#my english ain't englishing today

[clvudii-launch42]

I really really REALLY want to read a few of yasammy's texts. Like, the convos they have w each other over text, I wanna see how they text each other, or just how they text in general.

After Sammy told us Yaz sometimes only sends a thumbs up emoji to her, I've been insanely curious how their conversations are going like.

Ugh idk how to explain but yeah.

Sammy thinks "👍🏻" is passive aggressive. I think "ok" is passive aggressive (it's getting better tho lol. I'm trying to get rid of the hatred of that).

Anyways, this leads me to a question...

[ioannemos]

been listening to a lot of sigur ros lately and dang if it didn't gast my flabber (flabber my gast?) when one of their songs was listed as explicit. how could a sigur ros song be explicit??

turns out not every sigur ros song is in hopelandic. they drop an f-bomb in there, tho since it's in icelandic i never would've known if spotify didn't warn me about the bad language

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Happy Super Mario RPG Day!!! Oh yeah and p5t too I guess lol

Let's go for the greatest RPG ever made!!!!! .....and P5T I guess >_>

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[teastyun]

༺ paid undone

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

working as an owner of a mechanics shop at day and prostitute at night at Zaun's most famous brothel, you expect a quiet night shift after a hard day of work. your expectations go avail and you miserably fail at keeping your identity hidden from Sevika, who has just earlier visited you at your shop that day.

a/n: instead of listening to my lecture on English diachronic history I wrote this in my notes app and dear god pls let me ride her until my legs fall off

masterlist

putting your makeup pouch back into your personal small closet, you wonder who's today's clients will be. on your way to work, you've noticed how empty and calm the streets are recently. no fights, no big groups lingering in each corner eyeing anyone that's passing by, only a few drunkards at their usual shit.

words were spread about an ex-prison mate duelling her way through the ring in the center of Zaun after a fatal crisis in the upper world. interestingly enough, the brothel's business wasn't booming since her entry in Zaun, equalling a calm shift for you. lucky for you, you're paid per hour instead of per client, so you expect a good rest after your long shift at your mechanics shop.

as your usual routine, you put your mask on and wrap a robe around your lightly clothed body, before you take a quick trip to visit the madam and owner of the brothel.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ

entering the long dark hallway, you keep your head low and walk steady towards the madam's room.

on your way you pass several rooms with slightly open doors, revealing the sounds of huffing, moaning, but also laughing. despite the empty streets, the brothel seems to be lively today, nonetheless.

you take a deep breath and close your eyes, as your fingers touched the doorknob of the room. your boss is a lovely old lady, but sometimes intimidates the shit out of you, despite the years you've already worked at her institution.

"there you are, y/n." she looks up from her papers with a cigarette in between her long wrinkled fingers decorated with heavy rings and long painted nails. you are one of her longest and most reliable workers, and she makes sure to treat you accordingly.

"s'bit a teeny quiet, ain't it?" she looks up at you with her long, cat eye-ish lashes and heavy purple eyeshadow accentuating her wrinkles around them. in response you lightly nod, not sure why she's suddenly talking about anything but your upcoming client.

you look at her as you wait for her to continue.

her fingernails tap like a melody against her cigarette trinklet, making you nervous with each taping sound.

"m'love, i've got a rather... special client waiting for you today. are you aware of Silco's... mates?"

while deep in your thoughts you first nod, but quickly shake your head after.

earlier, you've seen a slender girl with long blue braids at your shop, a tall and intimidatingly buff woman with a heavy red cloak covering half her body, following her close behind without exchanging a single word with either the girl, nor you. but, where they really from Silco?

the madam watches every single move of yours. her head tilts mischievously at your response. "very well. tonight, i assigned a special lady of Silco's to you. she's waiting for you in room xii."

your already tense nerves aren't pleased to hear about today's responsibility you're taking, but you silently thank her by lightly bowing your torso before you make your way to the assigned room.

her voice stops you as you open the heavily decorated door. "and y/n, make sure to please her with every single pretty ounce of yours."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ

you were already fucked before you even entered the room.

you expected a calm, restful shift with easy clients. instead, you have one of the most powerful and influential people of Zaun in your rooms, waiting for you to finally enter.

not looking up as you close the door behind you, you take off your robe while trying to maintain your breathing. as it falls to the floor, you take a quick glance at her.

there she is, the same woman you were eyeing up and down today at the mechanics shop. will she recognise you?

hoping that won't be the case in sake of your privacy and reputation, you slowly walk to the backless stool in front of her as you take a seat.

on your way, you carefully observe her. she even has the same clothes on as earlier. the grey and red tones in her clothing accentuate her toned body underneath. looking closely, she even seems to be hiding something underneath her mysterious cloak.

without further thought, you greet her by bowing your head lightly in respect, waiting for her to make the next move.

you notice her shifting in her seat, as she leans towards you while resting her free arm on her knee.

confused by her behaviour, you look up and notice her brown eyes piercing yours. she is incredibly intimidating and you can't help the furrow that sneaks between your eyebrows in confusion beneath your mask. you've never had a client look at you for minutes without a single sound nor move.

normally, your client has a certain thought wanting to be practiced with you as soon as possible, since time is money, especially in this brothel, where clients pay per minute. Zaun isn't necessarily known for its strong economy, so clients sometimes visit on the occasion for only a handful of minutes before they need leave.

but this, this was different. her piercing eyes where warm, but somehow so cold at the same time as she slowly eyes your appearance.

you're wearing a beautiful set of lingerie in your best colours with white lace accentuating your finest features. elegant body chains and dangling jewelry make sounds as you move your body. unlike your other lingerie sets, this one is extremely revealing around your chest, showing no fabric on the front of your breasts and leaving them on full display to see. your bottoms is attached to your stockings matching your set with clips on the front and back of each thigh.

her eyes stopped at the sight of your thighs pressing against the band of your stockings before continuing down your legs. as they move back up, you try accentuate your breasts by taking a deep breath, while looking at her through your mask with expecting eyes.

a smirk appears on her lips. "are you nervous?"

her rough voice creates goosebumps on your skin, but the question agitates you. why would the first thing she says to you be such assumption?

you tilt your head in response, not sure of how to react to such thing. she is still only a few centimetres away from you, making the distance between you incredibly tense.

she copies the tilt in your head and looks deeply into your eyes, searching for something specific in them.

"I'm Sevika," she whispers a mere distance away from you as she holds out her hand.

you take another deep breath and touch her hand in a handshake, making the situation feel so ridiculous. what was she trying to get out of you?

her hand feels incredibly big. and fuck, you wish you could feel that rough skin between your folds. just the mere thought made you clench around nothing as your cunt is soaking in your lingerie. before your thoughts could continue, you slipped your hand back. your eyes never left hers.

she leans back and rests against the cushions behind her, as she eyes you once more. this time, her eyes won't leave your chest.

your nipples are perky from the cool air in the room despite the lack of ventilation. or maybe you really are nervous?

"you're not much of a talker huh?" she continues, "show me yourself."

you reach back to unclasp your bra, but she stops you, "no, show me what you usually do here."

her eyes roam the heavily decorated room and your thoughts are spiralling. at her request, you stand up and receive a box of toys each room has available on the side of the lounging area.

in it, you look for a dildo and bottle of lube. what were you doing with most of your clients? this woman made you ask yourself questions you've never considered being asked.

all of your clients are normally males, which are in heavy need of a relief by pushing their dicks into your hole and calling it a day. you didn't mind, since it's the routine of your income at the end of the day.

but right here and now, you were supposed to fuck yourself with a dildo in front of this woman, who watches every single move of yours with piercing eyes. and fuck, you felt small.

leaning back on your stool, you fully removed your soaking thong, hoping she wouldn't notice your wetness literally stringing to your cunt as you remove it.

to your disadvantage, she notices everything. her eyes follow the soaked thong falling to the ground, before they move up to look into your eyes again. fuck, this feels so much more intimate than any sex you've ever had and you continue dripping from your cunt at her dark gaze.

you spread your legs apart, hoping to drag her gaze down there. your eyes finally break the eye contact and follow the movement of your hands as you squirt some lubricant on the side of the dildo. it is veiny and big, a difference to the ones of your average clients.

with one arm resting on another stool behind you, you glide the sides of the dildo through your folds, making your chest jump at the feeling of the cold lube. you spread the lubricant across the dildo by dragging and shifting it through your folds, bumping your sensitive clit.

you look back into her eyes, questioning if you should really do this by hesitating with your next move.

she finally looks down at your dripping pussy coated with lubricant. on cue, you push the dildo completely aside in one go.

you want to see her reaction, but a moan escapes your lips as you try to stay quiet. this woman was onto something, but there's no way she can identify you from earlier.

nervous to look at her, you drag your eyes back to hers while slowly fucking yourself with the dildo. she seems to become restless, too.

it was her turn to look at you with furrowed brows as you began to fuck yourself harder, while trying to maintain your breath as you're biting your lower lip in pleasure.

fucking yourself faster and harder, trying to chase the warmth in your lower belly without success, you throw your head back hoping not a single sound escapes your lips.

your arm begins to hurt and you can feel the sweat building up on your forehead and cheekbones from exhaustion.

fuck, you really are about to sob. you look so pathetic trying to chase your own high while failing miserably, knowing acting one out won't go through with her.

"you can't come, beautiful?" she asks teasingly and grins at your miserable state. upset with her comment you look at her and you finally see it.

"here," she tells you, petting her lap her one hand, where she somehow managed to attach a harness on when you were in your own element.

you stopped your movements immediately and slipped the dildo out without any thought, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling inside of you before attaching it to her harness and climbing into her lap.

as you attach it through her harness, your thighs rest on her firm lap. and god, this woman was incredibly handsome. her strong facial features look even sharper with her heavy dark eyes piercing yours.

you really weren't sure what she was getting out of this. any other client would've been already chasing their orgasm inside you. Sevika hasn't touched you once. she hasn't even taken off any of her clothing yet.

as the wet dildo rests against your folds, you eye her cloak. before realising her bionic arm, she already has it moved to press a cold hand on your back to push you closer. she looks up for a reaction, but you grasp her shoulders to steady yourself without a sound.

her bionic arm cups your ass, making you gasp at the cold feeling on your skin, and her other hand pushes the dildo easily into you again, making your head throw back in pleasure of feeling full again in her presence.

adjusting once again at the feeling of being full, you look at her with heavy eyelids.

"can i touch you?" she asks quietly, her eyes never leaving yours.

you nod and push your chest towards her face as a cue. she grins at your boldness and presses a wet kiss on your breast, as her hand grips your hips, making them roll against her strap. her mouth sucks and bites your skin around your nipples, occasionally licking your perky nipple, making you see stars behind that mask.

as she sucks harder and harder, you beginn to slowly grind into her. your job has never felt this intimate with any client before.

her bionic arm holds you steady against her as her hips grind to meet yours. your breath was incredibly unsteady, trying to deal with the pleasure that builds up inside your core. her mouth travelled up to your exposed ear, nibbling at your dangling piercings and licking your earlobe. "you're in control, beautiful. do whatever you like," she whispers.

you stop in your tracks to look at her almost in shock. spiralling in your head, you don't know what to do. did you ever have control over your clients? trembling, you reached for a vibrator and pressed it into her hand.

"hold this against my clit as i ride you," you tell her quietly. hearing your voice, a smile sneaks onto her lips. "gladly," she responds and turns it on.

she kisses your breast before pressing the vibrator softly against your clit. you loudly moan from the sudden stimulation, beginning to ride her strap like there's no tomorrow. she sucks and bites your nipple, making you see more stars than before. your sighs and gasps turn into moans, not caring about hiding your voice from her anymore.

the dildo presses perfectly against your sweet spot inside of you as the vibrator teases your clit and you can't get enough of it. fuck, you're becoming greedy of this woman. you've never achieved such pleasure inside of you with anyone nor alone.

feeling your the warmth slowly building up in your lower belly, you whisper breathlessly "i-i'm close, Sevika," through your mask, not sure if she could even decipher your words. she reacts by biting down on your skin and cupping your ass with her bionic hand, almost making you scream as you grind restlessly on her strap as the vibrator bumps your wet clit.

and there it is, the sudden white spots clouding your vision as come hard on her strap. you reach for her hand to turn of the vibrator, scared of overstimulating yourself after coming for the first time in such a long time.

too blissed out from the feeling, your head falls onto her shoulder and she presses a soft kiss on on your neck.

"you did great, beautiful," she tells you and you feel her warm breath against your damp skin.

your mask shifts and the realisation hits you.

you slip it back into its place, slip off her strap with a wince and stumble back onto the stool, trying to compose yourself.

Sevika detaches the strap and there you see the bionic arm for the first time. it looked heavy with its several mechanics surrounding it, but then you notice the shimmer going through it like veins. fuck, did you almost get fucked with fucking shimmer inside of it?

she stands up and rearranges her clothing, seeming to take a leave as she hands you a stack of cash from her pouch.

"what about you?" you ask confused. she says nothing but presses the cash into your hand.

"madam won't allow me to take it," you say, looking up at her from the cash in your hands.

her hand softly cups your cheek and strokes your cheekbone with her thumb. "invest it in your shop, beautiful."

stunned by her comment, you sit there completely moveless.

she presses the doorknob as she is about to leave, but she stops mid-tracks before finally leaving the room.

"good to see you again."

masterlist ; pt. 2

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 4 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw, nsfw, smut, fingering omgg

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. I AIN'T YOUR MAMA TO SPANK YOUR ASS.

Word count: 5,384 (yes, things HAPPEN in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Two years earlier

"I'm fine." Sevika murmured, in a tone that could scare anyone away. Except you.

Third day in a row you slept in Zaun's main square, you were cold and your stomach was asking for a more substantial dish than the cookies you could afford. You smelled of street, oil and rain, you were risking everything to get some money and sleep under a roof today.

Many warned you about Sevika, it was better not to mess with her or even show your nose, unless you were proposing a card game, a business or you were a lady-in-waiting. You were none of the three, but you trusted what your hands and your tools were capable of. You held the toolbox, keeping an upright posture even though inside you feared ending up in a dumpster or bleeding to death in the middle of the Last Drop.

"Your arm seems to need a checkup." You insisted. "I know the model, I assume you've had it for about five years, yeah?"

Sevika frowned, putting down the cards and letting out a puff of smoke. She didn't look convinced, more irritated. You insisted.

"I don't charge much."

Sevika flicked her eyes up and down your form, her expression stern. She had seen you before - a street rat, hanging around the less salubrious parts of the city. You were skinny, dirty, and reeked of poverty. You had no business approaching her, let alone with such audacity.

"And what makes you think you can fix it?” she scowled, her voice as harsh as sandpaper. "You some kind of mechanic?”

"Yes." you said, noticing the way Sevika was studying you. You couldn't call her out, you had to swallow your pride in order to swallow a decdent meal later, if everything goes right. "I used to work at Benzo's pawn shop, fixing unused appliances. I brought fine pieces back to life." you said, your eyes flickering to Sevika's mechanic arm. "Like yours."

Certainly Sevika was not pleased with your audacity, she was forced to answer for Silco to idiots, drug addicts, gang members and murderers, so you were just another one to add to the list.

"Used to?" she grunted, her eyes narrowing as she took another drag on her cigarette. "What, you get fired or something?"

"He's dead." you reminded her, knowing damn well Silco's goons were behind that.

Yes, you were bretraying yourself and your past by turning to Sevika to offer your services, but your situation wasn't getting any better. Not with a dead father, an absent mother, and debts to deal with. You should have known better, gambling leads to no good, neither does the air of Zaun. You fell victim to both, the first killed your father, the second probably killed your mother, you weren't sure. And the debt collectors were breathing down your neck.

She eyed you for a moment longer, her gaze weighing your worth. You were desperate, that much was obvious. And she couldn't help but see an opportunity in that. "Alright," she grunted, her voice gruff. "Let's say I let you take a look. What's it gonna cost me?"

You huffed, you were losing dignity there. "A meal." you shrugged. "And a sip of whiskey if you're feeling generous. But I assure you, I do a fine job."

"You'll get your meal and your shot of whiskey," she grumbled, knwoing she would regret giving you a chance. "But if you don't do a damn good job, I'll rip your pretty little head off."

"My head will stay above my shoulders..." you stated. "And your arm, brand new." you added.

Sevika raised her eyebrows, giving the guard a signal to let you come over and take a seat next to her on the couch. You had little time to prove that your offer was not talk but fact. You opened the toolbox, taking out a screwdriver to begin taking apart the arm and separating the pieces. The supply of Shimmer on top seemed novel, but predictable. You knew what to do

As you progressed with your work, Sevika's first impression about you began to crumble. Beneath the hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes was a beautiful girl intent on her task, with attentive eyes, deft fingers, and latent confidence. The woman then began to ask questions, hoping to intimidate you.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

"So young, and already out on the streets?" she grunted, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. "What, your parents throw you out or something?"

"They're dead." you mumbled. Sevika was holding her card with her flesh hand, still gambling while you were attending her prosthetic arm.

Your confession did not move her, having parents alive and present in Zaun was a privilege. However, her curiosity only increased. "Orphan?"

"You could say so." you said, glancing at the disassembled parts, studying the system of Sevika’s arm. The thermal paste needed changing, luckily you had some on you, the seals needed oil too, and some of the gears could use replacing.

"So you're just a street rat then," she said bluntly. "No family, no friends, nowhere to call home."

"Rat." you huffed. "I'm prettier than that." you might have been hungry, skinny and dirty, but you were a lot smarter and prettier than a goddamn rat.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But you still smell worse than one."

As Sevika took the time to mock you, your eyes were split between the arm and the opponents' play. You were sure that Sevika was taking a big risk by continuing to allow the cuprier to keep adding cards to the deck. "Stand," you whispered. "You're too close."

Sevika raised her eyebrow, planning to ignore you, however your comment didn't seem to be wrong. She let out a sigh before raising her hand to the cuprier. With that, the man turned over his cards. "Seventeen." The man said, to which you looked with pleased eyes at Sevika's nineteen.

"Agh, for fuck's sake." groaned one of the opponents, losing the bet. Blackjack was quite unpredictable, but you advised Sevika well; she hit the jackpot.

She chuckled, turning to look at you with a mix of surprise and respect. "Well then, not bad," she said, her voice gruff but impressed. "You really know your stuff."

"The rat's useful." you mumbled. "I have a name, though."

"I haven't asked your name." she replied, as she placed her just won chips on the pile.

"I rather you to remember the quality of my work than my name." you stated, assembling the arm back on Sevika. You turned the last screws, applied oil to the parts, and finally inserted the supply of Shimmer into the shoulder compartment, clicking your tongue. "Set and done, miss."

As the arm connected to her system, Sevika immediately noticed the fluidity of the gears and the restored sensitivity of the metal fingers. She flexed her arm and stretched it out, looking at you with a half-smile. It was all she would give you, along with an, "And here I thought I would rip your head off."

Before you could accept the praise wholeheartedly, there was this sudden commotion in the club. Another bastard too immersed in Shimmer to contain himself had entered, knocking out the guards with just the touch of a hand, and actually, knocking down everything in his path.

Fuck.

Sevika tensed, eyes flickering to the situation. She recognized the signs of a Shimmer-induced maniac, and knew damn well the trouble that could follow.

"Gods," she growled under her breath. "Not this bastard again."

Sevika quickly rose from her seat, her eyes watching the Shimmer-fueled maniac with a steely glare. It was only a matter of time before he would turn his attention to the rest of the bar, and Sevika knew she had to act fast. One of the other players had already fled, hiding behind the wall near the bar. The other stood frozen in fear, unable to speak or move. But you remained calm, your eyes on Sevika, awaiting her next move.

Sevika looked more irritated than alert, she moved her mechanical arm and walked towards the purple beast in front of her, her bearing filling the entire place, her confidence latent. You watched the fight unfold with a smile, the arm worked like a charm and there was no denying that you did a great job, especially when Sevika pulled the opponent’s leg against her and her elbow landed on the knee joint, bending the limb at an unnatural angle, followed by a punch capable of sending him flying through the air and landing in front of the bar. You drank from her glass, watching the guards carry the unconscious opponent away and Sevika letting out a sigh. The music began playing again.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, and by then you had realized that it was a habit of hers, and before scolding you for your attitude and your audacity in drinking from her glass, the woman called for the waiter. "Bring the girl dinner, and a glass of whiskey." she mumbled.

"I like it with soda," you added, smiling pleased from the couch.

Sevika rolled her eyes. "With soda," she said.

When you had already filled your stomach and calmed your nerves with a good whiskey, Sevika reappeared through the door. She had disappeared during your dinner, but returned to the room with a small bag of coins between her fingers and a less cold look than before; you could read the ambition on her face.

"For the arm repair," Sevika said, placing the pouch next to you on the table. To it, she added a small card with an address and the Silco symbol on the bottom, known as the "Eye of Zaun."

You knew that card was your golden ticket.

"This..." she said lowly. "Is a way to keep yourself fed and off the streets, if you're interested."

As you nodded, Sevika leaned in to whisper in a tone that made you shudder. Her scent of tobacco wafted into your nose, her closeness overwhelming. "Report to this address tomorrow at 8. Not a single minute later. We'll talk business when the time comes."

"Yes, ma'am." you said, making Sevika grin.

"Sevika." she said. "I am not into formality."

With that, she walked away, leaving you with a job opportunity and a pouch full of coins.

You did it. You fucking did it.

And tomorrow you would prove that your actions weren't just talk but pure merit. You counted the coins, it was enough for a hotel room and half of what you owed Horner. You smiled, he's always been good faking a Shimmer overdose.

As the days went by, you went from rat to girl. You met Silco, you closed a deal for private services to the organization, you took care of the maintenance of machinery, clothing and weapons. You were a full-time worker, you spent your hours within the four walls of the workshop, living off of coffee, bread, fruit and whiskey. Sevika watched you from the beginning, it was the task that Silco had entrusted to her; "Keep an eye on the girl, make her work and keep her mouth shut."

And that's what you did.

When the time came, you went from girl to mechanic. The workshop was not only your workplace, but your temple. Silco allowed you to accept external orders, you began to build a business that not only gave you autonomy, but also colored your cheeks, filled out your muscles and gave you the beauty that poverty had taken from you.

It was then that you went from mechanic to sweetheart. And Sevika forced herself to keep her distance, but the numerous appointments to check her arm, the jokes, the glances and the talks had loosened this armor against you. Now you ate full dinners, steaks, roasted vegetables, drank lemonade and replaced coffee with Shimmer, with Sevika as your only provider.

That was her mistake.

She thought she had done you a favor by providing you the doses. You worked better, your efficiency was through the roof, your performance impeccable. But that night, seeing you unconscious on the floor of her office, surrounded by paramedics and pale as snow, Sevika knew that you ended up like this because of her.

Her fault. Her damn fault.

"You've allowed this." said Silco, dragging from his cigar. He seemed quite unbothered by the situation, considering your incident as another problematic worker that couldn't control herself. All businesses have causalities, however, this wasn't just any. "She wasn't supposed to be at your office."

Your inert eyes, the way your body lay languid, a purple substance coming out of the corner of your mouth as if your insides were melting, the paramedics trying to revive a being whose life was hanging by a thread. It was a nightmare.

"She's dead." The paramedic said.

Dead.

Dead.

You died for her.

Because of her.

"Ah!" Sevika sat up suddenly, a drop of sweat wetting the back of her neck when her eyes landed on the halo of moonlight that was leaking through the window. She had dreamed of the accident again.

She wiped the sweat from her neck with a quick gesture and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Just a dream, she told herself, just a damn dream.

Sevika didn't even stop to put her mechanical arm on, which was resting next to her bed, but left the room at a quick pace and uncovered your sleeping figure on the living room couch.

You were fine.

You were curled up on the couch, your bandaged wrist resting next to your face, serene and calm. Your breathing reminded Sevika that you were still alive, even though you threatened to die on the old wooden floor of her office a month ago. But you were too stubborn to die from an overdose. You shifted in your spot, the breeze biting at your skin in the absence of the blanket over you, and when you opened your eyes you found the immense silhouette of Sevika before you. You screamed.

Sevika winced at your sharp cry, her hand reaching out instinctively to cover your mouth, to silence the sound before it echoed through the apartment.

"Shhh!" she hissed, her eyes darting towards the main door. The last thing she needed was for someone to think she was murdering someone in there.

"Quiet, quiet," she whispered, her hand still firmly over your mouth. "You'll wake the whole damn block with that shrieking."

Your heart skipped a beat before connecting two coherent thoughts and realizing it was Sevika. The woman pulled her hand away. "Fuck, don't stand in front of me like that again," you gasped. "I thought it was the grim reaper."

She took a step back, giving you some breathing room. "Believe me, he must have more important things to attend to," she said, her voice still low. "Just came to check on you. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

You sat up, reaching out to turn the oil lamp on. Sevika was still on her tank top and boxers, it was unusual to see her without the prosthetic arm. "I'm fine." you said. "You could've came to check in the morning, damn... what time it is?" you asked.

It's three," she replied, her tone still hushed. "Go back to sleep, girl. I just... wanted to make sure you were alright."

The lamplight outlined Sevika's silhouette, you could see the sweat on her neck and a certain pallor on her face. You assumed it was another nightmare, you already knew about them, but you avoided bringing them up because every time you did, she would shut you up with an "I'm fine, girl, go to sleep."

You watched her walk towards the balcony, a pack of cigarettes in her hand and a deep sigh leaving her lips. When she had the cigarette between her lips, you were suddenly beside her, lighting it up. “What’s really going on?” you asked.

"Can't a woman just enjoy her smoke in peace?" she grumbled, taking a drag from the cigarette. But there was no real malice in her voice, just a touch of weariness. She leaned against the balcony railing, the metal cool beneath her bare arm.

You sighed, coming up against a wall again. Sevika was impenetrable, so much so that you didn't know what was going through her mind unless she said it, and you could certainly assume it had to do with her nightmares, but you didn't dare to intrude on her fears. Still, you stayed next to her on the balcony, your stomach aching as the first sign of withdrawal.

The first few days were atrocious, you trembled and vomited every hour, you believed that dying was more pleasant than enduring such nausea and fits of anger and pain. However, Sevika stood firm by your side, brought you to her apartment and such a nurse, kept track of your symptoms and silenced them with the medicines the doctor had prescribed you. More than once, she stayed next to you on the couch, talking to you about trivialities or reading a book until the sleeping pill took effect and you could sleep. Only then did Sevika allow herself to stroke your forehead and relive the guilt of the accident.

Sevika had lived long enough to witness the effects of Shimmer on people. It didn't just destroy wills, it destroyed bodies and minds. The mutations from overuse of Shimmer were morbid and grotesque, luckily you didn't experience any, but that didn't make seeing you on the office floor, languid, pale, with your eyes open any less terrifying. Silco saw Sevika lose her temper for the first time in his life.

"I shouldn't have let you take those doses," she finally muttered, the words coming out with a hint of gravel in her voice. "I should've found a different way. This..." she gestured to you, the signs of her failure still lingering in the bags under your eyes and the scars along your arms, "...this is on me. My fault."

So that's what it was all about; guilt. Sevika had learned to take the blame for other people, to take responsibility for other people's mistakes, and this time was no different. Yes, she made a mistake by giving you doses of Shimmer for two years, but you were the one who decided to relapse. And you took all the blame. "Nobody forced me to relapse that day, Sevika." you stated. "And nobody could've stopped me neither, not even you."

For a moment, she was quiet, mulling over your words, the smoke from her cigarette spiraling up into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be the one consoling me, girl,” she said finally, the vulnerability in her tone betraying her gruff exterior. “I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

"We both know that a worker isn't taken care of the way you take care of me," you stated, your words implying more than what they said.

"You've never been a mere worker for me," she stated, letting out a puff of smoke, moving away into the air. Zaun was quiet, as if the city had stopped the day you nearly died. "Sometimes I can't stand you, you don't know when to back off."

You reached for her cigarette, taking a drag. "I never learned to back off."

“Of course, you didn’t,” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “You’re as stubborn as they come. Should’ve known from the beginning that I’d have my hands full with you.”

And here you were, two years later, sleeping on her couch and making her coffee in the mornings, refusing to die without proving once again that you are many things, but not a street rat.

You had already settled into a routine. Sevika would leave early in the morning, usually returning at noon to check on you. You always waited for her with a cigarette and a cup of coffee, you started adding a touch of whiskey when you realized she liked it. You used to keep the apartment clean, read the books Sevika kept, play with her cards and sometimes take out your tools and make crafts or repair unused items, even though Sevika had forbidden you to work until you had recovered.

"Your recovery comes first, girl. Go easy."

Sometimes you found yourself chatting with her on the balcony, taking drags from her cigarette and oiling her mechanical arm, before daring to ask how her day was, absorbing her worries and whispering a "you always put up with too much, Sev" afterwads, only for her to shrug and light another cigarette. Being her tenant had allowed you to see Sevika in a much more intimate setting, without the need to maintain the impenetrable facade. You watched her sleep, yawn, train, and even cook; your favorite was the mushroom stew with enhacium powder. It was quite the meal, always leaving you with a heavy stomach and a pleasant drowsiness, although your tongue took the brunt of the sting of the powder. Sevika could feel you starting to itch as your cheeks colored, and with a smile, she would hand you the lemonade.

You were embarrassed to admit it, even more so considering that the overdose could have killed you, but you were grateful that circumstances led you to live with Sevika. Sometimes you wished you had done it sooner, but you remembered the way she reacted when you woke up in the hospital and regretted it.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, girl, understood? Never again." she said, agitated, holding your hand in hers.

You could never apologize enough to take the blame off Sevika's chest, so you just limited yourself to being a good roommate.

"Would you mind helping me with the painkiller?" you asked then, placing the cigarette between Sevika's lips. Despite having started the methadone treatment more than a month ago, it still gave you the shivers to handle the syringe.

"Of course," she said simply, her voice a mix of gruffness and understanding. "Let me do it."

You two sat down on the couch, Sevika holding the cigarette between her lips as she wrapped the elastic around your arm and tightened it. You didn’t admit it out loud, but ever since you’d been staying at Sevika’s apartment, your favorite time of day was when she helped you with the methadone. You loved the way her eyes focused on you, her thumb gently searching for your vein, commanding you to close your fist, then after piercing your skin, whispering “there you go,” pulling the needle back out before caressing the mark with her finger and purring “good girl.” She made you feel special, you were pampered by a woman who didn’t pamper anyone, and it was exhilarating in the most unusual way.

You thought you could take a thousand injections if it meant continuing to be Sevika’s good girl.

"Easy as pie," she said, her voice a rough whisper. "No pain, no drama." she added, disposing of the syringe in the trash can.

You watched her put out her cigarette in the ashtray, expecting her to sit next to you and wait for you to fall asleep like she always did. You had gotten used to hearing her voice by now. Just then, the first hit of the drug bathed you. It was always the strongest, however after a few weeks, the dose had decreased and only gave you a pleasant drowsiness.

"You're getting sleepy." she said. "Good."

Sevika watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, your body slumping back against the couch. The drug had done its work, a gentle drowsiness seeping into your limbs and calming your nerves. You felt an arm wrap around your waist, Sevika lifted you over her shoulder and carefully carried you to her bed. "It's too damn cold in the living room," was her excuse, even though you didn't ask for one. The bed was still warm, wide and the sheets smooth. Sevika wasn't lying when she said she prefers her whiskey neat and her bed soft.

She turned off the lamp, snuggling up to you, keeping a prudent distance that at the moment seemed ridiculous to you. "Do I scare you?" you teased her.

"Scare me?" she huffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Come closer then." you said, pushing your luck just enough. And Sevika seemed to give in.

You rested your head on her chest, allowing yourself to inhale her scent and feel the beat of her heart; it was slow, imposing, just like her. Sevika frowned, ignoring the urge to bury her nose in your hair and entwine her legs with yours. You heard her sigh, you were dozing off by then. "Rest, girl, you need it."

Sevika wasn’t the best early riser, but she woke up in a better mood that morning. A hand around your waist, her nose on your neck as if your scent alone had calmed all her nightmares, and it did. You were still asleep, comfortable and serene while she spooned you, unaware that Sevika pulled you close to her, taking in your cleavage from where she was; your shirt had shifted in the night, revealing more of your skin.

Look away, Sevika, get a grip.

Sevika sighed against your neck, knowing she was treading unfamiliar and inappropriate territory, but she couldn't help it. Her hand found the edge of your tank top, pulling it down just to reveal your breasts; smooth, tender and full.

No, she shouldn't, but... she wanted to? Absolutely.

Her lips found the sensitive area of your neck, trailing kisses and nips down to your shoulders and collarbone, daring to squeeze one of your tits between her fingers. You shifted on your place, the air biting on your bare chest managed to draw your attention and Sevika pulled her hands off, as if she was spooked of herself.

What the hell am I doing?

"Mhm..." you uttered, your hand seeking for Sevika's, bringing it back towards your chest. "Don't stop." you whispered, your eyes still closed.

Sevika gulped, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as she reached out again, catching your breast between her fingers and massaging it gently, peppering kisses down your neck, your cheek, your shoulder. You felt her abdomen press harder against your back, you shifted your ass against her, half asleep but perfectly aware of what was happening, and you wouldn’t let her stop.

She grunted against your neck, her hand squeezing harder your breast. "Don't move," she growled softly, her breath hot against your ear. "Stay just like this."

You moaned, your hand reaching her cheek, urging her to touch you, to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered open as she ran her hand down your stomach, teasing your lower belly, down to your legs, the inner side of your thighs. "Sev..." you purred.

"I'm here," she whispered against your ear. "I've got you."

"Shit." you whimpered, your eyes shutting once she slipped her hand into your shorts, settling between your legs. That's all you needed to fully wake up. "Ah, god." you panted, feeling her fingers against your slick.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" she breathed against your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. She pressed kisses along your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "Yes, you are."

As much confidence Sevika showed, the truth was that inside she was shaking with fear. She was crossing a line she had imposed on herself when she met you two years ago, and she had never felt so out of control as she did now. It wasn’t just your moans, it was your scent, your heat, the idea that she was the one who gave you the opportunity that night at the club and now you were lying on her bed, squirming under her hand. She forged this situation from the moment she laid eyes on you, not knowing that you intended to end up in this position ever since she leaned in and her tobacco scent filled your nostrils. You intended to work for Sevika, to be her confidant, her best partner and above all… to become her weak point.

You pulled your head back, moaning as Sevika parted your legs and eased a finger inside you, licking your ear. "Sleeping on my couch, playing with my cards, wearing my clothes while I'm gone; all you've done to end up here." she mumbled, easing a second one, knowing you could take it.

"Yes, I... I did it." you whimpered, gripping the sheets between your fingers.

"You were testing me." she stated, biting on your neck. "Always pushing my buttons to see when I would give in."

You knew Sevika wasn't just playing around with you when she rubbed the heel of her hand against your clit, already swollen and sensitive for her. The room was filled with the obscene sound of your slick, your moans and Sevika's words. "Legs apart." she commanded. "You never learned to follow instructions, learn now." she said.

"Yes, ma'am." you whined, before Sevika chuckled.

"Didn't I tell you I'm not into formality?"

She could never forget the details of the time they met, no. Not when she was the one who saw you enter the club with your toolbox, your tired eyes, your steely confidence. Not when she was the one who asked Silco for a job opportunity for you and paid you with her own coins. Not when she chose you, for herself, from the first moment.

You were hers from the beggining, and somehow you knew it.

Her hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers moving expertly, making pleasurable heat pool in your belly. "You can pretend to be tough all you want, but when you're with me, you're not."

Your legs were locking around her hand, your breathing quick and ragged as Sevika sped up the motion of her fingers. Fuck, you were starting to shake, that tickling sensation settling in your stomach.

"You and your insolent mouth, your smug smile…" she whispered. "I wanted them for myself, I always did." You shifted, knowing that if Sevika had the mechanical arm on, she would already be choking you. However, you felt her move over you, trapping you against the mattress.

"Sevika… I'm…" you mewled, realizing you were on the very edge. "Huh, please..."

"I know." she smiled, as she laid above you, her hand firmly working on your throbbing pussy. "Now kiss me, pretty girl. Earn it."

You cupped her cheeks, kissing her as much as your moans would allow, tasting the tobacco on her tongue, her teeth between your lips. Sevika kissed like she walked, and that was saying a lot. You pulled back, realizing the trembling of your legs was the hint of an orgasm you couldn't contain. "Oh... god...!" you cried against her lips before you dove into the sensation.

And you melted.

Sevika leaned down to kiss your chin, your neck, totally in love with your whimpers and trembling lips, your smell of sweat, your juicy pussy. You barely rode the high when Sevika kissed your belly, a hand tracing fingers on your knee as her mouth hovered over your core. "I could lick it off of you, y'know?" she smirked.

You were in no position to ask or deny anything, but Sevika was in the perfect position to tempt you and play on your desire. “If only I didn’t have that meeting with Silco in…” she glanced at the clock beside the bed. “Ten minutes.”

Oh, no.

"Ten minutes is more than enough." you said, even though it sounded like a plea.

But Sevika chuckled, leaning to place a kiss on your lips. "I don't rush things when I eat a pretty girl out." she stated, leaving the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, staring at Sevika with your lips apart. Unfazed, she took the mechanical arm and connected it to her shoulder, glancing at you with a rose brow.

"Wait for me with the coffee ready," she said, walking to the dresser to get ready. "I'll finish what I started, sugar, don't worry."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika @armeenix @bambishaven @xblinkx2 @luvg1s3l1e @dopemusiccowboy @imheadintothemountains @lilithyys @soullessbody @lavendersgirl @lovesickdreamer @makaylaislovely @demonofpuns @celestialst4r @ilovehotd @emmanetalias @bethany-l87 @marah280 @srtuna @jannesyjane @victoriaanne9 @rottngrl3 @depressedqueersocialists @slut4sevika @fragilsnoopy @stmvivs @sillystarv @vyvvycg

Also, I haven't stopped to thank u all for your reception of this series. It makes me absolutely happy you girls like it so far! Thank u all <3

[dolene]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ : people teaser / franco colapinto x reader

summary: Imagine having a friend who would spend his time judging and bothering you when he has any other job to do. Annoying, right? Well, this is what happened to a couple of young adults who would do such things to each other in a day-to-day basis, everybody knows that something like this could led to something more. But of course—ever the stubborn couple, who are they to believe? Until days after denying and more teasing, they finally launching their relationship. In a slowest way possible.

warnings: bad concepts, messy layouts, translated spanish, ignore timestamps, veryyyy far from the summary.

yourusername San Francisco, Los Angeles

Liked by francolapinto and 468,195 others

yourusername It's da-bomb! 🍔💥

view all 2,701 comments

francolapinto Relax man no one is going to snatch it from you

username It's his third time posting his annoying ahh comments here like someone please take his phone away from him

yourusername He's obsessed with me that's why 💁🏼‍♀️

francolapinto In your dreams

yourusername Wouldn't even dream of it.

username that period ain't playing tho bruv

username Great, now I'm starving...

username how is she eating that with ever so cutesy and demure 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

alexandrasaintmleux I need to go grab that ASAP! You made me so hungry with this 🙂‍↕️

yourusername You should, it was soooo gewdddd

francolapinto What language is *gewd* exactly

username bro it's clearly unnecessary 😭💀

username At this point they're turning this whole comment section into a bicker space

username the fact the he liked this post faster than kelly liked max's post is immaculate and i bet that this could convince red bull to hire him at some point 🤔

username He left his notification on fr

username Bro can't even be slick even after his experience in teasing them poor reporters

username I need them to be together now

username they can't even handle them bickering in the comment section and now y'all want them to be together???

iMESSAGE

INSTAGRAM

francolapinto

Liked by lewishamilton and 1,142,174 others

francolapinto Muchas cosas pueden pasar en un año.. 😊

view all 10,847 comments

mercedesamgf1 We need to see the selfie

williamsracing 💙

francolapinto Tomando mi lugar de nuevo yourusername

yourusername Fangirl behavior 🙄😒

username Mind yall he didn't even interact, nor liked both teams but with her he did

francolapinto I always have time to reply to my biggest fangirl ever

username Wait what happened

username Solo veo dos cabras

username Queremos ver la selfie, Fran

username quem é esse npc na ultima foto kkkkkkk

username LEWIS ADDED THIS TO HIS STORYYY

username I would be him too

username GOATS 💜💙

username Their fashion difference is soooo😭😭😭😭😭😭

yourusername

Liked by iamrebeccad and 1,863,547 others

yourusername Gonna miss this sooo much after it ends!! See you next weeeeeeekkkkkk 🧜🏻‍♀️💜

view all 742 comments

iamrebeccad That is literally the prettiest, most ethereal make up I've seen today. Hope you've had a good premiere, darling girl 💜💜

username Rebecca liked & commented in just 5 seconds after she posted this is an insane work

username Kelly on Max's instagram:

raye The prettiest!!

username I love my busy and employed queen<3

username omg relationship crusher inspo

username funny how franco is not here to judge her

username I know Vanessa's bad, but like... I'd support her wrongs and rights 😞

username She slayed the look OMG

username I'm in aweee, girl send more to your stories rn

username Cooked, ate, delivered. 🍽️

francolapinto I miss the time when you're curling your hair using balusters...

username This is the very much time he wrote long english to jump into a flashback

username Okay now we've all got our wildest heatless curl methods, BUT BALUSTERS????

yourusername THAT'S UNNECESSARYYYYYYY

username She's serving face and he's there doing a typically embarrassing flashback

username DID SOMEBODY SAID RELATIONSHIP CRUSHER MAKEUP INSPO😭😭😭😭😭😭

username I got on my knees at Walmart

francolapinto Shibuya, Japan

Liked by oscarpiastri and 984,733 others

francolapinto Un recordatorio para no dejar a tu hija sola en público

view all 13,285 comments

username In all of the sudden they're in Shibuya now

username Wait are they finally official?

yourusername My irresponsible friend just took a pic and left 😒👎

alex_albon I wonder who

username THE WHAT

username Alright the rivalry sort of thing is kinda not making any sense by now

username ¿Verdad? Como, ¿qué clase de rival que te haría una foto con una cámara de 35mm?

username i need them to just kiss already

username Guys they're just friends. Can't a guy and a girl befriend in peace?

username is it me or did Oscar is also invested with this whole drama...

username ¿Es ella su novia?

username peor

username They looked like an old married couple doing a tbt here awww

username Alright no lie the pic is kinda fire tho

username Chat is this a hard launch or what

lilymhe A hard launch to a group chat war

username Alex playing dumb and Lily is the admin of their groupchat are NOT on my bingo card for this month

TWITTER

EARLIER THAT DAY, Y/N'S iMESSAGE

MEANWHILE, LILY AND ALEX...

francolapinto added a photo to their story francolapinto · 3h

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yourusername & francolapinto added photos to their story yourusername · 23h

francolapinto ★ · 13h

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note from DOLENE: soooooo very sorry that it took me for almost half a year to finish a smau again... my brain's kinda stuck on inspirations these days and hope you all can understand. but either way, i've got something for new years fics and i reaaaaallyy hope that my brain's not blanking out yet in that moment on. and until next time lovelies<3

[kimmryokoo]

Late Night - logan howlet

author: kim ryoko

masterlist

summary: logan was supposed to go to a mission that would only last 3 days. unfortunately, it took longer then expected. your birthday went by quicly and you were already sleeping when logan returned. you both really missed each other and you let a kiss turn into something bigger...

word count: 3k

warnings: figeting, smut, filthy, reader has no appetite, slight possibility of death (doesn't happend), teasing, sub reader, little fluff at the end

author's note: english isn't my first language so i'm sorry for ay grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. i'm so sorry it took me this long to publish something. i've been really busy lately. my birthday was on december 13th (the same as taylor swift🤭), so i wrote this as a sort of birthday present.

It's been days since you last saw Logan. He was out on a mission with Scott and Jean, and they left exactly 7.5 days ago when it was supposed to only last 3 days. You missed Logan very much, and tomorrow was your birthday so you were rooting for Logan and the rest of the team to arrive the night before or in the morning of the day.

It was already 11pm the day before your birthday and you were still waiting for your friends and lover to arrive while sitting in a bench on the jet garage and you then heard the big and thick metal doors sliding to open and the sound of wheels caught your attention.

“You're still here? It's getting late. You should head to bed and get a good night's sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Charles said.

“I'm just waiting for them to arrive.” you spoke with a tone filled with exhaustion, worry, hope and love, all at the same time.

“Unfortunately, I don't think they'll come back today.”

“What makes you say that, professor?”

“If they were to return, Jean would've reached to me and reported everything that happened while they were out on the mission, but she hasn't yet.” Charles argued and got a bit closer to you, now sitting next to you and putting an understanding hand on your back.

“I really wanted to spend tomorrow with them.” you said in a sad voice.

“I know. But the only thing you can do right now is go to sleep and get energized for when they do come back.” he stated in his always calm tone.

“You're right. Thank you, professor.” and before you got up to leave the room, you gave a loose hug to the older man that has supported you through so many things.

It was now the next day, 6:30 a.m. and your alarm went on with his job of waking you up. His loud rings easily made their way to your ears and woke you up with a symphony that reminded you a lot of screaming babies. To end your suffering, you quickly moved your hand to turn off the alarm.

You sat up and stared at the place where your feet were hidden under the blanket. You then looked to your side and saw the cold, empty bed you wished was filled by Logan.

You sighed and got up to prepare yourself a bath to give you enough fuel to go through the day.

After you got out of the shower and put on some clothes, you packed everything you needed for the day and when you were packing the notebook where you plan your classes, you saw something written on the page the notebook was opened, and it looked like Logan’s lettering.

‘ Hey. So, I'm pretty sure this mission ain't gonna take 3 days like those dip heads are saying, so I'm writing a note for your birthday, so you can at least hear from me that day.I know that the day you're reading this is your birthday day, because I can see the date of the classes you planned in here. First of all, happy birthday, and I want you to know that I love you. A lot. And you're honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I also want you to know that if I'm not there for your birthday, I'm dying of how much I miss you. I really hope you have a great day and that I get to see you or at least talk to you today. Love ya.

-Lo ’

Wow. Even when he's away, he somehow manages to make your day better.

You read the note and felt your heart swell with love for that man.

You finished packing everything and stepped outside the room and only a few steps later you were attacked by someone who came running towards you from your back and back-hugged you.

“Happy Birthday!” you heard the person whom you then knew was Ororo from her voice.

You turned to your friend and she immediately hugged you properly. Your smile grew wider from all the care your friend was giving you.

“Thank you, Ororo.”

“I got you a present! But I’m only going to give it to you at the end of the day.” the white haired woman said while breaking the hug and holding both your hands to continue touching you somehow.

“Then why would you tell me now?! You’re going to make me anxious all day!” you said in a pout tone but with a smile on your lips as you squeezed your friend’s hands harder.

“I know you have classes to teach, and so have I so I’m not going to take your precious time.” she grinned and kissed my cheek “Have a great day and happy birthday again!” She continued and started walking towards the direction she came from whilst waving a small ‘good-bye’ to which you responded with the same gesture and a kind and grateful smile.

You quickly arrived at your class and from that moment forward, that day was filled with people saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to you and many ‘Happy birthday’ songs.

At the end of all your classes, you decided to head back to the jet garage to wait for the team, since they haven’t arrived yet. While you were sitting on the same bench as the day before, you heard the same sound as you’ve heard the day before - heavy metal doors sliding open and metal wheels going your direction.

“What a Déjà vu, huh?” you said playfully to Charles, who chuckled softly at your statement.

“I would also say so myself. I presume you're here doing the same thing as you were yesterday?”

“Yeah.” you said looking down. The truth was that your day had been amazing, but it still felt a bit empty without Logan.

“Have you had dinner yet? It’s almost 8 p.m. .”

“No, I came here right after my classes finished. I’m just so worried. They should’ve been back by now. What if something bad happened? What if they…?”

“I’m sure it hasn’t. Have a little more faith in them. Go eat something and then I’ll let you come back here, but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep at least by 11 p.m.”

“Fine.” you responded with a tone of defeat and got up to walk to the kitchen.

You tried your best to eat a normal sized meal, but you were too worried to eat anything. You stared at your plate with a small amount of mach-and-cheese and stirred it for about 30 minutes. It took you a long time to eat all of your food, but eventually you finished and cleaned the mess you made.

You left the kitchen and saw the rest of the mansion in complete darkness. You know your way around, and your heart was telling you to go back downstairs and wait for Logan a little longer but you also knew that whether you wanted to or not, you'd make noise that would probably wake someone up and that would make you feel bad. You glance back at the clock on the kitchen wall and see it’s almost 10 p.m. and consider going straight to bed and not risking waking up any student that might make your day 10 times worse tomorrow. You end up going to your room, since you’re also pretty tired from your day.

Once you closed your bedroom door, you started doing your night routine and only a few moments after you lay on your bed, you fell asleep.

You later woke up to what sounded like a door opening and closing. And then another door opened and closed.

You looked around the room and found nothing wrong. It must've been in your dream, so you went back to sleep.

You woke up again, but this time with an arm wrapping around your waist and you supported your weight on your elbow and turned slightly just to see Logan’s exhausted face looking at you with apologizing eyes from his pillow.

“Logan!” you said happily and hugged the man tightly while burying your face in his neck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you!” you said and pulled a bit back to look at Logan’s face.

You leaned forward to lightly press your lips against his. That soft kiss was deepened when his hand grabbed the the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He was quick to change you positions so that he was on top. One of Logan’s hands supported his weight on the mattress near your face while the other one roamed free through your body squeezing your skin. You felt Logan’s tongue against your lips and didn't hesitate to let it in.

“You have no idea how much I missed ya.” Logan said in between kisses with a rough and starved tone that made you moan against his mouth.

In response to your sound, you felt his hips pressuring against yours while his free hand wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was beneath his pants and you never wanted something so bad like you did in that moment.

Logan’s mouth didn't restrain only your mouth. It also traveled to your neck and collarbones and you then smelled the scent of his shampoo. That's why you heard 2 doors opening and closing. One of them was your bedroom door and the other one was the bathroom's. It made sense now.

All that sense was rapidly taken away from you when you felt his bulge starting to move against your clothed pussy.

“Ahh… Logan…” you moaned “Please…” you finished.

“What, darlin’? Tell me. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you, birthday girl.”

“I… I want you…”

“Where?” he asked “Here?” he said, faking innocence while rubbing stripes on top of your shorts.

“Y-yes…” you said with flushed cheeks.

“Well then. Imma have to take this off.” He said and sat up on his knees to smoothly rip your shorts out of you to find out you weren't wearing any underwear.

“Oh fuck, princess. You'll be the death of me. I've been gone for over a week and come back to you all wet like this? Do you know how hard it is to control myself when all I could smell was this neddy pussy since you saw me?” he asked. His face gets closer with each word. Almost close enough to kiss you.

“Then don't.” you said breathless and softly. You then leaned a bit forward to lick his lips and made them open just a small bit.

You saw the way his eyes darkened in pure lust and you felt it in the way he kissed you - with so much passion and need.

Logan only broke the kiss to sit back up on his knees to rip your shirt off, letting your chest free.

“Why’d you rip all my clothes off?” you asked with your breath taken from the way he took your nipples in his mouth which made you back ark for more.

“My present.” he stated in a low tone.

“But it’s my birthday…” you answered with your eyes closed and a moan escaping your lips when you were done talking.

“Your birthday, my present.”

Logan continued to play with you for a few minutes when you felt a knot on your stomach.

“Lo, I’m close…”

With that, Logan stopped paying attention to your breasts and took his hand to your core, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and slowly inserting his index and middle finger on your clenching hole.

You almost screamed out of pleasure when you felt Logan’s fingers moving inside you and scissoring you open to prepare you. You soon came undone under the felling of the friction of his long, thick and calloused hands inside your pussy.

Logan pulled back his body, taking his fingers out of your hole and putting them in his mouth for a brief second, sucking them.

“The sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.” he uttered.

He then proceeded to put those same fingers inside your mouth, this time.

“Suck.” he demanded, and when you did as he ordered, he continued “Atta girl.”

With his free hand, he pulled down his pants and his cock immediately sprung free, slapping against his abs, with veins popping out and precum leaking from the tip. Logan then slowly stroked his length to lubricate it while you watched with saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth and your core getting wetter with every passing second, even though you just cummed.

Logan grabbed his cock by the base and aligned it with your hole, pushing bit by bit, inch by inch, until you were a moan and whimper mess. Once he bottomed you out, you moaned into his digits.

“Such a pretty little fuckin’ slut” he said as his gaze stared intensely to where your bodies met, watching you clench around him in an oh so delicious way.

Logan pulled back his hips to immediately rock them back into yours, making the thrilling sound of his skin slapping against yours fill your ears and your brain. Logan’s pace started slow - always careful not to hurt you - but you could tell it was different then usual. He was rougher than normal, eating you out with more urgency.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be inside this pussy again.” he groaned at the end of the sentence.

Logan’s pace sped up as he started to seek for the pleasure of his high that he had felt coming since he began fucking you. Logan knew that after so many days of only cumming with his hand while thinking of in his tend don't even compare to the feel of being inside you and that once he felt it again, he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long.

Logan took a moment to stop thinking about anything and look at you. Really look at you. The way your hair was messy because of the pillow, the way your forehead was sweating more than usual from thee over-stimulation, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head every time he pounded inside you, the way your cheeks where flustered and got more red every time he praised you, the way your beautiful lips where glossy and red from all the sucking and that pretty string of saliva dripping in your cheek, the way your neck was marked from his hard work, the way your tits bounced up and down rhythmically with the times he fucked himself into you and the hickeys and red spots here and there, the way your clit was swollen and over-sensitive, the way your pussy wrapped around his cock so perfectly and clenched around him making him feel like he was in heaven, the way your sweet noises filled the room and you the way you called his name like it was a prayer. Fuck… Logan couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed your legs and put them on his shoulders, giving him better access to your g-spot and bending even further to kiss you. The kiss was rugged but held all the feelings he felt when he was alone in his cold sleeping bag in the inside of his tent while listening to Scott and Jean doing what he would kill to be doing with you.

“Lo… I-I’m coming again…”

“That’s it. Come for me princess.”

And, you did as you were told.

As soon as he felt you coming apart on his cock, he couldn’t resist it anymore and filled you up.

“Good girl. Always doing as you’re told.” he said in a teasing and low voice in which you only responded with another moan.

Logan helped you ride both your highs and you both soon came completely. He then let himself fall to your side, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you for the present.” you said with a smile on your face as you lifted up your hand to play with his hair.

Logan chuckled and asked “You think this is your present? I told you it was mine. My fucking present for putting up with Scott and Jean for so long without leaving them there and coming back here to your arms.”

You laughed.

“I wouldn’t have minded that.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to do it next time.” he joked and you felt his smile against your neck and you laughed again.

“Where’s my present, then?”

“Such an impatient girl.” he said as he pushed himself up, kissed you and grabbed a small box from his nightstand, all without coming out of you.

“Here you go, birthday girl.” He said and kissed your forehead.

You looked at the box and kissed Logan as a thank you. You opened the box and saw dog tags with your info on it and a picture of you and Logan.

“Well this, this is actually for me.” he said as he took your dog tags and with his other hand, he took his own off his neck and gave it to you.

“This is the one that’s actually for you. You know, I really missed you when I was out on the mission, and I know you miss me too when I’m gone so I thought this was a good way for me to always have a piece of you and you always have a piece of me. I also know how much you like that picture, so-” You interrupted him by kissing him.

“Thank you. I love it!” you said and he looked at you like you were an angel. His angel. “I love you, Logan.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

You cupped Logan’s cheeks and kissed him.

Both of you cuddled for the rest of the night and were finally able to fall asleep next to each other after so many nights apart. You were able to be next to each other, to feel the other's warmth.

That was the best night’s sleep both of you have had last week.

Hope you liked it!

xoxo, kim ryoko

[sungvrhs]

Never Stopping Now - Lee Heeseung

"We're just getting started, my love." Warnings: EXPLICIT! Female!reader x Male!Heeseung! Overstimulation and handcuffs WORD COUNT: 1.3K

note: Posting for the Diary 2024: #15240822 with my twin @diorsyun! Reblogs and comments would be appreciated. English ain't my native language so please ignore any grammartical errors.

───────────────⋆⋅MDNI⋅⋆───────────────

"H-Hee it's t-too much-" a choked moan escaped your lips whilst the man slowed down his thrusts, the head board colliding with the wall while the cuffs clinked against it. Lying in your stomach, your rapid breathing paced up as the pillow absorbed your tears, low grunts escaping his lips. "Shh baby, just a little more. I know you can take it." His palm took place beside your neck, his figure resting against yours as his sloppy thrusts continued, his free leg taking firm support on the floor while the other took support of his knee. The slow makeout session that started on the edge of the bed ended in a never ending intercourse, you couldn’t possibly keep track of how long it had been since he got his hands on you. He was impatient earlier that day, and his clingy nature seemed like a natural routine to you, just like every other day. But him having other plans to end the day was something not on schedule. A man full of surprises, and a woman who would accept his surprises, you both were made for each other. Except for the fact that he would always yearn for more than just kisses. Every now and then it was him dragging you to somewhere, in any given moment and would take his sweet time with you. But today was something different. “Love, come here.” He spoke, tapping on his lap slightly whilst you looked away from the mirror, putting down the cleanser as you wiped off makeup off your face. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” You raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the tone of voice he had as he nodded sideways, disagreeing with your thoughts. “It’s nothing! Trust me!” He exclaimed, amazed at how you weren’t buying his excuse. “Better spill the beans before I take my leave.” Not hearing a response from you turned on your heels, knowing that he would let it out in a few moments from now, as you mentally counted backwards from 5. “Wait wait!” He sprinted forth to hold your wrist, causing you to tilt your head as he bit his lips, a mischievous gaze reflecting in his orbs causing you to slap his arm slightly as to which he whined. “What? Is it not common for a man to have desires for his wife?” He sulked, causing you to roll your eyes as you spoke, “It is, but not that often! We just shared a moment about a few hours ago and-” “Few hours already? God, it explains well whyI’m craving for you.” Pulling you closer as he pushed you on the bed, not waiting for your response. “Heeseung, wait!” Your hands took hold of his that were resting on your waistband, halting his movements, moving your eyes up to meet his hazy ones. Wrong move!

And here you were, hands cuffed to the bed as he dipped his face deeper in your core, lips meeting yours as he rose you to your climax, broken moans escaping your lips as your back arched, letting your arousal coat his lips as he didn’t waste a single drop of it. Lifting his head up, he was met with his heavenly sight; drenched in sweat, arms hanging up through the cuffs against the headboard, your immobilized breathing after chasing your high. The soft echoes of your breathing synchronized with his, hands resting on the ends of the bed as he threw his head back, savoring the taste that lingered on his taste buds as rose up from the ground, resting his knee on the bed as the sinking of the mattress caused your eyes to flutter open, only to be met with the sight of the love of your life crawling on top of you. Your heartbeats rose, not knowing what was going on in his mind or what he was planning to do next. To say that you weren’t enjoying this would be an understatement, because being the shy one in the relationship to let your intrusive thoughts win, heeseung would always find a way to mingle through your thoughts and find the right thing to do at the right moment. Telepathy would be a nice way to label it and your excitement would always have a wonderful conclusion since he would always do his best to make you see the stars.  

Dropping his head down to connect his lips with yours, you could taste yourself from his lips, the feverish kiss growing intense as you felt the urge to drape your arms around his neck to draw him closer. He was quick enough to notice it, but didn’t exactly oblige to your wish. He instead draws himself closer, letting his body rest against yours whilst his right hand rested on the side of your neck, lifting your jaw up to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped your lips as he grinned, his shaft growing uncomfortable against your fragile body. It was a shame that he would get turned on super easily just by your mere existence but you would never make him feel pathetic about it. Sure you were blunt in your words but that was your way of expressing the complete opposite of what you yearned for. His bulge felt tighter against your core, causing both of you to moan against each other as to which he broke the kiss, resting on his knees as his wrists caught hold of your feet, your eyes widening as he flipped you over, a groan escaping your lips as your arms twisted slightly.

“Hee, calm down, I need a breather- Oh fuck.” You didn't get time to adjust as he pushed his shaft through your core, hands raising your hips to get a better angle as his thrusts picked up pace. “Oh baby, you have no idea how hot headed I am right now.” A grunt escaped his lips as he felt you getting tight. “F-Fuck babe, why are you clenching so much.” He threw his head back, face scrunching at the painful pleasure whilst your hands remained crossed, your shoulders aching, but the pain was inevitable compared to the pleasure you were seeking through in the midst. “H-Hee, please.” You begged, tired from the earlier climax but he had no intentions of stopping by anytime soon. “Oh don’t beg me to stop…” He slowed down, lowering his head against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Beg me for more, cause I’m not stopping anytime soon.” “B-But- Ahh.” He paced up again, successfully reaching your desired spot that caused your eyes to roll behind your head, back arching, hips high up in the air as his hand pushed down your face deeper in the pillows. His other hand took a firm yet soft grip around your neck, his thumb rubbing against it while he whispered, "Just a little more, yeah?" His lips trailing wet kisses against your cheeks that traced to the back of your neck, kissing and licking the familiar heart birthmark that has always been his weakness. Teeth nibbling onto its traces, you gasp, eyes rolling back at how his thrusts paced up, his shaft shifting uncomfortably inside you while you felt his climax nearing. You could feel it and we're just embracing the painfully slow ticking time till you felt his lips chanting your name, head dropping back as he released his load inside you. The warm feeling embraced your body as the both of you panted, taking your sweet time to catch your breaths. His thrusts slowed down, to the point of not moving any longer as you looked behind your shoulder, feeling him pulling out slowly. "Hee wait- Oh!" Another moan escaped your lips while you felt him pushing back in again after a while. "Y-You thought we would be done? Not yet my love. We have just begun and the night is young." Flipping your body so that you were laying on your back again, his thrusts wilding while your eyes glistened, too lost to beg him to stop.  Note#2: Took me long to tune in back here, I owe ya all an apology. But I hope this serves <3

[lustnhim]

დ︎ “after class.” — elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: teacher elvis + requested / warnings: MDNI, age-gap, fingering, slight coercion, oral m-receiving, power imbalance, no protection, p in v sex, that's about it i think :3 / summary: mr. presley asks you to stay after class.

You jerk your head up as the shrieking of the seventh-period bell fills your ears. You look around the room and through wide eyes you watch students leave the classroom, leaving you behind. You groan and rub your eyes before struggling to stand up, trying to adjust to the bright LED lights of the classroom. “Hold on there, Missy.” You hear a deep voice at the front of the room say, shit. You freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you recognize that voice. Mr. Presley, your English teacher,  he's leaning against his desk, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes are locked onto you, and you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. “Me n’ you gonna have a talk.” He adds and motions for you to sit back down, you sleepily nod and walk back to your desk in silence. Sitting down at your desk you scanned his face for any sign of frustration or anger…but you couldn’t make out his expression. Almost amused. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I didn’t sleep well last night.” You explained, just wanting to head home. Mr. Presley chuckles softly, pushing off from his desk and walking towards you. He pulls up a chair, turning it backward and straddling it, his elbows resting on the backrest. "Ain't no need to apologize. I've seen worse things happen in this classroom." He chuckles slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "But tell me this, why is it that every time I see ya, you're either sleepin’ or daydreamin’? Is my teaching that boring?" He tilts his head, studying you. You blush slightly, looking down at your hands fidgeting in your lap.

"No, sir. Your classes are... interesting. It's just...haven’t been sleeping well n’ I just get so distracted." You peek up at him through your lashes. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Presley. I don't mean to seem disrespectful…" You apologize, it’s sincere but you can't help but wonder if your sleepy voice makes you sound ignorant. "Ain't about disrespect," he replies, his voice low and smooth. "More about payin’ attention.” He let out a soft exhale, the smirk still on his lips. “You’re fallin’ behind…grades are slippin’ and the school years just bout over.” You cringe a bit, he wasn’t lying. Your grades had always been good, A’s and B’s- but now you were barely passing. Mr. Presley leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell ya what, Missy. I ain't one for just lettin' kids fail. I believe in givin' everyone a fair shot." He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re gonna stay with me here for a bit. Help ya catch up.” 

You nod, your heart still racing as you agree. Mr. Presley watches you intently, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. He smiles at you and you can't help but wonder what he has in mind.  "First things first," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Let's start with your notes from today's lesson, lemme see what ya’ got.” Sighing softly, you opened your bag pulling out your notes to which half were unintelligible scribbles and the rest were missing. Sitting the paper on your desk you watched as Elvis picked up the paper scanning it before sitting it down on your desk with a smirk. “You’re missin’ half of them.” You bit your lip, feeling both embarrassed and frustrated. "I know. I'll work on them," you promised, grabbing the paper and shoving it back in your bag. Elvis gave you a long look before he stood up, "Alright then," he said, his voice still low and smooth. "I spose’ there's nothing I can do. If you ain’t even got the notes I can’t help you." You watched as Mr. Presley stood up, feeling a sudden panic. "Wait!" you called out, suddenly realizing you needed his help. "Please...I cannot afford to fail this class." You bite your lip nervously, hoping he wouldn't just kick you out. He looked down at you for a moment, his gaze intense, before he spoke. "I ain't one for charity, Missy. But I can't just let you fail." He approached you, his shadow falling over you as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're gonna have to earn your spot, though." His breath sent shivers down your spine, and you gulped. "If you want to stay, you'll have to do whatever I say. And if you do well enough, you'll pass this class. How's that sound?" Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to Mr. Presley's proposal. You knew you had no choice but to accept. "Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever you say."

Elvis smirked, his eyes darkening. "Good girl," he said, patting you on the head like you were a well-behaved puppy. "Now, let's start with something easy." You watched as he walked over to his desk, motioning for you to follow. “Under the desk, sweetheart.” He instructed and you almost couldn’t believe your ears. “W-what?” You stammered and Elvis laughed. “Get under the desk.” He prefaced, hesitating as you walked over to behind his desk, he rolled his chair back a bit to give you room to get in place. God. Why couldn’t you have just paid attention? “Alright honey, now…I wantcha’ to undo my belt.” He said, looking down at you with a hint of amusement. Cursing silently you reached up to his belt, god. The bulge in his pants is extremely obvious. His tummy pooled gently over the belt, heaving as you worked to unbuckle it. “Atta’ girl.” He praised, and you looked up at him, embarrassed. “Take it out.” He ordered, and you felt your hand shake. Taking a deep breath you unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers ever so slightly. His cock sprung free, hard, and thick. You hesitated, glancing at it nervously. "Go on, touch it." Elvis urged, and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his length. He groaned, eyes falling shut for a moment as you gripped him. "Go on," he whispered, and you began stroking, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating wildly. “Get closer, baby," he moaned, and you scooted forward, positioning your head beneath him. "Open up for me." Humiliation gripped you as you parted your lips, your cheeks flushed bright red. Elvis pushed your head forward, his cock pressing against your lips. You hesitated for a moment before taking him into your mouth, the taste of pre-cum making you shudder. You closed your eyes, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling him stretch you. You sucked, your lips gliding up and down his length, your hands gripping his thighs. Elvis groaned, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pushed you faster, your throat bobbing as you took him deeper than you'd thought possible. The taste of him filled your mouth, and you gagged, but you didn't pull away. You couldn't. You needed to do this. Elvis's breathing grew ragged, and he pulled your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Swallow it all down," he ordered. You felt him pulse and hot cum flooded your mouth. You swallowed, choking a little, then swallowed again, emptying him.

He pulled back, leaving you gasping for air. You collapsed back onto your knees, tears stinging your eyes. “That’ll bring your grade to a ‘C’” He gruffed, and you wiped your mouth. A ‘C’? That's it? “Mr. Presley…please...I need an A.” He begged and watched as his semi-hard cock twitched. “Then get outta the floor.” He demanded and quickly you crawled back up to your feet. “Good…I wanna see ya’ bent over the desk.” You quickly scurried around the desk, bending over it, your heart still racing. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you waited for Elvis's next command. You watched him stand up and heard his footsteps behind you. “White pannies’...” You heard him say as he flipped your skirt over the top of your ass. “ An’ a little wet spot.” He humored making you cringe. Fuck, you really were soaked. You felt his ringed fingers cold against the warmth of your skin, shivering as he pulled down your panties, exposing your wetness to the cool air. “Sa’ pretty…" He growled, his hand cupping your mound. You bit your lip, unsure of what to expect as his finger brushed against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. He began to circle it, his other hand gripping your hip, holding you steady. You moaned softly, arching your back as you felt his finger push its way inside you. Slowly at first, then he began to move it in and out, stretching you. You gasped, your body responding to his touch. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and he began to finger you in earnest. You couldn't help but press back against him, wanting more. “She really wants that ‘A’, doesn't she?” He teased and you nodded. “Y-yes sir.” Elvis chuckled deeply, his fingers working in and out of you. "Then you'd better earn it, sweetheart." He growled, his fingers finding your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, your body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. “I’m gonna–” You whimpered before feeling his fingers pull out of you, making you groan and look back at him. “No, you ain’t babydoll. Not yet.” He warned as you felt the tip of his cock prod your entrance. Your heart pounded in your chest as Elvis began to push his cock inside you. You cried out, your body tensing as he filled you up. He went slow at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. "F-fuck! Please...Move.," you panted, your voice laced with need. He began to thrust, slowly at first, then picking up speed. You could feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely. Elvis gripped your hips driving into you, his thrusts growing more forceful. You cried out, your body responding to his, your pussy clenching around him. Sweat beaded on your brow as he drove into you, your ass slapping against the wooden desk. "C'mon, baby. Let go for me," he demanded, his voice low and rough. You couldn't hold back, your orgasm coursing through you, your pussy contracting around him as you came. Elvis followed soon after, his thrusts becoming sloppy, more desperate for friction, before filling you up completely. Pulling out, Elvis admired the cum pooling out of your cunt, pushing it in a bit with his fingers. He patted your ass, his breath heavy. "That'll get you an 'A', Missy." He promised, and you felt a smile tug at your lips. "Thank you, Mr. Presley." You whispered, relief washing over you. You lay against the desk, catching your breath, feeling satisfied, even if it was tainted by the shame of what you'd just done. You knew you'd have to do it again, but for now, you could rest easy. You'd earned that grade and were awfully satisfied with how.  “I think you should stay after class more often,” Elvis said, and you heard the rattling of his belt behind you. "We should do this more often." He mused and you laughed gently.

"Much, much more often"

again, i don’t rlly like how this one turned out :( my nerves are all to wack and ugh, i’ve had this one partially written for over a week but could nottt work on it but i finally finished it, i hope y’all like it more than i do <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

WOW I can't believe you opened them! I adore you! Please Tumblr lacks Krueger fanfic, can you write something NSFW enemies to lovers, where he and the reader joined Chimera at the same time and are at "war" with each other mainly because reader is an ass, she likes to annoys Krueger by constantly reminds him that she is younger (like four/five years, no more) than him and more skilled as a soldier and sniper making Krueger get on his nerves? Sorry for my wtriting, english is not my language and i'm not good at it, i hope i was clear enough and i also hope i formulated the right question without violating your requests. Thank you and good job at the flower shop!

—Ain't Giving Up My Pride

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

You have to wonder if you expected to be ass-up and face-down getting fucked in the back of a storage room today, and you have to admit, the answer is most likely a resounding negative. 

But war is always interesting.

Krueger and yourself had a little…thing…going on. Call it what you will—a rivalry, a large annoyance, whichever word better fits the state of twin crashing atoms constantly waiting to prove something to the other. To you, any real satisfaction can only be drawn by the way his shrouded head would look your way with obvious scorn—imagining a sneer to his lips as you walked past and smirked, loudly talking about your success at the firing range. 

About beating the top mark yet again. Krueger. 

“Interesting, hm?” He grunts to you now, belt jingling as you hide your burning face into your arm; pelvic bones getting repeatedly pushed into the crate. “Little winner, yes? Willing to bet she only feels good when she gets filled up by my cock.”

You open your mouth to speak, but his hands on your hips drive them backward and forward, skin smacking rapidly as your speech is reduced to garbled whines and loud moans. It was pathetic how fast he was already working you to that point—pussy spasming and legs kept open by Krueger’s hands. 

“Hm?” The man leans in close, his fully-geared chest stapling itself to your spine. “What was that?”

“F-fuck,” you blink quickly. 

He chuckles, covered face hidden from you. “That is what I—”

“Fuck better than you shoot,” you gasp, hips instinctually meeting his thrusts as your toes curl, pants at your feet, and a stain of fluids dripping down to them. The man falters, pace stuttering as you shove yourself back into him with a shiver down your vertebrae. 

His throat releases a low growl moments later, hand going to the back of your neck as you smirk. But any chuckle is lost as you’re pulled by the collar of your shirt backward, getting kept to Krueger’s front as the prodding ruthlessness of his member drives itself home again and again.

You gasp loudly, eyes snapping back and mouth releasing tight moans before a hand covers your lips, a low snarl in your scalp. 

“You always have such a mouth, Vögelchen,” he grunts, feeling the effect of your tight cunt himself as he draws closer to his finish—what you did to him was criminal; no one should make him act like this, like a heathen in the back rooms seeking a carnal release into your womb. “How do I fix this, then?” 

You pant from behind his hand, letting him play with you like a doll because, damn if this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. 

“Ah,” he replies to himself, that smooth voice right in your ear as he moves a hand down to play with your clit. You tense up, noises of pleasure heard from behind the tight press of his grip. “Yes, that’s it.” Your release snaps through you like a storm—not even a proper build-up before it shatters what little of your mind is left at this point. Not once did Krueger’s hips slow or stop, pushing you through it until you were whining like a dog, another round started just like that even as the man rides his own high, spilling into you.

The wet splatter of cum leaks to the floor as you’re back facing the crate, eyes rolling back into your head and body shaking with unchecked pleasure.  A shuddering growl is right in your ear, a heavy body rocking against your spine.

“I have to fuck it out of you.”

[hg-aneh]

SO 👏

someone mentioned my other catboy omens stuff in a few tags (thank you btw <3) and I decided I'd just dump all of it in a single post outside of the main tag

... I've spammed enough of my things on it today

*cough* Here's that post :D

(Backstory sketchy ass comics under the cut)

(Yes, that's Eve)

(Madame Tracy and Aziraphale are adoptive siblings in this :D)

CW for grooming and SA attempt committed by one (1) Lucifer on this next one.

It's nothing explicit but it's definitely heavily implied.

And ofc I left it there bc I got distracted with other things.

Sorry if the story and dialogue are wack, I'm not a writer and english ain't my native language.

This is all before Azi and Crow meet, they were supposed to have a really cool adventure with lots of feelings after this, but... yknow what happened

Also dont think for a second that Azi had it any easier, my boy was declawed and forced to act more human before he got adopted skgkd

If there's any questions (of course there are, I didn't explain shit for the sake of not making this post any longer than it already is sjgbc), I'd be pleased to answer them

I'm sad that I couldnt bring myself to do anything with them romancing around besides those two first drawings

But at least there's this

Thank you if you survived this post, have a free cookie and a lovely day 🍪

[zae-heeyyy]

Pastiche

Summary: You and Arthur escape through writing. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader Word Count: 2,345 Trigger Warning: Tuberculosis, death Tags: angst, sadness, high honor Arthur

a/n: Thanks for you kind words on Chiaroscuro. I've enjoyed writing again so much! I'm in my tragedy era. My hs english teacher's voice haunts me when I'm writing, so I spent a lot of time scrutinizing this. Didn't mean for it to be so long, but I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

pastiche: a work of art or literature that imitates the style or character of another, often as an homage or tribute.

You knew there was something special about Arthur Morgan the day you met him. Despite his best efforts to believe otherwise, he was easy on the eyes, and his dry humor combined with his strong sense of honor sealed your crush on the cowboy. Everybody else could see that he was sweet on you, too, noticing when he pulled you to sit at the fire with him or how he watched you around camp. As more time passed, you'd become mostly inseparable, taking every moment you had to sneak away together. One of your favorite places to escape to was the fields of Little Creek River in Big Valley. You'd be reading a book and glance over to find Arthur staring intently at an animal until it was out of sight. Then he'd open up his journal and sketch it.  He wasn't doing that today, though. He was staring across the field, but you could tell he was elsewhere in his mind.

"Got somethin' to say," his eyes met yours earnestly. When he told you he loved you, a laugh erupted deep from your belly. Dumbfounded, he asked, "The hell is so funny?" his own laugh betraying his attempt to be solemn. It was hilarious to you that he didn't think you already knew that and that he didn't know you absolutely felt the same.

Another day, you were lying in Arthur's lap in the grass. Just the day before, he had returned to camp with bruised knuckles and some poor fool's blood on his face—one of Strauss's clients. You longed for a life where bruised knuckles and loan sharking were distant memories.

"Where would you be if you weren't here," you'd asked, holding his hand in yours. He stroked your thumb with his and gazed over the valley like always.

"Hard to imagine." He mumbled, sounding far away.

You nodded in agreement and replied, "You're always writing or drawing in your notebook. Maybe you could've been an artist or a writer." The thought brought a soft smile to your face, and you imagined, just for a second, a life where Arthur's biggest worry was perfecting his latest masterpiece.

He huffed in dry amusement, "Probably wouldn't have known how to read if it weren't for Dutch and Hosea."

You assented again and sighed, the smile on your face growing wider.

 "Arthur Morgan: author and illustrator." You held your hands up in dramatic fashion as if envisioning the words in front of you. Then you untangled yourself from him and sat up, "You could, you know? It's not too late. Maybe a biography?"

"A story about my life, huh?" He looked at you with a dumb smile, "I think a book about dirt would be more interestin'." He bobbed his head up and down as if nodding made his thought more true. You shoved him playfully, and he raised his eyebrow at you and held out his hands questionly. "What? There's all different kinds of dirt," he started counting on his fingers." Brown dirt, red dirt, hard dirt—"

You cut him off, "I'm serious, Arthur! This life…it ain't one normal folks live." A shit-eating grin crept up his face as he fought not to make another joke at his own expense. He shoved it down and kept listening. "Sure, it's just your life to you, but other people might find it interesting, exciting, even."

He thought for a second, then put his hands in the air, mimicking you, "The Confessions of Arthur Morgan: The Detailed Life of a Gunslinger by Arthur Morgan. Sounds like a Pinkerton's wet dream."

 "I see what you mean," you trail off, fingers playing in the grass. "Could change the name. People publish under a different name all the time. There's a word for that, I think."

"Pseudonym," he responded, his accent thick. "Think it's got one of those silent letters in front." He said it so matter of factly, and it confirmed what you already knew about him: he was far more intelligent than anybody ever gave him credit for. Still, you left the idea alone and thought Arthur had, too.

Then, on another afternoon in the fields near Little Creek River, he spoke out of nowhere. "Arthur Callahan or Tacitus Kilgore?" 

"Hmm?" you asked, barely glancing up from your book.

"For the pen name," he confirmed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

From that day on, your trips to Little Creek River became writing sessions. He bought a notebook that you two would trade off, coming up with ideas for the dramatized life of the gunslinger. You'd taken some creative liberties, and the story wasn't exactly a biography anymore. It had shaped into a Western love story. Arthur Callahan, after living a bad life, met someone who made him want to be better, an angel sent to rescue the devil himself. Arthur Callahan would get the perfect ending; a normal life. It was all Arthur's idea. 

"It's not my story; it's ours," he'd told you. 

You had been daydreaming about the possibilities for your novel for some time, but the chaos of life with the gang left little room to focus on it. The sudden move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point made things worse. Somewhere in the move, the manuscript was lost or destroyed—either way, it was gone. You couldn't hold back your tears during your next trip to Big Valley. Arthur's big hands swallowed your face as his thumbs wiped your tears away.  

"Shhh, we'll rewrite it, sweetheart," he promised.

Despite Arthur's gentle nudges, you couldn't find it in you to rewrite the story. Another day, he'd invited you to ride with him, heading off to your usual spot. He'd asked once more if you were feeling up to writing again. When you rejected the idea, he shook his head, seemingly surrendering. 

"Fine! You're so damn stubborn." There was no malice in his voice, though, and his eyes twinkled a little. "Looks like I gotta take matters into my own hands." Instead of stopping the horse in the fields as usual, Arthur stopped short, cutting into nearby woods. Eventually, he halted outside of the small cabin that was Vetter's Echo and hitched the horse outside. 

"Come on," he said, helping you down. "I've got a surprise for you." You walked up the cabin's steps, and he swung the door open to a small living quarters. "It don't got a back door, and I'm pretty sure the feller living here got mauled by a bear, but it's got one of these things." He gestured to the desk in the corner of the small cabin, a typewriter sitting atop it, "I don't have the first clue about using it." So he left it for you to figure out. He'd sit on a stool beside you, reading from a notebook, and you'd type slowly at first, but as time went on, the keys felt as familiar to you as a gun trigger did to him. 

Then things started falling apart. You'd moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point, then to Shady Bell in a matter of weeks. The men went on a job to rob the bank in St. Denis, and most didn't return. You'd forgotten about the manuscript while trying to survive and spent weeks worried about Arthur and everybody else.

Then he came home to you, waterlogged but alive. You'd never felt more relieved. He was skinny and had a persistent cough, blaming it all on his rough journey. But it didn't stop him from finishing the book as promised. He'd write whenever he had a chance, and you'd go back to the little cabin in the woods, you typing and him reading.

Then he couldn't get through a page without coughing. You listened, concern etched on your face as he told you about his coughing spell and subsequent visit to the doctor in the city. Tuberculosis: practically a death sentence. After that, he'd step back when you tried to be close to him and wouldn't let you kiss him or be intimate with him. You spent a lot of time crying while he dipped his head in profound shame. 

Weeks later, he woke you up at night, gently shaking you and whispering to not alert anyone else. "C'mon, get dressed and ride with me." He was serious, his jaw set, his voice low but demanding. You didn't know what was wrong, but dread ran through your veins. You rode far away from camp, mostly in silence, your anxiety not letting you say anything. 

"You're gonna live a good life. "he finally said, breaking the silence. Your eyes stung, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I don't want to hear this right now, Arthur."

He shook his head, frustrated, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Listen to me." His tone made you flinch. He'd never taken on that tone with you, ever. "This whole thing with Dutch, it's over. You gotta run. Gotta get out and make a good life for yourself." 

You wanted to protest; you weren't going to leave him, not now. But then you saw the waiting stagecoach up ahead. Your heart dropped and shattered into a million pieces. You reached around him to pull the horse's reins, coming to a skidding stop. You hopped down and started shaking your head, frantic in your movements and words. 

"No, Arthur. No."

You wiped away the quickly falling tears as you turned, fast walking, almost running back to that godforsaken camp that was Beaver Hollow. Even in his sickness, it only took Arthur a few big steps to reach you, grabbing you by the waist and turning you to face him. And then you cursed at him, pounded your fists against his chest, and wailed into the night. He just pulled you close to him, squeezing you until you didn't fight anymore. He gave you a stack of cash, made you promise to run, and said he'd come find you after it was all over. But both of you knew, deep down, that you were setting eyes on each other for the last time. He kissed your head. You sobbed into his chest, only letting go when the impatient stagecoach driver beckoned you.

"Never could've imagined I'd know somebody as perfect for me as you." All you could choke out was, "I love you," over and over and over again. He slipped a folded letter into your hand and helped you into the coach filled with your things. He stood silently with his hat in his hands while you rode off into the night. You sobbed for as long as your body let you while the coach took you down to Copperhead Landing.

First, Tilly showed up with Jack, and then Sadie came with Abagail. But then John arrived bearing Arthur's hat and satchel with a look in his eyes so terrible that it brought you to a screaming sob. That night, when everybody had finally settled down to sleep, you slipped away, leaving a note of thanks and well wishes. You were alone then, the way you wanted it to be without Arthur.  

Eight years; it had been eight years since everything went to shit. In eight years, you worked your ass off with any odd jobs you could find. Keeping busy was how you cured your broken heart. You'd tried as hard as you could to forget about the life you'd once lived until you read a headline in the newspaper: MICAH BELL KILLED. The memories flooded back to you, and you returned to a place you hadn't visited in a while. You only kept 2 things from that time: a letter from Arthur and the manuscript you'd written with him. Forged in Fire, you called it. After all this time, you couldn't remember who came up with the name, but you remembered why. You two were like tempered metal; the more you walked through hellfire, the stronger you became.  

Then there was Arthur's letter. You'd read it only once before today.

"Things I wanted to say but did not have the courage to say aloud." was scrawled across the top of the page, followed by a list.

"Keep visiting Big Valley.

Keep writing.

Publish the book.

Watch every sunset.

Trust your gut.

Please, be happy."

You heard his voice through every word. He'd underlined the third point: publish the book. In that moment, you decided to take a leap. You wrote to a publisher and sent a copy of the manuscript. And that's all it took. Things went into a tailspin after that, and before you knew it, you were holding a hard copy of the manuscript you and Arthur had worked on together all that time ago.

You'd made an effort, then, to find Abigail and John and Jack. They were held up at a ranch, Beecher's Hope, and were married now. You caught up with the Marstons and apologized for hastily disappearing all those years ago. They were happy for you, and you for them. 

On your departure, John took your hand, "I don't talk about him much these days, but I don't think he loved anybody like he loved you." He paused for a moment and forced his eyes to meet yours. "He's buried out in Ambarino, near Donner Falls. Top of the mountain. I can take you." You declined John's offer but set out east toward Donner Falls the next day. 

You found him around noon and watched wistfully as an eagle flew from its spot on a rock behind the flowery grave. You fell to your knees, no longer able to control the tears flowing down your face. "I did it, my love," you choked through tears. It'd been a long, long time since you let yourself feel this pain—a longing to reach something impossible. You dabbed the tears away from your eyes and sat in the grass, hugging Forged in Fire to your chest. "Thought I'd read it to you," you spoke into the air. You opened the book, cracked the spine, and read "Chapter One: Heaven's Fall, Hell's Rise."

[centrally-unplanned]

Follow-up to my Fanroad Magazine archival scan post - let's look at some cute 90's anime art! Just random ones that caught my eye:

"Hey, what happened to me!?" As mentioned, this came out before End of Eva did - as such, Asuka & crew really didn't get much of an ending in the TV show. 100% how she would react to watching episode 26, props to our artist (春原てるも/Kasuhara Terumo)

There are just so many "Rei running with toast" pieces, it was clearly a combination of a meme amoung the fans and the theme for the magazine. Love how this one brought marmalade too - never compromise on taste, no matter how late you are.

(The artist's name is "actually, I'm a Shinji fan" btw lol)

I love finds like these - these toast-lugging Rei's are by people who are professional mangaka today! The first is by いちば仔牛/Ichiba Kousei, or "Marketplace Cow" - it ain't their birth name I am sure - and they are a founding member of the doujin circle UGO - which is still going strong! And our second is by (I am 80% sure on this one) うおなてれぴん/Uona Terepin, a quite-accomplished artist who adorably published their first professional work in 1997, a year after this. Their twitter feed is 50% big titty girls and 50% model tanks, absolutely based.

Hot👏Shinji👏Fucks👏, this piece is amazing. What else do I have to say? (緋月れん/Hizuki Ren - maybe, translating Japanese names with no context is hard guys -_-)

This is one of my favourite trends - so Evangelion has a lot of technobabble? And it is very frequently in English. So fans really liked recreating that aesthetic in their art. But in 1996 they didn't have access to like screengrabs from the show or scanned splatbooks on hand? Which meant they just used ~whatever English text they could find - generally newspapers at their university or library. Which means we get Toast Rei splashed on reports of stock indices in the global financial markets, and this beautiful moe-Rei/Asuka looking solemnly out over, uh, some report about housing prices and cholesterol levels? Technobabble indeed! (嶋屋みえ/Shimaya Mei, まなせ貴也/Manase Takaya)

Rei clone army! Adorable. (藤桜智美/Fujisakura Tomomi)

Okay, moving away from Eva, there is in fact a bunch of other properties in here with fanart, but these types stood out to me:

That seinen "Kids on the Street" energy that was peaking in the 90's; fully ~aesthetic. (Keiko Kuyuki)

And to end on a weird note:

One section of the magazine is just a free-for-all of thoughts, and one Yayoi Hirone decided to give us a girl caught in the middle of undressing...alongside a recipe for cooking shrimp. Which, if I am being honest, is a huge improvement over the bullshit they throw on recipes online these days. This is the future we could have had -_-

Anyway, I hope that was fun - if anyone is struck or amused by some of the art in the magazine, I would be happy to see what stood out to you!

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

[strangeaxel]

How do you draw with rebornicas artstyle?

And how did you became rebornicas artstyle?

Well... LET'S SEE ... (i'm suffering, THIS AIN'T FOR THE WEAK/J btw english isnt my first language so excuse any mistakes :c) Ill tell you some things about the style but keep in mind, i've been drawing realistic stuff for years and also been drawing cartoons for about 2-3 years when i was a teen so keep that in mind, you gotta study other things too that i can't explain on a simple tutorial soo......

Ladies, gentleman and gay autistic aliens... I present to you...

MY REBORNICA TUTORIAL... SMALL... TUTORIAL.

(I ain't no professional on this, i'm a beginner on this style yet)

i think most of us try to go for the classic era but you can also go for the first one from fnaf 1 (You also gotta use the correct Mike uniform since the one where he has his tie on it's when he's working at the day shift because Jeremy took his shift instead :3)

When i was a kid and even this year i asked myself why all Rebornica's art was so fcking pixelated and thEN... I IMPORTED THEIR ART INTO MY ART PROGRAM AND DAMN DUDE, WHAT WAS THAT TINY AAAH CANVAS?!

Also, i personally use a very soft sensitivity for my wacom, the less you press the better(?)

There's a lot of detailed tutorials on how to study art from other artist, you can search it as "master studies" too i think. OBVIOUSLY studies are something you gotta credit ALWAYS, since it's a direct copy. Use references a loooot, i have a lot of references for these guys. ALSO, i recommend to study Mike at first since he's like the base of all the other characters!

I wish i could have made more of those Do's and Don'ts but i couldn't think of a way to teach some of them in a very simple way. But the most important thing to keep in mind is to not really try to correct much of Rebornica's old anathomy mistakes if you want it to be more authentic etc. :)

Here's some practice i did today before the tutorial and some from some days ago, I been drawing in this style since august approximately :D

Hope this helps even just a little bit, this can work with any style, you gotta learn how to study anything tbh!

Note: i might continue the tutorial later (reblogging this post) with some info about the body and stuff like that but you gotta know that at least for me (and other ex mutuals) faces/heads are the hardest in this style IDK WHY 😭