a good design to settle on with Woolley, as they wanted him to be cute and likable all around and have a simple silhouette that was easily recognizable. Like Gorogong and Pipijuras, he went through multiple design revisions.

While there’s no direct statement on if any particular kaiju inspired Woolley’s design, he does bear a passing resemblance to another popular Tsuburaya icon: Booska.

Lore

Woolley is just one member of a species of kaiju known as the Yetis, peaceful kaiju who live in herds where they sleep and play all day and subsist entirely on Giga Energy. The reports on his character file actually give us insight into the evolution of his species, and how kaiju might evolve in the world of Gigabash.

Yetis are descendants of a small mammal with thick fur that migrated to the Himalayas sometime in the Pleistocene Epoch. Here they also used local hot springs to help stay warm, but these hot springs were connected to underground veins of Giga Energy. As they were gradually exposed to the substance, they slowly became larger and larger over subsequent generations and came to rely less and less on food for energy. In only a few million years they became 120 ton titans. They remained there until near modern day, and for the local humans it was common practice to go and collect shed Yeti fur to be used in the creation of coats.

At some point though, these Giga Energy veins ran dry, and this forced them to search for a new home. At least some of them migrated to a remote place in Siberia surrounded by mountains that has been dubbed the Yeti Sanctuary, and is rich with hot springs and Giga Energy. It even has an entrance to the hollow earth! The same one Pipijuras uses in his story mode too.

Woolley’s story mode revolves around him getting lost and trying to get home. One day he sees planes flying overhead and follows them out of curiosity, but gets lost in the process.

In his effort to go home he actually goes the opposite direction of where he came and gets increasingly distracted on his adventure, ping ponging across the world and interrupting the events of Pipijuras and Gorogong’s story modes.

It’s during this story mode we learn about a somewhat important location and information about the Yetis, another kaiju we’ll eventually get to, and kaiju as a whole in the world of Gigabash.

The area, which is one of the maps, is the Power Station, a section of Area 51 which seeks to figure out how to properly harness Giga Energy. As you’re aware, humanity has been trying to harness Giga Energy, but they’re having difficulties. Like with almost all of humanity’s power sources, in order to get electricity out of it you need to figure out a way to get it to turn a turbine that can spin a magnet around some electrical wires. This gets electrons flowing and thus generates electricity, and this is the basic principle of creating usable electricity. Apparently it’s hard to get Giga Energy to do this safely, although what part of the process is difficult to do with Giga Energy is never said. Only Otama Tec has figured out how to get this to work with the creation of their Gigatron Reactor, and they’re not keen to share their discoveries for reasons we’ll get to in the next overview. So the Global Titan Defense Initiative, being the dickwads they are, did a little corporate espionage and stole the blueprints of an earlier more theoretical version of the Gigatron Reactor and created the Power Station to test it out and improve it. It uses Giga Crystals (again, we’ll get to it) as the main source of Giga Energy, but kaiju can apparently be used as well since in his story mode Woolley gets captured and chained up to meet this fate. However, the Power Station is riddled with issues in no small part due to the sheer power of Giga Energy. It’s so dangerous that the GTDI makes any employees working there unsubscribe from their life insurance because of course they would do that.

As Woolley travels around the world, he meets entirely new herds of Yetis on his travels in every major location he stops at. These Yetis all have different colorations than Woolley and his herd, and are described as subspecies. It’s pretty likely that when the Yetis migrated from the Himalayas, the population split up in their search for sources of Giga Energy, and these different populations diverged from each other. They aren’t entirely isolated though as a few are aware of each other’s existence and point Woolley in each other’s direction, and it seems that Yetis as a whole have a shared language.

This brings us to something that’s never really explicitly stated but is shown to us and is obvious in hindsight; the kaiju in the world of Gigabash are sapient. The game is a party fighting game so obviously they would have to be smart in universe in order to have battle strategies and know how to use city infrastructure as tools and weapons as the player demands, but it’s one of those things where you realize it and go “Oh, yeah that makes a lot of sense… why didn’t I realize it until now?”. The Yetis in particular have even learned how to use fire, although they use burning vehicles as fuel instead of dry wood.

This shot also shows that Yetis can go bald. Like and reblog this post to slap the elder yeti’s bald head.

Woolley’s story concludes with him staying focused and retracting his steps (which gives us a lot of fun pictures) and eventually finding his way home.

There is of course one last fight, but it turns out that the other Yetis he met decided to follow him, and end up helping in defending his home. Afterwards they end up integrating with the Siberian herd quite well! Even though Woolley spent his story trying to get back to his family, it’s sweet to know that his efforts gave him an even bigger one.

All in all, Woolley is a great character and is a fun and adorable addition to Gigabash’s roster, and his story mode is sweet.

Also I don’t really know where else to put this but lore tidbit: in the Gigabash universe it’s implied the Soviet Union fell but Russia is still a communist country unlike the capitalist IRL Russia. They’re a dictatorship like IRL Russia though.

[blackcatgreengrape]

rick sanchez with old man glasses… with glasses that he wears for long nights and early mornings, wire framed, glare lens, slightly worn in glasses. the type he wears for hours, hellbent over his work desk, his brows furrowed and his nose indented by the pads that hold his frames up. the type he wears when reading over hot coffee, the lenses fogging up when he pulls the mug towards his lips to kiss it empty. the type of glasses he wears during lazy days, hogging up the couch and watching hours upon hours of interdimensional tv. he figures if he’s going to be lazy- there’s no excuse to extensively damage his eyesight because of it. the type of glasses he pushes up to the top of his head, simultaneously pulling back to the overgrown strands of his hair while he eats you out. holding down your legs, the tips of his fingers bruising your inner thighs and furiously grunting into your cunt, while the reflection of yourself is seen through the lenses, tired and vulnerable, teeth biting down on your puffed up bottom lip. he’s hungry, starved. and even in this moment- without any aid- he reads through you completely.