#like. this is a sign from above that i need to start spending every fucking waking moment on math and actually try to learn this shit fr

[hismercytomyjustice]

FINALLY MY TIME HAS COME

But no, I don’t have cleaning/organization OCD. I moreso have “pure O” where most of my compulsions are “invisible” in that they’re mental.

Shit like ruminating thoughts which turn into OCD spirals I struggle to get out of. Mostly around morality and desiring unattainable levels of perfection in all things.

Like “if I do the thing, I have to do it perfectly” and then get stuck mapping out what “perfectly” is in my head. To the point I overwhelm and mentally exhaust myself and don’t do the thing. And then I get to deal with guilt spirals! Yay!

Which is why it crops up in places like “I need to walk my dogs” and “I want to learn piano.” Because I spend so much fucking time ruminating over “the best” way to do something.

Like with piano. I started taking lessons after agonizing over whether or not I should (ex. what if I don’t practice enough, what if I change my mind, what if I disappoint my teacher, what if I’m taking a spot from a potential student who was more dedicated, etc).

But I signed up! And I actually do practice! More than I’ve ever practiced an instrument before in my life! And I minored in music (specifically violin)! Which should make me feel fulfilled and proud and happy, right?

Right???!!!

NOT WHEN MY OCD GETS LOUD.

Then I get to experience Fun Things™ like panic attacks because I “haven’t practiced enough and I’m going to disappoint my teacher.” I’m also #blessed in that I tend to be a fast learner, so a lot of stuff comes fairly easily to me. Not piano! And my brain DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT THAT. Because WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’m not immediately good at something?!

Because to my OCD, me being good at something = me having value as a person. And if I’m not good at something or doing enough to get good at something, then “I am a failure, what am I doing with my life, I am a disappointment to myself and everyone unlucky enough to get caught in my orbit, I will never accomplish anything, why do I even exist (as in I have no purpose in life and will die one day knowing I never did anything worthwhile),” etc etc etc.

Which has led to having to unpack a lot of insecurities and all (see above) that I didn’t know I had. And has led to my therapist repeatedly telling me to stop being so mean to myself and to put less pressure on myself.

Lol I feel like 90% of my sessions with her are “here are all the ways I am failing to be a perfect person who gives 200% in all things” and her being like “…you know that is not actually possible right?”

Of course it isn’t! But try telling my OCD that!

So that’s how I go from “it’d be neat to learn piano” to “I will one day die knowing I squandered my life and somehow ruined everyone else’s lives in the process”!

Rinse and repeat! About every fucking thing in my life!

Yay!

But that’s what therapy is for! And OCD is NEVER CORRECT. So you just have to get up every day and live an exposure based lifestyle, constantly making yourself do or not do all the things your OCD tries to convince you are life and death should you ignore it.

And it gets easier the more you do it, but fuck it is a lot of work. And so much of it involves making sure you build a strong foundation for yourself so it’s harder to knock you off of it when life tries to take you out at the kneecaps with a baseball bat.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[wewontbesleeping]

well. i took the exam i've been dreading all week, so much so that i put it off until the very last moment and got a 10 point late penalty. and i got 92%. i'm. so fucking shocked. lol.

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment 

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription 

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again? 

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

Start saving right heckin’ now!

If you want to start small with your savings, consider signing up for an Acorns account! They round up your every purchase to the nearest dollar and save and invest the change for you. We like them so much we’ve generously allowed them to sponsor us with this affiliate link:

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[charlesslut16]

Hi love!!

Could you maybe write something for Max like, he and reader had feelings for each other but couldn’t be together and they would meet up secretly to spend time together and have angry, frustrated and sad sex 🥺

Sorry if I’m being vague with this suggested plot 😫 love your write ❤️

-in secret-

summary : you and max are not allowed to be together but you both do not care...

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, dom!max, sub!reader, a bit toxish, bit angst, rough sex, p in v, curse words, dirty talk, aftercare, unprotected sex (be safe!).

note : i hope you like it, love! Send in more requests!

masterlist 

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

Best Friends. That was what max and you had always been. Friends, since you were two years old. You met through your parents, who were friends themselves.

You spent days, weeks, months, and years together. The bond between the two of you was unbreakable. No one or nothing could ever tear you both from one another.

Except your parents. When you were 13 and max was 15, both your parents had a massive fight, which made your parents so mad that they decided to cut the friendship with max's parents.

They cut all the connections to one another. That meant that you and max had to be friends in secret to not upset or anger your parents. You had to meet up in secret to not be caught.

Lovers. Years later, the friendship between the two of you turned into more. You had started dating, when max had begun in Formula One, which made it even more difficult to meet up.

But you still tried to. When max was in the paddock in his drivers room, you snuck in and spent time with him until he needed to do media stuff or something else. It was great to spend time with your love, even if it was secret.

It was frustrating to not meet up at each other's houses, in the paddock or in a restaurant because you were too afraid that your parents would find out about your relationship.

Even now that you are 23 and 25, you were still in a secret relationship. You met up on weekends or when he was away, you flew there to support him in the shadows and met with him in the hotels in the evenings.

When you met there was talking, laughing and just having, but mostly there was sex. Sad, frustrated and angry sex. There was nothing better for your feeling than that.

Just as you were having now. You were frustrated and Max was angry because your parents told you that they found someone for you to have a relationship with.

He told you that he wanted to take his anger out on you, not that you minded one day. Max had always told you that you were destined to be with him and that would not change.

You laid naked on the hotel bed, max hovered over you and the anger clearly visible on his face. He gave you a kiss on your lips and then lined his cock up with your pussy.

Max looked at your face for consent, which you gladly gave him, and he stuck his cock into you. As max was halfway in he waited, so you could adjust to his size and then thrusted all of him into you.

You moaned his name out, and he groaned at the pleasure. He thrusted in and out of you, and you rolled your body to his rhythm to provide the most amount of pleasure.

He hissed above you, but you were too far gone to care. You had been for a while, too lost in the feeling of his hands against your hips, his cock dragging against you deliciously.

It was almost embarrassing how easily you let him have his way with you. Your body completely under his control, every gasp of his name only serving to feed his ego, encouraging him to go faster, harder, more, more, more—

“Max—!”

“That’s right, say my fucking name—”

If the squeaking of the old wooden bed he had taken you on wasn’t already a sign of what was happening in the room, the shameless moans escaping your lips would be.

“Let the entire hotel know whose cock you’re begging for.”

You did, without any thought to how loud you may be.The force of his thrusts were brutal against your backside, your body ached, and yet you couldn’t stop moving, desperately trying to meet his every thrust.

It was hopeless, but he seemed to enjoy your attempts at least, a wicked chuckle escaped him as he watched your body move on his own.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? To be used like a pleasure girl?” His body was pressed against your back now, the weight of him blanketed against you. Your breath caught in your throat, his lips whispering absolute filth into your ear.

“Your new 'boyfriend' which you will never get could never fuck you like I do. You will stay with me, like it is destined to be. I don't care what your parents, say, schatje.”

“I know, max. He could never fuck me like you could. But please stop or low don't I can't anymore.”

Max did not stop moving, how could he when you sounded absolutely debauched below him, a picture-perfect image of sin to be molded by his own hands.

He fucked you unrelenting, finding every single one of your weaknesses and taking advantage of them until you cry out that it’s too much, that you couldn’t take it, and didn't give you a moment of reprieve.

“You know? I'm not so sure about that.”

Max was taunting you, dangling your own shameful display in front of your very eyes. Even if you wanted to respond, you couldn’t, the sound of your hips meeting, echoing through the room proved answer enough.

He lets you go, only for that hand to grab your face, fingers pressed against your cheeks. He forced your tear-rimmed eyes to gaze at him from below, a contrast to the sinister look in his own.

“Can’t take it? Too much? I don’t think that’s true—” Another hard thrust had you keening, back arching, a fog of lust clouding your brain. “—I think you’re going to take everything I give and more.”

He was right, of course, and you did, graciously. Your legs threatened to give out, shaking, barely holding on, and in an act of mercy, he grabbed your weakened limbs with a strong hand. Practically a rag doll, legs wrapped around his body to bring him as close as possible. 

You could see him in this position, see the way his brows crease and furrow every time you clench onto his cock, the pleased grin that lingers when you grab onto his arms, seeking purchase.

It’s filthy. Max didn't think he’s seen anything more beautiful.

It’s addicting, sadistic in ways he never thought himself capable of. He can’t get enough.

A painful dance of give and take. He gave pleasure and took your very sanity with it. He took and took until you had nothing left to give, until you were a writhing mess of slurred words and half-mumbled promises.

Max could barely understand you at this point, your mind far away, but he doesn’t need to. He could understand your body well enough. But then both of you were finished, totally drained. You were in desperate need of sleep, and max was in need of cuddles. Max stood up and took a damp towel from the bathroom and cleaned you up.

He came in bed next to you, pulled you into him and cuddled you. Your head laid on his broad chest, while he stroked your hair and ran his hands up and down your arm.

“I want to tell our parents. I mean, we are adults, they can't do anything about it. It is draining, Max.”

“I know that it is draining, but we can do this together, my love. We can tell them that we are together and can start going out for real.”

“Yes, I would love that.”

“Ik hou van jou”

“Ik hou van jou”

I love you

[orbitariums]

FINALLY BLACK READER CHALLENGERS FICS WOOOO!!! plz do stanford!art dating black track star! reader👀👀 patrick can be involved too maybe he goes to stanford idk

no more running | art donaldson + black trackstar! reader

i know nothing about track (or tennis!) so bear with me

art was infatuated with you the moment he saw you at a track meet tashi’s dragged him to — he really had no interest in anything but tennis, that is until he saw you.

you were perfect, all silky brown skin and braids pulled up into a high ponytail, with the physique of a lioness. and it helps that your body's insane – you're visibly strong and you carry yourself well. you moved with a flourish, effortlessly and gracefully. nothing and nobody could stand in your way — except maybe art. you'd heard his name echoed all around campus for how much of a tennis god he was, but now, in front of you, he presented as anything but. he was stumbling over his words and his feet introducing himself to you, all crooked smiles and awkward handshakes.

"hi. i'm art. donaldson. art donaldson. but you can just call me art, obviously you don't have to call me by my full name, that would be weird."

you couldn't help but grin, though your brows furrowed together in confusion,

"right... hi. i'm—"

"yn. i know. i'm uhh, a friend of tashi's. you were really talented out there today."

"is my friend bothering you?" came tashi's voice from around the corner. you started packing your things in your duffel bag, shaking your head with a laugh that made art's heart melt,

"no, the opposite actually."

"great," tashi grinned knowingly. "well in that case... lunch?"

it was history from there. art started showing up to all your meets, and you to his tennis games. it was cute, the way you cheered each other on and pretended it was nothing more than camaraderie and sportsmanship between friends. the way you pretended art's bicep flexing with every thwack his racket made against the tennis ball didn't make your throat run dry. the way art pretended watching you stretch on the field before a match, your shorts lifting up to reveal the expanse of skin just above your thigh didn't make him shift in his seat.

if patrick weren't with tashi, he'd probably go for you too, and art knew it. it's why he almost gets defensive when patrick comes to visit and the four of you go on these little psuedo double dates, since neither you nor art had addressed the fact that you wanted each other. he was always courteous with you, but he made sure to hold every door open for you, pull out every chair, and even paid for your food. it was like he was showing patrick that this was his girl, and it amused patrick so much that he told art,

"if you're gonna fuck her, just do it. you don't need to go getting my approval."

"i'm not trying to fuck her, pat. and i'm not getting your approval. i just... i don't know, i want her to be mine."

"i'm pretty sure she's yours already, pal. have you seen the way you two act?

it's a slow burn, but it feels so good to wait. art kisses you finally during one of your study dates together — you both only have so much time to actually focus on school as student athletes, so you spend that time together — it's soft and longing and sweet. you become something of a power couple on campus, making signs for each others' games and running up to art on the field after he's won, letting him lift you up into his arms and swing you around — never mind the trophy.

art runs ice baths for you when you need them, and lets his strong hands groove into your sore muscles, blushing at your relieved moans. he's got no problem stretching you out in other ways too, fucking you slow and deep like he's just trying to pass the time inside you, spending hours letting your pleasure unfold before him. letting your fingernails leave scars on his back because he has enough already from his sport, what's a few more?

when you have early team meetings, art makes you breakfast and sends you off with your favorite strawberry smoothies he makes. he helps you with meal prep every week, spending hours in domestic bliss with you in your on-campus apartment. when you're not studying together or sleeping together, you're at the gym together, art's hands hovering just by your hips to "help spot you" during deadlift squats.

on your media day, art helps you slick your natural hair up into a bun, aghast at how much edge control you insist on using. he also insists on teaching you to play tennis — you're vehemently against it at first, but you realize how much it actually improves your game. and you don't mind art cozying up behind you to "improve your backhand," even if it means you end up with your tennis skirt flipped over and the racket long forgotten. the same goes for art, except he just wants to curse you out after the first time you make him try uphill weighted sled sprints.

whatever you do, you do it together. you just get each other. and art knows he's found something special in you.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Stephen was the above average joe. Muscular. Huge package. Standing at 6’4”. When he walked into a room people stopped and stared looking a the muscled specimen that heaved the room. And with large size 16 feet you could hear him coming too.

Stephen had a perfect life but where someone is so perfect there has to be a downfall. Stephen’s was that he always took advantage of those close to him. He was able to be so muscular and hot spending all his time in the gym and never once helping his boyfriend, Matt, pay for rent. He was a leach. Every night he would come home dripping sweat. Kick off his massive shoes leaving them where they fell. He would drop his dirty sweat clothes in the hall way and never clean after himself. Then while still dropping sweat, flop down on the couch. Staining even more than what he already has. But it was time. And his boyfriend had had enough.

While Stephen fell asleep like he always did on the couch, his boyfriend still in front of him with a menacing glance. Holding the book he had from his family he began to chant the spell to make Stephen change.

Stephen was dreaming about plowing the hot gym bunny. Bending him over the sink and thrusting himself in. And all the while began to scream while he was having sex …

“….and this vessel must change to meet this new form!” His boy friend finished reading. And then he seen the fine print,,, there had to be an agreement from the one the spell was going to effect. He began to panic. How would he get Stephen to agree to…”YES YES ! FUCK ME !!!” Matt’s mouth dropped. How could this have happened in a more perfect moment. Stepping back slowly he hid the book. Now. Watching as his boyfriend began to change.

Soon Stephen’s well defined abs began to push outwards. His legs began to get fuller and he also began to shrink in height. His pecs quickly lost all definition as they were hidden under a thick layer of fat and his stomach continued to balloon out warden. Hair began to sprout from ever office of his body giving him in a thick coat of fur. His feet got shorter becoming a size of extremely wide and thick size 11s. He had little sausage toes now while his fingers fattened up. His butt began to inflate and sag as it widened and his back began to grow wide to match. A thick unkempt beard began to grow out of his face while he started balding. What was once a hunk before now looked like an out of shape 45 year old man. Matt smiled at his creation. Knowing that there was more to come.

Matt woke up to screams from the living room. Walking in he seen Stephen looking at his phone and trembling. “What the fuck has happened to me !!” Matt asked him. What he was talking about. All a part of his plan to make Stephen lose his mind. He was going to treat Stephen like the fat older man he was now. Even though he was the only other person in the world now that would remember what he is really supposed to be like. “Phen. You need to stop acting weird. It’s time for you to go to work. I wasn’t able to wash your janitor uniform though. “ Stephen just looked at him. Whatever happened seemed to have changed reality he thought. He had to get out of there. And sadly. It seems as though the dirty uniform was the only thing that would fit him. Before he left the apartment Matt handed him some pills “don’t forget your pills Phen. You know you need your heart meds and that cholesterol needs to come down. Try not to eat those 4 double cheeseburger for lunch again” he said as he kissed Stephen’s fatter face.

Work was hard for Stephen. He found that at his new size and short let height he was screed on all aspects of life now. He was the lowly janitor of the gym he worked at ! And people would just throw dirty clothes on him and expect him to always be at their whim for cleaning. During his lunch break he wanted to find a way to fix this. He had to get his old body back ! But then he caught glimpse of it. The burger signs. And drawn by an impossible force he walked over. Walking through the doors he was greeted by the cashier. Working his wallet out of his pocket with his meaty hands he paid for his food. 5 double cheeseburgers. And he ate ever bite. Licking the grease from the wrappers and his fingers. He was forced by some unseen force to be the fat animal he looked like. Walking back home he could help but feel winded. His lunch should have. Been enough to make him feel full for days but his stomach was growling like an angry bear. He felt so tired. As he walked through the apartment door he shuffled his wide feet down the hallway and looking in the mirror began to cry.

Somehow during the day he had gotten older. And much bigger. What little muscle definition he had was completely gone. Now his stomach was rock hard and protruding in an impossible beach ball stomach. Completely bald with white facial hair. Matt came around the corner and Stephen cried. He pleaded for Matt to remember him. “Phen. Are you ok? I know you’re jealous of my youth. But we’ve talked about this. You’re a 61 year old man. You have to come to terms with that!” And he walked off. That number reverberated in Stephen’s head.

Walking around the beach no was no longer fun for Stephen. He was getting looks now but not for his hot young body. It was for the massive beach ball he carried. He had been stuck like this for a whole month at this point. Continuing to try to find a way to change back there just has to be one. Matt came walking up to him with food. “You know one day. I’m going to stop giving into her hunger. We gotta find someway to get you. Lose weight Phen”. Phen aggressively at the multiple cheese burgers, fries and shake that Matt had brought him. Matt watched his creation. Everything from that night with spell had come true. An intense appetite that never went away, old age, massive bloated stomach with no muscle definition, and all the pains that would come with his body being like this. He knew that Phen was trying to find a way back. To get his old body back so he could be happy. But little did he know, that the Matt altered the working of the spell. “And when you agree to this the changes will be permanent”.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hiii!!! Love thy works!

If it's alright with you, may I please request Regina George x Reader?

Scenario: Every day, the reader comes to school with all sorts of bruises and injuries. Like, every single day. That's when, Regina finds out that the reader is part of an underground fight club to pay for their sickly mother's treatment because the reader is very poor.

Always Hurt

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, little agnsty, reader's mother is sick, injured reader, short fic

|| Summary; reader was always hurt when they came to school. Always. Regina finally has enough and decides to ask them about it.

Requests open!

Started; September 19th

Finished; September 19th

~~~

Regina was sick of seeing you with some new injury every day. Every time she laid eyes on you there would be some new bandage wrap added to your body. Today was her final straw when she saw the stitch just above your eye.

She walked right over to your locker, crowds splitting so she could get through. Regina cleared her throat to get your attention as her arms folded across her chest," What the actual fuck?"

You immediately froze. A million different scenarios ran through your head as you looked at your girlfriend, seeing the intense gaze she had on you. No, not on you. Well yes on you but focused on something just above your eyes. Then you remembered your stitches. Great...

"Regina-"

"I need names, Y/N." Her tone was just as demanding as that look in her eyes. You swallowed.

"Names..?"

"Who's been doing this to you?" She gestured to all of you. Which made you sigh.

"Technically, me." You stated as you pulled out your text book, then paused when you saw the startled look on your girlfriend's face and realized how that must have sounded," No, no. God. That came out wrong. I mean. I signed up for a fight clu-"

The words weren't even out of your mouth when Regina spoke," I'm sorry, what? FIGHT CLUB? ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY-"

This time you cut her off, cupping your hand to her mouth as you dragged her to the closest bathroom. She bit your hand which made you flinch and let go, shaking your hand slightly.

"Ow."

"Deserved." Regina scoffed," I can't believe how absolutely moronic you are. Joining a fight club? I can't express this enough, what the HELL?"

You grimaced as she raised her voice and tried arguing your side, but she just cut you off again.

"You better have a damn good reason, Y/N because I swear-"

"It's for my mom!" You kind of just blurted it out. Trying to let yourself be heard over Regina's rant.

Regina paused as she heard you and studied your expression, you looked like you were on the verge of tears. Which made her reel in just a little. She could tell you weren't lying to her.

"It's for my mom..." You repeated, your voice almost a whispered murmur now," she hasn't been doing great and this was the only job I could get that would actually pay what I need for her recovery and I-"

"Your mom's sick?" Regina asked, you nodded.

"She has been for a while."

Regina sighed and flicked your forehead, you swatted her hand away," You're still moronic. You could have come to me. I spend probably what you need on shoes alone." She rolled her eyes, arms back across her chest," my parents wouldn't notice if it was missing."

"You'd do that..?" You just stared at her. Trying your best not to cry.

"Well it's either that or watch you get your stupid ass beat. What do you think I'm picking, dumbass?"

You laughed a little, despite it all. Then pulled Regina into a tight hug, one that she was about to pull away from until she heard your sobs. She grumbled and gave your back a pat. Not being the best at comforting.

"Three, two..." She then started counting once the hug went on a little too long for her public comfort, you quickly let go. Understanding her boundary.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She started walking out of the bathroom, with you following. She looked back at you," Seriously. Don't."

"Scared people will think you're soft?" You gave her a playful nudge.

"You're fucking stupid." She muttered.

"I love you too." You gave her forehead a kiss and she pushed you away from her, which made you laugh.

She really tries to act like she doesn't care.

[popcornforone]

Handy

A Dave York Fic

Day 17 of Pedrotober (Arm Sling Prompt)

Masterlist

You wait half of Pedrotober for a Dave Fic & you get 2 in 4 days. Thank you all for the love of the first one by the way. Every time I’ve picked up my phone it’s said someone has liked & reblogged it. It really means the world. Also Dave the only one other than Ezra who we might find in an arm sling.

Synopsis:- Daves most recent injury from a mission isn’t one you can resolve, without going to hospital.

Word count:- 1250

Warnings over & above:- oral sex (female receiving) fingering, rule breaking, injury detail, meds, swearing & as always DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING! Cos he’s a menace & controlling

Thanks as always for the read peoples. Hope you are loving this & thats @norththelemon & @alyssamariag for the prompts.

You’re sat in the emergency room waiting for ages. He hates it when you force him to do this. He’s usually certain you can resolve any medical issue he has. But when his shoulder wouldn’t pop back into its socket at all, you had to get some trained medical help for him. It was easy to explain that he “fell through the fence”, it would match the scars on that side of the fence that you’d badly sorted out as he sat there groaning about his shoulder. Looked like you’d done your wife duty for your husband patching him up. But the shoulder wouldn’t go. So now Dave is getting the best care available. At least it’s not a bullet that you have to explain. No longer are you squeamish, blood & stiches are now at least a monthly occurrence.

Out he step 5 hours later, your bad stitching redone, his arm in a dark blue sling. A few more bruises have come through but other than that, he’s still your menacingly handsome Dave York.

“Tadah” He states & try’s to stretch but winces, clearly still in some pain. “Good as new”

“Well next time baby if you pop your shoulder out we’re coming straight here.” He raises an eyebrow at you & you quickly cover your tracks. “He plays lots of sports, is very active, usually we can pop dislocations back in.” Dave rolls his eyes, clearly you’ve said too much & a doctor tells you both how many meds he should take for the pain & signs him off work for a week. You can see from the look in Daves eyes that he has no intention in taking them & that he will be back in the office tomorrow, maybe not on a mission but planning the next one. You both know you have stronger medication at home, not that Dave will even take that.

As you unlock the front door about an hour later, Dave pushes you inside quickly & shuts the door behind the two of you, pinning you against the wall. Even with his arm in a sling he’s still so powerful. You’ve never complained about being man handled by him, you like the rough.

“I’m a sports guy huh?” He says with a grin. “I play hard… & rough… I’m active?” You gulp, you know the mood he’s in. Your eyes dilated.

“Yes sir” you whimper, your thighs part slightly. “I only pick the best boys on the team to be mine.”

“Thought you wanted a man?” He kicks your legs apart. “A man who still has needs”

“Well good luck with that, doctor said no physical excursion for 10 days minimum” you chuckle & boop his nose, he knows you are right but he still has wickedness in his eyes.

“There are other ways I can get my desire” he said. His crazy possessive eyes never leaving yours, he takes a deep breath & then his lips meet yours. The tongue went in on the first date & sex happened date three. You were married in a year & cutting out his 5th bullet in 18 months. The man’s always been crazy about you, not one to be held back & the way his tongue takes in every cavity as you panties dampening. You’ve always been crazy about Dave too.

“Fuck Dave” you moan as you catch your breath as he starts leaving little love bits on your neck. You spend more time doing make up on your neck that your face, he just loves that little crook to much. He grabs your arm & pulls you into the lounge with the hand that works. He then sighs as he pushes you away before he drops to his knees.

“I need a reward”

“For being brave”

“No for going to hospital” he growls tugging at your jeans. For a man with only one hand he’s still very good at using just that.

“Doctor said no over doing it Dave…”

“Sit on my face!” It’s a firm command as your jeans reach your ankles. He kisses up both of your legs. Your thighs always tremble. He then shuffles back the perches up in the sofa behind him. “That’s not a request sweetheart” he snarls licking his lips. “I want you to walk towards me in just your panties & then stand on the sofa & let me do my magic” you look excitedly back at Dave. It’s rare he lets you receive oral first. You tug on your red panties as he gets comfortable.

“Yes sir, anything for my big brave broad husband”. You do as he requested naked except for the panties. He rubs his thighs as you walk towards him, seeing his erection get ever bigger. You stand on the sofa & he whimpers.

“I can smell how ready you are, for me baby” he says eyes dilated he’s trying not to droll. “Lower baby” you do as he asks & he slips your red panties to the side. His large nose already nuzzling against your clit. You grip the top of the sofa. “Gonna need your body to do some work baby” he says. You know exactly how you want this to feel so you start to rub your clit against his nose & you moan as your entrance feels every couple of moves his flat tongue against him.

“Fuck Dave”

“Yea baby like that, enjoying it” you moan & gasp. “Take that as a yes.” He’s freed his hand from his sling & you go to protest but as he grabs both your thighs & brings you fully down on his face your whine.

“Oooh fuckerty fuck”

“Yea baby” in his tongue slips. It’s not as far as his cock or even his fingers, but you’re fluttering & tense in all of those sensitive places. You love it when he eats you out.

“Dave oh god Dave yes yes yes more” you then wince. Two fingers slip it side you & his tongue is now souly attending your clit. Your hips rocking, the grip on the back of the sofa turning your knuckles white. The rhythm increasing, your moans getting louder. It’s a good thing you dropped the kids off at your parents before taking Dave to hospital.

“Dave im close fuck I’m gonna cum, oh god oh god yes yes yesss fuckkkkk” you can’t hold on when he adds a final finger. Sloppy noises from his thrusting fill the air & you become a quivering wreck as you cum. Dave sighs. He withdraws his sodden fingers & returns his mouth to your sex. His bad arms your carefully take as that had been the one pleasuring you & you suck his fingers cleans. You know that always makes him happy when you clean up the mess.

“Fuck baby” he says as you slowly lower yourself off him & readjust your underwear & sit on the sofa next to him. “Why do you always taste of heaven down there”

“Cos you are the devil & need a taste of sweetness” you cackle before kissing him.

“Who says we are done tonight?” He replies. “Maybe this Angel needs a taste of hell”

“Well let me at least get you into bed first, then I will suck your cock til you can’t cum anymore”

“Is that a challenge?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well let’s see if your up for it Dave”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

A New Friend (Part 1/2)

pairing: park ranger!frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (mild sexual desire but nothing even mildly explicit, reader has a douchey boyfriend, breakups, frankie is an angel because i said so, just cutesy flirting mostly, we get sexy in part two don’t worry)

wc: 4k

frankie masterlist

Where the fuck am I?

You turned to study the woods around you, the trees notched with marks you’d made after having watched one too many survival shows on your couch looking a little too familiar for comfort.

You’d been trying to find your way back to the trail for two hours now, sunset turning into night before your eyes.

Now, you had to come to terms with the fact that you were indeed very lost, going in circles when you were supposed to be heading south—you were supposed to be heading south, right?—to your campsite, the campsite your boyfriend and his friends were at getting shitfaced, likely not even noticing your absence.

As you wandered the dark woods in hopes of finding any sort of sign or guide to safety with your dull flashlight, you considered why you even came along on this trip in the first place.

This weekend marked your fifth anniversary, plans of a trip for just the two of you becoming quickly derailed by the unexpected—at least on your part—visit of his two best friends who showed up and invited him out for a camping trip. Not wanting to spend the weekend all by yourself, contemplating the future of your relationship, you decided to join them, much to their dismay judging by the way they’d been ignoring you since the start of the trip.

This evening, you decided to go out on a walk to get some much needed air from the men who were busy pretending you didn’t exist—including your partner. That’s how you found yourself lost, stuck stumbling through a navy blue washed forest, every sound heightened from fear, your brain creating scenario after scenario of how you’d reach your demise. Be it a bear or a bobcat, a stranger or nature, your anxious heart was sure somehow, this would be the end for you if you didn’t find safety.

Luckily, after a few minutes of hopeless navigating, your flashlight shined on a wooden sign with an arrow pointing left, “Ranger Station: ¼ Mile”.

“Thank god,” you exhaled, nodding as you started off in the direction of the well-used path.

As if the universe were laughing at you, halfway to the station, you began to feel a light drizzle from the blackened skies above, the clouds that had looked harmless this afternoon now slate-grey and rumbling. Shaking your head at your luck, you started to move quicker, but it seemed the rain had the same idea, the drizzle quickly spiraling to a full downpour by the time you walked up the steps to the Ranger’s lodge.

“Please be open,” you mumbled to yourself, noticing that the lights were off inside the tiny cabin. “Please, someone fucking be here.”

You pounded on the door after your knocks failed to earn a response, your eyes frantically looking around the building for any sign of life that could help (or hurt) you. Suddenly, your luck seemed to turn as a man dressed in a tight, form fitting uniform of khaki and forest green came running up the pathway with his coat thrown over his head.

“Excuse me!” you called out over the loud, crashing thunder, pulling his eyes from the ground up to yours. He seemed startled to see you standing there, drenched from the downpour and helpless.

“Oh—sorry,” he apologized as he stepped up the porch to unlock the cabin door, guiding you inside with the flick of a light switch. “I was out sweeping for stragglers when it started to get dark, must’ve missed you.”

“I got myself pretty lost, I don’t blame you,” you chuckled, overcome by the immediate relief brought on by shelter and warmth.

The cabin was small, a warm little space washed in golden light. There was a plaid loveseat in front of a fireplace, a half-read book laying on the coffee table in front of it. Turning your head a bit, there was a kitchen nook built in, nothing extravagant, just a mini-fridge, microwave, portable stovetop, some pots and pans, and a coffee machine. Beside the kitchen rested a desk that looked more like a dinner table, littered with papers and manilla folders as well as a closed laptop. Above, there was a loft built in, though you figured you’d need to climb up there yourself if you intended to study the layout.

“So,” the Ranger’s husky, low voice interrupted your snooping. You turned to watch him as he hung his coat up on the hook by the door before kicking his boots off. “How can I help you? You mentioned you were lost?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, clearing your throat. “I don’t remember the campsite location. I’ve been wandering for hours now.”

“By yourself?” he questioned, a crease forming between his brow as he studied you better, his eyes raking over your entire form before the reality of your soaked state dawned on him. “You cold? I have some tea, or…coffee?”

“Tea sounds great, thank you.” You watched him as he nodded, walking over to the kitchen nook to get the stovetop heated and water placed in the kettle he had hidden in a cupboard. Meanwhile, you looked longingly at the fireplace, hoping that he’d notice your shiver and light it. “Do you…possibly have a spare set of clothes? Anything would help, really.”

“Oh. Sure,” he nodded, avoiding your eyes but remaining attentive as he left the kettle on the burner and walked over to a closet by the door. He tugged out a plastic bin and lifted the lid off, a stack of brand new ranger uniforms inside. “What’s your size?”

You begrudgingly disclosed that information in exchange for warmth, and soon he was setting a pair of forest green pants and a beige t-shirt in your open palms.

“Uh, the restroom’s right there.” He pointed at the closed door in the corner of the room. “I’ll light the fire.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a smile but he was still avoiding looking at you directly, so it went unseen. With an awkward nod to him, you walked into the tiny bathroom to undress and redress, the full-length mirror mounted on the door serving as a good source of entertainment as you studied the way you looked in the ranger’s uniform, the pants undeniably, and shockingly, hugging every good curve on your body.

“The, uh, tea is ready when you are!” His voice sounded through the wooden door, making you jump as you posed in the mirror. gathering your damp clothes in your hands, making sure to hide your undergarments in the pile, you walked back out into the living room, spotting the man in uniform sitting at the table/work area with a mug of his own. “Yours is on the coffee table.”

“Thank you so much, for all of this,” you gestured around and he gave you a nod, no sign of a smile on his face, but there was no apparent anger or discomfort either. “My, uh, my name is…” You gave him your name and offered another friendly smile.

“I’m Frankie,” he greeted you back. Still no smile. “The storm is gonna go on all night. I think the odds of getting back to your campsite are slim, unfortunately.”

Your heart sank a bit at the news. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust this handsome ranger to house you for a night, but the thought of being an inconvenience to yet another person made you feel sick.

“I, um, I have a tent, so…I can stay outside and you can stay in here,” he offered.

“I know I’m not an expert at this stuff but that doesn’t sound very safe.”

“There's a cover, so, it’s not too bad. Your comfort and safety take precedence. It’s sorta my job.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“I appreciate the thought, but honestly, I think I would feel more comfortable with you in here with me.” You weren’t sure why you cared so much about keeping this glum ranger around, but there was something in his eyes, in his voice that calmed you in a way you desperately craved after the weekend you had. You weren’t naive to the deceit of men, but you truly believed this one meant you no harm. Besides, you were pretty sure sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight anyway.

“Okay,” he agreed, his voice softer than before. “There’s, uh, not much for entertainment around here.” He chuckled, watching you as you set your clothes down by the fireplace before taking a seat on the sofa. “There’s books. Lots of books, but I know that’s not everyone���s—“

“Oh, I just finished this,” you interrupted him by picking up the book from the coffee table.

“Did—was the end any good?” he asked, standing up from the table and walking over to the kitchen nook to refill his mug.

“It was. Are you liking it so far?” You turned to watch him, the sight of his shirt straining against his broad back making you feel like a cheater for the lustful images your brain decided to flood your mind with.

“I am, but I’m an anxious reader. Constantly have to fight the urge to flip to the last pages.” He laughed again and you felt yourself melt further into the sofa. “So, are you camping alone, too?”

“No,” you sighed as you shook your head and set the book down.

“Touchy subject?” he guessed, resuming his seat at the table.

“I don’t know,” you exhaled and scratched your neck, chuckling at your own predicament. “It’s my anniversary tonight, and instead of spending it with my boyfriend and his two closest friends in the middle of the woods, I’m spending it with a stranger…ranger?”

He chuckled at the rhyme and let out a sympathetic sigh. “Can’t say the first option sounded very good, either.”

“No,” you nodded, looking to him with eager eyes. “It fucking sucks! And they were just ignoring me anyway. This is the most conversation I’ve had all weekend.”

“So is he like…an avid camper or something? You guys do this often?” Frankie questioned, sitting forward with his elbows on the table, his mug held in both hands.

“No, he’s just…an avid douchebag.” Frankie’s boisterous laugh both shocked and delighted you.

“Which is why, I’m assuming, you went and got lost in the woods by yourself?”

“Yep,” you sighed and shook your head. “And the sad thing is, I bet they haven’t even realized I left.”

“It sounds like you need to make this your last anniversary,” he advised, shrugging his shoulders when you turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sad whisper. “Sucks.”

Frankie studied you for a moment, something more earnest than sympathy in his eyes as you stared down at your lap, picking at your cuticles.

“Hey—“ He caught your attention, your eyes lifting to meet his from across the room. “I’ve got a few board games in case my daughter comes to stay with me on duty. We could…play one? Pass some time?”

Knowing that the only alternative was to dwell on the crumbling state of your relationship, you agreed with a soft, barely there smile and a nod.

Frankie sat down on the rug in front of the fire, clearing the coffee table before pointing to the stack of board games on the shelf below the wooden top.

“There’s Candyland, Life, Monopoly, Scrabble, and Uno.”

“Huh,” you smiled and thought about the options, your stress taken away by this kind and charming stranger tasked with sheltering you for the night, seemingly in more ways than one. “We can start with Candyland.”

“Start, huh? Gonna be up playing games all night?” he asked with a matching smile as he set up the board game. “I guess I’m not one to talk given my personal track record, but I heard that sometimes it helps to face your shit, not run from it.”

“I’ll face it in the morning,” you replied, soft and vulnerable. “Tonight, I just want to be a stranded woman in the woods playing Candyland with a park ranger.”

“Okay,” he rasped back with a smile and a nod.

“I hate you,” you kissed your teeth and rolled your eyes as you reached for the stack of Uno cards on the table, picking eight up and stuffing them in your hand previously only holding one, that near-victory long gone after he matched your +4 card. “You actually ruined my night, wow. How dare you?”

“Jeez,” he laughed and held his hands up in defense. “I didn’t expect such a violent reaction—“

“Oh, yeah right,” you rolled your eyes at him again before meeting his, your laughter fading into just a few soft, breathy chuckles the longer your eyes remained glued to his soft, brown, puppy-like stare.

“You, uh—“ he chuckled and looked down at his lap, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“No,” you giggled and urged him on. “Tell me.”

“You just have nice eyes. That’s all.” He shrugged and went to place a card on the stack, changing the color to red.

“I think you have nice eyes, as well,” you spoke softly, almost shyly as you searched your hand for an appropriate card, choosing a “reverse” card to lay on top of his. “Very puppy-dog.”

“Puppy-dog?” he asked in a laugh, amused by the unusual comparison. “Never heard that before.”

“You know, the way puppies look when they’re begging for scraps? You’ve got that same…charm, I guess. Like I couldn’t say no to you.” You mumbled the last sentence, the words not entirely meant for him to hear.

As much as you were enjoying your time with this handsome stranger and planned to end things with your boyfriend the minute you were reunited with him, you were still a taken woman. Cheating was never your thing, but you couldn’t deny the pull to the man sitting in front of you, illuminated and washed in the golden amber light of the fireplace, the buttons on his long-sleeved beige dress shirt undone at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“It’s getting late.” Frankie stood up abruptly and cleared his throat before looking at the watch on his wrist. “Two A.M. already. Sun’ll be up around six, we can head out and find your campsite then.”

“And in the meantime?” you asked, standing up as well though you weren’t sure why. Frankie’s eyes softened on you, not missing the hopeful twitch of your lip. He shook his head at you, but it was so subtle you nearly missed it.

“You’re…involved. It’s not cool,” he reminded, proving that at least one of you had your head screwed on right. “But believe me…I want to.”

“Yeah,” you nodded and looked down at your feet, embarrassed by the mere suggestion. “I—uh…yeah.”

“I’ll take the couch. You can go up into the loft. I have some clean pajamas on my bed, if you want.”

You climbed up the wooden ladder to the loft, finding a cozy space with a full-size mattress on the floor by a large window, a little lamp for reading in the corner, and a record player pre-loaded with a copy of Nirvana’s “Nevermind”. The rain was visible from the window, pattering on the glass while lightning struck in the distance, a loud boom of thunder cracking a few moments later. Lowering your eyes back to the bed, you spotted the set of red flannel pajamas at the foot.

“Mind turning the lights off so I can change?” you called out, and for a minute hoped he’d change his mind and come undress you himself.

“Sure thing,” he replied, and a moment later the cabin went black, except for the golden light of the fireplace.

You changed quickly, desperate to wear his clothes, to smell him up close for the first time, but the scent that flooded your nostrils was too clean, too soapy to have been him.

Now dressed, you walked to the fenced in ledge of the loft to watch him as he sat on the sofa, a book in hand. The fireplace illuminated him in a way that made him look painted, almost, like the product of an artist’s imagination. It was a painting you’d quite like to own, so that your eyes could study him everyday.

“Night,” he called, not looking up from his book.

“Good night,” you replied, smiling to yourself all the way to bed.

Hours had passed by, the sun now up but hidden behind the clouds, the rain pattering against the window calming to a light drizzle. You hadn’t fallen asleep the entire time, your mind spinning with thoughts of seeing your boyfriend again, of the conversation you needed to have before getting the fuck out of this godforsaken National Park.

“Morning,” Frankie greeted you as you stepped down the ladder to the main floor of the cabin. His smile served as a better stimulant than any coffee you’d ever consumed, your tired eyes going bright as you took in the sight of him scrambling eggs in the kitchenette. “Thought I should feed you before I take you back to the douchebags.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked as he scraped half of the pan of eggs onto one plate before repeating it with another. You pulled up a seat while he carried the food over, placing one in front of you and the other in front of the seat closest to yours. A smile tugged at your lips at his choice of seat.

“I tried,” you answered, remembering that he’d asked a question. “But…my brain doesn’t like to shut off.”

“I feel you there.” The sound of liquid pouring into a cup caught your attention before the waft of coffee hit your nose. You felt yourself salivating as he walked your cup over. “Creamer, sugar?”

“Neither,” you shook your head. “This is incredible, thank you, Frankie.”

“It’s no problem,” he assured as he sat down beside you. “Part of the job.”

“I doubt that,” you laughed.

“Keep the park and its visitors safe. That’s the entire job,” he argued with a tilt of his head, his fork stabbing at the eggs.

“So you do all this for every stray that shows up at your door?” you asked in a playful tone, hoping to conceal your hurt at the prospect of simply being an obligation to him even if that’s exactly what you were.

“No, I don’t typically let my strays wear my PJ’s when I shelter them.” He smiled, his eyes lowered to the flannel set you were still wearing. “And I never, ever, let them win at Candyland like I did with you.”

“Oh, let me win, huh? Someone’s a sore loser,” you teased, grinning at your eggs as you mindlessly stabbed at them. “Maybe we should have a rematch, then.”

“I was counting on it,” he replied. Your eyes lifted to meet his, both of you swallowing thickly at the tension that seemed to keep building with every passing second. “You should eat.”

“You should kiss me,” some out of character being possessing you replied, shocking not only him, but yourself as well. “I’m sorry. That was…god, that was way too forward. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, reaching his hand over to lower yours as it shielded your eyes in embarrassment. “Believe me. But I like you, or, could like you…a lot, I think…if we did this the right way, I mean. But kissing you now—“ He shook his head. “S’not the right way.”

“I know,” you exhaled and lifted your fork to your mouth, swallowing down a bite of food that you could hardly get down with all the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

It only took Frankie about half an hour on his quad to find your campsite based on your half-assed description, your arms hugging him closely as you sat behind him.

When you arrived, your eyes widened at the sight of the once clean grounds now littered with trash, the boys, their tents, and the truck you all came in long gone. All that remained was their garbage and your duffel bag, a note sticking out of it.

“Well,” he sighed as he parked the quad and turned it off. “They are indeed douchebags.”

“What the fuck?” you whispered, staring at the note. You turned to Frankie and shook your head, a tear falling down your cheek as you started to read the note out loud.

Since you want to be dramatic and run off all night, I’m gonna give you all the space you could ever want. I’m so done with your shit. Consider this me breaking up with you.

“Fuck,” Frankie shook his head and through your tear-blurred vision you could see his jaw clenched. Frankie climbed off the ATV and walked up to you, reaching for your hand as it crumbled the note up. “This guy is a fucking dick—beyond a fucking dick, he’s…they don’t make filthy enough curse words to describe how shitty he is. You deserve so much better than that.”

“How do you know that?” you sighed, pulling away from him to pick your bag up off the ground. Frankie quickly took it from you and walked it back to the ATV, tying it onto the back.

“I guess I don’t,” Frankie finally answered your question as he returned with a trash bag. “But, judging by how kind and friendly you’ve been so far…I’d say that alone makes you at the very least better than him.”

You huffed a weak laugh and smiled at the sight of his dress shirt stretching over his back as he bent down to clean the campsite. Feeling guilty for your ex-boyfriend’s sins, you rushed to help, practically stealing the bag from Frankie’s hands.

“Thank you, Frankie.” You gave him a sincere, heartfelt smile. “I’m really sorry you got dragged into all my bullshit—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile.

“Don’t apologize,” he ordered before checking his watch. “My shift’s over in an hour or so. Do you live in town? I can drive you home, if you want?”

“I do, and that would…that would be really nice.”

You attempted to keep your tears at bay as he started the quad up and turned back around. Here was this stranger, treating you better than your boyfriend of five years ever had, and he’d only known you for one fucking night.

Back at the cabin, Frankie left you with the WiFi password while he tended to his end-of-shift duties, knowing that your phone had no service and that you should probably update your loved ones on your whereabouts considering you technically went missing last night.

You called your best friend first, giving them the rundown on not only what happened between you and your now ex-boyfriend, but also the building tension between you and your knight in shining khaki, Frankie. After some much needed words of comfort and reassurance that you deserve someone better than your shitty ex, you said goodbye and hung up.

Next up was your ex. You’d planned on telling him off, on calling him out on all the shit you’d been putting up with since the beginning of your relationship, but you never got the chance. The fucker sent you straight to voicemail.

By the time Frankie arrived, you already cried out all the tears you felt your relationship deserved, which wasn’t much.

“Everything okay?” he asked, walking over to join you on the sofa.

“Yeah,” you gave him a soft smile. “Or at least it will be.”

“Breakups are hard,” he empathized, reaching a hand over to rest on your knee. You stared down at the contact with a smirk before looking back to his eyes, finding him deep in study as he watched you. “This might…might not be the right time, but…and it doesn’t have to be anything romantic, but…are you doing anything tonight? Maybe we could go out for a drink or go see a movie or…anything, really. I could be a friend.”

“I’d like you to be more than a friend, Frankie.”

“So would I…eventually,” he added with a smile. “But for now, I don’t want you rushing into anything with me. It’s…it’s easy to confuse distraction for acceptance. Believe me, I made a lot of mistakes after my divorce. And…I really don’t want to be a mistake or a distraction to you. So, for now…friends?”

You twisted your mouth as you smiled, looking down at his hand on your knee and resting yours on top of it.

“Friends.”

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[violetsaffron5]

Infinity

| Ao3 | Discord 18+ | Series Masterlist | Taglist | Chapter 13 |

12 | Skyline

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Recovering from the mishap that was your last mission, you and Satoru have a heart to heart on his infinity over the Tokyo skyline

words: 4119

cw: vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, face-slapping, breeding, creampie, feelings

an: getting close to the end of the story!

After collapsing in Gojo’s arms he took you to Shoko immediately. She was able to mend you enough to keep you alive, but unable to fully heal you due to the extent of your wounds and having other sorcerers she needed to heal and check in on, Nanami included.

Turns out, in a crisis, you likely could drain a sorcerer to death. Luckily Satoru arrived in time and was able to get you to stop draining Nanami before it came to that.

You slept for the first few days in the infirmary, barely stirring, barely waking enough to eat. When you finally came to, Shoko left you with the instructions to take things slow, let your body try to heal naturally, choosing her next words very carefully as she looked between you and Satoru:

“No fucking. At least until we know you’re truly fully healed.”

To which you replied “not gonna be an issue,” because you’re still hurt and upset with him.

Except it’s going to be a real fucking issue because he’s insisted you stay at his place, until Shoko signs off on your recovery.

Satoru thought you would try to make the argument that you need to feed to heal and that would be your quickest road to recovery, but you accepted the doctors orders without complaint to his annoyance. He wants it to be an issue, selfishly, which is partially why he wants you stay at his place until Shoko signs off on your recovery.

He knows you’re still mad at him, haven’t forgiven him, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t given him the time of day to explain, even after almost two weeks of essentially living together.

There’s a glint in your eye, the same one he saw that first night at the strip club. You’re hungry and your body is straining against itself wanting to heal but you won't let yourself cross that line. 

With him at least.

But when Nanami comes over to check in on you, you’re all “I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” and “please let me make it up to you,” with a warm smile that you aren’t showing to Satoru, beckoning Nanami to spend time with you on the terrace away from Satoru’s watchful gaze.

“You and Nanami seem to be getting closer. What’s that about?” Satoru asks, hands shoved in his pockets, overlooking the darkened horizon, lights from the city shining from below, jaw feathering in anticipation of your answer. Truly unsure if he wants to know.

Satoru insisted you spend time with him tonight, told you he had something special planned as he wrapped his arm around your waist to your annoyance but quickly clinging to him for dear life when you saw you were floating above Shibuya.

“What?” You ask incredulously, brows knitted together as you look up at him, legs dangling over a ledge he created with his Infinity.

He saw the way your lips moved seamlessly with Nanami’s, the way you pulled yourselves in closer to one another. What he’s unsure of is if something started between the two of you without him realizing and that’s why you were looking for any and every reason to distance yourself from him over the last several weeks.

Satoru never cared if one of the women he’s hooked up with would turn around and hook up with Suguru the next day or even in the same night. But it’s different with you. You give him a look and all his blood goes straight to his dick. He doesn’t like seeing the smile you give to others, the way you’re so keen on ditching him to be with anyone else.

When you’re around, you’re the only thing he’s able to see. A shining star in this dark, gruesome life he has to live.

“Just seems like you’re pretty comfortable-”

“Can you just stop with the jealousy act? It’s getting old. Besides, you don’t get to ask me that when you’ve been running around with every woman in the city!”

Satoru’s taken aback by your sudden outburst, watching as tears prick the corner of your eyes. This is the most you’ve spoken to him in a single sitting, having just provided him with basic yes and no answers or just flat out ignoring him and walking away.

“I’m not running around with anyone.”

“Then what are you doing when you’re ‘meeting with the higher ups’?” Your tone is a mixture of sarcasm laced with annoyance, “Because from what I hear, you use that as your excuse to sneak off with random women.”

“Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“Just… a rumor I heard, and it doesn't seem to be wrong since we ran into that woman you were clearly hooking up with when we went shopping.”

Closing his eyes, Satoru takes a deep breath before furrowing his brows, pinching the bridge of his nose, keeping his voice calm and collected.

“I went out with her once, we didn’t hook up. You’re trying to make it sound like I’m with a different woman every night. But that’s not possible is it? Because I spend the majority of my time with you.”

Your eyes meet Satoru’s and he can see the hurt in them as they flicker across his face, looking for your own answers on his sincerity. You must find what you’re looking for because after a few minutes of looking him over, you take your own deep breath before looking back over the skyline of the city.

“Nanami and I aren’t hooking up. He’s great, and I think he deserves all the happiness in the world, but we’re just friends.”

Satoru nods, accepting your answer before laying flat on his back, arms folded behind his heads, watching the stars twinkle and shine with an unimpeded view of them. You decide to join him, laying close in a similar position as he taps his foot into yours.

He tells you how he killed Toji after he assassinated a girl Satoru and Suguru were to protect before going on to assassinate Satoru as well. He also tells you about how after it happened, he rose like Jesus in flesh, high off his own power rambling about how he alone is the honored one.

“Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t mine, not in the way you’re thinking” Satoru states, he sees you shift, back straightening at their name before looking over at him from the corner of his eyes, “they’re Toji’s, but he didn’t want his kids to be bought by the Zenin’s when he died. The Gojo’s and Zenin’s hate each other, so I took their future strongest member. They’re better off with me than they are with the clan.”

“So,” Satoru slaps his hands on his thighs as he sits up, “we good now?” 

He turns to you, watching the way you take a deep breath and purse your lips into a thin line, nodding your head slowly. It’s quiet for several minutes as you think about his words, think about why he doesn’t want it to get out that he’s taking care of these two kids, and you understand why he didn’t tell you about them. He sees the guilt cross your face, eyes saddened at the way you jumped to conclusions without letting him explain for so long.

“You know, you made an impression on me when we first met?”

“Oh yeah?” He’s amused, you can hear the grin on his face without turning to see it.

“Mhm, I was- I don’t know, I was drawn to you and when you left I was -” 

“So incredibly horny?” You roll your eyes, smiling and bumping shoulders with him as he grins, watching the way you look up at the night sky.

He finds he likes having someone to come home to, so to speak. Having someone to spend his evenings with. Sure, there’s Suguru, and they’re best friends, he obviously enjoys hanging out with him too, but it’s different when it’s with you.

He looks at you with a small heartfelt smile, before looking back to the sky, watching the stars. He moves a hand from under his head, letting it find yours, intertwining your fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” Satoru asks as you sit back up, letting your legs dangle over the ledge he created with his infinity, watching the way the lights bounce and move in the city below.

He sits behind you, legs on either side, dangling off the ledge as well, his arms are wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, you feel your body relax to his touch for the first time in weeks, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Wondering when I’m going to get answers about what I am, I guess. Thinking I'm in over my head, sometimes wondering if moving here was the right call.”

It’s easier to admit tonight, after he’s been more open with you than ever before. Easier to admit when it’s just the two of you, tucked away in the night sky, out of the lights and into the darkness near the stars.

He sighs, “I’ve been looking for answers, but haven’t found any yet. Wanted you to focus on training, so I’ve been telling you I meet with the higher ups when I’m searching, because I haven’t wanted to get your hopes up. That or I hang out with the kids.”

You crane your neck, eyes flickering between his to see if it’s the truth. You find nothing but sincerity in his starry eyes. Sincerity and maybe a little too much passion as he watches your reaction.

It’s quiet for a while after that, you look out to the Tokyo skyline taking in his words, he looks at you, and he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. Pretty sure he’s been in love with you for a long time, actually.

You were always there, in the back of his mind, and he let some small part of himself hope he’d see you again one day. He didn’t really think much of it until Shoko asked why he’s able to remember your name, but not some girl he had just hooked up with.

He’d been with girls that were halfway memorable, some he couldn’t remember their name right after they told him, either way he’d block them after their night together. But not you. The two of you only met once, and he thought you were insane - the way you watched him kill a curse, no questions asked and then went walking around eating ice cream in New York, like you were on a fucking date.

He knew, before walking into the strip club that you had followed him to Japan, remembers how awful it was that you sat on Nanami’s lap, not his. How annoying it was at first when all he wanted to do was text you in the middle of the day when he sees something he thinks you’ll like.

And then he’s grinning again, lips ghosting your neck under your ear, chuckling at the way you squirm between his legs.

“You could quit Jujutsu,” he murmurs, hot breath tickling your ear, “sit at home, wait for me to come home and fuck your brains out so I can forget all the shit I have to deal with every day.”

“Satoru, the higher ups would have me executed, you know that.” You’re trying to steel yourself, not let him affect you so much - that’s been part of your training with him right? Ignore the distractions. But you can never ignore it when it’s him, so you’re leaning further into him, cocking your head to the side giving him better access to leave several kisses below your ear.

“They wouldn’t dare touch you,” his hands are in your hair, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. He always tastes like spearmint when he kisses you.

You sigh a deep heavy breath breaking the kiss before he has a chance to deepen it; he runs his nose along yours and you smile before standing, clearing your throat.

“So, tell me how this works.”

He watches you, confused, amused; a little annoyed he doesn't have you flat on your back right now, but you’re curious. You just learned more about him than anyone has in a long, long time and now you want to see how far you can push him. See how much of himself he’s willing to give.

“What do you want to know?”

“Mmm. Can people see us?”

He walks towards you, hands in his pocket, a smile on his face. “I can do a lot of things, but invisibility isn’t one of them.”

Satoru does explain the ins and outs of his technique, what he’s able to do, how he’s able to warp and hold the two of you on his infinity. He says you can take off your shoes and sprint away from him, both you and your shoes will still hold.

You’re staring at him, squinting, challenging him, planning to run off like he suggested. He stands, hands in his pocket, that same beautiful smirk plastered on his face as he lets his infinity under you drop.

It was only for a moment, enough to have your eyes wide and yelping, hands reaching out to him to try and grab the nearest thing to you to stop the fall. He laughs loudly as you glare up at him, it was barely an inch but it was enough to have your heart beating so hard it feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest.

He grabs your hand and pulls you into him, wrapping his free hand around your waist and watching your flickering eyes. He rubs circles on the small of your back, your breaths mixing and mingling with one another.

Satoru opens his mouth to say something but your lips are on his before the words are out; he’s kissing back, all teeth and tongue as he’s gripping your waist roughly, possessively, before lifting you by the backs of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

You’re expecting him to warp you back to his place, tie you up and fuck you senseless on his bed, maybe even the couch or his kitchen island. Instead, your back is hitting the hard surface of his infinity with a thump and he’s crawling on top of you, lifting your shirt over your chest so he can kiss and suck your tits.

It’s moving fast, passionate, a much needed release between two people who have been mad at each other over the last few weeks, afraid you were going to lose the other. You briefly wonder if you should heed Shoko’s suggestion, wait to have sex until she gives you the okay.

But Satoru’s unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down over your legs as he kisses a trail from the valley of your chest to the apex of your thighs.

Fuck it, you’ll make sure you’re healed while fucking him.

You’re removing your shirt as he undresses himself; you throw your clothes haphazardly onto his infinity nearby as he mumbles something about grabbing them later when you leave before he grabs a handful of your ass and pulls you into him.

Sitting up on your elbows, you watch as his head of snowy white hair dips between your thighs, leaving a kiss on each one before pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy, licking between your folds, avoiding your clit at all costs.

“Satoru, please,” you’re whining, breathy and eager, just the way you know he likes, but still, he doesn’t give in. He watches you, crystalline eyes shining in the lights as he licks over your clit with such a feather light touch it has you twitching under him like never before.

A pathetic, needy whine leaves your lips as you buck your hips against his tongue, searching for anything to give you more stimulation where he’s neglecting you. There’s a low rumble from between your legs, sending vibrations to your core as he watches the way you helplessly rut against his tongue.

You know why he’s doing this, why he’s teasing you this way. It’s his own twisted form of punishment for not letting him explain, not speaking to him and for avoiding him.

And also because he’s an asshole.

Which he proves further by tracing one small, light singular circle on your clit with his tongue, smiling against you as you writhe against him, hand in his hair tugging as hard as you can.

“Please, pleaseplease, Satoru, please,” you’re begging with no hope of ever finding your release, but he laughs again, his own patience wearing thin with his antics as he begins to draw dizzying patterns across your clit, slipping a finger between your folds, pumping in and out.

“So wet,” he purrs, watching the way your chest moves with each breathy moan you exhale, “always so good for me.”

He slips another finger in, curling them at just the right angle, hitting the spot that always makes you cum in a matter of moments. Your eyes are closed, rutting your hips in time with his hand, his tongue still assaulting your clit. You’re not watching him, but you can feel his gaze on you, watching every micro-expression written across your face.

His hand on your hip shifts you to a slightly better angle for him, hands still on his hair clutching hard, holding him close as if he would ever let you fall.

And then you’re gushing onto his hands and tongue before you even had a chance to consider telling him, he’s lapping, sucking and moaning through your release as if he was the one who was just being teased to no end.

He doesn’t bother wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he kisses a line from your pussy to your mouth, only stopping in between to suck and nip at each nipple, pinching and tweaking them between his fingers as he slides his hard length against your entrance.

Satoru gives hot, searing kisses where you can taste yourself on his tongue as he grabs onto your waist, pulling you closer into him.

“You’re everything to me,” he groans, pressing his rock hard length against you, teasing as he lets the blunt tip make contact with your sensitive clit causing you to gasp out each time it happens.

“Only got so jealous cause -nnngh fuck-,” he’s slamming into you, in a surprising move where you’re left gasping and he lets out a shaky breath, “cause of how much I like you-”

Satoru isn’t an easy man to surprise, but you manage it when the palm of your hand connects with his cheek in a resounding slap. The pent up frustration you’ve held onto over the course of the last few weeks bubbling over as he rambles out his admission.

He looks at you, wide eyed and mouth agape, his own shock genuine and then his lips are on yours before you’re able to mumble out an apology.

You mewl, as his nails dig into the plush skin of your thighs, brain foggy with lust as his teeth dig into the side of your neck, your nails claw into his back, almost hard enough to draw blood as you scratch down from his shoulders.

“Satoru,” you moan, back arching up to meet his chest, his hard body, pressed against your softer one, “harder, please.”

He obliges, fucks into you harder and faster than ever before, has you reaching your peak quicker than ever before too.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” He says, watching as your face contorts with pleasure, walls fluttering around his cock, the lights from the city below surrounding your body, in a soft glow, you look heavenly, ethereal, and he can’t get enough of you. 

Your moans are loud, but it doesn’t matter, this high in the sky, nobody can hear a sound you’re making. He’s leaning up, watching where you’re connected, moaning at the sight, “so fucking tight, this pussy was fucking made for me. You’re so perfect for me.”

When his lips connect to yours in a series of searing kisses, you push him onto his back, climbing on top, slowly sinking down on his cock. He watches with a grin as you place your hands on his chest, bouncing up and down slowly.

But he’s not one to be teased, especially tonight, rocking his hips in time with yours, he sits up, hand on your cheek and your throat.

“Just wanted me to be jealous didn’t you?” He groans, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, “that’s why you wanted to go off trying to fuck someone else and kiss my friends, huh?”

You slap him again and this time he moans, whether he meant to or not, before your hand is on his jaw, pulling him into you. Tongues gliding together in wet messy kisses before pulling away, a trail of energy flowing between you.

You watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head, back arched - his hard chest pressing against your soft tits as he lets out a sinful moan. It’s truly a sight to behold, skin glistening with sweat, shining in the light from the stars from above.

As soon as he recovers, you’re on your back again, his arms around your waist, lifting you into the most severe arch you’ve ever been in as he continues to mercilessly pound into your cunt, tip of his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

“Satoru, put a baby in me,” you whine deliriously and his hips immediately falter.

“Fuck, you want me to?” He takes a deep strained breath, “c'mere, c'mere -fuck just like that.”

Satoru can use his infinity in amazing ways, you’ve learned tonight, as he lays you flat on your back again, using his infinity to hold your wrists above your head, locking them together, the force from his ability holding your knees down by your head.

You can’t feel the cold from this high up, the realization that not only has he restrained your arms and legs with his technique while being so absolutely lost inside you, he’s also had his infinity around you the entire time protecting you from the weather, just serves to prove how much more impressive he is than you could have ever imagined.

His forearms are planted next to your head, giving him the support he needs to snap his hips into yours with reckless abandon before he’s lost himself in pleasure, thrusts turning deep, needy and sloppy.

“You’re gonna be so full of me,” he’s babbling, licking a strip from your neck to jaw, “everyone’s gonna know you’re mine, baby. Say it.”

You’re putty in his hands, at the sight of his eyes blown with lust, the pad of his thumb as he encircles your clit in time with each of his rough thrusts, the way he’s biting his lip trying not to cum at the beautiful sight of you below him.

“S-S’toru, I’m-” you whimper, “fuck- I’m yours, I’m gonna-”

Your eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent screen as wave after wave of pleasure hits you. He grabs your jaw, mouth lolled open and spits into it. You wait for him to tell you to swallow because you know he likes that.

“Fuck- fuck, fuck,” he whines, cheeks pinked, lips parted, hands cemented on your hips, holding you in close as his release floods your pussy, gripping so tight bruises are already beginning to blossom around his fingertips.

Neither of you move for a while after, having fucked out all the bad blood between you, as he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling in the small space between as you work to catch your breath. Your arm is wrapped around his shoulder, other in his hair keeping him close as you both giggle into kisses, draining him slowly in between.

The marks left on your skin fade slowly away, Satoru chooses not to heal himself, keeping the scratches on his back, his “battle scars” he teased as you rolled your eyes. 

Eventually you end up back at his place, in his bed, cuddled into his chest asleep. He has an arm wrapped around you as he uses the other to move a few strands of hair out of your face watching you sleep peacefully.

He sighs, running his thumb along the edge of your nose and under your eyes, watching as a soft smile graces your lip from his touch.

And then he remembers the clothes neither of you grabbed before warping away.

taglist: @q-the-rockaholic @greenlovers @naorizenin @a1hina @plants-w0rld @patat-boi @rlvslouis @littledemoness15 @thisbicc @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @hecatesflames @arisucat @creolequeen11210 @imperatorkhaleesi @xiaosie

[palomahasenteredthechat]

Hello! I am so thankful for you still entertaining open dialogue about all of this. I took a hard stop break from social media since last Sunday because the feeling in my stomach was unbearable. Part of me knew this would happen the second he signed to marvel and started getting more famous. Part of me was thrilled for him and part of me knew he would change. I know he was never partial to his fans and he is mostly weirded out by us, but I just feel very stupid, pathetic, and heartbroken in a way that honestly embarrasses me. I am thankful for the break from new photos this weekend but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before more pop up. I hate this I hate it so much I am devastated. I feel like he’s laughing at us and rubbing it in our faces with every new photo that comes out, and I fear this is the real deal.

I just feel so stupid and upset and I muted a lot of his stuff on instagram and twitter, and am heavily trying to curate my experience on here, but it’s hard not to search and look at gossip and hurt my own feelings. Of course everyone I know keeps mentioning it to me since I’m the known fan amongst friend groups. I’m just so sad and disappointed in him, in me, and how I wish it would go away so I don’t feel a pit in my stomach every time I go online.

Sorry, thank you, and I really appreciate the space. It’s hard out here everyone is so self righteous and tries to play some kind of role that they’re above being invested in personal lives, but whatever I obsessed over him for over 2 years and just need to get it out. Hope you’re doing ok. Thanks again.

Oooohhh Nonny. It's going to be okay.

I'll say it again: it's going to be okay.

First of all, good for you for curating your online space. That was probably hard to do, but it most likely helped you. So give yourself a pat on the back for being proactive.

Second, don't apologize for your feelings. Fuck the haters. Anyone who mocks someone for feeling sad about something, no matter how trivial or ridiculous, isn't worth your time. Decent people don't do that.

Third, and this might sound harsh but isn't, I promise you: he's not throwing it in your face, because he's not thinking about his fans at all. It feels personal, but it's not.

I use this phrase jokingly, but remember, Joe's gonna Joe. He's going to do what feels right in the moment. He's young, he's on an upward career trajectory, he's feeling himself, he's not thinking about the past. He's living in the present.

He will show up again, doing things that might seem cringeworthy, or funny, or enraging, and the world will go on. Sometimes it's good to get some perspective away from a lot of this by changing your physical space - spend time with new people, or reconnect with old friends, or volunteer - I cannot stress volunteering enough, it really, really gets you out of your head.

I also give you permission to lie in bed and be a slug if that is healing for you, but don't make that your go-to forever. There's a big wide world out there, and it's meant to be lived in.

Hang in there Nonny. I promise you will be laughing hysterically at things sooner than you think.

[spade-riddles]

champagneproblesm asked:

Kinda tells a story when you pick the outro or last verse from each song backwards :

The only thing that's left is the manuscript. One last souvenir from my trip to your shores. Now and then i re read the manuscript. But the story isn't mine anymore

But now we'll curtail your curiosity in sweetness

She's been many places with men of many faces. First, they're off to the races. She's laughing drawin' aces. But, none of it is changin'. That the chariot is waitin'. Hearts are hers for the breakin. There's an escape in escaping OR she fell through the Ice then came black Alive.

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

When the truth Comes out it's quiet. It's so quiet .

(I'm so afraid I sealed my fate no sign of soulmates. I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige) Spending my last coin so someone will tell it'll be ok

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time.

I pushed each boulder up that hill.

This place made me feel worthless

Your words were just still ringing in my head.

I'm hearing voices like a mad man

Leaving me bereft and reeling, my beloved ghost and me sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G

Can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses, cooler in theory but not if you force it to be, it just didn't happen.

The devil that you know looks now more like an angel. I'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger OR she IS here to destroy you

Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way

Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons. Even if I die screaming and I hope you hear it.

Only when your girlish glow flickers just so do they let you know i's hell on earth to be heavenly. Them's the breaksThey don't come gently

They said there was no chance, trying to be the greatest in the league.

You hung me on your wall, stabbed me with your push pins. In public, showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion cause once your queen had come you treat her like an also-ran. You didn't measure up in any measure of a man

Cause i'm miserable. And no one even knows. Try and Come for my job

Your arsons match your somber eyes. And i'll still see it till the day i die. (You're the loss of my life.)

Your good lord didn't need to lift a finger.

I am what i am cause you trained me. So who's afraid of little old me?

Am i allowed to cry ?

Go on fuck me up

I did my Time.

All the wine moms are still holding out but it's over.

You'll find someone.

Waving at the ship, fuck it if i can't have him

Left all these broken parts, told me i'm better of but i'm not

Who else decodes you ? or / i chose this cyclone with you

it won't start up 'til I touch, touch, touch you

it won't start up 'til I touch, touch, touch you (fortnight)

Then midnights

I can't find a pulse my Heart won't start anymore

have they come to take me away?

You should find another guiding light

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

It's been two thousand one hundred and 90 days of our love blackout. The system's breaking down.

I'd pay if you'd just know me. Seemed like the right thing at the time.

Levitate above all the messes made sit quiet by my side in the shade. And not the kind that's thrown, I mean The kind under where a tree has grown

it's all over, it's not meant to be. So I'll say words I don't believe

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair. And we will never go back.

Had to do it this way 'Cause we were born to be the pawn In every lover's game

You say "what a mind" this happens all the Time

It's coming back around.

Break up, break free, break through, break down. You would break your back to make me break a smile

I think it's time to teach some lessons i made you my world. have you heard? I can reclaim the land.

I'm on my vigilante shit again.

But you were on somethin', It was one drink after another, Fuckin' politics and gender roles, And you're not sure and I don't know. Got swept away in the gray. I just may like to have a conversation

So I peered through a window, A deep portal, time travel, All the love we unravel. And the life I gave away

I'll run away

to hide that would be so dishonest. And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it. 'Til you do, 'til it's true

Pierced through the Heart but Never killed.

I feel you no matter what. The rubies that i gave up.

I find it dizzing they're bringing m'y History. But you weren't Even listening.

[tenjikubaby]

you have one (1) new message!

s62 (+ kakucho) texting/messaging HCs

Rindou: The “whats up” guy

Fair emoji use, texting abbreviations, and slang. Can’t care less about proper capitalization or spelling words correctly unless he really wants you to leave him alone. He can be a bit dry as a texter because he prefers to tell you stuff in calls or in person. Usually takes hours or even days to reply unless you’re special to him (you only need to wait minutes if so). Being an extrovert, I think many people messaging him so sometimes your messages might get buried under everyone else’s, and he’s usually too lazy to check everything. 

Ran: The “Good morning. How are you?”  guy

He wants to sound formal and intelligent over text, so he’s got complete sentences, good grammar, proper punctuation and capitalization even if you’re close. Rare emoji use, and if he uses one it’s only the basic smiley/sad faces because he’s too lazy to check out the other emojis outside that. Would likezone you on Messenger or send you those sparkly gifs and it doesn’t mean anything! He’s just kind of a boomer. Leaves you on read often but that also doesn’t mean anything because he might have a) fallen asleep, b) started zoning out, c) just forgot to reply. 

Shion: The "WHAT" guy

WACKY. Lots of emojis (his favorites are the fire, 100, and devil emojis), abuses Caps Lock, may spam you when excited. Sometimes, you might wake up to 35+ new messages from him, a lot of them different variations of “[NAME] WAKE UP BRO CHECK THIS OUT 🔥🔥🔥” (and it’s just a screenshot of a scammy “Congratulations you won a new iPhone!!” message from a free movie website. He already put his details in.) Reply speed is FAST unless he's in a fight or meeting. Laughs at the memes you send like 'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA' because he doesn’t believe in lol or lmao or rofl. He’s quite fun to talk to because his reactions are so enthusiastic and extra. 

Izana: The “yes? 🤯” guy

Heavy emoji user. Uses emojis that sometimes mismatch the tone of his message so he can be confusing to talk to. It’s just one of his quirks though. You’ll know immediately if he likes or dislikes you because if he doesn’t like you, he just sends something like “shut the fuck up 😄”. Doesn’t abbreviate too much, but adheres to proper punctuation and types complete sentences. The type of person to respond to you with pictures instead of typing. (Like, if you ask “Where are you?” he sends you a close-up of his face and just above it you can see the sign of the restaurant he’s about to enter). Likes to send memes and reaction pics as well.  Reply speed is quite slow but doesn't exceed a day. 

Kakucho: The "hello :)" guy

Refuses to use emojis, prefers to just type out his smileys/sad faces. No caps. Abbreviates a lot of words but still uses proper punctuation because he doesn’t want to sound monotone. His texting is quite informal but still very much polite unless you’re close friends (he’ll be less polite then). He apologizes if he took too long to reply to you, which happens every time because Kaku isn’t on his phone much. If it’s really urgent, you’re better off calling him. If you send him a meme, he might not get it because he’s also not much of an internet person (unless you sent something that’s universally funny, to which he’ll reply “haha :D”). 

Mocchi: The "sup" guy

It’s really much better and easier to talk to him in person or just call. This guy’s phone is almost always dead. He plays lots of mobile games and spends so much time on YouTube, then forgets to charge his phone. When he does reply, he sounds so lazy: 1-3 words and little-to-no-effort in continuing the conversation at all. You see abbreviated words and no emojis, punctuations and caps. This is not because he doesn’t like you, but it’s because he prefers to talk to people face-to-face. 

Mucho: The plain "Hi" guy

Sounds way too serious in text. He’s not one for perfect grammar and punctuations in text, but you still feel his seriousness. Another slow replyer—barely on his phone because he actually touches grass. He prefers to talk through call, but when you do call, make sure it’s really important or you’d hear a deep sigh on the other end before he says goodbye and hangs up. Would likezone you just like Ran because these two are boomers deep down. Leaves people on read if he thinks the message is not worth replying to. 

[neonblessing]

8.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

As she climbed the stairs from the train station, she was assailed by the riot of color and text inherent to any District’s downtown. A thousand ads warred for her attention, wielding punchy slogans and brilliant hues. Unable to compete with the noise of the falls, the ads screamed in vibrant silence: ONLY 70C! TAKE A BREATH OF BLACK SUN! CELESTIAL COLOSSEUM: DEATH MATCHES WEEKENDS AT 9! LIVE FOREVER! Half-nude models leered down at her from thousand-foot-tall billboards. One caressed a rifle as if it were a lover and winked at her. The ad had no text indicating whether it was the woman or the weapon on sale. Hell, it could have been an ad for fruit juice.

Her destination was only a few miles from the parking garage. This morning, she would have walked that distance, but the 3C train fare was more appealing with twenty thousand in her pocket. If she was going to find Raz, there was only one place to start.

The Big K was a small shop, the only sign of its existence from the street being a grimy neon sign half-visible down an alleyway. Compared to every other business on the street, it had a tasteful air of desperation and disrepair. She stepped around a sleeping form at the entrance of the alley, slipping a coin into their pocket as she did so. She could spare the change.

The door squealed loudly as she swung it open. It was so perfectly Kooler: why spend money on grease or an entry chime when he could kill two birds with one cut corner? The Big K was a pawn shop, of a sort. Kooler would buy from and sell to anyone, but above all else he was a cornerstone of criminal life in Diluvian 22. Kooler knew everyone, everyone knew Kooler, and most importantly, the cops didn’t fuck with him or his clientele.

The store was empty, save for the owner, who sat in a swivel chair behind a glass counter filled with a vast assortment of pricey trinkets. Kooler was a fat man in his early fifties, dressed in a perfectly-tailored, if shabby, suit. He was meticulously clean-shaven, his long hair up in a ponytail. He blinked away his HUD, then produced the practiced grin of a salesman when he saw who had entered his domain.

“Shiv!!! How’re ya holdin’ up, screamer?” His gaze flickered to her shoulder and the arm that conspicuously wasn’t there.

“Hey, Kooler.” Shiv liked Kooler. He was cheap, but he was honest.

“I saw your buddy in here last month–asked ‘em where you were. They said you nearly got memorialized!”

“That’s actually what I’m here about.” She realized her fist was clenched.

Kooler had kept on talking. “--was some haul you two birded! You puttin' your share towards a shiny new arm? I could hook you-”

Shiv cut him off. “I didn’t get my share. And neither did the old man.” Kooler’s mouth closed like a vault door. “Raz skipped town.”

“Ah.” His good cheer had evaporated.

“Yeah.”

“Playing headsman for the thief-god now, are we?” For as long as she’d known him, Kooler had never particularly approved of violence, for all that his business depended on it.

“I intend to do a lot more than play.”

Kooler sighed, then leaned over the counter, pressing fingertips together. Down to business. “Well, kid, what can I do for you?”

“I need to know where they went.”

He frowned sympathetically. “Shiv, you know I like to stay out of shit like this.”

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

[justatalkingface]

I have tons of things to say. But can I say this: do you think Izu is more used to prop others characters and no one does that for him?

Look not saying people need to worship him. But Shoto can traumadump on Izu, but Izu can't ever talk about himself or his struggles.

And I'm not sure if is intentional or not. (I do think Hori is a bad writer, I do think Hori hates his mc but...at the same time, to hate a character you need to think about him...sometimes feels he never thinks about Izu)

Yes.

In a very real sense, this honestly is a lot of Izuku's characterization at this point; sacrificing himself to help others, both as a person and as a character.

Or, to be pithy: Izuku's goal in life seems to be to literally martyr himself for others, in every possible way he can, and there's no sign that's ever going to stop.

There's also the writing, which uses Izuku as a convenient point to support a character or an idea, as a not-so-subtle way to tell the audience that, 'You should like this!', and to some extent, these two things mix with each other to the point where it's hard to distinguish what's what, but...

It's easy to point at, like Izuku being Shoto's trusted vent friend, for example, and say that's Izuku being, well, supportive for one of his friends. That makes sense. Then you think about it and realize that, for all their parallels in situations, with Shoto and Endeavour to Izuku and Bakugou, neither of them ever... bring that up. Izuku never vents back to Shoto, even though I'm sure he'd be happy to return the favor, and Shoto never reaches out to Izuku, his first friend.

Why? Is it because Izuku is too traumatized and too used suppressing his negative emotions to bring it up? Is Shoto still too unsocialized to know to ask? Or does Hori just not want to bring that up?

Any or all of that is probably correct, depending on what point we're at in the story.

And then Bakugou, while we're at it; to some extent, there is definitely some Hori work in the background making sure they're "friends" despite all logic, but looking at how Izuku acts, and how he used to think (because we can no longer see him think on screen any more)... how much of that is forced? How much of that is that Izuku just wanting to help Bakugou? How much is his old awe of his old tormentor, always so superior in every way to the pathetic Deku (and, for the record, I put 'Deku' very much as Izuku being used to support Bakugou, specifically to protect him from having to grow the fuck up and use his actual name), and long engrained habits to the tune of, 'Bakugou is never in trouble, so don't even bother because it will only hurt me?'

Again, the answer is basiclly, 'Yes'.

The thing is, even before Hori started messing up the plot to push one agenda or another, one of Izuku's biggest traits was self-destructive behavior; hell, even as a kid, he would try to protect others, even at his own expense. It's clear that at this point in canon, no matter how much better it should be by now, that Izuku still has no self worth, and thus, little to no need to protect or prioritize himself and his needs.

He doesn't value himself, so him taking on extra burdens from others, and refusing to talk about his own, isn't just likely, it's still canon. But at the all the same....

Like, Endeavour. Izuku spends a lot of time with him, doesn't tell anyone about the blatant abuse, and even tells Shoto 'you're already try to forgive him', and that? That is just so forced. That's just Hori dropping Izuku next to someone he wants to be more popular, and hoping that his 'I'm A Good Guy' energy rubs off.

So... ultimately the answer is C, all of the above. Izuku does his best to be everyone's hero, it tears him apart because that's impossible, and he doesn't see anything wrong with that. Hori is trying to use him to support his other characters, and prevent the parts of him that he doesn't like anymore from coming up, so no one ever really talks about Izuku's problems, even if they actually would, or why he's like this, or how he feels about things, and of course Izuku would never be so rude to bring up his own problems when they could possibly inconvenience someone!

To be frank, at this point being Hori's character support character is so interwoven into Izuku's characterization that we're long past the point where it could be excised realistically; this is something that's ruined his growth as a person for years now, and would require changes to Izuku and others long before The War Arc, much less the last arc of the story, changes that would organically change how people interacted with him and how he responds to them, changes that would escalate naturally over time to the point where many characters, especially Izuku, and even the story itself would be drastically different than they are now.

But... well. Izuku doesn't get nice things. He just gets to be everyone else's nice thing.

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴛᴇᴀꜱᴇʀ

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!oc

↣ notes :: the babiest of teasers 💕 I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long now. I can’t wait for you guys to read this series.

"So," Jimin started once the waiter had collected their plates. He picked up his glass, putting it to his lips to take a sip of red wine. "Why do you hide?"

Kiara's brows furrowed. "Why do I hide?" She picked up her own glass of water as he nodded. "I don't hide, necessarily. I just don't think I need to show my face for people to understand my art. Plus, I enjoy still having a normal life."

His brows knitted together as his head tilted to the side. "A normal life?" He put his glass down. "I hate to say it, but it sounds like you're a coward, Kiara."

"What?" She asked sharply.

"Think about it; you're hiding your face and missing out on all the beautiful opportunities to have a 'normal life'. It sounds like you're scared of the fame."

"I'm not scared of the fame," she quickly objected. She could feel her heart beating in her face like she just ran a 5k. It was solid and brisk, spreading up to where she felt the pulse throbbing in her cheeks. "I just don't want people to take advantage of me."

"They'll take advantage of you whether or not your name is known. So what is it?" His eyes then narrowed as he straightened his back. His shoulders appeared broader than before. "Why do you hide?"

Kiara stared at the man for a second, eyes searching for an answer in his. She's been Luna for so long now. She couldn't even remember why she hid her name and face. Was it anxiety? Was it the fear of rejection? Was it the fear of being judged? It could've been all of the above at this point.

"It's OK to admit that you're scared."

His words were all but comforting. "I'm not! I just…." She trailed off, eyes leaving him and resting on the tablecloth before her.

"You had me sign an NDA before I could even step foot in this restaurant. There's this special section specifically made for you to have these types of dinners. There's even security at the door to get in!" He spat out before she even got the moment to gather her thoughts. She felt under attack, though it was just a simple question. Even his points were valid. She never prepared herself for a question like this.

"Sir," she started to reel back in the conversation, but his eyelids lowered at her. "I have these dinners to discuss my work, not to be disrespected."

"But Luna is your work. I'm asking you questions to understand why you actively chose to stay hidden. Every day you have the opportunity to come out, and you ignore it every day. If it's not because you're a coward, it's because you're selfish."

"Excuse me?!" She fumed, her eyes narrowing at the man.

He didn't flinch at her glare. Instead, he chose to shift his position by leaning closer toward her. "Choosing to stay hidden robs you of the chance to do any public charity event. You have to let people see you or at least hear your voice. Right now, Luna is only a thought. No one even knows if she's human. People have the right to see who they're supporting, and you shouldn't have to make them spend over ten thousand to meet you."

The more he spoke, the more infuriated Kiara got. Being interrogated or called out wasn't the reason she had these dinners. This conversation was barely a discussion but a lecture from some 20-something-year-old nepo baby who thinks he can speak on how she chooses to live her life and spend her money. Her lips pressed into a taught line, keeping herself quiet when all she wanted to do was curse him out.

"And it's not like you could slap on some wig and be Hannah Montana. People aren't that dumb." As he continued, her eye twitched a little. "So which is it?" Jimin watched as Kiara nodded her head a few times. She grabbed the napkin off her lap and placed it on the table.

"And to think that maybe you were just having a bad day earlier." She chuckled softly as his brows furrowed. "Turns out that you're just an asshole regardless."

"Excuse—"

Kiara swiftly threw water in his face, drenching him and his hair as she stood up. He scoffed loudly, hanging his head down to keep any more water from going into his eyes. "Does that answer your question?" He looked up at her and locked eyes one last time, exchanging the same look of hate before she stormed off to the door. "Fucking dick," she mumbled to herself as her heels quickly lead her through the restaurant. She dug her hand into her purse, feeling around until she grabbed her cell phone.