#library overloading

[sighcomics]

Please world be quiet

[chesed-enjoyer]

Hello chesed x roland enjouyers. I have a little wholesome(somewhat) doodle for you all. THERE IS NOT ENOUGH CHESED X ROLAND WHOLESOME ART IN THIS WORLD!!!!! RAGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM HERE TO CONTRIBUTE.

ps: im not those underage chesed x adult roland (or vice versa) proshippers (ew), im saying this because i was actively talking once in a server and i mentioned "i love roland x chesed" and someone called me a proshipper (that was a terrifying experience)

[drivenbydopamine]

I need true silence. I don't want the shove-things-in-my-ears-so-I-almost-can't-hear-your-noises silence(ish)

[slow-burn-sally]

Fuck your fucking funeral

Fuck your fucking wedding

Fuck your fucking weekend away

Fuck your fucking camping trip

Fuck your fucking awards ceremony

Stop inviting me to things that might cause meltdowns or burnouts and then nagging at me and guilting me when I say no.

No, I don't care if this funeral is my "last chance to say goodbye".

No, I don't care that it's my cousin's wedding, and I "should be there to support him".

Family reunion? I don't fucking care. They can email me if they want to stay in touch. I can see them separately in quiet little coffee shops on un-crowded weekdays.

If you're fine with pressuring me into activities and behaviors that harm me, then I'm fine with telling you to

JUST FUCK OFF

sincerely, your autistic friend.

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

i love raven she is just my autistic little loser failgirl that somehow tricked everyone into thinking she's some cool mysterious goth. no, shes just awkward and doesnt know how to talk to people tbh.

[kurapikaschai]

having a weird day y'all 🥶

[garnetsandroses]

don’t want to be known for making 0 note posts about 3 hour films but oppenheimer was good. if anyone was doubting lol

[trevlad-sounds]

The mixes are starting to take of. This one has a retro synth chill vibe to it

Aural Design-Light and movement-00:00

The Overload-Low Flying Aircraft-01:22

Giants of Discovery-And it's Goodnight From The Human Race-03:47

Albin-Sommarkassetten B-10:08

Andrea Cortese-Antientropic-13:21

Virgo-Diadem-16:41

Wojciech Golczewski-Glow Part One-22:25

Mark Ellery Griffiths-Like the Passing of Summer Rain-25:04

Portopia '81-Sparkling Constellation-36:05

Timecop1983-Lost in Your Eyes (feat. Per Rinaldo)-39:47

Binaural Space + Flying Bohemian-Sunday Morning Afternoon-44:35

E Ruscha V-Sunrise/ Sacred Trigonometry-48:49

Secret Circuit-Polygono-56:59

Town & County-Intercity House-1:02:47

Metius-Second Vision-1:06:23

Sensations' Fix-Into The Memory-1:10:51

Listening Center-The Slip At Low Tide-1:13:56

RIEUX-Last to Know-1:19:48

Jon Brooks-Chloro-1:23:33

Manu Roig-Dustmote-1:26:34

[wilt3d-r0zes]

Fic title: Ice Cream Sandwiches Are Fucking Bitches Summary: 

Stiles gets angry-overstimulated trying to make ice cream sandwiches Or, I got angry-overstimulated trying to make ice cream sandwiches and wrote this while calming down lol

Important Tags: Autistic!Stiles, Sensory Overload, Angy Sensory Overload, Vent Fic Word Count: 940 Fic link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46518250

Starting Notes: TWs if you don't read your tags very well (like meee) Overstimulation, almost-meltdown, thoughts of murdering someone at the next inconvenience bc mood, stiles briefly considers becoming the Beacon Hills villain and hits Lydia

Actual Fic: Look, he was trying to make ice cream sandwiches from scratch. It was a weird, slightly misplaced in judgment decision he made out of boredom and a need to do something with his hands. Baking isn’t usually something he does to calm down, but from time to time it’ll soothe the need to learn, to do, to be productive. Unfortunately, right now it is also going to drive him Fucking Insane. The worst part is that Scott is also here. He isn’t helping Stiles bake, because that would simply not end well, he’s in the living room playing on the Xbox 360 because Scott has the PS4 out of the two of them. But that’s not the point, the point is that Stiles has finally finished mixing the dough and portioning it into four pieces to roll out, but there’s so much crap all over the counter (A box of gloves, an empty box of parchment, a roll of parchment, aluminum foil (for some reason?), scissors, a knife, various tools used when mixing the dough, the actual dough itself-) and he has no space to roll it out flat. Not to mention, the parchment keeps curling and he can’t keep it flat enough to actually roll the dough out, and he’s managed to kinda-sorta get one portion rolled out. It’s not 8x8 like it needs to be, it isn’t the right thickness and it’s not even remotely a square, but damnit it’s rolled out and on the pan. However, he’s yet again run out of parchment, and this second piece is fighting him. By the time he finally has managed to drop it onto the pan and shove everything in the oven, he’s about five seconds away from murdering someone. He’s going to become Beacon Hill’s next threat- two times in a row! Take that, nobody else has managed it yet!  He’s glaring at the timer he’s set, trying to calm down from what he knows is just overstimulation, to ignore the loud TV just behind him, and the sound of the time tick, tick, ticking.  Stiles groans, because it’s not working and he’s just too pissed off to deal with Scott- who’s just asked if he’s okay, probably thinking Stiles burned himself or something. Instead of responding, the human turns on his heel, yanking off his apron and grabbing the timer on his way out of the kitchen.  Scott’s worried voice follows him when he runs up the stairs and slams the door behind him. Headphones are grabbed off his desk and plugged into his phone with probably more force than necessary (They get caught on the edge of the port several times, and he almost considers throwing the two offenders out the fucking window before it finally goes in.) His locked door and screaming headphones block out the sound of the stupid timer he resisted the urge to throw out into the hallway, as well as Scott worriedly sitting down outside the room. He knows the werewolf can definitely hear the music- hell, a human would be able to hear the music on the other side of the door. Spotify is blaring in his ears, a song with heavy bass from his overstimulated playlist crashing into his senses and drawing him away from everything.  Stiles practically melts down to the floor, laying on his side and letting his eyes unfocus, one hand tapping at the ground in tune with the music.  When the timer goes off, heard just over the music, he begrudgingly sits up (Hey, at least he feels a bit better now, but he’s still not calmed down enough to deal with Scott. He’s just going to get up, take the pans out of the oven and set a new timer, then go back to laying on the floor for a while.) His best friend is up and by his side the moment Stiles opens the doors, and Stiles sees the moment his eyes glance towards the still blaring headphones and he takes a step back. Good. Murdering the only True Alpha werewolf anybody seems to have heard of isn’t exactly how he initially planned to spend his Sunday. He slips down the hall on the balls of his feet, skips a song along the way, and grabs the oven mitts from where they’re lying in the mess of other crap on the counter. Scott’s still trailing behind him, but he’s staying a decent distance away and just observing, like he expects Stiles to break. (He still might) (Stiles is trying very, very hard not to lose his fucking mind, because just the presence of Scott, the knowledge that he’s being watched, is so beyond grating that the time he spent relaxing has been entirely for naught.) The trays of haphazardly made ice cream sandwich shells are practically tossed onto the counter, and he resets the timer for ten minutes on his way back to his Cave™  The floor continues to be incredibly comfortable, and when half the rest of the pack finally shows up with the ice cream Stiles needs, Scott helps him put away the rest of the groceries and nobody tries to talk or touch him because he’s still got his headphones on.  Also because he elbowed Lydia in the tit for tapping him to get his attention. Oops.  (The treats were pretty good, for someone who’s never made this before. They insist on trying one each before Stiles can get them into the freezer, which means they’re all soft and squishy, and ice cream gets all over everyone, but there’s at least a few that made it through the cooling time.)

Ending Notes: fun fact the name of this fic in my docs is just "ICE CREEEEEEEEEEM YOU WHORE" also I was listening to will wood while posting this (much like stiles, at full volume in a pair of headphones) and the amount of times i just had to stop to happy stim agndhjkg it also made me realize i didn't write any of stiles stimming to Good Notes because there are parts of songs that make me bluescreen /pos

[catboyrightsdefender]

the mental illness is winning today

[asterdeer]

it’s my city’s pride artwalk tonight but i have no one to go with and the hassle of going downtown, finding parking, then wandering around by myself being awkward and weird and having no idea what im doing is so unappealing when i could just go sit and write at the coffee shop

[esouliie]

everything comes out, teenage petulance ⋆⟡˖

– synopsis | someone from wanda’s past interrupts your saturday morning and you’re not happy about it. wanda, however…

– warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, age gap couple, reader is younger & inexperienced and with that comes✨ emotional immaturity✨ but wanda is *chefs kiss* at giving reassurance :3

– notes | not proof read but the writing is rough!!! but but but i tried to write the inexperienced reader in an age gap relationship with the concept of conflicting emotional maturity… and i hate it lol, the dialogue sucks ass :/ i wish i could write reader with better petulant teenager energy!

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and the soft hum of Wanda moving about the kitchen. Saturdays with her are your favorite, a break from the routine of the week. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Wanda's voice floated in from the other room.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," her tone gentle and affectionate. "I've made us some coffee."

You stretched and yawned, making your way to the kitchen where Wanda stood by the counter, her eyes twinkling as she hands you a mug. You took a sip, savoring the rich flavor of your favourite Colombian blend, overloaded with the insurmountable amount of sugar and cream she put in. Usually, she complains about how you take your coffee - constantly complaining how your daily sugar intake was enough to knock out an elephant - but she knew you wouldn’t drink coffee any other way.

And you needed coffee.

"Thanks, Wands," you mumbled as you smiled up at her, noticing her nose scrunch as she mimicked your smile. She's a few years older than you, and she wore it with pride. She was confident in herself, there was never a time she felt insecure about her age, and the most emotionally intelligent person you’ve ever met. In the beginning of your relationship, all of your “arguments” ended with healthy communication from Wanda’s side whereas you’d close up like a clam, refusing to talk or fight or even run away. You’d just switch off. And so, her maturity and confidence used to make you feel a bit self-conscious. But every day was better, because you have an excellent teacher who loves you endlessly.

You and all your emotional problems.

"Ready for our walk?" she asked, reaching for the leash. "Lucky's been waiting all week."

You nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. Let's go."

You both had been watching Lucky for the past couple weeks. Your bestfriend - Kate Bishop - had recently gone to Russia to visit her girlfriend’s parents. You were all for it, an exciting buzz had followed you the whole upcoming week. Wanda was a bit unsure at first, having never owned a dog, she wasn’t sure how to take care of it, but you reassured you had enough experience for the both of you.

The park was just a short walk from your house, and as you stepped outside, the crisp morning air filled your lungs. Lucky, the exuberant golden retriever, darted ahead, his tail wagging furiously. but never too far away from you both. The park was alive with people and their pets, the sound of laughter and conversation mingling with birdsong. Children ran across the grass, their gleeful shouts echoing through the trees.

Wanda took your hand, her fingers warm against yours. "It's such a beautiful day," she said, her eyes scanning the park. "Perfect for a walk."

This week had been especially busy for both of you. Wanda had been tirelessly working as the director of her own gallery, a lifelong dream that she had finally realised after months of dedication and effort. Meanwhile, you were preparing for your finals, which meant spending countless hours holed up in the library or Wanda's home office. As a result, the past few days you had seen very little of each other, making the rare moments like this morning even more precious.

You hummed in agreement and squeeze her hand, feeling a rush of affection for the blonde. “Here! You take this!” She offered, handing you Lucky’s ball in exchange for his lead.

Just then, before you could run off to play fetch, someone called out, "Wanda!" Her grip on your hand immediately loosened, and she dropped it, stepping a few steps away. You turned to see an older man - his mousy brown hair styled neatly with a suit jacket over his arm - approaching with a skip in his step.

There was no ring on his finger.

"Wanda, is that really you?" he asked, a broad smile spreading across his face , showing a bit too much teeth for you, as he hugged her warmly. You almost rolled your eyes as they rocked side to side in their embrace, shared laughter floating between them.

As fucking if.

“Vis! It’s been ages.” Wanda is the first to pull away, and yet her arms are still wrapped around his biceps. Your eye twitched as you notice her brush her fingers along the stretched fabric.

You stood there awkwardly. The pair fell into easy conversation as if they were ex lovers or something, and you waited for an introduction that never came. Their voices became a distant murmur as you drifted away from the conversation, your attention returning to Lucky, who was no longer by your side, and who was dangerously close to the pond, trying to reach the ducks with his snout.

“Lucky! Leave the ducks alone!” You called, grabbing his lead from Wanda’s, albeit loose grip, hurrying over towards the dog who was either ignoring you or hyper-fixated on reaching those ducks.

You’re not sure what happened next. You either spooked Lucky out of his trance or he really was being an ass today, but as soon as you got close enough to clip his lead to his collar, he spun on his back legs, knocking into you and zooming away. You stumbled, your balance slipping as you flailed to stay upright. With a yelp, you tumbled down, your body hitting the muddy bank. Your leg splashed into the water, soaking your entire leg. Wet and cold, you scrambled to stand up but a sharp pain shooting through your ankle had you sinking back on to the bank, before you managed to pick yourself up on your good leg. Tears from the pain and embarrassment blurred your vision as you looked down at the state of you. Your pretty dress Wanda had picked out for you this morning was coated in mud and all sorts of dirt. You watched in grimace as pond water dripped out of your shoe as you moved away from the scene of the crime.

Remembering you weren’t alone, and your girlfriend had probably seen the dog wipe you out, you searched for Wanda, only to find her still with her “old friend.” In fact, they seem to have moved over towards a spare bench as you noticed how close they were sat next to each other. Turned towards one another, their arms were basically brushing. Wanda had laughed at something Vis had said as she threw her head back, almost falling backwards until he grabbed onto her, pulling her closer towards him.

The sight made your stomach churn. Anger swirled in a violent revenge inside, and yet, it was sadness that slipped down your face. You felt a burning sensation in your chest and a lump forming in your throat.

All you wanted to do was go home.

A mother and her young daughter who had watched you fall made their way over to you, the question already posed in the way she looked at you. “Are you alright?”

Your teary eyes shifted back to the bench. Still lost in conversation, you watched and waited, wondering what it was they were talking about, wondering if she had even noticed you’re hurt.

But it’s clear she hadn’t seen you fall… or maybe she just forgot you were even here.

“I’m fine.” You replied, but your eyes deceived you.

The woman followed your gaze, “Oh! Are they your parents?”

You scoffed but there wasn’t any bite to it, and fresh tears rolled off your face, “No.”

You began to hobble forward, in search of Lucky but the stranger was one step ahead of you. She grabbed onto your arm, claiming you shouldn’t put your weight on your injured ankle, as she sent her daughter ahead looking for Lucky. She found him in no time, on the other side of the pond, no longer trying to reach the ducks but sat watching them.

You called for him, and without a fuss, he came. You clipped him to his lead, as he stared up at you curiously. He seemed to sense your distress and was suddenly still, looking up at you with a sorrowful expression, as if he understood the part he had played in this. Before you could return to full height, he leaned his head into yours. His actions saying a thousand words, and you couldn’t help but smile at the pup, giving him a little scratch. “It’s okay, bud. I know you didn’t mean to.”

Meeting the concerned mother’s gaze, you pointed towards Wanda, “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off but she understood, turning away with a genuine “get well soon”, instructions to ice your ankle as soon as you get home, and her daughter in hand. With that, she turned in the opposite direction, heading back towards where you fell.

You walked in the other direction, deciding to go around Wanda. You didn’t want to see her right now. Noticing the park exit in sight, Lucky dragged on his lead, trying to turn back the way you came.

“No, Lucky. We’re going home.” You ushered him through the gates, “She can stay here with him.”

A shout caught your attention. Behind you, Wanda was walking - almost running - towards you. The man was nowhere in sight. “Y/N! Where did you go? Why are you leaving?” You noticed a tinge of frustration in her voice, but that was dropped as soon as she took in your soaked state. “What happened?”

“Oh so you did remember I was here.” With that, you turned and walked away as fast as your ankle would let you.

“What-?” You heard Wanda struggle for words behind you before she caught up, her hand grabbing your cold, still - damp arm. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“You would know if you weren’t so impressed by your boyfriend back there.” You spat, shrugging off any hold she had on you.

She grabbed your arm again, firmer this time. “He’s not my boyfriend. His name’s Vision. We went to school together. I haven’t seen him in years.”

Her tone remained the same soft melody, despite the obvious frustration earlier.

You remained silent, scoffing in reply, as you tried to walk away, but she stopped you again, turning you around to face her.

Her warm hands held your cheeks, forcing you to make eye contact. “Hey, what’s really wrong?”

Her gaze softened, concern evident, and you felt tears pooling again as you fought within yourself, torn between letting go of your anger or clinging to it like petulant teenager.

“Don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You forgot about me,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your face. She wiped at them and a hum encouraged you to continue.

“You dropped my hand, and was talking to that guy so much, you didn’t even know I was still there. Lucky was acting up, so I went to get him, and I fell in the pond. My ankle really hurts, I think I sprained it, and I’ve ruined my dress and—” A sharp sob cut you off as your emotions overwhelmed.

Sensing your distress, Wanda pulled you into her arms. “It’s okay, baby,” she consoled softly, her voice remaining gentle and soothing.

Being in Wanda's arms usually helped you calm down. The warmth of her embrace and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed steadily would bring you a sense of peace. You would listen to her heartbeat, syncing your breath to its comforting rhythm, as her presence soothe your worries away.

However your anger surged, unable to latch onto a single thing as it flailed wildly. You pushed back against her chest, but she didn’t let go. "No, don't baby me! You forgot about me! I fell into a pond, and you weren't even there to help. A stranger did, Wanda. A fucking stranger cared more about me than my own girlfriend because she was too busy with some fucking guy!"

Her grip tightened slightly as she whispered, a juxtaposed effort to your loud volume, “I know, and I’m so sorry.” But you were too upset to care, your hurt and frustration drowning out her words of apology. You tried to close down on yourself, shielding away from the pain.

“Wanda, let go of me,” you said, hands pushing against her as your voice trembled with the effort to hold back the flood of emotions.

“No,” Wanda replied firmly, her eyes searching yours. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I already told you! ” Her persistence had you shouting again, the walls you were trying to build around your heart crumbled. Tears welled up in your eyes as your throat closed up as you started to sob uncontrollably. Frantic images of Wanda on the bench with the man flashed through your mind, tormenting you. You wiped at your face desperately, but the tears kept coming, a torrent of pain, betrayal and immeasurable grief.

“You acted like I didn’t exist,” you choked out between sobs. “It was like you were ashamed of me.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be your response. “I’m not ashamed of you.” She said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t know why I dropped your hand or why I didn’t introduce you as my girlfriend. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry.” Her own tears began to pool, her sorrow evident.

“I could never be ashamed of you, Y/N.”

She pulled you into a tight embrace, tears falling on top of your head as she whispered a few more apologies, and a promise to do better, to never make you feel invisible again or doubt her love for you.

“I want to go home.” You whispered, with a defeated energy.

Wanda remained unconvinced, though she understood your struggle. She had been tirelessly encouraging you to be more open about your feelings, and she had seen you make significant progress. However, she knew that progress wasn’t linear. Despite your improvements since you first started dating, she anticipated the occasional bad day. Recognising that this conversation wasn't suited for a public setting, Wanda shifted the focus. “I think Lucky does too,” she said softly, nodding towards the enthusiastic dog at your side.

You followed her gaze to Lucky, who was wagging his tail so energetically - despite the tense conversation he had just been present in- it seemed he might take off at any moment. “Okay, boy. Let’s go,” you said, giving him the command he was eagerly awaiting.

As the golden retriever began to trot down the street, you turned to the older woman. “I’m sorry Wands.”

The weight of those few words lingered in the air, before you felt a gentle squeeze on your hand as Wanda had intertwined her fingers with yours, her grip reassuring and steadfast. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

She didn't let go the entire way, and once again, her presence was a silent promise of growth, support and understanding as you made your way home together.

[pleasehelpmeimfying]

Fucking him silly was probably the best decision you ever made. The way he’s latching to the sheets, desperate for some self control. His hips being forced to meet your pelvis over and over again. How deep you ran into him is unbelievable, honestly.

It was all his fault! He kept giving you a stank attitude.. it was so disappointing :( you taught him better than to act like some kind of brat!!

{𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 (?), 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐌!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐠𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝), 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. 

——————————————𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

As perfect as he was, there were times when this Obedient Adeptus acted like a total brat. Giving you nasty attitude from across the room with that 100 yard stare. It was.. a unique experience.

You were just talking to some of your closest friends! Giving them random ass advice, a hug or two. Nothing serious at all‼️ but that damn Adeptus took it all the wrong way. So, when they left.. you confronted the little shit and dealt with the “problem”.

“𝐖-𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭! <𝐘/𝐍>!.. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐡𝐡𝐇𝐡𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐡 ❤︎︎ 𝐍-𝐍𝐠𝐡𝐡𝐦𝐦!“

Xiao was pleading for something you really couldn’t understand. Probably because you had him in the mating press. Both of your legs tangled, balls deep inside his tight hole. You slammed up and down as he tried to fight the moans slipping through his pretty little throat.

“𝐌’𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲! 𝐍𝐞-.. 𝐍𝐠𝐡𝐡𝐡!! 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚-𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.. 𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐧 ❤︎︎“

As you already had your lover in the most vulnerable position, you decided to give him just a bit more.. So why not jerk him off??

He felt your warm hand grip his hard on, confused on why you would touch him in such a position. His mind was slowly turning into mush as your dick kept drilling in his warm walls. Head being thrown back as his mouth opened only to be greeted by his tongue hanging out like some kind of whore. The way you kept overloading him with diffrent sensations were killing him. Moans after moans were ripped out of him, as his toes curled and tears fell.. he cummed violently, getting it all over his face and shoulders as you continued to fuck the living daylights out of him.

“𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲..! 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭-𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.. 𝐈𝐦 𝐜-𝐜𝐔𝐌-𝐍𝐠𝐡𝐡 𝐦𝐦𝐩𝐠𝐡! ❤︎︎“

---------------------------------

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞

This motherfucker.. Always bitching and moaning whenever your out. In the store he’s cussing you out on how you got the wrong type of “BiTtEr tEA.” At the library giving you the death glare as you accidentally drop a book and it made a little thud. Crying to you how you apparently don’t love him anymore. The list could go on and on..

Currently, scaramouche was handcuffed and blindfolded to the bed Stand. A vibrator up his ass and one on the tip of his dick. To top it all off, he was wearing a cock ring ☆! Preventing him from letting his load out. This punishment was going on for half an hour. Tears were falling on the sides of his pretty lil face as his body twitched.

He didn’t know you were still in the room. Thinking that you left to go do something.. more important. He was so fucking wrong it was sad. Slowly you crept on the side of the bed, gently tracing your finger across his abdomen.

“..𝐦𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐧𝐠𝐡... 𝐓𝐨.. 𝐓-𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!.. <𝐘/𝐍> 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞- 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞....“

Begging and crying to stop this pleasurable nightmare yet you didn’t hear a single, “Sorry”. Looked like the little beast didn’t know how to apologize! That’s okay, you can teach him <333

So you maxed out the vibrators, and nipped his whole body as he cried. Shaking and sweating.. it’s okay, you can teach him to be more.. Kind.

“𝐍𝐌𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐇?!.. 𝐍𝐨- 𝐧𝐎𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐦𝐦𝐧𝐍𝐌𝐠𝐡! 𝐧𝐨- 𝐧-𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞! 𝐌’𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐡𝐠𝐡𝐧! 𝐅-𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠-.. 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐡𝐡!!“

---------------------------------

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨

Known for his stoic attitude and large reputation for alchemy, Albedo would’ve been continuing his research. Ironically he’s on his desk, papers and test tubes scattered everywhere as the cold nipped at his artificial skin. Rosy cheeks and small tears blessed his face as you kept fucking him so well!

Albedo wasn’t even trying to keep quiet. He genuinely didn’t care if anyone heard him. There in the middle of dragonspine, who in the right mind would come this far? Alas, he quickly focused on you once more. Your dick pounding into him so good was like a dream come true.

So why were you being so harsh for?.. oh that’s right. He kept cutting your friends off whenever they choose to speak, he kept tugging your arm away from them too. Just normal needy Beast behavior.

“𝐅-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤!.. <𝐘/𝐍>.. 𝐎𝐡𝐡! 𝐌𝐦𝐩𝐠𝐡𝐡𝐡.. 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫!!“

You kept hitting that spongy spot buried deep inside him, making his legs tremble and his clenched on your cock more frequently. His hole swollen from you stretching it. Giving him no break to recover from his organism! That was mean and you knew it too. But did you care?

No, No you did not. Soooo.. you leaned down, grabbed a fistful of his hair and stopped moving. You decided it was his turn to do the work. To go in and out if he wanted to complain so much.

“𝐰𝐡𝐲’𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩? 𝐖𝐡𝐲’𝐝.. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨! 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐀𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐌𝐏𝐇♡︎ 𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐡𝐇𝐡𝐡♥︎“

Maybe next time he wouldn’t be so bitchy.

[sugarverse]

“you have got to be quieter.” you hear your boyfriend groan behind you, covering a hand over your mouth.

he had you on all fours, eyes rolled back into your skull and he wanted you to shut up??

you whine, moving against him desperately. he always wanted to say something about your volume right before you finished. he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance, sliding a finger in your mouth for you to suck on, drooling against his hand. You try as hard as you can to shut up, hiding your face in your arms as you lean against the table. 

it was getting incredibly too stressful with exams coming up. the air was more chaotic and more negative, people grouped everywhere. Even the library was pretty packed.. except for the 7th floor. The elevator was much too slow for most students to wait past floor four. Finals week, of course, had to be an exception because the first few floors were packed. The 6th floor had a handful of people, the music rooms on the 7th floor is probably the best option for studying at this point. Especially when they have private music rooms to study in.

“We'll just have to work on it, yeah?” He asked, propping a leg up onto the chair next to him to hold the arch in your back with his arm. He rutted into you, grunting in your ear before slamming into you so hard the desk began to rattle. Talk about noise..

You can feel your eyes prick with tears of pleasure, biting onto your sleeve and trying to keep down like he asked. You whined and whimpered into your arms, gripping onto the desk so hard your knuckles turned white. It was genuinely getting to the point that your vision was getting blurry. You came against him with a shaking sigh, feeling him pull out slowly.

“Turn over, I wanna see that pretty face..” He helped you turn onto your back gently, laying against the cold table as he realigned himself with your desperate cunt. He lifted your legs up, pulling them to his chest and resting your ankles on his shoulders. You could feel your slick dripping onto the table, watching him kiss your calf gently before shoving into you once more.

Your hands fly to cover your mouth, feeling him hug your legs together around his head. You knew you were being bitchy earlier, but you didn’t think he was this mad. You whimper, legs beginning to shake as he leaned forward to shove you into a mating press. You really never knew when you pushed his buttons too far, but to keep riling him up all week without relief then moving when he wanted a kiss must have overloaded him.

“B-baaaabe!” you moan out, biting into his shoulder and shoving your hands under his shirt to tear his back apart. He grips the desk for support, laughing in your face about how quick he can make you a mess. He sucks a breath in, flinching at your nails and biting into your shoulder in return.

“Next time I’ll just stop wherever we are. Bend that ass over. And let everyone see you can’t go five seconds without. my. dick.” He slammed harder with each punctuation.

You whined and whimpered, drooling against his skin. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take him like this. You dig your nails into his back repeatedly, cumming against him as shaky moans left your mouth. He slammed into you a final time, pulling out and finishing on your bra. You sigh heavily, smiling up at him as you watched him scramble to find something to clean you off with.

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6

-> Part 1

-> Part 5

With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.

But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.

You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.

Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.

"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.

Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!

You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.

Crepus was horrible for your heart.

Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.

This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).

You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.

Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.

Probably the trauma speaking.

Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.

Today, I don my very own Windblume.

I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The winds are particularly harsh today.

I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.

Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...

Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are growing restless.

Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.

It remind me of a newborn puppy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are planning a rebellion.

I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.

Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.

It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.

It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.

Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?

Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.

I met Ragnvindr today.

Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.

"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.

It helped.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.

I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.

I admire their bravery.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.

King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.

In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.

The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.

I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

My little spirit friend is still without a name.

I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.

A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.

But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.

Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.

It is hard to name them.

I've thought of many names up until now.

Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.

Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.

None fit.

I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

That was the last entry.

You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.

It really wasn't.

Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.

But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?

I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.

✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨

The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?

If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!

I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt @avalordream @ymechi @andromeda-gay @naynayaa @undecidingfate @thedevioussmirk @tumb3ld0wn @balaur-bondoc @yi-chii @yarabutterfly @nervouseaglelover @vexingpraedyth @indelible-colouring-markers @whitefantasy21-blog @kapitankarate

[yogurtkags]

congrats on 100 followers, you totally deserve it :D ˚✧₊⁎ if it’s still opened.. could i request osamu x reader as culinary school rivals??

❝ COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS ❞ — miya osamu

cw. gn!reader, culinary school!au, rivals to friends, fluff, language (reader has a bit of a potty mouth), onigiri miya is a family business, there’s just a slight tension between them, not beta read. word count. ~ 1.6k

getting locked out of your dorm isn’t the worst thing that can happen, until you have to call in a favour from miya osamu, your literal nightmare— or a blessing in disguise?

event masterlist

this is so stupid and would’ve been completely avoidable if you just slept even a little bit last night instead of staying up experimenting before heading for your morning class.

with a huff of annoyance and bleary bloodshot eyes from sleep deprivation and rubbing them in a desperate hope of waking yourself up from a half-asleep half-dead state, you rummage through your bag for the overloaded carabiner one more time for good measure, you’ll never know if it was just hidden in a pocket that you missed— nope never mind, it’s not there.

“fuck me.” slamming your palm on the door, you rest your forehead on the smooth hardwood doors of your dorm entrance and sigh, just my fucking luck.

you can picture it crystal clear, all the ingredients you’ve neatly laid out on the kitchen counter ready for you to prepare a quick lunch, and that damned mason jar of bottled gold. you spent the whole of last night and the ones before perfecting it and now it sits just outside of your reach, like the gods above playing a sick trick on you— except there’s no trick, just you being stupid and forgetting to bring your keys out that landed yourself in this predicament.

your frustration is immeasurable, you need that for a class later in the afternoon that weighs a hefty amount on your grade and you can’t afford missing out on it, you’ve spent so much time on it after all and refuse to give in. all this is making you want to run your hands through your hair and harshly tug, hoping that the sting would rouse you from this bad dream.

no one’s in the dorms right now, everyone’s either in class or the library, and the sweet old dorm lady’s out and about sourcing for ingredients in town; it’s restock wednesday.

you’re ransacking your brain, mentally going through a list of people you could possibly engage for help, mumbling under your breath so the pathetic silence doesn’t swallow you whole. it’s quiet aside from the birds overhead, their constant chirping grating to your ears, almost like they’re mocking you.

“i don’t have cash on hand to pay a locksmith.”

“i could ask noya to try picking the lock, but knowing him it’s more likely that he’ll break it.”

"could maybe try asking ukai? but that geezer will probably say no just to fuck with me."

there's no one else around or remotely in the area other than— oh hell no. his family restaurant is just off campus and wouldn't take too long for you to get there and back to class later but just the thought of needing help from that guy sickens you to the pits of your stomach. but beggars can't be choosers, and the you of today chooses the only option that will secure you your grade.

your last option is unfortunately, miya osamu — next in line to run onigiri miya, mister “i’m going to be the best in the academy”, always trying to one-up you, stupid grey-haired baseball cap wearing bane of your existence.

the trek there thankfully isn’t too long since your dorm is closer to the edge of campus, and the little diner just a stone’s throw away from the road leading to the academy gates. the small shopping district is pretty quiet at this time of the day, most middle and public high school kids still having classes and the salary men slaving their lives away at their desks in air-conditioned offices.

before long, you’re standing in front of onigiri miya, the warm lights from inside the store seeping out through the whites of the sliding door. taking a deep breath and bracing yourself to face him, you raise your fist and knock to announce your arrival and gently pull it open.

“i have to say, you’re the last person i expected to see walk through those doors willingly. this better be good.”

osamu stands with his arms crossed, clad in his usual black tee and matching hat, waist apron printed with the logo crest of onigiri miya. his eyebrows are raised in faux surprise, almost teasing as he gives your figure an up down with his trademark lazy patronising smile.

you scoff, walking past him and straight to the counter seats, placing your bag on the light wooden surface, “don’t flatter yourself miya, i’m not here to see you.”

shaking his head and turning around, he heads behind the counter and leans forward, resting on his forearms, “yeah? why else would you be here then?”

he’s close, a little too close and you take a step back, placing your hand atop his head and pushing him away, face warming up in embarrassment, “shut up.”

with a sigh, your reluctantly murmur the next four words, “i need your help.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t quite hear you there, come again?” you desperately want to slap that shit eating grin off his equally handsome and annoying face, he definitely heard you and is messing with you, but what did you expect really?

raising your voice, you snarl, but the impact’s dulled with your inability to meet his eyes, “i said, i need your help, you little bitch.”

osamu chuckles, you’re cute. you must’ve been at your wits end to even bother coming to him for help.

he claps and rubs his hands together, “okay then, how can i be of service?”

you explain the situation at the expense of a few jabs and lighthearted insults from him, how so very childish. the plan is to recreate the concoction of a sauce that you made last night, current sitting in all its glory in the dorm’s kitchen, the same dorm that you’ve conveniently locked yourself out of. he agrees that it’s the most logical solution, seeing that you already know the proportions and just don’t have access to the ingredients, which he can provide his disposal at the restaurant.

he’s surprisingly focused and helpful, even with his provoking comments once in a while, studying your recipe and even making a few samples on the side with additions that he thinks might complement or enhance the flavour palate that you’re going for with your dish. you notice little things that you didn’t before— his tongue pokes out of his mouth when he’s in the zone, he furrows his eyebrows when processing a taste and the way his nose scrunches if it tastes a little odd.

as much as osamu’s existence pisses you off, you can’t deny that he’s good at what he does and completely justified in aiming for the top seat. he’s not arrogant, just extremely sure of himself and his abilities, a quality you wish you had in this competitively and highly individualistic field. what’s the point of someone having your back if you can’t have your own? some days, a little self-assurance goes a long way.

with a few last minute tweaks to your original proportions (courtesy of him), a new bottle of liquid gold sits in the palm of your hand, an even better version of what you had, if it was even possible.

nudging your shoulder with his, he looks over at you with an annoying smirk, “everyone say thank you osamu!”

“tch, shut up.” you roll your eyes, nudging him back with more force, enough to cause him to stumble over his feet as you bite back a laugh.

you eye the clock, there’s still plenty of time before your class begins and as you think about the lunch that you supposed to cook for yourself back at the dorms, your stomach lets out a series of gurgles, your face simultaneously flushing with embarrassment.

wordlessly, osamu begins whipping up something in the kitchen, a fresh fragrance hitting your senses and filling the air. as much as you hate to deny it, your mouth waters in anticipation and you bashfully shuffle behind him to peek at what he’s doing.

he just glances at you over his shoulder and juts his chin out in the direction of the counter seats, “sit down, i’m making you something to eat.”

raising your nose in mock defiance, you scoff, “who said i was staying for lunch?”

he just shoos you away with the wave of his hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes, “just let me make you something that’ll make you say it’s delicious, trust me.”

it’s been a running thing between the two of you since you met in a class and demanded to try his food after his grand declaration of being the top. you’re both prodigies in your own right, and you just wanted to see if the man could deliver as he spoke. don’t get it wrong, his dish was absolutely divine and brought you back to memories of your childhood home and running around in the backyard with dirt covered sandals chasing dragonflies, but you refused to admit that there was someone up to par, barely choking out an unconvincing, “tastes like shit.” before shoving your dish in his face.

it’s no different this time, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the calm and humble atmosphere of onigiri miya, the domesticity of watching him cook in the comfort of his home kitchen, or just how hungry you are, but all it takes is one bite before you start unabashedly scarfing down his delicious creation.

if he’s smug about it he doesn’t show it, choosing to savour the rare peace and quiet of non-bickering, but silently knowing that perhaps he has won this time. wiping the sweat off his brow, he leans against the staff doorway and watches you eat with a soft smile, munching on his own onigiri.

“hey, wanna walk to campus together?”

notes. wyr !! always a pleasure seeing you in my notifs !! ALSO CAN I JUST SAY, THE WAY I INTERNALLY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW YOUR REQUEST !! my mind went straight to food wars and this is heavily inspired by that < 3

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.