#i keep feeling like i have to be on here All The Time to maintain social progress ive made instead of trying to find a balance of being

[tropes-and-tales]

First Time for Everything

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

CW:  Angst (friends-with-benefits; idiots in love; talk of bad past relationships; injuries); smut (vague references to sex; oral sex gone awry); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5591

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way. Likely grammar bugaboos, tense switches, etc.

Bob Floyd would have never thought he’d end up in a friends-with-benefits situation, but there’s a first time for everything.

You’re the one who drives the entire enterprise.  A civilian who works at Top Gun, you’re no stranger to the stress of dealing with a multi-billion-dollar fleet of planes.  You serve as a liaison between the Navy and the bevy of contractors who build and maintain the planes, and if Bob has to juggle a million complicated systems mid-flight, you have to juggle a million tricky relationships and contracts on the ground.

You put the question to him, late one night at the Hard Deck.  Harvard and Yale had been leading a spirited conversation about dry spells, long distant relationships, juggling hook-ups.  You and Bob sat there, listening but adding little.  But after the other Daggers started to peel away one by one, you had turned to Bob and started asking about his love life.

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence—you sipped at your drink; Bob cracked another peanut.

“Any prospects?” you asked.

Another shake of his head.

“Yeah, same here,” you replied.

Then there was another long stretch of silence, but this time you fixed Bob with a curious look.  It lasted long enough for him to notice, for him to squirm in his seat—

“So, I have an idea, and you’re totally free to say ‘no,’” you started, and the rest was history.

-----

That was months ago.  Bob has gotten to know you much better since then.

Much, much better.

He knows what you feel like.  He knows what you taste like.  He knows the place on your neck that makes you keen when he puts his mouth to it.  He knows exactly where to press the tips of his fingers when they are inside you, where to find the spot that makes your pussy pulse with arousal, that makes your breathing stutter and your eyes roll back, that makes you moan out his name—

He knows how it sounds when you moan his name, and he knows how that affects him in turn, and he knows that he doesn’t know nearly enough about you.

He doesn’t know what you eat for breakfast or how you take your coffee or if you even drink coffee at all.  He doesn’t know much about your family, little about your childhood, only a bit about your wants and likes and dislikes.

Because of the rules you laid out that night at the Hard Deck.

Hooking up, friends-with-benefits, you had explained, requires clear lines be drawn.  Otherwise, it gets messy.  Feelings develop.  Misunderstandings happen.  People get hurt, sometimes badly.

Your rules keep those lines clearly drawn.  No spending the night.  No dates beyond sex—no lunch dates or movie nights, no days at the beach together.  You call each other and make plans to fuck, and then you part, and that keeps it neat.  Clean.

There’s no way you can know it, because you don’t really know Bob either, but there’s no rule on earth you could put in place that would keep him from falling for you anyway.  You work with numbers and contracts all day, so you believe in the power of words, in rules. 

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you.  That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him.  That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough.  The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place.  The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

Which is why your rules turn out to be so important after all:  because here he is, hopelessly, painfully in love while you only see him a safe place to release your sexual frustrations.  He cannot imagine how much worse it would hurt if those lines didn’t exist.

*****

You have a chronic issue with men.

You pick the worst possible boyfriends.  From high school until now, you seem to only attract cheaters, losers, and general assholes.  Numerous boyfriends cheated on you.  One stole your car.  One stole your prescription sleeping pills and got arrested trying to sell them. 

It’s not that you’re attracted to assholes, really.  The whole bad-boy schtick bores you.  It’s more that you like to fix things; you like to turn chaos into order.  That trait serves you well at work, untangling all the intricate contracts and orders and rules between the Navy and their contractors. 

That trait serves you less well in love, because people often can’t be fixed, at least not without wanting to be fixed.  And anyway, the guys you date need deep fucking therapy, not a girlfriend with a fetish for setting order to the universe.

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood:  the only child of two career Army parents.  Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested.  Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

But the therapist did make you aware of your bad patterns with men, so you swear off relationships, which is easy enough. 

You still have needs, though.

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month.  Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too.  Profile them, watched how they acted when they think no one is watching.  Watch them sober, watch them drunk.  Watch to see which ones are handsy in an unwelcome way, and which ones remain respectful.

It’s Bob Floyd who catches your eye.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually.  Quiet, reserved.  Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs.  Plays pool when someone needs an opponent.  Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home.  He’s so stable and pulled-together.  You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car.  Not your type at all.

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way.  Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome. 

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually, but you aren’t looking for a boyfriend or a future husband.  You just need a zero risk, reliable guy to get off with.  It seems like a long shot because Bob is so quiet, but when you put the idea to him, he blinks…then asks you to clarify.

Then he agrees.

-----

That was months ago.

The arrangement works.  It’s exactly what you were looking for.  Bob Floyd is exactly what you thought he was:  reliable, steady.  He’s no broken man-child; he’s quiet but that belies a secure sort of masculinity that you’ve never really experienced before.  He knows who he is and what he wants, and he isn’t swayed by anything.  He’s solid.

He’s also surprising, in some ways.

To be crude about it, in looking for a friend-with-benefits, you needed only two things in a man:  a clean bill of health and a hard dick.  Bob is able to provide both (he hands you his test results from his latest physical, neatly folded in an envelope the first night you meet up).

He is also able to provide more than that.  The first night is a little awkward, but only because you are near-strangers.

The second encounter is better.

The third encounter is…wonderful.  It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems.  Calibrating you.  Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again.  Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm.  Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

It's been months, but for fucks sake, you’re falling for him.  It’s embarrassing, because you gave him this tough-girl speech about rules and lines and not catching feelings, and he had nodded seriously and said he understood…and now here you are, the idiot who is catching feelings, who is realizing that maybe your type of man was wrong all along, that maybe who you needed was a reliable, steady man with warmth and blue eyes that swim a bit behind the lens of his thick glasses.

*****

It’s been months, and Bob always worries that this arrangement will end. 

One of your rules had been that the arrangement stops the moment one of you find someone else, and Bob always worries that someone else will catch your eye.  That you’ll find some man—you are surrounded by handsome, capable men every day, for heaven’s sake—that you find an appealing prospect.  Someone you want to sleep with and be with.

Someone better than him.

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence.  He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend?  If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date.  Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach.  If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks.  If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

Bob decides to do what he can, which is to just be the best lover he can be.  To be the most considerate, most adventuresome, most giving man you’ve ever taken to bed.  It’s all he can do anyway, so he might as well give it his best.

-----

Bob usually lets you lead.  He lets you set the schedule, and for every five times you call to hook-up, he calls once. 

The arrangement, such as it is, does work for him.  For all the angst of his unrequited love for you, the hooking up does relax him.  It helps him burn off extra energy, which helps him focus at work.

It also helps him explore things he has never tried before.

With you, Bob has played around with role play:  tame scenarios where he gets to pretend that he’s a different person than he is.  He has tried a variety of positions that have tested him in both strength and flexibility.  If there’s a list of sexual acts, Bob feels like he’s steadily working through it with you.

There’s still one, though…

It’s Fritz who starts the conversation at the Hard Deck.  You’re not there, but the guys all are, and the conversation drifts towards the usual locker room talk.  Fritz kicks it off by talking about his latest girl.  The guys egg him on for details.  Bob grins around the rim of his glass, says little, but then Fritz says, “man, when she sits on my face and smothers me in that pussy, I could die happy.”

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts:  have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

The idea takes hold so fiercely that Bob has to shift in his seat, suddenly warm at the thought of you sitting on him, his mouth on you.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and he’s sending you a text before he even has a beat to rethink it.

Want to meet up tonight?

You reply within a minute.

Sure.  Mine or yours?

Bob pauses and considers.  He catches Rooster’s eye and tilts his head at him, gesturing to his roommate for a sidebar.  Rooster comes over and stands beside Bob.

“What’s up?” Rooster asks.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

Rooster grins at the question.  It’s not exactly a secret that you and Bob are hooking up, though you don’t publicize it either.  Bob doesn’t know that his fellow Daggers have a betting pool about how the situation with you will resolve.  He’s caught the sly grins between them sometimes and wondered at what they mean.

“You asking if the apartment will be empty?” Rooster asks.  “Hell, Baby on Board.  Keep it to your room.  I don’t care what happens in the privacy of your own room.”

Bob can’t help the blush that heats his face.  He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but sometime the two of you get lost in the moment, and more than once, Rooster has sidled up to Bob the day after and clapped him on the back, congratulated him on his prowess—

Rooster catches the man’s discomfort and elbows him in the side.  “I was planning on finding myself some companionship for the night,” he finally says.  “The place is all yours.”

Bob thanks him, then texts you. 

My place?

Another beat before your answer comes.  When?

Now.

*****

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

Like his text.  No softening his final message, just a simple, single word that holds a universe of promise.

Now.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur.  You only take a minute to brush your teeth and slip into nicer lingerie, but then you get in your car and head over to his place.

He must have been waiting at the window, watching for you.  You aren’t even halfway up the steps to his porch when the door swings open, and there he is. 

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him.  He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

-----

“Explain it…again,” you manage to get out between kisses.  “How does…it work?”

Bob raises himself, props himself on his forearms on either side of your head.  His hair is mussed (perfect), and his glasses are on the bedside stand, so his blue eyes peer down at you. 

“You sit on my face,” he replies simply.

You huff out a breath.  “Sure, but….like, how?  I weigh a lot—”

He shakes his head.  “Not a problem for me, honey.”

“But I could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could kill you.” 

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist.  “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

“Not funny!”  You poke him in the side, and he laughs again.

“Seriously, Bob.  I don’t want to hurt you,” you continue.

“You won’t.  I promise.  It’ll be fine.  But I want to do this.”  His smile fades, and he fixes you with a darker look that sends a bolt of lust right through your core.  “Please.”

*****

The two of you, once you got over your initial awkwardness, usually move so well together.  Perfectly coordinated, in sync. 

This…is not that.

For the first time, the two of you aren’t working together.  Bob can’t know it, but it’s not just a physical misalignment—there are hidden feelings at play.  As you tentatively hover over where he lays on the bed, you feel suddenly exposed, like Bob might be able to see the feelings you’ve caught for him.  It’s so intimate, you think, being so bared to him.  You hold yourself back, shy, and Bob doesn’t understand the sudden reticence in you.  He chalks it up to fear of hurting him.

And you can’t know it, but Bob absolutely loves how intimate it is, being so exposed to him.  There are hidden feelings on his side too—how hard it hits him, that he’s never done this with another woman before, and how he cannot imagine doing it with another one after you.  He’s ravenous for you, wants to possess you in every way he can, but when he tries to tug you closer to him, you chalk it up to general horniness and nothing more.

It is all misunderstanding, in the end.  You hold yourself back, hover over his face.  He grips your hips, tries to pull you to him.  The two of you struggle against the other, not understanding what is really driving the other—

“Come on,” he growls.  “Give it to me, honey.”

“Bob, I don’t—”

“I can take it.”

“But I—”

It happens in a split second.  Bob tugs you down against him in the exact moment you try to get a better balance over him, and the force of his pulling you down is added to the full weight of you shifting, with a bit of gravity, and you hit Bob so hard.

There’s a sickening crack, like a chicken bone snapping.  You look down at him, startled, and see his blue eyes widen in pain—shock—

You scramble off of him, call his name, but he doesn’t move, and then you see it.

Blood.  There’s so much blood, all over his face, and you yell his name now, but he still doesn’t move—

You’ve killed him.  You’ve murdered him, and you scream.  You reach for your phone and fumble it, and your body just acts.  You back away, your mind scrambling, and you think I need to stop the bleeding, so you think to go to the bathroom for a towel, but when you pivot quick on your heel and turn towards the closed door, it is already swinging inward, right at your face, hard, and there’s an explosion of pain behind your eyes.

Then everything goes dark, and you don’t wake until you’re in the ambulance.

*****

Bob wakes up to the paramedics sliding him onto the backboard, his head immobilized between two foam blocks.  Rooster hovers at the perimeter, a worried look on his face.

“What—” Bob manages to croak out, but the room grows dim again, and he fades in and out until the hospital.

-----

He comes to and stays awake in a quiet hospital room.  There’s the steady beep of a monitor somewhere behind and above him.  When he tries to turn his head, though, he finds himself held in place by a brace.

“You’re awake finally.”  The voice is familiar, and a moment later, Phoenix’s face swims into his peripherals. 

“You scared us, Baby on Board.”  Rooster, to the left of him.

“Who knew you had it in you?”  The voice at the foot of the bed, the hint of smarm.  Bob feels a hand on his ankle, jostling him lightly.  “You dirty fucking freak.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”  Phoenix glares at the cocky pilot, then turns back to Bob, her gaze softening.  “How are you feeling?”

He considers his answer.  He feels…rough. 

He also notices that his Dagger teammates are there, but you are not.  Which makes him feel worse.

Phoenix seems to read his thoughts.  Something in his expression must give him away, because she leans in closer and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s still downstairs,” she says, low near his ear.  “You got a room, but she’s still in the E.R.  They haven’t released her yet.”

“E.R.?”

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh.  “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.”

Rooster steps closer to the bed and grins down at him.  “You’re lucky I struck out at the Hard Deck.  I come home, barely get my shoes off, when I hear a scream.  I go running back to your room just in time to knock your girl out.  She ran headfirst into the door when I opened it.”  He claps his hands together.  “Down like a bag of rocks.”

Bob’s heart rate picks up, and the monitor registers it.  Phoenix glances at the machine and snorts again.

“She’s fine,” she assures him.  “I’ve been bouncing between you and her.  It’s just slammed down there, so she’s been waiting for the doctor to release her.”

“She’s okay then?”

Phoenix nods.  “Dislocated nose.  Slight concussion.  Embarrassed.  Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Bob smiles despite himself.  “She thought I was dead?”

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in.  “And broke your nose.”

“You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds.

“She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues.  “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

“Wow.”  Bob breathes out a reedy whistle.  “And you’re sure she’s okay?”

Phoenix nods again.

Rooster and Hangman offer to go grab some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving Bob and his partner alone.  Phoenix drags a chair over and settles closer to him, and Bob feels his mood sour little by little.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix finally asks. 

He lifts his hand, drops it back onto the bed.  “I guess it’s ruined now.”

“What is?”

“Our…arrangement.  Mine and hers.”

She tilts her head.  “How so?”

“She has all these rules.  To keep it clean.  To keep feelings out, you know?”  He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage.  “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.”

Phoenix stares at him, but a smile starts to creep across her face.  She shakes her head then, grips his shoulder again.

“Do you love her, Bobby?”  The question is asked softly, kindly.

Bob forgets the brace for a second and tries to nod.  “Yeah.”

“You ever tell her?”

“Against the rules.”

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?”

“No.”

Her smile widens.  “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

*****

Hangman’s the one who stops to check in on you.  He has a paper cup of coffee in each hand, and he holds both up to you.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked.  One is black, one is cream and sugar.”

“Cream and sugar, please.”

He walks over to your bed and hands it to you, then studies you.  You know you must look like hell—your eyes red from the hysterical crying of thinking yourself a murderer.  Your nose—not broken, only dislocated—swollen and tender.  And the general misery of how badly everything has turned out.

“You like the little nerd, huh?”

You take a sip of the coffee and thank him for it. 

You don’t answer his question.

Hangman sighs, leans against the wall.  “It’s just that, if you do, I’d like to know.  I have a lot riding on it.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.”  He sips his own coffee, smiles at you.  “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.”

“You bet on us?”

He holds up a hand.  “Whoa.  All the Daggers bet on you.  It wasn’t just me.”

You shake your head.  “I don’t understand.”

“Some of us bet that you’d end up together.  Others bet that you wouldn’t.  Not that hard to understand.”

You try to take a steadying breath through your nose, which is an effort with how swollen it is.  You look away from him and fix your eyes on the open doorway of your room.  You watch the nurses and doctors scurry back and forth, the gurneys of hurt and sick people. 

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer.  “I nearly killed the guy.  Is there a pool on that?”

Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed.  “You didn’t nearly kill him.  You only lightly injured him.  Then Bradley lightly injured you.  It’s hilarious.”

You can only wince at his word choice.  It’s not funny at all.  Miramar is a gossipy hive of rumor, and Bob’s injuries will put him out of commission for at least a while—

“Is this gonna hurt his career at Top Gun?” you ask Hangman.  You glance over at him and catch the way his expression softens at the angst in your voice.  “Did I just fuck up his life completely?”

He reaches out and grasps your hand for a moment, gives you a friendly squeeze before he releases you.  “Shit happens.  The Navy knows that.”

“Still…”

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.”  The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.”  A beat.  “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy.  He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

“Jesus,” you groan, and you cover your face with your hands while Hangman laughs, but a second later the doctor enters your room and tells you that you are being released.

Hangman doesn’t take the hint and leave.  He watches you sign off on your discharge papers, sips his coffee.  He hands you your shoes, and he helpfully holds out your coat so you can slide into it.

“That little nerd loves you, you know,” he says suddenly.  “It’s obvious as hell, which is why I laid a big bet on it.”

“He does?”  The surprise in your voice makes him chuckle, then shake his head.

“Probably hard to see it from where you’re sitting, but he does.  His dumb face lights up the minute he sees you, and when you aren’t around, he’s like a lost puppy.  So if you feel even an inkling of the same for him, just go upstairs and put him out of his misery, okay?”

It feels like grace you don’t deserve.  You hurt Bob, even if you hadn’t meant to, and for Hangman to offer this sliver of hope you don’t think you deserve—

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.  Hangman doesn’t remark on them; he only stands by the doorway and waits for you.

“You’re a regular Cupid, Jake,” you offer.

“Nah.”  He finishes off his coffee, crumples the cup, and tosses it in the nearby trash can.  “I just want that fucking pool money.”

-----

The tears that threatened downstairs…they break free the moment you finally see him.

He looks awful.  He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first.  His nose is swollen in a splint, he’s in a neck brace, and both eyes are so bruised that they can barely open beyond slits.

But his smile…

God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said:  his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt.  It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man.  That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured.  That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you.  Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

Phoenix and Rooster have the good sense to leave, ushering Hangman along with them.  Bob, when he sees the tears coursing down your face, frowns and holds a hand out to you.

“I’m okay.  I’m okay.  It’s fine,” he repeats.  You make your way over to him and take his hand, and maybe it is okay.  He holds you tight, his big, warm palm enfolding yours—

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You shake your head.  You’re not okay at all.  You don’t know if Jake was lying, but you can’t lie to Bob anymore just as you can’t lie to yourself.

“I broke one of the rules,” you admit.  You watch him, wary.  You have the sense of how he might react, but you can’t know for sure.  You just have to push through and say it.  Put it out there.

“I broke a rule too,” he replies.  He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah?”  It comes out shaky, unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Which rule?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss to the back of it.  He’s so damned soft, and you blink against the fresh tears that threaten to spill over your face.

“It’s your own fault,” he grumbles, but he smiles when he says it.  “If you didn’t want me falling for you, you shouldn’t have been so easy to fall for.”

You laugh, a nervous sound that nudges up against the wall of tears you’re struggling to hold back.  “Even though I almost killed you?”

“I mean, you didn’t almost kill me, but you definitely owe me for all this.”  He gestures with his free hand at his face. 

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—”

“Just a date,” he interrupts.  “I just want one date with you.”

“That’s it?”  The sick feeling in your stomach starts to recede, and it’s replaced by the fluttery feeling of promise, of something new and wonderful starting. 

“Just once chance to show you how good it could be.”  His expression is dead serious, and he squeezes your hand again.  “Me and you.  For real this time.”

“I, uh…”  You clear your throat and glance at his bright blue gaze, then look away.  You fix your eyes on where your hands are joined together.  Your hand fits perfectly in his.

“I’ve only ever dated assholes,” you admit.  Another glance at him to see how he takes in your words.  “Guys who don’t have their shit together.  It’s why I wanted the whole…arrangement with you.  I’ve never been with a man who didn’t need, like, intensive therapy.  Or the occasional law enforcement intervention.”

“First time for everything,” Bob replies mildly.

“What if…what if I don’t know how to be in a relationship unless…unless…”  You trail off, not sure how to say it without it sounding completely terrible…but then, the reality of your dating life has been completely terrible anyway.

“You afraid you don’t know how to be in a relationship unless you’re miserable?” he asks gently. 

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.”  He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him.  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

You perch awkwardly on the sliver of bed available to you, but Bob reaches up and gets a hand on your shoulder, tugs you gently down towards him.  It’s careful maneuvering—a stark difference to what got you here—but you eventually get comfortable beside him, your cheek against his shoulder, your temple against the hard molded plastic of his brace.  His hand finds yours again, and he threads his fingers through yours.

“What if we started with that one date you owe me?” he offers.  “And then maybe a second date.  I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you see how it feels to not be miserable.”

One date, maybe a second.

“I think I can handle that,” you reply.

“Then a third date, then another.”

You smile.  “Okay.”

“Maybe around, say, the fifth date, you can spend the night.  Let me make you pancakes in the morning.  Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Okay.”

“Then after maybe a month, you could keep some stuff at my place.  Shampoo, extra clothes.  So you’re comfortable.”

“I could take you to my favorite taco place,” you offer.  “Over in Imperial County.”

“I’d like that.”  He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.”

“Would they make me miserable?” you tease.

“Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back.  “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

“They sound horrible,” you laugh. 

“The worst.”  He chuckles, and a long moment of silence stretches between you, but it’s comfortable.  His warm hand in yours, the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring him, the steady sound of his breathing…the slightly whistling quality of your own breathing through your swollen nose. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a girl home to meet my family before,” he says, and his voice is serious.  “Never even considered it before.”

You lift your head a bit to look at him, and you see the thoughtful quality of his expression.  You settle back against him.

“And you’re considering it with the girl who broke your neck, broke your nose, and shamed you in front of the United States Navy?”

He chuckles again.  “You didn’t break my neck and I’m not in trouble with the Navy,” he says.  “And yes, I’ve considered it.  First time for everything.”

He doesn’t add anything else, and the drama of the evening starts to hit you.  You feel your eyes getting heavy, start to doze off in the hospital bed with him.  His verb tense choice, though—he has considered it, past tense, not is considering it, present tense—makes you wonder how long Bob might have been breaking that rule…

Bob doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks it:  he never took a girl home to his family because he vowed to only ever do it once—with the girl he plans to marry. 

[doublequaterpounder]

Ay Yo gaining. advice that has really worked for me!!!!

when i first started in this world i thought the only way to gain was stuffig! and while yeah its hot it lead me down a path of overeating and feeling super uncomfy and often spoiling my appetite for a few days tbh. id frighten myself with how much food i had and wouldn’t eat as much cause i couldn’t keep up in my head the stuffing sessions often enough

Here’s what i’ve found really helps which idk it seems obvious but not as hot as the fantasy of a huge stuffing for every meal. it’s just slightly increased portions of stuff i’d already be eating if im having a sandwich maybe have two or and and half, just take a larger serving of dinner

just slightly over eat so your at a soft level of fullness it’s noticeable but i haven’t been overstuffed and unable to function

i’ve been doing this for a like a week and a bit now and i’ve put on 6lbs and i’ve been so much hungrier than i used to be, my stomach understands the assignment and im needing more and more food casually instead of one big stuffing just increasing everting and when i do t feel as full i just grab a snack it’s not uncomfy full just noticeable enough

idk if this’ll work for you but gaining doesn’t mean making yourself feel sick or uncomfortable with crazy big stuffings constantly that’s just not maintainable and will lead to burn out just have to eat a bit more all the time

[jweekgoji]

psst

if u have time pls do a continuation of the Yandere d-16 and reader but somehow he finds the reader when he’s Megatron and this time HE tops

Yandere!Megatron/Reader [TFO]

tw: ROBOTS sexxx (minors don't read please), possesive behavior, mentions of jealousy, brief violence/threats, biting, word count: ~1,2k additional tags: dom!Megatron, sub!reader, decepticon!reader, idol!reader, cybertronian!reader. a/n: it's not like /megs/ finds reader here but the other way around (ig) hehe.

The news of the sudden death of Sentinel Prime had reached you suddenly. Another ordinary, simple day, as it seemed back then. You were used to living in comfort and coziness, after all, from the moment you were born, you were special. At least, you couldn't help but feel that way in a privileged society.

Now, thinking about it, a feeling of pity and wrongness overwhelms your thoughts. It was no surprise that those who were unlucky enough to be born with t-cog had no choice but to dedicate their entire existence for the greater good of your entire race.

Standing humbly behind the decepticon leader's back, you only gave a silent glance in his direction. How much had he managed to endure? What exactly did he have witnessed that day when he went from an obedient and shy D-16 to...

“Why are you still here?” a deep, gravelly voice suddenly yanked you out of your thoughts.

For a moment, you didn't know what to answer. Was it that important? No, you never noticed him asking the same question to the others.

“To fight alongside you, Megatron,” you quickly replied, your arms kept hidden behind your back, like a well-trained soldier.

A soft, almost inaudible huff escaped from his lips as he shook his helm in mild frustration. He slowly turned around to bore his own red optics into yours. Weren't they orange? You didn't recall.

“That's not what I asked you,” Megatron narrowed his optics, his gaze still as stern. “You know what I'm talking about.”

You tilted your helm down, as if in submission or simply unable to maintain eye contact with him. Either way, an ominous feeling of regret continued to grow inside you, despite how often you tried convincing yourself that it was never your fault.

Funny, isn't it? It seemed like a while ago, here were the two of you right next to each other. His smaller, so small but never fragile frame, was so tender in your servos.

The chassis was completely tarnished in little bruises and scratches, yet it was always a pleasure to gently run your servo over the surface of the silver metal, feeling how the mech beneath you could only bite his fist in a desperate attempt to not make a single sound.

But now, everything seems so different, strange perhaps, but at the same time in its own way familiar. Above you now is a different person; to deny that would be foolish, if not pointless.

The frame is wider, much bigger, than you can remember. The chassis is now peppered with a lot of scars after numerous battles in which you can only feel sorry for every opponent he's faced. All stained in energon, the pink liquid slowly oozing out to smear your own frame. You know it doesn't belong to him.

“Mine, you're all mine,” his servo tightening around your wrists, pinning them both above your helm.

Megatron's heavy breathing made a pleasant shiver run along your spine, and almost instinctively, you pressed your hips against his own.

Everything felt so hot now, so suffocating, that you were barely hanging on to keep from passing out. His chassis only pressed you down further, taking away any chance you had of escaping.

You wish you could tell him so much now. That now, all in his power, you would have never dared to leave him at a moment like this. You would take whatever he would choose to give you, even though he was still inexperienced with controlling his own power.

The thoughts of the past fight gave Megatron no relief. It seemed that the more he focused on the past, the more he wanted to lash out with all of his pent-up anger at you. And you would take it, wouldn't you? You'd always come back and beg for more.

His servo squeezes your thigh, stroking and massaging, then, moves only lower to forcefully spread your legs. Your interface panel was open long ago, presenting him your soaking wet port. Getting off on this as much as he is, what a freaking pathetic duo you both are. That is why you have always been perfect for him, he thinks.

With a rough thrust, Megatron buries his spike inside you to a halt; the way you squeeze around him, writhing in pain and pleasure, is a godlike sight for him. Primus, he should have done that a long, long time ago. If only he wasn't so meek and weak-willed back then, but now he's thankful for it.

He lets out a low, guttural growl as he slams his hips against yours once again, receiving a soft whine. A small, still sensible part of him restrains himself to ruin your body more. That deep-rooted care and desire, genuine love, still makes him act all soft with you. It tells him to leave more kisses, to shower you in that love and care he grew for you for cycles from only observing.

Megatron grits his teeth at the thought. Acting soft and weak already cost him enough suffering in the past. Making the same mistakes again will only show off how little he changed since that day...

He tastes the energon on his glossa, leaving a cold, wet trail of saliva on your neck, only to be followed by a sudden bite, which makes you gasp in surprise.

It was a miracle that no one had entered the room by that time, with none of you trying to hide your gasps and moans from the potential listeners. Perhaps, they already found out; even Starscream, with how often he comes here to complain and grumble about everything, doesn't dare to bother Megatron at the moment of raw need, adrenaline rushing through the whole frame.

Your soft moans are music to Megatron's mind. Every single time you let out his name, breathlessly asking for more, only makes him pepper your neck in wet kisses, more of those bleeding marks forever marking your body. That is how it should be, how it always should have been. You underneath him, so beautiful and perfect, and the most important, this way everyone will know that you are his.

He had grown tired of competing for your attention since when he was a miner. Every day of hard work, daydreaming about you, of you finally noticing him instead of attending another race, with countless of other Iaconians showing their love for you. He would not make any more mistakes.

His, his and only.

“If you ever think of leaving me,” Megatron leans his helm closer to you, burying your face into the crook of your neck. “I will find and kill you with my own servos.”

What you said to him that day never left the mind of the leader of the decepticons. And it seemed that from that moment on, your relationship with each other took on a very different direction.y

Who knew that the threat of your own execution by no one else, but Megatron, would sound so hot to you?

[sleepystargaze]

Why You May Not Relate to Vi's Choices in Season 2

Vi is an adult who was parentified as a child, and her actions are largely influenced by the lasting psychological effects.

If you aren't familiar, parentification is when children become caregivers in their families and take on responsibilities that are inappropriate for their age. These responsibilities are often beyond their capacity, either because they lack the knowledge or the emotional maturity to perform these adult roles.

In Vi's case, she was largely left to care for the well-being of her siblings in the place of a consistent parental figure. And likely even before they lost their parents, Vi was left to care for Powder when her parents could not. The show literally starts with Powder in the care of Vi. Which can also explain why Vi was very deeply affected by the loss of their parents, while Powder was not, since Vi would likely have been her primary caretaker.

In adults, this generally can results in:

difficulty functioning independently

a greater risk of anxiety, depression, and substance abuse

difficulty setting boundaries: generally neglecting oneself to satisfy the needs of others

trouble relinquishing control

feeling a need to be a peacekeeper

tending to be a "fixer"

There are other things, but the ones above are the ones relevant to this discussion and they constitute a significant majority of the signs in adults. So, with this context in mind, let's take a trip down memory lane.

Inmate 516

Humans don't exist in a vacuum, but Vi lived in the closest mental equivalent of it with her time in Stillwater. I don't think it's a stretch to assume the Vi that Caitlyn meets is much more emotionally grown than the young teenager who was dragged off by Marcus.

The one thing I've gleaned from the show about Vi's time here is that she has this Schrodinger's Powder thing going. She tells conflicting stories to Caitlyn and Jinx, but neither seem like a lie. She believed, or "knew", her sister was dead but persisted with the thought that she'll get out and return to Powder some day.

So, to survive her years at Stillwater, the only thing keeping her going is this idea. Her own self-preservation is reliant on this feeling that she could return to not only Powder, but also the way things were. She still wants to take care of her sister. And honestly, it's only further reinforced by Vander's last words, "Take care of Powder."

Enter Caitlyn from stage right, detective extraordinaire, bearing the sole evidence that Powder is, in fact, alive. Vi's daydream becomes a reality and she wastes no time shooting any shot she can to get out of Stillwater.

A Little Walkabout with a Piltie: Part 1

Gather round ladies and gentleman, here we have our top hits under the "trouble relinquishing control" category, featuring:

"Too risky": a tale of avoiding bathyspheres.

"Don't you wanna blend in?": There are easier ways to get people out of their clothes, but I guess forcefully throwing clothes you just stole off a stranger 5 minutes ago works, too.

"We're here because I'm hungry.": Not the best first date, but at least the food was good.

And a fan favorite, "You're hot, Cupcake."

Jokes aside, all of these actions are meant to maintain control over Caitlyn. This is Caitlyn's investigation, Caitlyn released her, and Caitlyn is an enforcer. All things that should give her control, but Vi is not having any of that knowing Powder is out there. Thing is, though, the result would likely be the same if she did let Caitlyn have more agency. Afterall, they looking for the same person. The only thing she is gaining by doing these things is the control itself.

A Little Walkabout with a Piltie: Part 2

Well, our favorite redhead runs off to get stabbed and has to be nursed back to health by Caitlyn. Here, we have a significant dynamic shift. Caitlyn tells Vi she has a "good heart." Right before Vi passes out, she hears Vander telling her the same echoing in her head. When she wakes she sees:

Vander and her mom, Felicia, were Vi's major caretakers growing up. When Vi becomes conscious to her surroundings, she's met with Caitlyn caressing her face. Suddenly, Vi is associating these people's care for her with Caitlyn. It is exactly at this time that Vi begins opening up and allows Caitlyn to act as a caretaker.

Flash Forward to Tragedy

Well, we all know what happens, but the major takeaways here are Caitlyn has suddenly lost a parent and Vi has realized she can no longer help Jinx, she cannot "fix" her.

Caitlyn is no longer in a position to care for Vi in the way Vi needs, and Vi needs someone to care for. The roles in their relationship have suddenly been reserved. When Caitlyn opens up about the void her mother left, she says, "It's all coming apart."

Vi tells her "We won't let it."

If Caitlyn needs to keep things together and needs to feel control in her life again, then that is now also what Vi needs.

The Grim Truth of the Matter

Honestly, the most harmful thing for people who were parentified as a child is the fact that it becomes extremely difficult for the person to prioritize themselves over others, especially the ones they love regardless of if those loved ones treat the parentified adult fairly or not. You would be amazed the degree to which a parentified individual will let themselves turn a blind eye and forgive and sacrifice themselves.

I think a lot of people found Vi's story arc dissatisfying in season 2, because a lot of it relied on other people and her making seemingly uncharacteristic choices. Like her purpose in the show was solely to help other storylines. The sad truth is, parentification creates a severe lack of sense of self, and I think this is the biggest hidden battle for Vi throughout season 2. Who is she when she isn't acting in the interest of others? What needs to happen for her to let all of that go? How do you show that?

It doesn't feel great, because at the end she's only at the beginning of her healing journey. And if you have trouble relating to her struggles, you probably weren't a parentified child, yourself. It's hard to understand the effort required to let go, and by the end, Vi has. I think my favorite representation of this change is how she has less bindings as the story progresses until, by the end, she has none. She has finally unburdened herself and is learning to prioritize her own needs, and now she can finally begin to properly heal.

No, it's not the most satisfying ending for a character arc, but not all major wins end in thunderous applause and fanfare.

[tonguetiedraven]

Yukio is a Pragmatic Babysitter and Rin is a Chaos Gremlin

Part two of my Critically Reading about Yukio. Part one is here.

We're going to look over a couple of chapter in this analysis with a focus specifically on Yukio's job and role as Rin's guardian and secret keeper, because god love him, Rin is not a secret keeper.

Have you ever tried to babysit a hyper toddler who doesn't listen to you? Yukio has. It's become Yukio's job at this point.

I also feel I should state that I am writing this as a middle sibling. I have both older and younger siblings and have, like most older siblings, been responsible for my younger siblings more than once. I have also been responsible for my older ones on more than one occasion, often to the point that I feel my own life on hold. But I am now an adult unlike these characters and have proper independence.

( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ )

When last we left our two leading characters, Rin had discovered he was sharing a dorm room with his twin and that Yukio had basically been set at his babysitter. Yukio had agreed to watch and protect Rin and knows he is his brother's babysitter.

Rin cannot let anyone know he is the son of Satan. If he does, Mephisto makes it seem very much like there will be an execution. These are the stakes they're playing with. The flames cannot be spotted and Yukio is responsible for guarding his brother and keeping those flames hidden. Rin is not to step out of line and ignite.

Should be fairly simple. Just go to school, go to cram school, get your meisters (once Rin learns what those are) pass the exam and certification, and hey-ho, we have exorcist Rin. Do not ignite and don't stand out. That's the end of chapter 2.

Both twins receive these instructions. Both twins do not follow these instructions. One twin follows it to the letter, one twin half asses it.

It is important to understand that about Rin. He doesn't typically go with things he disagrees with, and he is lazy. He doesn't understand anything about the world he's found himself in and thinks the rules and regulations in it are stupid. He is late for classes, sleeps through them when he can, and fails a lot of tests, possibly from lack of studying, though we don't really see a lot of his study habits. What we do see points to him not doing much of any of it until later on in the series when he starts to study more with his friends. (Namely Konekomaru, Shima, and Ryuuji.)

From the get go we know Yukio is smart. He is the sort of straight A honor student that drives siblings nuts for over achieving. When we find out he's had a job and been training since he was seven, it just pushes the stark difference between these two.

Rin: Lost a job in the first chapter of the manga on his first day.

Yukio: Has had a super secret job for two years while maintaining stellar grades. He also doubled up on that job. (Doctor and Dragoon meister.)

Rin: Somehow miraculously passed middle school despite fighting and not attending. Presumably Shirou begged a lot and went to a lot of parent teacher confrences.

Yukio: Graduated with honors and got the position of top student in the new class. A scholarship too.

Rin: Unpopular and prone to fights. People seem to typically dislike him at the first interactions. In a word? Rude.

Yukio: No one is better at being polite and managing that customer service smile at all times. Even Mephisto cracks that façade quicker than Yukio. Very popular with his classmates and praised by his fellow exorcists.

Rin: Won't follow through on tasks he deems dull or unimportant. (Candles are a great example.)

Yukio: Will do the mindless task even if he doesn't want to and will follow orders. (Until much later when he very dramatically won't.)

Rin: Knows nothing about the world of exorcists, Assiah, or Gehenna.

Yukio: Immensely well versed in it.

There are a lot more I could do, but this gives you the idea. These two brothers are immensely different with Yukio being the smarter and better equipped for their new circumstances in most every way.

Chapter 3 opens with Rin reading one of Yukio's mangas and not studying. Yukio takes it back and gives him a book to study.

First, Rin might have the fire powers but Yukio is the one doing the burns here. Bible for kids xD so rude and pointed. Each of the titles and font choices and illustrations are so good.

Two, the shot of Yukio's exorcist coat and Rin's school uniform is brilliant. The levels of skill and knowledge are right there, beautifully subtle. As is how put together Yukio looks and how sloppy Rin is. Kato does a lot of story telling like this. Details in the design and backgrounds that tell a lot.

Yukio tells Rin to study and is going on a mission. Rin does not want to study and wants to go on the cool mission he is not qualified for. He has no training at all and couldn't sit through a single class without making a scene. All of his demon fights and interactions so far have ended with flames.

Yukio points this out nicer than I would have.

Rin doesn't listen to the no and will honestly never listen to Yukio's no. At any point. The early chapters set this up very clearly. Yukio, who was given the assignment to guard and lead Rin cannot get his brother to listen to any of his orders.

They go to the Moriyamas' supply shop, and I plan on doing a separate post dedicated to Shiemi and Yukio's relationship later, so we're going to glance over this chapter and summarize it.

Rin is told to stay because there's a lot going on in this shop and you have to be a certain rank to even get inside it. He is told very specifically not to wander around and touch anything, and in typical Rin protocol, he's wandering around by the next page.

This is mostly because he's annoyed and frustrated at Yukio bossing him around. At this point I want to remind everyone that MEPHISTO PLANNED ON THIS. Mephisto the Manipulative King of Time and Space has played this rodeo before and is actively pushing and prodding at his pieces (he has referred to all the characters in the story as pieces on his chessboard) to get them to act certain ways. He wants this tension there. These boys are unknowing pawns in his hand.

Or Rin is at least. I rather believe Yukio is a knowing pawn.

Rin wanders off, breaks a demon warding gate, and gets called a demon by Shiemi.

Rin is indignant about this (his exact words are: "I...I'm not a demon! I'm not exactly human either, but... Don't judge me!!" I can only hope part of that was under his breath, lol.)

Things escalate here and it ends with Yukio manipulating Rin into being a distraction for the demon and exorcising it while Rin flames up and unsheathes his sword.

(I do wonder where the hell Miss Moriyama was to not see this. With her connections she'd definitely tell people about a blue flame boy causing chaos in the garden.)

Importantly three things happen here.

One: another tension between the twins is created. Shiemi. This will be in a separate post but I'm just acknowledging it here.

Two: Yukio shoots someone for the first time and we learn about nutrient bullets. They are magic type bullets that look real and apparently do no real damage. Yukio uses these all the time. Usually against Rin, but that'll be later.

Amazingly, I hear a lot about him shooting Rin and have never heard anything about shooting Shiemi, but then almost no one ever talks about when Shiemi is abused so guess you gotta be someone else for it to matter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(I am opinionated on the way fandom treats Shiemi and the abuse, verbal, mental, emotional, and physical that she receives.)

Three: Shiemi joins cram school.

It has been one day of them working together and Rin has already not followed orders and Yukio had to rework his plan to anticipate that and did.

Chapter 4 is all about Ryuuji (my favorite character) and has no real Rin&Yukio advancement outside of Yukio telling Rin he should study like Ryuuji does, but does have an immensely important scene for Yukio at the end.

Yukio is standing by watching the drama of the reapers and Rin and Ryuuji fighting, and he is very clearly armed. Was he to shoot the reaper or Rin? Place your bets. Bearing in mind he has already failed to shoot Rin once when he did not have nutrient bullets.

Chapter 5 is an Izumo and Shiemi focused chapter and really only shows Rin actually sending for Yukio for back up and Yukio sweeping in to save the day.

Also it's important to note that we are five chapters into this story and Rin has flamed up in every single one of them, a little or a lot, and this one he very nearly did because he was trying to draw the sword in full view of Izumo and Shiemi. Rin also loses his shirt and the manga makes a gag about him trying to hide his tail, but don't forget that he has been ordered to hide who he is. Five chapters in and four of them have had that stipulation and Rin seems to be doing very little to really hide himself.

We the readers see all this through his point of view and symphathize with his choices. He has no training and doesn't know how else to fight anything, and he doesn't know a lot about the world to know what is and isn't dangerous. Each situation feels dangerous and like he has to flame up.

But he also won't study and learn other methods. Three of his classmates in the next chapter will show that they know how to fight a demon like this. All of them are in the same classes and have access to the same materials.

One of them will even step up and fight and be hiding a big secret themselves. Technically four of the classmates are hiding secrets at this point, but Shima is the one that can summon a god with his khakkara and just uses it like a bat instead. So it is possible to not reveal ones self and fight.

Rin had other ways, but as Yukio pointed out, he is a bit stupid and doesn't think things through.

Anyway, chapter six happens and the students are brought to the creepy dorm the twins live in for their 'practice' exams. A fight breaks out because Izumo is a bully and it escalates.

I also have to point out that the fight starts while Miss Angeline the aria teacher is in charge. She walks out of the room and leaves Yukio to deal with it. His coworkers are lazy and not a lot of help. Tsubaki has left a class to fend for itself so he could attend a booty call, and what we see of the others in Kyoto show that there is a serious lack of dependable teachers in True Cross. This directly puts more on Yukio's shoulders. He gets responsibilities from everyone.

The test happens and Rin runs off to try and pull the naberius away form the other students. This was a terrible idea especially when Yukio had just finished lecturing about exorcists not fighting alone. He left the other students to fight the remaining naberius alone and weakened the team. It also heightened suspicion around him when he defeated that demon alone. He didn't know there was a second, but he didn't do anything to check or make sure they were safe.

He reveals himself to Igor Neuhaus, the magic circles and summoning teacher, and that is the important beat for this chapter as far as the twins go.

Chapter seven is one I want to slow down and focus on because it has a lot of twin development and Yukio development. He's been more in the background for the last few chapters, and he shines in this one.

Post certification exam, Yukio catches Igor Neuhaus in the office and calls out to him.

We learn a few interesting things here. One, Yukio is a king at pointed business talk. All stern politeness here.

Two: Neuhaus knows who Rin is, Yukio knows he knows who Rin is, and they both know he swore to keep the secret. Rin knows none of this, of course.

Neuhaus gives Yukio some awful news. Mephisto Pheles told him to do it. To push Rin specifically and to try and make him feel in mortal danger push him to use his powers.

Yukio has been told to stop his brother and now he finds that the Demon King who ordered him to do that also told someone else to do the opposite, and Neuhaus knows Yukio is supposed to be the breaks but Yukio did not know Neuhaus was meant to be the gas, meaning that Pheles did not share equal information.

If he didn't tell Yukio that, it is like he has kept a lot else secret.

Yukio goes entirely into serious mode and lies.

Yukio very rarely believes anyone, and he doesn't believe Neuhaus.

Rin has, at this point, not shown himself in control of his emotions and only sort of shown himself in any kind of control of his powers. Yukio knows this first hand and has had to do most of the dealing with Rin's inability to do either of those things. He is the one cleaning up each of the messes and distracting everywhere he can so Rin isn't revealed.

Yukio will unhesitatingly lie to protect Rin and to misdirect when needed. We learn this early and cannot forget it. Rin is not always a dependable person to lean on for pov with his quick and often inaccurate assumptions, and Yukio is not always telling us the truth. These characters require us to pay attention.

More Yukio and Shiemi stuff happens, and we'll cover it later. It's enough to say he's trying to get Shiemi to decide if she wants to be an exorcist or not.

In the middle of their tea this happens.

Yukio has killer instincts. He is always thinking and analyzing something even if he looks to just be enjoying tea and smiling like all is well. Keep that in mind when you're reading. It holds true even when we're not viewing a scene from his pov.

It seems to hold fairly true for this scene as we see the next several panels showing Neuhaus seeming to stab a sleeping Rin, but psych! Yukio had already moved Rin and Neuhaus stabbed a pillow. Yukio is standing there behind him with his gun cocked and Neuhaus has walked into his trap.

Neuhaus summons a lot of hands and runs off and Yukio gives chase. They get to the roof and Rin wakes up, gets an explanation from Shiemi, and runs after both of them.

On the roof Yukio is trying to demand answers and not getting them. It is chapter seven and this will be an immense drive for Yukio. He will keep asking questions and keep not getting answers.

This too I think is a manipulation of Mephisto, and why Mephisto wanted Yukio to know that he gave Neuhaus the orders to be Rin's gas.

Anyway, Yukio seems to be losing (he isn't) and Rin arrives on the roof to take on the summoned monstrosity that Neuhaus created, and Neuhaus, and Yukio is left to his own devices. Rin is getting hammered and looks to be losing, and when things get terrible--

Yukio does what he was clearly planning to do the entire time and just breaks the chalk circle with his foot. Neuhaus himself told the entire class to do that if a summon gets out of control, and Rin even tells Izumo to do this.

This is probably the most useful thing we have learned in class and almost everyone makes this mistake at least once in the manga. Everyone but Yukio.

Neuhaus keeps trying to kill Rin and Yukio pleads with him to stop because Neuhaus is now at the dangerous point of blood loss and will probably kill himself in this endeavor. Neuhaus doesn't stop and stabs Rin through the gut with a summoned arm.

Rin diffuses the situation by telling Neuhaus he can take it and to keep dishing it out if that'll make him feel better, and Neuhaus walks off not to be seen again for quite a while.

Yukio hurries forward to do what he always does when he's frustrated. Lecture because Rin didn't listen to him and put himself in danger.

There are two thins I want to discuss here.

One, Rin sees no problem with just being torn the hell apart in a fight if it saves someone else from being injured, regardless of whether it is the best method forward. He sees himself as being able to take it so why bother thinking things through further than that? He can take the hit so he will take the hit and someone else can figure the rest of the plan out.

Two, Yukio will continue to grow more and more frustrated with this part of Rin and with any situation where Rin refers to himself as demonic or seems okay with the 'monstrous' parts of himself.

He does not want Rin to be a demon. He cannot accept the blue flames and what they mean for both of them. He doesn't want to see this part of Rin. He is obviously grateful Rin is healing, but it means Rin is more and more demon.

Shiemi comes up and berates Rin for bleeding all over the place and fighting her on patching him up. That leads to this:

This is about more than Shiemi picking the meister and choosing to be an exorcist. As an exercise on critical analysis, and a nod to teacher Yukio, I'd like to ask what you think it means for him as a character. What all is he referring to? What has Rin done that he can't? How does this further what Kato has already shown us about how these brothers see each other? Do you think Yukio's assessment is accurate? A bit rosy? A bit harsh?

The students all get told their exwires now and Mephisto pays for the cheapest kind of dinner as a reward. We know this is cheap because the poor students will continue to eat here because they be broke.

The chapter ends with this scene between Mephisto and Yukio.

Now I skipped over it, but in chapter 4 Mephisto called Amaimon the Demon King of Earth over specifically to continue testing Rin. He'll show up in a few chapters to beat the hell out of Rin.

Mephisto is openly lying here. He knows it and Yukio suspects it, and the way he is staring at Mephisto makes it obvious they both know Mephisto is full of shit.

Yukio is, as ever, polite. Polite and the slightest bit threatening, and thus the pawn pieces are moved and this pawn piece is showing that he is aware of the manipulation and not promising to be a compliant piece.

These handful of chapters set up a reoccurring cycle for the twins that is vital to understanding Yukio. Rin is impulsive and reckless and always putting himself and his secret at risk. He is wildly careless about his secret and it will result in his sword getting stolen, his flames being forced out, Shiemi nearly being crushed by a lot of rubble, and a large group of exorcists seeing him walk off a hard headbutt from a cat the size of an eighteen wheeler. And that's just a flyby of two chapters.

Over and over and over again Rin disobeys his directions and does what he thinks is best and it is usually on others stepping in to get him out of the situations. He has the power to probably handle things himself, but he is not to show that without forfeiting his life.

And likely Yukio's, thought Rin doesn't ever seem to think about that and might have changed his ways if he did.

Yukio is shown having to always stay on his toes and constantly be on guard against outside threats trying to manipulate Rin and Rin's own naivety or stupidity almost revealing him. Each chapter is pushing more and more responsibility on Yukio while Rin thinks of himself as getting more and more capable, though he has yet to show he is trustworthy.

He is loyal and willing to take any hit and won't stand by to watch violence, but that doesn't mean one can trust him. Yukio can't depend on him to follow any direction given and it is causing the weight of their shared secret -- that they're the sons of Satan and Rin has Satan's flames -- to fall unevenly on Yukio's shoulders. He is the one having to cover the tracks and manipulate the narrative and throw distractions to keep this secret.

It is important to bear this in mind when looking at Yukio as a whole. They are both the same age and both students at this school, but never once is Yukio treated as being the same age or treated as another student. He is always looked at to be the adult and responsible one. The one that should have let Rin know something or should have stopped something from happening. Always held as the responsible party for when things go wrong. Always the one looking a little deeper and not taking things at face value.

And this is just chapter seven.

I'll try and get us through to the forest training camp in the next installment, but we'll see how that goes because Shura is about to show up and make all of this deliciously more complicated.

[ye4gerism]

hiii😊 I kinda have a few questions about curly’s mom Ngl and maybe his dad. I think my first question for his mom though is….is she racist or just a toxic boy mom or both. I also kinda wonder like what makes her like jimmy so much. Then about his dad. Ik we don’t really know much about him but I just wanted to know like does he likes us at all or more than the mom. I also kinda want to understand curly and his mom’s dynamic. Like when it comes to the toxic boy mom is she trying to see the husband she wants in curly. Because it kinda just came to point where is like these weird boy moms are kinda grooming or being weird with their son. Or is it more of just she’s jealous like jimmy but they aren’t jealous in the same way. I guys my class question is just why did curly’s mom and dad and how did curly take it. Also sorry if this is a lot😭 happy holidays 🎄

author’s note hi! thank you for your ask. this is a long post and i don’t want to clog up the feed. so click ‘keep reading’ to keep reading lol.

content good luck captain

ok so, here’s the long answer to your first question 😭 as you’ve probably noticed i am a black writer and make it my purpose to write for readers who look like me. the mouthwashing fandom is still so new and i haven’t really seen any black reader stories for curly (or really anyone) except for @grimmsbride who i’ve seen writing for curly and daisuke (check them out!).

because i still want an audience to cater to (and i don’t know what demographic i’m actually pulling from my fics), i would say yes and yes to your question about curly’s mom in good luck, captain. i could definitely see her being prejudice to reader if they’re poc and is most definitely a toxic boy mom. whatever the case is for you, she’ll never really see you as the best fit for her son.

as for jimmy, i’ve mentioned he grew up with curly in happy birthday, jolene. she just sees him as another son just based on shared history and proximity. he’s family.

i haven’t thought much about curly’s dad and just now realized i probably should have included him and his reaction to the tuplar crash in best wishes, curly. i feel that curly really favors his father and i hinted in dream of fish that his mom doesn’t really like that. as it’s been previously mentioned, he lives in australia and had most of the custody over curly. i imagine him as a really chill dude who’s really really funny and charming and likes to explore. he’d probably get remarried to someone who shares his humor and sense of adventure. when reader and curly are dating, she’s only spoken to mr. curly a few times over facetime or skype. but he likes you and accepts you as his son loves you tons. he let curly propose to you in his home.

i would say that during the events of best wishes, curly, he didn’t come visit you in person as it was hard for him to handle the loss of his son but he did call from time to time. even when curly came back, it was still tough for him to see his son but he still maintains a relationship with him.

curly respects his mom but there is a limit to their relationship. he did go to school in australia and came to stay with her on breaks - he didn’t get to see her all the time and as he grew, he tries to maintain a healthy and balanced relationship with her. he got closer to her when he decided to go to college in the united states and she really takes advantage of their proximity. i wouldn’t say she’s grooming him. she left a marriage that she felt wasn’t perfect and would lonve to be involved in curly’s decisions when it comes to who he’s in love with. sometimes she’ll suggest the daughters of her friends from work or church bc she thinks they’ll fit in her idea of what curly’s family and future should look like.

over time, i feel that she would be jealous of reader bc she got the family that mrs. former curly wanted.

mr. curly and mrs. former curly just fell out of their rhythm. they were high school sweethearts and had the perfect white picket fence life and it just didn’t work out one day. after countless arguments, curly’s dad decided to file for divorce and mrs. former curly signed them in a heartbeat. obvs curly was confused and heart broken as his parents did a good job hiding their issues and he couldn’t fathom why they would separate. having to go back and forth between continents was stressful at first but it became a routine for him.

and no worries about the length of your ask. i appreciate your interest in good luck, captain! happy holidays to you too!

[karl-von-moor-official]

Adding to this, here's some advice that actually helped ME and prioritised ME on how to deal with my tics:

try to sleep. Seriously. A good sleep schedule (and also regular meals) will go a long way. And I know that's fucking hard, I know it's hard to maintain a sleep schedule (I'm sleep deprived rn as I am writing this) and I know it can be hard to fall asleep with tics. But it helps when it works!

Get to know your triggers. Whether it be cold air, itchy fabrics, soft mattresses, prolonged sitting/standing, certain noise, it can be many things. But if you find out things that trigger your tics, you can actually actively work against these triggers. E.g. wearing warm clothes when it gets cool, avoiding certain loud areas/getting headphones, buying softer fabrics or a different mattress, taking breaks from long sitting whenever possible. These are just examples from my own experience, but getting to know your own triggers can really help manage everyday life!

Channelling tics into different tics. Now, this one's a little tricky (or should I say ticy) to explain. (Sorry for the pun.) But basically when I can't sleep because I keep getting tics in my back, I try to move my foot instead (which is a common tic of mine) and basically I try to shift a larger tic (such as clenching my back muscles and curling my whole body) into a smaller tic (such as moving my foot/ankles). This doesn't feel as horrible as suppressing tics and isn't as difficult imo, but it helps me fall asleep sometimes.

don't tear yourself up about them. Probably every person with tics knows that stress can influence tics, but we all know that "just relax" is stupid advice! Of course it's amazing if you can minimise stress or at least try to do so in your everyday life, but it's often not possible. What's super important though is to remember not to get mad with yourself for feeling stressed. When I'm stressed and my tics get more frequent, I often slip into a sense of self-resentment. But in the end, all that does is increase my stress! It's silly and I know it and when I can catch me beating myself up about it, I try to stop it. Don't make this harder on yourself than it already is. Be kind to yourself. Which brings me to my next point:

Self-soothing. This is maybe my MOST IMPORTANT ADIVCE because it does WONDERS for me! Find something that actually soothes your nervous system! For me, I rub my fist on my chest in a circular motion. The contact and the movement is soothing to me in a way that helps me relax which actually helps with my tics very often! If you need to have a smooth stone in your pocket at all times to self-soothe, then by all means - do it! Anything, as long as you're not hurting anyone. Literally anything you can do to make yourself feel more at peace will help. Again, don't make it harder on yourself than it already is!

Don't think about it so much. I admit, this advice sounds about as helpful as "just relax", but bear with me for a second. Firstly, tics are often increased by talking about them/thinking about them/giving them attention (I know, because mine are increasing while writing this post). It doesn't have to be like that for every person with tics, but if you are, like me, one of those people whose tics get worse when you talk about them, then don't! In many cases, you don't owe people an explanation. Don't put your tics at the centre of your thoughts. I know that's not easy when they are quite literally a disruption, but the more you can tell them "fuck off, I don't even care, I don't care what you do or what other people think" the less they might bother you. Again, not as simple as it sounds and I'm aware, but sometimes giving a thing too much attention actually makes the thing worse!

All of these are just my own experiences and might not work for you, but if this does reach even a single person who finds it helpful, I'd love that!

Much of the time I find the way that we’re told to manage tics very much prioritises others rather than the person with tics.

Oftentimes it’s about how to make us more palatable to those who don’t have tics, whether that is being in good humour and allowing them to laugh at us regardless of whether we are comfortable with that, locking ourselves up at home so people don’t have to see something “icky”, putting ourselves in the constant discomfort of suppressing tics for no reason but the fact that other people are ignorant.

Justifying ableism as “well what do you expect going out and yelling swear words?”. When my tics first developed my parents threatened to never let me leave the house, go to school or see friends saying that I have to “think of others”. It is always seen as my responsibility to educate and jump through hoops to be treated with basic decency. People make it very clear that their few seconds of discomfort are priority over my entire life.

[nbmudkip]

rehyperfixating on a children’s game that came out in 2015, is one of the least popular entries in its series, and has minimal content, the vast majority of which i’ve seen before. the series has been dead for nearly 10 years, nothing has happened recently that would warrant anyone’s returning interest in it, very few of my friends give a shit about this specific game, and those few who played and liked it in the past have no reason to give a shit about it at all right now. i have been coasting through on a playthrough i’ve been doing with a friend who’d never seen the game before and who was kind enough to let me show it to them, but we just beat the game, and after we play the epilogue we will have nothing left to do, and on top of that they really have just been humoring me as they have their own very strong current hyperfixation they would much rather be thinking about. also i am depressed enough right now that literally nothing else except for waiting to play this game with them and playing this game with them and watching them enjoy it at least a little has been able to briefly quiet the constant cacophony in my head screaming how much of a worthless, lazy, constantly-failing miserable excuse for a living person i am and how much better everything would be, especially for myself, if i stopped existing lately. would anyone like to volunteer to 🔨💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ because i would really like for someone to 🔨💥⚒️Kill Me With Hammers🔨💥⚒️ right now

[wizardnuke]

does anyone know if we have to roll that rock up the hill again tomorrow

[shirogane-oushirou]

☺️: replaced my ipad screen protector (and -- shock and awe -- for the very first time ever i see no bubbles?? and the only piece of dust is on the outer edge away from the active part of the screen?? despite my messing shit up Royally on application??? wild.), so i can draw my beloved again!! and maybe properly explore a pk.mn au!!!

😔: i am Quite Sick this week. lol. lmao. and i've been kind of all-around burnt out socially for a few weeks. i'd like to finally continue playing the otome game i'd been waiting for since like 2020 but havent touched since i got it in Fucking September Holy Shit. I Want To Kiss One Of My Longest Running F/Os. Please. ...so i might actually be around a little less for a while. 👋🏻

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[warrior-of-sunlight]

.

[designernishiki]

I think I’ve said this before on here but. it really baffles and somewhat annoys me sometimes how people hear that a character is in their 40s-50s and immediately assume they should be weak or feeble or less attractive than they are. like. no. i think everyones just been brainwashed to think that attractiveness/health/worth is determined by how young someone is. why is it more understandable to view a teenager as more attractive and capable than a fit 40-50-something year old. kinda wack

[wisteryuu]

vent in tags don't mind me

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

part two

cod masterlist