#it gives me so much inspiration and ideas

[fushitoru]

seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I��m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene." 

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in. 

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers. 

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!” 

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up. 

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under. 

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck. 

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry 

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless. 

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table. 

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond. 

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?” 

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage. 

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[tossawary]

General info: as far as I'm concerned, all of my fic ideas posted here are up for grabs.

Most of them, I'm never going to get around to writing, unfortunately, because I don't have the time, and even if I do write some out, I'm not going to object to someone else giving their own take. I very much subscribe to the "HOLY SHIT, TWO CAKES!" philosophy for fandom: more treats in more flavors is good.

Guidelines (as far as I can set conditions when I can't actually stop anyone): 1) If you get around to posting anything for this fic idea, I would appreciate being informed when you do. I may lose the notification because my brain is soup when I'm tired, so you can always message me again asking for a signal boost or something. I won't promise to read any fanfiction, because I may still be working on my own thing, but I still like being told.

2) I would also appreciate a shout-out, like an acknowledgement in the author's notes, for the inspiration, especially for very specific ideas with many details that get used. If you're going as far as to use dialogue that I wrote, then I would prefer a link to the original post / fic as well as a shout-out.

3) If I do decide to write out the fic idea someday, you have to be cool with there being two takes on it. We're not competing. No two people are going to have the same interpretation of a premise, which is great, when different fans are looking for different things. I'll probably be happy to link our works together. And if I am inspired by your work directly, if I do read it, then I will credit you for it, of course.

I am also fine with it if people write fanfiction of my fanfiction. If you write fanfiction of my fanfiction and say, "This fic sucked, I made it better," then it will hurt my feelings and I will probably block you, but I'm still not going to, like, ever try to set my followers on anyone. If you write out my fic ideas and you make any characterization or plot choices that are not to my taste, then I am going to go, "Oh, well, I hope they're having fun," and then get on with my day. If I somehow find out that you wrote my fic idea or fanfic for my fanfic and never told me about it, then I'm probably going to go, "Fair enough, I also generally prefer that authors do not acknowledge my existence," and it will not be a big deal.

So, go for it! Someone might as well try writing it and have fun with it, if I'm not going to, and also even if I do. ❤️

[sweetprfct]

Bookshop Conversations

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: A meet-cute with Joe at a bookshop cafe was something you didn't expect. Being a lone wolf for a year now and still being haunted by your past, could you open up your door for him and give love another chance?

Author's Note: I have been staring at a blank page for more than a couple of months, almost every day. Wrote unfinished one shots and series and then scrap it up and toss it in the bin. Been going through a really dark time personally (and still is). Events of the last few days after election didn't help either. Writing is art and art always gets me through a tough time, so that's why I'm here. I haven't been updated to any news in this fandom, and I plan to stay that way. I plan on coming here and publishing and interacting through DMs and ask box about positive stuff about my fics only. This idea appeared just a couple days ago, and it started igniting back some inspiration. Am I back? The answer is: I don't know. I'm taking it slow. Let's take it slow, okay? So, here's a new short series. I've missed some of you, and I hope you enjoy this because I'm winging it with no plot notes. LMAO.

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 1.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The soft pitter patter of the rain hit the wet, glowing pavement outside. Cars passed by from time to time and people walked down the streets, holding their umbrellas above their heads. There was something about this weather that made you feel warm on the inside. Most people would feel doleful with this kind of weather, but not you. It filled you with a warm feeling that it would pool in your stomach, almost bursting and invading your veins. 

It felt peaceful. 

This cute bookshop cafe that stood on the corner of your street was the only place that made you feel safe lately. Autumn season was starting, and the trees were turning into their orange and yellow hues, surrounding the city of London. The string of light bulbs that hung around the bookshop cafe and the dark wooden shelves made the place feel cozy. It was almost like you were stepping into another world when you entered this place. 

Claire De Lune was playing in a low volume around the shop as you picked up your cappuccino and took a sip. You have been sitting at the small table beside the window for about an hour now. Your head had been stuck in your book, your focus totally disappearing from the world around you as you indulged in a different universe. 

Moving to London was something you had been thinking about for several years now and, knowing the fact that you finally made it, you couldn’t help but feel at ease. The troubles you left behind in California seemed so far away now, even if it still lived in the back of your mind. There were certain things that you still thought about, still feel the pain from the experiences, but you pushed it away. Something you seemed to be an expert on lately. 

This place has been a peaceful solitude for you. It was quiet enough for you to enjoy the peace whilst reading your book, but also enough crowds for you to not be able to drown in your own deep thoughts, unlike when you were all alone in your flat. 

“New book?” 

You had paused from your reading and had been watching the raindrops roll down the glass window, letting your brain play the game of which raindrop was going to roll down first. Turning your attention away from the window, you looked up to see Sara, the owner of the bookshop cafe. Her light brunette hair was in a ponytail today, hazel eyes twinkling in curiosity. She was wearing her usual apron, while carrying a coffeepot in her hand. 

“Um… yeah. Just got it the other day.” You smiled softly. 

As much as you and Sara had a lot in common and actually had pretty good, interesting conversations, you couldn’t help but distance yourself from her. She was always kind, and her eyes always twinkled with sincerity. It wasn’t like she was the problem. It was you. You had closed yourself off too much from other people, especially strangers. As much as you would love to be friends, there was a part of you that kept hesitating. 

Sara tilted her head and squinted her eyes towards the title of the book you were holding. 

“Oh, Little Women.” She smiled. “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah.” You gazed down at the book cover before looking back up at her. “I have never read the book. Thought I should finally do it this time.”

Sara nodded her head in agreement. Just right before she could say something else, Sara's attention turned to the front door when it opened. 

Both of your eyes caught a man with curly brown hair walking in. He was wearing a navy trench coat and carrying an umbrella. The cold breeze trailed behind him, blowing it through your hair. Sara immediately walked up towards him with a smile. You watched as she greeted him kindly and asked if there was something she could help him with. 

You couldn’t help but reel in the sight of him the moment he gave her a soft smile. From the two months of you hanging out in this shop, you have never seen someone so alluring walking into the shop before. Your eyes were glued to him, and you couldn’t seem to peel them away. 

“Thank you.” He murmured to Sara before disappearing between the tall bookshelves. 

Looking away, you cleared your throat and felt your cheeks ignite as you tried to focus your attention back on your book. You picked up your cappuccino and took another sip when you caught sight of him again when he passed by in front of you. You looked at him through your lashes until you realized how ridiculous you must look in front of him. 

His chocolate button eyes immediately caught yours, making you glance away from him instantly. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato at this point as you set your cup down on the table and focused on the book you were reading. There were a million thoughts running through your mind, cursing yourself for being so weird. He must have thought you were strange for staring at him since the moment he entered the shop. 

From the corner of your eye, you could tell he was smirking slightly as he looked through the books in front of him. Your eyes studied the shop and there were only a couple of people hanging around, looking through the books or sipping coffee and reading their books. You couldn't help but curse at yourself mentally again for bringing so much attention to yourself in front of him. 

You hated the attention, and you certainly didn’t need a stranger’s attention when all you wanted was to enjoy your book and mind your own business. 

“That’s a classic.” He interrupted your thoughts.

You just now realized that you have been reading the same line in the book repeatedly because your mind was distracted by him. When you slowly gazed up at him, you saw a kind, soft smile tugging on his lips, and you swore you felt your knees went slightly weak. 

“So, I’ve heard.” You replied, giving him a slight smile back. 

There was no going back now. 

Now that he was standing near to you, you could see the freckles on his face and his long lashes fluttering softly. A strand of curl fell perfectly on his forehead and little drops of water from the rain covered his trench coat.

Your eyes fell on the book he was holding before biting your lower lip. You have read that book because Sara had recommended it to you before, and you knew what was the text behind it. It sure made you glad that he wasn’t afraid to read things like that. The man glanced down at the book he was holding before snickering.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, biting down your inner cheek to stop yourself from smiling. It wasn’t like the book was all… sex. It was about finding yourself and knowing what you want. Although, knowing the people you had before in your life, they certainly judged you for reading something like that. So, you couldn’t help but have that glued to your brain that maybe those kinds of books weren’t really everyone’s cup of tea. 

“Nothing wrong with a little… erotica.” You murmured before he chuckled softly. 

“I think it’s sexy.” He gave you a small smirk, studying the cover page of the book. “I’m assuming you read it before?”

“Um… maybe.” You gave him a playful smile.

He hummed approvingly, “So, tell me… Is it really just about… sex?”

He squinted his eyes at you, and you could tell he was teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you marked the page that you were reading and closed the book. 

“No, it’s about the characters finding themselves and how intimacy can be in different ways other than just physical. I don’t want to spoil too much for you, though.” 

He stared at the book cover again and nodded in agreement.

“I guess I’ll just have to give back a review when I finish it.” Smiling, his eyes studied you for a moment before walking away. 

What did he mean by that? 

You stopped yourself from getting up from your seat as he made his way towards the coffee counter. It was rare for you to encounter certain people that pull your gravity towards them. The moment he entered the shop, you felt that pull already. That micro conversation that you both just had, you already felt the spark between you two. 

Letting out a small sigh, you pushed the thoughts away and told yourself that he was just a stranger. 

A stranger with a nice smile. 

For a few minutes, you went back to indulging yourself in your book, finishing your cappuccino before you heard the front door open. Feeling the breeze through your hair again, you glanced up to find him giving you a warm smile before walking out the door. 

Accepting it, you knew it was one of those rare occasions where you would meet someone interesting and lose them forever. It wasn’t like you were interested in meeting somebody these days, but sometimes, you couldn’t help but think that it would be nice too to have a small meet-cute in a bookshop.

God, you have been reading too many books lately. It was getting in your head.

“Seems like someone has taken an interest in you.” Sara smiled, placing an apple turnover on a plate for you. 

“I didn’t order this.” You shook your head, pushing the plate towards her lightly.

“Someone did for you.” Sara winked. 

You turned your head to the side, side eyeing her before Sara chuckled softly at your reaction. 

“That cute man just asked if you were a regular customer here.” Sara explained. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give out any details. Though he insisted on at least getting you a pastry.”

Staring at the apple turnover that was in front of you, you bit back a smile before looking out the window. He was gone, and you didn’t even get the chance to thank him. 

You couldn’t help but wonder why he did such a gesture. 

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @reoalessandra

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…and how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? nOh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me…you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

I'd like to thank @faiszt for inspiring me to write this fic!

[littlemissmiller]

Bird in a Cage

Part 4: Under His Spell

Pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: You’ve been Coriolanus’s guest for a while now, yet you still feel drawn to him rather than wanting to escape. One evening after you express how much you miss your family, Coriolanus decides to get your mind off things and shows off his lab.

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: 21+ (use of drugs), mentions of smut, non-con, degeneration, nicknames(slut, good girl), mentions of oral (f! receiving), use of aphrodisiacs, stalking, possession, dark themes, toxic themes, kidnapping

A/N: omg…I can’t believe i’m back to posting. i can’t believe y’all are still reading and some have been waiting a while for an update on anything so…here. this series is will be finished first before i get to Summer Highs and everything else i promised. it’s been such a struggle since i last put anything out, and im still working on feeling mentally better, but i do want to get back into writing. i hope you guys enjoy this and my suggestions are still open. i’m also welcoming any ideas for Summer Highs or a Joel fic and i may start writing for Nicholas Alexander Chavez 👀 so stayed tuned ♥︎

P.S. this was inspired by the Michael’s crafts white Halloween decor so iykyk

Series Masterlist

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After that morning, you felt different. Different about him and to a certain extent, the circumstances that brought you here.

Over the next two weeks, you slowly give up on your plans to escape. Seeing as you were under constant guard and his own watchful eye, escape felt impossible and eventually your family had been told that President Snow was hosting people near his palace as The Games approach. And somehow his web of lies worked. You still hadn’t seen them and you were starting to miss them dearly.

Coriolanus notices and does his absolute best to distract you. He sets up modeling gigs for you during most of the week, then he starts to pamper you. Every night treating you to the most scrumptious meals and the most relaxing baths. He starts to dress you more often, making sure to adorn you in the finest silk, cashmere, cotton and jewelry Panem has. He makes sure you get plenty of sleep and makes sure that the modeling gigs keep you front and center in the fashion magazines. This is all you could have dreamed of. You fall under his spell, yet the idea of freedom lingers in your mind. At the same time, it seems to miraculously fade away the moment he lays you down on his bed. In addition to luxurious treatment, Coriolanus knew how to take a woman to bed. His tongue was a drug, his mouth, a vice. He would lay you on your back, spread your legs and spend hours pleasing you. He loves your taste. Slightly bitter, but oh so sweet. He would take his time, dancing his tongue against your folds and diving into your cunt. He loves to make you moan and squeal.

Coriolanus always makes sure you let it out. He wants the whole palace to hear how good he makes you feel. He would hold you down, sometimes tie your wrists to the bed. He loves the power he holds over you, and loves seeing you bare on his bed. And you were starting to look forward to him inviting you into his room every evening. Your core was always throbbing for him, wanting to feel his full length buried deep inside you. He loved to feel your tight warmth, he loved how you clenched and gripped him. He loved how your face scrunched up, distorted from feeling so good. He would sometimes plunge a finger or two into your mouth, making you suck on them while he picks up the pace. His hips slamming into you as he commanded you to degrade yourself.

“Tell me you’re a good little slut.”

“I’m a good little slut, sir.”

He liked when you called him that. Even though he told you to call him Coriolanus, in the bedroom he required Mr. President or Sir.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“Your cock feels so good Mr. President. So so good”

“Good girl”

One night at dinner, you stare thoughtfully at the young blonde and take small sips of your Gazpacho. Coriolanus notices and stops eating. You raise and eyebrow at him.

“Sir…?” You question. He looks up at you. “Coriolanus.” You correct yourself and he smiles

“What’s wrong my dear?”

“N-n-nothing is wrong. I just have something on my mind”

“Well…tell me.” He demands

“It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve seen my family…I’ve been missing them.”

“I bet you have, but my darling…” he holds out his hand and you take it “Not quite yet…” he tells you, giving you a playful smile.

“When though…I feel like they must be worried about me and I just want- “

Coriolanus’s face drops and he gives you a stern look, squeezing your hand. You whine at the pain.

“Watch it, my dear…you are getting ahead of yourself now. You have been so good for me. Do not mess it up.”

“But I just want- “

“It’s not about what you want. Don’t you understand?”

Your heart sinks and eyes well with tears. You want to cry but won’t in front of him. You won’t show that weakness. You collect yourself quickly and nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll be able to see them again. When I think you’re ready. Am I clear?”

You nod your head and look down in your lap. He clears his throat, and you look back up at him.

“I said, am I clear?”

“Yes sir” you quip up.

“Good girl. I have something to show you after dinner.”

“I look forward to it” you tremble slightly as you say it.

After dinner, he stands up and walks next to you, holding out his hand.

“I want you to follow me.”

You nod and obey. He holds your hand, guides you up and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a silk black blindfold and smiles. Without a word, you turn around and he places it over your eyes.

“I’ve noticed how your eyes wander whenever we walk through the palace. I’ve seen eyes like that before. And they always leave me. Or try to. I’m not ready to let you go quite yet and I really don’t want to have to punish you if you have any ideas.”

“I-“

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I can tell you’re wanting to settle in. But I see your eyes. And how they linger and plot.”

“I-I’m sorry…it’s just my family, my life, everything has slipped away from me.”

Then you feel his firm grip wrap under your chin. He pulls you against his chest and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He places a delicate kiss under your chin then whispers in your ear.

“My darling, I know you surely miss the life you had, but have I not shown you enough of what this life offers. Are you not satisfied with what I’ve given you? What more I could give. I’ll always take care of you. Don’t you want that?”

You sigh and nod almost unconsciously. You’re completely under his trance.

“Good. Now come with me.”

He takes your hand, guiding you through the palace. You intensely listen to the clapping of your collective footsteps as you pace down the hall. After a few moments the air grows cold and quiet. You hear an old iron door creek open, then slam shut as you both walk inside. Coriolanus steps behind you and takes off your blindfold. You blink and look around. The room is ghostly white, as if it’s been draped in old sheets. A chill crawls down your spine and Coriolanus soaks in your look of terror and confusion. As you look around the room, you notice a variety of statues and decor. It almost looks like it could be a dungeon or a crypt.

“What is this place?”

“This is my lab. I’m quite fond of experimenting.”

“Experimenting?”

“A habit from my school days. I used to study under Dr. Volumnia Gaul. She would always have something new she was working on. Especially during the Hunger Games season.”

“Oh-“ you gasp

He pauses and watches you as you walk around the room. You are immediately drawn to the back where a tall statue of a woman sitting, draped in a veil, and holding a skull. You recognize the stone as marble, feeling haunted by its stillness. At the base lies a bouquet of faded pink flowers, not quite as white as the ones in the garden. These flowers almost look dead, but still have a bit of life left. Next to her, a row of glass cabinets. You glance at them and inside is a variety of test tubes, flasks, and cylinders. Upon a closer look, some of the test tubes are filled up with what appears to be crystals, rocks, some mushrooms, butterfly wings, spider legs, and other dead bugs. You grimace and look away. Next to the tubes are a variety of silver tools hung up on the wall. A variety of scissors, knives, and scapulas, which are all polished and reflect back at you.

You turn around and look at the other side of the room. Another statue stands tall. Another veiled woman, like a bride, holding out her own stone bouquet. At her base, a skull with a snake weaving out of the eye socket and through the mouth. Feeling slightly terrified, you look away and immediately your eyes fall upon the shelves littered with small animal bones, skulls, more jars of dead insects, gems, jewelry, and coins. Everything seems to have its place. Then you glance over to Coriolanus, standing as still as the statues. He watches you intensely with a sly smile across his face.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Without a word, he walks over to one of his glass cases and opens it. He pulls out a small vial filled with a dark red liquid.

“I have a new concoction. I made my first sample yesterday.” He holds the vial up delicately in his hand.

Your eyes widen and you give him a puzzling look.

“What is it?”

“Well based on the ingredients, a wave of euphoria, a calming sensation throughout your whole body. Similar to the chocolate I gave you, but more long lasting and with a bit more visuals…”

“Visuals?” You question

“Yes, normal everyday things may look more interesting, more intense. You’ll be fine of course. I’ll be hear, watching after you.”

“W-why do you want me to try?”

“Because, I think you’d like this. It heightens your sensations in a way I think will be good for you….”

“So you’re using me as a test subject.”

“No. I always try it on myself first if I can, and then…I like to share.”

“And what happens if I say…no…” you hesitate

He looks at you with confusion, striding over to you. His eyes never leave your own as a chill creeps down your spine. He pauses, his face inches away from your own. He tucks a hair behind your ear and kisses you gently. He pulls back, hand caressing your chin.

“Then you say no…” he kisses you again quickly. He holds the vial up to you, looking at it like it’s a delicious treat. You look at him then the vial. In a moment of pure impulse, you take it from his fingers. He abruptly turns to face you, and you make full eye contact with him, sipping the red liquid. The taste is so strong, and warm. As it slides down your throat it almost burns your esophagus like acid and you hold back a cough. He gazes upon you in awe, smirking at you, eyeing you

“Good girl”

“H-how long until the effects kick in?”

“About thirty to forty five minutes. We will stay here for now.”

You nod and slowly lean into his lips. This time you kiss him. It’s slow, graceful, and unexpected. Coriolanus revels in it, he loves that you are starting to love him back. He chuckles to himself and pulls back.

“I love when you kiss me and mean it. I love that you want me.”

“It comforts me in a way. To have formed a relationship with you. Even though you…you..”

“Stole you away?” He finishes your sentence

You nod and look away. He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

“But you’ve seen what I can offer you. Haven’t you. You can’t resist it. You can’t resist me. Can you?”

You nod slowly as he captures your lips in a fierce manner. You can barely breathe as his lips move against yours. You welcome it all the same. His aggression. His passion. He wants to consume you. Own you. And he does.

“You love it…don’t you..”

“Y-Y-yes, this has truly been the most luxurious and cared for I’ve felt in my life.”

“Good, as it should be.” He resumes his lips, consuming your own. You and him stay like this for a while. Passionately clinging to each other's lips. His hands move to clutch your hips and he eventually pulls back again to look at you.

“How do you feel?”

You take a moment to look at your surroundings. Things feel normal. Until they don’t. The room looks different. The lights feel more intense, and then when you stare too long, things begin to swirl. Only slightly. Only enough to make you intrigued by what was seemingly normal surroundings. Everything has become the most interesting thing that you could look at right now. As you continue to look around the room, looking at the various glass cabinets, lab experiments, everything, even the statues, seems to move. As if they are growing and swirling in the space around you. Time feels like it slows down and your immediate reaction is to smile at it all. Something about the way the room moves makes you giggle, and feel light.

“Good” you nod

“You’re starting to feel the effects aren’t you”

“I-I think so yes…”

“Good. It made me feel curious. Do you feel curious?”

You nod and he grabs your chin again.

“Speak up”

“Yes, Coriolanus, it makes me feel good. I feel curious as well.”

“Let me give you a tour of the lab now that you’re in the right mindset.”

He takes your hand and walks you around his lab. He tells you about the various experiments, tools, and ingredients that he uses. Even in this state, you can see how passionate he is. How much he enjoys talking about this side of himself, sharing it with you specifically. And just as he told you, you do find yourself curious in a new way under the influence of the concoction. Everything that you observe feels as though it has its own personality and yet somehow it’s all connected to the other experiments and the whole room. You can’t really explain it.

Then he takes you over to another set of cabinets. Only this time. They are locked behind an iron cage, painted white to match everything else in the room. He pulls a key from his pocket. Coriolanus unlocks the cabinet and behind the doors are rows and rows of vials similar to the one that he showed you, except each one is labeled differently. They are all different colors as well, ranging from red to purple to green and even midnight black. Yet, one vial sticks out to you in particular. It’s as clear as the glass that contains it and for a second, you’re not even sure that there’s anything in it. Upon further inspection, you can see the rim of liquid that fills to the top just below the cork. It intrigues and entices you. You wonder what it is. Coriolanus, picks up on your curiosity.

“I called that one liquid death”

“Liquid death?” you ask

“Yes, it took me a while to finally come up with the perfect concoction, especially to make it appear as it does. I wanted to make something that was hidden in plain sight so that when one's… enemies need to be… eliminated… They would never know what is coming. So, I was able to create a tasteless, colorless, concoction that can take ones…problems out in an instant.” He explains

You look at him with a hit of fear, then you smile and giggle.

“That’s so smart, Coriolanus.” But you only half mean it

He smiles back, giddy at your excitement. Meanwhile, in the back of your mind the sound of freedom rings again. This could be your answer. You could poison him and be free. How would you get to it though, how would you get back here without him knowing? And how would you get the key to the lab? Is it the same key as the one to open this cabinet? Your thoughts shift as he takes your hand again leading you out of the room. He locks up the cabinet quickly. You still feel the effects of the concoction he gave and as he pulls you away you look back one last time at the lab. You look at the silver key, in his hand, but only for a brief moment before he stops to stand in front of you. He pulls the blindfold out of his pocket and wraps it around your eyes as he slips the key into his pocket. You try to commit the key to memory, the shine, the shape. It’s the same one he used for the cabinet, and he uses it now to close up the lab.

“Let’s go to the garden. I think you’ll like it under this state.”

When you arrive at the garden, he takes the blindfold off and you feel the cool air hit your face. You look out onto the familiar white roses. As you walk around, taking a closer look, they appear to swirl and dance. You let out a small laugh of disbelief and amazement.

“You like it?” He asks

You nod and he takes your hand. He guides you around and even though you’ve become quite familiar, it feels like a whole new experience.

“So how long will the effects last?” You ask

“About another hour, then you’ll feel normal, well almost normal.”

“What does that mean?” You question

“Well, when I took it I felt…needy for you after.”

“Needy for me?”

“Mhmm…but you were modeling so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Oh…” you say plainly

“So..” he kisses your knuckles. “I do hope you will join me in my bedroom tonight.”

And just like that he switches the flip. You blush, and feel vulnerable to his charm. You let out a soft, innocent. laugh and look away.

“I thought that was a given”

“Well my dear, I hope you know, you always have a choice. And it seems like you keep choosing me…”

You gaze back up at him, smiling slightly. You lean up and kiss him. This time you make it soft and sweet. You slowly move your lips against his, letting him savor you. His hands move to your waist and pull you closer to him. After one last soft kiss he leans back and sighs.

“You’re so much different than the others. You want to escape, but don’t. Yet, you don’t praise me in the way the others conceded. And even then, some part of you cares about me. Do you realize how perfect you are?”

“I-I don’t think I’m perfect.”

“You are for me…I always wanted to find someone who could challenge me in a way. You are so curious to me. Do you know how many times the girls I’ve had stay here, try to run away the next day. Or how many times they gave in, thinking that I would choose them and let them have their lives back. But you, you just wait, wait to see what my next move will be and you’ve grown to become fond of me.”

He kisses your cheek.

“I know you do want your life back, I know this isn’t how you envisioned yourself, but it’s growing on you. I can see.”

“You are much kinder than I would have thought given how you…”

“Like to take what isn’t mine.” He finishes your sentence

You nod. He brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles. He gives you a quick kiss, then steps back to look at you fully.

“So, as I said, I hope to see you in my chambers tonight.”

He squeezes your hand and walks away. As he does, you watch him. When he returns inside, two guards come out. They stay at the top of the stairs, yet you know they aren’t just guarding the building. You sigh and look around at the garden.

Everything is still swirling and swimming around you. You glance up at the stars and gasp. The twinkling lights look as if they glitter in the sky. You are in awe and aren’t sure how long you stand to look, but eventually you get cold and tired. As you walk in, the effect of the concoction begins to wear off and you feel less sleepy than you expect. Instead, just as Coriolanus predicted, you get extremely needy. You haven’t felt this on edge in years and you Immediately think of Coriolanus's tongue soaking your pussy. As you make your way inside, the guards stop you.

“Do you wish to sleep in your chamber’s or the President’s tonight?”

“President Snow’s” you answer simply.

꧁🝮꧂

Next Chapter

[starsonablackboard]

managed to finish another decent ish piece so here's narinder's inutial design!! as always probably will change later

we're living by furry laws in this house so "head fur" aka hair is an option and im using it. period. another unpopular(??) choice is giving narinder a fur pattern, and don't get me wrong i love the pure black void nari, but as an artist i enjoy making up details to draw, so i indulged myself here. (but if i ever were to draw comics with him i would simplify it or just make him all-black, because repeating this every frame is a misery. fun for a one-off ref sheet tho)

not a lot of lore stuff for the guy since the idea of the au is still fresh and im figuring it all out, but there're design inspirations under the cut if you're interested!!

sooo lets go

i wanted narinder to have that dramatic sharp featured og cartoon villain look, so i took inspiration from oriental longhairs for the facial structure and from maine coons for fluffy dramatics. also i just love using maine coons as cat references. look at those things. marvellous.

from the very start (pretty much) my brain was consistently giving me images of narinder with hair, specifically dark long-ish straight-ish, so i tried to walk this mental image backwards to find the origins of it, and i think scar and ozai are my best bets. in my first sketches narinder had shoulder length hair with slight waves, but in the end i opted for long and straight. not really a reason to, just was vibing better to me

clothes are pretty standard narinder robes i think. i find it funny that fandom unanimously gave him basically a priest outfit, and i like it too, so i kept it. that red stripe gave me a little bit of a headache though, couldn't get it to look okay and not weird or tacky. i think i managed. i had to contain my urge to design him an intricate outfit with different textiles and embroidery and shit, but i try to keep it at least somewhat tied to logic and the au, and let's say that no-one was willing to do something this elaborate for narinder for quite some time

and some lore crumbs

• narinder is declawed (after his defeat that is).

see the narinder's claw relic and the whole do no evil motive. the most evil narinder directly did was the injures he inflicted on his siblings, and he did it by, quoting shamura, "such sharp claws". so yeah, that tracks. funfact i considered taking only one of his claws, from the left ring finger, because the relic is "narinder's claw" singular, but "callamar's ear" relic is also one ear and not two, so it didn't feel kike a good enough basis to take only one claw yk. so sorry big cat, all your claws are now gone

• lamb did kill narinder after defeating him. there's nothing on the pic that's tied to that fact, just thought it would be interesting to know

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[doink-boink]

Finally drew my interpretation of Zach's parents!

Have had these fellows in the works for a good while!

Really had to lock in when doing the writing here lol - my handwriting is normally a weird hyper mix between cursive and print. But messier. Hopefully its legible! Enjoy some more yapping about these guys below the cut >:D

Must mention this is within my own AU! My interpretation of Zach specifically is a trans man. So uh! No way in hell Arthur is supportive in that regard. He is a miserable man whose only concern is furthering the family business and his public image.

Really looked to both Moral Orel and Bojack Horseman as inspiration for how these two would be. Did not intend for Arthur to share a name with the character he is inspired by lol - but uhm! He specifically is like Arthur Puppington when Clay was a kid: Distant, cold, though not physically abusive. Emotionally? Oh brother, you bet.

Regarding Kim and Arthur's relationship, that was really dead in the water. Kim is a self published author, or rather, an ASPIRING self published author. She mostly writes crime novellas/dramas, though needed some outsider input regarding the legal side of her stories. So, of course, she decides to reach out to the biggest law firm in the area.

It is initially a short and sweet interaction: "I ask you questions, you give me answers and insight when you can." However, she grows to enjoy Arthur's company, falling for him quickly. VERY rushed marriage ensues! Good god! (Of course not ASAP, within a few months time of dating/correspondence) Not too certain as of right now where Zach comes into the mix, but definitely in that honeymoon stage of a relationship where you don't quite know the person yet to really gauge if things will work out or not.

I mean, things absolutely do NOT work out in the end, but they don't know that yet. Arthur I feel is the type to want a family ASAP. Need that sweet sweet heir to the company. Will accept nothing less than a son. Sucks for him, doesn't end up coming to fruition until much later! AFAB child, disappointment on Arthur's behalf, compassion on Kim's. Like a night and day difference - even after Zach does eventually transition (his mother is deceased by this point) his father refuses to accept it until he dies. By until I mean: "You still are not my son." *flatline*

Kim was there for Zach until the day she died, which would probably be around late middle school to early highschool? In that age range. Old enough to have fond and in depth memories. Which! Arthur is the one who discovers what had happened. Busy writing a novel when wham, sudden cardiac arrest - alone, as she tended to keep to herself. Entire family dynamic changes from then onward, though the abusive aspects of it were ever present. Arthur is generally unsupportive of Zach's endeavors, frustrated that he is going into science and robotics as opposed to law. (Though I do think he'd have been trained or prepped for a career as a lawyer throughout his teens-adolescence)

Zach is the closest to his mother, with most of his fashion sense coming from her. Gotta love the turtleneck sweater! @novazentryx came up with the idea that he inherited his early black sweater from Tazzy Chris from her after it shrunk in the wash, loved that so y'know what! This totally applies here. Not only did he inherit the sweater, but also her V-necklace! (Which, if you have seen Zoey, is where she gets it from! As well as she looks strikingly similar to Kim. On that front I think that was a surprise from Aviva, knowing how close he was to her)

Spitballing with this one, but I think it would be interesting if Zach had assisted in pitching ideas for Kim's stories! What aspects of it I do not know, but maybe names for the characters. Mayhaps that is where he gets ZACH from? Don't ask what his deadname is, haven't thought of that and would prefer not to lol

I think that concludes my rambling! Do not really have anything else that is coming to mind at the moment, so feel free to ask questions or leave suggestions about these two! I will more than likely respond ^^ (To asks or replies) Thank you for humoring me and reading all of this if you're here lol, I really appreciate it!!

[ladymomomymomoness]

I have a new Ao3 story from the Agatha All Along fandom. I'm obsessed currently so here's a new story!

Story summary:

Agatha, a young teen raised in a religious household with a mother who was convinced she was evil from the time she was born and abused her as such, is moved in to a group home for troubled teens after being removed from the house after her mother caught her kissing a girl. There she’s met with house mother Lilia whose passion is taking in misfit teens and giving them a loving home.

There she meets Jen, who was removed from her home after her dad committed a series of crimes and finally got caught and she has no other living relatives. She meets Alice whose mother died in a house fire and Billy, whose adoptive parents died in a car crash leaving him the only survivor, who has also recently found out he has a twin and a living mother out there that he is determined to run away and find on his own but keeps getting stopped by Lilia.

Finally, she meets the girl who’s been there the longest… Rio Vidal. A girl who is convinced that she is the reason everyone she loves dies.

Notes:

So this was a story that I was inspired to write based off of a post on Tumblr by @swiftsharkness at https://www.tumblr.com/swiftsharkness. The summary of this story is more-or-less her post. I've been obsessed with this show since it started and the conclusion was perfection. However, as much as I loved the conclusion I felt that there was a lot to explore with these characters in different scenarios and I wanted to do so in some capacity. Thankfully swiftsharkness provided me with a perfect idea that blossomed into a multi-chapter idea that I'm not sure if I'm fully prepared to take on considering I'm already writing a multi-chapter, multi-story series for another fandom. But here I am! Having to write about these damned lesbians that need some more story time devoted to them.

[prettynice8]

The Birthday Boy

Kim Hongjoong x male reader

This guy

Stuff: gay shit, fluff, smut, fucking, cuddle fucking, missionary, anal fingering, rimming.

Story: reader is a part of ateez and has been in love with Hongjoong for a few months now, and finally something happens.

Word Count: 1,542

Note: so, I haven't written in a while... my bad. But more importantly, happy birthday Hongjoong!

Hongjoong was utterly stunned when he saw the vibrant decorations hung around the dance practice room. His friends all gathered around as they yell "SURPRISE! HAPPY 25TH!" with bright smiles all over their faces. He thought he was just coming to any other day of practice and eating dinner and going on live with everyone later, but thanks to you, he also got this vibrant party.

A few weeks ago, you brought the idea up to the rest of Ateez, who all absolutely loved the thought of a surprise party. So, it's thanks to you that this whole surprise party idea was started. You all pitched on the decorations while you got up extra early to set them up, even going as far to bake the glorious cake.

Hongjoong had that adorable smile on his face when you all shocked him with the party.

"Guys... thank you so much!" He said, laughing lightly as his smile beamed, filling the whole room with his aura of joy.

"It was Y/N's idea." Seonghwa said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Hongjoong looked at you with a glimmer in his high, clearly having much gratitude and... adoration.

Your face erupted in blush from his tender gaze, your emotions being a mix of nervousness, embarrassment, pride, adoration, and of course, love for the leader.

"Your uhm... your welcome." You said sweetly, still a little embarrassment from the effect that his tender expression is having on you.

Hongjoong slowly walks over to you before wrapping his arms around you tightly. He tucks his head in your shoulder as light tears fall from his eyes.

"I mean it, thank you. This is so sweet." He expressed vulnerability.

"Of course, Captain." You replied cheerfully.

And with that, the party goes on, you guys play all kinds of games, have Hongjoong open his presents, saving the best for last, yours.

He unwraps the gift to find a beautiful jacket, clearly quite expensive. It is vaguely 80's inspired, with all kinds of colorful shapes littered throughout it for the fashion diva himself.

"Do you like it?" You asked, awaiting his response.

"I love it, it's so cute." He responded before placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, causing your light blush that you've had all the way up until now to erupt into a full deep red shade.

As the cake is given out, Hongjoong is talking with Yunho, Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Jongho. While Mingi, San, and Wooyoung are with you.

"Great job on the party Maverick." Mingi compliments.

"Aw shucks, thank you." You replied with a smile, very proud of the whole ordeal. San wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer so he can whisper in your ear without others listening, or more specifically, Hongjoong.

"So, when are you going to make your move?" He asked, as if your crush on Hongjoong is just the most obvious thing.

"Wh-what do you mean?" You questioned back, trying to play coy even though it is so obvious to San.

"Don't play stupid, we all know you're in love with him. Why don't you two just date already, it's obvious you're in love." He states plainly, acting as though this isn't one of the biggest deals in your whole life.

"But what if he doesn't feel the same? Then I'm still Hongjoongless and things would be awkward." You admitted, fearful of the ever-encompassing threat that he may not feel the same way.

"Don't give me that high school bull shit. He loves you, it's so obvious." He, again, states plainly, treating this whole situation like some high school melodrama, which it kind of is.

"WHAT!" You accidentally yelled out in surprise at San's super casual statement, having realized that you've completely wasted the past few months worrying about the captain's love when it was ALLEGEDLY so obvious to everyone but you, man, are you oblivious.

You look over at Hongjoong, which he notices and looks over at you. That's when you see it, the thing that has evaded you all this time, that glint in his eyes and particularly adorable smile when he sees you. He looks as though everything is darker but you, that makes everything else so much less beautiful just from your own ever-present glow. The same look that you always give him.

As the party dies down and the other members go home, it is stuck with just you and Hongjoong sitting on the couch, cuddled together sweetly in the aftermath of the surprise party. The decorations littered throughout, having made quite the mess.

"I decorated everything, you can clean it up." You stated.

"I'm the birthday boy! I'm not cleaning anything today." He exclaimed.

"Then clean tomorrow when you're no longer the birthday boy." You countered, all in good fun. He pulls you closer, really cuddling with you now. The closeness makes your head all dizzy, and your stomach almost bursting with butterflies.

Hongjoong realizes your dazed look and puts his hand under your cheek, bringing your face to look at his own. He stays like that for a while, his light breathing against your lips. You also just stay there, lips slightly apart as you stare into his eyes.

He breaks the moment by pulling your lips into his. You're stunned for a few seconds before eagerly returning the embrace, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

His hands go down to squeeze your hips, grinding his lower body against his own, eliciting a light moan from your mouth which he takes full advantage of, shoving his tongue into your mouth, entangling it with his own.

His body grows bolder, grinding his growing and clothed hard on against yours, his hands going down even more to tightly grab your ass, causing you to moan more.

As you both moan into each other's mouths, the kiss grows more and more passionate by the second, his fingers go into your pants, circling your ring of muscle, causing you to slightly pull away from the kiss in surprise.

"Sorry, too much?" He apologized, pulling his hands away.

"Fuck no, you feel how hard I am? Don't stop now." You replied, sitting on his lap and grinding against him even harder, your hand going down to palm him through his pants.

He quickly puts his finger into your muscle, making you have a loud yelp of pleasure and pain at the swift insertion. He slowly pumps the finger in and out, looking into your eyes for any sense of hesitation. You give him the opposite, looking back with a dazed and horny look.

He quickly takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and fit form, he then quickly dispels your own clothes, leaving you completely bare, your hard cock at full attention.

He slowly pumps your leaking member, bringing the pre cum to his mouth, licking it off his hand.

"Mmm, you taste so good baby." He exclaims before placing you on your hands and knees, diving into your ass.

He shoves his tongue into your rim, getting you ready for the main event to come. His tongue sends jolts of electricity through your body, going right to your mouth as you moan in delight from his skilled tongue.

Once he's decided that you're probably ready enough, pulling his pants down and gently flipping you over on to your back.

"I want to see you." He admitted sweetly. "You ready?" You quickly nod, giving him the consent needed to slowly push past your tight ring.

He slowly inserts himself at a leisurely pace, his mouth on yours the whole time, swallowing the cries of pleasure and pain.

Once he's bottomed out, he pulls away from your mouth, looking at your face for permission to move, which you give him with a quick nod.

He starts slowly moving inside you at a slow but steady place, causing light moans to leave both of your lips. Those light moans turn much louder and frequent as he quickens the pace of his well-timed thrusts, looking into your face the whole time with love.

You look back with equal adoration, wrapping your arms and legs around him to pull him closer, making him let out a particularly loud moan, which he returns by slowly pumping your achingly hard member.

"Fuck... I'm close." You let out, pulling him closer, feeling so overwhelmingly and beautifully close to him.

"Me too, can I...?" He asked, clearly asking for permission to cum inside you.

"Fuck yes, please." You replied, allowing him to cum inside your tight hole, which is exactly what he does.

His own orgasm gives you the final push you need to cum in his hand. He gently thrusts his hips in and out while slowly pumping your cock with his hand, driving out both of you shared orgasms.

He stays inside you while hugging you tightly, gently kissing your neck.

"I love you." He declared, his voice tired from the orgasm but still filled with conviction and sincerity.

"I fucking love you too, Hongjoong." You responded, gently kissing his forehead before drifting off to sleep, his head on your chest as you held him closely. The first love making of many, and the start of a new and wonderful relationship for you two.

THE END

Final Notes: hey, I wrote something, your welcome. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HONGJOONG.

[singsweetmelodies]

Annual Piarles Winter Fic Exchange: 2024/25

Hello fellow Piarlies ❤️💙 We are back with another winter fic exchange centred around our French and French-adjacent boys! All arrangements, sign-up details and explanations for the exchange can be found beneath the cut.

How does the exchange work?

Exactly the same as the previous Winter Fic Exchanges! We are approaching the winter break again, and we thought it would be cool if we could inspire another flood of Piarles-flavoured content to lift our spirits and make us miss F1 a little less over the break. Besides, who doesn’t love a present? Especially if that present is a fanfiction written just for you.

So how this works is: you sign up, submit your prompts for what you’d like to read in a gift fic, and then after sign-ups close, we’ll assign you a partner to write for. Someone else will have been assigned to write for you, so on the due date, you’ll post a gift fic and receive a gift fic of your own. 🎁

When are the deadlines and due dates?

Sign-ups are open as of now, and will remain open until the 20th of November 2024 - AKA, the day before the Vegas race weekend officially starts. After that point, we will close sign-ups and collect everyone’s prompts.

Assignments will be sent out by the 25th of November - AKA, the Monday right after Vegas - roll the dice in Vegas to reveal your giftee! 🎲🎲 You will then have almost two full months to work on your gift fics. (The sign-up period is a little shorter this year to give everyone a bit more time for the actual writing of the gift fics).

Gift fics are due to be posted on the 16th of January 2025, though we do want this to be a fun and no-real-pressure exchange for everyone, so if we notice that people are struggling to finish in time for the deadline, we will simply delay it by a week, and/or implement a staggered reveals system. We can do this as many times as necessary for everyone to finish comfortably and produce a fic you know your giftee will enjoy. 💙

What are the posting instructions for the gift fics?

There aren’t a whole lot of really specific or strict rules in this exchange, but the two we would like people to take note of are the following:

This is a Piarles fic exchange, so the main focus of your fanfiction should be the romantic relationship between Pierre Gasly and Charles Leclerc. Background pairings are allowed as long as the primary focus of your fic is still the dynamic between Charles and Pierre. (There will be a space in the sign-up form to indicate which background pairings you do and don’t like. Please note, however, that there is no requirement to write any background pairings if you don’t want to.)

The minimum word count for this exchange is 2k (2000) words. There is no cut-off or maximum word count, but we do ask that you try and write a one-shot instead of a multi-chapter if at all possible (unless you are posting a multi-chapter fic which is already complete at the time of posting.) 

We will do a more detailed post with AO3 collection details and final deadline/timezone instructions closer to the actual deadline. ❄

Is this a fic-only exchange, or can we create art as well?

This is indeed a fic-focused exchange, so in order to participate, we do request that everyone creates a fic that meets the 2k minimum. If you’re inspired to create art of any kind to go along with your fic, though, then you are more than welcome to do so! In fact, you’d be the MVP if you did. 🎁

How does prompting work in this exchange?

There will be a space in the sign-up form for you to submit two different prompts. Prompts can be anything from AU ideas (eg. coffee shop AU) to dialogue (eg. “Shut up” // “Make me”) to tropes or themes (eg. enemies to lovers). Anything goes, pretty much! Our only request is that you submit two completely different prompts - this is just to give your gift writer options.

As a gift writer, you can write either of the two prompts, or even go for some sort of creative combination of them both. It’s completely up to you!

There will be a space where you can provide an explicit/smutty prompt if you want, but please note that your gift writer is not required to include any explicit content in their fic unless they’re comfortable with doing so. 💙

What if I get prompts I really can’t write?

Not to worry - if you really don’t vibe with any of the prompts you have been given, you can get in touch with one of the mods and we will reach out to your giftee to provide an additional prompt or two. If things are still not working, we might reach out to someone else and have you swap giftees entirely. We want everyone to have a great time in this exchange, both in the writing and receiving parts of it!

We understand that sometimes life gets in the way, though, and you might not be able to fulfill your prompts for other reasons. We hope it doesn’t happen, but if you need to drop out of the exchange for any reason, please just let one of our mods know so we can arrange a pinch-hitter to step in and write your giftee’s fic in your place. ❄

Who are the mods for this exchange?

We have the wonderful team of @singsweetmelodies,  @welightitup, @duquesademiel, and @yukierres running things for this exchange! 💙

Where and how do I sign up?

All you have to do is fill out this Google form! Additional relevant information will be shared on the Calamars Club Discord server, so if you are not already part of that server, please message a mod for the invite link. 

@ Pierre/Charles shippers across Discord, Tumblr and AO3: we hope that this exchange will make you all smile over the winter break! We are so excited to share this with you all 🎁

[deadzonedenizen]

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN

RAMBLING ABOUT OCS: GIBBY EDITION

BASIC CONCEPT IDEA:

Before we start with the rambling, we first need to start with the JTTW character she is based on.

According to this article, there are four monkeys of havoc, Wukong and Macaque making up half of them. Horse Monkey will be a ramble for another time. Right now, we're putting our focus on the gibbon.

Lots of space-themes going on with this little guy. When I first read this bit, you know the first character that came into mind?

Now you know the reason behind Gibby's Halloween costume. So anyways, that collector inspiration already gave me a basic idea of what I wanted Gibby to be as a character. Bouncy little kid that has too much power for her own good.

Other inspirations for her character include Mebh from Wolfwalkers, Young Eda from The Owl House, Spinel from Steven Universe, and later on Kingsley from Yaelokre. The first two especially influenced Gibby's hair design, the third tracks with her ability to elongate her arms, and the last with a good chunk of her personality.

DESIGN:

Probably the first thing you'd notice from Gibby design-wise is her giant hair. I've decided to give her that hair to give her a sort of silhouette that resembles a shooting star. With Gibby herself, she is two lego heads tall. I mean- gibbons are already teeny, and especially the young by default, so of course Gibby's gonna be fun-sized.

With her color palette, I chose colors from the more pastel-y side to emphasize that childlike wonder that's basically associated with her. Fun fact, her hair is a reference to how she was born ;)

Her clothes, I wanted it to look like something you'd find a FFM monkey demon wearing, while still referencing Gibby's former job as the Jade Court's jester by adding what's basically a faded version of the Celestial Realm's signature turquoise and gold, and putting jester-like design bits like the little bells and mismatched colors. I also want the outfit to look like something she made herself.

NOTES FURTHER INTO DEVELOPMENT:

I can't really say too much without spoiling some bits of Ship In A Bottle, so I'll try to avoid anything that borders too close to that. Instead, I'll list each of the details from the JTTW Gibbon's description + how it's applied to Gibby.

'Seize the sun and moon'

Okay, so she can't literally manipulate celestial bodies all over the place. Instead, it's reflected on her flutes. Yes, Bell's flutes are actually hers, and are just meant to serve as Bell's training wheels with his powers. The flutes have a second form that resembles sunwheels (Though it would be appropriate to call the moon flute's wheel form a moonwheel).

Usually only one flute can be used in this form at a time. Which of the flutes can be used in its wheel form depends on whether it's day and night (moonwheel only for night, sunwheel only for day). The only time both can be used in their wheel forms is during an eclipse, or if the flutes are being used by two people. (Something I need to update in Ship In A Bottle 💀)

I haven't designed the wheel forms yet, but the sunwheel has its rays more emphasized, and the moonwheel's appearance depends on the moon's current phase. The sunwheel also resembles a suncatcher, while the moonwheel resembles a dreamcatcher with magpie feathers (for Ship In A Bottle readers, no you can't make blood oaths with them).

'Shorten a thousand mountains'

Ooooohhh boy, this is one of the more spoilery bits. All I need to say is...there was a reason they had to trap Gibby in the calabash. Gibby's abilities that aren't mentioned anywhere else here fall under this category. That's how you know these are her more...unstable abilities. Thankfully she'd need a good supply of power to source the energy needed for all of that. Otherwise it'd be really...disastrous.

'Distinguish the auspicious from the inauspicious'

Or in Gibby terms, her gut feelings. AKA her intuition. There is a small legend about her, where if she appears in your dreams, it's a sign of that dream possibly foretelling a future event. So she's basically an omen, good or bad depending on the dream. Being a dream-hopper, she tends to be more attracted to dreams that likelier to be a sign about the future.

Another small legend basically makes her a wishing star-like figure. If you wish upon a star, you're inviting Gibby to visit your dream (dream, as in your yearning in this context).

In the waking world, her gut feelings are a bit weaker. Simply put, the closer that specific event is to happening, the stronger her gut feeling is. For an event that could happen maybe a year into the future, Gibby would only get a slight gut feeling that she could easily just wave off. For an event that's a second from happening, Gibby gets literal vision flashes before they actually happen. This makes her a really good dodger, making her difficult to attack.

'Manipulate planets and stars'

Again she can't just play pinball with celestial bodies whenever she wanted (and believe me, she does). The planet bit is less referenced compared to the star bit (for a reason involving another oc).

Reading this far into my rambling, you already see a lot of star motifs with Gibby. Well another is her ability to manipulate stardust, which can put people to sleep if she's not careful. She generates stardust using her flutes, and the stardust is how she makes clones of herself, and even other people. The stardust can act like pixie dust too. Sprinkle a bit of it on something, and that's how you make that something float. Yes, she can manipulate normal sand too.

Stars and other celestial bodies also make up a good chunk of how she can tell if her gut feelings are a false alarm or not, since the position of celestial bodies can predict someone's d*stiny in Chinese astrology.

Gibby as a celestial primate

Whereas Wukong is the sun and Macaque is the moon, Gibby is the stars. Whereas Wukong is the hero and Macaque is the warrior, Gibby is the jester. I like to think that there's this sort of duality when it comes to pairs of celestial primates.

Wukong represents the unchanging sun, and the fact that it never stops shining. You just can't help but notice him, but even dare to make eye contact, and you might mark yourself as an enemy.

Macaque represents the ever-changing moon, its different phases reflecting in how Macaque is better able to adjust to different situations. You don't always notice him. Sometimes he shines brightly with a dramatic display, and sometimes he's blended with the shadows of the night.

Gibby represents the playful stars. Her head is in the clouds and she's almost always literally floating. She embodies the whimsies of childhood, the curiosity of youth, and the world through the lens of a child.

So you already have a bit of a hint about down-to-earth Mandrill's character, hint hint nudge nudge ;)

Chat I wanna ramble about another oc who's name isn't Bell. Question tho, which one would you guys be interested in?

[trickwizard]

Favorite hobby: self inserts

On this episode: myself and friends in The Magnus archive universe

The vast avatar is @palletical btw, good good friend of mine go check em out

[demaparbat-hp]

Golden Boy (and Silver Girl) for the Kintsugi AU.