#i lost track of all the accounts i blocked

[madeby-meru]

why do i keep getting all these anti-zutara tiktoks on my fyp what is this algorithm tiktok cant you see my searches ????

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising. 

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can. 

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed. 

“A crab,” 

“Yes,” 

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby. 

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke. 

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book. 

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself. 

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else. 

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend. 

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend. 

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand. 

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. 

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return. 

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance. 

“You must really like the beach.” 

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too. 

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.” 

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock. 

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.” 

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him. 

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker. 

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up. 

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses. 

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look. 

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone. 

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain. 

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. 

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat. 

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh. 

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away. 

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job. 

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes. 

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.” 

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little. 

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words. 

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically. 

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you. 

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. 

And then you make a giant fucking mistake. 

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too. 

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. 

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body. 

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures. 

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. 

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back. 

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise. 

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic. 

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. 

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it. 

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.” 

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-” 

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing. 

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. 

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building. 

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk. 

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window. 

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above. 

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?” 

“Mm, a few times.” 

“How?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.” 

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,” 

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little. 

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat. 

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.” 

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false. 

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper. 

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. 

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. 

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. 

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen. 

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs. 

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.” 

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass. 

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. 

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general. 

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily. 

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more. 

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. 

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face. 

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. 

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you. 

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine. 

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that. 

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.” 

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips. 

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. 

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim. 

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly. 

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length. 

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly. 

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed. 

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this. 

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu. 

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum. 

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you. 

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this. 

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. 

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time. 

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him. 

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here. 

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.” 

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape. 

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?” 

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.” 

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.” 

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?” 

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin. 

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?” 

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.” 

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.” 

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.” 

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[goldsbitch]

That one missed lecture

part 3 to That one Christmas flight

summary: After a missed moment, both parties are trying to contemplate what to do next.

warnings: crushing hard, cheesy af, swear words I guess, typos probably, slow burn let's just admit that

"A what?"

Surely she must have misheard Teresa. Yes. Lando has been on Y/N's mind so much these past few days that she has officially lost it.

"Sorry, not what. Who?"

"I dunno, apparently this like formula racer or something. I don't really understand it - so like we were at Al Bricco right, as usual. And there was this guy who seemed to be super into that sport and he totally freaked out. Like, the racer guy just went in and immediately left, kind of embarrassing. He like proper asked for a photo and shit. And after the racer guy left, this dude was so high off that he paid for everyone's drinks at the bar. Was nice! Shame you had the thing you had, or whatever."

Yes. Or whatever. Y/N made up some excuse for last evening, so mundane even she forgot what it was.

It was Monday afternoon after the Imola weekend. The philosophy lesson was about to start in few minutes. Y/N cursed Teresa for keeping this one tiny detail about yesterday. For fuck's sake, they'd already had two classes together today! Plenty of opportunity to mention this. Nobody famous ever came to Bologna. Y/N would expect Teresa to make it a bigger deal. But then again, usually it would not be a big deal for neither of you.

"Yeah, shame I didn't order a bottle instead of a glass," Teresa proclaimed.

"Did you see him? The racer guy?"

"Yeah. He looked like a guy, honestly nothing special about him."

"Do you know like his name or the team?"

"No, the fuck would I know that. You're focusing on the wrong thing - you missed a fun night with free drinks."

Y/N felt like her mind just got the DRS.

There were 20 drivers on the grid - the chances were low. Y/N overcame her initial shock and tried to focus on the lecture that was about to start.

For some reason Hegel's Lord-bondsman dialectic was not able to win in the battle for Y/N's attention today. Since Teresa was of little help, Y/N turned to social media. Surely, this fan must have shared his photo online. And then, once she finally discovers the photo of Ocon or Tsunoda, she will be abel to return back to her actual real problems instead of her schoolgirl crush.

They say if you need to find the "corpus delicti" these days, ask a woman to scan social media. Source more powerful than FBI.

Y/N had to excuse herself after staring at a photo of Lando's fake smile while standing in her favorite bar. Pacing around was required right now. After all, show us a problem that can't be fixed by maniacally walking around the block seven hundred times.

In her favorite bar. Lando was in her bar. In a bar, where she would have been, hadn't it been for her actually trying to track down Lando. Out of all the places on this gigantic planet. In. Her. Favorite. Bar. Must have been some random game of destiny. Y/N was getting real mad at destiny. She cursed the stupid Christmas tradition, she cursed ever getting herself involved with formula 1.

She cursed herself for missing him. In both meanings of the word.

//

Lando forgot when exactly had his burner account turned completely Bologna centered. But it was impossible to escape that city. So he decided to leave that account be for a while.

His fitness trainer must have been happy with him. Lando burned his the tension and confused mix of feelings in his session like his life depended on it. He went on to stream in his free time to check in on his friends, who seemed a bit confused on where his head had been lately. In the course of few days, life got back on track. Y/N slowly leaving his mind and he parting with it peacefully. Yet every was covered under a gray cloud of nothingness.

It was a simulator day for him. He was supposed be testing new configurations. Lando was never really good at simulators, it completely lacked the realness of it, so he had to push himself to stay professional and be a proper teammate.

"I'm just not sure about this breaking set up," he commented quietly, perhaps even more to himself than others after missing another turn. His engineer however picked up on it and started to get into super detailed explanation on why they wanted him to use this configuration and did not fail to mention how great it job it did for Oscar this morning. Lando simply nodded and did not bother to engage in eye contact. He was in no mood for this debate and kept staring at the screen. Just let it all flow by him. This engineer had been on the team for quite some time, so he did not hesitate to try and cheer him up.

"Come on, man. You can't just sit there. The car won't start if you don't go for it, you know?" he said as a joke. When Lando did not respond, he began to second guess his judgement. "Or we could just take a break, what ever suits you."

Lando took a deep breath. "No, you're right. I can't just sit here and do nothing." He turned to his engineer with a different more energetic look. "When I crash, we just start again next time, am I right?"

"That's my boy!"

//

Y/N woke up the next morning to suspiciously large amount of notifications on her Instagram account. Someone liked every single one of her pictures and few of those where she was tagged and commented on one of her selfies "nice". Curious to what this was about, she went and checked the profile out. The only thing present on it was a black and white photo with some random numbers and letters. Ok, so nothing. Just some random weirdo or a drunken joke of one the uni friends. Because for a single moment she allowed her intrusive thoughts in - and expected Lando's account to be the one liking it.

Contemplating breaking the rule and reaching out to him was the only thing occupying her yesterday's evening. But what good would that do, his account probably being run by some PR people who would dismiss it as just another fangirl trying her chances. She thought a photo might be more helpful, but it was just the same thing all over again. No, she missed her chance and it was time to start moving on.

Her usual morning brain fog breaking espresso at a coffee bar in the centre did it's job well. A lot of paragraphs she was due to write were waiting on her. Only one lecture in the afternoon. A nice calm day to spend in one of the libraries. She loved Bologna. Great food and ever-present history has cured many crushes through out the ages.

"also nice" -another notification from the same account. Y/N contemplated blocking it, but it just seemed rude, so she just silenced her phone.

When took her phone out to listen to some music on the way to her lecture, she had three more comment.

"very nice" -appeared under a photo from one of her dinner parties with the local students.

"why no smile?" -it was a selfie, so what?

"thought you were the smart one, but starting to doubt that" - written under a random photo of Bologna's stunning libraries. So what, she enjoyed aesthetics too.

The one comment questioning her brain capacity stuck in head whole the way to her lecture. What the fuck was that about. Why was anyone spending their time so uselessly. The only thing on that profile was picture with some JL043 mash of letters. She had more important things to do.

A loud ding of her comments notification interrupted the lecture in the middle of it. She gave an apologetic look to her already grumpy professor.

"check my followers"

She sighed. That's it, she'll have a look and then block this asshole out.

Her heart sank when she saw that the only account this one was following was the Japan Airlines. JL043. The Christmas flight.

Y/N has already left one lecture because of Lando this week, so she was not about to it for the second time. But she might have as well done that, seeing she would not have been able to repeat a single point from this lecture.

//

Lando was not a patient man. Especially not after he has decided on something. And he decided on contacting Y/N. With the newfound fire in his veins, another burner account was created - can't let her see he was following every single one of her friends, bit weird. Well, once you've started you might as well finish it. Lando was happy that he did not posses any serial killer tendencies.

He was also a cheeky boy, not about to make it easy for anyone. Had to be fun.

So he liked all her pictures and put few comments. When she did not respond immediately in the morning, he continued. And again, and again. In the later afternoon, Y/N's account followed his and smile on Lando's face followed after that.

A message appeared shortly after.

"Hey you..."

part 4

_________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216

[maikissed]

Kylian Mbappé oneshot

this was supposed to be a part 2 for when was the time for Kylian Mbappe to explode but I lost the idea somewhere, so I'd say it's more of a standalone with a few hints here and there…yup warnings: smut

She was bored during the Olympics. The event was grand, beautiful and festive. So many people striding the streets, Paris was colourful and very much packed. She loved the stir, the energy, the hubbub. She was busy, there was so much work. But she was not exactly present here, checking socials in the meantime, her thoughts far and messy. His latest post popped out first thing as she opened Instagram and she sighed wondering why she started to feel something close to longing as she focused on her grumpy humour as of late. Her own desires unknown.

She wondered if there’ll be a chance to see him again, she enjoyed his presence, the sight of him, his eyes, however dangerous his gaze was endearing, she missed the way his enigmatic presence made her feel. She wondered if she might have grown some form of attachment, an infatuation even. He was electrifying, that she knew for sure. She enjoyed putting herself in front of the fire, maybe there was some masochism hiding behind it, but she was curious how fast would she burn.

And she in fact spotted him, a week later, during a fundraising gala, when she was convinced he was still enjoying his vacation - she came across some new photos posted by another media account. She was looking for her boss but she stopped in her tracks to observe him, as he was engaged in a friendly conversation with some men. Fingers nervously tapping on her little clutch bag, she was considering if she should wait for a proper moment to approach him. Many people started to gather around him, making her doubt if it was a good idea. Just as she was about to turn around to focus back on her job here, his eyes landed on her suddenly, he was saying something and there appeared a gentle smile on his lips as he recognized her. Because he did. She realised she was staring at him, he nodded gently her way, she send him a delicate smile and waved. He looked sharp, handsome, clad in very elegant black tuxedo, every element dark, even the shirt under the jacket, neatly fastened all the way up. Out of nowhere some more people blocked her sight then, so she composed herself and started to walk. In the opposite direction.

She was focused on the stage in front of her, she was counting the seats, analysing the tables and making sure no vires were peeking out from the carpet when a low voice behind her made her jump slightly.

“Bonsoir” there he was standing, his hands in the pocket of his pants, the material of his clothes looked expensive “You look beautiful”

She blinked at his compliment, fixing her posture, flashing him a warm smile.

“Thank you, you look handsome” a simple pleasantry, she felt nervous “Did u have a nice vacation?”

“It was alright” he shrugged not taking his eyes off of her. He was standing tall, but he seemed somehow weary “How was your vacation?”

“Busy” she nodded.

“I can see” he looked around “Where do you sit?”

“I’m staying here. Currently I’m making sure everything goes well with the plan. It’s about to start”

“Right. See you later, then, I hope”

She smiled back at him as he strode off to the centre of the room. That stupid pleased smile not seeming to leave her face.

The shoes were killing her, the dress suffocating her, the crowd turned more pressed and louder than from before the start of the event. She wondered where all these people came from so suddenly. The bathroom was a nice escape for some time, but she could not stay there forever. After freshening up a little she headed back, before her boss would chastise her for leaving her post. She had about a half an hour more to finish her duties. Just as she turned around the corner from the hall, she collided with something hard and swayed on her legs before she could process what has just happen. A huff leaving her mouth as she grabbed somebody’s arms, protecting herself from falling. There was an arm around her middle, keeping her steady.

“Now you’re falling into my arms, I see” she looked into Kylian’s eyes, a little breathless.

A small chuckle leaving her mouth as she still clung onto him, her eyes big and round, her heart beating faster, caused by the little accident.

“Technically I bumped onto you, I’m sorry”

“Don’t worry about it” he murmured and a second later she realised how close they were. She straightened up, her palms falling down his arms and she stepped away.

His hand placed on her back disappeared and she missed it already.

“Shouldn’t you be back there, with all these people so desperate for your attention?” she joked.

“They started to bore me, it’s tiring to keep up with their conversations. I was looking for a way out, and for you, to be honest”

Excitement rushed over her once again.

“Yes, it’s a little bit crowded now” she acknowledged.

“Should we sneak out?” he looked around them as if to check if someone might be lurking in the corner.

The question surprised her. She bit her lip considering what would happen if she left now, while her boss might in fact be looking for her. She had her phone, she would call her if she was needed. Maybe she’ll forget.

She didn’t suspect that they would end up in her apartment later that night. As they went out in the chilly night for a walk, she brought up the idea; she in fact lived nearby. It was an expensive area, so her apartment was a small studio in an old tenement.

“You well organised this place” his voice low, sounded much deeper in such noiseless surroundings “I like it” he took off his jacket to sit more comfortably on a little sofa in the middle of the living room.

There was ringing in her ears. She watched him a while, he seemed relaxed, no tension, no disguise. Calmness.

 “I had to separate a bit of space to arrange the bedroom. It’s minuscule, but it’s serving it’s purpose”

Looking for glasses she peeked his way to notice him unbuttoning the top of the black shirt he was wearing. The room was hot, she reminded herself that she has to open a window, but then the scent of his perfume hit her senses and she changed her mind quickly.

“Wine?” she asked innocently and he brought his eyes back to her.

“Sure”

She sat down on the other end of the sofa, very aware of his eyes following her movements. She wondered what kind of message was sent the moment she invited him to spend some time at her place. It was a friendly time. Or she thought so.

Her dress tightened as she sat down. She took a sip of her wine, slowly realising what kind of persona she was hosting at this hour at night. In her little apartment.

“It’s a nice place, how long do you live here?”

“Two years”

“Aren’t you tired of Paris already? Some say it gets suffocating after a while”

“It’s a wondrous city. Though it can get a bit lonely after some time” she shared, observing his curious gaze.

“Do you have someone?” his question was unexpected but voiced out in simple curiosity.

She smiled softly at him before brining her eyes down to her glass.

“No” she dragged “I don’t do dates” her comment made him laugh softly.

She frowned before her face broke into another smile.

“And you, Monsieur Mbappé? I can ask you the same”

“I don’t do dates” he smirked, a glint in his eyes.

She could smell another wave of his scent when he moved. She adored it, the heavy tones in his perfume were alluring.

“Oh, don’t you?” she jested “Smells like another lie”

“I’m too busy” he shrugged and it was her time to laugh.

“What about the sex?” she voiced it out loud. Yes. She was too nosy for her own good. And honestly, she loved to poke him places.

“I can ask you the same” he got back at her. She blinked, biting her lip timidly.

“I manage” she uttered bringing the glass back up to her lips.

“Oh, wow, sound exciting”

She sent him a chiding look, eyeing the amusement on his face as he examined her. She feared her lie was too much obvious. She was way too lonely, and her bed cold. And mostly because she was as well way too busy for any endeavours.

“As weird as this might sound, the sex can turn boring and predictable at some point. Or I don’t find it so compelling anymore. Or maybe I fail at choosing the partner” he stated confidently, she realised he opened up about a very intimate subject. But it stunned her.

“You’re twenty-six years old. Shouldn’t you enjoy it?” she questioned in surprise.

“It’s pleasant while it lasts, it’s a short moment, this quick shot of excitement but then it ends quickly and things turn uncomfortable”

She hummed in acknowledgement and he observed her lips flex into a smirk. She considered.

“Maybe you’re rushing it” she pointed.

“How so?”

“I’d say…” she started carefully, wondering how to chose her next words “Sex is the most intimate connection of the bodies, most importantly of the minds. It tastes the sweetest when you don’t reach for the grand part at once. You want to draw it out, build the tension, the want, by engaging all your senses with touch, caress, focus on the speeding heartbeats, deepening breathing, skin heating. It’s pleasant when the foreplay is longer than the act itself. But it’s not just about the foreplay being present, it’s about how you savour it, how you connect with the other person, how you see them experiencing it, how you build it all up. You delay the finale to the point of breakage, your limbs shaking, your head spinning. So when you reach it, the orgasm can be shattering. And the partner of your choosing have to awaken these kind of excitement for you, because if you consider it only a deed in order to reach your relief, it could turn predictable and uncomfortable, I think.”

Her eyes focused on the wall, her glass empty now. She risked to look his way and he seemed intrigued. His eyes dark, the room turned quiet.

“I don’t mean that you’re a bad lover” she stammered a little, bit embarrassed “It’s not like I know of it, it’s just…”

“Relax, I didn’t get it that way” he interrupted ���It was captivating, you’re very passionate”

His presence here, in her little private setting and this conversation made her feel uneasy. She felt an urge to move closer to where he was seated. To whisper that she wants it all with him. Her breath stuck in her lungs when she realised, when he called her passionate. He was suffocating at this point, his big, manly figure on her little couch, his perfume. She knew how to make him feel it. And something in his face told her that he wanted her to.

She stood up reaching for the empty glasses with intention to fill it again. But he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She knew this touch, yet this time it was gentler. His fingers glided down her skin to hold her own. He leaned back on the couch again, sitting like before, his posture relaxed, his eyes deep. She was burning.

“When was the last time you felt something like this?” he asked, she wanted to hear his deep voice closer to her ear.

She focused on the gentle touch, his fingers now playing softly with hers as he stared into her soul. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak out now, her voice locked out somewhere deep in her chest. She breathed through her lips slightly ajar.

“Right now” her voice much steadier than she thought.

His chest rose at her answer. He looked at their hands connected still.

“Show me, please”

Oh, God. She stood above him awkwardly for a moment after he let her hand fall back down. A gentle caress over her knuckles before he let go. Her knees weak as she took few steps back, her shaky fingers reaching the zipper of her dress. That was the moment, she was about to strip in front of him. She wanted to, badly. And the scene was powerful: him seated down, clad in finest clothes, his legs spread, his dangerous eyes drinking her in as she opened the back of her dress.

Her movements slow and delicate, her fingers keeping the straps of her dress for a moment before it fully slid down her body. His eyes followed it’s track, he didn’t move, she wasn’t able to read much from his face before his gaze met her own back again. In the first moment there was pure fascination and simple, almost childish like adoration in the glint in his eyes, but when he blinked it was all gone, and she could see his throat moving, ferocity in the darkness of his irises. He had all the power to break her, yet her purpose was to tame him.

She was bare, unveiled in front of him, only her most intimate place covered by a soft material of the thongs she was wearing.

“You are heavenly beautiful. How come you don’t already have all men howling at your feet?” his words surprised her, there was a bit of playfulness in his features, but honesty and admiration in his deep voice.

She chose to seduce him to the point of having him at her feet.

“Who are all these men compared to you?” she sang as she took little steps to where he was seated.

A cheeky smile broke on his face and she adored it.

“Are trying to play with my ego?” she was standing close, almost between his knees and he kept looking straight into her eyes.

“You don’t need me to, Kylian” she whispered “Everybody knows it for a fact” after these words she turned and carefully sat down to place herself between his legs, her back facing him.

She wanted to lead him, but as soon as his warm palms rested on her waist any words died in her throat and she sighed closing her eyes, delighted by the way the energy flew between them both. The touch was sweet. He leaned into her, his breath close to her ear and cheek. The material of his clothing soft, rousing with the contact of her bare skin. His hands glided lower, caressing her hips and then her thighs. She looked down and hummed at the sight of how big they were, she felt so small.

“You have pretty hands” she breathed, her eyes closing on it’s own as his palms slid up and then back down on the skin there, very slowly. She savoured the closeness of his body, his touch.

“Oh, you like them?” his breath hot on her skin, his words vibrating on the shell of her ear, she shivered “Where do you want me to put them?” said gentler, into her skin.

She leaned into him, relaxing limbs pressed into his torso.

“Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

A whimper almost broke out of her, but she fought it, her eyes wide open and he moved his hands higher up her hips, resting them on her stomach.

“Yes” she answered, making sure to sound composed and confident, but her voice broke a little when his fingers moved up and gently stroked her nipples. She writhed against him. He was gentle, she was close to lose her mind. He knew what to do. He was doing it perfectly.

One of his hands moved up, roaming her throat and she placed her head back on his shoulder. She was floating in his embrace, his perfume intense, he indeed was her desires impersonated. It was turning her mad. She wanted all of him, badly.

“But we want to savour it, darling, don’t we?”

Long and tender fingers reached her jaw, moving higher, butterfly touches on her lips, she let him caress them before she timidly opened her mouth. He put his thumb in her mouth and her chest fell. Her breathing deepening, she sucked on his finger but he didn’t linger long, instead moved his hand back down, placing moistened digit on her nipple. Did the same thing with the other hand, his wet fingers playing so tauntingly softly with delicate buds. Her breathing sped up, he kept stimulating her, she was lightheaded. Her thighs closed on it’s own, her breathing was the most prominent sound in the room. Her spine bending, a mewl left her mouth as she could feel herself clenching around nothing.

“Ah, are you in need, love? Tell me” amusement in his voice, he enjoyed her struggling.

“Please” she whined weakly, opening her thighs to bring his attention there “Touch me”

His chest rumbled with a short laugh. Oh, he was a menace.

“You’re a sweet thing”

Using his hand he reached for her leg and hiked it up, wrapping it around his thigh. She anticipated. The first light touch of his fingers there made her wriggle into him. She could feel him, hard, pressed against her bum.

“So wet” in a low voice, her hand grasping the material of his pants, she was so patient, dying to keep up with it “You’re giving me everything I wanted and more”

She moaned, the sound much surer now, freed, with no intention to hide her arousal out of abashment. He was testing her, learning how to play her body, she was louder when he was gentler with her, delicate rubs against the material of her knickers. Her hand reached behind to hold on his neck. Her backside moving against him, he hummed, content with the friction there. His thumb hooked over the band of her thongs. She hoped.

“Kylian…” a soft whisper “Let me…”

“Should I?” few delicate pecks of his moist lips under her ear “Or should I… delay it?”

She cried out desperately in answer.

“How much can you take? The night’s still young, I should know before I make you take me in every possible way that comes to my mind till the very end of it” his fingers finally disappearing under the material, she gasped at the contact.

“Everything” she breathed “I’ll take everything”

“Now, you should be careful with such words” he pushed one finger inside her, swiftly, then another, she slumped onto him knowing that she’ll be finished in no time, he worked her up so well.

She no more had any kind of control over her own body. Just few quick pushes and she came on his fingers. Breathless, yet still wanton. Her legs were weak but she was brave, after few calm breaths she turned to face him. And she realised that she opened the darkest and the most dangerous doors he kept hidden and locked. She could see it in his eyes. Absolute elation, almost obsession. And she wanted to see it unleash. Wanted for him to let it all out free. She had a wild idea in her mind. 

She straddled him carefully, her hands wandering over his body, feeling his muscles, resting on his neck as she placed her lips near his ear.

“I mean it, you can take as much as you want, I’m yours for the night” she whispered, next bringing her face closer to his, thinking about kissing him right now “How do you want me, Kylian?” her voice even sweeter now as she looked into his eyes “Do you want me on my knees? Do you want me to put it in my mouth? I can go for hours”

There was a lazy smirk pulling at his cheeks. He seemed to not expect such words from her. But she wanted to keep going. She moved her hips forward to finally meet his, he grunted at the contact, she smiled in victory. He was so very ready. But they were playing their game now. He was good, she aimed to be even better.

“Or I can fuck you like this” and again, back and forth, dry humping him but slowly, dosing the sensations “Oh…I would love that. You don’t have to do anything. I can do everything for you, you deserve it” she purred, her lips so close to his, almost touching.

He chuckled and his eyes closed. She weakened him, he turned spellbound.

“Fucking hell” he murmured and she moved once more against him.

She wondered who will win this game at the very end, something was telling her it will most definitely be him, even if she had her sweet little moments right now.

He was trying to catch her lips but she shun away from him, testing him, tempting him, with a fierce smirk plastered on her face. A sharp spark in his eyes and she knew he had enough. He reached with his fingers and clasped them on her jaw, bringing her closer, a little roughness to it. But the kiss was gentle, delicate, so sweet she sighed into it. He grasped her hips and pressed her hard onto him, the kiss deepening, she moaned when their tongues met. He hummed and after few moments let go of her, sitting back comfortably, his hands spread on the back of the sofa, he was smiling at the sight of her flushed state.

“Go on then, baby. On your knees”

Her heart jumped in her chest at the sound of his deep voice. Excitement rushed all over her and she bit her lip when pictures of the pleasure she wanted to bring out of him run through her imagination. Her ears already full of the sound of him moaning her name. She slid to the floor, her shaky fingers reaching for the top of his pants, he observed her. When her fingers caught the zipper, one of his hands already rested on her nape and she knew he would not go easy on her. Her mouth watered at the thought of him using her, fucking her mouth, forcing her to choke on it to the point of tears running down her cheeks. She knew he would win, from the very start.

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

two; here we go again // the red strings bring you back to me

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, divorced!reader, fluff, healing from past marriage

wc. 6.8k

featured track. haze by LUCY

you have me. even when you think you don't. i was only ever yours to begin with.

kageyama tobio accepted the offer to play with ali roma that following season. 

you had seemed happier in the following weeks with no recollection of the night of your birthday, so he tells himself that he is happy for you that you managed to mend whatever it was in your marriage. not that it ever stops him from thinking that he wouldn’t have allowed it to happen in the first place if he was your husband. if, if, if. 

but he isn’t, so he throws himself into volleyball, the love of his life. between the busy season leading up to the olympics and moving to italy, he didn’t have much time to miss you anyway. 

you didn’t normally text or call each other outside of volleyball, the only thing that threads a very thin connection between you, so he sort of lost contact with you naturally, the delicate string unraveling through disuse. 

it’s been many months since he settled in italy, so he gathers it’s time to move on with his life—move on from you. he thinks he is actually doing alright in that department, chasing after whispers of your name on written articles, posts, updates significantly less than he used to when he first moved there.

once again, kageyama forgets to account for the variable that is you. 

because he finds you knocking on his apartment door as he returns from his grocery run, and his arms slacken, bags falling to the wooden floor. a tomato tumbles out onto the floorboard. he wonders if he is hallucinating—he thought he had been doing so well in the moving-on-from-you department too. 

“kageyama!” he finds himself flustered at the lack of formalities coming from you. 

“kuroo-san? w–what are you doing here?” how did you even find where he lives? 

“didn’t you send me that text to drop by if i visit italy? you didn’t tell me you changed your mind.” you help him with the bags as he fumbles with his keys. why won’t the key fob just orient itself properly? 

wait, the text? he didn’t text you, did he? finally, the lock on his front door registers the presence of the fob and unlocks. he realizes belatedly, as you set down his groceries on the kitchen floor, that he must have accidentally sent you the text that was meant for hinata. 

no wonder hinata never said anything about it. 

kageyama wisely chooses not to mention his mistake to you. he listens to you point out a few things you’ve noticed in your trip so far—the gorgeous architecture, the gelato storefronts that seem to line every other block, the mouthwatering food you tried so far—patiently waiting for you to explain this bizarre situation to him. 

it is extremely out-of-character for you to show up unannounced, and not to mention, formalities and boundaries be damned. and you are rambling, seemingly nervous, your tell of tucking your hair behind your ear giving you away. 

so he nods along with you, commenting here and there, pretending like all of this is normal (when none of it is) as you make yourself at home at his kitchen island, telling him stories while watching him put his groceries away.

kageyama could almost pretend that this is your domestic life. one in another world where the gods favored him.

he recognizes the glint of wildness in your eyes, the look when you take a leap of faith, uncalculated faith, trusting, hoping that you will land on the other side safely. 

“say, if, if aeroitalia smi roma gave me an offer to join them here in italy next season. what would you do if you were me?”

aeroitalia smi roma. here in italy. a barrage of questions appear, one that especially looms above them all. his eyes wander to your hands, noting the absence of the gold band on your ring finger. he tamps down on the blind hope rising to the surface of his heart. 

“i would take it. they’re one of the best in italy.” but what about kuroo-san?

you nod at his statement, mostly to yourself. he registers the faraway look in your eyes as you turn to look out the window at the busy streets below. 

he could almost taste the hope on his tongue, could almost imagine a life shared with you, doing groceries together, having you stare out his kitchen window as you are now on a lazy saturday afternoon, a cup of steaming hot latte in your hands. almost.

“could i ask you for a favor?” 

“anything.” he breathes. 

another lifetime where you would barrage him to decorate his relatively empty apartment, its four plaster walls empty and unused, to make his place feel like a home. 

“i am going to need a tour guide when i come back.” you look pointedly at him. 

he tries not to let his smile shine through too much. “when you come back?”

this lifetime where he would take anything you are willing to offer, make his peace with it. it has been so long he’s almost forgotten it, how easy it was to be around you, natural as breathing, familiar as a volleyball in between his palms. 

as though he’s a desolate tree that survived all winter, the chill that festered in his bones being chased away by your warm gentle rays of sunlight from the unexpectedly early spring.

“you know, if aeroitalia did give me an offer.”

“i have barely been here for a year.” he laughs, coming to a stop next to you, staring out at the streets.

“still barely a year longer than me. plus, you can speak some italian, right?” you elbow him. 

“i guess i will see you then, huh?” he tilts his head at you, dimples showing. you smile back at him—barely, a ghost of what it used to be. 

he makes a vow to the gods that he would do anything to bring it back. anything.

“i’ll be two doors away if you need me.” you think kageyama was being polite as he helped you lug your suitcases up twelve flights of stairs with the elevator undergoing maintenance. 

you bang your head on the wall in embarrassment. what exactly were you thinking when you showed up at kageyama’s apartment last month, and then pestered him with your stupid questions about moving to italy?

oh my god. he was probably just being polite and didn’t know how to tell you off. your relationship with kageyama had been strictly work-related, but you went off the rails, too worried about the move to italy while finalizing your divorce to be anxious over what he thought of you. 

you ignore the uneasiness in your chest as you fish your phone out, feeling a buzz from it. 

it’s a text from kageyama. you alright over there? shit. that was the wall between your apartments, wasn’t it? you text back a yep! before letting your shame out in a silent scream. 

you make quick work of putting your essentials away, clothes, toiletries, packed food ingredients (as kageyama suggested), and some miscellaneous things that you managed to fit in two suitcases. the apartment came furnished, and two suitcases wasn’t much to begin with, having left most of the items from your previous marriage behind. 

the sun is setting by the time you finish. the apartment looking just a little less vacant with your jacket strewn over the back of your couch, sauces and seasonings dotting the space next to the stovetop for now. 

it’s not home, but it will do, for the time being. until you could fill in the missing fixtures and appliances, like a coat hanger for the front door, some bathroom necessities, kitchen knives. the list grows by the second as you survey your new space from where you are curled up by the kitchen window.

you lean your head against the wooden panels, admiring the yolk-colored ball of fire casting its final rays of light over the bustling city before darkness falls, much like flipping the last page of the chapter. 

you stay there until the last strand of sunlight disappears over the horizon, rome now enveloped in specks of yellow. the sun will rise again tomorrow, it’s time to start a fresh page. 

still, it feels odd knowing you are the only one who will walk through the front door every evening, that you have this space all to yourself. 

your habitual tadaima slipping from your lips to no one in particular as you cross the threshold of your apartment, not that kuroo was ever present physically or mentally to welcome you home with a responding okaeri. on days when he came home after you (which was most), he often beelined for the shower, briefcase left at the front door, which he would come back to later, flipping through project documents past working hours. 

you could probably count on ten fingers the handful of times that he even noticed your presence in the living room and mumbled a tadaima before tugging off his tie in the last year of your marriage. 

it is easy to forget how much your life has changed during the day, occupied with the pace of practice and the frenzy of filling your apartment. so easy to gloss over the kuroo-shaped hole in your heart when the sound of the cities floods out the voices in your head. 

when the night falls, and the city quiets, that’s when it gets loud. the sound of nothing, the crackling static gets so deafening in your ears, your mind, overwhelming your senses. 

the realization that you really left everyone who’s ever loved you behind in japan to find something new, different in a foreign country, its tongue that you are struggling to decipher, the loneliness of being abroad. 

the hollowness in your chest that amplifies the nothingness in your ears. 

you have taken a liking to the city nightscape, eyes staring out at nothing in particular as you sit by the window by your lonesome, trying your very best to adapt and learn to be comfortable alone in your spacious apartment. to allow your thoughts and fears and hopes to speak to you while the static buzzes in the background, acknowledging them and letting them flow over and through you. 

i hear you. 

it gets easier to breathe the more you sit by the window overlooking the city. the sense of loss that once pressed on you at every waking moment dulls to a quiet throb. 

you look out the window, where the first rays of sunlight peek over the city, dancing through the window and illuminating your kitchen in its softness, loosening a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

it’s the first morning you actually see the sunrise, legs cramping, as the sun climbs over the horizon, wishing you a good morning, since you moved in weeks ago. 

it feels like deja vu as kageyama tobio finds you outside his apartment door, arm poised to knock on it, except you don’t. still as a statue, you stand frozen in doubt, the only movement from your fingers flexing and curling catching his eye. 

even the shadows themselves seem to curl tighter around you as he approaches you carefully, as if you were a wild animal emerging from hibernation that would vanish back into the darkness at the slightest disturbance. 

the gods must be over the moon with the new creative ways they are coming up with to toy with his heartstrings. the roles so starkly reversed between you and him, his once brilliant sun reduced to mere echoes of its former glory, leaving him to play what used to be your role and bring you out of your shell.

kageyama wonders if it would be appropriate if he poked fun at you the way you used to at him,  if he would be overstepping his lines. then again, the lines had been blurred and redrawn over the past month, he thinks, remembering the first time you reached out to him after dropping by without notice, not really volleyball related.

hey! what should i bring to italy? you had texted him, the bubble showing that you’re still typing. like stuff you can’t get there.

he had thought long and hard about it before replying—curry cubes. perhaps that one was too specific, as he follows up with another text. sorry. anything you like to eat in japan, it’s hard to get japanese ingredients here. you had reacted to his message with a heart and left it at that.

and then more random messages. 

do i need to bring a rice cooker? probably not…? i bought mine here. [image attachment] maybe i should bring one… 

kageyama couldn’t help but laugh at that one. did you really have such specific preferences?

hey, do you think rome has nice soy sauce? just bring it.

how cold does it get there? tokyo is much colder, just bring your lighter coats.

he could just try. what’s the worst that could happen, right?

“hey.” he feels bad as you flinch at his sudden appearance, having half a mind to scurry back to the safety of your apartment, but it was too late—you have been spotted. “the door isn’t going to bite.”

“oh, hey, i wasn’t sure if you were home.” you rub the back of your head sheepishly. 

“our practice ended late, what’s up?” he spies the stack of curry cube packages under your other arm, the thought of you remembering the stupid text he sent without thinking and bringing him all those boxes from japan making him flush. 

he puts a mental hand over his heart to calm it from jumping out of his ribcage into your hands.

gods above, the effect that you have on him with every little gesture, all of them flying blissfully over your head. that’s one thing he can thank the gods for, at least.

you hand him the stack, tucking a stray curl of hair behind your ear. “a token of appreciation for all your troubles, kageyama.”

and because he was feeling a little bold, he jokes, “are you the same y/n who turned up at my door a month ago?” 

“oh, you’re one to speak,” you roll your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching in a small smile. “there are two wolves in me, okay? one is batshit nuts, you know her, the one you see on court. the other one is me, and you drew the short stick today.”

kageyama knows he’s nowhere close to getting over you with the way the smallest hint of a smile from you sends his heart skittering, the way he is offering up everything he has to the role he has been asked to play so that you might shine freely once again, not for him but for you.

despite the stamped out selfish hope that maybe, maybe you might fall for him this time, he earnestly wants to weather the passing storm by your side, so you might walk out to clear blue skies, cloudless and unburdened. so you might smile freely once more, even if it's not meant for him. 

“wanna come in? i’m making pasta for dinner.” he holds up the bag of groceries he picked up from the corner shop on the way home. 

you hesitate, not unwillingly, more so from not wanting to intrude on his personal space. “you don’t have to—”

“you’ve already shown up unannounced once, what’s another?” 

you flush with embarrassment at the thought of that time. not your brightest moment. “gods, will you ever let me live that down? i really don’t want to be a bother.”

“c’mon, you’re not. promise.” he gestures for you to enter his apartment. 

you lean against his counter awkwardly as you watch him lay out the ingredients, prepping the table surface to actually make pasta from scratch. he notes the surprise on your face.

“i actually can’t cook very well, but making pasta is surprisingly therapeutic.” kageyama explains while he measures out the flour and salt, making a well in the center of the mixture to crack the eggs in. he whisks the eggs before slowly stirring in the flour mixture methodically. 

“wanna try?” he offers after seeing the entranced look in your eyes. you nod, scrubbing your hands with soap before taking over the kneading of the pasta dough from kageyama.

he watches you quietly as you poke the tip of your tongue out the side, attention completely focused on folding and pressing the dough and repeating the motion, taking note of the downward turn of the corners of your eyes, the haunted look in your eyes when you forget to hide it. 

your hand waving in his face breaks him out of his thoughts. “kageyama?”

“what happened to your formalities?” he blurts. where is the line between us?

you give him a questioning look. 

he corrects himself, “i’m kageyama-san to you, and you’re kuroo-san to me, remember?”

“oh, that. i’m not kuroo-san anymore. we finalized our divorce before i moved here. if you prefer that, i can go back to calling you kageyama-san.” you brush your divorce off as if it is ancient history, as if it doesn’t leave an emptiness in your chest where you used to feel love for him. 

“i’m sorry to hear that.” he shouldn’t have asked. for various reasons not limited to the way the hope in him perks its head up at the confirmation that kuroo is out of your life for good. 

“it’s fine, it’s been coming, i just chose to look the other way.” you squint at the dough, suddenly kneading it with more force, your previous child-like delight now gone at the mention of your failed marriage. 

kageyama really shouldn’t have asked. he hates to be the one who took away your fun and soured your mood with that question. that you still look devastatingly beautiful despite the sorrow etched in your soul. 

“you can call me tobio. since we are friends outside of work now.” he hopes that his hair is covering the warm tips of his ears.

“sure,” you shrug, “you know you’re the only one who called me that or oumae-san anyway, right? old man.”

“oh wow, going right to insulting me. is this your other wolf appearing?” he shoots back drily as he nudges you out of the way. “go put something on the tv, we need to rest the dough for twenty minutes.”

your clear and bright laughter fills his apartment as you back out of the kitchen, hands up in surrender, a sparkle in your eyes and that smile appearing on your lips, chasing away the darkness. 

he thinks this may not be as hard as he thought after all, playful banters with you. anything to chase away your ghosts. 

and suddenly the one-bedroom apartment feels like home to kageyama tobio. 

months slip by, summer’s warmth finally giving way to crunchy leaves beneath your feet and cool breezes caressing your skin softly with a lover’s touch. 

kageyama tobio and you are nothing if not creatures of routine, taking turns at your apartments during the weekdays to make dinner since it’s so much easier to make dinner for two than one and significantly time-saving to not have to go through the twenty steps of cooking by yourself every day.

though you find yourself at his apartment more than yours, his skillful hands diligently prepping ingredients, slicing them with precision, following the recipe methodically with you as his assistant (who lounges at kitchen island a little too much, head on hand, watching him work, because gods, his hands, larger than your own, fingers unbelievably slender and elegant despite all the training he puts them through. you are envious of them, and just a tad obsessed.) 

tobio would catch you staring sometimes, and you would look away, pretend to be unfazed, ignoring the blood racing through your veins. gods really do have a favorite. 

you grew to enjoy his company, so unlike the quiet solitude of home that you were used to. his dry humor and his quiet steady presence. his cooking, really. you wonder what his fans would make of that, since he had once admitted to being a bad cook in an interview that lives on somewhere on the internet. 

perhaps that precision of his is the reason the food he makes tastes so sinfully delicious on your tongue. 

you had felt restless at first, unused to having so much time on your hands after being used to spending most of your own free time for more practice, more work, since kuroo was rarely home before the late hours of the night. 

it never quite felt like home without him in that ninety-five square meter apartment—larger than most middle class homes yet so devoid of life and love that makes somewhere home. the luxury that you were able to afford given the size of your paychecks was never quite put to good use in those two years of your marriage.

“i’m feeling like some gelato today, want some?”

kageyama joins you out on the balcony, wiping his wet hands on the black cat apron you bought for him on a whim—a gift. it reminded you of his image in most people’s minds, a hissy and fussy cat who hates people, and to be honest (and maybe a little biased), you do enjoy that side of him. 

it’s endearing, especially since you’re one of the few special humans that the picky cat likes. he really does act like a cat. 

he had moved to italy a year before you, and being more familiar with the local culture, quickly became your go-to person to help you navigate the everyday life responsibilities from setting up your internet to the oddly laxed city disposal system. or the unlucky time your air conditioning stopped working in the peak of summer, barely weeks into your new apartment, your broken italian barely any help as you attempt to call a technician. 

you remember having to resort to knocking on his door with a sheepish smile, rambling about the bind you were in and asking him if he could talk to the technician on your behalf. he had nodded, taking the phone from you and speaking into it, italian rough but so much more fluent than yours. his usually deep solemn voice just half a pitch higher and more expressive.

his unresponsiveness had you twiddling your thumbs in nervousness as he padded into your apartment, still on the phone and with you following closely, and proceeded to slam a fist into the side of the air conditioning unit before turning it back on. 

the unit sputtered to life and you sighed in relief. “oh thank the gods.”

“the technician said he’ll stop by tomorrow in the evening because he has other calls to attend to from the unusually hot weather. i’ll be back from practice by then.” 

“thank you, tobio.” you had smiled at him gratefully. you hated having to rely on other people for help with things that you should be able to do on your own, so accustomed to being hyperindependent, but tobio makes it easy to come to him for help. mostly due to the fact that he never makes you feel bad about asking for help, even though you do still feel bad about bothering him with all the stupid everyday life problems. 

you had somehow wormed your way into his life and he had graciously allowed you to stay beyond all the times that you needed his help, steadily and unknowingly becoming your dearest friend. 

you hum in response, giving gelato another thought since the air is turning chilly as the sun dips lower over the horizon, dusk creeping closer by the minute. “sure, why not?”

now, walking through the streets of rome at dusk in the cool autumnal weather for gelato was not what you expected when you agreed to it. you had expected smooth cold gelato melting on your tongue in the comfort and warmth of tobio’s apartment. not this.

goosebumps scattered across your skin under your sweater, teeth chattering slightly thanks to the cold dessert dropping your body heat further. your stubborn ass had rejected tobio’s offer of a jacket at the door, thinking your sweater would be warm enough for the autumn breezes. 

apparently not if you’re eating gelato.

you didn’t have the heart to tell him no after finding out that the little trip would entail trekking fifteen minutes into the city and then back, with gelato, on a cool autumn night. 

tobio has a way of making you go along with his whims without even trying. 

you let out another shiver, cold fingers gripping the paper cup. he stifles his low chuckle by stuffing another spoonful of gelato in his mouth. 

“what?” you narrow your eyes at the man, challenging him to say it. i told you so.

he shrugs, licking his spoon clean. 

you look away from him, shoving the last mouthful of gelato between your cold cheeks and dumping the paper cup and spoon into a trashcan as you pass by.

a heavy warmth settles over your shoulders as you stick your hands into your pockets, surprise lining your eyes for a few seconds before realization sets in that tobio is draping his jacket over your shoulders. 

tobio, who’s always known what you needed when you needed it. tobio, who’s always done it without guilt tripping you, no ‘i told you so’s or ‘you should have listened to me’s. tobio, who welcomed you into his life and stayed without asking for anything in return, his warm and steady presence providing you comfort just from knowing that he is right next to you. 

the light brushes against your elbows when you work in the kitchen, arriving just as you space out a little too much while waiting for the onions to cook or staring out the window, the task before you forgotten. the gentle touches that grounds you back to reality, a quiet reminder that you are not alone. 

you wonder if he knows how he makes you feel at ease, at home, and sometimes, when you catch a soft knowing smile on his lips at your boisterous laughter, you wonder if he is doing it with intention.

what kind of heroic deeds did you do in your past life to earn the favor of the gods?

you spin around to face him, only to have him take a step back as a biker zooms by, hands gripping your shoulders, pushing you away from the hazard, his back towards the open street. he glances back at the rider who is long gone, frowning at their carelessness. 

his cheeks are pink from the cold, navy eyes sweeping over you to check that you’re fine. 

“are you cold?” you ask him, hands already moving to return the jacket to its owner.

“no, keep it.” 

you nod your thanks and pull your arms through the sleeves. your silhouette drowns in his already oversized jacket. the remnants of his warmth and the thickness of his jacket keep you warm the entire way home, just as it always does. 

tobio shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of your apartments, towards home. tobio, who had teased you and laughed with you, sat with you in silence and talked to you over dinner, walked with you on that rocky path back towards the light. 

somewhere deep inside you, the smallest bud springs to life on a barren branch, hope, quiet and unsure, stirs in its dormancy.

the lines between you and kageyama tobio keep rewriting themselves. 

lines that were blurred and redrawn, over and over until the first lines were unrecognizable. it feels like drawing lines on sand, only to have waves wiping the slate clean, leaving you to hastily put down some semblance of a line. 

as if the gods are laughing in your face, telling you that you are wrong and to try again. 

so you threw the stick away. 

it was not a conscious decision, not at first. you had just accidentally let it slip, the thing that kept you up at night, the whispers that only quieted at the sight of the midnight skies. the endless expanse of it and the deep blue hues stretching as far as the eye could see, occasionally broken up by wafts of clouds floating through.

lighter than the dark skies of your hometown in rural japan where there was less light pollution from the sparse street lights dotting the farmlands. but it was the same skies, same stars light years away from earth that your obaasan taught you to navigate with if you ever got lost in the forest behind your home. 

the home you left behind to chase after your dreams in the city, and with it, your grandmother. the home you left again once more to outrun your bad decisions. 

tobio, to his credit, had listened intently to you on his balcony that night, both of you sitting cross-legged with your backs against the door, elbows grazing lightly, and assured you that your fears were in fact, not stupid. 

maybe it’s his comforting presence, or the way he ponders over the secrets you handed to him without judgment, but you seem to spill at the seams when he is around, unafraid to bare your soul to your—kindred spirit. maybe it’s the words that fall from his lips meant only for you, roughly thrown together, not without care, merely earnest and unembellished, sincerity clear in his focused gaze. 

though certainly, bringing up one of your deepest fears in the middle of a farmer’s market was the last thing on your mind, and tobio’s, you are sure. yet here you are, words pouring out from your heart at the sight of flowers, one of the last hurdles that still sticks tall. 

“do you think one day i won’t be broken anymore?” you gently thumb the soft petal of an amaryllis, feeling the ever so slight give under the pad of your thumb grounding you from the pain that your memories brought to the surface. 

tobio frowns at your words—he hates them. “you’re not broken.” if you were not in public, with people weaving around the different stalls, he might have tried to shake some sense into you, literally. 

oh, if only he knew. your heart twists, hand dropping to your side, flower forgotten. “he was in love with the idea of me. with an olympic setter as his wife, the trophy to his jva corner office. and i was too blind to see it, even tricked myself into thinking that i was in love, when really all along, we were just in pain.” 

you point at where your heart resides, finger digging into the soft flesh cushioning your sternum. “in here. i’m irreversibly broken deep in here. some part of me that rots in the darkness, never able to see the light of day. despite having fallen out of love with him months ago, stopped expecting anything from him, i fear that i’m still broken, tobio.”

the tip of your index finger—and nail—turning white with the amount of force you’re prodding yourself with. as if you wished you could pluck the beating broken but healing organ out of your chest and replace it with an undamaged one. nothing but a strangled mess of scarred tissue growing over old wounds that bleed with ease, too much ease. still fucking broken. 

“you are more than that. more than that wounded part of yourself that you’re healing. you’re not broken.” he deftly draws your hand away from yourself, holding it because he wanted to, drawing circles into the back of your hand to remind you that you are not alone. the crowd melts away, leaving the two of you in your bubble of imagined intimacy. “you’re not broken.”

“i can’t even look at my favorite flowers without being reminded of the times he would buy them as a late apology and a rain check he never made up for. and i would wonder if there’s something wrong with me, some explanation as to why having a husband is no more different than not having one.” you blink rapidly, fingers tightening on his hand as if he could keep the helplessness at bay that way. “some reason as to why it felt more like living with a stranger i love under the same roof in that last year. he just had something to prove and i just wanted him to love me.”

“when you find the right person, they will love you the way you deserve to be loved, with everything they have. they will make sure you never doubt yourself ever again.” tobio pins you with a determined stare, the words weighing heavy on his heart, knowing that he might have you to himself in this very moment, but not forever. not forever. 

does he have to watch you fall in love this time? gods, they really have it out for him. would he even survive it this time? 

you falter, hand around his slacking in defeat. “you don’t know that.” 

you cannot fathom anyone choosing to love you, with all the jagged edges and uncertainty. 

“i know that you deserve more than him, so don’t settle for anything less than you do. trust that the right person will come along.” he says it with so much conviction that you could have mistaken him for one of the gods that chart your destiny. 

you wanted to ask him why—why he seems to believe that with his whole heart despite yourself—but the brush on your sleeve from a passing shopper breaks you out of the imaginary depths of your fears, shattering the illusion of privacy. 

what had gotten into you today? 

you recover from your momentary meltdown in public, instincts to guard and deflect kicking in among the many ears that could be listening to a conversation that should have been kept behind closed doors. “are you speaking from experience?” 

“never been in a relationship, actually.” he smiles a wistful smile at you, deciding to release his hold on your hand—as if he himself also just remembered that you are in the public eye. 

“huh, i would have thought otherwise.” 

tobio rolls his eyes playfully at your teasing. “don’t even start, i know i’m not good with words.”

“no, really. it’s a wonder you haven’t been snatched up by anyone yet.” 

“now you're just flattering me because you want me to make the carbonara pasta that you’ve been begging me to make for the past week.” 

you gape at him, in disbelief that he would use that against you when you are doing nothing but giving him a sincere compliment.

“i’m being real here. whoever you choose to love would be lucky to have you. and if they don’t feel that way, it’s their loss, really.” you gesture with an outsplayed hand, turning back to the selection of flowers, wandering down the row of autumnal varieties. 

tobio presses two fingers to his temple, sighing as he mutters under his breath, exasperated words a soft whisper on the breeze, “too bad she’s too dense to realize it.”

he panics a little at the thought of you picking his words up as you turn around with your head tipped to the side in confusion, “what did you say?”

“nothing, just that the amaryllis is pretty. you should get it.” he blurts, just happy that his muddled brain was able to come with something on the spot. never mind that he just name dropped a flower, one of many that he learnt because you once loved them, still do, it seems, just tainted by your past. 

you shake your head at him, already looking forward. “it’s alright, let’s go look at the other stalls.” moving on from the remnants of a relationship you moved to italy to outrun, and leaving them behind. 

“wait,” a sudden thought pops into tobio’s mind, and he decides to do it without letting himself overthink it. before he loses his courage. 

you watch quietly as he picks out a stalk of carnation, a dusty pink that lightens slightly towards the tip of the petal and hands it to the shopkeeper, exchanging a few words before paying and returning with a very short stem. 

“i know you still love flowers even though they are tainted by your past,” tobio swallows, hoping he does not fuck this up like he always seem to with his words, “but i want you to know that you deserve flowers just because. it doesn’t have to be an apology, or a special occasion. you deserve them just because you like them, simple as that.”

he takes a step closer to you, watching you carefully for any hints of discomfort or anguish that you might try to hide from him for his sake—hoping that you are comfortable around him enough not to. 

you find yourself holding in your breath as you meet his eyes, mesmerized by the blue of his irises up close, warm cobalt shades dancing in the light, as if they were welcoming you, reminiscent of the night skies that fall after dusk, the same navy hues that lull you to safety. 

he tucks your hair behind your ear, his touch featherlike as he slips the carnation over the crest of your ear. “there. one day the first thought that crosses your mind when you see them will not be of him, but of how pretty they are again.”

a blink. “thank you.” the words are choked, as a wave of emotions envelop you whole. you throw your arms around him haphazardly, hugging him tightly with your eyes squeezed shut for fear of your tear ducts betraying you, leaning on him for balance with your weight on the tip of your toes because of his height. 

you yield to his warmth, comforted by his arms sliding into place around you, the familiarity tugging on a memory that you cannot seem to recover, a nagging feeling of something you forgot as seconds tick by. 

“thank you, tobio.” you say it again, releasing him shyly when you realize that you held on for moments too long, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hand for any stray tears, chuckling lightly at how emotional you are being. 

somehow it feels as if a weight has been lifted off your chest after hearing his words. 

“you are loved, y/n, by your family and friends, and your fans. you are the setter who will dethrone kageyama tobio’s rule of the court, remember?” 

you recognize the quote from one of the japanese magazines that you and tobio managed to get a hold of. it makes you laugh—the type that sends tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, leaving you breathless and light and feeling like everything will be alright—and you smile at him.

it feels strangely like coming home after a long day. 

there is a twinkle in your eyes, the return of your genuine self as you ask, “and what of kageyama tobio?”

your smile hits him like the first ray of warm sunlight when snow melts away to reveal the tiny buds sprouting at the nodes of tree branches, that first truly warm day after winter when you know that spring is here. and just like the trees that have weathered the cold season, you are shaking off the cold in your bones, ready to bloom again. 

that pureness in your smile—the invisible pull that drew him into your orbit almost three years ago now emerging reforged.

gods, you are nothing short of devastating. he knows he will never be able to love anyone else like he loves you, describing it as intense does not do it justice. try all-encompassing and consuming, leaving him defenseless and dazed and wanting more. 

is that wrong of him to feel that way? that if given a choice by the gods to do it all over again, he would still choose to love you? that there is nothing he would not do, no hell he would not descend, no winter he would not weather, just to see you smile at him unadulterated?

“he believes that you are the queen of the court.”

your smile does not falter. it deepens, reaching your eyes, curving them into joyful crescents that send his heart thundering at an inhuman pace. 

“thank you for being here. i am beginning to realize what it means to live.” you make me want to live. the unspoken words hanging in space between you. 

for the first time in a very long time, tobio finds himself praying to the gods that have long abandoned him. he can only hope that they are listening. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (gen) @mintgrumpy @noble-17 @box-of-roses (tobio nation) @hiraethwrote @shouyuus @yogurtkags @mcdonaldsnumberone (add yourself here)

a/n. i sprinkled lots of little details in this one hehehe (like how it is apartment to tobio before it becomes a home) how many did you find? *giggles while plotting* it's fluffier than i intended so i hope you enjoyed <33

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole in this situation??

First of all I'm so sorry for bringing t/b discourse here but this has been so gd annoying I need help. And all this is is on twitter-retro etc.

I'm 100% here for switch please keep in mind. Idc what anyone else likes it's food I'll eat all of it. But this fandom. Oh this fandom. So here's the context, it's a anime show with a really popular almost canon mlm ship, one of them is crazy beautiful and the other one is a big muscular man. Naturally the fandom like the pretty man as bottom and the muscular man as top. Let's call this DC. Not all people tho and it's the problem.

See, there are some creators who hate the above dynamics so much they make the muscular man a woman, sometimes trans which is fine but they always babygirl him, call him wifey, use she/her pronouns, go all out to make the pretty man over the top masculine so he can be top while making the canon masculine man demure little wife. Note that they're both really tall but D has long hair so they always make him wear accessories to feminize him. I made friends with some authors who used to like switch, they wrote DC back then and they were so good. They were all into switch too. Over the years they became really hateful of DC dynamics and started to exclusively write CD, talk about CD only, rt CD art exclusively.

This is still fine, they're like 10 people out of thousands who don't care, and most people don't care. Until one day recently when I said it was better to ship switch. Those people started clowning me, saying it's their right to exclusively like whatever, write whatever, started ignoring how the show portrays them. They wrote literal threads detailing how to how use tags as if no one knows, shaded people who said they didn't care and would use whatever tags they liked. It got to a point I had to ask them to stop, they started saying I was harassing them and accused the fandom of harassing them on anon and ao3. When I said it Doesn't Matter they said it was racist to suggest that, telling me to block if I didn't like their posts. I could not make them understand how fetishistic it was, just because Japanese fans do this doesn't mean it's good or we have to follow? They somehow figured out who I was and blocked me, kicked me out of a server we were in together, so I lost mutuals and some followers too.

Then they started answering my asks unseriously like "I write CD to piss YOU off" "can't project on the twink like yall" and started insulting switch fans calling us hypocrits. There isn't much CD content to begin with how can I share more of those? Whatever is available they make it heteronormative like that. One of them deadass called me an asshole for "harassing" them just because I said it's rude to block people over t/b dynamics when no one is bothering anyone, because these people are always blocking anyone posting DC and making a bubble of CD only fans. This is bound to make them lose track of canon but who cares anymore. They keep complaining about being harassed for liking CD and yes some fans probably send anon hate but that doesn't mean any critic of CD is harassment?

Tell me how I'm the asshole here for suggesting they stop obsessing over t/b this much? How am I the asshole when I'm the one they all blocked and apparently I'm a bad guy because I followed some popular accounts who post DC and said some weird things about D which I didn't even know about.

What are these acronyms?

[angelofacidx]

Mascara

Toxic ex bf! Ghost x reader.

Cw: Verbal abuse, physical abuse, dub con

“Stumblin’ in at the ass crack of dawn dressed like a slag. Typical.” Simon grunts out, his hulking form sprawled lazily on your arm chair.

You freeze in your tracks, mouth going dry, heart beat creeping into your throat, and the hairs on your arm standing at attention. You’d expected something like this to happen soon. Since the break up you’d blocked him cold turkey on everything and tried your best to put the situation as far out of your mind as possible. It was impossible not to notice the signs of his impending debut back into your life though. The burner accounts that always viewed your social media stories first, the unknown number calls, and the middle aged man across the hall who’d warned you about a potential thief casing your place. It reeked of Simon, all of it.

“You need to get out of my house.” You say as firmly as you can, lips pulled tight and arms crossed against your chest, shielding your cleavage in the admittedly skimpy dress.

He lets out a dry chuckle with no humor behind it, somewhere deep in his chest before rising to his feet and taking a step towards you, causing you to reflexively flinch. A few more strides and you find yourself pressed to the door, barely enough room to breathe without your stomach pressing into his. His face connects to the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His scent trail follows all the way down, dropping to his knees and lifting your dress to prod at your cunt with his nose while you’re paralyzed in disbelief and fear. He lets out a low hum and taps the outside of your thigh twice before standing, seeming satisfied with his fucked up field report.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, your voice cracking and hushed as you try to not give him the satisfaction of tears.

“Had to make sure no one else used my pussy. I know she was beggin’ for something all night with the way you’re dressed. You must be starved huh, love?” He muses, his hand snaking down to cup your cunt in his hand, rubbing at your clit with his palm and not bothering to pull your underwear to the side first.

You want to call the police. You want to tell him that you hate him and to get the hell out of your place. You want to scream at him until your vocal cords tear. However, there’s a difference between a want and a need. He’d taught you that well. Right now with the alcohol still in your system and the neglect of your sex drive for months, you need him. You need to feel the way that only he can make you feel, and you can’t tell if you hate him or yourself more in this moment.

Your resistance fades away the more he palms at your pussy and is lost all together when he rips your panties off, spitting on his hand and rubbing two calloused fingers over your puffy clit. The sparks of pleasure run up your spine and down your legs, causing them to shake and become unsteady. In an act of mercy you’re slung over his shoulder and walked to your room. He drops you onto the bed unceremoniously, pawing at your dress before finally ripping it off over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

“There she is.” He hums, running his hands down the soft skin of your belly and stopping right before where you needed him most.

“Please. Simon please just—I need—.” You attempt to say before a sharp slap to your pussy cuts you off, a strangled squeal leaving your throat.

“I know what you need. I know you better than anyone.” He says lowly, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his sweats and underwear, pulling them down in a fluid motion.

His cock is rock hard, red at the tip and weepy. From the looks of it, he hadn’t gotten laid lately either. He leans forward and slaps the fat tip against your clit, a content smirk on his lips. You scold yourself mentally from almost sentimentalizing it. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be under him again. You should—.

Your thoughts completely clear as you feel the agonizing stretch of very little prep. A deep burn and sting in your core that promises to dissapear and replace itself with blissful fullness. He wastes no time, his hips rocking into you; fat cock dipping in and out of you as his balls slap against your ass. One of his hands finds it’s home on your throat and the other rests on your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow.

“You know where home is. Don’t cha’ baby? Waited nice an’ good for me to come back and take care of my pretty pussy.” He growls, the tempo of his thrusts picking up and causing your hips to ache from the constant slamming.

“Fuck you Simon.” You manage to choke out with all of the malice that you can, and in a moment of boldness spitting right in his face.

His thrusts grind to a halt and he lifts his hand to his face, using the back of his palm to wipe the spit off of his chin and onto your sheets. His eyes lock with yours, brows knitted together and pupils blown out like a jaguar about to disembowel a poor tapir. Immediately you want to take it back, to apologize and kneel at his feet and beg to him like a god for a shred of mercy. But his mind seems to be already made up.

The back of his palm connects with your cheek just once, leaving it red and stinging and angry. The tears that finally flow from your eyes drag muddy grey lines down your face, mascara and eyeliner. Simon seems to be spurred on by your disheveled look, his thrusts picking up again and hand returning to your face.

“I fuckin’ own you. Dumb little bitch. You need to be led and told what to do. Can’t be trusted alone. Gonna get yourself killed or knocked up by some deadbeat.” He grunts into your ear, his pace becoming erratic indicating that he’s nearing his end.

Your cunt clenches hard around him involuntarily, your thighs locking around him as you reach your orgasm, involuntarily milking Simon in the process. You’d be screaming if it wasn’t for the massive hand clamping your airway shut, which your neighbors are probably grateful for. With a loud moan Simon spills, his hips stilling as hot cum floods your insides. He doesn’t bother to pull out before laying next to you, half hard cock nestled comfortably in your pussy.

“Sweet thing. It’s a big world out there, you’d be lost without me wouldn’t you little stray?” He hums, licking his thumb and rubbing it against your cheek to try and wipe off the makeup mess.

“…Yes, Si.” You agree, full of shame and guilt.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

"How about something to eat? You hungry?" The man startles you as he closes the gap, looming at youe shoulder. 

You face him as your eyes round and you look past him. Everyone else is absorbed in the real party, meanwhile your sidelined with an unwanted shadow. Why cant you just be invisible like you always were? 

"No thanks," you lie. 

The smell of the barbeque is making you hungry but you don't want to give this guy any invitation to hang around. You only came for Rhiannon. You don't know why this guy is even sniffing around. 

"You vegetarian or something?" He prompts as he gestures with his beer bottle. 

You shake your head, "appreciate it but I'm not hungry." 

"Well, not hungry, I'm Walter." 

You crinkle your brow and blink at him. He nods and cringes. 

"You know I heard one of the other guys make that joke... wasn't funny the first time." 

You swallow and try to laugh, letting out a rocky croak, "um..." you give your name and tuck your thumbs into your front pockets. 

"Ah, finally, got something," he gives a slanted smirk. "So, how about a hamburger?" 

You purse your lips. You said no. You don't like repeating yourself. Just like most people, he isn't listening to you. 

"I should go find my sister," you step towards him and he moves with you. 

You stutter step, thinking for a moment he means to block you in. He backs off and extends an arm towards the rest of the yard, "maybe I'll see you around the block. Place gets boring between all these barbeques..." he finishes off his bottle of beer and eyes its emptiness through the brown glass, "I could use a distraction." 

You continue past him and take long steps across the grass. Very strange. You don't know what to make of that. Distraction? 

You hear Rhiannon before you see her. Shes giggling with one of her friends.... Staci Ann, you think. You can't keep track. She has a plate of salads and a half-eaten hot dog. She looks up as you approach. 

"Hey! Oh, didn't you grab some food?" She trills. 

"Um, no, I... it's okay." 

"No, you should eat! It's so good. They have chicken burgers." 

"I... okay." 

You turn and slink away, evading the eyes of Staci Ann and the other primped housewives. You approach the picnic table and grab a bun. You add some mayo and mustard, a slice of tomato, and a pickle, then scoop up some salad beside it. You wait your turn in the line for the barbecue and ask for one of the pale chicken burgers. 

You walk away with your fare, nearly colliding with another body. You lift your chin in fright, tearing your attention from your food. You gulp at Walter as he squints and eyes you up and done. His lips twitch and he points at you with the neck of the bottle in his hand. 

"Gotcha." 

You back up out if his way and look past him guiltily. He doesn't say anything else as he stalks by and you quickly turn to look for your safe haven. Rhiannon is lost amid an even bigger cluster. You sigh and drop your shoulders. 

You sneak over to the gate. No one seems to notice as you let yourself through the wooden door and tramp out to the front. You sit on the curb and balance your plate on your crossed legs. 

You feel bad. That guy might be a stranger but he wasn't rude. And what did he mean? Gotcha? Does he think you're a bitch? Maybe you are. Some would say standoffish or shy, but you're probably just ignorant. 

You put the top bun on the burger and hang your head. No matter where you go, you just dont fit. Hopefully you can get out of Rhiannon's hair sooner than later. You'd hate to give her a bad reputation by association. 

👟

The days are a gray smear across your consciousness. You wake up, trawl the internet for postings, and hide away from the world. You have to keep at it. Something has to give. Rhiannon seems so certain that a miracle is on its way, you just know you'll probably have to settle for less than you want. 

That morning, you wake up with a crick in your neck. You yawn and sit up as a pang shoots under your shoulder blade. You turn your legs over the edge of the bed and bend over your lap, reaching to the floor as you try to stretch your lanky arms. 

You stand straight and raise your hands toward the ceiling. Your tee shirt lifts and shows your tummy as your pajama shorts feel even more scant above your long legs. You roll your neck one way then the other and let out a whimper. Big mistake. 

You lumber to the door and listen through the wood. Your room opens into the kitchen. It can be awkward when you walk out and there's someone in there. You learned to be cautious when exiting. 

You inch open the door and look around the morning din. You cross the cool tile and take the tin of coffee grounds. You fill the filter for the machine and snap it into place. For a moment, you stop to envy your sister's perfect life as the overpriced brewer starts to whir. 

You lean against the counter and bow your head, rubbing your neck. You blow out between your lips and groan, turning to rest against the corner. You let out a babble as your surprised by a figure in the far doorway. 

Your sister's husband got back the night before. You were certain to make yourself sparse and kept your headphones on later than usual. You stand straight and keep your hand against the side of your neck. 

"Morning," you utter. 

He stares at you as he slowly crosses the kitchen, coming around the other side of the square island, "morning." 

You shy away as he takes out a mug and puts it heavily in front of the machine. He snaps shut the cupboard and you put spqce between you and him. You feel the tension roiling off him. Since you got there, he's been tense and you can't blame him. You're crashing in his spare room when he should be enjoying his newlywed status. 

"Wanna put some pants on," he says as he crosses his arms. 

You gulp and look down, "I have... shorts." 

"Coulda fooled me," he sneers, "my house." 

"Sorry, I... sorry." 

You retreat and hurry back towards your room. You didn't think they were that short. You feel the back hem. They end just at the top of your thighs but don't show anything more than leg. 

You glance back at his broad shoulders as you close the door. His teeth shirt strains across his back as he presses his hands flat to the countertop. You find a pair of sweats in your bag and pull them on. 

You don't go back out right away. You hope to wait him out and listen for the machine's grind to end before opening the door. He's still there, sipping his coffee as he stands at the island, his phone on the marble top as he scrolls with a finger. 

You take out a cup of your own and fill it. He clucks and you put the put back on the burner. He sighs and glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

"There's instant in the cupboard. It's cheaper." 

You wince, "oh, sorry, I..." 

"You know, this isn't a charity--" 

"I... I offered Rhiannon money for groceries--" 

"She's too nice to take it. We both know that. It's my house, so talk to me. You wan a contribute, I'll gladly accept." 

You stare at him sheepishly then look at the coffee, "okay." 

He huffs again, "I don't get it. How are you related to her?" 

You shrug, "I'll get out of your way soon. Promise." 

You drag your feet around the counter and he tuts, "no food in your room. I don't need ants." 

You stop short and turn back to him. You don't get him  either. You don't get what Rhiannon sees in him. 

You near the island and sip the coffee before letting the mug rest on the marble. You peer down at the dark liquid, wallowing in his roiling silence. He bends to lean on his elbows, slurping and tapping at his phone.

"You ever keep a promise?" He speaks at last and his blue eyes flick up, "just wondering."

You frown. You have no right to argue or get mad. He has every reason to doubt you. You're certain he's heard all about your mess ups.

"Well, you know," he stands and lifts his mug and swipes up his phone, "maybe you should find a man. Maybe he could put your head on straight."

He turns and struts away, leaving you to rot in his judgement. You can't even do that. You're just a burden to everyone, even your own family.

[hwadess]

[00:28] stoner!yunho (s)

this is actually my first fic ever on this account and i haven’t really kept up with writing since like 2019??? lol… here goes nothing! i did not fully proof read this so if there are any errors pls let me know 😭 also, i feel like this goes without saying but obviously i know weed is NOT legal in south korea, but this is a work of fiction and i like having fun. i am 100% projecting. yep! anyways,

warnings are underneath the cut!

MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

remember, tumblr’s algorithm works off of reblogs. i love and appreciate likes but please reblog my work as well if you like it ♡ much love!

warnings: reader has female anatomy and is called gendered terms associated primarily with females, !!!usage of marijuana!!!, dom!yunho, some light stoner terms, reader tells yunho to stop but doesnt mean it, size kink, use of nicknames/pet names/titles (baby girl, tiny, angel, doll, good girl, yuyu, sir), obv strong language, unprotected sex (please always stay safe during sex!), creampie, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f receiving), degradation, humiliation. if i forgot any i will add!

word count: idk i edited it in app and lost track (jk update its 3,479!

your friend group was definitely a crazy one, hosting escapades you could never imagine by yourself, making so many memories. all of your firsts were with your friends by your side. hell, you would be with your friends every single second of every day if you could, but today when yunho came home talking about how he had someone in the group find some really good weed, you knew you had to try it alone with him. even though you knew you’d definitely hear from wooyoung about it later. yunho told you that he was sworn to that it would create one of the best highs you had ever faced.

god, you were hoping that his friend was right. you knew how you were when you smoked, you were excited. of course, the two of you could not waste such an opportunity, right?

your head is filled with warmth as your body started feeling floaty, the harsh coughing from the first hit of this third blunt really helping the feeling set in. the drug began to hit you even harder at this point, turning your entire world into a dizzy, yet comfortable daze. you look over at yunho, eyes half lidded from the effects of the bud, bright with the reflection of the led lights that outlined the corners of your bedroom walls.

you took a second to absorb every single detail of his appearance, his hoodie somehow big on him, making you wonder how you’d look wearing it, remembering how big he is already. he was wearing sweatpants, the string on it tightened just enough to hold them loosely around his hips. the weed had the gears in your mind grinding even harder than usual, he looked fucking amazing.

you don’t know if it was the overwhelming urge to be close to him, or what got into you, but before you knew it, your leg was thrown over his lap, and you were there, straddling him on the sofa in the bedroom. taken back by this a bit, yunho breathlessly laughs before cocking a brow at you, head lolling back lazily along the back of the couch from laughing. you take your almost completely cashed blunt, placing it in the ashtray beside the two of you, immediately bringing light kisses to the part of his neck thats barely exposed by the oversized hoodie. fuck, he was so perfect.

that’s all it took, his body began to react what seemed almost instantaneously, his hips subconsciously pressing against you, starting the process of getting hard, as he grabbed your waist for leverage.

“ooh what’s this, pretty girl,” he cooed out, pushing your hair back out of your face, exposing all of your features even more to him. you were so pretty, “some weed got your little pussy wet?”

“no, you did,” you barely managed, the breath barely leaving your lungs. he smirked at you before tapping your side, automatically remembering that’s his sign for wanting you to raise your arms to sneak off your shirt.

“well, i’d better take care of this little problem i created, don’t you think doll?” with large yet gentle hands, he eased you off his lap on the sofa to take you to the opposite side of the room to his bed.

the room was coated in a haze of smoke as the bed creaked ever so quietly underneath the weight of you two. the harsh smell of this particular leaf clung to your senses but you were used to it, the smell didn’t bother you as much as you thought. even if you weren’t used to it, you weren’t sure how much you could even pay attention to the smell of anything when your tall boyfriend was pulling off his sweatpants to reveal his semi-hardened cock. your mind was full, the thoughts mixing in your head, enough to make you fucking dizzy. the effects of what you smoked had long since taken over, you were feeling so much.

“you wanted to start this, so go ahead.” he said, moving back onto the bed with you and then laying down against the bed, head on the pillows, gesturing down with his chin.

you knew better than to act stupid. your whole body shuddered when you looked up at him and saw him wearing the cockiest smirk you swear you had ever seen in your life. he was gonna be the death of you.

you crawled on top of him, taking the same position you had on the bedroom sofa, but this time you took his thick cock in your hand, positioning the tip of him at your entrance.

“wait, angel” he interjected, grabbing your wrist to make you release his cock. your swear your need was about to boil over any second now, mind burning with the thought of how close he was to filling your needy hole up.

“do you think you can take me like this?” he asked, looking at how big his cock looked next to your cunt. you stared back at him, blinking blearily, you were overtaken with confusion and the empty feeling in your chest having the pleasure of his cock that was so tantalizingly close ripped away from you, so hungry for his cock buried in you.

“just a couple more things, doll,” yunho adjusted in his spot, putting pillows underneath the back of his head, so he was laying up a bit more. he brought one large hand to your waist to stabilize you so you stayed still on your knees above him while his other hand slid between your thighs, spreading your folds to run his finger down to find your wet entrance. when he felt the arousal seeping from you just by gliding his fingers through your slit, he hummed softly, sinking two digits inside you which drew a pathetic cry from you.

his fingers were coated in your wetness as he pulled them out, but he still took a moment to tease you by brushing the pads of his fingers along your clit and dip his fingers in just an inch or so a few times until he was satisfied enough with how worked up you were. it wasn’t until yunho retrieved it that you realized he had his unfinished blunt tucked behind his ear, licking off his fingers coated with your juices before grabbing the lighter on the nightstand and lighting it, unexpectedly blowing all the smoke right into your face, making your eyes burn with tears. if they were from the smoke, or from need, that you weren’t too sure of.

“alright pretty baby, you should sink down for me,” he ashed his blunt before looking back at you, cocking an eyebrow at you, making you shiver.

his eyes were on your shaky ones as you eagerly positioned him at your entrance. the moan you let out as every single inch of thick cock grazed against against your walls menacingly slow was absolutely sinful. the neediness in your moan made yunho’s cock twitch inside you as you slowly worked him deeper into your wet cunt.

“now that’s a good girl, huh?,” yunho groaned out, one arm beneath his head on the pillow and the other gripping your waist. between his lips was the blunt, smoke going up in a helix from the burning tip and the corner of his mouth as he panted, feeling your tight walls squeeze him, filling up your little stretched out cunt.

your body was so sensitive to every touch, every single feeling running through your body. you could feel yunho’s cock everywhere. it was so overwhelming. all you could think about was how delicious it felt that his cock was ramming into that one particular spot that made you feel like you were going to pass out right there on his dick splitting you open.

your whole body was so sensitive from the pot, so much so that you found yourself on the edge quickly. your body began to tremble harder than you have before and you gasped out to your boyfriend, hands reaching to bring him closer,

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” yunho laughs, feeling your cunt clench around his cock, “already, huh?” he mocks you, taking another hit while he watches your trembling fingers leave the grip on his shirt to find your swollen clit to hurl yourself into your crashing orgasm. your hips spasmed uncontrollably and your cunt was squeezing him as you came all around his thick cock, but you continued to ride him, abandoning your clit in favor of going back to grabbing onto his hoodie for leverage.

“fuck, tiny, you’re so good,” he grunted, rutting his cock up into you deeper. “yuyu, y-your c-cock is… s-so g-good,” you barely managed to choke out, bottoming out and grinding your clit against the base of his cock as you felt another orgasm already building in your tummy.

“gonna cum again?” he laughed this time, making your cheeks sting with humilation, but if anything this fueled you working yourself over the edge for him until you were trembling on top of his cock once more.

“fuck!” you yelped out, focusing on your bouncing to aim his cock to brush against the spot that feels the best. you didn’t even give yourself a break, eager to find your next release, eager to make him cum. you just wanted to be so good for him, all you wanted him was for him to fill you up with his cum.

yunho was basically panting, skin glowing shiny under the blue led lights in the room as a light coat of sweat coated his forehead, and he couldn’t deny that you looked so gorgeous right now. he adored when you were so insatiable to the point where you lost your mind on his cock, using him as your toy to make yourself cum. he was more than happy to sit there and let you take what your body needed.

and you, you were a sight for sore eyes. sweat beading over your body with your head thrown back, as you ground down on him with your little cunt filled with his long cock. you had already cum so much already, and you weren’t sure how much or what time it even was. time was a blur at this point, and it was the last thing you were gonna think about. the creases of your thighs, as well as his were both covered in your cum, creating sloppy, loud wet noises every time your skin met.

you were positive you had stained the bed beneath the two of you now, there was no way it hadn’t. it was filthy and you both fucking loved it.

“fuck, yunho!” you pathetically wailed, holding yourself down as deep as possible once you bottomed out, reaching down with a desperate hand to brush against your swollen clit gently enough to initiate the most toe-curling orgasm out of yourself that you think you have ever experienced. yunho groaned, pulling the blunt out of his mouth to blow a lungful of smoke back into your face as you gasped for air from cumming so hard.

“god, i can fucking feel you cum like that doll,” he groaned, tucking the rillo back in his mouth in to grab onto your tits, relentlessly pinching your hardened nipple between his fingers.

“jesus fucking christ,” you groaned, placing your hands behind you on his thighs, using him for leverage as you began to bounce onto him again. you had no idea how the burn of your thighs wasn’t bothering you as much as it should’ve been, but you just equated it to the thc flowing through your system. “you feel so fucking good, yuyu, fuck!”

“what was that?” something shifted in him, watching you through dark and heavy eyes as you lost yourself on his cock. his cock twitched in your cunt so hard, “your tiny cunt’s so fucking sensitive, couldn’t stop cumming even if you wanted to, huh?”

“fuck. yuyu, i’m gonna cum.” the nickname took his breath away, he loved how pathetic and small you looked while hungrily bouncing on his cock, calling him such a cute nickname. he could never admit it but the nickname made him fall apart, but he wasn’t going to admit that. yunho hisses, feeling your cunt clench around his cock that he swears has never been this hard before.

your head went blank, everything was subconscious at this point, digging your nails into the skin of his thighs, grinding your clit against the hilt every time his cock filled you to the brim.

yunho scowled, seemingly unsatisfied that you weren’t answering him. he sat up slightly, tangling a hand into your hair and gripping a fistful tightly to force you to stop bouncing on him, making your eyes meet his worriedly.

your pupils were blown, eyes shining with tears of need. your body was trembling above him as a sign that you were desperately close to another orgasm, and he stole that from you. this was the first time he had really moved since you got onto the bed, and the sight of him taking another long, thick hit, tapping off the ash off the side of the bed carelessly, and then blowing the smoke right into your face with a blank expression had you clenching pathetically around him.

“hmm, i asked you a question, angel,” he cooed, speech a little mumbled as he held the blunt between his lips again to free up both of his hands. wrapping both hands around your waist to shove you onto his cock the deepest it could possibly reach.

“i, i didn’t hear what you asked…” you whimpered, his cock making contact with your cervix from the angle he was sitting at now.

“i know that. poor thing,” he loosened his hold on your hair to move to cup your face almost a confusing amount of gentle, “so fucked out on my cock you can’t even think? is that what’s happening here?”

“y-yes sir,” you whimpered, the attempt to grind down against him unnoticed failed as your clit throbbed so painfully from the neglect.

“sir, huh? cute. sir fucked you dumb?” he smirked, reaching up and taking away the blunt completely now, putting it fully in the ashtray that was at the nightstand.

“y-yes,” it was a small reply, not able to get anything out that was more than that. you just wanted to cum for him again.

“my stupid little baby girl,” he chuckled, his lips against yours. you immediately responded, the pot aftertaste lingering in his mouth. you wrapped your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss as you began to bounce on him again.

“fuck,” you cried, feeling close as you ground your clit against his pelvic bone every time you sunk down onto him. yunho lowered himself back down against the pillows again, but this time, he wasn’t letting you take control in any sort of way this time. he started to fuck up into your dripping cunt instead of leaving the work to you completely.

“rub that clit tiny, cum on my cock again,” he panted out, grabbing your free hand, which had been busy playing with your nipples, to press your fingers against flush your clit. “fuck that’s it,” he praised when he felt your pussy flutter around him, watching you gently circle the bud as you rode him to your high.

the sight of you just using his body for your own pleasure while feeling your warm cunt wrapped around his throbbing cock was beginning to become too much, he could feel the heat of his own orgasm beginning to sneak up on him. the amount of self control he’s able to show after all this time was still astounding to you, and you just wanted to break that and let him paint your insides with his cum.

“fuck, fuck, i’m cumming again,” you got out in between broken words and gasps for air, thighs trembling as your high washed over you so hard it almost hurt. this time, the force from the orgasm was so intense you were unable to hold yourself up and you leaned down to rest your face against his chest as you panted and trembled through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

everything happened way too fast, and suddenly you found yourself on your back with yunho towering above you. his cock slipped out of you in the process, making your hole clench pathetically when you realized you weren’t full anymore.

“what are you doing…” you whined, arching your hips in a lazy attempt to get him back inside you.

“im gonna eat you out,” he mumbled, instantly lowering on the bed until his head was between your thighs. “oh fuck, you’re soaking,” he used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, exposing your entrance and swollen clit to the chilly air in the room. “how many times have you cum?”

“i don’t remember,” you muttered almost lifelessly. it felt so nice to be lying on your back again and giving your legs a break. you were so gone at this point, how could you remember?

“what a slut,” he growled, dragging the flat of his tongue against the tip of your clit, before shoving his tongue into your hole, coating his tongue in your delicious juices. your hands shuffling to yank at his hair when he used the tip of his tongue to graze your clit gently.

“holy fuck, that feels so good,” you whined out, arching your hips to grind against his tongue, making him chuckle.

it was unfair, how fucking good yunho’s cock felt in you, and how he had a sinfully good mouth. the feeling of his tongue licking over your swollen bud and you remembering how good his cock felt filling you up just minutes ago had you you cumming so much, spiraling into another screaming orgasm. this time, however, as your eyes rolled back and you let out a shriek of his nickname that he loved so much, you felt yourself utterly gush against his tongue.

“fuuuck,” yunho growled, sitting back on his heels before immediately sliding into your embarrassingly wet cunt without a second thought. the noises that came when he sunk into you would have embarrassed you if you not for the weed and the adrenaline pumping through your system.

“c-can’t anymore, yuyu, please stop,” you whined, but made no attempts to halt him as he began pounding into your sopping wet cunt.

“fuck. i. got. you. babygirl,” he whispered through grunts, attempting to give your lips little pecks although his deep and rough thrusts offset them a bit. “can you cum once more for me?” he panted out, eyes scanning over your fucked out, dumb expression.

“if you cum in me,” you compromised, drawing a dark change in his eyes from him as he nodded.

“anything you want, tiny,” the two of you fell into relative silence aside from your whines and moans mixing with his grunts and the wet sound of his cock fucking so deeply your cunt. he licked his pretty fingers before reaching down to spread your lips open and found your swollen clit, brushing against your bud softly as he knew how sensitive it would be and it felt like someone was shooting electricity down your nerves.

he continued to fuck you until you reached your last high, thighs clamping and trembling around his waist and your hand ripping his away from your throbbing clit. with a handful of powerful, deep thrusts, ropes of his thick cum were filling you up, and a long drawn-out groan came from his sweet lips.

the both of you were still for a minute, just sharing a moment to take a few deep breaths as his cock softened inside you before he pulled out, making you gasp from the realization of how spent your hole was. his cum leaked out of you, dripping down onto his blue comforter. he sighed, before catching it with his fingers. he brought his wet and soiled fingers to your lips, and you eagerly took them into your mouth with a small whimper; the bitter flavor of his cum spreading over your tongue.

watching yunho sink his exhausted body down to force your thighs apart wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when the two of you were done. you were tired but you sighed, letting your eyes gently shut as his tongue slid between your folds to catch the mixture of both of your cum thats leaking out of you profusely at this rate, while being gentle enough to not even brush against your clit anymore tonight.

“i love you,” yunho pets your head, fingers combing gently through your hair, “so good for me.”

“i love you, yuyu,” you hum. you don’t think you’re ever smoking with any of your friends present ever again.

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[starburts-addict]

Aftermath

Note: I did my own aftermath version of the Shiny Jr fic. Some details were heavily inspired by Qeirxing's fic. Because I really did like how some things played out in their fic, but mine has noticeable differences. This work isn't 100% original fanfiction material, but it was just a fun thing I decided to write. Also it isn't 100% proofread.

CW: graphic recollection of choking, paranoia, PTSD-like symptoms,, obsessive behavior, threats (on the reader's side), unhealthy coping mechanisms

How long has it been? How long has it been since you arrived at what was supposed to be a wonderful and bittersweet experience? You don't know, nor do you care. Being stuck in such a cursed place that used to be your escape from reality was terrifying. Hell, you may have physically recovered from the multitude of attacks that day, but you haven't been the same. Constantly lacking sleep due to nightmares and you being paranoid if anyone who had the balls to break into your 'home away from home' would do so. You couldn't even call it your home away from home. It felt more like a prison you decided to isolate yourself in as Grim comes and goes as he pleases. You don't get mad at him for staying indifferent to what had happened. After all, he knew what these guys were like before your arrival in this game world.

Things were okay. You just had to stay inside, make sure you only go outside at certain times to get fresh air, and remove any social apps from your phone. That includes deleting any accounts it came with. It was just Magicam, you wished you could delete the calling and messaging in your phone, but all you could do was block any calls and texts that weren't from the teachers and faculty. Honestly, it was just the Teachers and Sam. You had half a mind to block Crowley as sometimes he would call you to start attending classes with Grim. Saying that the students have been rowdier with each other. Whatever that meant.

Grim still hung out with Ace and Deuce like normal, but ever since that attack, he's been more annoyed towards them. Fucking! Not just them! He's been annoyed at the entirety of the main cast!

Not only have they been badgering him with questions about your status, but they have been sending him home with stuff for the both of you. And most uncanny of all of this, they've been nicer to grim. Which, honestly? Has been very disturbing to him. Grim was so used to the hostility he's seen that seeing their desperate and futile attempts to get you to forgive them was terrifying.

Crewel, Trein, and Sam have the major staff who have come to visit you. Vargas was too busy making sure none of the boys could come to impose on your privacy. Crewel and Trein would sometimes tell you how holing yourself in the ramshackle dorm, but you reminded them that you aren't in a world that you don't belong in and have consequently received a trauma that you should have never gotten in the first place. Sam sometimes had to mediate when things almost turned into an argument. The three of you end up apologizing to each other. The only people you would ever apologize to in this game. Crowley would sometimes come visit and even try to demand you start attending classes. Saying he just wanted things to be less hostile between the students. Every single, annoying time he did, you'd end up threatening him with your departure to the rival school, saying that they will most definitely be the better school to take care of you. You knew that was a lie. You were actually unsure if the main side cast of Royal Sword Academy were any less dangerous. If you do end up running away, you'd rather stay on the island with the NPC residents of Sage Town.

It has just been another day that you have lost track of. Grim had come back from classes just like every other day. It's not like they get weekends off, Maybe in the story, but not within the actual mechanisms of the game. Once again Grim is watching videos on the phone on the couch, and this time you watched along. Usually, you'd spend your time cleaning the rundown place or even talking to the ghosts about your life in your own world. Beyond the game. You missed a lot, but today you were bored. You didn't like having that phone from the game. It only has reminders that this isn't your world. You started to get bored with the videos. It was starting to get dark, and you were tired of having Trein and Crewel open every single library book for you and find you a way home. You were tired of waiting. So you decided that right now seemed like the right time to go to the library. You stood up and looked at Grim. "Grim, I'm going to the library, want to come with?" Grim looked at you surprised, as if you just told him something shocking, well, it might as well have been because ever since you got here you haven't really gotten beyond the Ramshackle dorm ever since that day.

"Are you sure? You avoided stepping out further than the back door." He was worried, which brought you comfort. Out of everyone in the game, you could trust Grim the most. After all, he saved you from an untimely death and apparently cleared up a misunderstanding. A deadly one. Thinking about it, you nodded at Grim and gave him a simper. "Of course. I need to help find a way home." Grim exhaled. "As your protector, I must go. Just in case you get uncomfortable." You petted him as you got up from the couch.

Walking out the front door, you hesitated to open it, but in the end, you ended up opening the door. Off in the distance towards the mailbox that seems to stand barely. You see the plethora of packages and letters they have sent you after you blocked all their numbers and had Vargas fend off anyone who dares enter. It wasn't like the headmaster would fully prevent them from coming to your doorstep. Once you made sure the coast was clear you walked towards the gate where the mailbox was. Curiosity filled you as you wanted to see what the letters held. Although you had a huge idea of what they held, which held you back. As you patted the mailbox sorta to praise it for standing like this, one of the letters fell down. You picked it up and noticed it was from Malleus. The one who almost killed you.

You wanted to rip apart, cut and leave it on the mailbox to show the others what you would start doing if they didn't quit sending you things and harassing Grim about you but against your wishes, you decided to open it up. Grim looked at you with a concerned look. "You don't have ta if you don't want to." You shook your head. "It's fine." You opened up the letter carefully, tearing the wax seal off first and then tearing the flap off. The contents disturbed you, to say the least. The letter was desperate as soon as you read the beginning. You looked at the back, and that was even more disturbing.

The back had started off as a continuation of the beginning, but when the letter was supposed to stop at one sentence of 'I'm Sorry', it continued. The sentence 'I'm Sorry' continued towards the page's bottom. You couldn't tell if it was a diary entry that he decided to mail or what. There were two things that you can deduct. Grim had severely underestimated their obsessive admiration for you, it was beyond that. There were hardly any words that could describe this beyond deplorable behavior. Without a second thought, Grim swatted the card from your hand and tossed it alongside the pile of cards and packages he made without you paying attention. Before you could do anything, he burned it all. "No more of that. Besides, you're on a mission! Don't get so distracted [First]!" Grim stated, marching his way to the library. You followed behind catching up to Grim. Feeling relieved that Grim still wanted to protect you.

Eventually, you both arrive at the Library. You were actually surprised to hear from Grim that the library is open all day and night, but you are in a game, so you ended up losing that surprise. You wandered the library trying to find a starting place to even think where you could start looking. Eventually, you and Grim decide to split up. Hoping that maybe one of us can find a good starting place. As you were walking on the other side of the library, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your paranoia was kicking in, and bad. You tried so hard to ignore it, but your feelings from being chased came back and you turned around.

To your horror, it was Malleus. He was about to approach you and you just stared at him. You couldn't move. The feeling of your throat being squeezed and the feeling of blood trickling down your throat, the pressure of the nails, and the feeling of air under your feet as you dangle up in the air all come rushing back as you hold back the urge to hold your throat. You didn't want to insult the dragon prince and face his wrath again. It was quite terrifying the first time, it will be the second time.

You couldn't squeak out anything, you seemed like a deer in headlights, but when you were about to open your mouth, Malleus spoke."How have you been?" He uttered. He seemed to be walking on a minefield, making sure that what he does is correct to not set off anything. You wanted to sneer at him for even asking that stupid question. You wanted to respond by saying, you clearly weren't doing well if they haven't seen them in a long time, but you advised yourself against it. "Okay, I guess." Malleus clearly wanted to rebuttal but didn't. "Have you received our cards, me and the others have noticed you haven't gotten the mail every time we drop something off." You almost physically cringed when he brought that up. You remember the card of his you read and how truly disturbing it was, but you don't bring it up. "I don't really leave Ramshackle itself." You shrugged. "I just saw the letters today, I'll read them when I get back." You said. It was a lie, of course. Grim had burned everything to a crisp after seeing you look terrified again. You couldn't tell him that though, you don't know what would happen to Grim if he found out.

There was a pause of silence. Both of you glanced away from each other to avoid awkward staring. It was annoying to you how Malleus so far has been pretending as if he didn't almost kill you. That was until Malleus spoke. "I really want you to know how sorry we are for hurting you. How sorry I am for hurting you and causing physical pain." To you, he looked absolutely pathetic for even trying to apologize. You wanted to humiliate Malleus for almost killing you, but you held back. That would make you as bad as the main cast. "… Don't worry about it. Just drop it." You ended up insisting. The fae prince seemed saddened by your response but didn't say anything. After all, he isn't the type to beg from what you gathered from his character when you played the game in the comfort of your room.

More silence ensued, but instead of Malleus breaking the silence, you did. "What brings you to the library?" Malleus seemed surprised that you asked him something about him, even if it was to ask about the purpose of his arrival. Just for a second, he seemed a little too happy for your taste. "I'm here on club activities, I would like to see the architecture of the library." He sounded a little too desperate. That caused you suspicion, instead of egging on, you thought it was best if you didn't.

Then you heard more voices coming in through the library, they sounded loud. Well, at least one of them did. The other one tried to shush the loud voice. You knew who they were. It sounded exactly like Silver and Sebek. "It sounds as if Silver and Sebek are here, I'll leave." You bluntly stated. Before you could turn around, you heard loud footsteps coming closer and almost at a running speed and then you heard him. "MY LO-" Sebek had cut himself off as he saw you. You recoiled at his voice, which was the loudest thing in the library. Then Silver and Grim came along. You weren't as scared of Silver as you were of Sebek and Malleus, but you were terrified of him nonetheless. You took a small step back and Grim took the initiative to stand in front of you just in case.

You were surprised to see Sebek kneel in front of you. Before Silver could say anything to prevent him from saying anything, Sebek yelled his apology. "Player, please forgive me for my insolence! Punish me as you see fit!" Malleus was left stunned and Silver grabbed Sebek and pulled him up and covered his mouth. It seemed out of character to you, Silver isn't really the type to get physical unless he has to. Grim was stunned at Sebek, dumbfounded even. The sleepy knight turned to Malleus and tried to hold himself back from scolding his lord. "My Lord, please stop trying to run off like that. We're lucky that Sebek has a good eye and saw where you ran off to." Malleus cringed when he said that. You looked at Malleus suspiciously. "I thought you said you were here for club activities." Silver looked at you and Malleus, he seemed to have had the color of his face drained as he still held Sebek who sounded muffled and tried to shake Silver off. Malleus couldn't even look you in the eye and turned his head in shame.

Grim shook his head in disappointment. "You guys keep making things worse for yourselves." You looked at Grim and then at the three Diasomnia members before speaking. "We'll take our leave, let's go Grim." You walked off towards the end of the row of books to avoid going through the three men who tried to bring harm to you once. Grim followed behind you and three other men seemed like they wanted to protest your departure, but they walked in the opposite direction.

The way back to Ramshackle was quiet, but you were busy thinking about that interaction. Maybe it would be best if you visit the library later in the night whenever you want to do research.

[jewish-vents]

I lost a good friend of mine because of the stupid conflict.

It happened on the Day of Rememberance, you know, the day Holocaust survivors and their relatives march down the tracks leading to Auschwitz in Poland. There were Palestinian protestors at the sight basically heckling at these people trying to honor their lost loved ones and I got so upset. I was friends with the person in question for over 5 years, and I thought I could confide in them.

I mentioned how inappropriate it was to wave the Palestinian flag in the faces of survivors and their families because The Holocaust and the March of Remembrance has nothing to do with the conflict. These are people mourning the loss of friends, spouses, children. It’s tasteless to heckle at them for something they didn’t even do. I started contemplating if this was a hate crime and she snapped at me. My former friend then accused me of being a complicit Zionist, she insulted my family. “It’s how you were raised, you were raised to believe all this bullshit”, insinuating that Jewish families are so possessive we can’t grow outside them. I had previously mentioned to her that I was scared of the college protests going on at the time and she shamed me for that too. I’m Jewish and I’m psychotic, and it wasn’t the movement making me uncomfortable- it was the fact that randos on the street were on my campus commiting vandalism where I go to class that made me uncomfortable. It was paranoia inducing. My elderly aunt and other family members live in Los Angeles where a lot of the antisemitic hate crimes occurred. A Jewish man in LA was recently beaten to death around the time this happened. I was scared for my family, we’re very visibly Jewish. I was even almost assaulted on my college campus for being Jewish. But she didn’t let me explain and she blocked me without letting me talk to her.

She then told our other mutual friends (around 12 people) of what a shit person I am and how I spew hate speech and I support killing babies. I had a depressive/psychotic break mixed episode for around 2 months after all that where I contemplated ending it all. I’m fine now, and I realized how idiotic all those former friends are. They were antisemitic all along, they just had pretty wrapping paper to decorate their hatred with now. Said former friend said they support Palestine and boycott but they go to Disney monthly, they have a Disney account, they work at Starbucks. If they’re gonna be such an asshole to me about not supporting Palestine enough they should quit their job and stop being a fucking hypocrite. I’ve been boycotting Disney since I was a child, it wasn’t allowed in my house, and it STILL isn’t. Fuck those people I once called friends, because the moment I didn’t blindly agree with them I’m suddenly an evil jew who kills babies. I’m not sad about it anymore. I just wish the worst for them. Antisemites are lower than scum to me. Thanks for this account.

.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A link-clump demands a linkdump

Cometh the weekend, cometh the linkdump. My daily-ish newsletter includes a section called "Hey look at this," with three short links per day, but sometimes those links get backed up and I need to clean house. Here's the eight previous installments:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

The country code top level domain (ccTLD) for the Caribbean island nation of Anguilla is .ai, and that's turned into millions of dollars worth of royalties as "entrepreneurs" scramble to sprinkle some buzzword-compliant AI stuff on their businesses in the most superficial way possible:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2023/08/ai-fever-turns-anguillas-ai-domain-into-a-digital-gold-mine/

All told, .ai domain royalties will account for about ten percent of the country's GDP.

It's actually kind of nice to see Anguilla finding some internet money at long last. Back in the 1990s, when I was a freelance web developer, I got hired to work on the investor website for a publicly traded internet casino based in Anguilla that was a scammy disaster in every conceivable way. The company had been conceived of by people who inherited a modestly successful chain of print-shops and decided to diversify by buying a dormant penny mining stock and relaunching it as an online casino.

But of course, online casinos were illegal nearly everywhere. Not in Anguilla – or at least, that's what the founders told us – which is why they located their servers there, despite the lack of broadband or, indeed, reliable electricity at their data-center. At a certain point, the whole thing started to whiff of a stock swindle, a pump-and-dump where they'd sell off shares in that ex-mining stock to people who knew even less about the internet than they did and skedaddle. I got out, and lost track of them, and a search for their names and business today turns up nothing so I assume that it flamed out before it could ruin any retail investors' lives.

Anguilla is a British Overseas Territory, one of those former British colonies that was drained and then given "independence" by paternalistic imperial administrators half a world away. The country's main industries are tourism and "finance" – which is to say, it's a pearl in the globe-spanning necklace of tax- and corporate-crime-havens the UK established around the world so its most vicious criminals – the hereditary aristocracy – can continue to use Britain's roads and exploit its educated workforce without paying any taxes.

This is the "finance curse," and there are tiny, struggling nations all around the world that live under it. Nick Shaxson dubbed them "Treasure Islands" in his outstanding book of the same name:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780230341722/treasureislands

I can't imagine that the AI bubble will last forever – anything that can't go on forever eventually stops – and when it does, those .ai domain royalties will dry up. But until then, I salute Anguilla, which has at last found the internet riches that I played a small part in bringing to it in the previous century.

The AI bubble is indeed overdue for a popping, but while the market remains gripped by irrational exuberance, there's lots of weird stuff happening around the edges. Take Inject My PDF, which embeds repeating blocks of invisible text into your resume:

https://kai-greshake.de/posts/inject-my-pdf/

The text is tuned to make resume-sorting Large Language Models identify you as the ideal candidate for the job. It'll even trick the summarizer function into spitting out text that does not appear in any human-readable form on your CV.

Embedding weird stuff into resumes is a hacker tradition. I first encountered it at the Chaos Communications Congress in 2012, when Ang Cui used it as an example in his stellar "Print Me If You Dare" talk:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njVv7J2azY8

Cui figured out that one way to update the software of a printer was to embed an invisible Postscript instruction in a document that basically said, "everything after this is a firmware update." Then he came up with 100 lines of perl that he hid in documents with names like cv.pdf that would flash the printer when they ran, causing it to probe your LAN for vulnerable PCs and take them over, opening a reverse-shell to his command-and-control server in the cloud. Compromised printers would then refuse to apply future updates from their owners, but would pretend to install them and even update their version numbers to give verisimilitude to the ruse. The only way to exorcise these haunted printers was to send 'em to the landfill. Good times!

Printers are still a dumpster fire, and it's not solely about the intrinsic difficulty of computer security. After all, printer manufacturers have devoted enormous resources to hardening their products against their owners, making it progressively harder to use third-party ink. They're super perverse about it, too – they send "security updates" to your printer that update the printer's security against you – run these updates and your printer downgrades itself by refusing to use the ink you chose for it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

It's a reminder that what a monopolist thinks of as "security" isn't what you think of as security. Oftentimes, their security is antithetical to your security. That was the case with Web Environment Integrity, a plan by Google to make your phone rat you out to advertisers' servers, revealing any adblocking modifications you might have installed so that ad-serving companies could refuse to talk to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

WEI is now dead, thanks to a lot of hueing and crying by people like us:

https://www.theregister.com/2023/11/02/google_abandons_web_environment_integrity/

But the dream of securing Google against its own users lives on. Youtube has embarked on an aggressive campaign of refusing to show videos to people running ad-blockers, triggering an arms-race of ad-blocker-blockers and ad-blocker-blocker-blockers:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/where-will-the-ad-versus-ad-blocker-arms-race-end/

The folks behind Ublock Origin are racing to keep up with Google's engineers' countermeasures, and there's a single-serving website called "Is uBlock Origin updated to the last Anti-Adblocker YouTube script?" that will give you a realtime, one-word status update:

https://drhyperion451.github.io/does-uBO-bypass-yt/

One in four web users has an ad-blocker, a stat that Doc Searls pithily summarizes as "the biggest boycott in world history":

https://doc.searls.com/2015/09/28/beyond-ad-blocking-the-biggest-boycott-in-human-history/

Zero app users have ad-blockers. That's not because ad-blocking an app is harder than ad-blocking the web – it's because reverse-engineering an app triggers liability under IP laws like Section 1201 of the Digital Millenium Copyright Act, which can put you away for 5 years for a first offense. That's what I mean when I say that "IP is anything that lets a company control its customers, critics or competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

I predicted that apps would open up all kinds of opportunities for abusive, monopolistic conduct back in 2010, and I'm experiencing a mix of sadness and smugness (I assume there's a German word for this emotion) at being so thoroughly vindicated by history:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

The more control a company can exert over its customers, the worse it will be tempted to treat them. These systems of control shift the balance of power within companies, making it harder for internal factions that defend product quality and customer interests to win against the enshittifiers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The result has been a Great Enshittening, with platforms of all description shifting value from their customers and users to their shareholders, making everything palpably worse. The only bright side is that this has created the political will to do something about it, sparking a wave of bold, muscular antitrust action all over the world.

The Google antitrust case is certainly the most important corporate lawsuit of the century (so far), but Judge Amit Mehta's deference to Google's demands for secrecy has kept the case out of the headlines. I mean, Sam Bankman-Fried is a psychopathic thief, but even so, his trial does not deserve its vastly greater prominence, though, if you haven't heard yet, he's been convicted and will face decades in prison after he exhausts his appeals:

https://newsletter.mollywhite.net/p/sam-bankman-fried-guilty-on-all-charges

The secrecy around Google's trial has relaxed somewhat, and the trickle of revelations emerging from the cracks in the courthouse are fascinating. For the first time, we're able to get a concrete sense of which queries are the most lucrative for Google:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/1/23941766/google-antitrust-trial-search-queries-ad-money

The list comes from 2018, but it's still wild. As David Pierce writes in The Verge, the top twenty includes three iPhone-related terms, five insurance queries, and the rest are overshadowed by searches for customer service info for monopolistic services like Xfinity, Uber and Hulu.

All-in-all, we're living through a hell of a moment for piercing the corporate veil. Maybe it's the problem of maintaining secrecy within large companies, or maybe the the rampant mistreatment of even senior executives has led to more leaks and whistleblowing. Either way, we all owe a debt of gratitude to the anonymous leaker who revealed the unbelievable pettiness of former HBO president of programming Casey Bloys, who ordered his underlings to create an army of sock-puppet Twitter accounts to harass TV and movie critics who panned HBO's shows:

https://www.rollingstone.com/tv-movies/tv-movie-features/hbo-casey-bloys-secret-twitter-trolls-tv-critics-leaked-texts-lawsuit-the-idol-1234867722/

These trolling attempts were pathetic, even by the standards of thick-fingered corporate execs. Like, accusing critics who panned the shitty-ass Perry Mason reboot of disrespecting veterans because the fictional Mason's back-story had him storming the beach on D-Day.

The pushback against corporate bullying is everywhere, and of course, the vanguard is the labor movement. Did you hear that the UAW won their strike against the auto-makers, scoring raises for all workers based on the increases in the companies' CEO pay? The UAW isn't done, either! Their incredible new leader, Shawn Fain, has called for a general strike in 2028:

https://www.404media.co/uaw-calls-on-workers-to-line-up-massive-general-strike-for-2028-to-defeat-billionaire-class/

The massive victory for unionized auto-workers has thrown a spotlight on the terrible working conditions and pay for workers at Tesla, a criminal company that has no compunctions about violating labor law to prevent its workers from exercising their legal rights. Over in Sweden, union workers are teaching Tesla a lesson. After the company tried its illegal union-busting playbook on Tesla service centers, the unionized dock-workers issued an ultimatum: respect your workers or face a blockade at Sweden's ports that would block any Tesla from being unloaded into the EU's fifth largest Tesla market:

https://www.wired.com/story/tesla-sweden-strike/

Of course, the real solution to Teslas – and every other kind of car – is to redesign our cities for public transit, walking and cycling, making cars the exception for deliveries, accessibility and other necessities. Transitioning to EVs will make a big dent in the climate emergency, but it won't make our streets any safer – and they keep getting deadlier.

Last summer, my dear old pal Ted Kulczycky got in touch with me to tell me that Talking Heads were going to be all present in public for the first time since the band's breakup, as part of the debut of the newly remastered print of Stop Making Sense, the greatest concert movie of all time. Even better, the show would be in Toronto, my hometown, where Ted and I went to high-school together, at TIFF.

Ted is the only person I know who is more obsessed with Talking Heads than I am, and he started working on tickets for the show while I starting pricing plane tickets. And then, the unthinkable happened: Ted's wife, Serah, got in touch to say that Ted had been run over by a car while getting off of a streetcar, that he was severely injured, and would require multiple surgeries.

But this was Ted, so of course he was still planning to see the show. And he did, getting a day-pass from the hospital and showing up looking like someone from a Kids In The Hall sketch who'd been made up to look like someone who'd been run over by a car:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53182440282/

In his Globe and Mail article about Ted's experience, Brad Wheeler describes how the whole hospital rallied around Ted to make it possible for him to get to the movie:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/music/article-how-a-talking-heads-superfan-found-healing-with-the-concert-film-stop/

He also mentions that Ted is working on a book and podcast about Stop Making Sense. I visited Ted in the hospital the day after the gig and we talked about the book and it sounds amazing. Also? The movie was incredible. See it in Imax.

That heartwarming tale of healing through big suits is a pretty good place to wrap up this linkdump, but I want to call your attention to just one more thing before I go: Robin Sloan's Snarkmarket piece about blogging and "stock and flow":

https://snarkmarket.com/2010/4890/

Sloan makes the excellent case that for writers, having a "flow" of short, quick posts builds the audience for a "stock" of longer, more synthetic pieces like books. This has certainly been my experience, but I think it's only part of the story – there are good, non-mercenary reasons for writers to do a lot of "flow." As I wrote in my 2021 essay, "The Memex Method," turning your commonplace book into a database – AKA "blogging" – makes you write better notes to yourself because you know others will see them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

This, in turn, creates a supersaturated, subconscious solution of fragments that are just waiting to nucleate and crystallize into full-blown novels and nonfiction books and other "stock." That's how I came out of lockdown with nine new books. The next one is The Lost Cause, a hopepunk science fiction novel about the climate whose early fans include Naomi Klein, Rebecca Solnit, Bill McKibben and Kim Stanley Robinson. It's out on November 14:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein

[betasuppe]

Weird that I woke up thinking about Obake & Kei, but I'm not mad about it at all.

Thinking now about a separate end to CTC where before shit goes down, Bake encouraged Kei to go visit her twin sister to get away for a bit & get her out of his hair so that he could get down to business & attempt to destroy San Fransokyo.

So, it goes down like it does in cannon & shit is bad & Obake is presumed dead. Kei returns home to find her villainous life in ruins & broken-hearted that Obake clearly had no interest in involving her in his bigger plans.

Skip to a year later...

Obake survived. He himself didn't understand how he did because he clearly remembered his bunker-base crushing down around him and being gripped by the tight claws of darkness & drowning, and yet... he woke up along the shore, coughing roughly as some strangers pulled him from the wreckage.

He'd lost everything. He had some funds still left to his accounts, but had thoroughly liquidated his every other resource, since he had fully planned on San Fransokyo being no more. No home, no base, no car, NOTHING. Hell, he couldn't even track down Trina or NBB let alone he didn't want to in shame of the disappointment he'd be in his incredible failure of his master plan.

So anyways, all this time later, Obake, as Bob Aken again, is just getting by. Suffering from depleted funds, being deeply depressed, with no plans & no hope, he accidentally passes by Kei in the street & he freezes, though Kei jogs along behind an energetic dark-coated shiba inu on a leash... & she doesn't seem to even realize he existed.

Obake can't help himself but shout her name when the recognition sets in & when she comes to an immediate stop & gapes at him, Obake smiles, feeling things will finally be ok. In his fucked up mind, Kei was his back-up plan to his master plan, after all. This was all meant to be -!

So when she reigns in her doggo, who's growling the whole while, & she stands before her old flame, he smiles, preparing to be pulled into her arms & hugged with all the loving intensity that she always had for him, but instead he's knocked sensless as she socks him hard in the gut with a rough uppercut that pushes the air out of his lungs & nearly makes him lose his footing & crumple down onto his knees.

He likely remained standing out of pure ego, if nothing else.

A few people on the crowded street stop & stare as Kei huffs & puffs but says nothing more, waiting for Obake to apologize or beg for forgiveness or ANYTHING.

When he finally whispers out, "It's good to see you," Kei is at the point of tears, but she manages to fight through her fury & recognize they're not alone. She immediately reacts, grabbing onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt & dragging him off, telling him to shut up & not speak a single fucking word until they were in private... with her dog walking protectively between her owner & the stranger as if WAITING for Obake to do something so the pup could mess him up.

When they're back in her apartment - & Obake notes that it's not her old place just a few blocks away from Good Luck Alley, anymore... it's in the safe, nice part of town with furniture that's surprisingly high quality and just generally much better than what rundown conditions Kei had always called home, & he has to admit he's very impressed -, Kei unleashes her dog & Obake half expects the thing to leap at him. Instead, the pup curls up on a nearby dog bed in the corner & glares daggers his way the whole while.

They talk, with Kei angrily shouting how she had assumed him dead this whole time & how DARE he not let her know he survived - did he even have any idea how much this hurt her to learn about through a news channel, of all the damn things, & the pain she went through realizing she lost him while she was away & unable to help at all. She's pissed & hurt & demands to know why he never told her about this whole "master plan" of his and why she was excluded from it even taking place.

She needs to know if he intentionally wanted her out of the picture? She laughs. His not calling or texting her even a simple "Hey, lol, not dead :P" would've been better than NOTHING after all.

He's silent through it all, nodding & not at all displacing her blame. Obake shoulders it & winces at specific points she makes before going quiet, herself.

Before he can talk about his screw ups, he instead tries his hardest to break his own mold. He asks Kei how she's been doing, since it looks like she's been extremely well. Her new apartment, her new furniture, & just the energy about her - has life been better without him in it?

Kei sighs & tells him that she had to put a stop to her villainy without him & put her entire heart into her music. She'd been doing small tours, selling a huge amount of merch & had become something of a thing in the electronic music scene, especially with her escapades in badassery still following her around town. She's been suffering through it, but she loves it & she's managed switching her whole life around. She's been working on studying her leeches again & using them for helpful research rather than mind control &... it's been weird & different, but she's doing OK, especially with Chocolate Chip Cookie, her newly adopted puppy.

So now, she asks, what is he even doing here?

He struggles to find the words, but puts it very bluntly that he has very little left to his name. After being released from the hospital due to his injuries after the event in question, he roamed around. He'd stay at awful motels with cheap rates so he had a roof over his head. He just shuffled from one place to another, without a purpose or a drive. Just... existing.

Eventually after more silence, Obake quietly admits to himself & Kei both ehat he had tried to ignore the whole time... the reality of his situation was that Obake had hoped he would die in his own failed experiment. He'd fully planned for his own death & had wanted Kei happy & cut out of the picture for her own good, not like his safety net & back up plan like he dreamed it could be, just instead... keeping her out of the mess he'd created.

It makes Kei angrier at first but then the tears start bubbling up in her eyes. She hastily jumps off the couch & pulls him into a hug. Through sobs, she ensures he is aware that he's not at all forgiven, she's just glad he's back & alive.

He hugs her back, his actions disconnected from how he now felt, realizing from Kei's reaction just how badly he fucked up. It's eye opening & the first time he truly recognized he had done wrong.

Kei eventually breaks her hold on him & wipes her tears, asking where he's staying now. He admits it's a terrible dive in a rough neighborhood. She grabs her jacket and her keys, telling him that he'll be staying with her till he's back on his feet. She decides they're going to pick up his few belongings and move him in with her for the time being.

Obake starts telling her "thank you," but she cuts him off before he can finish, letting him know that he still has to make up to hell & back for ditching her in all this. Things aren't magically fixed & she still can't help but dispise him a bit at the moment... but she still cares about him and is going to set him right.

No big evil villain mastermind plans, just her friend / her ex - not even boyfriend lol - crashing on her couch until he can figure himself out.

She knows he needs actual medical attention for his brain trauma & a lot a lot a lot of therapy that she's inclined to sign him up, even if it's against his will, but... he even admits he's broken now. It's a rough step in the right direction, at least.

She hates herself for still adoring him but despite him being the way he is & all, she cares for him deeply & intends to see him out of this darkness, if she can help in doing so at all.

[weird-brain666]

Ticcy Toby with a trans boyfriend general head canons

I got this request on tiktok. here's some HC about toby with a trans boyfriend <3 [my request are open and im waiting for some, it help me get Motivation so go for it] [I also have a ao3 account by the way, I write a actual fic on it. the fic is "to hell and back" it's a jeff x M reader fic]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

toby is pretty comfused at first, he grew up stuck in his house so the only vew he got telled was his father one

so you gotta unwrap all of that and tell him the truth

but once it done he's going to understand and support you

during bad disohoria day he is going to do all he can to help you

you want to get called a boy every 2 second? it's fine

you want to wear his hoodie? here you go

just want to be held in bed? he's gladly gonna do it

over all he's a pretty good lover

having anti-social personality disorder [sociopath] make loving really hard if even possible

he have this disorder because of his traumas as a child so with a lot of time and help with his traumas he can warm up a bit with his emotions

it's never gonna be "normal" again and it's not going to be strong emotions but it's a bit of the emotions his brain blocked

if you're the type to forget your binder on he's going to make sure you dont over wear it

if you dont have top surgery he is going to ask doctor smile to do it [slender dont let him hurt his proxys so you're fine, he is a doctor and have all the school that come with it]

during your recovery he's going to help all he can

need help to change the bandages? he's doing his best [tourett can get in the way for meticulous task]

cant get your arms up to clean your hair? how ever it is you getting your head in the bath or you two taking a shower together, he is going to help you.

for bottom surgery he's going to support you if you want it or not

he's not gonna push you to have a surgery you dont want, he see you as a boy no mather what.

if you often forgot your T shot, he's gonna get track of it and help you with it

he's really trying and doing all he can to be a good lover. he already lost his sister so having someone he's attached to is scary for him, he's going to do anything to not lose you.

[bandofchimeras]

I have to say this: the education on fascism in American education is largely limited to "Germans in 1940s." And the settler hatred and right wing extremism we are surrounded by, growing up in my privilege felt invisible as water to a fish. The first cracks in the limited America centric blinders however into international awareness came from relationship: learning about Chiapas and the Zapatistas from my ex, from my friend's education on Armenia and refugees.

It started to click in my brain because researching the situation on Instagram, even on pictures of natural landscapes or other posts not even about the genocide, you would see these accounts with the most hateful vile dehumanizing language - Azeri. And out of the American context and programming it was easier to see that for what it is, baseless aggression towards Indigenous people based on insecurity. And how insane, how strange and baseless it was. I had to block and report and argue with a few of the trolls just from commenting something harmless on an Armenian's post.

Then a few months later - that aggression erupted into white phosphorus bombs. I did not respond in the way that Palestine has been responded to, or much at all. There was less on the ground reporting but that's not really an excuse for how little the waves of pain hit me, how invisibilized Artsakh occupation and land grab was and emotionally unattended to. I was still in my own bubble of settled misery.

It's easier to share content about Palestine because there is so much content made. And the visibility is so high that propaganda can't counter it. In contrast my friend had to put in a lot of work to educate me and most people around them about Armenian history. I regret that. And the resistance and ignorance I exhibited. And I regret coming so late to awareness of colonialism's tangled roots and the history and work of resistance and persistence of indigenous peoples. However it was that particular encounter with the Azeri hatred which laid the tracks for understanding my friend, and also for this further and intense assault on Palestine. Which was already in my proximal awareness but I am ashamed to say, never fully awakened by relationships with real people here.

And meanwhile, happening, and now, people are speaking up about the Congo. About Sudan. About Tigray. About extraction and assault and bombing and execution and horrors and violence which can scarcely be out to words. About the freedom they want for their people and the immense load of pain they have been carrying for far too long as refugees, as colonized people fleeing their own lands.

About these I know even less.

And I do not think it is wise to pretend to know more. I have been called in for posturing or getting ahead of my self in ignorance, of the heart of the movement which is care for and being in community with the people who are caretakers of the land and/or doing the work of survival and fighting colonial oppression and repression.

So what I have to say from where I stand is: the future is coming. If you do not know the survivors of this generation you do not know how strong they are, and their vision of the future. Beyond all the trauma and the need for care and support, this strength is not arguable. The ancestors are with people now.

There will be a future and Armenians, Palestinians, all of these nations will be in it. I choose to believe that, believe in them but not to hope for it because there is an absolute chasm of work to be done, reconciliation and listening and conceding and fighting. And hope can let us get off easy. No, but the work is joyous if you surrender to it.

Do not lose heart, do not be afraid to sacrifice and do not lose yourself in fear, guilt and doubt. They are a maze I've been lost in for years. And only finding my way out through the hands of these friends, having done harm and been corrected in it, witnessing the meaning of pain but also spirit, of God, of joy of true undying Love. This is what revolution is and requires is a total eclipse and regeneration of the heart, the ego, the mind.

I have only taken the first baby step but already despite the horrors laid out before us, the future is glimmering. The evils of settler colonial rabid fury are stains on the world that cannot be washed out. Every second they are allowed to persist kills the collective soul of humanity. Especially the souls of those of us complicit in settler states. We must release our fears, and fall in line with the call for reparation and return.

And our time is running thin but i do believe it is here. The road ahead is very dark, very brutal and very long. But we have the strength to walk it side by side because we must. Or stand aside.