#if you read this. yes you. i’m bored dm me

[sqlinakyle]

[sp25]

in the trunk

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

summary: you do it in the trunk with your lieutenant, Ghost

warnings: 18+ this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy or use ai on my shit, i'll find out. consists of kissing, sex (m&f), name calling, slight breeding kink, cumming inside, cursing. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

a/n: another one. yes. took me a lot of time. please comment and reblog. It really encourages me to write more smut for yall. Please! I’m desperate ;( also inspired by another character ai response. This time it was a character called “Ghost” by @Faunnaa. Please go and support them too. (also please dm me, im bored)

You had been a part of the Task Force 141 for about 2 years now. You had developed a pretty close bond with your comrades. But, you always had your eye on one specific person, Ghost. To an outsider, he might seem like a ruthless, heartless, unemotional person but, you understood and related to him. You felt his pain when no one else did.

You worked with Ghost but, you didn’t have a close relationship to him like Soap did. You always dreamt to be with him though it seemed like those dreams would stay dreams forever.

Until, Task Force 141 was sent on a mission hours away, the military trucks loaded with soldiers. The mission was smooth, until one of your men made the wrong move and jeopardized the whole operation, forcing you to flee almost immediately.

Everyone was running to the trucks and you just so happened to be one of the last along with Ghost. No actual seats were left, so you had to resort to the trunk. “Bloody hell..” He cursed, Before jumping in and pulling you onto his lap to reserve space.

You were shocked. You hadn’t excepted this. You couldn’t believe what Ghost just did. You had no say. But you knew better than arguing or going against him so, you stayed quiet while you sat in his lap.

Soon, you started feeling congested. To get more comfort, you started changing your position. “fucking hell..” Ghost groaned under his breath. He held onto your hips and forced you to stay still on his lap with your head on his chest.

Ghost didn’t say a word. He was pissed off and annoyed at the whole situation of the mission being cancelled. He didn’t like being in a position of weakness. But he also couldn’t deny the fact you were on his lap. He knew you hadn’t had the best day either so he kept quiet. You felt his chest move slowly, as he breathed.

But, the day wasn’t so good for you either. Your closet friend, Sam and more had gotten injured and killed during the failed mission. You were heartbroken. But, seemingly, Ghost’s warmth and hold seemed to comfort you. You needed more now.

“ghost? could you please hold me?” You sniffled, hoping he would accept. You knew that your lieutenant would make fun of you. You waited for your embarrassment to come.

Ghost wasn’t one for displays of affection at all. But he saw you were sad. He wasn’t that much of a dick to blow you off this time. You felt him move his body slightly to face you whilst holding you. He put a hand on the bottom of your chin and lifted you up. Your eyes met, the moonlight pouring in from the cracks of the trunk illuminated him.

You looked up at him with your glossy teary eyes into his cold emotionless ones. “Come on, get it together.” He said bluntly, in his trademark gravelly accent. “A soldier doesn’t fall apart just because of a cancelled mission.” He had the same stone face he always wore. But there was a subtle softness behind his cold demeanor, he cared.

You could feel his cold heart’s walls slowly crumbling. So you decided to take advantage of it. “I feel so scared..” you whispered under your breath. You couldn’t control your emotions anymore.

“Don’t worry, I’m here..” He mumbled, sounding slightly warmer than usual. He pulled your head onto his chest, where he continued to caress your cheek.

His touch seemed to send waves of goosebumps to your skin. You could feel your heart racing. “I don’t want to be alone today..” you softly said, hiding your face in his chest.

Ghost’s gaze shifted downwards, the sound of your breath was soothing. He couldn’t deny how pretty you looked in this position. In the back of his mind he knew that this was wrong, as a soldier he shouldn’t be getting distracted by something like this. But he also couldn’t help but feel the heat of your skin against his own.

“Shh, you’re not alone now..” He muttered, pulling himself closer in the cramped space. You felt his arm wrap around your lower back, pulling you into his embrace. His touch was tender, which was a side to him you hadn’t seen before. In all honesty, the whole situation was sweet. A comforting presence in a place where you felt vulnerable, all the whilst you were held by someone so attractive.

“No one else can see us right?” You whispered carefully. You knew that if anyone saw you both, in this position, it would destroy both of your careers.

“Nope.. unless somebody can open this damn trunk..” He sighed. “Even then, what are they gonna do? Tell on us to our Lieutenant?” He chuckled with a slight smirk. This was his ‘flirty’ side, he was testing the waters.

For the first time after a while, you smiled. “you ain’t wrong there.” You laughed softly as you said that, which made Ghost smile too. Gosh, his smile sent your fucking heart dead. You just couldn’t believe that he smiled.

“I feel like I should kiss you..” That was a little too forward. He realised that the moment the words slipped out of his lips. You felt the heat rise and your heart racing, but for some reason you actually wanted him to do it. A tiny smile played on your lips.

You had never imagined that your dreams would become a reality. You knew you had achieved what you desired. You softly nodded your head, unable to form a response cause how much you were blushing.

“That’s all the yes I need..” He softly said before leaning towards you and pressing his lips on yours. It was everything you could have imagined and more. The feeling of his strong hands, his body against yours, and his kiss sent you into a trance. His scent was intoxicating, along with the feeling of his rough tongue against yours. His hand ran through your hair, as he held you close. This was your dream come into reality.

You both were meant for each other. You held onto his armour as the kiss became more heated. His kiss made your already desperate pussy more wet. You moaned softly.

You broke the kiss and glanced at him, your gaze locked with his. You felt as if you were still in a trance, he had swept you off your feet. “You want me now..?” He whispered, a smirk played on his lips. You were speechless. This was like a movie scene, in a good way. A good soldier, a sexy, charismatic man, and a mission gone bad. Couldn’t get better really.

“Yes.” You whispered with such surety. You were never ever going back to being away from Ghost ever again.

“This is a bad idea..” He mumbled, but he also knew it was too late now. He pulled you in for another kiss. This time it was much more intense and you could practically see the sparks between you.

He picked you up, and shifted you around in the trunk in order to find a more comfortable position. You didn’t even care how tight it was by this point. He sat you on his lap, and moved himself so he had his back against one wall, and his legs against the other. He then pulled you close again, and kept kissing you.

He smirked and pulled you closer in his arms. The tension had built up throughout the day, but now those feelings had resurfaced once more. His hand gently brushed your cheek, and ran through your hair. He was a little rough, but it was what you liked.

You could feel his bulge against your thighs. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. “going to let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours solider?” He whispered smirking.

“yes sir..” you responded blushing. Ghost pulled away from the kiss briefly. “Are you sure? We’re in a.. trunk.” He mumbled, not even sure himself what he was saying. You just nodded your head unable to form words.

“Such a good girl for me”, He smirked as he unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard throbbing cock making it hit his abdomen.

You in amazement, put your hand on it and started stroking it as his precum got over your hands. You could feel how hard it is and how it twitched in your hands. You realised he needed you as much as you needed him.

“take it off.” He ordered. You know exactly what he meant. You pulled down your tight leggings revealing your lacy black lingerie underneath.

“fuck..” he muttered under his breath. He pressed his fingers over your wet panties. “so wet for me love..”, he softly pushed aside your panties so he could have access to your needy cunt.

“Alright..” His hand traveled down your body and caressed your thigh. He kissed your neck and then gently nibbled your earlobe. He felt your breathing speed up, and took it as a sign that you were enjoying what he was doing. He continued to kiss your neck gently, nibbling softly with his lips, and then your chin. A soft moan left your lips, and he smirked.

He held onto your hips tightly that you were sure that it would leave bruises. He moved you so that you were right on top his cock.

He slowly pulled you down on his hard cock. You moaned softly feeling his cock stretching you out so blissfully. You could feel how thick his girth was.

He kept pulling you down in his cock until he was all in while he kept muttering curse words cause how tight and wet your pussy wet for him.

He started kissing you passionately and aggressively as he started thrusting into you but ensuring that his cock went fully inside each time making you moan.

“so fucking tight for me..” He groaned into your ears as his thrusts seemed to get more aggressive and faster. But, your moans seemed to get louder so he pressed his hand tightly against your mouth. “shh..” he whispered in your ears as his cock went so deep and hard into you.

You were going dumb cause how good it felt. His cock was hitting the right spots each time. He spanked your ass couple of time before he started playing with your clit too now.

You were a mess. Your mind was clouded with thoughts about him only. He kept muttering and whispering sweet nothing in your ears, while he kept his hand pressed against your mouth.

But, suddenly you felt his slams into your hips become harder, you knew he was about to cum. “gonna let me cum in your wet fertile cunt for me? yeah love?”, you nodded your head unable to form words.

“cum for me love, cum.” You immediately felt yourself cum as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. You could felt the hot thick spurts of his cum fill your womb. He kept thrusting in you softly as you both rode out your high.

He laughed softly and smiled. So did you. His eyes had a hint of lust still present in them. Round 2 was just about to begin.

The rest of the ride was filled with soft laughter and heavy breathing. After it was done, Ghost looked at you affectionately. “Well.. that was something.” He chuckled.

He slowly pulled out of you and you could see him cum leaking out your pussy. Ghost watched it with fascination as he softly pressed his fingers on your leaking hole and whispered in your ears, “can’t let a drop go to waste..”

You smiled softly and whispered, “I can’t believe we fucked in a trunk.”

“And nobody will ever find out. We really have to keep this a secret. We’re in the same unit, that would be bad..” He whispered, he wanted to be with you. The mission meant nothing now, in his mind he had already decided he wanted you. In his head, he knew the chances were small, but he was going to make his move now, and see how you reacted.

“I know..” you whispered. “You don’t look upset about it..” He smirked, the moonlight still pouring in to illuminate his gorgeous face. He tilted his head up slightly, studying you with a smirk. He could see your cheeks were red, and your hair was slightly disheveled. Even if you looked like a mess, you looked adorable to him.

“What can I do, I can’t seem to stay away from you..” you smiled blushing. This was the answer he had been waiting for. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Really?” He chuckled nervously. The answer was obvious but he wanted to hear you actually say it. You were a good girl and he was a bad boy, and he knew that. He felt guilty by doing this to you but it was too late, he couldn’t deny himself what he wanted.

Before you could respond, the truck came to a halt and you heard the engine turn off. Then the sound of multiple boots hitting the floorboard was heard. “Everyone out! We’re back at base..” one of your fellow soldiers yelled. You and Ghost both looked at each other awkwardly. You had spent the past few hours making love (more like fucking like rabbits), now you were being greeted with the outside world again.

The truck had reached its destination, base camp. You felt sad. Reality hit you like a literal truck. “well this was fun..” you whispered trying for sound not sad, you opened the trunk.

“Mhmm.” Was all he was able to reply with. He was deep in thought. His heart was saying to ask you out, but his mind knew it wasn’t the right time. “Right.. Uhm I should go and debrief with the others. I’ll see you around okay.” He got up and took a step outside the truck.

“okay.” You muttered as you admired him. You didn’t know when you would get the chance tone this close to him again so you kept looking at him, memorising his face.

You softly got out of the trunk and stood on the ground. You felt so sore and it was tough for you to walk. You could feel his cum still inside of you.

You heard the click of the truck trunk closing and then you were alone. Slowly, you dusted off your uniform. You wanted to be angry with him, but deep down you secretly enjoyed the afternoon. You were just starting to get over him when you spotted him. Ghost was walking over to his tent, he noticed you looking at him. He shot you a wink, and then disappeared. You sighed and made your way back to your tent.

[fangweaver2099]

𝐅 𝐀 𝐖 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 - Prologue pt 1

MINORS DNI 18+ FIC

You’ve always liked the idea of having a dominant partner - BDSM was something you’ve read about, watched videos about.

Something you made Pinterest boards and aesthetic tumblr posts about when you were 18 and curious, the idea always sounded nice, but you’ve never done it in practice, not really. Sure you bought fuzzy handcuffs at a gag gift store once, but that didn’t really count.

You’re still a virgin.

You’ve always had that chronically awkward, workaholic type of vibe that made typical dating near impossible at worst and frustrating at best. Normal dating apps have proven fruitless and agitating. So poor curious little you talked yourself into making a fetlife account. You weren’t looking for true love, but at least you could get laid.

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.”

College was for new experiences after all.

CW: BDSM heavy/centric fic. Safe, Sane & Consensual. Miguel is your professor, but you both don't know that. Age Gap (Y/N is 23, Miguel is mid 30's)

PART 2

DM Request from: 10:13 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Hello, Fawn.” 

You squint at the request - you can see his icon is his torso.

You knew you had to snoop - be careful. The classic teen girl not wanting to be abducted shit. His skin was tanned - pale palms and even skintone told you he wasn’t a white guy. NYC was a melting pot - so you weren’t about to think too hard about it. You scroll through his writings. Most were boring and formal. You debate reading over the ‘contract template’ he had posted but decide against it.

His pictures are, mostly, not entirely him. A few torso shots showing off dark hair and abs - or more casual showing off a normal looking body of a dude who clearly worked out. The others are a few different women in different states of undress smothered in bondage ropes, always a bright red. The one that intrigues you the most again has the face censored by a black bar, but she’s hung upside down against the wall, diamonds of rope on her thighs as she’s suspended before red rope that was weaved into a massive spider web. He was a fan of spiders - the user name made sense.

The photos were old, from 2016 at the newest. The photos of him were new - posted just 6 months ago.

His wall was what told a touch of his story. You scroll down dozens of posts, women and men acting friendly or asking to meet up again. You wonder if he used to be a community person, the anon nature of his account was new? Could you check on the wayback machine? 

You tab back into his chat.

“hey. are you really 6’9? ” - Fawnteeth - 10:19 PM

 10:19 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You think I’d lie about that?”  

“maybe. I know a lot of guys who lie about their height, I’m tall enough to tell.” - Fawnteeth - 10:20 PM

 10:20 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Smart to ask. Yes, I am really 6’9”. Is height a big seller for you?”  

“when you’re a tall woman, it is.” - Fawnteeth - 10:20 PM

 10:21 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “You want me to make you feel small. Noted.”

“what had you messaging me? you seem popular.” - Fawnteeth - 10:21 PM

 10:22 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “I’ve been in the scene for a long time, made my way around. Your interests line up and you seem at least somewhat concerned about your own anonymity.”  

“here I thought you’d say you found me pretty.” - Fawnteeth - 10:22 PM

 10:22 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Shallow compliments hardly get us anywhere. Besides, that’s a given.”  

“well, thank you anyway. need to keep this and my personal life separate, like you I see.” - Fawnteeth - 10:23 PM

 10:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ “We all have our secrets and reasons to keep them.”  

“serial killer sorta secrets?” - Fawnteeth - 10:24 PM

“I’m kidding.” - Fawnteeth - 10:24 PM

 10:24 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Would you believe me if I said no?”  

“I can try. it’s not like you’re a blank profile, web.” - Fawnteeth - 10:25 PM

 10:26 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Maybe you shouldn’t. Things like that are easy to fake. You’re clearly trying to keep a secret, which means if I met up with you no one would know where you went. Would be a good tactic if  I was preying on little girls.”

You stare at his message for a moment, forcing in a quick breath you sit up as your bed creaks. Okay, time to take things a bit more seriously.

“Good thing I’m not a little girl. I do appreciate the concern, it’s attractive.” - Fawnteeth - 10:27 PM

 10:27 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Lot’s of untrustworthy people on sites like this. Ones that will lull you into a sense of security.”  

“Trust me, I’m well aware. You think I should be afraid of you?” - Fawnteeth - 10:27 PM

 10:28 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Yes. You can’t trust me right away.”

“Well, I like the honesty. I don’t think I have any plans to meet up with anyone soon - not even you.” - Fawnteeth - 10:30 PM

 10:30 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Of course you don’t. You’re new at this.”

“Did I really give it away that quickly?” - Fawnteeth - 10:31 PM

 10:31 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Yes.”

You stare at the screen for a long moment, eyes wide. How the hell do you reply to that? Is he ending the conversation? Did you already fuck things up? At this point, most men would be falling over themselves to impress you, not making you feel intimidated . You feel your core throb as you click back to his profile, scrolling over dozens of comments on his wall from years ago - the fact is, his profile spans back years. Longer. He’s experienced, and… he isn’t wrong, either. 

“Is that a problem? I hope it isn’t. You’re the first dude who hasn’t asked me for nudes yet.” - Fawnteeth - 10:32 PM

 10:34 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “No. You should be more careful though, me explaining that and this is something you should be suspicious of. Wanting to ‘protect’ you because you’re young and need to be taught the ropes, so to speak.”  

“Got it, Sir.” - Fawnteeth - 10:34 PM

“Wait, can I call you that?” - Fawnteeth - 10:34 PM

You cringe, placing the laptop on the bed for a moment. Shit - you’ve already messed up.

 10:35 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “That’s acceptable. If you ever call me ‘Daddy’ however I will block you.”  

 10:35 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “That’s not a joke.” 

You open your eyes, glancing over at the chat and his two messages. Raising a brow, you lean in, shifting the laptop back into your lap. 

“Understood. Not my thing.” - Fawnteeth - 10:35 PM

 10:36 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “What is your thing, Fawn?”

“Well… I like giving up control… Feeling like prey. I’ve always loved deer, something about being so fiercely defenseless as a fawn in a wolf’s maw is thrilling.” - Fawnteeth - 10:37 PM

 10:37 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “No wonder you brushed over the red flags.”

“Maybe.The whole giving up control is why most submissives are here, aren’t they?” - Fawnteeth  - 10:38 PM

 10:40 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “The illusion of giving up control. Any good dominant knows the submissive is the one with the power. Safe words, limits, contracts - it all relies on knowing they can end things whenever they want to explore it safely.”  

“Of course.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:40 PM

 10:40 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Of course? So you have those things ready for me?”  

“ Safe words and how I prefer them - yes. Limits, I think so. Contract - no. ” - Fawnteeth  - 10:40 PM

 10:42PM - WebRigger2099 -   “I need one for slow down/ease up and one for an immediate stop. I also need a physical sign if you are unable to say your safe words. Please list them.”  

 10:43 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “Send me 4 lists: Favorites, Yes, Maybe, and No not ever. Include everything you can think of. If you do not include something that I am interested in I will ask about it and we will consider it a maybe until you’ve had time to consider it and possibly research.”

 10:43 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “You will not need a premade contract. I have a basic format we can edit to our needs. If it goes that far.”  

“Is the green, yellow, red method good with you?” - Fawnteeth  - 10:44 PM

 10:44 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Yes.”

“That’s good.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:44 PM

“...And I'll get you the other things - do you have any hard nos I should know of?” - Fawnteeth  - 10:44 PM

10:45 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Send me yours and we’ll go from there.”  

“Okay.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:45 PM

You take your time in a Google document, carefully considering your late-night Archive Of Our Own feed. Anxiety tells you to rush, but you get the energy that Web isn’t the kind of guy who wants you to rush.

“ Will you click links? Google Docs. ” - Fawnteeth  - 10:55 PM

 10:55 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ I applaud you if you somehow hack me from a google docs link. I have a very good firewall as a warning. ” 

You couldn’t help but grin at his reply - you’re charmed by him. Oh no.

“I’d figure as much. Here.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:57 PM

“ [Google Docs Link] “ - Fawnteeth  - 10:57 PM

 10:57 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “I’ll ask specifics soon but I want to be clear about this - I want something in person, but that is not on the table until the end of the summer. I have obligations. If that is a problem I don’t want to waste your time.” 

“That’s fine. I know we’re both in NYC. I’m kinda glad as I don’t think I’m ready to meet up soon anyway.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:57 PM

 10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Gives us time to get to know each other and learn expectations.

“Then it sounds like we’re on the same page.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:58 PM

 10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Good. Due to this being a distance-based arrangement for the time being I cannot touch you myself; Have you heard of a lovense?”

“I have. Aren’t those expensive?”   - Fawnteeth  - 10:58 PM

 10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Money isn’t a concern for me, and anything I get you is a gift. The only expectation is to use whatever I provide. Acceptable?”

“Yes. I don’t take pictures or videos with my face in them.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:58 PM

 10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I noticed.”

 10:58 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Neither do I. That isn’t a problem.” 

“Glad to hear that.” -   Fawnteeth  - 10:59 PM

“...So…”   - Fawnteeth  - 10:59 PM

 10:59 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “Your list says nothing about exhibitionism. If I were to tell you to wear your lovense during the day would that be acceptable?”

For a moment you stare at his message. Now that you’re not under your father’s roof, you have free reign to do whatever, and it’s honestly not like your roommates haven’t done weirder, less appropriate shit in far more public spaces. 

“That’s fine as long as I’m not visiting family. I live somewhere else.” - Fawnteeth  - 10:59 PM

 10:59 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ You say you like roleplay. Are there specific scenarios you’re interested in?”

“Do you know what dead by daylight is?” -  Fawnteeth  - 10:59 PM

 11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “I can’t say I do.”

“...Well. I wasn’t joking about the idea of enjoying being hunted. I guess. Kinda embarrassing to admit to a stranger.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:00 PM

 11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “Does that embarrassment excite you, Fawn?”

“Maybe.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:00 PM

 11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “I expect yes or no answers. If you’re not sure say so.”

“Yes, then.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:00 PM

 11:00 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Good girl. What do you want me to do when I catch you?”

There’s no hesitation, no doubt in the message. What do you want when I catch you. Not would you want, not if I caught you. When. You can’t help but squirm. For a moment, you consider pacing your tiny, cluttered bedroom.

“Is whatever you want the wrong answer?”   - Fawnteeth  - 11:01 PM

“I might be new, but I think I’m kinda open. I want to please, I suppose.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:01 PM

 11:01 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ Not at all a wrong answer.”

 11:02 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Have you ever been spanked before? You said it was a favorite.”

“Yes.” - Fawnteeth - 11:02 PM

You bite your lip - it technically isn’t a lie. You have been spanked - just… not sexually. It’s fine .

 11:02 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Would you be willing to use a paddle, crop or belt in my absence if I believe you need punishment?”

“I’m not sure. I have a very high pain tolerance, but I don’t live alone, sound is a concern.”   - Fawnteeth - 11:02 PM

 11:03 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Not a problem. Making a small list for a care package if you show me potential is all.” 

“Well, what can I do to impress you, Sir?”  - Fawnteeth  - 11:03 PM

“I don’t mind homework, for lack of a better word.”   - Fawnteeth  - 11:03 PM

 11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Eager, aren’t you? I’m not done.”

 11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Dirty talking. What are your limits, and do you have a specific pet name you want me to use?”

“I like Fawn, obviously. Affectionate things, I think it’s better figuring it out organically. Feels more genuine.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:04 PM

 11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “And no humiliation.”

 11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ Understood.”

 11:04 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “I have rules. It’s better that I tell you about them early. They’ve scared most people off.”

“ Well. I won’t pass judgment immediately.” - Fawnteeth - 11:05 PM

“I don’t cut my hair.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:05 PM

 11:05 PM - WebRigger2099 -   “I would be disappointed if you did. Speaking of, I only allow my submissive to trim their pubic hair for one, no shaving it.” 

“That’s fine with me. I haven’t shaved anything in a while.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:05 PM

 11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ If you are going to be unavailable for more than a few hours I expect an explanation so I know you are safe. I don’t allow my partners to go to clubs or bars without me either. If this becomes serious I expect you to download a location tracking app so I know where you are at all times.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I don’t go out much.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:06 PM

 11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “I am not polyamorous. If you want to be mine you are only mine, and I will hold myself to the same standard.”

“That’s fine with me. I have been talking to someone else, but about as much as you at this point. Honesty and all that stuff.”   - Fawnteeth  - 11:06 PM

 11:06 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I don’t let things I own go into disrepair; You will take care of yourself and report what you don’t complete. Punishments will be given if you do not complete these tasks.”

 11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “The basic daily requirements are the following: Three meals a day, showering every day, an hour of exercise and a consistent bedtime during weekdays.”

“Okay. Did this really scare people off?” - Fawnteeth  - 11:07 PM

 11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 - “People have called me controlling. It sounds like you want to surrender your control though.” 

“Not wrong.” - Fawnteeth   - 11:07 PM

 11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ You’re not hard to read.”

“I’ll try and take it as a compliment.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:07 PM

 11:07 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “Deception and confusion are a waste of time. Own it.”  

“I’ll try my best. I’m used to being considered odd.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:08 PM

 11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Are you?”

“I’m on fetlife. So, yes.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:08 PM

 11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I suppose.”

 11:08 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ We already established you’re new to this. Will I be your first dominant?”

“Yes. Not my first partner.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:08 PM

 11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “ Were they not interested in this?”

“I never brought it up to them. I don’t really want romance right now.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:09 PM

 11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 -  “And if you fall for me?”

“I’d rather talk about it then, I suppose. I don’t get the vibe from you that you’re looking for romance, just a pet.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:09 PM

 11:09 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Good, and no, not right now.”

“But you think I’ll fall in love with you?” - Fawnteeth  - 11:09 PM

 11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “You’re young and inexperienced. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.” 

 11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ My last important rule - no drugs, limited alcohol. If you drink you must have friends with you that are reliable or myself. Drinking and doing drugs is just asking to put yourself in a vulnerable situation. It’s a precaution some have complained about.” 

With how much he spoke of other people not liking his rules it was almost like he was trying to talk you out of it.

“That’s fine. I celebrated my 21st by watching movies.”   - Fawnteeth  - 11:10 PM

 11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “What movies?”  

“Midsommar, it’s my favorite. Silence of the lambs too. Roomies insisted on watching Barbie after that. lol ” - Fawnteeth  - 11:10 PM

 11:10 PM - WebRigger2099 - “ You like horror.”

“Yes. I thought the ghostface poster in my 3rd photo gave it away.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:11 PM

 11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “And you’d like him or some other violent thing to chase you down and do whatever they wanted with you instead of killing you.”

 11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “It must make watching movies with a group tense if that’s what is going through your mind.” 

“I won’t say it doesn’t.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:11 PM

 11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “Let me guess: some part of you likes the discomfort?” 

“Honestly. I haven’t thought about it. Probably.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:11 PM

 11:11 PM - WebRigger2099 - “I think you’d like to walk around with a lovense in you, never knowing when I might turn it on or increase the settings. You enjoy suspense.”

“ It’s appealing, yeah.” - Fawnteeth  - 11:12 PM

You sit back on your bed, propping up the laptop with your pillows. Why did you love that this guy was reading you like an open book? You take in a deep breath, remember - play it cool.

 11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - “What do you want out of all of this?” 

“My first thought is sex - but also to learn myself a bit more, I guess. Explore something with a partner I can trust… Please someone, feel better about myself. Like I said - I’m a tall woman, it doesn’t exactly make you feel pretty.”  - Fawnteeth  - 11:12 PM

 11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - "Okay, sounds good."  

You bite your lip, reading over the message on your dimly lit phone screen over and over again. Curling up tighter into the cotton blanket on your bed, you exhale, the cheap mattress creaking underneath you. You flinch, eyes flickering towards the shut door of your bedroom. Your heart flutters in your chest for a few moments until silence rings in your ears. 

You haven’t woken up any of your roommates.Thank god. 

Sighing, you turn your attention back to your phone, looking over the message again.

 11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 - "Okay, sounds good." 

Usually men are more expressive in their text speech when it comes to you - to the extent that some even make you uncomfortable. But WebRigger2099… is very much not . You’ve dubbed him 'Web' in your head, easy enough with his username. 

Web is formal, speaks with proper punctuation and never a single spelling mistake or emote. He’s direct, not flowery or soft in any way. But… you kind of like that. Direct is easy. There’s no guessing games with instructions and meanings laid out plainly.

 11:12 PM - WebRigger2099 -“ You are very pretty, by the way. ” 

You blush.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[theartofcollapse]

Swipe Right for Sarcasm - Casey Novak

a/n: i'm taking requests, so feel free to dm me :) summary: Olivia convinces Casey to download Tinder and start dating. pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.9K

masterlist

Casey Novak wasn’t entirely sure why she had downloaded Tinder but she fully blamed Olivia Benson for it. “You need to get out there, Casey,” Olivia had said while sipping wine and looking entirely too smug about her stable relationship with a certain medical examiner.

So here Casey was. Scrolling through profiles of men holding fish. Swiping left on women with bios like “Live, Laugh, Love” and “Here for a good time, not a long time.” Just when she was about to delete the app entirely, she stopped on one profile.

Y/N, 30. Bio: I’m here for three things: sarcasm, snacks, and possibly to steal your dog. Let’s see how this goes.

Casey couldn’t stop herself. She swiped right.

A moment later, a notification popped up on her screen: It’s a match!

Casey: Well, this is awkward. Y/N: Is this where we start pretending we didn’t spend hours carefully choosing our photos? Casey: I don’t have that kind of time. Mine were picked in five minutes, maximum effort. Y/N: That explains the photo of you staring at your coffee cup like it betrayed you. Casey: That’s just my face. Y/N: Sure it is. But really, what did the coffee do to you? Casey: It was burnt. A betrayal of the highest order. Y/N: Tragic. Should I unmatch now, or wait until you commit a food-related crime in real life? Casey: Bold of you to assume I’d share food on the first date. Y/N: Oh, you’re one of those. Let me guess, you won’t share fries either? Casey: Correct. Fries are sacred. Y/N: This might not work out. I’m a fry thief. Casey: Noted. I’ll bring decoy fries. Y/N: You’re already planning ahead. I’m impressed. Casey: I’m a lawyer. I must anticipate the worst-case scenario. Y/N: Worst case? Me stealing fries? Casey: Worst case is you stealing fries and not being funny. Y/N: Good thing I’m hilarious, then. Casey: That remains to be seen. Y/N: Oh, you’re a “prove it” kind of person? Casey: Guilty. Y/N: A lawyer joke already? Bold. Casey: If you’re not bold, you won’t survive Tinder. Y/N: True. Speaking of bold, how many boring icebreakers did you survive before we matched? Casey: Three. I had a guy ask me if I “come here often.” Y/N: What is this, a 2003 rom-com? Casey: Exactly. I also had someone tell me I look like I “read a lot.” Y/N: Do you not? Casey: That’s not the point. Y/N: Sure it isn’t, bookworm. Casey: You’re really toeing the line here. Y/N: Oh, is there a line? I didn’t see it. Casey: Keep this up, and you’ll be crossing it. Y/N: Would that be such a bad thing? Casey: No comment. Y/N: Interesting. Casey: You’re trouble, aren’t you? Y/N: Absolutely. Casey: And yet I haven’t unmatched you yet. Curious. Y/N: Face it, Casey. You like me already. Casey: Shut up. Y/N: I’ll take that as a yes.

Casey stared at her screen for a moment, lips twitching despite herself. She hated how smug this Y/N was. But also? She kind of liked it. Swiping right might not have been such a bad idea after all.

Over the next week, their messages became a daily occurrence. Casey found herself checking her phone during breaks at work, a slight smile tugging at her lips whenever she saw Y/N’s name pop up. It was infuriating. And kind of addictive.

Y/N: So, Counselor Novak, tell me, how does a hotshot lawyer like you end up on Tinder? Casey: I could ask you the same question, fry thief. Y/N: I asked first. Casey: Fine. Peer pressure. Y/N: Oh no, did someone force you to download a dating app? Tragic. Who do I sue? Casey: You can take it up with my friend Detective Olivia Benson. Y/N: Detective Olivia Benson, huh? Should I be worried about competition? Casey: She’s very happily in a relationship. But she does like to meddle. Y/N: Sounds like a good friend. Casey: Debatable. Y/N: Okay, my turn. I joined Tinder because my best friend told me my “sarcasm doesn’t count as a personality.” Casey: They’re wrong. Y/N: Oh, I know. But now I have to prove it does count. Casey: To them? Y/N: To everyone. Especially you. Casey: Consider me unconvinced. Y/N: Wow. Brutal. Casey: You’ll live. Y/N: Careful, Casey. You’re starting to sound like me. Casey: Don’t flatter yourself. Y/N: Too late.

Casey groaned softly, dropping her phone onto her desk. She wasn’t used to this. Someone who could match her wit, her sarcasm, and still leave her wanting more. It was unnerving.

She picked up her phone again, typing quickly.

Casey: So, when do you plan to prove this sarcasm-is-a-personality theory of yours? Y/N: I don’t know. Are you asking me out, Novak? Casey: I was thinking more along the lines of letting you try to impress me in person. Y/N: Sounds like a date to me. Casey: Technically, it’s an interview. Y/N: Oh, right, because I’m auditioning to steal your fries. Casey: You’re not stealing anything. Y/N: Not with that attitude. Casey: You’re impossible. Y/N: And yet, here you are, texting me back. Casey: Don’t remind me. Y/N: So, what’s your availability, Counselor? Or should I call your assistant to book something? Casey: I don’t need an assistant. Y/N: Fancy. Do you schedule your own dates, too? Casey: I schedule everything. Efficiency is important. Y/N: I’m swooning over your time management skills. Casey: Try to contain yourself.

By the time they settled on a date (Friday night, 7 p.m., some hole-in-the-wall pizza place Casey pretended not to secretly love), Casey felt equal parts excited and annoyed. Y/N was under her skin in a way no one had been in years.

She wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked into the restaurant. But when she spotted Y/N, leaning casually against the counter, a mischievous smirk already plastered across her face, Casey couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re late,” Y/N said as Casey approached.

“I’m not late,” the ADA replied. “You’re just early.”

“Sure, Novak. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Are you always this infuriating?”

“Only when I like someone.”

That shut her up for about two seconds. “Cute. Don’t push your luck.”

Y/N just grinned. 

The pizza place was small, with dim lighting and mismatched chairs that somehow added to its charm. Casey chose a table near the window, and Y/N followed, sliding into the seat across from her with that same maddening grin.

“You’re awfully smug for someone who’s about to lose an argument,” Casey said, picking up the menu.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Lose? I didn’t realize we were already arguing.”

“We will be. I take my pizza choices very seriously.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Let me guess, classic cheese, no toppings, and a side of self-righteousness?”

Casey’s lips twitched. “Wrong. I’m a Margherita girl. But nice try.”

“Margherita,” Y/N repeated, mock solemn. “How… traditional.”

“Oh, and you’re going to tell me you order something ridiculous like pineapple, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity.”

Casey pretended to study her closely. “Huh. I was worried I’d have to call Olivia to arrest you tonight, but it seems you have some standards.”

Y/N grinned. “I’m a woman of mystery. You’ll learn that in time.”

“Bold assumption, considering we haven’t even ordered yet.”

“Speaking of which,” Y/N said, leaning forward slightly, “what’s your go-to pizza place lawyer pickup line? Because I’m still waiting for you to impress me.”

Casey arched a brow. “You’re the one who agreed to this. Shouldn’t you be impressing me?”

Y/N shrugged. “That depends. Are you the type who’s impressed by bad jokes?”

“No.”

“Great, because I’m about to tell one anyway. Why did the tomato turn red?”

Casey sighed, already regretting this. “Why?”

“Because it saw the salad dressing.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Casey blinked, leaning back in her chair with a slow shake of her head.

“Absolutely not,” she said, though she couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N looked triumphant. “You smiled.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You’re literally smiling right now, Casey.”

Casey schooled her features into a look of mock disdain. “I think we need to establish some ground rules for this… whatever this is.”

“Oh, I love rules,” Y/N said, leaning her chin on her hand. “Go on.”

“First rule: no more bad jokes.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s possible.”

“Second rule,” Casey continued, ignoring her, “you don’t get to steal my fries or my pizza. We order separate portions like civilized people.”

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Separate? Casey, I thought we were building something real here.”

“Rule three,” Casey added sharply, “no sarcasm while I’m eating.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. What am I supposed to do? Compliment you sincerely?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Fine.” Y/N leaned forward, meeting Casey’s eyes with mock seriousness. “Your time management skills are impeccable. And your taste in pizza? Absolutely average, but I can work with it.”

Casey burst out laughing before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth, glaring at Y/N, who looked far too pleased with herself.

By the time the pizza arrived, they’d gone through two rounds of drinks and an unspoken competition to see who could come up with the most ridiculous lawyer joke. (Y/N’s submission—Why don’t sharks attack lawyers? Professional courtesy. —had earned an eye-roll so dramatic Casey almost got whiplash.)

“You know,” Y/N said as they both reached for their slices, “I had a backup plan in case this date went horribly wrong.”

“Backup plan?”

“Yep. I was going to fake a phone call and claim my cat was on fire or something.”

Casey paused mid-bite, giving her a skeptical look. “Your cat? On fire?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And yet, here you are,” Casey said, mimicking her words from earlier.

Y/N smiled, pointing at her. “Touché, Counselor. Looks like you’re starting to keep up.”

“Starting to?”

Y/N shrugged. “You’re almost at my level.”

Casey let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know how anyone puts up with you.”

“They don’t,” Y/N said cheerfully. “But I’m glad you’re willing to try.”

For a moment, Casey just looked at her, her expression softening despite herself. There was something disarming about Y/N’s confidence, her relentless humor, the way she didn’t back down no matter how many sarcastic comments Casey threw her way. It was kind of wonderful.

After splitting the check (over Y/N’s loud protest of, “Let me pay, Novak, or I’ll tell the waiter you’re a fry thief!”), they stepped outside into the crisp night air.

“So,” Y/N said, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “Did I pass your interview, or should I expect a rejection email in the morning?”

Casey smirked. “I’ll have to review my notes, but you might be safe for now.”

Y/N tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. “Safe enough for a second date?”

Casey considered her for a long moment. “We’ll see,” she said lightly, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a way that betrayed her amusement.

Y/N grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Of course you will.”

They lingered for a moment, the playful banter fading into something softer as their eyes met.

“Well,” Y/N said finally, her voice quieter, “I guess this is where I let you get back to your very busy, lawyer-y life.”

Casey hesitated for just a second before stepping closer, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Text me when you get home.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “Whatever you say, Counselor.”

And as Casey turned to walk away, she realized she was already looking forward to seeing that smirk again.

[park-jimin-isnt-real]

"edge of tonight" part eighteen ~ the intervention

pairing: namjoon x reader (lots of platonic ot7 x reader) rating: T 16+ genre: mafia au, angst this part: Jimin is just as much of an asshole as you thought he was. But he helps. tw: mafia au!, angst, lots of swearing, tragic backstories, allusions to and talk of sexual abuse (nothing explicit) and abuse in general, talk of manipulation, interventions word count: ~6.2k track #21: Surrender ~ MALINDA: “But that was then and this in now, and we made it through the woods somehow, fighting to keep what we've won.” the edge of tonight masterlist an: i can't believe i got this out so quickly. who even am i. what has possessed me. will it continue. who know. anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter! it's jimin's redemption chapter and i have been waiting for it since i first wrote "the bar". please let me know what you think! a little comment or dm goes a long way to helping me get through writing the next parts. thank you so much for reading!!

No, no, no. This was not what you wanted. This was not what you planned. This was not at all how the past five minutes were supposed to go.

Jackson isn't the only one who can fuck you stupid.

You were stunned silent. Park's words threw you off even more than his actions. That wasn't what you wanted, either. You never wanted to sleep with Jackson, it was usually just a byproduct of him helping you turn your mind off. At some point you stopped caring about Jackson's need to fuck you entirely, more concerned with the end result of a quiet mind.

A very small part of you, in the very back of your mind, wondered, why do you stop thinking when you have sex with Jackson? But you weren't in any physical or mental position right now to think about that.

You didn't want to think anymore. You wanted Jackson. You needed Jackson.

And this wasn't Jackson. This was Park Jimin and he wasn't what you needed. His eyes bore down into yours, still devoid of any amusement or lust. There was only fierce determination and a quiet concern that threw you off even more.

"Th–that's not what I—"

"Isn't it?" Park interrupted you. "Isn't that what you were talking about down there? How you're thinking too much and you need to make it stop?" You especially didn't like how he was throwing your words back at you. They sounded wrong coming from him.

They once sounded wrong coming from Jackson, but you had stopped caring about that, too.

"Breaking news, beautiful: Jackson isn't the only one who can fuck, and I'm a hell of a lot closer."

No, no, no. You didn't want to have sex with Park Jimin. He wasn't the right person, he wouldn't get it right, he wouldn't be able to shut your brain off properly. You tried shaking your head, but the movement came across stilted and jerky. "Don't touch me," you weakly demanded.

"I’m not touching you," came his unyielding response. That denial gave you a small spark of anger again, something you could hold onto and grow until you could fight back against him properly.

"Yes you—"

"Check again, beautiful," Park interrupted you a second time. Your lips started curling into a sneer, even as you did as he said.

One of his legs was between yours, and his arms had you caged in on either side. But you also noticed a slight shake in his shoulders, a subtle shiver that didn't come from adrenaline or anticipation.

Park wasn't on you, he was over you. He was holding himself up, keeping you trapped beneath him by his proximity, but his body was not touching yours. The smallest part of you relaxed, but it wasn't enough to quell your anxiety or your growing anger. "Get off of me."

"Not until we talk."

"Can we not talk like this?"

"Are you gonna make a break for the door as soon as I'm off?" He countered.

It took you several breaths before you could honestly answer, "No. I'll stay and we can talk."

Park looked deep into your eyes, trying to gauge how genuine you were, then fully pushed himself up and climbed off the bed. You rolled off the edge as soon as he was on the other side of the room, sitting on the soft carpet and pulling your legs up towards your chest. You were also able to take in Park's décor: everything was red. Red curtains covered the windows, velvet by the looks of it, like you would see on a stage, blocked out any sunlight that would've come in. Red sheets on the bed, red wallpaper with darker red filigree accents, red carpet even. The lights were soft and warm, adding a gentle ambiance to the space, and the furniture was made of a deep mahogany that complimented the rest of the colors.

It was like he thought himself a goddamn prince, and had his room made to show it.

"The chaise is softer than the floor," he said, nodding towards the furniture on the opposite side of the bed. Your eyes flicked to it over the mattress, you could see the curling build of the backrest with more red fabric, but looked back at Park just as quickly. So far, he was unaffected by your death glare. "Or you can get back on the bed. You know it's not going to hurt you, right?"

You avoided his question, instead bringing up one of your own: "Everyone keeps trying to tell me that you're actually really nice, so what the fuck is your deal, Park?"

That got a sarcastic laugh from him. "I would love to be nice to you," he responded with just as much intensity as you were throwing at him, although none of the venom. "But being nice to you isn't getting you anywhere, so someone's gotta be an asshole and I guess that someone is me."

"Why can't you just back the fuck off instead?" Why couldn't he just leave you alone? Everyone else left you alone! And you were doing just fine!

"Because that's what everyone else is doing." Okay, him reading your mind was starting to get weird. Park turned away, heading over to the wall. You heard him open something as he continued, "And backing the fuck off led to you trying to go back down to Jackass in Busan."

"Jackson." Something closed as you corrected him.

"Jackass," he insisted. He pulled a glass out from somewhere, you couldn't quite see, and poured himself a glass of wine. "Champagne?" Park asked, offering you the drink as if you two weren't in the middle of an argument at that moment.

"Seriously?" He already knew you barely drank, but the fact that he couldn't have this super serious discussion with you—that he wanted to have!—while sober was mildly offensive. He only shrugged, sipping at the glass instead. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Plenty," Park answered nonchalantly between sips. "The real question is, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

The angry, confused glare you were giving him was exactly what he wanted. Jimin needed to keep you angry—not angry enough to actually kill him and run off, but enough that you would continue being genuine. He didn't know what anger was the only thing that got through the cloud of Jackson inside you head, why it was the only thing that made you truly honest, bust as long as it did he was going to exploit that as much as he could.

"Excuse me?" Was all you could manage to say in response, so completely blown away by his accusation that you weren't sure how else to.

Park pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly tapping at the screen until he found what he was looking for. Placing the glass of wine down on top of the fridge, he held up one finger at a time as he read to you from his phone. "One: you don't use beds for anything other than sex. Two: you barely get enough sleep because you aren't sleeping comfortably to begin with, along with nightmares you still have which you occasionally take sleeping pills to try and bypass. Three: you can't stand closed doors because they make you feel trapped, and opening a door will wake you up from whatever stage of sleep you're in. Four: you zone out or fully dissociate unless someone is actively engaging with you, or a door opens. Five: you self-harm, usually with your fingernails, to help get you out of panic attacks that you have way too often." He looked up at you. "I'm out of fingers on this hand, but I can keep going."

For the second time in ten minutes, you were stunned silent by Park's words. Having a list like that read back at you, as if you were in trouble and these were all the things you had done wrong, made you uncomfortable in an unfamiliar way.

"Those are just things I do," you said, choosing to remain ignorant, desperately holding onto that flame of anger from before.

"No," Park placed his phone next to the wine glass, "those are unhealthy coping mechanisms you have to deal with or ignore the effects of your traumas instead of properly addressing them and healing. Normal people don't do this kind of stuff."

Thankfully, he was making it easy to stay angry. "Normal people haven't gone through what I did!"

"Yeah," he said, "exactly. What you've gone through isn't normal, so what you're doing isn't normal, but you keep acting like it is. And the more everyone around you keeps letting you do that, the worse those coping mechanisms get until you reach a breaking point."

And a breaking point you had reached. "I'm done." Park was talking down to you, and you had had enough of it, especially from someone who didn't understand you, who didn't know you or know what you'd been through. You stood up, readjusting your clothes on your way to the door, but Park was relentless.

"Nothing is ever going to get better if you don't work at making it better."

You turned on your heel. "How do you know I haven't tried to?"

"Because you're actively trying to go back to the first person who enabled you—who probably gave you these coping mechanisms to begin with!"

"You don't know anything about him!"

"I know everything I need to know!"

"Get off your fucking high horse, Park!"

"Not until I kick Jackass off of his!"

"I'm not you!" You were taken aback by your words. You weren't sure where that admission had come from, but saying it out loud helped you calm down a bit. Lowering your voice, you continued, "I get it, okay? You're normal and I'm not. But I'm not you."

"No, you're not," he agreed, matching your tone. Actually, now that you thought about it, he had matched your tone this whole time, never trying to be louder or drown you out. It wasn't how your arguments with Jackson went, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was the smallest bit refreshing.

He paused for a moment, letting the energy in the room quiet down as well. He made direct eye contact with you, and something about the earnest, sincere way he looked at you kept you from looking away. "But I was once you."

The fire of anger that had been burning bright inside you died down quickly after that. You even took a step back, not fully understanding what he was saying. "What do you mean?" you asked softly.

Jimin took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff. He knew he'd end up telling you about it, he knew it was the only way you'd finally listen to him and take him seriously. He'd prepared himself for it as much as one could. But it was never easy talking about it. "My parents divorced when I was 10," he started, his voice stable but quiet. "My mom took my little brother to California, where I'm sure they've been living their best life. I was left here with my dad, who was so torn up over everything that soon after his sister was given full custody of me."

Park paused to pick his drink back up, downing the rest of the glass in one go, and you thought that maybe his drinking was due to the story he was about to tell you. You listened, still concerned, still confused, but you decided to let him get it all out without interrupting him. You slowly lowered yourself back to the floor, making yourself comfortable as he continued.

"My aunt lived here in Seoul, in a big, beautiful penthouse. I asked her what she did to afford such a place, and she told me she ran a club. I asked if she would take me there and she said that if I was good she would let me come to work with her sometime." He looked over to the curtained window, as if he were staring out at the horizon instead of red velvet.

"So I was. I worked hard, getting the highest grades in school, making sure every centimeter of that penthouse was spotless. When she learned I liked dancing, she enrolled me in the best dance classes. She told me if I was good there too, she would take me to her club and let me dance. So I did. I became the best dancer in every class, quickly moving into more advanced ones. And she was proud of me."

You could easily recognize that feeling, that wanting to be praised and loved and good. It was why you clung to Jackson so hard when you were still in that room—the only person who treated you with any modicum of kindness, who made you feel like a person rather than an object. It was why you needed to go back to him so badly.

"I was 14 when she finally took me to her club. It was mesmerizing. Glitter everywhere, brandy, cigars, men and women in dressed to the nines throwing money at scantily-clad men and women dancing on the stage. She had me put on a costume, as she called it, and let me go perform. I was the youngest that crowd had ever seen, but my god, the way I raked in money for her…"

Jimin trailed off, getting lost in the memory. The blinding lights, the stench of alcohol and smoke and sweat and something he now knew was sex, the money that littered the stage floor. If only he could go back, if only he could tell his younger self that going to that club was a mistake… but he couldn't change the past. What happened is what happened. He was here now, and that's what mattered.

"Jimin, she told me that night, I have a favor to ask. You know how much money I've spent on you, making sure you have every need taken care of and you want for nothing. I have a way you can start paying me back." Those words had been engrained in his mind since she uttered them to him in one of the hallways upstairs. "Told me Mr. Gu had paid her a very large amount of money to spend some time with me, and all I had to do was listen to him and do as he says for 45 minutes. After all, I owed her of all she had done for me."

You owe him your gratitude, you recalled Jimin telling you months ago, you don't owe him your body. Slowly, piece by piece, a lot of what he had said and done to you started making a bit more sense.

"Carried on like that for three years," he continued, "before she finally got caught and sent to jail, and the club was shut down." Three years was one year short of how long you were in the room, but he was also younger than you when it started.

"Why did you do it?" You didn't mean to ask, but the words found themselves tumbling out of your mouth.

Jimin looked at you for the first time since he started his tale. "I owed her," he said, as if that alone explained it all. In a way, it did. "She had given me everything, and that was how she wanted me to pay her back. There was also the looming threat that if I didn't comply with what she wanted, she would start taking things away, and I didn't want that either."

Guilt and fear. Jackson had done the same with you for years. At some point you stopped caring.

A very small part of you, in the very back of your mind, wondered, when had you stopped caring?

"Having a tragic backstory doesn't give you a reason to be an asshole," you said, though not nearly as mean as you wanted to be. Jimin's lips curled up in a barely-there smile.

"Taehyung and his uncle took me in after she was sentenced, but I was lost without her. She was my everything. Working for her was the only way I knew to gain validation. If she was happy with me, then I was happy. I visited her in jail every week, told her I was working on a way to get her out. I was trying so hard to still be good for her." The barely-there smile turned into a wry one. "That's how I got involved with the Underground, and I dragged Tae with me, though he'll tell you he came willingly to make sure I didn't get myself killed."

Slowly, as to not startle you or spike your anxiety, Jimin started shuffling towards you as he went on. "For two years, Tae and his uncle handled me gently. They understood I was going through some difficult things, and for the most part left me alone. So, I went out every night and got drunk and had sex with anything that walked on two legs. It was shortly before we first met Namjoon that Tae finally snapped. He decided that he'd had enough of watching me waste my life away for someone who only cared about how much money I could make her. He went from leaving me alone to being an asshole. He made sure I ate real food and actually drank water, made me work on things that actually mattered, and didn't let me drink or fuck unless it benefitted the job we were working on—which, at that time, was looking for you." You felt your cheeks heat up just a bit at that.

"For the following two years I fucking hated him for it. Why couldn't he leave me alone again? Why did he have to be such an asshole about everything? I was doing just fine before his intervention. I didn't need his help." That sounded almost verbatim what you had said to him over the past few weeks, since he decided to stop leaving you alone. Suddenly a lot of things Jimin had said or done to you was making a lot of sense.

"I hated it," Jimin repeated, "but it worked. Slowly but surely, I got my life back together, finished high school, and fast-tracked a degree in psychology with an emphasis on understanding trauma that comes from abuse and how to manage, cope, and eventually heal from it." He stopped moving, now significantly closer to you, but still kept his distance. "Going through something traumatic literally rewires your brain, and there are people out there who will recognize that and, instead of offering you help, they will take advantage of that and reinforce the rewiring. I don’t need to know everything about Jackson to know what he's done to you. My Jackson was my aunt."

You actually felt a pang of sympathy towards Jimin. Maybe the two of you weren't so different after all. Still though…

"I wasn't abused." The words were short, stunted almost, like you had to force them out. Jimin only raised an eyebrow at the statement. You quickly amended it. "I mean, in the room, yes, I was, but not in Busan. Not by Jackson." Now he raised both eyebrows, looking down at you, radiating are you serious right now energy.

"Y/N," Jimin said quietly, almost reverently, the way you would expect Namjoon to say your name. He knelt down, joining you on the floor, to make direct eye contact with you again. "Are you genuinely telling me that you don't see the similarities between what happened to me and what happened to you?"

You wanted to say that you didn't see them, but lying felt impossible. You looked down, unable to handle the weight of his gaze. "It's different," you said instead. "You were younger, you didn't know what she was doing."

"And you knew?"

"Of course I knew!" Your eyes snapped back up to his, a small fire of anger lighting again, but this time your anger was directed at yourself. "I was raised to be a manipulator, I knew exactly what was happening, I just—" You dropped your head into your hands with a groan, and it took you several breaths before you could continue. "I was so scared. He got me out. He could take me back. I didn't want to go back."

He gained your trust. He gave you what you wanted. Then he isolated you, made you depend on him for everything, all under the guise of caring about you. Every time you tried fighting back, he fought back harder, always with the looming threat of taking away his protection, of letting you get swept up by some Busan gang and used all over again or even ending up back in the room.

You were scared. So you played along. And, eventually, the constant fear made you tired, made it harder for you to fight back against him. Made it easier to give in and just let it happen.

Made it easier to stop thinking.

You always knew what Jackson was doing. You knew of his manipulations and how much control he had over you. For years he had worn you down, until you were fully caught in his web, uncaring, so fucking tired, until you became what he wanted just so he would leave you alone. You had always been able to see it, you simply chose to ignore it, and thus willingly gave him more and more power over you until he had it all. Until it was too late.

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes. Angry tears. How could you have let this happen?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice was gentle, soft, in a way you had never heard directed at you. This must have been the nice Jimin everyone kept telling you about, the one that was sweet and kind and cared too deeply and too much. You heard him scoot closer to you, and you lifted your head just enough to see him. Suddenly his company was very much wanted, and you couldn't rationalize the reason why.

"You know it's okay to cry," he said. "It helps, actually. Grieving is an important part of healing."

You shook your head. "I'm not grieving anything."

"You're grieving the loss of a very large part of your identity. Jackson, my aunt, they both found us at extremely vulnerable moments in our lives, times when we were broken, and they put us back together in the way they wanted us to be. They built us up so that they were our foundation, and when that foundation was taken away, we became broken again, lost, and desperate to have back what we knew."

Damn, he was using that degree. Because he was right, again. Despite all that had happened in Park Jimin's room so far, such a large part of you still longed to go back to Busan, to go back to Jackson, back to that familiarity. Jackson broke you with that phone call, and you've been trying to rebuild yourself by doing things he would want you to do, until your own efforts weren't enough and—

You reached a breaking point.

You tried blinking the tears back, but too many had welled up. Several spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. "Fuck you, Park," you muttered with no real ferocity. You wiped at your face, trying to stop crying.

Jimin leaned forward, opening his arms. "Can I?" he asked. It was strange that he asked for you permission to hold you, but what was stranger was that you accepted it. With a quick nod, Jimin was right in front of you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. There was something so gentle about it that made you let the tears flow. You didn't sob, you just cried silently, grieving the loss of who you were supposed to be, of who Jackson was to you. Jimin rubbed your back and softly told you that you were going to be okay.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, wiping your face with the end of his sleeve. "How do you feel?" he asked, still quiet, still gentle. You weren't sure how to answer. The tears had mostly stopped now, but you weren't sure if that was indicative of anything. You were still angry at yourself, angry at Jackson, still shocked by the way Jimin was treating you now. Overall, you were still tired, but something about it was different now. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to pinpoint what had changed.

"Better?" Jimin suggested. "Worse? The same?" That gave you some guidance. Thinking it over—shocked you were okay with thinking so much right now—you realized what it was, what had changed.

There was an ever-present weight in your soul that was exhausting to carry every waking moment. But now, it weighed a little less. Just a touch. Not enough to truly effect you, but enough that you could feel it. You felt a little bit lighter, breathed a bit deeper, thought a bit clearer.

"Better," you said. Your voice was slightly hoarse from the crying, but there was a stability to it you hadn't heard yourself use in a long time. "Just a little bit."

How could one conversation do all this to you?

"That's good," Jimin nodded. "Even feeling just a little bit better is good. Here." He moved to stand both of you up, and you followed his guidance without objection. Your legs were slightly wobbly from the position you'd been in, but he helped keep you steady. Once you were balanced he sat on the edge of the bed, still keeping contact with your arm, holding it gently. You could slip out of his hold or shake is hand off easily if you wanted to, but the touch was comforting. You blinked back the last of the tears, wiping your cheeks one last time to clear the remaining tear tracks away, and then stared at the spot next to him.

Jimin smiled. "I promise it won't eat you," he said with a small laugh, before turning serious again. "And neither will I."

You swallowed, but decided to take a chance. Taking a deep breath in, you let it out slowly as you turned around and sat next to him, the mattress dipping to accommodate your shared weights. Part of you was still on high alert, waiting for the inevitable moment when you'd be on your back again. The other part was repeating Jimin's words. The word promise didn't mean anything to you anymore, except maybe now it did. Maybe now it meant what it was supposed to, and people could be held to their word.

"What are you thinking about?" You were thinking too much. "Don't try to say you're thinking too much. Just say what's on your mind. Talking with someone helps almost as much as crying."

Your initial reaction was to fight against that. Talking never helped, it just gave Jackson more ammunition to use against you, to control you. Except— "You're not Jackson."

If he was thrown off by your words this time, he didn't show it. "Correct."

"So, you're not going to treat me like Jackson did."

"Also a correct statement. In fact," he added, "no one here is going to treat you like that."

"Then why do I keep expecting everyone to?" You asked, more to yourself than to Jimin.

He answered anyway. "Because that's what you're used to, and it's going to take time to get you used to something else, something different. But it can be done. You can change."

"What if I can't? What if I'm stuck like this forever?"

Jimin squeezed on your arm just barely, just enough to keep you grounded in the here-and-now, to keep you from spiraling. "It feels that way right now, but you won't always feel like that. And someday, you'll look back and you'll be amazed by all the progress you've made."

"How will I know if I've made any progress? What does progress even look like?" If he was going to keep answering your questions, no matter how existential, you were going to keep asking them.

"Progress looks like little things, every day, that slowly push you towards who you want to be. For you specifically, I'd suggest eating full meals and interacting and socializing with people outside the seven of us, and eventually sleeping on a bed throughout the night." You flinched at that thought, but you couldn't deny he was right. "Listen, Y/N, I know how hard healing is. I still haven't fully healed, and I've been away from my abuser for as long as you've been in Busan. It sucks. It's hard. It hurts."

"You are not making a good case for healing right now."

Jimin chuckled. "It's worth it. Aren't you tired of feeling so tired?" You weren't sure if he was expecting an answer, but after a moment you nodded. "That's why I started being such an asshole. Everyone else has been letting you be tired, because they don't want to make you uncomfortable, but someone's got to push you to do things that will help you, even if you'll be uncomfortable at first."

You nodded again, taking in everything he'd said. You wouldn't like doing what he suggested. It would make you uncomfortable. But you were uncomfortable crying too, and that ultimately turned out to be in your favor. So maybe Jimin was right about this too.

"How long does the uncomfortable last?"

"It'd different for everyone," he shrugged. "Some of the people we work with are fine within a handful of weeks. Others take years, and I know there's a few we've gotten out of the country who are still going to therapy. It took me about a year before I started feeling less tired."

You bit your lip. You had a feeling your healing was going to take a long time, probably a number of years. Especially since, despite your revelation and current feelings— "Part of me still wants to go back to Busan," you admitted softly. Part of you wished it wasn't true.

"Part of you will, for a long time. There's going to be this cognitive dissonance in your head for a while, a fight between what you want to do—like going back to Busan—and what you know you should do—literally anything besides that. You need to remember that that familiarity is only going to hurt you more in the long run."

Of course going to see Jackson now would only hurt you more. Of course it was going to take a long time for you to undo all that rewiring, to build yourself up into who you wanted to be. The only thing left was to figure out who you wanted to be.

There was one last thing you wanted to ask him. "If I start to lose my mind again, can I count on you to be an asshole?"

There was that classic Park Jimin smirk. "Of course, beautiful. No one else is gonna do it, so it might as well be me. There is one condition though, well, two actually." You raised your eyebrow, wondering what conditions he was about to offer you. "First, you need to tell me when you start thinking about going back before you start to lose your mind."

You nodded. That was acceptable, and understandable. "And the second one?"

Jimin stood up, finally releasing your arm and leaving you alone on his bed. "You need to make sure Namjoon-hyung doesn't kill me for what I did today." That, somehow, got a laugh out of you, one that almost sounded genuine.

You also stood up, shaking your head. "Namjoon isn't going to kill you." You started heading for the door, Jimin joining you this time.

"Of course he won't, because you're going to convince him not to." Jimin opened the door, letting you exit first. "Also, and this is just a thought, but you should really try to rebuild that relationship you used to have with him. It doesn't have to get romantic any time soon, but having the bare minimum contact with you is slowly driving him crazy, and at least talking more would be good for both of you."

You knew he was right in that regard as well. You did tell Namjoon you'd try. Maybe you should actually start trying. Maybe it would help you heal, too.

You and Jimin went downstairs together. Namjoon was there in the living room, pacing back and forth as Taehyung tried telling him that everything was going to be fine and Jungkook stood off to the side looking worried and a bit guilty. All three heads snapped towards the two of you.

"Don't kill Jimin," you said bluntly. "He helped."

"Are you going to kill Jimin?" Namjoon asked back, eyes going back and forth between you two. You couldn't tell if he was more concerned for you or angry at the younger.

"No," you answered, brushing past him towards the kitchen, "he helped."

"You're not calling him Park," Taehyung pointed out. And no, you weren't. You hadn't even been thinking of him as Park since he started being nicer to you.

"I told you it was going to work," Jimin said.

"But you didn't need to go about it like that," Tae shot back. It seemed the two of them were about to go at it again. You heard two pairs for footsteps following you, Namjoon and Jungkook you assumed.

"She was about to go back to Busan. Besides, you once handcuffed me to the radiator to keep me from going to the prison!"

"And I've admitted that wasn't my proudest moment!"

You pulled the fridge open, choosing to let the two arguing members fade into the background. "I'm fine, guys." You turned to look at Namjoon over your shoulder. "Really, I am. He really did help me."

"You look like you were crying," Jungkook said quietly, not wanting to point it out but he was also very concerned about what his hyung had done.

"I did," you admitted, "and it helped." You wondered how many times you were going to have to say that before they left you alone about it. You went back to looking in the fridge. "And now I'm hungry."

"You should drink some water, too," Namjoon said, much calmer than before. "Crying dehydrates you." You had a small idea at his words, and Jimin's.

"Would you get me some water?" You asked him softly, looking at him again. It wasn't anything romantic, not by a long shot, but it was a small step in what you hoped was the right direction.

Namjoon was thrown off by your request, but quickly recomposed himself and did as you asked. Jungkook took that as his cue to leave. Someone had to tell Jimin and Tae to take it somewhere else.

"H-here," Namjoon stuttered as he handed you the glass. You smiled softly as you took it.

"Thank you."

You sipped at the cool water, relishing the moisture. You drank half the glass before you put it down and closed the fridge. "What were you doing before Bunny Boy called you in?"

Namjoon smiled sheepishly (the way you used to love) and looked down. "I was actually at the studio with Yoongi-hyung, finally working on some things with him. I should probably be getting back soon. He was pretty upset that I was ditching him."

"Could I come?" you asked before you could talk yourself out of it. "You weren't really dressed to go to the gym anyway.

Namjoon looked back up at you in shock. You hadn't expressed wanting to go anywhere with anyone out of the estate, unless it was with Hueningkai off to find more information. This was new. But it wasn't a bad thing. It was actually what Jimin had been telling all of them about for weeks now. Namjoon decided to finally listen to him, especially since you kept saying that he helped you.

"Sure, yeah, of course. If you want to." Real smooth, Namjoon, he thought.

You smiled again, and Namjoon felt his heart flutter at the sight of it. "We could get takeout on the way? Yoongi won't eat while working unless someone forces him to."

Namjoon nodded, unable to find it in himself to deny you. "Sounds good. Yeonjun's waiting in the garage, if you're ready to go?" You nodded, then grabbed the glass of water and downed the rest of it.

"Let's go," you said, heading towards the door. Namjoon followed you after a moment, wondering what exactly had gone down with you and Jimin. He thought for sure he'd have to pull you off of him before you finally beat him to death. But when he arrived at the estate, Taehyung was telling him that there hadn't been any violent noises coming from Jimin's room so everything was probably okay.

And maybe it was. Maybe Jimin did help you, in the way Jimin helped everyone they worked with. Maybe things would finally start getting better.

thank you everyone for reading!! just a heads up, school starts for me on the 22nd, so updates will probably get more spaced out again. still can't believe i got two chapters out in less than two weeks. please leave a comment or ask about what you thought and what your predictions are for the upcoming parts (the next one is the end of act 2 so you know things are about to get dicey). and let me know if you want to be on the new taglist!

[3dogbones]

🚨🚨🚨INTRO POST TTTIIIMMEE🚨🚨🚨

My name is ✨Peso✨ and this is my ART ACCOUNT.

I use all pronouns and I’m pretty sure I’m genderfluid? Honestly it’s complicated, I give everyone seeing this full permission to just assume my gender. I recognize that everyone online perceives me differently and I think that’s sick af 😎

Asexual and Pansexual if you want to know that for whatever reason.

yes I’m a MINOR… some could even say I yearn for the mines… ⛏️

MAINLY HYPERFIXATED ON UNDERTALE, especially Epic Sans (unfortunately I’m also terminally cringe… have a whole side account dedicated to him at @epicsansgang go follow me for obsession and a bunch of reblogs of the guy… I MIGHT BE ONE OF HIS BIGGEST FANS AND I HATE THAT WHAT THE SIGMA)

Other stuff I like: MP100, Dungeon Meshi, Epic Sans, SMG4, Sonic, Omori, Will Wood, Saiki K, Epic Sans, other popular Animes like jjk and kny, Mouthwashing, Vocaloids, Epic Sans, Drew/Danny (same person), Kurtis Conner, SKIBIDI TOILET /j etc etc… oh btw did I mention a certain purple skeleton with a scar and daddy issues yet?

Erk a bunch of Epic sans and Laios kinnning here. HORRIBLE COMBO IK. Undiagnosed but something isn’t right TONE INDICATORS/EMOJIS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED. PLEASE don’t get mad if I don’t get something right away… I’m sorry my brain isn’t as “EDUCATED” in the area of social cues 🙄

MARRIED AND ADOPTED ALREADY SORRY GANG! Buuuuuuut if ya want me to adopt you I am very available…🥺… psppspsppsp

Dms/Ask are always opened. Bored out of my mind half of the time and too much of a “SCAREDY CAT” to ever make the first move. PS I WILL MATCH YOUR FREAK so be warned. i want more buddy chum pals so GET OVER HERE‼️🫵😈

I’m absolutely horrid at answering ask in a good time but I swear I get to them eventually, just give me 5 years to doodle out comics and stuff.

hope this wasn’t too horrible to read through. Thanks for somehow making it all the way down here? How do I end this… last updated 1/2/25???

[ladybugsimblr]

Q: I don’t need the Bailey Kay Superstar Social Media Special. Maybe an assistant, so I don’t miss out on a dope opportunity because my inbox is flooded with enthusiastic butterflies. BK: Aht Aht! This is not about the Hive! This is about the thirsties slipping and sliding into your dms. My butterflies know how to act. Q: Oh really?! BK: Yes really.

Q: That’s funny because… let me see… here… Yeah I definitely got nudes from… wildbutterfly and a sexybfly4liiiife with four i’s. BK: So we’re keeping messages with nudes now, Quinton??? Q: Damn. The government?? Penny, help! Penny: You two are hilarious. This is quality entertainment. Maybe we should reconsider the reality show. BK&Q: NO!

BK: What’s with the face sir? Are we boring you? Khalil: I’m just wondering when we’re gonna talk about the elephant in the room. BK: ( Shit. How does he know?? ) Penny: Khalil, now is not the time. We’re celebrating. Q: No, get it off your chest because you’re definitely killing the vibe.

-

This was wordy so continue reading below…

Khalil: Look, I gave in with the residency decision, but I’m not rolling over on this retirement thing. I think it’s stupid and a huge fucking mistake. BK: Well damn. Khalil: I don’t get it B. You love this. Music is life. Performing is life. Your fans. All of it. Why would you stop now? BK: You’re right. I do love it. And music has been my life, but I’ve done it all. I’ve accomplished every one of my goals when it comes to being an entertainer. I’m ready to move on.

Khalil: This is crazy. You’re at the top of your game. Now is when you cement your legend status. All the greats are still recording and performing into their adult years, some even elders! BK: I hear you, but right now I just want to do things on my terms and time. I want to focus on my family. I want to help other artists make their dreams come true. Maybe even discover something else I love. Khalil: This industry moves fast. You know that. If you quit, there’s no guarantee you’ll get your spot back. Everyone will move on to the next hot thing. BK: I’m not worried about that. If I come back it will be out of love for the music. I don’t need to chase the fame and the top spot anymore.

Khalil: Did you forget about the 2 albums left on your contract? BK: No, I- Q: Are you really bringing up contracts right now?! Khalil: No one is listening to logic so yes I’m talking about legal obligations. Q: Clearly you didn't hear one thing she just said. You’re still only worried about what she can do for you.

Khalil: Q, stay in your lane. I don’t tell you how to do your job. Don’t tell me how to do mine. Q: Maybe you should think about something else other than the job. There is more to life. Khalil: Here you go with your speeches on family life. Focusing on the job got me, your wife and you the success you have now. You conveniently forget that. The family sim thing is for you. That’s great. But let me and B do what we do best and make sure we all stay winning. BK: It doesn’t have to be an either or situation. Both can be possible. Khalil: Retirement is not both. Retirement is quitting and that’s not the Global Superstar BK that I signed. It’s sounding like Bailey being influenced by Quinton.

Q: I don't like your tone. BK: Khalil, you’re about to cross a line and we really don’t have to go there. Khalil: I’m just being real because you two are not thinking straight. I swear you must be pregnant or something because that’s the only time you come at me with the home life work life balance shit. But even you two wouldn’t be that reckless.

*crickets*

Penny: Bailey… Khalil: Are you fucking kidding me?!

BK: We- Khalil: This is bullshit. I’m out. Penny: Khalil!

[ada7201]

dms ⟲ michael kaiser x reader

a bit short, i was bored and felt bad for posting so little today! take this as an apology 🤍

also, i might continue this if i ever get bored again so look forward to it if you want (^з^)

! not proofread, and this was just for fun !

“i’d let him step on me.” Kaiser read aloud, a proud grin on his face. his slim fingers pushed his glasses up, before he read another. “kaiser im good at washing dishes if you’re looking for a housewife!”

to say these comments were boosting his ego would be an understatement.

Kaiser was sat down comfortably on his couch, when he decided it was about time he read the comments on his most recent instagram post.

and when he saw your comments, his ego was more than satisfied.

“kaiser pls give me a chance” another comment read, oh this was getting fun.

you wanted a chance with him? how sweet.

he clicked on your profile - not like you deserved it, he was just curious.

your profile was also a big ego post for him, considering your username was literally “y/nluvskaiser”

aw, you love him?

he had to admit, you were beautiful - but some of your comments were filthy.

it was hilarious!

he scrolled through a few of your posts, smirking at the caption of one being “kaiser if ur seeing this, dm me 🙏”

he couldn’t help but chuckle.

did you really think he’d message you just because of a mere instagram caption?

he did.

m kaiser

i saw your comments.

y/n

IS THIS REAL??

you were practically screaming from excitement - did THE michael kaiser just dm you?!

m kaiser

yes it is real. how dare you assume i’m fake? have a look at my profile if you don’t believe me.

you listened to the message, clicking on the profile - and woah! it really was him!

y/n

im so sorry for my comments! did i offend you?

i meant every word i said tho. (message deleted)

m kaiser

i saw that.

no, you did’t offend me. your comments even made me laugh a little

be proud. im never admitting that again

[ninadove]

Omg I nearly missed this HAVE SOME ASKS BELOVED 💜💖💙 3, 11, 17, 24, 34, 38

MWAH MWAH MWAH 💌

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

I’ll give you the three pillars of my childhood!

First one is Tigger’s movie. My beloved. It has everything including the found family trope and a great sibling relationship and even identity fraud shenanigans. I rewatched it last year and then streamed it a few months ago for my Anarchist Gang friends and I was hit by how well the writers and animators conveyed the logic of a story invented by a little boy! Absolutely all the songs are iconic and I cried all over again.

Then you have two straight-to-DVD Disney sequels that are basically the same film: The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea and The Lady and the Tramp 2: Scamp’s adventure. I actually didn’t see the originals until years later and when I did, I was sorely disappointed (DO NOT HATE ME. I KNOW NOW THAT THEY ARE GREAT MOVIES.)… They’re both stories about freedom and finding yourself and reappropriating your origins and what it means to be a family, and they filled me with neverending wonder as a little girl! ✨

11. What do you consider to be romance?

Ooooh what a big question… I expected nothing less from you 💌

I’m going to be so cliché: romance, to me, is healing.

Maybe you didn’t grow up in the best environment. Maybe the people around you made you feel like you were weird, or too much, or like you didn’t belong. Maybe a previous partner screwed you over… Maybe all you’ve ever known is sharpness, so that’s how you behave, without even realising it.

Romance is the arrival of someone in your life who knows exactly what you’ve been through, but experienced it a little differently. Someone who is both extremely similar to you and extremely different. Someone who forces you to rearrange your worldview and who rearranges theirs to include you… Above all, someone who is gentle with you, and a little bit crazy about you, and makes you a priority always.

I just described Feligami, and that’s not a coincidence. I think I didn’t realise exactly how much I wanted this for myself until I saw them onscreen… BUT ALSO!!!!! How much I literally didn’t want anything less than what they have, which was a huge revelation. I’m demiromantic, I could perfectly live my entire life on my own and be very happy: if I’m going to make room for a partner, they’d better draw hearts on my window and rescue me from exhausting social functions and be ready to cause a car accident to get me out of a villain’s claws.

Now if you asked me what love is, that would be a different story! 💌

17. Name 3 things that make you happy!

You, of course! 🖤🪶⚔️💌

Outside of the obligatory “my loved ones” response… Reading in a café, or in bed with the rain battering against my window. Waking up to the seagulls’ cacophony song. Re-reading something I wrote and being goddamn proud of myself. Also, I watched the new Miraculous episodes this morning (or rather only episode 2 so far, which is the first they aired, go figure), and THEY GAVE RYUKO LITTLE HAIR SPIKES. MY GIRL. SHE HAS LITTLE HAIR SPIKES. HOW DO YOU EXPECT FELIX (and me) TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS AAAAAAW ❤️🐉

24. What’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

I think I’m good at reevaluating when I’ve been wrong without wallowing in guilt. Critical skill, me thinks. You don’t actually learn anything from shaming yourself ad nauseam.

34. Any pet peeves?

MANY OF THEM BUT I SHAN’T SAY HERE. I’ve told you of the one that comes to mind first but I have not expanded on how weird I am about it. I’LL DM YOU

38. Fave song at the moment?

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again… This, too, is romance…

… But what if it wasn’t though. What if it was about siblings. @dragongutsixofficial and I have so many thoughts about this one let me tell you.

Thanks for the ask, beloved! Jasmine flowers be upon ye! 💌

[wintersoldiersoul]

Filming

Summary: You convince Sebastian to make a TikTok with you

A/N: This is kinda shitty but I just thought about how cute it would be if you made a TikTok with Seb and had to write about it. The relationship in this is platonic and I was picturing that Y/N is somewhere in her early 20s.

People always assumed that working on a Marvel movie meant constant action. But truly, most of your days were filled with waiting around in your trailer for hours on end. There were so many moving parts that there were some days you would be called at 4am and have to stay until 5pm only to shoot one scene. Needless to say, you had a lot of downtime. 

It was your castmates that made it all bearable. Instead of sitting alone in your trailers, you were usually all hanging out together. Today was one of those days where you had been waiting around for hours on end to film one scene with Sebastian. You were playing Bucky’s long lost grand-niece, naturally meaning that most of your scenes were with him. 

The two of you were sitting in his trailer, anxiously awaiting for a PA to knock on the door and bring you to set. “Ugh,” you groaned, throwing your head back. 

“You okay over there?” Sebastian chuckled, looking up from his cell phone. Despite being nearly 20 years apart in age, the two of you had grown very close. You were like his little sister.

“I’m losing my mind, Seb. I’ve never been this bored in my fucking life.” 

He laughed and continued to scroll through his phone. 

“What are you even doing on there, anyways? You don’t even use social media,” you sassed. You loved to tease him about his lack of social media presence, calling him old and out of touch, even though you secretly wished you could be as brave as him and stop posting on all of yours, too.

“You know there are other things to do on here,” he held up his phone. “I’m reading an article about space. It’s really interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned again. “God help me.” You opened your own phone and clicked on TikTok, hoping that the For You Page would have something entertaining enough to grab your currently short attention span. After a few minutes, you threw your phone down and sighed again. You watched Sebastian from across the room, silently getting an idea. You smiled slyly, and he looked up at you.

“Oh no,” his eyes narrowed. “You have an idea.”

“Let’s make a TikTok.” You were constantly making TikToks with the other actors and your followers loved it. But you had yet to give everyone what they really wanted. Sebastian.

“Absolutely not,” he replied.

You pouted your lip and widened your eyes. “Pleeeaseeee,” you begged. He laughed at your desperation. “It will be fun I promise. Just one.”

“Stop acting like a child,” he said playfully.

“The fans want it. They’re constantly asking where you are in my videos. People are gonna start thinking that we hate each other, you know.”

He smirked. “Oh they’re constantly asking? They wanna see me in a TikTok that badly?” His tone was playful but you knew him well enough to know that he did seriously doubt it. Despite being so successful, he would always be humble and unsure of himself and just how much his fans truly did love him. 

You snapped a selfie of the two of you and posted it in your Instagram story asking if people wanted to see you and Sebastian make a TikTok. Within seconds, thousands of people were answering “yes” to the poll and your DMs were flooded with pleading messages, begging you to get him to make one. 

“See? Now they won’t leave me alone until I do it.”

He sighed. “Fine. Only for you.” Sebastian had a soft spot for you. Even though you were so much younger than him, he really did think of you as one of his best friends. You were wise beyond your years, having grown up in the spotlight. The two of you loved each other, even just platonically. He was always looking after you, obsessively googling people that you went on dates with, always making sure that you got home safe from nights out. You reminded him a lot of himself when he was your age in a lot of ways. “But no dances. I am definitely not doing a fucking Tik Tok dance.”

“Fair enough.” You scrolled through the app trying to find a good video that the two of you could make. “Oh, I know. This will be fun.” You selected the audio from Gilmore Girls. The classic Jess “Why did you drop out of Yale speech.” You filmed Sebastian as Rory, and yourself as Jess. It took him a bit to get the hang of lip-syncing the words but eventually you had a completed result.

You posted the video with the caption, “As highly requested.” Within seconds, your phone was blowing up with likes and comments of people freaking out over you actually getting Sebastian to make a Tik Tok. 

“See? I told you they wanted it.” You smirked, hitting him lightly on the arm.

He rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you, Y/N.”

[iambutmortal]

Watch Me Burn

Chapter 1

Summary: Lucien Vanserra, Godkiller and disgraced prince, is more than content on his own. He doesn't need his family, or his wife, or his former friend. Hasn't needed them in years. But when villages start being attacked by a force he thought he'd destroyed years ago, he's forced back into their company to retrieve the mysterious firebird and save his kingdom from ruin.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 3k

Content Warning: Gore, brief mention of infertility

Authors Note: Happiest of holidays to @labellefleur-sauvage! You mentioned you were a fan of the Witcher video games so I wrote this kind of sort of Witcher AU! It was originally a one shot but has ballooned into a 9 part monstrosity, so I hope that's okay, and also sorry about the delay. You were such a lovely match, thank you for putting up with me. Also the biggest thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher for letting me have a meltdown in her dms, and also to @acotargiftexchange for making this happen.

Read on Ao3

The god sitting in the remains of the temple seemed completely unconcerned with the swarm of bees circling his head. He seemed equally unconcerned by the man approaching him, if his closed eyes were any indication.

Lucien carefully picked his way around the hunks of stone, trying not to twist his ankle as he climbed his way up the half crumbled steps. He scanned for any sort of trick, but aside from the bees there was nothing unusual. Even the god even looked human, if not for the antlers growing out of his head, long and curved like a ram’s.

“You have a choice,” Lucien called once he was on the mostly-level temple floor, unsheathing the sword strapped to his back.

The god didn’t bother to look at him, although Lucien half wondered if he could hear over the sound of buzzing. This close, the swarm was loud enough Lucien’s ear’s were starting to ache.

“Hey,” Lucien yelled, louder this time. A stray bee landed on his nose, and Lucien swiped at it.

Still no response.

Lucien sighed, picked up a piece of marble next to his boot, and threw it at the god. It bounced harmlessly off an antler. That got his attention, and the god swung his head to glare at Lucien with golden eyes.

“The god-butchers really have fallen if they’re resorting to rocks.”

Lucien lifted the sword in his hand, the metal flashing in the sun. “I’ve come to offer a choice.”

“Yes, yes, leave or be killed, I know,” the god signed, sounding bored by the options. “You’re not the first of the butchers to come here and you won’t be the last.”

“You think I’m like most Godkillers?” Lucien asked.

The god looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time, taking in the left eye made of metal, almost the same shade as the god’s own, the long red hair carefully braided back. Recognition danced across his face, at last garnering a response. The god slowly rose to his feet. 

Lucien ran through his memory of the remaining gods, the long list of names and descriptions he’d been forced to memorize during his years of training at the keep. He’d spent hours on that list, staying up until the early hours of the morning with nothing but a candle pouring over the pages.

“Hello Aristaeus.”

If it was possible for an immortal being to look surprised, Aristaeus did. “I thought your kind destroyed the old records.”

“The keep has a record for our own usage.” The master, Azriel, insisted it was so the Godkillers would know what they were up against, the monstrous gods they faced. Lucien thought it was bullshit. All the gods who’d proved any real danger had long since been driven out, either killed or sent so deep into the wilderness they’d never be found. Which left Lucien fighting those who were too stupid or weak to leave.

No, Lucien thought they kept the records, made novices memorize every single name on them, because there was something profoundly sad about killing a creature who no one remembered. Who would be wiped completely from existence after they died. And even the Godkillers, for all their zeal and devotion, felt enough pity to do that one act of kindness.

Aristaeus spread his arms widely. “Then you know to fear me.”

Lucien choked down his snort. As if anything he was sent to face made him fear. The minor gods were as dangerous as mosquitos, and twice as irritating.

And they were especially irritating to the villages that paid Lucien to dispatch of them, gathering the little spare change they have left over after market day in a communal cup in the tavern until they had enough saved to pay a Godkiller to get rid of the god who took delight in wrecking their harvest or killed one too many of their herd.

Aristaeus apparently had a propensity for sending bees at all hours of the day, attacking festivals, harvests, or children in the little time they were given to play.

Which unfortunately meant he had to die. So Lucien brandished his sword threateningly and advanced a step.

“I’m going to send your pretty head to your brother,” Aristaeus said. “Remind him of how far the prince can fall.”

Lucien arched an eyebrow, the one that wasn’t cut through with the scar that ran down his face from brow to cheek He’d been described as many things in his life, but pretty was not one he’d heard. Not when the metal eye took so much of people’s focus. 

“Eris would probably thank you,” Lucien grumbled.

“Family troubles?” Aristaeus asked, advancing on him, the bees around his head forming a clump. Lucien sensed what was coming a second before, and held up his free hand. Fire flicked at his fingers, smoke trailing from them.

The cloud of bees started to swarm, and Lucien willed the flames higher, the smoke growing thicker. It burned at his eyes and nose, but he kept the flames alight. The bees slowed, circling Lucien but not attacking.

“That’s not fair,” Aristaeus pouted. “Your kind isn’t supposed to have magic.”

“Special allowances were made,” Lucien said, hoisting the sword up and advancing. Understatement of the millennium. “Now yield and leave this place.”

“They used to worship me,” Aristaeus whined. “They would crowd at this temple, pray for their crops to bear fruit, for their fertility.” The bees were fleeing now, trying to escape the heavy smoke still filling the air. “And then they all left me alone, all alone here, and they’re unhappy? The bees are the least of their issues, I should be slaughtering them in their beds.”

“Times change.” Lucien swung the sword, the sharp blade meeting Aristaeus’ neck. The edge that Lucien had so carefully honed that morning sliced through flesh and sinew, severing his head cleanly.

The God didn’t even bleed, just collapsed to the ground before breaking apart into dust. As if he’d never existed at all. Lucien huffed, extinguishing the flames still licking at his fingerprints, and bent down to claim his spoils.

-

The tavern was unusually crowded when Lucien arrived. He was used to a few sad souls, men with nothing better to do than drink the day away, maybe a bar maiden if he was lucky, but today it was teeming. Like the whole town had gathered to see if he’d actually come back.

Lucien lifted the sack he held at his side, dumping its contents on one of the long tables. The head of Aristaeus, the only thing left of the god, tumbled out. The men nearest leapt back, a few retching at the sight.

Lucien snorted. It always surprised him how squeamish farmers could be, seeing what they did to their own animals. Not that presenting heads was his preferred method, but he needed to prove the job was done somehow, and physical evidence was required more often than not.

“I’m owed three talons,” Lucien said, sliding onto the bench in front of the table. “And a cask of ale.”

A mug was placed in front of him, foam nearly flowing over the rim. The deliverer, a man whose hair was more gray than brown slid into the seat across from him. His tunic was slightly finer than those of the rest of the men, his posture straightener. Signs he wore with pride of his town leadership.

Lucien searched his memory trying to find his name. “Grogov,” he said after a second. “I take it you have my coins.”

Grogov’s dark eyes darted around the room, marking a few of the men out. The largest ones. “A few of us were discussing,” he said, “and three talents is a steep price to pay for a day of work.”

“Yet three talons were what you offered, and agreed to.”

Grogov forced out a laugh, the sound strained. “An offer made under duress. Our children were being attacked.”

“They were stung by bees,” Lucien corrected.

“Mothers were hysterical. We felt like we had no other option but to offer something we couldn’t afford to pay.”

“Yet you had the money to print posters,” Lucien said, leaning back in his seat. His hand, the one not wrapped around the handle of the beer mug he had yet to drink from, drifted down to his waist band, and the knife tucked there. “And enough coins to show me when I arrived.”

“Circumstances change,” Grogov said. The men he’d given such significant glances to seemed to advance, forming a loose ring around them. “And I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.”

Lucien’s fingers wrapped around the knife hilt. “An arrangement where you pay me three talents?” 

Another strangled laugh from Grogov. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“One where I’m paid what I’m owed?”

Grogov leaned closer. “There’s always room for debate.” Behind him, one of the men, no doubt the largest in the village, pulled out a sword. The blade was dull, rusted in parts, and Lucien had to keep from snorting at the lack of threat it posed.

“Threatening a Godkiller then?”

“Merely opening the conversation. After all, you’re alone. No companions, no family.”

Lucien hummed, understanding the threat in the words. No one would notice if you were missing, not for a long while anyway. He made a show of debating the idea, furrowing his brow, before leaping out of his seat with speed no human man could hope to match. He threw Grogov against the wall of the tavern, sliding the small knife out of his pocket and holding it against the man’s throat.

“Talk away.”

Grogov swallowed, the movement of his throat pressing the blade into his skin. Blood welled, and his eyes slid to the head still on the table. The village lads, picked for their size, not their bravery, seemed frozen in place.

“I—”

He was saved from talking himself into further danger by the tavern door flying open. Trumpets sounded, the ridiculous jaunt of the Lord of Kouemos. A song far too chipper for a ruler who was, by all accounts, a terror.

Lucien didn’t drop the blade, but did turn his head towards the sound. The messenger lowered the trumpet, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The colors of his costume, the bright red and yellow stripes, were comically amidst the dirt and grime of the tavern. As were the shoulder pads that ballooned around his upper arms, and the tight, short breeches.

 Musicians, Lucien thought to himself.

“I have a message for Lucien Vanserra.”

“Present,” Lucien growled, not moving. He watched the tavern still as they stared at him, tried to square the rough Godkiller threatening the town’s reeve with the stories they’d no doubt heard. Of the gentle noble, his mother’s favorite for his kind heart, so different than that of his brothers.

“I hail from Kousemos,” he said, with a flourishing bow. Lucien tried not to roll his eyes. As if anyone would be able to miss that, based on his, well, everything. A bunch of ostentatious self righteous pricks they were. “You’ve been summoned by our fearless, magnanimous, kind—”

“Get one with it,” Lucien interrupted.

The messenger cleared his throat. “Our leader requests your presence.”

“Will he pay?”

“Most assuredly, anything you may ask for. Our leader is well known for being generous, the most generous—”

“Yes fine,” Lucien sighed. He pressed Grogov closer to the wall. “Just as soon as this one pays up.”

Grogov reached a trembling hand into his pocket, pulling out the three gold coins Lucien was after. Apparently matters were much less up for debate now. Lucien snatched the coins, before lowering the knife. He cast a mournful glance at his ale, still untouched and gestured for the messenger to lead the way out of the tavern.

Shockingly, his horse was still where he’d left it, tied to the post in front of the stable. “Sorry for the delay, Tam,” Lucien said, stroking his roan mane once before pulling himself up into the saddle.

“My lord,” the messenger said, running after him. The shoulder pads flapped dramatically up and down, and Lucien bit down on his tongue to hold in his laughter. “I insist upon accompanying you.”

“It’s Lucien.” He hadn’t been called Lord in a long, long time. “And you’ll just slow me down.”

“I insist,” the messenger said. “My orders demand it.”

Lucien nodded. “And what’s your name?”

“Hart, sir.” He gave another little bow of flourish.

“Hart, who gave you this order?”

“The reeve of Kousemos,” he said proudly.

Lucien smiled, one of the slow, sarcastic ones he’d all but mastered. “Then I, Lord Lucien, outrank him, yes.”

Hart blinked. “Well, I—”

“So I order that I ride alone.” And with that, Lucien nudged Tamlin on, the horse starting off at a brisk trot, leaving Hart standing in front of the stable, a bright spot against the dusty ground.

-

Kouemos had changed since he’d last come. Sure, the buildings were the same, small shacks lining the one street leading up to the large manor house. But it was like the air was different, hung thick with the raw, almost bitter, taste of power. The town seemed to hum, getting fuzzy around the edges. The colors were too bright, the green of the plants a brilliant emerald that he’d only seen on the tapestries his mother liked to sew with her ladies.

Lucien shifted uneasily in the saddle. Even Tamlin seemed uncomfortable, his ears held back, muscles tensed.

“It’s fine,” Lucien said, not sure if he was talking to himself or the horse. His voice seemed to echo, the world far too quiet. Tam’s hooves drummed against the cobblestones in the silence, alerting anyone who was waiting for them. Here we are. Lucien peered at the small houses, expecting to see dirty faces pressed against the windows, but there were none.

In fact, there were no people anywhere, not in the streets, not manning the few carts that dotted the side of the road. They looked haphazard in their placement, as if the owner had just dumped them wherever he stood and walked away.

The magic in the air only seemed to grow stronger as he got closer to the manor house, the colors around him brighter. Flowers bloomed from window boxes, overflowing their containers and spilling onto the ground. The hue almost burned at his eye, too bright for any human to take in.

The gates to the house were left wide open and unguarded, inviting anyone who wanted to to enter. Lucien swung himself off Tamlin’s back. A trap, certainly, but one he was too curious not to enter. “Stay here,” he told the horse. Tamlin shuffled his hooves uncomfortably.

Lucien pulled out one of the twin blades he’d strapped on his back, brandishing it high as he walked through the entrance.

If Lucien thought the town had been bright, it was nothing compared to inside the gates. Vines crawled over the ground, blossoms peeking through anywhere they could get sunlight, crowding against one another. Fruit hung from branches, apples in the same bunches as oranges, pressed next to plums.

Lucien plucked one, biting into it. Juice gushed down his chin, too much to be contained in any normal fruit. He spat it out quickly, throwing the plum away from him. Where it hit the ground, it instantly started sprouting, green pushing through the pit and reaching up towards the sky.

He shoved through the vines, trying to wade towards the house’s entrance. He slashed at the growth, but it seemed to grow back faster than he could beat it back.

By the time he made it to the entrance he was dripping in sweat, thick rivulets streaming down his forehead. His tunic stuck to his skin, the white linen practically see through it was so damp.

Lucien pounded on the door with his fist, and it flew open.

“Greetings, Lord Lucien,” the man said brightly, utterly unfazed by Lucien’s dishevelment. Or the sharp blades in his hands. He wore the same garish costume as the messenger, the colors making his features look washed out, plain. “The town reeve is waiting for you.”

“I heard.”

“Good, good,” the man said, stepping back. His eyes were unfocused, looking through Lucien. “I’ll take you right there.” He turned mechanically, leading  Lucien through the halls. His motions were jerky, slow, like he wasn’t in control of his own body.

The rest of the house seemed to be in a similar daze. Lucien cocked his head as a maid carrying a bucket full of flowers almost slammed into him. Like she didn’t even notice he was there. Her dress was far too nice for her station, a tick velvet brocade that would be more fitting among a lady’s ball gowns. And far nicer than anything anyone in Kouemos had ever owned.

Lucien followed the man through the lower floor and up a side staircase, although he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly where they were going. Sure enough, they came to a stop in the middle of a long hallway, facing the middle of three doors in it.

“The reeve will be so excited to see you.”

Lucien smiled wryly. “Of that I’m sure.”

The door flew open without either of them touching it, opening up to a darkly lit chamber. Lucien strode in, a rough smile still on his face.

The room was utterly barren except for a single bed in the middle of the room, and the woman lounging on it.

She was stunning, gold hair floating around her shoulders in soft curls. Same soft pink dresses she always seemed to wear, same heart shaped face peering up at him. Lucien wracked his brain trying to remember the last time he’d seen her. Two years ago? Three? Big brown eyes met his, and Lucien saw the amusement flickering in their depths, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Godkiller,” she said, the single word somehow managing to sound melodic on her tongue.

“Hello wife.”

[maxivstappen]

Heyy I need serious advice, I think my teacher is trying to groom me and idk what to do. Like he started out asking what I use on my hair to make it smell good and then for a party I used a red dress that was really tight and had a slit and he texted me (idk where he got my number ) “red is now my favorite color” bc he saw a picture of it in my friends story. On Thursday I was practicing for an event in my school so when I came back the rest of the class was doing something in the lab and I didn’t wanna do that so I went to the classroom and as I’m walking I pass that teacher but I ignore it and keep waking but then I feel like I’m being followed so when I turn the corner I run and enter the classroom where there is only one person and she’s one of my teachers and 5 secs later the creepy teacher comes in and he knew the classroom would be empty bc his classroom is next to the lab and it’s impossible for him not to have seen my classmates. Like 2 minutes after my friend comes. Anyways the event I told you about, the outfits were very revealing so my friend started like complaining about them bc it was a short skirt (very short like upper thigh showing booty type short) and an almost see through crop top and he overheard that so the next day he saw me at the practice for the event and I was Early so I was alone and he asked me how the outfit fit me and I was like “it’s okay hahaha” bc I’m uncomfortable but I still have this thing where I’m too nice to everyone and after I said that I left and then he texted me “I can’t wait to see you in the outfit of the event 🥴” and I stared at it in shock for a min but then he deleted it so I couldn’t take a ss and then I got bored so I answered him (I know it’s wrong but still) but I told him that they changed it and he said “I wanted to see you in that dress 🙁” and then he said he texted me like “sometimes it scares me to text you” and then i asked him why bc at this point I wanna gather evidence to sue him or smth and he said something Iike i don’t want something to be misinterpreted so if I text you something will you delete it and I said o yes bc im obviously not going to delete him and I guess I took to long to answer when he asked if I was alone bc he said that he would tell me in person and now I’m scared of being alone in school, my friends know but they can’t be with be 24/7 even though they try not to leave me alone. But my conflict comes when I don’t know if I want to tell on him to the authorities or not like what if some other girl falls for this? He’s like 40 btw and is everyone’s favorite teacher but also it’s a ONG legal battle (probably) and I don’t wanna gather more evidence bc it’s giving me the ick now that reality has settled in and also I’m scared of telling my dad and I just don’t know what to do. For reference he’s in his 40s and I’m still a minor. But Also I’m worried that they would read the texts and be Ike “she’s flirting back, she wanted it” bc like I told you I have this thing where I’m very polite and the thing is where I’m from the age of consent is 14 and I’m well over that age.

This is crazy girl I hope you’re okay!!

despite you being over the age of consent I think it’s inappropriate and maybe even illegal anyway? i obv don’t know where you live but in Germany your teacher would very much get fired IMMEDIATELY

you feel unsafe so please, even if you don’t want to, talk to your dad or the principal or another teacher BECAUSE THAT IS NOTTTT OKAY

And im pretty sure even if your replies to him would seem like you’re flirting back THATS TOTALLY IRRELEVANT BECAUSE HES YOUR TEACHER that mad should NOT text you and even less he should be sending messages like that

please stay safe and talk to someone!!

if you want to talk to me more about to be scared to send me a dm or another ask but please girl do something 😭 the whole situation is so scary

[happy-chappy-steam-train]

Don’t you wanna go racing with the fastest engine, in the world?!

————————————-

Blog info!

🚂 - This is an rp blog all about Rusty from the Second UK Tour! (2012-2013) this specific Rusty has a special place in my heart, even though I never got to see him live. So if this Rusty is different from others, that’s entirely why lol.

🚂 - my main account is [ @rustys-side-coach ]! I really just lied abt not making this one later I’m just really bored. But yes, I post Rusty over there so,,

🚂 - im open to rping with anyone! Idrc but if you’re rude ooc I think I’ll have to ehm,,let you go unfortunately..

🚂 - this blog is both nsfw and SFW, really I’m open to anything if it isn’t like really weird..

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Rules!

🚂 - once again, I am open to nsfw stuff, I’m gonna say that straight up. Dark subjects such as train gore, murder, and well,,having mental breaks are things im up to rp for! Im also up for the sexual stuff as well,, don’t be afraid 🫡

🚂 - I open to any and all ships. I don’t care how crackshipy it may be, if you wanna go for my Rusty go for it! I’m sure she won’t mind it lmao

🚂 - if you have something in mind, don’t be afraid to dm me! It really could be angst, fluff, smut, whatever!I don’t mind lol. But if it’s plot we can work on it together!

🚂 - be patient with me, this is really my first time trying something like this, so please don’t get frustrated or discouraged by my dumbass self lol

🚂 - I welcome all productions! Post 2018, pre-2018, London and all the productions in the sea, I don’t mind! And I also don’t mind oc’s!

🚂 - nsfw stuff,will be in the read more of my tumblr threads, or reblogs and it’ll also be in the dm’s of my Discord! (Or in a hidden thread over in a rp server.)

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I will be making a Carrd or notion specifically for my Rusty rp, so my bio won’t be complete until then, but when I do finish it, I’ll link it under here.

[softplushiee]

RONIN X VIVIENNE (OC)

cw: character death (ronin), vivienne being weird ??, spoilers for ronin’s bad end, quick talk about suicide (it’s one line), blood, hurt no comfort, murder (duh)

—

Ronin ruined them.

He ruined them, he ruined them, he ruined them.

That damned bastard.

Though, as Vivienne looked down at Ronin’s body, mangled and bloodied up, they couldn't help but think that maybe they were already ruined.

It was an ugly sight, his body. Ronin still had that stupid grin on his face even in death. Vivienne crouched down where the dead body was propped and took the devil man’s face into their hands, their yellow eyes gazing into his dead ones.

Vivienne closed their eyes and closed the distance between their faces, they pretended that he was kissing them back.

They pulled away, tasting blood on their lips. His blood.

It was addictive.

They stood up straight, looking down on Ronin before looking at the knife that they used to kill him. The knife that he gave them to kill him.

Vivienne raised the knife up to their face. They gazed at it for a moment, looking at the blood that dirtied it. Ronin’s blood.

They felt a strange urge to lick the knife clean. The crimson fluid called to them. Vivienne hesitantly dragged their tongue across the knife, cringing at the metallic taste. Obviously, the blood tasted horrible but the taste was strangely addictive.

Maybe it was because it was his.

Soon the knife was licked clean. Vivienne felt dirty. Whether from killing a man or licking a blood-covered knife clean they don’t know.

They slid the knife into their back pocket and gave Ronin’s pathetic body one last glance before hurriedly exiting the alleyway.

They guess they’re on their way to officially becoming a serial killer now.

–

Vivienne planned to take a shower when they got home to scrub all the filth away but something compelled them to go to their computer.

They logged on and opened Discord, just in time to see a notification pop up in the announcement channel.

They didn’t bother opening up and reading the article. ‘Huh, just a few minutes after he was murdered they found his body. If I stayed there any longer I would’ve been caught.” Vivienne thought to themself. Maybe rotting in jail is what they deserved.

What really stuck out to them about the announcement was that Ronin was labeled their lover.

They didn’t have enough time to think about it because not even a minute later, they received a DM from Angel.

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘Explain yourself. Right now.’

They couldn’t bring themself to properly reply, feeling numb. Angel was rightfully angry, she sent two more replies before finally sending ‘I’m gonna kill you.’

Vivienne stared at the promise for a moment. They imagined that they would be the one to take their life in the end but it seems fate has other plans.

They were shocked out of their daze when they received a message from the very man they slaughtered.

They clicked off of Angel’s message log and clicked on ‘goreboy’.

‘hey baby how are you Doing’

‘i’ve missed you so much’

Vivienne knows that it was futile but they hope that maybe, just maybe, Ronin was alive. Like they didn’t see the life drain from his eyes as blood poured out of his body. His stupid grin haunted their mind.

‘Aren’t you dead??’ They quickly typed out.

‘yes Baby i am!’

‘i’m so fucking Proud of ya’ Seeing that, Vivienne felt a pang in their heart.

They asked how he was doing this, sending messages even though he’s supposed to be dead.

‘well i Anticipated some of your Questions with Keywords’

‘you’re kinda Predictable.’ Vivienne furrowed their eyebrows.

‘but Hey if you’re bored you get to Ask Me Anything!’

They sighed. Well, they might as well kill time until Angel kills them.

‘You’re insane’ They sent and waited for the Ronin bot (?) to reply.

‘im so fucking Psycho i know’

‘but that’s the Butcher for ya baby!!’ Vivienne huffed, Ronin really captured his stupidity in this thing.

Vivienne had a grin on their face, albeit sad. They decided that there wasn’t much harm in talking to the ‘fake’ Ronin until they reunite with the actual Ronin in hell.

—

A/N: put the rotten tomatoes away !! i promise i’ll write something better for killer chat soon maybe

[just-somedude]

Oh look, you’ve discovered my praise kink. However could you have possibly guessed.

Thank you very much, sir.

If you respond favorably to this, expect me in your dms the next day. I still need a distraction.

My turn to be on top, sir. You’re sitting on a chair, a bored, cocky, smug expression on your face. You’re shirtless and your pants are unbuttoned and your wonderfully thick thighs are straining against the seams. I’m standing in front of you in a low-cut, very short white dress that hangs to just below the curve of my ass.

“Look at you, you pretty little slut,” you say mockingly. “You wore exactly what I told you to. Such a good girl.” I walk up to you and kneel in front of you. The hem of the dress is dangerously high on my thighs.

“Sir, I have a surprise for you,” I murmur and my hands come up to rest on your thighs, rubbing circles over the fabric. “Can I take your cock out?” Your eyes darken and you tilt my chin up gently and I blink at you, pleading silently.

“Of course you can, pretty girl. Since you asked so nicely.”

I run my hands up your legs and pull your waistband down until your cock appears, and it’s so fucking hard, and I hum in appreciation as I stroke it once, twice with my hand. I rise to my feet and look at you shyly. “Sir, I… I’m not quite ready. Can I- can we… will you give me your fingers?”

You nod. “Of course I can, pretty girl. Take your panties off and come sit on my lap,” you order. I loop my arms around your neck and I sling one leg over you, then the other, and you feel my bare, dripping cunt brush over your cock as I lean in, a wicked smile on my face. My lips brush your skin as I whisper in your ear.

“That’s the surprise, sir. I’m not wearing any.” I pull back, arms still hanging around your neck. I bite my lip and look you in the eyes and I see just how turned on you are. You drop your hands to my legs and slide them up, catching the hem of my dress and slowly revealing my glistening folds sitting on your cock. You don’t say anything, you just stare. I bite my lip nervously. “I… do you not like it, sir?” Your hand slides between my legs excruciatingly slowly, and you’re still silent, and I can’t read the expression on your face.

I jerk and gasp as two of your fingers thrust into me unexpectedly. “You did this for me, sweet thing?” You growl, thrusting your fingers again. I whimper and nod and bite my lip again. You lean towards me and kiss me once, harshly, desperately, before you pull back and fuck your fingers into me, deep and firm and slow. “Of course I like it my little thing, but it’s very naughty of you.” Your fingers move faster, opening me up for you. I whine softly, meeting each thrust of your fingers with my hips. “Look at you, my pretty little slut. Is this what you wanted? You want me to play with you? Want me to stretch you so you can take my big cock?” You pull your fingers out of me and I gasp and my eyes fly open.

“No, no, please sir, please keep going, please,” I plead, my hips still seeking out your fingers.

“Are you sure?” You smirk at me.

“Yeah, yes mmhmm, please,” I nod my head frantically.

“Can you take three?” You run your fingers through my slick folds.

“Wait, no… sir…” I bite my lip.

“You can take it, right? You’re gonna be a good little slut for me, yeah? Take my fingers, take my cock so well?” You pinch my nipples and I jolt.

“Sir… No, no I-” I squeeze my eyes shut.

You stop. “What color?”

“I…” I look at you, dazed.

“What. Color.”

“Green, sir,” I whisper.

You grin and push three fingers into my cunt. You start slowly but before long you’re fucking me so good and you’re stretching me out and I’m moaning and gasping and I’m so ready for you.

“Look at you. My filthy little fucktoy. Mine. That’s it, there you go, good girl.” You pull your fingers out. “Put my cock inside you. You want it? You have to do the work, pretty little slut. That’s it, feel the tip push against you, keep going, you’re going to take all of me.”

I sink all the way onto your cock with a breathless moan. You lean back in the chair and your arms drop to your sides. I whimper and rock my hips. You look at me with a sadistic grin on your face. You’re not going to do anything yet. It’s all up to me. I rise onto my knees and then lower myself again, feeling how much you fill me. With small groans and sighs I keep moving up and down, up and down, my hands resting on your wide, firm chest for balance. I’m whining and shaking a little and I’m so fucking soaked for you and one hand sneaks down to rub my clit frantically.

“Aw, do you want to come, pretty girl?” You coo. “Keep fucking yourself on my cock and I’ll make you come so hard you see stars.” I moan at the order, desperate for your help and your approval. I’m bouncing faster on your cock when your hands suddenly grab my waist and hold me up so you can thrust into me rapidly. You’re grunting and moaning and your eyes are shut in pleasure and oh you look so good like this, so weak, so desperate for me, but still completely in charge, fucking my brains out as both of us get closer and closer to coming.

I clench around you and throw my head back as my orgasm hits. You keep fucking me through it and I shudder from the sensation. Then you push me off of you. I kneel in front of you so we can both watch your cum spill all over my tits. They’re glistening and you grab them and grope them and I’m panting below you, mesmerized by the sticky, satisfied mess we’ve made of each other.

-your writer anon

I forgot about the writer anon, that was a mistake. Look at this shit its so good