#i have assignments but this is what i did instead

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sgt-tombstone]

y’all don’t mind if I ramble about a fic idea that’s been knocking around in my head for a while but will never get written, do you?

cool

it’s a grumpy-and-sunshine-professor AU where Simon is a history professor studying the history of death and Johnny is a professor of chemistry studying pyrotechnics. They both have fierce reputations within their departments; Johnny for being a lenient grader and an excellent teacher, and Simon for being a complete hardass

They’re secretly married to each other, but no one ever takes classes with both of them, so there hasn’t ever been a student that has found out. Johnny talks about his husband constantly, never by name, but his computer background is a picture of two unmistakably masculine hands with matching rings, obviously a wedding photo, and he usually starts class with a little story about something funny that his husband did the day/night before. It’s well-known that his husband is blond, massive, and an utter sweetheart. They obviously adore each other, if the weekend date stories that he tells are any indication (always innocent, of course)

Simon, on the other hand, never talks about his personal life at all. He starts class on the dot, getting straight to the point without any fanfare or chitchat. He’s a man of few words, and he uses them well and efficiently. He wears a ring on a necklace, and it sometimes slips out of his shirt during lecture, but no one dares ask (stories are told of the one student who did, and got a glare so acidic that he had dropped the class on the spot)

Then along comes (insert OC’s name here), who is a biology student focusing on infectious diseases. Johnny is her advisor and she adores him (not in that way, she’s a lesbian and he’s obviously besotted with his husband). She had him for her introductory chemistry classes and he was the only reason she passed; she’s trusted his judgment and advice implicitly ever since. So when she asks what class she should take for her required history elective, he recommends a class called The History and Impacts of the Black Death, and it sounds right up her alley but the professor listed gives her pause. She’s heard of Dr. Riley, of course; nearly everyone on campus has heard the stories of traumatized history majors avoiding Dr. Riley’s classes (ironically) like the plague. But she trusts Dr. MacTavish, so she registers anyway.

The class is tough. In her opinion, it’s way too difficult for an elective class, especially on top of her other upper level science classes, but she hasn’t gotten this far without knowing how to step up to a challenge, and Dr. Riley’s scathing feedback on her first assignment has her digging her heels in instead of throwing in the towel. The topic is interesting; she’d never really looked into the history of infectious diseases, and the Black Death is morbidly fascinating. She struggles a bit with the historical aspects of the class at first, especially when Dr. Riley expects his students to already have a firm grasp on Medieval history and she very much does not, but she’ll never pass up an opportunity to do some external research to catch up to where the rest of the class—populated mostly by history majors—is in their studies.

Towards the end of the semester, close to the end of November, the student’s mother finds out about her girlfriend and kicks her out late at night. With nowhere else to go, she remembers that Dr. MacTavish is both openly gay and has invited groups of students to his house for club meetings and field trips. It’s a little awkward, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, so she walks to his house in the rain. When she knocks on the door, Dr. MacTavish answers with clear concern, and he waves her inside quickly. She explains her situation, panicking about the entire thing because she’s standing in her advisor’s house at 10pm, her parents have just cut her off, and she’s scared and wet. Dr. MacTavish calls into the other room, presumably to his husband, asking for a towel.

The last person she expects to round the corner is Dr. Riley, holding a fluffy towel and an expression equally as concerned as Dr. MacTavish’s. His husband.

She has to sit down.

They sit and talk as she dries off and warms up. Johnny makes her a cup of hot chocolate while Dr. Riley—Simon—builds a fire in the fireplace. She huddles close to it as they talk, and she eventually ekes the story out of them; how they met, how they hated each other at first, how they fell in love. Simon is talkative and animated, drawing energy from the man sitting beside him, and the student finds herself enchanted by the two of them, the side of her professors that she never gets to see. It should feel like a breach of privacy, a line crossed, but it feels like staying up late with her uncles. They make up the guest bedroom for her and all go to bed, reminded that they all have class tomorrow.

The student ends up staying with some friends, couch-surfing in their apartment until she can get her feet back under her, but she spends several nights a week at the Riley-MacTavish household, delving into the intricacies of infectious diseases and their connection to society with Simon. She enjoys the friendly arguments the two professors get into and often chooses sides arbitrarily to keep them on their toes. She switches her advisor from Johnny to Simon (Johnny pretends to be upset, but he’s secretly overjoyed that Simon is connecting so well with a student), and ends up writing a thesis paper under his tutelage.

Idk how it’s gonna end yet, maybe with a far future scene where she sees the two of them at a conference and throws herself at them, wrapping them both in massive hugs. It earns her several very odd stares, especially from those who know Dr. Riley’s reputation, but she doesn’t care. They were there for her in the darkest night of her life, and she’ll always have a soft spot for both of them

[lostintransist]

I can't keep doing this to myself...

My brain spit out an idea at me that I don't want to lose so you get to suffer with me under the weight of this idea until I have the time space energy ADHD hyperfocus to start on it.

This is not edited. Goal is to get the thought out of my head, not to make it perfect.

So imagine for me if you will that in some version of the stories for whatever reason I can bullshit into making sense Simon is selected to undergo a new and experimental form of trauma therapy. Used she/her here but when I write it pronouns will be you/yours

He hates it but orders are orders and after losing Johnny (his best mate, his lover, the other half of his soul) he would do just about anything to crawl from under the weight of the grief and guilt. Accepting the assignment means being put under sedation regularly for anywhere from six months to a year. During the sedation your active mind will remian awake and will begin to interact with a simulation that will help deal with the traumas exisiting in his body and mind.

Simon, not 100% on board, accepts the assignment but when he wakes up in some of his worst memorires ignores the woman following him from scene to scene, offering help. Every time he cowers as a child she offers a hand. Each time he bites back the fear flooding his system on a battlefield she offers to take the bullet instead.

For months he ignores her, trying to defeat his demons on his own. This was his mind and his body dammit, he could do this.

She stops offering help but doesn't leave. Trailing behind him in his memories Simon always finds flowers strewn in his footsteps. He never bothered to learn her name. When her laughter starts to haunt his dreams he watches her instead of his memories.

Whoever had programed this simulation had taken great care in creating a realistic interaction point. She makes ugly faces before she sneezes in the barns he has hid in, always complains about hayfever. Her ring finger on her right had been broken before, he can tell from the slight bend between the second and third knuckle. Every time he entered the simulation she wore something different, sometimes tugging on pants as if they wouldn't stay up.

"What should I call you?"

"Mmm?" She looks up from a book she had pulled down from a shelf in a dilapidated kitchen. "Oh, I'm not real so you can call me whatever you want."

He stared at her, frustrations mounting.

"Back to the silent treatment? Okay, this recipe looks actually really yummy," she turns to look back to the book.

Simon stalks up and snatches it from her hands. There is actually handwritten recipes. For some reason this makes Simon's rage double. How? How could this be real? He never opened a book in this kitchen. All that happened here was patching his wounds while waiting for exfil.

Their pattern continues like that until his brain finally spits out Johnny's death. He had been so, so careful to never let that memory come up. When it does Simon is so blindsided that when she offers to help he finally accepts.

Not knowing what to expect from this interaction did not prevent Simon from being surprised at how she handled it. She started to hum as she froze the memory, touching and moving pieces and people until everything had rewound a few moments.

"You have to sit it in, this pain. Talk to him. Tell him everything you didn't get a chance to. The longer you can sit in the agony the sooner it will find peace." She takes him by the hand and pulls him to his love.

Simon cries, like the young boy who needed safety and only found hate or indifference. Through blubbering sobs he tells Johnny every word he regretted hording. When Johnny hugs him back, mouth moving and voice saying things Simon had only dreamed of he found a semblenece of peace.

When his heartrate returns to normal and the only proof this interaction happened is the hollow space in his chest where Johnny will continue to exist his compaion steps back from Johnny, appearing as if from the dust.

"I think that is enough today. You did good." Turning on her heel she walks away, disappearing into the folds between memories.

Simon had never seen her leave before, he always ended the sessions before she had a chance.

He lets her help then, this nameless woman. They conquer every memory and the vaguest notions of memories that bother him. This intensive work paired with his weekly therapy leaves his with the skills to deal with the nightmares, the PTSD, and the trauma that still manifests from time to time.

Can one fall in love with a figment of imagintion? Simon thinks he might have. The final session he confesses, brushing his lips against hers as she sobs.

"But I'm not real. Simon, you can't love me I'm not real."

"Johnny's not real either anymore. I still love him. I'll keep you in my bones next to him, both of you keeping me safe."

She runs then, between memories and fears until she disappears and ends the sesion.

Simon, upon requesting more sessions, is informed that he has completed the program and all his care is being turned over to the non-intensive team that his therapist is a part of. Oh she shouldn't have argued with him or cut off their sessions. Now he knows she is real, the woman the knocked around his brain and fought back the demons for him.

Now all he had to do? Find her.

For anything I am currently working on check out my masterlist. This is getting dropped into my drabbles for later.

[lovscb97]

synopsis: nerd!chan headcannons. that’s it. that’s the tweet.

tags: nerd!chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, fluff, meet cute, nerd!chan being in love, mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, nerd!chan being an inexperienced cutie, etc

wc: 1.48k

add. notes: while you guys wait for nerd!chan pt. 2 as i need to complete writing it and cannot really Do that w/ my current busy schedule (im nearing the end of first sem so i have lots of assignments #sad), i thought i’d treat u guys to some headcannons about him in the nerd!chan universe :3 enjoy!

pt. 1 / pt. 2 (coming soon!)

. . . 

#one. meeting you for the first time

chan has always been a shy kid. he doesn’t stray from his introverted bubble of close friends that he’s either grown up with or gotten to know through extra-curriculars, nor does he ever participate in social activities like parties the way most people in his university do. it’s his firm belief that he has no means to engage in stuff that will, in his words, lower his intelligence and distract him from his studies. he’s perfectly content remaining the way he is; a social outcast (according to changbin at least), because at the least in that sense he’s gaining something from not wallowing in alcohol every other night.

you, on the other hand, are actively always taking part in gatherings as such, having fun with your cheer girls and drinking to drown out the bitter reality of life (although you’d never admit that out loud). it’s your firm belief that college is for letting loose and having fun before entering the corporate world, and what better way to do that than to grind against strangers and throw away all your responsibilities for a night (or ten)? you don’t have too much regard for your studies, but you do have a strong policy on your social life.

it’s because of these reasons that in terms of both hierarchy and hobbies, you and chan couldn’t be any more different. you’re two sides of two separate coins, and if you were to swap lifestyles, you’re sure neither of your friends would recognise you both. what he likes, you loathe, and what you like, he loathes. so why did you do mesh so well? why did you two even begin this charade? 

and how in the everloving fuck did chan even get to know you in the first place? 

it all started before the first day of the first semester. orientation was about to finish right around the corner, and everyone was obviously buzzing with excitement on commencing their first term in university. one guy made the mistake of mentioning throwing a party at some nearby club, and it quickly spread to the entire group of first year students. naturally, it spread to you and your friend group, and it also just happened to spread to the small circle of chan’s best friends, who dragged his ass to the party the day of despite his incessant complaining that he wanted nothing to do with what was happening.

that was, until he saw you.

you’d had one too many shots to drink, stumbling into the balcony after having been separated from your friends and coincidentally landing up where chan just so happened to be admiring the scenery. he’d caught you in his arms as you lost your footing, heart racing and ears reddening at the sound of your drunk giggles. “i bet you’re a ladies man.” you’d teased him, raising a finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which only made him stutter even more. 

your friends eventually did come to find you and take you back with them, barely even batting an eye at chan who tried to make sure you were being cared for properly as his pleas and tips on handling a hangover the next day fell upon deaf ears. and when jisung and changbin came up to find him, he was completely out of it, stuck in a daze as he repeated all the random information about yourself that you’d rambled to him in his head. he’d pressed a single hand to his chest whilst ignoring his friend’s questions about what the hell he was doing, instead focusing on the feeling the rapid rhythmic beating of his heart under his palm.

it was that night, that chan's love for the moon transcended to his love for you.

#two. kissing you for the first time

chan is just as much of a nerd as they come in every cliche. 

when he met you, when he got to know you, and when he first began whatever twisted relationship he currently has with you, he was completely inexperienced. he knew next to nothing about pleasing a girl that wasn’t acquired from his knowledge of scouring the internet, and he also knew next to nothing about the world of pleasure he was in for. when you’d first leaned in to initiate a kiss, he’d merely pushed you away gently, gasping over his words as he tried to explain to you how new this was all to him.

but you didn’t mind. you didn’t mind that he’d never even gotten close to holding a girl’s hand unless he counted his elementary school crush, and you didn’t mind that he barely knew what to do with you. you didn’t mind that you had to teach him the ropes of everything (mostly because it fed into your corruption kink), and you didn’t mind it even when you had to reassure him you weren’t going to judge him as you got him to relax before leaning in once more.

and when your lips had touched his for the first time, chan swore he felt sparks fly. you were soft, and sweet, and real. instead of being a mere figment of his imagination or the skin of the back of his hand, your presence was electrifying. the way your mouth had moved against his, the way you’d let out a soft sigh at the feeling of it pressing back into him, and the way you’d pulled away and flashed him the prettiest smile he’d ever damn seen in his life before, it was all so dizzying. 

“you’re a pretty good kisser.” you’d winked at him afterwards, and he felt himself flush under your gaze which only made you double over in laughter. you’d even leaned in once more to plant another soft kiss on his lips before motioning for him to continue with whatever demand and supply topic he was teaching you about. chan didn’t give a fuck about that anymore though, the only thought on his mind the entirety of the rest of your study session how to get better at kissing you, and when he could look forward to doing it the next time.

#three. what he likes about you

if anyone asked chan what he likes about you, he’d be at a complete loss for words. not because there’s nothing he can come up with beyond superficial reasons, but because there’s too much that he has to say and isn’t sure of where to actually start.

chan isn’t even sure when he fell for you in the first place. yes, when he first met you that fated night on the balcony at that premature freshmen party he caught feelings for you, but those feelings snowballed and grew into something much larger as the days went on. each night was filled with replaying your conversation (although he barely spoke out of his shock upon seeing you) and wondering what it would be like to be in your presence once more. it got to the point that his friends began asking him why he was spacing out so much during classes and staring at one specific section of the lecture hall, but he didn’t have the courage to admit it was because of you sitting there. 

to simply put it, chan likes everything and nothing about you. he likes the fact that you’re nobody like he’s ever met before, you have a fire to yourself that nobody comes close to claiming, but you laugh sweet enough to extinguish that flame at the same time. something about you draws him in, tantalising and captivating in nature but all too consuming to the point he can’t get you out of his brain no matter how hard he tries. the time you came up to him to ask if he’d help you with tutoring, his mind almost short circuited because holy shit, were you actually talking to him in real life instead of the made up interactions he plays out with you before going to sleep? and you knew his name and who he was on top of that? it was too good of a dream to be true.

that’s precisely why chan can’t let go of you now. even if it hurts him, even if it’s painstakingly hard to be hidden from the public eye whilst being together with you, he doesn’t want to let go of you. because letting go of you entails that he’s giving up on his aspirations of being with you, and chan is nothing next to a quitter. he’ll have you in any way he can, even if that means not abiding by his friends’ requests to just let you go and being kept in the dark by your lack of confrontation for your feelings.

at the end of the day, chan is head over heels for you, and that’s something that’ll never change. 

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[iced-coffee-jesus]

Buddie prompt: Buck helps chaperone one of Christopher’s dates (like instead of Marisol in 7x01). Realizations are had - maybe they get blindsided because the kid assumes Buck is the cool stepdad or something?

I'm so sorry that this took a week @linus-lucy ! And what a week it's been too! This fic got a little away from at the end and definitely leans a little on the crack side, but I hope you enjoy it!

“And here is your popcorn, good sir.” Buck bowed, placing the popcorn on the coffee table in front of Christopher and Penny. “We have an excellent selection of grape or orange soda, what would the lady prefer?”

Penny laughed, while Chris looked at him with eyes that were just begging him to leave them alone already. “Grape, please Mr. Diaz.”

“He’s Mr. Diaz, you may call me Buck. Grape soda, coming right up.” He said with an air of formality, turning back to the kitchen to grab the soda before joining Eddie on the other couch. Chris hit play on the movie, an Assassin’s Creed film whose plot Buck was unable to follow. Eddie elbowed him fifteen minutes into the movie, nodding his head towards where Penny’s hand laid on Chris’s arm. Buck rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Eddie in an attempt to bring his attention back to whatever was happening on screen.

“Calm down.” Buck murmured, leaning in a little closer so he wouldn’t get hushed by the teens on the other couch.

“We should have let them watch it by themselves, this is too awkward.” Eddie hissed back, catching side-eye from Christopher at the sound.

“This is too awkward? How did you handle giving him The Talk?”

“Dad.” Chris sighed, his full attention on them now. “Don’t you and Buck still have that paperwork to fill out?”

“Paperwork?” Penny asked, pausing the movie. Buck suppressed an eye roll, already knowing it was a losing cause to fight either Diaz on this.

“Yes! We do actually, firefighter paperwork, gotta get it finished by tomorrow. Come on, Buck.” He choked on a laugh as Eddie practically dragged him off the couch and into the kitchen. “Don’t wait for us, go ahead and finish the movie!”

“Smooth, Eddie, smooth. Almost as smooth as Chris’s ‘paperwork’ excuse.”

“I don’t care, there’s no way we were sitting through another hour and forty-five minutes of that.” Eddie derided, going to a cupboard and sifting through it before pulling out vanilla, baking powder, and salt.

“What happened to chaperoning?” he laughed, seeing where this was going and pulling out the chocolate chips and eggs from the fridge.

“We’re twenty feet away, you’re gonna poke your head in there every fifteen minutes and ensure nothing inappropriate is going on.”

“Me? Why not you?”

Eddie shrugged, digging out a mixing bowl from a different cupboard. “I don’t know, I chose at random and you were randomly assigned.”

Buck grinned, hip-checking him out of the way to start measuring ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. “Coward.”

Eddie merely hummed in response.

True to his word, Eddie kept aggressively nodding at the entryway to the living room every fifteen minutes or so, silently begging Buck to check on the situation, which he did dutifully.

The cookies had been out of the oven for a few minutes now, and Buck was torn on whether or not to interrupt the teens for some warm cookies or not.

He shouldn’t have worried, the credits were rolling and Chris and Penny were still sitting on the couch, a respectable distance from one another.

“Hey, Penny, your mom said she is gonna be here in about ten minutes. Do you guys want to eat some cookies we made while they’re still warm?”

“Dad let you use the stand mixer after everything that happened last saturday?” Chris quipped, following behind him into the kitchen.

“I did not.” Eddie smirked, glancing up at the ceiling before handing over the plate of cookies to Penny’s waiting hands. “Our ceiling will never recover from the muffin batter as it is.”

“See if I ever make muffins ever again. Do you see what I put up with, Penny?” Buck shook his head in mock pity as he stole a cookie from the plate. “The disrespect.”

“Buck, why would you pull up the mixer while it was still on?” Chris giggled.

“I wish my step-dad baked, my mom isn’t the best in the kitchen.”

“Neither is dad. I mean, he’s better than he used to be, but I’m still thankful that Buck cooks dinner most nights... No offense dad.”

“None taken.” Eddie mused quietly, eyeing Buck over the tops of their heads. Buck just shrugged, unsure what the look was for. 

“Well, you’re lucky you have two parents that can cook. We eat a lot of takeout at my house.” Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Must be my mom. Thank you for having me Mr. and Mr. Diaz.”

Oh. That was when it clicked for Buck. Penny thought- 

“It was our pleasure. Chris, would you like to walk her out?”

Chris nodded, charging for the door before Eddie could take it back. Penny smiled and waved as she followed behind him.

“Now, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Buck’s head snapped to Eddie, casually wiping down the counters. “Really? Mr. Let's-make-cookies-and-avoid-the-teens-at-all-cost?”

Eddie grinned impishly at him from across the counter. “I don’t know, doesn’t that also make you Mr. Let’s-make-cookies-and-”

“Stop, I heard it the first time. Did… did Chris tell her we were married? What was the deal with that?”

“No, c’mon, Chris wouldn’t do that. I think that was just the natural conclusion to come to.”

Buck’s face warmed at the comment. “Really? Mr. and Mr Diaz is just a foregone conclusion here?” He teased.

Eddie walked around the counter and stopped a few feet short of Buck. “Yeah. I think so, don’t you?”

Buck felt like all the air just got sucked from the room. “Eddie…”

A faint blush was rising on Eddie’s cheeks, but he barreled on. “I mean, let’s be honest here Buck, it’ll be a lot easier for you to change your name than for both me and Chris to switch to Buckley. We could always do Buckley-Diaz, but I kind of figured you wouldn’t mind dropping your parents-”

Buck didn’t let him finish, surging forward to claim Eddie’s mouth in a kiss, curling a hand around his waist to pull him flush against him. “You’re insane, you know that?” He breathed, pulling away just enough to rest their heads together.

“Hmmhmm.” Eddie quipped, a bright grin breaking out on his face.

“Hadn’t even kissed yet, and you’re already picking out china and monogrammed towels.”

“I don’t think we’re monogrammed towel people, Buck.” Eddie sighed, leaning in happily to steal another kiss or two.

“What type of people are we, Eddie?”

“Hopefully the type to get engaged before they’ve had a real first date?” 

Buck laughed as Eddie kissed him again, too filled with love to care about the insanity of it all.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

[singitforthegirls]

Okay, I gotta say a thing and this is just how I see things. 🤷

That 6 month anniversary gift?

Wasn't really a gift for Buck. It was a gift for 🗿, because he's the one who likes basketball. Not Buck. And when Buck didn't get that he was joking about taking Eddie & seemed to be considering it instead of him he had to clarify no, Buck had to take him.

Because he used Buck as an excuse to buy those tickets for a thing he enjoys and not what Buck enjoys too. Because 🗿 doesn't listen and everything is about him. His time/energy is more important than Buck's.

Hell, he's out but still bitter that Abby dated a "himbo half her age" after he dumped her and called her crazy for it. 🫠🙃 Like why do you care what she did?

Yes, people can change & get better. It's possible he's not as openly racist as he used to be, etc. He might be trying to be less of a dbag, but boy, those red flags just keep popping up, huh?

Also tv show and everything is put in there for a reason. Or those writers have some big ass red flags themselves. 👀👀

One thing I don't blame him for? The break-up. I get why he did that. No one wants to get hurt, so he was just trying to protect himself from that. Idk, I think that's a very valid reason. And I def think he suspects Buck has feels for Eddie.

Also I get that Josh was trying to be helpful, but lol, he literally just said he didn't know Tommy so he's making A LOT of assumptions there. And Buck being Buck, missunderstands the assignment.

Plus, the whole fear of abandonment thing.

At least 🗿 nipped that in the bud.

[incognitoleeknow]

The College Blonde

Synopsis:

After getting stuck trying make your assignment deadline, you find your life taking a quick turn for the pleasurable when you meet a stunning blonde who seems to be just the thing you needed to reignite your creativity.

Pairing: Dom!Femreader x Sub!Felix

Genre: Porn w/o plot, smut

Word count: 3.2k

College AU. Porn without plot. Lust at first sight. Strangers to lovers. Jeongin makes a cameo in the beginning as MC's best friend. Pleasure-dom reader. Submissive Felix. Mommy kink (Felix calls reader "mommy" once). Slight dacryphilia. Light orgasm denial. Reader uses nicknames like "good boy, kitten". Body worship. Blowjob (Male receiving). Corruption kink. Y/N POV.

A/n: This is my first time writing a fic so be as brutal as you wish. Also, I'm not a native english speaker and I spell like a rake so grammatical errors and spelling errors are bound to be found. You have been warned. Enjoy!

Explicit content, adult themes, suitable for 18+ only.

This is an original work. Do not repost, re-upload or otherwise redistribute.

© Novemer 2024 by IncognitoLeeKnow.

"Thank you for cheering me up today. I honestly don't know what I would do without you." 

You took an elongated sip from your americano, sighing in delight as you felt the icy liquid pass your tongue, temporarily relieving you from the blistering summer heat. 

"You didn't leave me much of a choice now, did you?" Jeongin said as a playfull smirk creeped up the corners of his mouth.   

"Oh, Yeah?" You looked up with a raised eyebrow, taking a small break from the date with your iced americano. 

"We both know you could never say 'no' to me." You flickered your eyebrows in a playfull display of challange, a satisfactory smile taking form on your plump lips. 

Sighing in defeat, Jeongin leaned back into the soft leather cushions of the Cafe chair. Followed by a soft chuckle as he said,

"Yeah well, you got me there I guess. So how's the paper coming along?" Concern in his voice apparent, albeit unessesary. 

You knew he was referring to this semesters paper. And even though it started off as a fun and easy assignment, you had now hit the dreaded fictional wall. Apparently any topic could get you feeling bored and filled with anxiety, given lack of creativity. 

A small bump in the road, you were sure. The typical cycle of the creative progress. For inspiration surely is lucrative albeit a fleeting thing, and you suppose you would have to simply wait, until creativity decided to grace your mind with its presence once again. 

Insert Jeongin and your eager request to meet him for coffee. You were best friends and had been since the second week of college. You had been late, as you usually were, running across campus with hurried steps in futile hopes of getting to the lecture hall before your professor. 

That same morning, however, your sleep ridden brain failed to remember how to tie your shoelaces. Instead opting for the much faster approach of simply tucking said laces into the sides, between your shoe and your feet. Resulting in the typical sitcom fall-over-your-own-feet plot, successfully yeeting your body towards the ground at a horrifying speed. 

Standing just a few feet away observing the borderline comical fall, Jeongin hurried over to you and asked if you were okay. 

A quick visit to the nurses office, thanks to repeatedly insisting on Jeongin's part, you found yourself earning a sprained wrist along with your first college friend. 

"Y/N?" Jeongin asked with slite concern. 

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I must've spaced out for a second. What was the question again?" You asked as you shook your head, slowly blinking your eyes, trying to snap back to reality. 

"You seem stressed, are you okay?" He said as he leaned forward, taking your hands in his own. 

"Nah, it's not as bad as it might appear. I think I just need to blow off some steam, you know?" You gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, thankful for his genuine concern. 

"Some steam, ey?" Mischievous smile returning to his lips along with a playful eyebrow raise. 

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. I just need to have a night out with friends or something." You said, shaking off Jeongin's suggestive sarcasm.

 Although you would have lied if you would had said that the thought of a steamy night with a stranger did not intrigue you. 

To be completely honest with yourself, the thought alone made you clench around nothing. But where would you even find someone? On campus? Not a fucking chance. 

***

With a huge smile on your lips, you waved goodbye to your friend, feeling somewhat relieved for the first time in a hot minute. 

You took a deep breath, letting the sent of greenery and sunshine envelope your senses. You could feel your muscles slowly relaxing as you stretched your body, arms high above your head. 

With a newly given optimism and drive, courtesy of your bff, you decided to take the opportunity to go to the campus library, in hopes of finding some additional inspiration for your paper. 

Walking with slow, unhurried steps you went through the campus park, taking in the scenery around you, coming to a stop before the fountain placed in the center of the grounds. 

You had always liked this fountain and the majestic water display it provided. 

Taking a few minutes to admire the way the water elegantly sprayed from the unpolished steel structure. Your mood brightened by the way the droplets formed an array of colors in the sunlight, gleefully watching as they bounced playfully against the wet surface and reconnected with the marbled pool at the base. 

Indeed, the soothing sound of water hitting the wet surface, was you favorite. Surely nothing could be more relaxing than this. 

Closing your eyes, you let the world disappear into the background as time seemingly came to a halt around you. 

Ah, peace of mind...

You exhaled a deep breath with feeling of an oncoming gentle, warm summer breeze. 

The presence of another soul beside you, made you quickly snap back to reality however, effectively bursting the ethereal bubble you created with a loud 'pop'. 

A hint of annoyance crossed your features, as you slowly cracked an eye open to see the person responsible. 

Your annoyance, was quickly replaced by sheer astonishment followed by a hushed gasp as your eyes took in the being standing beside you. If you did not know any better, you would have sworn you were looking at an angel. He was long, muscular in built with broad shoulders and long, blond traces elegantly falling along his sharp jawline. Beautiful, wooden eyes and a galaxy of freckles displayed across rose tinted cheeks. He was starring ahead, at the fountain no doubt, seemingly oblivious to your less than stellar reaction to his visuals. 

You forced yourself out of your trance. Feeling somewhat embarrassed by your blatant display of lack of self-control. You absent-mindedly looked at your watch trying to, unsuccessfully, appear unaffected by the stunning stranger. 

"Shit!" 

Your sudden exclamation startles the poor boy beside you, making his eyes follow you in confused horror as you took off sprinting towards the library, remembering your upcoming assignment deadline.

***

Time sure flies fast when you are looking at a whole God damn meal. Unfortunately time moves slower than a fucking snail when you are doing an assignment you do not have even the 10th of as much of an interest doing.

With the deadline for your paper being only a couple of weeks away, you felt the pressure of adulthood on you. With a sigh, you closed yet another book you found failed to provide you with the information you needed. Pushing back your chair, you got up to start umpteenth round of ramaging the many sections of the library. 

You walked torwards the deepest end of the library, the part reserved for professors who once or twice a year came to refresh their memory of some long forgotten trivia or, the occasional horny campus couple looking to spice up their sexual endeavors. You suppose it was the perfect place for privacy, given the lack of sunlight as well as the lack of efficient lighting of space. Leaving visitors with less than pleasant experience, at least if you were actually looking for something. 

You went from hardback to hardback, squinting your eyes trying decipher the titles, looking for that one book Jeongin said "will definitely help you". 

Trolleys with books crammed the isle, no doubt to the fault of the newly appointed campus librarian who always seemed to be more interested in hitting on whatever cute girl walked past, instead of actually doing his job. You made a mental note to remind him of his duties at a later time. 

Without much attention spared to the snug space that surrounded you, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt as your face connected with something halfway through the giant bookshelf. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you" You said reflexively as you lifted your gaze to meet the person in front of you. 

"No worries, mate" the deep voiced, blonde stranger replied, flashing an innocent smile that might as well have blinded you. 

You instantly recognized him, and of course anyone would. The beauty of this man was unforgettable, to say the least. You were a bit taken aback by his deep voice, the depth of it unexpected, given his angelic face. 

You gave a polite nodd his way and he smiled as he returend to reading the book in his hands. 

Not wanting to disturb his reading session, you quietly moved to get past him, to continue your search. The small passageway and seemingly endlessly littered books and trolleys making your efforts damn near impossible. 

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but I really need to get to the other side" you flashed an apologetic smile while pointing past the blonde with your finger as if the reason for you needing to get past him was not blithely clear already. 

He followed the gesture of your hand, and quickly answered.

"Oh, Yeah. Of course, go ahead. Miss...?" 

"Y/N." You quickly finished his sentence. "And you are..?" 

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you Y/N." he smiled as he turned, pressing his body as tightly as he could against one of the bookshelves, signaling with his hands for you to go past him. 

"Thank you." You said gratefully, adding a small head-bow. As you took a step closer, you angled your body face-to-face with his, thinking it to be the lesser of two evils. 

Your bodies painfully flushed together as you tried to wiggle your way past him and the unfortunately placed trolly, that for whatever reason seemed to be welded to the floor. His hands moved to hold the sides of your t-shirt in an attempt to help stabilize your steps. 

His cologne engulfed your senses with the close proximity, making you clench around nothing as you could feel wetness starting to form between your legs as your body unconsciously moved an inch closer to the man infront of you. 

You dared a glace at him, pleasantly surprised at the sight you were met with. 

Felix's cheeks had flushed a pink hue, eyes closed in an apparent attempt at self-restraint, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

Cute... 

Your body moved as if on que, your mind not even registering your movements before your hands made contact with the flushed blonde before you, tracing feather light, experimental touches across the sides of his torso, gliding up to settle on the pecks of his chest. His grip on your shirt tightend as a barely audible whimper escaped his lips. 

The delighted smirk on your face met by his surprised one. Seemingly unable to register the sound that had previously escaped him. 

"I- I'm Sorry..." he cleared his throat, embarrassed eyes turning away as his small voice trailed off mid-sentence. 

Perfect... 

A wicked smile on your lips, you leaned into his ear and whispered,

"That's one hell of a delicious sound you got there, Kitten" you leaned back to look at him as his eyes snapped back to meet yours, unsure if he had heard you right. 

Your lustful eyes made him swallow thickly. You felt his cock twitch against your core and the color of his cheeks turned from pink to a deep crimson, spreading all the way to his ears. You licked your lips. His breath hitching in anticipation as you moved to close the distance between you.  

You raised your hands to cup his burning cheeks, trapping him in a passionate kiss, taking away whatever little resolve he had as he melted into your touch. 

One hand taking a firm grip of the roots of his hair, gently pulling him back, deepening the kiss, the other tracing down his chest, past his chiseled abs, stopping at the apparent bulge to stroke some much needed relief over his strained core. The sound of wet kisses and whimpers filling the tight space between bookshelves. 

You broke the kiss to give room for a much needed oxygen boost. Your lungs desperately deprived of air, and by the looks of it, you were not the only one. Felix was panting helplessly, pleading eyes begging you not to stop. 

"Tell me what you want" voice hushed and sultry, devilish eyes meeting his hooded ones. Felix broke eye contact, seemingly embarrassed of the thought of voicing his desires. You pressed you chest to his, warm breath making him shutter as it fanned over the shell of his ear.

"Use you words Kitten, and I'll make you feel real good, yeah?"

Moving slowly downward, you let your tongue taste his neck before leaving a trail of wet kisses along his collarbone. 

You unbuttoned his pants, letting your hand slip inside the leathery material. Teasingly stroking his length as you coaxed the boy to speak. 

"I want to... ah... t-touch you." he finally mustered between staggered breaths. His husky, submissive tone sent a shot of electricity straight to your core, making your cunt throb.

"If you want to touch me, you'll have to earn it, Kitten." Crouching down to your knees, you placed your hands on the back of his thighs. Stroking reassuring circles with your thumbs before teasing digits followed the outline of his clothed muscles, stopping by the hem of his pants. 

You swiftly removed the piece of clothing, freeing his cock with a slight bounce and left the fabric to pool around his ankles. 

His breath clung to his lugns, turning into a relieved moan of as he felt you wrap your hand around his base, gently gripping him. His muscles tensed beneath your hand as you applied a bit more pressure. You kept eye contact with him as you reached out to taste his twitching cock. Going base to tip in one painfully slow drag with your hot, wet tongue, you eventually shut your eyes. A satisfied hum escaped your throat as the salty precum connected with your taste buds.

As you opened your eyes to reap the fruits of your labor, you felt his member twitch expectantly in your hands as your eyes met. Hooded eyes filled with lustful anticipation, his body trembled with your every touch in the most delicious display of sinful submission. 

Oh, what a delectable scene to behold. 

You moved to grip the hem of his shirt pulling it upwards, exposing his sculpture abs with it. You took your time admiring the way his honey glossed skin prickled as you applied feather light kisses to them. He really must have been hand crafted by Venus herself. His waist was slim, shoulder wide. He was not just pretty, he was gorgeous. You had to mentally slap yourself to keep yourself focused. 

"Here Kitten, be a good boy and hold this in your mouth for me." Felix wasted no time following your command, his hand trembled as he reached to take the fabric out of your way. 

"Words Kitten..." you commanded, voice low and hushed. 

"Y-yes, Mommy" he breathlessly stiffled out as he placed the fabric between his teeth. 

The sudden impromptu nickname surprised you.

It was an unexpected answer to say the least, albeit not entirely unwelcomed. You would not have guessed he had it in him based your first impression of him, but then again, you would not have guessed him to be this submissive either, so you supposed you should not been so taken aback by it. You should never judge a book by its cover after all. 

You scuffed. A subtle pleased smirk gracing your features before responding to his enthusiasm with a faint,

"Good boy." 

You wrapped your plump lips around his length, slowly lowering yourself over him, swirling your tongue around the tip as you went down.

You moved your hand to cup his balls, gently playing with them before you started to apply gentle pressure, stroking the underside of his length. 

"I-I can't... ah... so.. so good!" Subtle beeds of pleasure starting to form at the corners of his eyes. 

Felix leaned his head back against the heavy bookshelf as his hands gently fell to the top of your head, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. He offered no pressure, no aim to guide your movements. His shaky hands only set out to find a place of rest in a desperate attempt to ground himself. His hips squirmed helplessly with the building pleasure of the tortuous assault of your mouth to his core. 

You let his cock fall out of your mouth with a noticeable 'pop' and Felix looked like he was ready to do the same. His hands were trembling as he desperately tried to hold on to what little sanity he had left. 

"No cumming now, Kitten. You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you?" Your hands continued to teasingly stroke his cock as you spoke, making it difficult for the poor boy to form a coherent answer. 

"I-... ah.. I can't..." gentle tears blurred his vision. He could feel the unsought of his release creeping menacingly close, as he struggled to get away from your touch, not wanting the pleasure to end. 

You quickly released your grip of him and watched him whimper as the sudden inaction chased his high away. His chest heaved with want, its color matching the flush of his pretty star sprinkled cheeks as he tried break through the fog of unadulterated bliss. 

"P-please.." Felix managed to let out between sobs, voice small and pleading. Bringing your tongue back to the tip of his cock, you teased him with small, wet Kitten licks before taking the length of him into your mouth. You bobbed your head in a hurried fashion, feeling his soft head bouncing off the back of your throat. 

Felix moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, making the shirt fall from his mouth. He quickly replaced it with his fist in a desperate, albeit futile, attempt to hold back screams while the other griped his shirt anew, unable to handle the pleasure your mouth conditioned him with. 

His beautiful moans and hitched breaths spurring you on as you quickened your ministries. You could feel the wetness dripping from your neglected sex, unable to deny the effects his pleas had on you. 

"Cum for me Kitten" you said breathlessly, before returning to suck on his length with newly found determination. 

That was seemingly all the permission Felix needed, making his walls of fragile attempt to restrain come crashing down before your very eyes. Cumming with the most deliciously sinful broken moans you had ever heard. 

His orgasm sent electricity flowing through every nerve, muscles flexing and relaxing by their own accord as pearls of sweat dripped from his temples, down to his chiseled pecks. White flashes of hot bliss washing over him in waves. Cock twitching violently, coating your mouth with stripes of warm, delectable release.

You sucked him through his high, making sure to milk every last drop of his essence before swallowing, unwilling to let any of his delicious nectar go to waste.

You stood from your kneeling position, legs a tad shaky from the tiring position and carpeted concrete. You used your thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, before licking it clean. 

Felix looked at your suggestive move, lingering chock and exhaustion from his intensive release, apparent on his stunning features. 

He looked like he was going to cum again, cock unrelentingly hard, twitching as a result of your blatant display of insatiable lust. 

"Thanks for the meal, Kitten." You winked before leaving to get your things. 

What the fuck did I just do?

***

Thank you so much for reading my fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it by reblogging and liking my post. Be sure to let me know if you'd like a part two.

Stay dark my friends.

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

2. semantic memory | yang jeongin x fem!reader

semantic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as general knowledge and information accumulated throughout an individual’s life.

author's note: oh, i missed writing for jeongin!! i was going to revert to my typical best friends to lovers but i decided to change it up (barely) and do roommates instead last minute! thank you for all the love on my seungmin fic, i hope you enjoy this one too!

Yang Jeongin was a good roommate. 

He was reasonably quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He didn’t talk all the time, but he still joked around with you. He was clean and organised, but not meticulous or irritating about it. He did things without you asking; washed the dishes when you were staying up late to work on assignment, ordered you a Caesar salad and fries whenever he got takeout from his favourite Italian place, and always took whatever laundry you had with him when he went to wash his clothes. 

When you went grocery shopping, you knew his favourite beer and ramyeon, and would always buy them for him. When you watered your plants, you’d always water his too, the ones he kept along the windowsill of his bedroom and on the balcony. 

And apparently, when the air conditioning in his bedroom broke in the middle of summer, you’d let him temporarily move into your room. Or at least, that’s what you’d just told him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can find a fan or something.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Honestly. I don’t do a lot of sleeping during the night anyway.”

“You’re always studying,” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully.

“And you’re never studying, yet you somehow do so well in your classes. It pisses me off,” you groaned, giving him a light shove. “Anyway, you get the floor. Do you want some help migrating?”

The two of you dragged his mattress into your bedroom, out of breath and panting by the time it had been very unprettily dumped on your floor. He made the bed up with clean sheets, and offered to change yours as well. You thanked him, and told him you’d start making dinner.

When you’d finished, you called him, and he came out of your bedroom, shirt off, hair a little tousled. Your cheeks flushed pink and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You look…nice,” you said awkwardly, handing him a beer.

“Thanks?” he chuckled, mouth full of rice.

You sighed dramatically. “Most boys would return the compliment,” you shook your head as you opened your bottle of peach soju. 

“You always look nice. I tell you that all the time,” Jeongin replied, fumbling with the remote. “What show?”

“Brooklyn 99. And I always think you’re being sarcastic.”

“We always watch fucking Brooklyn 99. And no, I’m not. I thought that was obvious.”

“Because it’s the best show! And it’s not that obvious, not to me!” You protested.

Jeongin put his beer down and turned to you. “I’m so confused, why are we having two conversations at once?”

“You were the one who asked me two things.”

Jeongin pressed play on the episode. “One of them was a statement, the other was a question. You do always look nice. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not a dickhead.”

“Some would argue that,” you giggled, and he gave you a gentle shove.

“Some would argue you’re a bitch,” Jeongin sighed. “But I put up with you.”

“Because you think I’m pretty?” you teased. 

“Because of the rent,” he corrected. “How am I supposed to afford my own place in this economy? Although you’re a bonus, I suppose. Even if I have to watch Brooklyn 99 all the time and change your sheets.”

You kicked his shin. “You offered!” 

He grabbed your leg with his hand and shifted it back into place, leaving his hand resting on your thigh. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

“I thought you hated-” you laughed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeongin groaned, and he pinned you to the floor, tickling you until the two of you collapsed in a laughing heap, the show still running, dinner half eaten, drinks long forgotten.

The one thing you’d failed to mention to Jeongin was your habit of falling off the bed during the night. You were a professional tosser and turner, and that often ended up with you snapping out of your dreams face-down on the wooden floor, bruises littering your hips, knees and any other joint that was lucky enough to be the first to break your fall.

When you woke up, you were mortified to find yourself not on exposed hardwood, but on a mattress. With someone else, who was staring at you curiously.

“Fuck!” you groaned, shoving your face into the sheets. “I’m sorry. When did I end up here?”

Jeongin checked his phone. “Maybe 4 am? I don’t know, I didn’t notice until I rolled over and somebody’s face was in front of mine.”

“What’s the time now?”

“Just past 7.”

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I should get up then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jeongin agreed, but neither of you made any attempt to move.

You looked around your room, interested in your lower perspective. It still looked empty, too similar to when you’d first moved in. You’d been so caught up in studying and seeing your friends that you had forgotten to properly decorate your room.

“Your room’s boring,” Jeongin commented, as if reading your mind.

“Rude. But you’re right,” you agreed. “Maybe during the summer I’ll decorate it. Buy some posters, maybe find some new furniture on Facebook Marketplace.”

Jeongin nodded in approval. “I can help, if you want.”

“How can I trust that you’ll pick good home decor?” you rolled to face him, squinting.

“I know your taste, I’ve been living with you a year now,” Jeongin replied, scrolling through his phone. “Trust me, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single thing about you.”

You chuckled. “Aw, do you have one of those lists with all my favourite things or something?”

“Nope. It’s all in here,” he tapped the side of his head, smiling playfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to prove it?” he asked, turning to face you, eyes serious.

“Okay, then I’ll do the same,” you agreed.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair and set his phone down. “Your favourite fruits are peaches, but nectarines come a close second. If stone fruits aren’t in season, you’ll settle for citrus. You’re prescribed an iron supplement, but you never take it, because you say it tastes like metal. Your favourite colour is pale blue, but it didn’t match the personal colour analysis that app gave you and you’ve been angry about it ever since. You drink with your friends, but don’t like getting drunk while you’re out since you have a fear of being kidnapped. You haven’t had a boyfriend since 12th grade, and you’re secretly in love with me,” he finished, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at his final statement. “Alright, Yang Jeongin. You’re the youngest in your friendship group but hate being babied, and you wanted to be a primary school teacher growing up. Your favourite colour is green, and you can fit a whole slice of pizza in your mouth. You can actually sing decently well, but never do, and you actually love Brooklyn 99 more than I do. You love buying clothes, and your favourite place to do so is the vintage shop down the road, where you spend all of your time and all of your money. And, above all, you get no bitches.”

“Don’t you classify as a bitch?” He laughed. “You did well, though. Everything you said was right.”

“You were right too,” you sighed. “I really thought you were going to say something insanely stupid that I could tease you for.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget that last statement?”

You ignored him. “I genuinely can’t believe you know that much about me. Fuck, I have to hide more about myself. I hate being perceived.”

Jeongin chuckled in amusement. “I pay attention. It’s weird hearing everything someone knows about you all at once. What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I think we have to make out now,” you said casually.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I think we do.”

You shuffled closer, and he moved to lie above you, weight on his elbows. His eyes glittered, and his cheeks were tinged with peach. You smiled up at him, face warm and tingling. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours softly, and you sighed into his mouth at the feeling. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, pulling apart when you both lost your breath.

“You were right,” you panted, lips swollen. 

“About?”

“Me being secretly in love with you.”

He smiled. “Well, you were wrong. About me getting no bitches. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume you’re my bitch, considering the fact that we just kissed?”

“I won’t be for long if you keep calling me that. It’s girlfriend to you now,” you giggled, and he wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you tight onto his chest.

[leona-hawthorne]

hello hello, congrats on 1k once again!! 💘 for my first request, i’d like it to be latte art, please! my house is ravenclaw and my favourite class is charms ✨

KIRAAA i love you, thank you for requesting bb!! 😚 i know you love theo so i chose to do him for this one specifically 🤭 hope you like it 💌

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ SHOW OFF... theodore nott

The day was supposed to be simple, really. Charms was your favorite, after all. Even when it came to complex spells, you always seemed to find your rhythm quickly, something your professors had taken to mentioning with a satisfied nod every now and then.

Today, though, your rhythm had apparently vanished without a trace.

You could feel it slipping the moment Professor Flitwick assigned the task: enchanting objects to float in controlled patterns, and then slowing it down as it was moving—paired work optional but highly encouraged. Naturally, you chose to work alone, not out of stubbornness but simply because you were used to it. Besides, it was Charms—if there was any class you could ace solo, it was this one.

But the quill in front of you had other ideas.

You held your wand steady, casting the spell with a confidence that came naturally to you. But just as you whispered Wingardium Leviosa, your quill seemed to have a mind of its own. Instead of drifting up in the delicate arc you’d pictured, it shot forward in a wild, unpredictable path, veering toward the back of the room. Horrified, you watched as it spiraled, narrowly missing one student, only to make a perfect landing… right in someone’s lap.

And that someone happened to be Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin boy who sat near the back. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, one eyebrow arched in faint amusement, like he couldn’t quite believe what just happened. A blush crept up your cheeks as you walked over, hoping no one else had noticed.

You hesitated, but before you could offer a stammered apology, he picked up the quill between his fingers, turning it over as though examining it for some hidden charm. "I didn't expect this from someone who's supposed to have perfect control in… everything," he said, his tone smooth and low, edged with the faintest hint of teasing.

"I—it's usually fine," you replied, flustered. "I don’t know why it did that. I always get the levitation spells right."

He extended the quill back to you, his eyes piqued with interest. "Do you? Perhaps I should watch your technique more closely."

You managed a laugh, though your heart hammered in your chest at the way he looked at you—uncharacteristically focused. As you reached to take back the quill, Theo didn't let go immediately, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a barely-there smirk. "Or maybe you just need a demonstration," he added lightly, as if making up for his earlier teasing.

"I’m pretty sure I know how to levitate a quill," you countered, aiming to match his cool tone. But he was already flicking his wand, casting the spell with a practiced ease that made the quill hover smoothly between you.

The quill floated perfectly, following the path you’d envisioned for your own attempt. You tried to ignore the spark of admiration that bubbled up, focusing instead on the spell. “Show-off,” you muttered, a grin sneaking onto your face despite yourself.

“Only when necessary,” he replied with a laugh that was more a soft exhale than anything else. Theo lowered his wand, letting the quill hover above his hand for just a second before it drifted toward you quickly. “Arresto Momentum,” he murmured under his breath, the quill coming to a slow halt directly in front of your face.

You felt your smile grow. “Alright, alright. I get it, Mr. Perfect.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though you caught the way his gaze lingered. “It’s an easy mistake to make,” he said. “For some people.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m guessing you never make mistakes in Charms?”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not when I’ve got an audience.”

It took you a second to realize he meant you, and when you did, your cheeks warmed again. Theo let the silence stretch out just a little longer before he added, “Though, I’d expect someone like you to be better with this sort of thing.”

You tilted your head. “Someone like me?”

He chuckled. “You know, all that… bookish focus you’ve got going on,” he said, looking away almost shyly as if he hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. "You'd think it would translate."

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you said, brushing off your slight embarrassment. “Though I’m starting to think having a partner might have been a good idea after all.”

“Is that a request?” He raised a brow, his tone light but with just enough intrigue to keep you on edge.

You glanced at him, taken aback by the unexpected offer, but somehow not entirely opposed. “Are you volunteering?”

He gave a faint shrug. “Why not? Better than sitting here waiting to be your next target.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Okay, fine. Let’s see if I can redeem myself, then.”

The two of you stood there, caught in this back-and-forth, and you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d never spoken before now. Theo, who everyone whispered about as aloof and impossible to read, had this unexpectedly easy charm. That lingering smile of his had a way of making you forget all the little mistakes you might have just made, as if you were the only person in the room worth paying attention to.

“I’ll try not to disappoint next time,” you murmured, just as Professor Flitwick clapped his hands to call for the class’s attention again.

As you walked back to your desk, you glanced over your shoulder one last time, catching Theo watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. He gave you a slight nod, and you found yourself smiling—thinking, maybe, that a little levitation mishap wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[yacinthemorning]

Bamboozled by the Bird

Chapter 1

[next]

Summary: Tango is the muscle for the Tuff Guys, a gang that deals primarily in money lending. How he got here he can't remember anymore, and his only moments of respite from his awful job is hanging out with Scarland's accident-prone mascot. His life gets infinitely more complicated though, after he's assigned to put the pressure on a new client who seems to know way too much about him. The situation quickly escalates from there in ways Tango could have never imagined.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (romantic(?)), Bdubs & Etho & Skizz & Tango (frienemies), Jimmy & Lizzie (familial)

Warnings: Mild harm to animals, Attempted animal killing, Organized crime, Violence, Extortion, Threats, Hidden identity

[AO3 Link]

The trash can slammed into the wall, contents scattering across the floor. The punk crawled onto his knees, coughing and clenching at his stomach. No time to catch his breath. He shrieked as claw-like nails dug into his scalp, yanking him up by the hair until Tango could see his face reflected in the man's sunglasses. Tango tilted his head, then plucked the glasses off his nose. Tears filled the dumb kid's eyes, a bruise swelling one half shut. He hissed in sympathy. "That ain't gonna look good tomorrow."

The comment sparked some last glimmer of fight in him, his face twisting into a beaten snarl, "Fuck you-!"

Tango's knee connected with his groin, the punk devolving into a wheeze as he curled in on himself. "Watch your language, there's kids around here." The blond chastised. On cue there was a chorus of delighted screams echoed through the alley. Behind the tall fence down the way the Scarland's infamous Bamboozle Coaster rushed past on its old fashioned wooden tracks.

His target did not seem to care. He sobbed, unable to speak any further. Tango finally dropped him, slipping the sunglasses over the bridge of his own nose. "We're increasing your interest by forty percent."

"For- You gotta be kidding me!" The kid's voice broke as he cried. "How am I supposed to pay that? You old fogies-"

"Hey, this old fogey went easy on you since you’re just a little boy." Tango drawled, playing with his new glasses. He'd had to make some adjustments, but the colour was just his style. "You got one week, and it ain't gonna be me dealing with you if you don't have the money by then. Now get outta here!"

Despite his backtalk the kid didn't need to be told twice to bolt. The alley was left empty, only the mess left behind.

Tango sighed. The audacity of some young folks always shocked him. At least their older customers knew it was their own fault for turning to the Tuff for money. They didn't accept their fate any more gracefully but at least they didn't usually run their mouth.

Ever since Skizz retired, though, it was Tango's problem to deal with the brats he'd accumulated that treated their business like a silly little piggy bank they could borrow from willy-nilly. It was a financial mess and now it fell on Tango to have to clean up. He passed a shop whose front was more mirror than window, forced to get a good look at himself and the several inches most the crowd behind him had on him. There were wrinkles in his bright shirt, something he never quite got out of them. Not exactly the most intimidating of their guys on the case. Then again, they used to think that guy was Skizz.

Well, he supposed Skizz reaped what he sowed. Tango wasn't making the same mistake. He wouldn't give their boss an excuse to stab him in the back. Again.

"Man, I need to find a new job." He grumbled to himself, drowned out by the screams of the roller coaster goers on the other side of the fence. A joke, of course. Like his life. This was a lifelong career sorta gig, unfortunately for him.

An odd commotion broke Tango out of his self-loathing. There was a large double gate open in the fence. One of the staff entrances to Scarland, clearly meant for food trucks to get inside. That was not who occupied it currently. Instead it was a group of college students, led by one Karen-in-training, it would seem, screaming at- a bird. A very large, very blue bird. Solidarity, one of the mascots for the Bamboozler Coaster, if Tango recalled the posters right. Its cheery face bobbled while his arms flailed about, trying desperately to close the gates together if not for the students standing in the way.

"P-Please, I can't!" cried the poor actor, trying to close the gate once and for all. Baby Karen outright put her hand on the gate, then on the mascot.

"You owe us this for kicking us out! We did nothing wrong!" Her voice slurred, and one look at the group's blotchy faces told Tango all he needed to know. At a family park even instead of just going to a bar- though given the fact that it wasn't even noon most weren't open yet. Real classy.

"Please, ma'am."

"At least refund our tickets!"

"I'm not authorized to do that. Please just leave quietly."

Something went flying over them. A backpack. It beamed the poor mascot right in the head, sending him tumbling backwards onto his butt. The group laughed. Alright, now they'd really gone too far.

"Hey! What do you think yer doing?" Tango snapped and began marching over. At first only one of the students turned their head. As soon as they saw Tango their eyes went wide and they quickly nudged their companions. By the time Tango reached where they had been they'd scattered completely, leaving Tango alone with Solidarity.

The guy was adjusting his enormous mask when Tango held out a hand. It took both his wings to get a good enough grip for Tango to pull him back onto his feet. "Thank you. Gosh that scared the life out of me."

"I didn't know being a mascot was such a perilous career path." Tango quipped, eyebrow raised. The actor within muffled a laugh, while his wings brushed the worst of the dirt away.

"It's my fault, I should have called security... I thought I could lead them out quietly." He paused, then hissed. "I broke my tail!"

The bird jerked, spinning to reveal his tail. Indeed, it was bent and torn from the fall, in serious need of a professional. Tango reached out, tugging at one of the massive felt feathers. Solidarity jumped and yelped as if it were his own tail. Wings flew up to cover the break. "Oh, this is going to come out of my pay-cheque!"

"That's fuckin' lame." Tango hissed in... Solidarity.

The mascot jumped again, a pointer feather wagging in front of his beak before jabbing towards Tango, "Language! There's children around here!"

What was Tango supposed to do but burst out laughing? Arguing was off the table when he'd said the same thing not ten minutes ago. And the way the actor shimmied around in the suit was nothing short of ridiculous. Tango could believe he was a real life cartoon character if not for the fact that the costume's expression never changed. So, Tango laughed.

Even if his face was hidden. Solidarity's whole body slumped, wings rocking at his side before they went up to cover his face. "Oooh! Quit it!" He shrieked, shaking like an ice cube was shoved down his shirt. It only made Tango double over. Another whine that sounded far too much like an actual bird escaped the mascot.

"You're a riot, birdie!" Tango finally managed to pull himself together, wiping a tear from his eye.

"And you're something else! I just got attacked and here you are, laughing at me!"

"Well it's not every day you run into a canary getting shaken down."

"Canary! A canary!" Solidarity flailed, as if he would take to the skies any moment. "I'm a parrot, thank you very much! A canary, he says!"

Tango had to admit, he was taken aback by the outrage in Solidarity's voice. It was practically a different man standing before him now than the one who could barely say no to a college kid a few minutes ago. All over a little light teasing about his costume. Talk about mixed up priorities.

"Well, Mister Parrot," He drawls, trying to compose himself. Act casual. "As funny as you are I got business elsewhere. So, unless you got another group of drunk students hiding somewhere I think I ought to get going."

"Oh, um. Okay." The costumed man shuffled awkwardly, as if looking for something. Whatever it was he gave up with a huff and awkwardly bowed. "Thank you, again. I, um, I don't have anything right now but-"

"I don't need nothin', yelling at a bunch of brats after my week was gift enough." Tango assured. When Solidarity slumped in his feathers he spun on his heels, waving goodbye. "See y'round!"

There was a long silence as Tango walked away, before he heard hurried shuffling and a heavily muffled, "S-see you!"

It was, on a grand scale, such a minor interaction. Just a couple minutes at most. Yet Tango couldn't keep it off his mind for the rest of the weekend. The baffling becostumed man was, perhaps, the only small ray of sunshine Tango had gotten in a long time since Skizz was retired.

And how pathetic was that? Getting yelled at for mis-speciesing a bird outfit after scaring a bunch of teenagers. Most people would likely consider it the low note of their week. How bad was his life becoming, really, if that was his highlight. Etho was right, he really ought to start speaking to a therapist or something. Then again, he had no desire to dance around his career with a professional and potentially put them at risk of his bosses' wraths. He'd just live his miserable life and cope on his own, clinging to pathetically tiny moments of joy, like getting yelled at by a mascot.

It helped, a little. Thinking about it while on missions like his current one. Standing outside a sad little trailer that would have been condemned if half the park didn't look exactly like it. Chipped panelling, a cracked window, weeds consuming what ground wasn't tainted by urine from feral animals and grease. There were signs, though. Plastic pots of strawberries that were sad but still blooming. A hosed down litter mat hanging from a fence next to a laundry line of shirts with the pale marks of removed stains. A bike hidden in the weeds from thieves. Whoever lived here hadn't given up, was at least trying.

Shame that trying involved taking an exorbitant loan from the Tuff Guys.

If Tango stopped to mourn every innocent target, though, he'd never get his job done. Then it would be him on the chopping block.

So, tango waited. His target had just headed to the mailboxes and was meandering back, flipping through spam. A tall broad-shouldered man who could have been a celebrity if he ate better and worked out. Instead he was scrawny and pale, with bags under his eyes and his blond hair the only thing that looked healthy and groomed. The poverty wasn't a lifelong situation for him, Tango guessed, but a more recent development.

Not that it was his business. The best it could tell Tango was that the guy might have more vivid delusions that he could ever hope to pay off what he owed. The amount was frankly embarrassing, especially if these were the results. All gone into debts, poor guy.

Tango waited for the man to reach the step up to his door before he went in. There was the click of the lock, then a muffled squeak, shoulders going stiff under Tango's arm- only slightly made awkward by the height difference. "Jimmy, buddy, how's it going!" He drawled, bumping his head against the other's. "Been waiting for you, how you doing?" A small act, something vaguely resembling a natural interaction. Not that the people around there weren't familiar with a shake down.

A shudder had already formed in the man, brown eyes wide. It was lucky he'd already unlocked the door, there was no way he'd be able to get the key in otherwise. He wouldn't last long. A tight smile stretched across his face, some sad attempt at playing along. "H-hey. I- um- I'm..." Tango didn't know humans could even get that high pitched. No, he wouldn't last long at all.

"Well?" He gave the man a small mercy in taking the lead. "Don't be a stranger, invite me in!"

"Righ- Yeah. Right." He nudged the door, the hinges barely moving. So, Tango gave it a kick, and quickly dragged him inside. With one practised motion he threw Jimmy away from the doorway and slammed it closed before leaning against it. No escape.

Jimmy braced against the pantry. The whole camper shook with his weight as he was only kept upright by the tight quarters. Not the worst Tango had seen. It was mostly clean, in that the pile of dishes were properly washed, the papers on the table were in dollar store folders, and the plastic surfaces were mostly stained with aging yellow rather than anything unknown. It still had someone's entire life crammed into a glorified hallway. Only a few pictures graced the walls, most being his target with either a pink haired woman or a brunet man, or both.

There was a smell, a mix of citrus soap, febreeze, pasta sauce, and the slightest hint of litter. From the bedroom a cat meowed. Jimmy only took his eyes off Tango long enough to shush the cat, muttering under his breath, "Go back to sleep, Norman." As if the little creature could understand.

"So, two hundred sixty-k, huh?" Tango said as he continued to examine the home for anything. Any valuables, any luxuries, any vaults. Signs of the money in question. There wouldn't be, in all likelihood. Tango could already tell, whatever this guy needed the money for was earnest. To pay off a different debt, or maybe medical bills. "What's a guy like you need that kinda cash for, anyways?"

"I still have two weeks before my next payment." Jimmy stuttered, pressing himself back against his bedroom door. The cat on the other side pawed under it, but he seemed determined to keep it safe more than even himself.

"Yeah, but y'see," Tango rolled his head to the side and pulled his switchblade from his pocket. A few flicks even a kid could safely do was enough to scare a guy like this. "We've been in this business quite a while, Jimbo, and we're pretty good at feeling out our clients. And you?" He pointed the tip towards the shaking man. "You were nearly late with your last deadline. So, the boss sent me here to check up on you. Make sure you're alright."

"It was just bad timing with my pay-cheque. I'll have the money on time this month."

Tango sighed. Pushing off the door, he wandered up to Jimmy, still playing with the blade as loud as he could make it. Metal scraped metal as the blade slipped into its sheath and sprung back out while Tango put himself mere inches from his target's face. It was a miracle the tears glossing the edge of Jimmy’s eyelids hadn't spilled over yet. "And I'm sure you will." He muttered. "But hey, I'm a nice guy, and don't let my good looks fool ya, I'm pretty good with numbers too. So, maybe..." black painted claws dragged up Jimmy's jacket until they reached his collar. Tango fiddled with the denim for a moment, fraying it more than he fixed it, before he pulled it into a tight fist. "I could help teach you how to budget a bit."

Jimmy shrieked as he was flung across the room, crashing into the linoleum floor. In the same motion Tango tore open the bedroom door and reached down. Maybe in a larger space where the bed wasn't also drawers the cat could have hid, but in the half a foot of space it'd squished itself into between the bed and door it had nowhere to run before Tango latched onto its scruff and yanked it up.

It screeched, but he was surprised to find it didn't lash out. Maybe that startled Tango more than the scratches and bites he expected, but it paused his blade long enough that the sad thing's wide eyes locked with his own. A beast as pathetic as its owner.

It was enough time for Jimmy to clamber onto his knees and shout, "Wait, please!"

Tango glanced over to him. The tears had finally started running down his face. The depth of the terror in his eyes was normally something Tango only saw when he had a weapon against his target's own head, not a damn cat. "Please don't hurt him. Please. I'll have your money, I swear. He doesn't even understand, he’s just a cat. Don't do this, please."

The thing was, Tango knew how to kill. He wouldn't have ended up in this line of work if he didn't. And animals? They were an easy way to get the point across. The difference in expenses wouldn't mean jack, but it got the point across. But Tango also wasn't heartless. More of a dog person than cats, but big beady eyes were big beady eyes, so he'd always done it quick. When the anger of whatever nip they gave was fresh and before he could think.

But what was he supposed to do now, with the tan little creature hanging like a rag, curled up on itself with its tail hugged to its belly and a nervous purr in its throat?

He had a job to do, though. A point to make, money to ensure.

Tango growled, as frustrated with himself as the situation, wondering if he was really doing this even as he unzipped the top of his jacket and shoved the cat down in it. Jimmy was stuck between sobbing and being stunned too much to stop him. Tango kicked him back down to the ground, out of the way of the door.

He gave the man one last glance. "Fifteen in two weeks. Don't give me reason to come back."

There was no time for Jimmy to respond, no time for him to point out it was higher than he was supposed to pay this time. Tango slammed the door shut once more and didn't look back.

The bundle in his jacket struggled and cried, but Tango didn't open it up again until he was sat in his car, doors locked. He deflated against his seat, letting the cat leap into the back seat. "What the hell have I done to myself?" He hissed. No one responded, except for a pitiful little mewl.

[deimos-awaits]

Ironsong Initiate One

A short clip about an Ironsong Aspirant

Theophilus Attaliates was a child. He was a child of Astraea from the half of the world that had developed lush verdant forests instead of nigh endless pillars of choking industry. He had been selected the way his half of the world had selected all of their aspirants, one of a hundred victors of a biennial athletic competition. Now he was standing within the Spine of the Emperor, that vast mountain range that divided his world in half. Nineteen times his homeworld had orbited its star, fourteen standard terran years.

The Fortress-Monastery of the Ironsong Chapter was beautiful. Porfyropaláti in the heart of the Spine of the Emperor was a beautiful work of art. It was vast and made for a scale of human that Theophilus was not on, and hopefully would become. There were vast pink and purple tapestries gracing half the hall and the other half was raw industrial machinery that worked in a perfect precision. It was a strange room, the entrance hall of the chapter where he stood with nearly 200 other youths.

He missed his mother in Novos Athoni. He missed their small hab unit and the sounds the water purifier made. He missed attending services at the Temple of the Machine-God-Made-Flesh, he missed his gothic lessons. He missed playing in the market.

He had never been away from his family for this long and was beginning to be dimly aware that after weeks being screened and tested for diseases and other maladies, that he might never do so again.

Theophilus knew this was supposed to be an honor, it was it was, but he still was nervous.

Theopholius was torn out of his thoughts by a giant of space marine in front of him. The man, at least Theopholius assumed he was. The space marine was arrayed with a number of mechanical arms, and from what Theopholius could see a false leg. The marine took off his helm and Theopholius was also able to make out. He had beautiful white hair and violet eyes. In that respect he looked similar enough to the few Ironsong he had been blessed with seeing.

The marine did not have the voice Theophilius expected. He spoke steadily and with a mesmerizing voice. Everyone present even the other marine guards seemed to follow his words. “Aspirants! I am Strategos Siderénia Teleiótita of the Tenth Themata. You will be presented to the Artificer-Despot in the coming weeks. As of now you are the worthy two hundred of this year, this generation’s greatest and strongest. You see around you you future siblings in arms.”

Theopholius’s eyes widened. He felt like his soul was being stared into.

“You have spent the last few weeks being cleared medically and spiritually. Those of you that survive, for it is not guaranteed that all of you will, will be inducted into the Ironsong Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. It will not be pleasant. You will be becoming the Emperor’s Angels of Death!”

The room was dead silent as the Strategos let what he had said sink in. “As you go from aspirants to neophytes to full fledged Battle-Brothers, you will be assigned to my Themata. You will be under my wings, and I swear by the Machine God that I will do all within and even beyond my power to take the worthy among you to live up to the name of our genefather Ferrus Manus!”

Much later when they had each been assigned to their bunk and given schedules for the next seeable features of their lives, Theophilus. On the way to the dormitories he'd seen a chapel dedicated to the emperor. That was where he went; he was a faithful and loyal servant after all.

The young boy, for he was not yet a man depending on what happened may never become a man, he knelt in prayer he knelt before an icon of the throne of the emperor of mankind where his halves were on display here and human and machine were glorified.

Theophilus mumbled and started over prayer sent a thousand times before never before alone though. And after some period of time and contemplation he heard the door open. You turned to see who it was realizing just now what kind of offense that this might be.

It was the strategos from earlier in the day.

He smiled almost kindly at the boy stripped of the armor wearing more traditional clothing for their home planet though you greatly scaled up to accommodate his size. “Aspirant Theophilus?”

The boy did his best sign of the Aquila and stood at firm attention though he was so clearly shaking. “Strategos Teleiótita!”

The older space Marine did not display the harshness of face that Theophilus was worried about. “You are brave to break your curfew on the first night already. Why?”

The office did not know why but he felt no fear looking at the man. “I was scared, sir!”

“Scared of what? You're in one of the most secure places in the segmentum, aspirant.”

“I… this is my first time away from home sir!”

The Elder sigh eand sat down in one of the pews. “You're lucky that you found me instead of any one of my brothers. Come sit with me we will pray. I remember what it was like to leave.”

Theophilus did as was asked. “Is it as dangerous as you said, sir?”

“More so. Theophilus if you wish you can be sent home you have gone through no trials. It will be no shame to you nor your family.”

“No sir! I want to serve the emperor sir!” This was obviously a test and one that he would pass.

“Of that I have no doubt. Have you any knowledge of the Benedictions of the Machine?”

The younger one of the two shook his head. “Then let us begin.”

[sarastuss-a]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 ;   ————  SHE IS THE NEW SUN.     a hero reborn ( a lost soul ) 𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙷𝚈𝙳𝙰𝙴𝙻𝚈𝙽, destined to become the hero of the worlds.  an   independent,   selective writing blog for my  𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 &. 𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐌,   named SARASTUS. based the final fantasy xiv - game.   ;      brought   to  you  by   deax.     ( she / her, 24 )

[swiftzeldas]

Hey, I don't appreciate being ditched like someone's bad date.

alex krycek + the x-files (season 2)

[ra-vio]

I miss nier. I have to watch the automata anime

[djevelbl]

I went back to rewatch the guy's (Frostbyte Freeman on yt, btw) video - more specifically, the part where he talks about Whitepine - to see if I'd misinterpreted anything, taken his words out of context in a bout of misdirected anger and a sense of offense at his opinion, had completely missed the point by nitpicking some obscenely specific issue as a gotcha! moment, anything, really. It feels bizarrely weird, I guess, to be so hung up on this random dude's words, vague-posting about it on a platform I'm not entirely sure he's even on or not (it's a toss-up, really) and going slightly off the rails in anger at his (perceived, of course) stupidity; so, I went back to hear his opinion on the series again, especially when in contrast to the other two. Kinda to say one last thing, and then let the topic die. The thing is, he never spoke of Whitepine's story - it was always the artistic intention, the clear love put behind its creation, the color palette, the cinematography. Never the story. Which, y'know, you'd expect would be the point of discussing minecraft storytelling? And he hides behind calling the process of explaining Whitepine and its nuances as "doing it a disservice" - well, I don't give a fuck about "doing it a disservice", because if you're doing a video essay on the fucking topic of minecraft STORYTELLING you better be ready to talk about the fucking STORY, GENIUS; so, what's Whitepine's story? ... Kinda hard to say. The wiki says it is: "a minecraft series developed by IvoryTV and posted on YouTube, where a newly hired maid is tasked with taking care of the members of the Hemlocke Family and to prioritize their every need. However, what was suppose to be a normal job turned disastrous as the maid's next day was struck by the tragedy of a murder case in the Whitepine Estate." Which is true, the story is a period drama and a murder mystery - Frosty over here decides to use different words, however:

"Whitepine is a 2024 period drama serial written and directed by IvoryTV. It is the story of a mysterious young woman (maid) assigned to work for a wealthy manor that is, if not literally, then figuratively haunted by shadows of the past - hers, and everyone else's."

Personally I find that interesting cuz like, while it's implied that's the case (in terms of the "shadows of the past" comment) I have no idea where in the fuck he got that from - except maybe he came up with it?? He's SO wordy oh my god, half the time I didn't get what tf he was talking about. My point is: he could've used the official description, he could've omitted mentioning the murder if he was OH SO INSISTENT on not spoiling anything, yet instead uses a description that puts more emphasis on aspects of the series BARELY EVEN EXPLORED RIGHT NOW instead of on the oh idk FUCKING MURDER???? He goes around willy-nilly speaking of certain aspects of the story while willfully concealing others in the name of "not spoiling the experience".

And my biggest problem with the inclusion of Whitepine as one of the three different stories he wanted to comment on, is the fact that Whitepine is barely starting - it doesn't have enough of anything right now to call a story beyond the first foundations of it, and no matter how pretty it looks or how beautiful the songs are, if your story has no, well, story then it doesn't matter. It's empty. I don't say this as a critique to the series itself - again, barely starting; I don't like punching under the belt - but more as a critique to the tunnel vision that Frosty was exhibiting as he wrote the script out; doesn't it make you wonder if, at ANY POINT of his video creating process, he read over the Whitepine section and thought "hm. is it appropriate to talk about a series with only 2 episodes (as of making that video) and not a lot of story, bc I think it's pretty?" cuz I sure as all hell wished he did

I just. what was the point? Whitepine doesn't have enough story right now to be thrown into an analysis with stories like Unstable Universe (which is WELL underway) and Parkour Civilization (which is LITERALLY FINISHED), and do it justice - it has its character moments and beautiful music, it has its great cinematography and intriguing mystery, but story? No. Not right now. And it's just because it was started a few months ago - I'm sure that in time it's gonna be the next best story that has ever been recorded in Minecraft, no doubt. But until that happens: if I ever see this guy on the street I'm giving him the london treatmen, if you will /j

Also just finished watching a video that made me ACTUALLY ANNOYED at the guy who made it and like. ok if you don't want a story told through Minecraft that is made through the lens of content creation in ANY capacity then don't??? watch stories told through Minecraft????? Cuz like. they're mostly like that; even parkciv which is still good IS done through a content creation viewpoint — either as a parody on the medium it was being told through (scripted Minecraft content/Minecraft storytelling) or just as a result of telling the story and like. needing to pay the bills or whatever is a bit up in the air I guess BUT STILL. don't sing praises to a series that's GREAT in all cinematography aspects that JUST SO HAPPENS to be told through Minecraft all the while you're saying "oooh Minecraft storytelling shouldn't be scared of being called cringe just bc it's embracing roleplay to tell it's narrative, it shouldn't pretend to be non-scripted when it so clearly is" which true, JUST TO THEN critique parkciv for...

*checks notes*

... Embracing its medium AND its limitations to tell its story, JUST bc it didn't necessarily strive to be groundbreaking??? What??????

From what I understand, the series the guy was singing praises to like it was his own child at the local school's dance recital, Whitepine (which I'm currently watching so I'll just come back to this once I've finished — let's see if I'll eat my words [doubt it]) is GREAT in terms of visuals, audio and the likes — it obviously takes great care in forming its atmosphere and from the little I've seen the youtubers are genuinely being actors, not just their normal selves masquerading as characters (something that, admittedly, happens A LOT in scripted Minecraft content/Minecraft storytelling like SMPs or solo series [I'm looking at you, later half of the DSMP]). But it isn't Minecraft storytelling — in my opinion, at least.

Minecraft storytelling implies that it includes Minecraft and its mechanics in some way, shape or form that becomes impactful to the story that is being told — it isn't just a REALLY good story that just so happens to use Minecraft as its movie set. This, ultimately, is why I think the guy was wrong — not necessarily in the idea that the stories he critiqued had more room to grow (which parkciv at least does. I haven't watched ParrotX2's Unstable Universe videos and I don't really plan to; they're not my thing) but in what "Minecraft storytelling" should strive to be.

I have a vivid memory — trust me, this is related — of when I was younger (they say, like she's an octogenarian instead of not even being halfway through his lifetime. anyway) having played Minecraft Murder Mystery with my friends in the playground bc I really REALLY liked Gona89's video series on it. This is like, not really the same storytelling but they did have a sort of story — the chemistry between the youtubers felt like watching a series of characters interact with one another, and certain jokes from one video would seamlessly move into the next as well.

And y'know what? IT DIDN'T FUCKING WORK — playing the thing in the playground, that is. Because the thing wasn't made for that; stories have their medium of expression because they're tailored to it, or the medium is tailored to that story — if your Minecraft story can be told perfectly fine when divorced from its primary medium of expression (Minecraft), then it's LITERALLY not a Minecraft story: it just happens to use the game as the backdrop

... Kinda like The Lego Movie: a lot of the mechanics within the movie CANNOT be divorced from lego that easily BECAUSE it's a fucking LEGO MOVIE — partially related but not really the point of this rant: this is why A Minecraft Movie's trailer fucking FLOPPED. It showed absolutely NO POINT in being made bc it's NOT a Minecraft movie (pun accidentally stumbled upon but I shall confidently roll with it, actually), instead it JUST SO HAPPEN to use the videogame as its set.

TLDR: IF YOUR STORY DOESN'T INCLUDE MECHANICAL ELEMENTS THAT ARE INTRINSICAL TO THE GAME YOU USE TO TELL IT, THEN SAID GAME IS JUST THE FUCKING SET. IT'S NOT A MINECRAFT MOVIE JUST BC IT HAPPENS TO BE RECORDED IN MINECRAFT FOR FUCK'S SAKE

[notmoreflippingelves]

So in the middle of my rewatch, I suddenly got really distracted by Francisco's black-with-gold-accents "formal" court attire, specifically in regards to the leaf accents on the sleeves. And I could help but think of the *other* black-with-gold-leaf accents look that we see on a Flores family member--Esteban's in "Elena and the Secret of Avalor." Although the designs between the two suits are distinctly different, there is enough of a similarity to make me want to think about them as a set and how the differences actually reflect the differences in the characters/their roles as well.

Although the silhouettes are similar overall, I would go far as to say that Francisco's look creates more of the classic "storybook prince" vibe than his grandson's. His costume is ornate and grand without seeming ostentatious. Think of how Prince Charming is costumed in pretty much any Cinderella adaptation. He must look striking and appropriately heroic--but specifically in a way that enhances our heroine without overshadowing her. And in nearly every adaptation, Prince Charming is more than okay with this, and the same is true of Francisco. He is at some level aware that he is on a show called "Elena of Avalor"--not "Francisco Flores of Avalor" and has no desire to pull the spotlight away from where it rightfully must be. In fact, he is far prouder to be the grandfather of Elena (and of Esteban and Isabel as well) than he would hypothetically be as the protagonist of his own story.

(Esteban meanwhile exudes "main character energy" and I mean that in both the complimentary and derogatory sense. In his mind, he is on a show titled "Chancellor Esteban of Avalor and His 41-Year-Old Guilt Complex That Not Even Tres Leches Cake Can Heal." But like if I had four decades of trauma to process and no one else seemed to notice, I would probably feel uncomfortable when we are not about me as well. And fittingly, his black-and-gold outfit is much more attention-grabbing than Francisco's, but much more on that later).

Two big parts of what leads to the "fairy tale hero" look in Francisco's outfit (and also to his "default" blue version) are: 1) the two medals pinned to his chest and 2) the epaulettes at the shoulder (I believe this is still the correct term even if they lack the tassels we normally associate w/the term, but like fashion historians can feel free to correct me).

Either epaulettes or medals of honor --or both-- are often seen on characters of his type. (Pick any Disney prince and you have a 50% chance of seeing one of these. Heck, King Roland's main outfit in SoA has both as well). A large part of what leads us to associate these particular sartorial touches as "hero-coded" are their association as part of typical military dress uniforms throughout history. (And yes, I recognize the problematic nature of such a trope, but just bear with me and accept it for now).

By including these as part of Francisco's costume (and its original blue equivalent), the animators are implying that he has a long, proud of history of serving his country and that at least some of this service came as a soldier and/or commander on the battlefield. And that he won honor--military and practical alike--in doing so.

Esteban's ensemble, obviously lacks the military touches (the epaulettes and medals) of his grandfather's. Because for all that he too served Avalor for decades, his service was of the bureaucratic rather than the military variety. (Shuriki obviously won't let Esteban wear a sword with his uniform--even he wanted to. Hardly surprising considering the whole "I killed your aunt and uncle. Doesn't that make you want to go apeshit?" thing they've got going.) But I digress.

The arms (esp the shoulders) and trousers of Esteban's ensemble are also much more form-fitted than Francisco's,as befitting a younger, more athletic man who wants to better show off his physique. (The real "secret of Avalor" is how Esteban singlehandedly managed a country for 41 years and somehow did so without skipping "Leg Day"--am I right, folks?")

Compared to Francisco's much plainer jacket, the design of Esteban's coat is also more ornate (the leaf accents are larger and more detailed) and colorful with the red collar, cuffs, and lining. This makes sense given that Esteban is established as much vainer and more flamboyant than his grandfather and that he has as mentioned, a much stronger need to grab attention.

However, the elaborateness of Esteban's jacket makes even more sense we consider it in the context of his role in Shuriki's court. He is a skilled diplomat, yes, and a capable administrator. But like every courtier, his primary function is to be ornamental first and everything else second. His looks, his charm, his attentions are expected to always be in service to the Queen first and foremost--not even in service to his duty or his country but specifically to the Queen herself. Certainly not (!) in service to his own will. (And damn, that must sting extra hard for someone who has only ever wanted to be seen and listened to and valued for himself.)

As such, Esteban is treated as an extension of the Queen--yet another pretty-if-powerful tool in her Almighty hands and fundamentally little different from her pretty crystal wand.

And yet, we see little tiny little hints in Esteban's SoA costume that he remains more than just Shuriki's shiny little Avaloran ornament. Let's go back to the red accents--shall we? Obviously, the show as a whole establishes red as Esteban's "signature color"--an honor he shares with Elena (and Mateo..but like he's less relevant tbh). Moreover, red, along with yellow/gold (and blue but again less relevant here), is one of the official colors of Avalor. Indeed the jaquins on the royal flag are red against a gold backdrop. So we can see an subtle wardrobe-related foreshadowing of where Esteban's loyalties truly lie and of the decision that he will make at the end of the episode.

And finally, as the artists among you will attest, red's complementary opposite on the color wheel is green. As in Shuriki's signature color, and this is reflected in nearly everything about her--from her eyes and eyeshadow to her dress and earrings to her green magical smoke, to her Emerald City-core dressing room to the teal background on her little silhouetted flag redesign. And complementary colors are often paired together so that the unique, striking shade of each is shown off to its full potential--and such is the case here. (Often, the effect is even achieved by using the "opposite" color as a key part of adding "shading" to the object).

A string of red lights wrapped around a Christmas tree may be overshadowed at first by the massive green boughs that it is entangled around. But nevertheless, it is because of the contrasting green that we are fully able to grasp just how bright and red those lights are able to glisten in the light. And so it is with Esteban's red collar shining forth like a beacon through Shuriki's haze of green smoke.

But when it comes down to it, red is still green's perfect, natural opposite. Red is a primary color, a true chromatic original unlike the artificially-created secondary shade of green. Moreover, red is Avalor, red is Esteban. The little dab of invading, interloping Shuriki green that has been added to the red paint only serves to heighten its fiery, crimson hue all the more.