#sorry for not fighting the good fight friends.

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[megamindsecretlair]

Said I Wouldn't, Part 2 - Final

Pairing: Dad!Terry Richmond x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem receiving), oral (female receiving), PIV, reader is tied up, virginity loss, mentions of Christian religious themes, breeding kink if you squint. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Babysitting for Terry had its perks. You were able to see his gorgeous ass every night before heading off to your own house next door. But you thought your life was over when Terry caught you in his bedroom. The long-awaited talk clears up the air, but like magnets, it’s not long before you find yourself at his mercy. It’s not such a bad place to be.

Word Count: 5,680k

AO3 Link | Part 1

A/N: I...refuse to apologize for this one. I am so over the moon feral for this one. Like I make myself sick. LOL. I truly hope you enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You wrung your fingers one by one as you hovered beside your front door. Terry texted you earlier in the day to tell you that Troy would be spending the night at a friend’s house. You weren’t sure what that actually meant for the talk you were supposed to have.

Was it good news? That he wanted to explore the arrangement more? Become more of a full service nanny? Because not gonna lie, you were totally here for it. Or was he still going to give you “that talk”, that said you couldn’t do this again and it wasn’t fair to Troy who looked up to you both? Was he trying to ensure that you weren’t going to cry, scream, and throw up where Troy could see? 

There were too many variables and now you regretted telling him that you wanted to speak today. You should’ve thrown on your big girl panties and talked then. Talk after you were begging to be fucked. Begging. God. That man had you begging for dick. 

You wore your virginity as a source of pride at this point. While everyone told you horror stories about their first time or were so sex crazed that they were keying men’s cars, you saw your virginity as some rebellious act. Perhaps it was a way to feel empowered by your decision as opposed to beholden to it by circumstance. In any case, it was something you chose to keep over and over again.

The truth of the matter was that people expected big girls to accept whatever gremlin limped onto their doorstep. As if you weren’t allowed to have standards. As if you weren’t supposed to love your body enough to not treat it like trash and let everyone in. The body is a temple but only for certain girls. Yours had to be a McDonald’s drive through at three am in the hood. Fuck that.

Your sandals slapped against the hardwood floor as you tapped your foot waiting for Terry’s car to pull into the driveway. The anticipation was slowly killing you, bit by bit. Questions ran through your mind and sure, you could come up with possible answers. But after being caught yesterday, it was quite clear that you were terrible in an emergency. Your flight or fight response was all fucked up. 

The familiar sound of Terry’s car rumbled closer until he pulled his truck into the driveway. You peeked out of the window and watched as he got Troy out of the car and went inside. 

You checked your phone but Terry hadn’t said anything else. You sighed and tapped your phone against your thigh. You hadn’t known what to wear to something like this. A skirt to show you were open for business? A dress so it was less obvious? Pants so that he didn’t think that was all you wanted? Decisions, decisions. 

You opted for another bodycon dress. Fuck it. It’d become your Wednesday night outfit so it may as well work today as well. This time it was a deep navy blue that lowkey made you feel like a mermaid.

The biggest decision weighing heavily on you was the fact that you were about to hand over your virginity, if Terry was open to it. Willingly too. Sure, you knew the man for close to a year now and had plenty of nights where you stayed for dinner. But this was…serious. 

Perhaps too serious. You carried your virgin card for so long and once you spent it…that was it. There was no returning it. It should frighten you. Right now, you were mostly nervous. You liked and respected Terry. Felt safe enough with him to allow him to finger you like there was no tomorrow.

Your body flushed with heat remembering how tightly his hand gripped yours. You sighed and leaned against the wall, remembering the huge bulge in his shorts as he rubbed it against your ass. The deft way his thick fingers played with your pussy as if he were stroking a kitty. 

The slam of Terry’s door tore you away from your thoughts as you watched Terry get back in his truck with Troy. He backed out of the driveway and your heart jumped in your throat. 

Was it like this for other girls? Did they have all this anticipation when they lost their virginity? After a while, you stopped asking your friends questions. Stopped wanting to know every detail because you felt creepy asking. But there weren’t exactly books you  could read up on the matter. You could watch all the porn in the world, touch yourself all you wanted, but it was different being with a man. Especially one as sexy as Terry. 

Truth be told, you just didn’t want to fuck it up. 

Your phone buzzed and you swiped it open to your conversation with Terry. 

Terry (Troy’s Dad): Dropped off Troy. Be there in 10.

You: Okay, chilling in my room. Let me know when you’re here.

Liar, liar. You were too nervous to sit, eat, or burp. You were working yourself up so you took a few deep breaths and waited for Terry to arrive. 

Ten minutes sharp, Terry’s truck pulled into the driveway. You shrieked and backed away from the door. A minute later, Terry rang your doorbell and you hopped in place. This was it. You were either about to get fucked or put down like Old Yeller. 

You walked to the front door and opened it. Terry smirked when he saw you. He wore a black polo shirt with the first button loose and black pants. The short sleeves cut into his thick muscles, veins running down his arms and his tattoos on bright display. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you said. 

He jerked his head so you closed and locked the door behind you and followed him over to his porch. Terry opened the door and allowed you to enter first. He turned on lights as he entered behind you and you walked forward, pulling your arms behind your back so he wouldn’t see how nervous you were.

You were an adult. You could handle rejection. Even though you really wanted it to be the opposite. 

“Have a seat. Want water or somethin’?” He asked. 

“Naw, I’m good,” you said. If you ate or drank anything right now, you would hurl. You made a beeline to the couch, somehow the safest spot in the house. Sitting down, you pretended that this was just another day. Right.

There was nothing routine about the way Terry watched you. His eyes didn’t miss a beat as you settled onto the couch. Terry rubbed the back of his head before he came to stand beside you.

Instead of sitting on the couch, Terry scooted in front of you and sat on the coffee table. His legs trapped yours and you stiffened, noticing that you had nowhere to run. No way to escape. He managed to cage you without you even having a clue. 

“First, I wanna apologize,” Terry said. 

You stiffened your shoulders so they wouldn’t drop with disappointment. Ah. That conversation. One you were all too familiar with so you nodded your head and kept your face neutral. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself. Not even for the likes of Terry Richmond.

“You really don’t have to,” you said. Really. You weren’t in the mood to listen to how this was all a mistake, he should’ve known better, he deeply regrets his actions…

“Stop,” Terry said. 

You lifted your eyes to his striking ones and he smirked. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I want to apologize because we should’ve talked first before I attacked you.” 

You took a deep breath. “You don’t know what I’m thinking,” you said, poking your bottom lip out. It was exactly what you were thinking and you resent the fact that you were so easy to read. “And you didn’t attack me.” 

Terry only smirked. Bastard. You wanted to get into a battle of wills to calm your racing heart and your sweaty palms. But he was too mature. And you were too in love. 

Terry leaned down and grabbed your left leg, pulling it into his lap. You gasped as he pulled off your sandal. He pulled up your dress until he exposed your calf and then he started to massage it. 

You hummed and sunk further into his couch, letting his magic fingers weave a spell into your skin. His fingers dug into your muscles and you rolled your eyes back, face scrunched with pleasure. 

“Had I known…shit, I don’t know. I had been drawn to you for a while but didn’t want to overstep,” he said.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I get it. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” 

Terry chuckled. “Only every day,” he said.

“Never thought I’d be jealous of a mirror,” you said and grinned. 

Terry pressed into your calf and it made you moan. You caught yourself and hid your face. Terry chuckled and stopped. “Don’t hide from me,” he said. 

You sighed and lowered your hands. “You’re impossible to stay cool around,” you said.

He chuckled and went back to massaging your calf. His fingers were so long and big, you watched as he kneaded your leg until you were indistinguishable from jelly. He lowered your leg and then picked up your left leg, removing your sandal, and went to work with his massage. 

“You’re impossible to forget,” he said and flicked his hazel eyes to yours. His fingers continued to turn you into an absolute puddle, your panties growing damp with each dig of his thumbs. “I look forward to seeing you when I’m on my way home. There’s days I wake up and nearly put a hole through my bed because I’m so hard.”

“Shit,” you sighed. How was this your life? How was the sexiest man in the world telling you that he was distracted by you? You, who’d rather lounge in PJ’s all day and snack than eat a proper meal?

“I meant what I said. That you drive me up the wall,” he said. 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Does…my being a virgin bother you? I’d completely understand…” 

“Doesn’t bother me at all,” he cut you off. 

You nodded. Cool. Cool. Everybody’s cool. Except you were ready to jump into the nearest volcano. “I really didn’t mean to snoop in your room. You’ve seen you, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to know more of you. Not just that you’re Troy’s dad,” you said. Your heart thumped in your throat and threatened to clog up your vocal chords. But if you were going to ask this man to knock the sonic coins out of you, then you had to be grown enough to communicate.

Terry nodded. “I get that. Find anything interesting in my room?” He asked. 

You took a deep breath. There was not a chance in hell that you were going to fess up to stealing his shirt. But the way he asked, the way he tilted his head, the permanent smirk on his lush, pink lips… Your guilt made you think he knew but you didn’t know for certain and you didn’t need another reason for him to toss you on your ass. So you shook your head. “Only confirmed my suspicions…that you’re an old ass man.”

Terry erupted into a rare, full belly laugh. His fingers danced on your calf and you giggled with him, loving the way his face transformed from a serious robot to a more open expression. “I’m an old ass man?”

You nodded your head. “Anyone who reads Clive Cussler is an old ass man, sorry. I don’t make the rules,” you said and shrugged your shoulders. 

Terry lowered your leg to the floor. He adjusted himself on the coffee table, widening his stance so that he could grip your knees and spread them. Your lips parted, watching the determined expression on his gorgeous face. 

He drew your dress further up your legs, so reminiscent of yesterday that you wondered if it was a secret turn on for him. He exposed your legs, pooling the dress at the top of your knees. Your sweaty thighs tingled and your breaths grew rapid. You didn’t know where to look. His hands or his eyes. 

“So if I’m an old man, what does that make you?” He asked. He walked his fingers across your thighs, pressing down in random spots. Sometimes he touched a tender knot and it made you moan. He got closer and closer to your pussy and then he flicked his eyes to yours. 

He paused, waiting for his answer. You took a deep breath to release that pent up anticipation. You didn’t know what came next. Only that you would cease to be unless he continued to touch you. Unless he kept going and never stopped. 

“Someone with an old man fetish,” you said. 

Terry chuckled and then continued his slow torture, sliding his hands to the hot core of you. His thumbs traced your pussy lips outside of your panties and you moaned, biting your lip. 

“I’m a gentleman but nothing about these fucking thoughts are holy,” Terry breathed. 

“If I let you off the hook for the night…ahh,” you moaned when Terry pressed into your clit. 

“It’s your first time,” he whispered.

“Pretend it’s not. I won’t break,” you whispered back. 

Terry stood up and grabbed you by the wrists to pull you up with him. He moved lightning fast, so fast you didn’t have a chance to blink before he crushed his lips to yours. You sighed, rolling with it, as his lips moved expertly over yours. Heavenly. 

God. You made your peace with being single and a virgin for a long time. Thought you would be well into your 40s until you gave in and settled. How fucking wrong you were. How could you ever go back to your existence now that you knew the taste of his lips? The feel of his hands caging your face and keeping you close? 

Terry pulled away with one last lick to your bottom lip. He rubbed his nose against yours. “Trust me, okay?” 

You nodded. “I trust you,” you promised. 

Terry pulled you by the hand to follow. Your dress dropped down to your ankles as you walked behind him back to the scene of the crime. You ought to feel some type of way, but for now, you were just turned on. Turned on, nervous as hell, excited. There were too many emotions trying to contain themselves in your body and you weren’t sure what to focus on. Your mind spun with..fuck, just about everything. Too many to name.

You focused on him. Just him. His large hand in yours, the clothes on his back, the broad sweep of his shoulders, and his short haircut. You focused on the long length of his body as he moved and that round, juicy ass you just wanted to take a bite of. If it were an apple, it’d be the one Adam and Eve risked heaven over. 

Terry pulled you into his room and then closed the door, though there was no one else there. Still, it felt more intimate to do so like he was pulling you into his lair and you loved every second of it. 

He stopped in the middle of the room and turned around to face you. “You can say no, okay? If I ever do anything you don’t like,” he said.

You smirked. “I begged you to fuck me yesterday. I think it’s safe to say there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t like,” you said.

“Almost nothing?” He asked. He stepped closer, caging your face with his hands once more. He kissed your forehead and then trailed kisses down your face until his warm lips found yours. You kissed him, licking his bottom lip. He groaned and closed what little distance there was between your bodies, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

“I’m not telling,” you said and giggled.

“Oh, it’s like that?” He asked. 

You nodded and your lips brushed against his. “Yeah, it’s like that,” you said. 

Terry grinned, showing off his enchanting smile. He turned you and pushed you towards his bed and then helped you out of your dress. He helped take off your bra and panties, teasing you as he revealed your body. 

He gripped and played with your titties and nipples, rolling them between his fingers and pinching here and there. Tingles slipped down your thighs with each swipe of his tongue on your body, teeth on your flesh, and fingers on your skin. He stepped away briefly and then returned with a crimson scarf. You giggled, it looked just like the one you lost a few months ago. 

“On the bed,” Terry commanded, his deep voice making you snap to attention. He kissed the back of your neck. You peeked over your shoulder and smiled, climbing onto the bed achingly slow. 

He slapped your ass to make you move faster and you giggled, scooting to the middle of the bed. You flipped over and Terry kneeled on the bed and waved for you to present your hands. 

“Okay?” He asked.

Was it okay? Was this man serious? You were a virgin but you weren’t crazy. Of course it was fucking okay. This was only your biggest fucking fantasy come to life. Well…maybe top 3. You did have a disturbing fantasy of wanting him to grab you by the neck and give you back shots until you screamed for mercy and he ignored you. Listen, your imagination was all you had, okay?!

“Okay,” you said and nodded. 

He made quick work of tying the scarf around your wrists in a complicated knot. He didn’t leave you much slack between your hands and you tested the knots but it held firm. “Where the hell did you even learn how to do this?” You asked.

“Marine Corps,” he said with a wink. He stepped back from the bed and then gave you a show. He gripped the ends of his shirt and took it off in one fell swoop. His abs moved and stretched, showing off all that hard work he put in the gym. Fuck, he was huge. 

His arms bulged and you grew even more wet just watching his body move. He tossed his shirt on the floor and then tilted his head while his hands went to his belt. His fingers moved quickly and soon, his belt slipped through the loops and you gasped. The things he could do to you with that belt….

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” you said.

Terry’s smirk curved his lips as he unzipped his pants and shoved it and his briefs off of his narrow hips. His dick bobbed as he moved, a veritable one-eyed monster slapping against his inner thigh. His balls hung heavy, huge, swinging as he stepped out of one pant leg and then the other. 

Your mouth dropped open as you stared…and stared. What the hell were you thinking?! Your first time and you had to find the biggest, largest, most humongous dick to take? 

“It’ll fit,” Terry said, not bothering to hide his amusement at your expression. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause…damn,” you said. 

“Want to back out?” 

“No, no, no, no. I…you have a very big dick, sir,” you said. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it. You knew a lot about anatomy but apparently not enough. This had to be like those BBC porno videos you sometimes took a gander at. It always seemed like the men were going to break their partners in half. Other times, the women took all that big dick and you were always left wondering how in the world. 

You were about to find out. 

Terry chuckled and then kneeled onto the bed, climbing on until he was able to plant himself between your legs. He hummed and tilted his head, assessing the wet state of you, as he looked between your pussy and your face.

This was the closest you ever allowed a man and you expected to tense up. Shut down. Close off. But you just wanted more. You wanted him. 

“If I do my job correctly, you won’t worry about that,” he said.

You took a deep breath as a fresh wave of desire passed over your skin. Fuck. He was killing you. And he hadn’t even done anything yet. “Big words,” you said, unable to resist.

Terry leaned onto his elbows and then got comfortable. You watched every inch of his body move into position. Since he was on his stomach, you got to see the expanse of his back and the curve of his ass. He lifted one leg on the bed and let his other leg stretch out behind him. 

Fuck. 

Terry gripped your thighs and pushed them further apart. You cried out, but Terry only pushed more until you were fully bare. You did clean up your pubic hair, but still…uneasiness creeped in. Did you…smell right for him? Should you have cleaned up more? 

Terry’s thumbs pushed into your inner thighs as he brought his face closer to your pussy. He took a deep breath and then sighed with a deep moan. His eyes were trained on yours as he opened his mouth and let his tongue prove you wrong.

The rush of warmth from his breath dueled with your cooling essence and you jerked as his tongue pushed through your pussy lips. His tongue searched for your clit and when he found it, he teased the little nub out from hiding.

“Oh…fuck…” you moaned. No wonder women wanted that. Fuck. You weren’t going to be able to live without it. You’d dream about this. Wake up in a cold sweat, body aching to be ate out just like this. 

Terry’s perfect hazel eyes finally closed as he moaned and feasted you with abandon. He ate sloppily, messily, the slurp and suckling near echoing in the room. Your body tingled and jerked as licked and licked. 

“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” you said. You couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop moaning. You see now why he had to tie your hands because you were ready to push his damn head away. He was too good at this. Not that you really had anything to compare it too, but fuck, you would never allow some mediocre man between your legs. 

It had to be Terry. It had to always be Terry. He moaned and his shoulders dipped. The bed jerked and you looked down to see him practically grinding into the bed. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you said.

Terry moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good,” he said between your legs. He flattened his tongue against your pussy and dragged it from entrance to clit and back again. You closed your eyes and rolled your hips. 

Terry’s hands on your thighs increased pressure, holding you still, while he devoured your pussy. Pools of your desire leaked from your needy hole and your fingers dug into the scarf. Your finger caught on something but you were too far gone to pay attention.

Not when his mouth was glued to your pussy. Not while his tongue flicked against your clit. Your pussy throbbed in time with your heartbeat as he used that masterful tongue to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

Your belly flipped and your moans turned to pathetic stutters as he locked in, finding a rhythm that had you ready to sing church hymns. “Terry, fuck, Terry, please,” you begged. He had to slow down. He had to ease up. 

Terry didn’t say a word. He just growled and kept going, massaging his thumbs into your thighs. He leaned back to slurp and swallow and then he latched right back on. 

“Fuck!” You moaned. You threw your head back and came on his tongue, thighs shaking. This was infinitely more powerful than anything you managed to achieve on your own. It was like the clouds breaking apart and seeing heaven for a brief moment. Enough to kiss the pearly gates before you were snatched back by Terry continuing to lick you while you came back down.

Your legs were weak and spent as he slowed his licks. Your fingers tore at the scarf even though there was no way to escape. No way to run. Terry moaned one last time before finally letting go of your poor, abused clit. It throbbed as if it missed him just that fast. 

A spit chain still connected his mouth to your pussy and you watched as he licked his glistening lips. He used the back of his hand to wipe the rest of it away, plus whatever spilled to his chin. Your head flopped back onto the bed. “Fuck.”

Terry chuckled. “No more shit to talk?” He asked, out of breath. 

Your fingers still played with the scarf as you looked towards the ceiling. Part of his headboard was in view but hell, your mind was still back in heaven. And he wanted you to answer? Well, you weren’t one to back down. So you took a few shuddering breaths. 

“I can’t even try right now, to be honest,” you said. You had a laundry list of shit you could talk about to diffuse the situation. Jokes you could pull from your back pocket. But you were too damn spent. 

Terry got off of the bed and then circled around to his nightstand. He withdrew a fresh box of condoms and you dazedly watched him. He cast his eyes towards you. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he murmured. 

You giggled. “I mean, I’m still jealous of your mirror,” you said.

Terry chuckled while he grabbed a condom and went to work opening the package. You lazily fiddled with the scarf, not wanting him to see how nervous you were. Part of him was right though. He ate you out so well, you weren’t even scared of that monster tapping against his thigh. 

Terry climbed back on the bed once he had the condom fully on his erect dick. You watched him as your finger caught on something jagged and hard. You brought the scarf to look at and noticed the same burn pattern that had been on your scarf. The same scarf you lost…

Terry climbed further onto the bed, grabbing your legs to pull you into position. He placed your legs around his hips and then lined himself up, getting the condom wet with your juices.

“Terry…” you said, looking between the scarf, his hands, and that dick.

“Hm?” He asked. 

“Is this my scarf?” You asked.

Terry cocked his head and a smirk slowly spread across his lips. “You left it once and I couldn’t find it in me to give it back. I figured it was only fair. I know you took my shirt,” he said.

“Wha-”

Terry pushed in just as you were about to ask your question. He managed to slip in way further than you were expecting and your belly caved in, trying to get used to him. To his size. To the delicious, burning stretch. Like yes, it fucking hurt. But not as much as you thought it would. 

You moved your hands against his chest, pushing at him, but he held still, no longer moving. “You have to breathe,” he said. 

You forgot how to breathe. Your lungs no longer worked. There was a dick inside you. Terry’s dick was inside you. And fuck…you lied earlier. This was heaven. It was a little hotter than you imagined, but you could forgive the temperature as long as he stayed inside you like this. 

Terry called your name and leaned down until his stormy oceanic eyes swam into view. “Breathe. I’m not gon’ tell you again.”

You nodded and took a shallow breath. You took a few more until you were able to take a full one and then another. Your thighs shook around his hips. 

“Talk to me,” he commanded. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Keep going. Please, fucking move,” you said. 

Terry leaned down into a push up and pressed his lips to yours. He withdrew and then pushed slowly back into you, working his way inside. Fuck. He was right, he did fit. But only just. 

His kisses were nice distractions from the slight burn and pain, but it was more because you were still tense and less because he was doing anything wrong. He just felt too damn good. 

“Fuck,” Terry moaned, breaking away from kissing you. He dropped his sweaty forehead to your shoulder as he worked himself in further, deeper, stretching you to the point of no return. 

You shivered as you moaned. There was no way you could walk away from this. No way you could return to normal. Not after he slapped those heavy balls against your ass and buried deep down to the hilt. It was like every stroke claimed a piece of your soul. Every moan tied your body to his. 

“T-Terry,” you said, a bite of panic reaching your own ears. It seemed way too intense. You wanted to ask if it was normal. You weren’t going to be that girl. Like you were going to obsess over him simply because he was your first. You knew you would never forget this. But with the way you were feeling…

“This pussy is mine,” Terry growled and then he bit your shoulder. 

You cried out and jerked, tears springing to your eyes as he was able to move more freely. Slip more easily. Leave your entrance completely, leave you feeling downright empty, and then he’d slam right back into the hilt. 

Tears spilled down the sides of your face, right down to the bed beneath your head. You moaned as your pussy throbbed on his dick.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, increasing his strokes. 

You throbbed again and again and listened as Terry’s moans turned wild, haphazard, and his strokes grew less precise. 

“Mine. Mine,” he chanted, low under his breath and some type of demon seemed to take hold. He slammed his hips into yours. You wanted to touch him. Claw at him. The only thing you could do was grip his hips with your thighs and welcome him in. Accept him in a place no one had been allowed in before. 

“Tell me it’s mine,” he said. He leaned up and kissed you sloppily, teeth clashing against each other as he stroked deep. He moved his lips to your jaw, to your neck, and then to the top of your chest.

Your belly flipped as if he were literally pulling the orgasm from whatever deep well he managed to find. Your moans increased, high pitched, and near screaming. 

“It’s yours,” you breathed. “Fuck, it’s all yours. It’s only yours. It’s fucking yours!” You screamed as you fell apart on his dick. 

You cried and whimpered, body shaking from another powerful orgasm. Like it was the final seal tying you two together. Surely, that wasn’t normal? 

Fuck normal. You were all his. “Mine,” you whispered. 

Terry cupped your cheek and pressed his forehead to yours. “Yours,” he said and then groaned, stroking a few more times before he cursed as he came. His dick throbbed and you felt the warm heat of him inside but the condom still separated you two.

You wondered what it would be like to be fully claimed. To have no barrier between you. Nothing to keep you apart as he bathed your insides with his hot, thick cum. You wanted it where it belonged. Buried deep inside you. Pregnancy be damned. You wanted it all. 

Terry groaned as he finished and he huffed, leaning his weight off of you so he didn’t crush you to pieces. 

You were both sweaty, gross messes. You looked at Terry and he smiled at you. “Okay?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m probably not going to walk for the next week…or two. But yes, I’m okay,” you said. 

He chuckled. He slowly withdrew from you and you groaned, instantly feeling sore and empty as he left you. Now you knew why you always waited. Because fuck. If it wasn’t like that you would have never been satisfied. Never knew how intense it could be. 

“And I meant that shit too,” Terry said, climbing off of the bed to dispose of the condom. “You’re mine. I can’t explain it. But if that scares you…”

“It doesn’t,” you rushed to say. It was intense and scary in a way you hadn’t prepared for, but he didn’t scare you. Belonging to him didn’t scare you. It was perhaps why every interaction felt so charged with him. There was a pressure being around him this past year, like an overfilled cup that could spill over at any moment. 

“You’re mine.”

Terry grinned and left the room, returning with a warm washcloth. “Oh!” You gasped as the warm cloth soothed some of the ache between your legs.

“C’mon. We’ll take a bath. It’ll help,” he said. He untied your scarf from your hands and rubbed circulation back into it. It still tripped you out that he kept it. 

He helped you to the bath and he ran the water while you talked about nothing really. Just this feeling now that the bubble popped. As if the universe itself had been trying to push you two together and you finally listened. 

As you took the bath with him, you discussed how you would keep it quiet for now. Let Terry divorce his wife, let Troy get used to the idea of you two dating, let you get your degree. 

It was all very adult. All very mature. But with his thickening dick swelling against your ass, you were anything but mature as you enjoyed each other over and over again. After all, you belonged to each other now. Time was no longer a factor to you. 

The end.

WHEW. I'll see myself out. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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[star-cats]

I was gonna put this in the tags but it was too long. There were several Incidents. I was mostly a good quiet kid but I got in trouble for the weirdest things. Mostly in elementary school.

It was the last day of first grade. My 2 friends and I were pretending to be cats which we did a lot for some reason. Friend 1 said her and I should pretend to get in a cat fight. Ok sure. So we were hissing at each other and flailing our hands around. (Friend 2 was just kinda standing there watching us.) I accidentally hit Friend 1 with my hand and left a small scratch on her skin. Friend 1 immediately started crying and went to the teacher. She said "[Birthname] scratched me on purpose!" and my heart sank. The teacher started yelling at me and I kept saying it was an accident and that I was sorry. But the teacher just kept yelling at me. She said if it wasn't the last day of school she would have suspended me. Then Friend 2 told the teacher that she saw the whole thing happen and it really was an accident. The teacher believed Friend 2 and thanked her for telling the truth. The teacher never apologized to me though. The situation was really odd because I never got in trouble with that teacher before and she was acting like I was horrible. "Friend" 1 hated me for the rest of elementary school. Ironically we were in the same class in 2nd grade and she bullied me that year. I tried to tell my 2nd grade teacher who didn't do anything to stop it. "Friend" 1 found out and called me a tattletale.

2nd grade: There were a couple of things actually. My 2nd grade teacher seemed to hate me because I was bad at math, so she got mad at me a lot. She was having us memorize our times tables and would give us multiplication worksheets that we had to finish in like 5 minutes. I wrote really slowly so I kept failing even though I knew the answers. I got into many arguments about this with the teacher, who concluded I just wasn't trying hard enough. She punished me by not letting me read in class, even during reading time. We were supposed to read like 2 books a week I think and the teacher was somehow shocked when I couldn't do that.

Later, this teacher thought I wasn't paying attention in class so she sat this girl next to me who was bullying me and told the bully to help me pay attention. The bully did this by hitting me with pencils and saying "pay attention!" I told the teacher about this but she didn't believe me.

I was sitting in the playground one day and was bored. There was a pile of small pebbles near me. I went to this empty dirt patch and tossed the pebbles into the dirt one at a time. The bully saw this and told the teacher I was "throwing boulders" and I got in trouble for this. My mom had to write a long letter to the teacher saying she explained that I shouldn't throw things and that I wouldn't do it again, and we both signed it.

Middle School: We had to wear uniforms and were supposed to tuck in our shirts. I got yelled at a few times for forgetting to tuck in my shirt.

I didn't personally get in trouble for this but some colors weren't allowed to be worn because they were "gang colors". A girl's backpack was confiscated because it was orange. My older sister wasn't allowed to wear a pink dress to a school dance. My mom asked the school how pink was a gang color and they said it was a shade of red, a common gang color.

High School: I was late to first period a lot because my school had a strict policy about it. The teachers were told to lock the door at exactly 7:35 am and if you were even a minute late you had to go to the cafeteria for in school detention. We had to sit there in silence for 15 minutes before going back to class. One time the staff member supervising this made us write a paragraph about why were were late. She looked at mine and said "That’s not a vaild reason to be late." and I just looked at her confused. I wrote why I was late, I'm not sure what she was expecting. I got detention after school once for being late too many times even though I was never more than 5 minutes late.

what's the most demented thing you guys got in trouble for in school mine was when an english boy in my class made fun of my name and called my mum a (derogatory word for irish travellers) so i told him my ira uncle was in town and was coming to blow him up after school

[itadorey]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

[rhyrhy]

Happy accident’s

Butch Abby! draft

This is a silly draft, based on this tweet! (But make it Abby)

Mlist

The bass-heavy thrum of music pulses through the dimly lit bar, weaving between the laughter and faint chitchat of the crowd. This place is packed, you thought. Between the neon lights reflecting off half-empty glasses and slightly sticky tabletops, it was kind of cozy.

Even if the air smells like spilled liquor, a clatter of mixed perfumes, and the wafting bite of cigarette smoke from the patio. You sighed deeply knowing you’d have to rewash your hair to get the smells stuck once you returned home. 

At one corner of the bar, a group of femmes huddle close. Among them, you adjust the straps of your fishnet stockings beneath your shorts, sipping a vodka cranberry. Though your eyes kept flickering towards the pool table. You inconspicuously pretended to roll your neck to get a better look at the figure of your attention.

“Oh, she’s pretty…” you thought, scanning over what you could see from your seat. Still trying to be subtle and not stare like a weirdo.

toward the pool table, where a tall, broad-shouldered butch in a fitted tank top and cargo pants leans against the edge, laughing with her small pack of friends. You watched as her arm flexed slightly to adjust her grip on the cue stick. Slightly lowering her body to get a good shot, she looks so focused…cute.

Once you realized how long you had been staring You quickly turned back to your friends, pretending your gaze wasn't lingering. Mentally slapping yourself.

“Ooo, who are you looking at?” One of your friends says, trying to follow your now abandoned gaze.

“What? Pfft, no one.” Yeah, that was totally convincing. Not.

You earned a few laughs at the obvious lie, going back to your previous conversation. You, feeling a little embarrassed for looking so hard, kept your gaze forward. Doing your best to be engaged in the conversation in front of you.

When suddenly, while sitting, your fishnets brush against warm skin and a rough texture, pulling you backwards a little.

Snag

Abby halts mid-step, confusion flashing across her face as she tries to move, but something tugs against her thigh. 

"What the—" you say, a little startled from the sudden pull, grabbing the end of the table to stabilize yourself so you didn’t hit the floor. 

She turns, and that's when she sees it: your fishnets are hooked onto her carabiner. She glances down at the sudden resistance and then back up, amusement flickering across her face. How silly.

"Oh," Abby says, fighting back a grin.

You immediately move to free it, but she beats you to it, insisting apologetically. 

"Oh—hold on, I got it." 

Her hands are rough, but surprisingly gentle as she tries to work the fabric loose. You feel your cheeks burn, her fingers lingering a moment too long over the frayed edge of the hole in your fishnets. The smell of her soap filling your senses.

"Sorry about that." Abby murmurs, finally untangling your fishnets from her belt.

When she fully stood in front of you, you couldn’t help but scan over her a little more before replying. 

“No worries.” A small smile and wave of your hand followed. You spot another small grin on the woman in front of you as she leans against the bar, seemingly eyeing your fishnets. 

"…Those are cute, by the way," she says, a hint of approval in her voice. She motions towards your shorts and the exposed length of thigh underneath.

"They…look good on you."

“Yeah? Thank you. I’d say the same, but your outfit was just attacking me,” you joked, feeling a bit more confident than before. This wasn't so bad.

She grinned and looked down at her carabiner and pants. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault your fishnets have a thing for my gear,” she replies, followed by a huffed laugh.

“But, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

————

Yeah it’s a small obsession atp, I have no shame.

[thoughtfultyrantlove]

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. [part of this fic]

ever since the two of you returned from the gion matsuri—with a new love bloomed in an indian summer—gojo satoru has become the talk of your town.

who's that handsome man patrolling around the corner?

i swear, my lady, i just want to meet with him for—uh—some fighting sessions... yes! that's it.

(...)

sister, any chance you can set me up with him?

(you almost yelled at the poor girl before nana dragged you back into the home.)

yes, you get it; handsome face drinking in every ounce of sunlight, the rippled body hiding underneath his haori that leaves nothing to imagination. combined with the softest of smiles—a dazzling diamond; most expensive of them all in the whole of the bazaar—yes, you know.

it's satoru, what did you expect?

and it makes you feel all the more worse.

beacuse there's not a single day gone by where satoru doesn't remind you of how you meant to him, that all of which that constitutes him—everything that is gojo satoru— already had your name engraved on them, signed yours the moment he caught you peeking from behind those excuse of a blinds.

(he would write it himself if you ever asked him to.)

everything, absolutely everything: his belongings? all yours, sweetness. miss him? a whisper of your longing and be ready to be carried back to your quaters as he pays no mind to the ever growing stack of his tasks.

but most importantly, his love? only for you, darling, only for you.

(a heavy breath whispered between flashes of pleasure during moonless nights as he craddles you close to his heart.)

then why?

the question lingers; a new friend you don't know how to greet.

why does your chest feel so tight all of a sudden? it asks, but you don't have any answer.

hidden away from the fronts of your minka ignoring an agitated feeling pricking at your nerves, you stand in your courtyard—the usual whirlwind of sakura petals and brine water swirling around you; silently watching the scene unfolding—with your kitty in your hands. and satoru... well, he certainly looks like he's over the moon.

smushed in a horde of females—teens just returning from the school with a bunch of middle aged aunties who can't help but froth at the sight of a much younger man; you don't mind them, that much. but the much prettier and much younger faces in the crowd stand apart, almost glowing.

sakura paints their cheeks while long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly as satoru laughs—and you almost do too. it's overbearing: the obnoxiously high giggles and whatnot. can't they just stop? it's so painfully obvious at this point.

though your eye almost bulges out, the moment one of their hands run across his biceps, feeling and squeezing, and—

shriek!

your cat yells loudly, immediately fleeing from your not so safe embrace. (sorry, yumi!) its loud noises reach the group just outside your courtyard—your eyes meets satoru's.

you look away, and he smiles, cerulean eyes hypotized by you and only you.

satoru immediately excuses himself—loud exasperated sighs following his leave.

good riddance.

“how are you, my love?”

ridiculously broad frame settles in front of you, wood creaks, and birds fly. satoru smiles at you, pearly whites gimmering ever so gently—the sincere one reserved just for you.

even though nectar fills in your mouth, your lips remain shut, moulded into a thin line—not giving him the pleasure of hearing you speak.

(but it's not his fault.)

satoru blinks—confusion seeping into his handome features—as he leans forward, head supported by his palms. he repeats: “how are you?”

he's only met with a loud huff, and a whine almost escapes his throat. your eyes move from the leaves decorating the bushes, to the koi dancing in the pond all the way to the honey dipped sky; anywhere except his awaiting ones—depraving him of yet another thing he loved about you.

“what's the matter, darling?” a soothing reassurance guided by his gentle caress on your knuckles as he takes your delicate hands in his scarred ones; you almost give in.

almost.

“oh?” lacking breath as something growls inside you, it's the only thing you can manage amidst the spiraling of your rationale—a thirst in your throat that can't be quenched even with the ambrosia itself, “why don't you ask yourself that?”

you exclaim, dazed eyes flickering between the front gates before fleeing back to the falling pink petals.

so that's what it's about.

satoru smirks—a little curve arcing his lips—enough to crack through your stubborn walls. you watch from your peripheral as he glances back at the minka's gate—yes, some of the ladies are still here, squealing in joy as satoru waves at them.

this bastard—

and on cue, an unknown force pulls on you, and you crash against him—softness trampling under his sturdy frame. shock paints your face as you turn to look at him. he's still smirking—a teasing glint shining in his eyes.

“satoru!” you gasp out as large hands travel under your robe, hot skin picking up underneath his naturally icy palms. “w—what are you doing—”

silenced.

effectively so by the push of his soft lips on yours. satoru urges you to kiss him back, a gentle pinch on your back finalized with the tugging on your bottom lips, and you do. your mouth agape as he explores your caravans—desperately licking all over your palate—painting something of an apology you understand immediately.

oh satoru...

you whisper his name, spit-slicked lips curling against his, and he whispers yours back before his claim yours again—sucking with such reverence that even the sakura petals shy away from the two of you.

long forgetten are the ladies from before—you don't know when they ran away, and you don't care at all because the little itch in the back of your head is soothed at last.

curses satoru, curses.

a/n→ i need him so bad...

[quartz-kilsviken]

Written in the Runes

Chapter 5

➸ Synopsis: Ekko, your mischievous yet endearing local troublemaker, trails a wealthy academy student from the topside. When you end up with the student’s satchel, you find a notebook filled with intriguing magical research. Unable to resist, you embark on a quest to uncover the secrets of this mysterious scholar.

➸Pairing: JayVik x Reader

➸Chapter Word Count: 1,907

➸Tags: slow burn, yearning, eventual smut, non canon compliant, future angst

➸Notes: Just one more short chapter, and then the real adventure at the Academy begins. Oh, my beloved Ekko and Benzo—how I hope nothing bad happens to them. ╭(๑¯д¯๑)╮

➸Previous Chapter: Pt.4

➸ Next Chapter: Pt.6

So much has changed in a single night that part of you has forgotten the world is still turning. Jayce and Viktor left after the presentation with Heimerdinger to search for an available lab space at the academy. Kahl is probably down at the docks, tinkering with his ship, grumbling about whatever’s got him worked up today. The enforcers are busy harassing Undercity civilians, and those civilians—well, two of them are currently squabbling in front of Benzo’s shop. From the rooftop of the neighboring building, you can’t make out what they’re fighting about, but one of them definitely has a broken nose now. You could slip by, but what if one of them turns on you, pulling you into their mess? No, that’s not why you’re stalling. The real reason is that, once you step inside, you’ll be interrogated, and you can’t think of a single thing to say that won’t make you sound insane. ‘Sorry I disappeared, Benzo. I ran off with a couple of scientists, broke into the academy, and used illegal tech to harness magic.’ Or maybe it’s not that you’re afraid he won’t believe you—it’s that you’re terrified he will. And then, inevitably, you’d have to tell him you’re leaving.

On the walk over, your mind ran through every possible outcome—anger, disappointment, dread. But the one that really haunts you is the fear of him being proud. You picture yourself coming back five months from now, admitting you’ve failed. That you weren’t good enough. That you’re nothing like your mother. That you’ll never be as certain or fearless as she was.

Your first day with Benzo is a blur. The tears in your eyes had clouded everything. He hadn’t been angry with you for crying, or for lashing out at him and the rest of the world. He just let you cry until you’d worn yourself out, until all you could do was stare blankly at the wall. Would he let you do that again?

"Where have you been?" The voice startles you, and you almost lose your balance, nearly falling over the edge. You want to be angry at the close call, but as soon as you spin around, you see Ekko. Hands on his hips, foot tapping, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. You bite your lip to keep from laughing—it’ll only make him more frustrated. His eyebrows shoot up, silently telling you to answer, and fast.

"Visited your friend's crime scene." You grip his head and make him turn around. "Come on, let’s get inside, and I’ll tell you the whole story. Promise it’s a good one." He perks up at that, hopping down the building, into the shop.

You follow him, and as he bursts through the door, he yells, "I found her!"

Okay, so your guess was right—Benzo looks furious. You fight the impulse to bolt, but Ekko steps in front of you, blocking the door. With a resigned sigh, you trudge toward the counter and jump to sit on top.

He’s still silent, eyes narrowed. You know you’ll have to start talking first. "It’s a great story," you offer, trying to ease the tension.

It doesn’t work. "I don’t care if you were out saving the world, we thought you were dead. Or rotting away in Stillwater."

"It’s..." Yeah, you can’t argue with that. "I wanted to come back sooner, but the council wouldn’t let us leave."

Okay, so we’ve skipped disappointment and gone straight into dread. You’d better wrap this up before he drops dead from shock. "Nothing bad happened, I swear," you rush out, trying to calm him. You dig through your bag, pull out Jayce’s notebook, and hand it to Benzo. Ekko jumps onto the counter beside you, leaning in to get a look. The moment he sees the notebook, his eyes narrow at you as if saying, ‘You swore you wouldn’t tell him.’ You gently squeeze Ekko’s shoulder, silently begging him to calm down.

Benzo flips through the notebook, brow furrowed. You see him processing, so you help him along. "The academy guy left this behind. It’s his research."

"What does some topside boy have to do with you disappearing all night?" Benzo’s voice is sharper than you expected.

You scramble for the right words. "I… uh, went to find him. Thought he should get his research back."

"Mhm." Benzo raises an eyebrow. "You thought he should get it back… covered in your writing?"

"Yeah, I thought... well, I thought I could help. And I was right! Me, him, and another scientist from the academy figured out how to use it." The image of the two of them floating flashes in your mind, and you can feel your cheeks heating up without meaning to. You quickly push forward, desperate to move on—the last thing you want is for them to ask more about the pair. If Ekko notices your obvious interest, he’d never stop teasing you. Snatching the notebook back, you flip to the page you want and angle it so both Ekko and Benzo can see. "Look! He figured out how to harness magic with these crystals. They built a machine to stabilize them."

You can't help yourself; you're practically narrating your adventure. "So, after all that, we figured it out, but the kids blew up the lab, and all of his equipment was stuck at the academy. So Viktor—uh, the dean’s assistant—well, not really an assistant anymore…" Benzo gives you a look that silently says, get to the point. "Anyway, he had the keys to Heimerdinger’s lab, so we..." You trail off, realizing what you're about to say. The silence fills the gap.

"YOU BROKE INTO THE ACADEMY?" Ekko explodes, eyes wide with excitement, practically vibrating in place.

"Well… technically, yes, but—Counselor Medarda caught us before we could even get inside and kinda gave us permission. Sort of." Benzo opens his mouth to protest, but you keep going. "And it worked! They kept us there all night and had us present to the council. That’s why I couldn’t come home. But—they’re letting us develop the tech now."

Benzo stares at the notebook, processing everything. You give him a moment to digest, but the silence feels heavy, like you’re about to lose your nerve. You reach into your pocket and slowly place the key on the table.

Benzo’s fingers touch the cool metal, and finally, he meets your eyes. And there it is: pride. The part you were most afraid of, but right now, in this moment, it fills you with a warmth so strong that it overshadows everything else.

You hop off the counter and slowly peel off your cloak, revealing your uniform. “Uh, they want me to take a few classes.”

Ekko eyes your outfit, doing a quick 180 before stopping in front of you. “Want me… to adjust your uniform? It’s so... white.”

You laugh, surprised that of all things, this is what caught his attention. The academy would never approve of an ‘Ekko version’ but you can’t bring yourself to refuse him.

“Go wild,” you say, tossing your stolen satchel at him. Without missing a beat, he dashes off into his room, leaving you alone with Benzo. For some reason, you believe Jayce won’t mind if you hold on to this piece of your beginning together.

The silence between you and Benzo feels heavy, and his unreadable expression makes it worse. “Guess Ekko’s going to be stuck with dock runs now, huh?”

You absentmindedly pick at something on the counter, avoiding his gaze. “They want us to start immediately.” You study the key in your hand like it holds some hidden significance. “I’ve got a room at the academy now, but… I don’t know.” You can’t help but glance toward the back door, your chest tight with the sense that you’re betraying them.

“None of that,” Benzo interrupts, his voice cutting through the tension. “Look at me.”

You do, though the moment your eyes meet his, you feel a tightness in your throat, fighting the urge to look away.

“He’ll be fine,” Benzo says quietly, his voice calm, like he already knows it’s true. He stands and starts rummaging behind the counter, trying to keep busy. “And you,” he adds, not looking up, “you’ll be fine, too. Actually, you’re going to be great. It’s everything she wanted for you. And knowing how stubborn your mom was, I’m betting she figured out a way to make sure it happened—even from the other side.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the tightness in your chest easing just a little.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. You’re not rid of me completely. I’ll still come back and check in on that little troublemaker of yours.”

Benzo snorts and drops a heavy bag of coins in front of you.

“Benzo…”

“I owe you for your last run,” he says, matter-of-fact, as if it’s nothing.

You eye the bag, raising an eyebrow.

“This is enough for five runs.”

He gives a half grin. “Told ya—you’re robbing me blind, little lady.” Then his smile softens, and his voice shifts, like he’s giving you something important. “But seriously, take it. Use it for you. Don’t save it for some disaster or send it back to Ekko. It’s yours.”

You stare at the bag for a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. It’s not just the money—it’s his way of telling you to take care of yourself for once.

With a sigh, you swing your legs off the counter and pull him into a hug. He doesn’t stiffen for once, just wraps his arms around you, strong and warm. You hold on a little longer before pulling away. “Thanks, Benzo.”

Packing is quick. You don’t have much, but the paintings? Those are harder. You handle each one like it’s a piece of your past you can’t leave behind. You could leave them here—Benzo would keep them safe—but the thought of leaving them behind feels wrong. One by one, you tuck them into your bag, feeling their weight in your hands, like you’re holding onto pieces of yourself.

Just as you finish, the door creaks open.

Ekko steps inside, his grin already wide. You don’t even need to ask—he’s holding something behind his back.

He places the satchel in your hands and pulls out two bottles of paint. Your eyes flick over the splatters of color, his art is covering most of the brown leather, except for one spot. Without hesitation, he sits cross-legged on the floor, like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

You watch him as he carefully dips the brush into the paint and applies it to your hand. The strokes are deliberate, each one marking the moment.

“I’m leaving my address with Benzo. I expect letters—don’t care if it’s just scribbles from you and Powder. And don’t get into more trouble. The old man’s already grey enough.” You laugh, but it catches in your throat, and you swallow it down.

“You worry too much. You’re the one turning grey, you know.” Ekko chuckles softly, but his focus stays on the brush, each stroke slow and thoughtful. He finishes painting his own hand and then places both of your hands over the satchel, pressing your palms onto the leather.

The feel of the paint on your skin is warm, grounding, like you’re both leaving something behind—a mark, a memory, something that will stay with you no matter what happens next.

[enriquemzn262]

I remember an old mutual of mine and former friend who went by Based-Heisenberg, he helped me greatly during the worst years of my life in Venezuela, and really got me into loving American gun culture around the time the community was really big in Tumblr, not to mention the anarco-capitalist movement which I understood and respected, but was never really truly onboard with.

But when the pandemic began, right after I finally left Venezuela for good, all the weird shit related to those dark days started happening, and among the most annoying was the whole mask mandates, which I personally abided to and really took seriously, but which nevertheless hoped would end quickly.

Well, he went for the camp of “mask don’t work”, which always seemed to me came more from his fundamental beliefs about how everything government was bad, not to mention around the time there was the whole “trust the science bro” vs “vaccines are dangerous and we’re not getting told that” fighting that made internet debates about the pandemic pissing contests between the most annoying people.

So he started to publicly show his disdain for them, how they were useless, and how they were a tool to keep us locked and obedient, meanwhile I was trying to get my shit together in Colombia while having to deal with the annoyance of masks and life with social distancing, which were just that, annoying, but not really something that took great effort to do, just as long as I carried a backpack around with a bag of masks inside, which I did, and didn’t stick to people while in public it was a simple thing to do.

So, I got annoyed, I believe I tried to debate the topic publicly with him a couple of times, but neither of us would budge. Then one day, after he made a particularly smug reply to one of those crybaby callout posts about how you were basically Hitler for not wearing a mask, I very stupidly and without a clear reason, decided to send him some anon hate, going for an insult about his weight because idiot me thought that was the best possible reply imaginable.

Of fucking course he immediately knew it was me, dude knew how to track anon ask’s IPs, and who else would be sending him hate in near perfect English from good old Barranquilla, Colombia? This fucking idiot of course, so he answered the post and called me on my bullshit, basically showing how much of an hypocrite I was, which was very true, since I was always against petty name calling when dealing with the mask shit.

And that’s how I killed a friendship that lasted a good few years, not to mention made a fool of myself with our mutuals, some of whom never saw me in the same light again, and while I half-heartedly apologized, not to mention recognized his actions in helping me during my worst years in Venezuela, I still ended up losing contact with him, and man, even though that happened years ago, it still stings.

Sorry man, I really, really wasn’t thinking straight in those days, I don’t think anyone did really, if you’re still in this accursed site, thank you for everything, and hope you’re doing well in that cool job of yours you got shortly after the pandemic began to subside.

This post was brought by: A moment of absolute Vietnam-style cringe after recalling that day brought about while doing the dishes.

[gnohomotho-blog]

Just a game (part 2) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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Pairing: Hwang In-ho / The Frontman x fem!reader

Summary: We're getting there, folks. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) Mostly fluff, need, imagination, fantasy, slow burn. Focus on the f!reader, because you deserve nice things. She's home, receiving odd gifts, some sweet, some...quite the not sweet, the game and plot and trouser legs thicken (I'm so sorry, it's literally 2 a.m. here). In-ho definitely isn't obsessing over you, hatching elaborate plans, thinking of you so hard he'll break another turtleneck. Not saying the f!reader has any specific issues, but if you recognize any, I hope to be nothing but respectful. ♥ Oh, and we have a dream sequence, Freud would be proud.

(This was mainly meant as a "put your feet up and be cozy, read about yourself and feel good" read, the action will come later. Among other things. I'm so sorry, my thesis is driving me mad.)

Warnings: It's the god damn Front Man The usual Squid Game warnings, mdni, stalking, spying, voyeurism, touching, self-touching, sexual themes, sexual almost-intercourse, descriptions of anatomy and body parts, blood, yearning, some terrible references and Slavic folklore. Privacy? In my fic? It's less likely than you think.

Word count: 4.2k

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A cup of tea. A cup. You were watching the cup. Steam rises from it and folds into nothing. Your stomach is churning. Is it stress? You ponder. Seeing the liquid close in on itself as you stir it. Again and again.

"It'll get cold." You say, to no one. You try to breathe. Heart pounding. Head a bit spinny. You look around your room. Dimly lit, warm orange light from a salt lamp. You check your blinds - still closed, still safe. Noise from other people you try to filter out. Why do you jump at every single sound? Why does white noise blaring its head off make for the only atmosphere you can stand? You wonder. You get up. The world spins. The phone lies on your bed. As it has for the last three hours. Unchecked. Your sound is off. It always is. You turned off everything this time. It's just black. You try to think, ground yourself, poems float through your pounding head. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the tall mirrors of your wardrobe. An oddly shaped form stares back at you.

"Jesus Christ…I look…like shit." The mirrored lips curl around your words - but it might as well have been a stranger speaking back at you. You don't recognize yourself, and what you do, you dislike. Like a funhouse mirror. Without the fun. Your long hair falls across your shoulders, curling towards the ends. Your exposed skin is cold and giving a nice exposé of every vein under your neck, driving rivers of blue across your collarbones, your shoulders, your chest. You won't look further. They seem to be drawn to your middle, pooling across your skin. People often referred to you as pale, no matter your actual skin tone. When things got a tad too heavy, you became transparent. It was calming, sometimes. Calming that so much was trying to keep you alive to the point of exhausting itself and sending highways of signals through every vein to keep at it. Your head spins again. More poems. Try to drink the tea.

"Light your candle, one, two, there's a moth…" You know the rest. But the lips fail to speak. You pick up the phone. And almost knock over your tea. Then proceed to fight an urge to fling it into a wall and watch the stains roll down like fresh blood.

Seventeen missed calls from a blocked number - your now ex-companion. A worried message from your friend, no doubt spurred by said ex-companion with an entirely different story to reality. Frowning, you adjust your dressing gown and tie it down to hold everything in and hold you together.

"Hey, Y/N…I know you probably don't want to talk, but I'm sorry things went so badly. I'm here."

You hate yourself a little more. Clara has always been a darling, you…cared for her. A lot. You wish to say "loved", you squint your eyes and wish to say you love her. People are kind. People are always so very kind. And you can't drink a cup of tea. Nor reply. There's also an email. From a set of numbers, no name. You open it, against your better judgement. No subject, only a photograph. Of your door. Your door inside your flat. Which is locked. You didn't ring anyone in. You, of all people, didn't hear any steps on the stairs. You live at the very top floor. And still?! What is wrong with you lately, now of all times?

And still, there is a photograph of your door. With…things? Your shoes were gently placed beside your mat.

"Um…" You knock on your housemate's door - how grateful you are for the economic situation which doesn't permit you to live alone now, you think bitterly as his steps approach.

"Oh, Y/N, how are you? What can I do you for?" Ever the cheerful voice and visage stands before you, half dressed, always flooded with work and hobbies. The room behind him is full of papers and candles, manuals and scripts, and information that probably shouldn't be lying around covered in bird photography snaps. It calms you a tad. You breathe out and uncross your arms. In the back of your mind, you wonder what he's always so entranced with.

"I'm getting there, thank you, Lubo." Your chest falls a tad, you really do feel a bit better, but very on edge. You fidget with your fingers as you speak. "Would it be alright to ask if you could open the main door with me? Something is there and I've been listening to too many IRA anthems to trust it." Because making a joke out of a very serious situation never failed you yet.

"Sure!"

You notice one of the birds on the ground behind him. Gazing at one photograph a little longer, you smile at the birdie and its soft grey feathers, little black dash across its little eyes...you realise you're looking at a shrike. The universe really is sending her best.

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You open the door as Lubo endeavours to rummage through the things on your doorstep. It seems to be a very neatly wrapped black box with a pink bow. With a little token of a crow embossed on its side. Heavy, by the looks of it. You half expect your ex-companion's limbs to be soaking its insides.

"I'll take it indoors and disinfect it, ok? Just so it doesn't feel like you've contaminated the flat." You nod, thank him over and over, and feel very grateful for him remembering your slight fights with obsessive cleanliness and parasites. But this looks…clean. You take a knife from your room, the knife that's been under your pillow for good reason. Kneeling, you gently unwrap the box altogether and distance yourself from the thing for a little bit. Breathe. It's just a box. Those never go wrong.

It's…full of…gifts?

Your…favourite flowers, perfectly preserved. No one knows your favourite flowers that well. Under them, resting under jewels of crimson poppies, lies a book of poems, the ones you use to calm yourself down; the ones that make you feel less alone. In the correct languge, even. Next to the poppies, hot water bottles, wrapped, fluffy, still warm. Under them yet, medication you couldn't get from your doctor for the entire month due to disagreements and never being heard, half of them aren't even sold in the country. Bath salts, dark chocolate, tea…there seems to be so much. Your face is caught in a mixture of attempting to frown, being swept off your feet, and deeply uncomfortable with what is basically an encyclopedia of you in a box. You carefully lay the items to the side and begin to notice things you truly need your housemate to not see. You lose your breath for a moment and blush so hard you almost forget both the kindness and terror of the rest of the package. It seems to be divided into care for you and…some other forms of urges. As if. As fucking if.

"Google, remind me to photograph this tomorrow in good light," you say to nothing, "to use as evidence either after this person manages to kill me or before, if the courts move faster than an asthmatic ant with heavy shopping."

Against your better judgement, you carry the box to your room and watch it for a while, as you do other things, but can never quite relax. Surely he can't be serious. Your name isn't Shirley.

There was also a note you now keep flinging on your table and crunching in your hands, neatly written, with no name.

"Dear Y/N,

should you wish to meet someone qualified to help with the attached records, it has been arranged. Be at the coordinates listed between the red and white gift and you will be taken care of. No harm will come to you. You are safe. As right as rain."

Right as rain…that's a part of a poem, that absolute…dear God, fuck, the thoughts in your head are tumbling down at you and you collapse onto the bed, staring at your knees. It's a good thing he somehow didn't include your most loved flowers, since they're all poisonous. One of them you like specifically because it is elegant, sharp, snowy, and beautiful - and all of her body, leaves, and seed pouches scream "don't fucking touch me, if you do, you will die and wish for death the entire time you are doing so". You would very much like to be the flower now. Make someone else hallucinate.

You search the box again and find the beautiful gown, in red, and the gentle white lace undergarments - as kind and gentle and revealing as they are elegant. A little QR code is nestled between the lace.

"Nope. Nope nope NOPE. Absolutely not," you say out loud. Fighting the fact that the nightgown under the two other garments is cozy and light and so very beautiful. And it smells…oddly familiar. With a hint of something else. As if someone knew you loved scents of sweetness, vanilla, caramel, honey, and skin combined with darker, heavier tones that don't usually mix with feminine perfumes. Something lovely and gentle to draw you in, with something far more potent, enveloping, and enthralling to drag you down the lake to drown. And yet. Still. Something else. Something more. You decide to put on the gown and stare into a little crow's eyes. Such a pretty little statue, you don't even remember where you got it from.

"I'm going to be alright. Water is fine. This is just water. We've been here, we've been in the mud up to our noses." You are whispering to yourself, trying to sooth your mind. Metaphores, poems, sooth sooth sooth. You close your eyes, think of beautiful women, barefoot, in the dark of a forest. Glistening lights in their long hair, lights in their gorgeous eyes. Light on their feet, as they dance upon the water and through the marsh. You cannot drown a forest spirit of a woman scorned. They will mesmerize you, dance you, dance you to the end of your love and tether, and pull you into the depths. Then kiss you as you gasp for air.

You undress, eyes still closed, holding the long white gown. You slowly slide into the fabric, which clings to your skin as a lover's touch at the first sign of morning light. Still trying to be as unbothered and confident as a forest Rusalka. You aren't. But the gown smells nice. And it's quite light. Long sleeves, fabric that reveals but doesn't scream. Lace around your chest and stomach, falling down your hips and thighs.

…Kiss you as you gasp for air.

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In-ho was pleased with his gift. Not only the gift, but the message. Upon message. Upon message. He wondered, quite hopeful - yet reserved - if you understood them all. No matter.

You will. Oh, you will. Every word. Even if he has to cling them to your skin, one by one, with his own lips.

To the surprise of absolutely no one except you, perhaps, the small bird brought him all the feedback he could desire. Rather low quality feedback, he thought, as he watched you ponder, watched you crunch up the note, and watched you dress. Instinctively, he looked away as you began to slide your own clothes down. He glimpsed perhaps a strap, perhaps more skin than he first saw…light reflecting off you, sliding down, further down, caressing your tenderness…yet he looked away, calmly resolute to not look back. His gaze remained firmly in the corner of the room, he certainly wasn't fighting - or imagining himself being the photons of light resting on your supple skin. No. It would be unbecoming to watch a lady undress, so vulnerable, so unknowing. Never mind the rest. If you looked up the word "hypocrite" in the dictionary, In-ho's face wouldn't be next to it. It would be on the next page, because he would never be caught. As he looked back, you were dressed, not looking at yourself.

In-ho frowns for a moment, before he sees the rest of you. Even though it's just a phone screen and the picture quality truly isn't doing you justice, his breath is caught. He shifts and looks around instinctively, only a flicker of the eyes and a small movement of the neck. But he's nervous, nervous to be so exposed. He chuckles to himself just as unnoticeably - he's spying on you yet he's the one feeling exposed..was the chuckle to ease tension? This is just a game to him and you are nothing, after all. No one. He shifts once more and uncrosses his legs, one hand slowly combing his hair firmly away from of his forehead. Nothing. Just as it is nothing that is making the jacket around his neck feel tight. He sees you stand, further away now. He sees your entirety in the white flowing fabric, the lace, the…entirety…of you. His coat needs to come off, and is discarded to the side in haste. The remaining turtleneck isn't much help, but he goes in, now fully enthralled. Positioning himself, he endeavours to enjoy you. Slowly. From the tip of your head to the soles of your feet, remaining fully in control, admiring, never taking, never grabbing. Never…needing. But as he moves down your face, your cheeks, your chin, along your neck all the way to your hair resting on your now exposed shoulders, back to your mouth and lips - he leans into the screen - those supple yet reserved, tender lips whispering gently and curling around words as if speaking to a sleeping lover in the night who is caught in a bad dream, the eyes - damn the picture quality - the eyes that glint, yet resemble dark pools amid features that are…that mean…his heart is fast. His eyes pools of reckless abandon. They flicker to the movement of your hips and tick fast, fast back up top, stopping at the almond curve the nightgown begets your breasts - In-ho's hands twitch as his fingers yearn with a mind of their own, to hear you gasp and squirm and melt under their touch as he teases, cups, and caresses in the gown's place. Tender flowers, waiting to be kissed. As you move, for him, for his eyes only, his mind floods through its inhibitions and begins racing on instinct - yet does so wrapped in cotton; barely subdued. Algorithms, scenarios, plans - ten a second - gather in his mind - resting on nothing but your features, spurred into existence by you, your lips, your form, your movement. He's watching the last flame dance before him in a sea of suffocating darkness, and it is his. Tension grips The Frontman's trousers as he digs his fingers in to feel something, anything, as if to drag himself back, painfully if need be - all this…for a low quality moving picture of you.

You. Your self before him. No adjective does it justice to In-ho, no painter could stroke its surface, nobody could own this moment. Nobody but him. And he cannot reach, reach through the screen, for you, for you mean…you in your entirety, before him, vulnerable, bare, unknowing, both a deity to be worshipped and a form to be devoured and left pleading, barely breathing under him, his grasp, his hot breath, you, you mean…

…nothing to him. In-ho leans back again. He breathes a bit faster, containing himself. As his breath slows and features fall back into place, he straightens the trouser leg and exhales. Your name is on his lips as he does so; he whispers it to himself. A name that doesn't seem to leave his tongue, no matter how many times it wraps around every syllable.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…you are nothing."

He turns off the screen with one click. "Nothing." He gets up, leaving the phone behind. He is back to his true self - unbothered, cold, empty. A statue of stone. It was fun while it lasted, but the shell he wears gets tired of the falsity imbued in it during these little sidesteps. Little adventures to ease the monotony. Your records lie on the table, next to his glass of dark liquer. He walks over slowly, cradles it, sipping with restraint, and puts it down just as slowly in the exact same place. He goes on with his evening, thinking, it must be said, of nothing. He continues his work, thinking of nothing. Nothing replaces the drabble of his underlings as they update him on the latest games. Nothing is on his mind as he showers, nothing is in the water that glides down his own body. Nothing is in the warmth that he doesn't imagine being replaced nor coming from a different source. The voice of nothing is in the hiss and humm of the shower, nothing sings to him sweetly as it envelops his form. Nothing is woven into his satin sheets, nothing still smells of the perfume he picked for you, nothing is in his bed and pillows and nothing is slowly, invariably, fatally invading his mind. The cologne he uses, the same cologne he rubbed upon certain parts of the gown you now rest in, isn't combining and wildly interweaving with your gentle, warm, sweet, yet heavy scent. Nothing is everywhere and nothing is driving him absolutely stark, staring mad as he lays there - naked, exposed, amid satin sheets, it is nothing that invades his dreams and wraps him in sensations he can still only dream of.

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Barren lands and dusk. No flowers. No life. In-ho is alone. As far as the eye can see lies nothing. He cannot feel his mask. A shape is in front of him, laying there, incredulous. Unfitting its surroundings. As if guided by an unseen hand, he walks up to her slowly and kneels beside her. She is dressed in white fabric, falling across her skin, exposing more than is becoming of such a form. Her hand is resting next to her head, her other at her side. She is peacefully asleep. A gentle humm escapes her lips - she must be dreaming. In-ho glides the back of his hand everso carefully across her cheek, guiding it down her neck and stopping at her collarbones. Her chest lifts in a slow rhythm as her skin touches his. She is his. Is she not? He could...open his hand, and his hand opens. He could place it around her neck, and he does. As he feels her warmth and blood pumping into his hand, he thinks he could squeeze and hold down. He doesn't. The form reacts to his intentions, seemingly, her face frowning in the most unnoticeable way, lips falling from their previous peaceful expression to a worried frown. As if caught in a bad dream.

No, no, no.

In-ho releases the pressure and merely rests his hand on her neck, pushing errant strands of hair away from her skin. They fall around her shoulders and between the fingers of his other hand, which lifts instinctively to cradle her head. Her expression relaxes, and he smiles almost on instinct. Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and gaze into his own, almost unblinking and holding his gaze. The pools of comforting darkness set in an innocent visage drive electrical current through his entire body and In-ho almost has to steady himself against the ground where his hand is holding her head, still. She isn't scared, she only gazes and studies, lays, and rests in his own dark eyes. Her smile mirrors his. As if the two of them were already familiar, already far beyond anything novel. She whispers to him.

"Darling, this isn't your place."

In-ho doesn't think, he knows the voice. The gentle, slow, melodic whisper that he wishes to hear before he goes to sleep himself. Putting more strength into his grip, he places his dominant palm in hers as it still lays beside her head. He squeezes her down. Without thought, his body shifts to move above hers, holding her gaze, now directly on top of her, without touching her body with his. His hands no longer gentle, but firmly holding down. His thumb caresses her cheek as his other hand pushes her palm into the ground.

"It doesn't need to be."

As the sentence barely left his lips, he connects them with her neck, firmly kissing the skin and pulling her into his bite. The taste is intoxicating, and beckons for more. Sweet, tender, pure, intoxicating. Down her neck he plants kisses and barely restrained bites, gliding his touch, gripping her hand and moving his other to her neck once more. He hears gasps and timid moans, and he moves down, lips brushing against her chest and resting upon it. He lets go of her hand and finally grips her, under the small of her back, caressing and squeezing her waist, lifting her body into his. Now he feels her. Now he feels her being react and pressure and squirm, now he feels the pulse of her body directly under his and melting into him. Every movement, every gasp, every beat of her heart - in his control, under him, sinking into him. Her waist lifts against his and he eagerly helps it up, feeling his need against her body, finally, all he needs to do is tear off the gown, take her, make her fully his and hear her cries and moans as he takes what is his. Still in control of himself, he fully recognizes his itch, his need, his voracious hunger. He recognizes it and fully gives into it.

But the dream does not let him.

Something is wrong. The body is colder now, her breathing is slow, her voice no longer caressing him, her being no longer reacting to his touch. The current fizzled out. Pulling away, he sees the damage done - even as her eyes are wistful and her smile still there, it is sorrowful and soft, gazing down at him although broken under him. He sees her neck and chest, her breasts exposed, her skin red with bite marks, red with his signatures. Lines where his grip failed to falter rest on her tender flesh, her pallor a canvas for his need and depravity. For his destruction. He does not want this, he does not want her like this, his mind races and tries to get back in control but cannot. The canvas before him begins to soak through in crimson, blood pools into the white fabric where he lay and pushed and tried to take her. As he watches the gown cling to her stomach with blood, fear drives cold daggers through his back. He is no longer the Front Man, he is himself. Himself before a Front Man ever was. And he is...scared. Still her voice reaches him, doing nothing to alleviate his state, doing nothing to destroy the damn invisible barrier that keeps him from holding her close, holding her together, holding him together.

"Not like this darling, not like this again."

How is she still smiling? How does she seem so cold yet encompassing an utter lack of proximity? Holding her now seems like the most sacriligeous, repugnant thing he could do. His hands shiver lightly, how is he afraid to touch her now? After all that? She is his, his, this is all so incredibly wrong! He doesn't care, he doesn't have feelings for such frivolities, she is a dime a dozen, she is worth nothing, and she is nothing to him; nothing.

And she's still smiling, a little laugh escaping her lips as if she can hear his inner turmoil and has seen it thrice before.

"Taking what you want, never what you need."

In-ho looks down at his own body, which begins to feel cold and wrong. As if missing something vital. He smells copper, his hand feels hot as he touches his chest yet his body grows colder. The last thing he remembers before waking up in a freezing sweat is looking down at his own body, now filled with open chasms wherever it touched hers - gaping empty holes that can be filled with nothing, bleeding him into the ground as she watches on.

In-ho gasps, springs up into a seated position and touches his chest, his stomach - and breathes in relief. As he is composing himself, a new manner of play begins to form in his mind. Between hurried breaths and elevated pulse beats, he plans a new way to play this game and win.

[cosmerelists]

Observations of an Employee at a Trampoline Park (That is Frequented by Cosmere Characters)

Characters at a trampoline park requested by @queenfishiethemagnificent :)

[This post contains some WAT-jokes! Specifically in the entries for Szeth, Leshwi, & Kaladin/Syl, just in case you want to skip those!)]

At a trampoline park somewhere in our world there works an innocent employee who keeps a diary about what they experience at their job. Here are some of the observations on the Cosmere characters who inexplicably show up at this trampoline park.

1. Szeth [warning: Wat spoilers]

That bald guy (Seth? Zack?) was back again today. I have never seen anyone bounce so seriously. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. He never smiles or laughs; he bounces like it is his Job to Bounce and he Must Take It Seriously.

But also he's really good at it? I feel like he must have trained as a dancer or something because he's actually really graceful, always landing on his feet and then soaring right back into the air, like a beautiful bald kangaroo.

SO serious though!

2. Ann

Oh man it was the saddest thing today. There was this woman who came in really excited to try our Extreme Trampoline Dunk Zone--you know, where you bounce up and can dunk a basketball. She was like, "Oh yeah, I'm great at making baskets" and paid for the entrance and everything and then I watched her miss. Every. Single. Throw. S-She kept at it, though! But, like, I didn't think it was possible to miss that many in a row...

After like the saddest half hour of my life, her friend came by and brought her glasses. She did WAY better after that!

3. Elhokar

That guy who broke his leg came back!!! I honestly can't believe it, since when he left he was saying that it must have been the "assassins" trying to get him "again," and he seemed really upset and also it's kinda horrific when bones break here.

But he was back, and much calmer, and said he was sorry for making a fuss and also did I want to feel his leg because it's "really funky feeling now." I said no, and he nodded gravely, and went off to bounce I guess.

Weird guy. Seems to mean well. I hope the assassins don't get him, I guess.

4. Vin

I had to kick someone out today :( I call her Coin Girl. She kept, like, throwing coins down onto the trampoline! She said it made her fly higher which, like, isn't how science works?

To be fair, she did gather up all the coins she was throwing down. Kinda weirdly so...like she'd snatch them up almost as if they were being magically drawn directly to her...which is also not how science works!

And also to be fair, she was able to jump almost alarmingly high... And it was weird how the coins were almost driven down into the trampoline like they were being pushed by a great force...

But still! Throwing change around on the trampolines is NOT okay!

5. Wax

Okay, is coin-throwing like a meme or something now? A tiktok challenge? Because I had to kick someone ELSE out today! And this guy was old!! He had kids and a wife and everything!! And he was ALSO throwing coins around and then soaring up really high into the air while holding his kid who was shrieking in laughter and it WAS really cute but again! No! Throwing! Coins! In! The! Trampoline! Park!

Maybe I need to make a sign...

6. Adolin

When this very buff guy came in and wanted to try the Battle Beam (where you fight with padded sticks while standing on this beam over a pit of foam cubes), I wanted to be like, "You know that's for kids, right?" But instead I just pointed the way.

I peeked in later, and this guy was letting the little kids WAIL on him and kept dramatically "dying" and falling into the foam pit. The kids LOVED him. It was super sweet.

7. Sarene

Ha ha as if in DIRECT contrast to yesterday we had this woman come in today who also wanted to try the Battle Beam only this lady was MERCILESS. She was knocking kids into the pit left and right. To be fair, she was also giving them tips on their stance and stuff, so I bet she teaches fighting or something, but mostly it was hilarious to see her sending kids flying left and right.

The kids seemed to like that too, actually. Everybody likes to be thrown into a foam pit sometimes.

8. TenSoon

A dog tried to get into the trampoline park today. I was like, "Uh, are you with someone" and I would SWEAR he shook his head!!!

Anyway, we don't get dogs come into the trampoline park, and for some reason I told him that, and he walked away.

Weird.

9. Yumi

Okay most impressive dodge ball feet to date. So in our dodge ball area you basically bounce around and try to hit people with balls, blah blah blah. But also if you CATCH the ball when it's thrown at you, the thrower is out.

You should have seen this woman!! She was, like, catching ball after ball after ball. I swear she ended up with like a dozen of them, stacked high in her arms, WHILE BOUNCING!!

How did she do that?? She's got to be some sort of master stacker!

10. Leshwi [warning: Wat spoilers]

Most people wear tights or shorts or something you can move in if they come to a trampoline park. Not this lady! She came in wearing a dress whose train was like eight feet long, I swear. Maybe it was a wedding dress or something?

Then she went straight to our High Bounce area and started jumping. I'll admit that when she reached the highest point, and the train of her dress was like flowing down around her, it did look pretty cool.

She was also humming the whole time, and the melody felt really sad somehow. If that was a wedding dress, I don't think it worked out. :(

11. Lift

Had a teenager come in today wanting to try our Ninja Obstacle Course. I gave the safety spiel and she was like, "Don't worry. I'm stormin' graceful" (is that what kids these days say instead of "fucking"?).

And to be fair, she DID complete the course. She also scooted on her butt over any balance obstacle. But you know what? Whatever works! Good job, kid!

12. Kaladin & Syl [warning: Wat spoilers]

Okay, so the most gorgeous couple came in today--like, I don't know if they WERE a couple; I just mean they were both gorgeous and came in together, you know? The man was very tall and muscular and had luxurious hair, and the woman was wearing blue body paint (look, it worked) and a blue dress and wow. They bounced on that trampoline like it was a dance, and they seemed to be having a fantastic time. You know how some people seem to BELONG in the air? These two did.

I could have watched them bouncing together all day.

[mimikyus-hide-out]

"He doesnt have ptsd, he's just a wuss" im gonna hold your hand gently when i say this

(rant under the cut)

He was having a ptsd attack, he was clearly showing signs of ptsd before ep 7, whether they were subtle or not, they were signs. Everyone has different types of symptoms when it comes to it, not everyone has the same type (correct me if im wrong or if this sounds weird, my friend has told me they have ptsd and they dont have the same type as him, but even so your not going to be triggered by the same stuff he does because you two went through two different situations).

The dead bodies and gunshots were an obvious trigger for him, we saw everything leading up to his ptsd attack. The guards laying/hanging bodies on the balcony and on the floor, seeing his teammates dead bodies laying on the floor next to him. He said he would get the ammo because he wanted to get away from everything but the gunshots drove him into a corner

And he didnt even want to be in the marines in the first place! His father forced him to because he was to "feminine" or something similar to that! And even if you dont want to believe he has ptsd, He could have BEEN in the marines but didnt last long there. Like maybe he got injured somehow and then wasnt able to be there and he didnt have the time there to "Man up"

Or maybe he wasnt in the same field as he said he was so he could appear more tough, im not saying he WASNT in the army, im just saying he could have been doing different things there, because we can see in episode 7 where player 120 was showing them how to load it, he was struggling to do it, as if he has never used one before. But judging be his reaction to everything, he must have been SOMEWHERE during a fight, or have HEARD gunshots or SAW people die when he was in the army

And because of his fathers influence, whenever he is in a situation where strength is needed he brings up the fact that he was in the marines to make himself look strong and to not be left out. An example of this is when people who voted to leave and the people who voted to stay start arguing he shows his tattoo to intimidate the other side

So he might not have delt with guns or the same guns player 120 was using when she was in the army!

I saw people on reddit make valid points of him not having ptsd, like in the Mingle game (and him in the other games). Someone said "There was gunshots, blood, screams, people dying everywhere. Yet he was just fine" and i wouldnt say he was "just fine" but he was holding up okay. You could see he was covering up his ears and fidgeting, and spacing out the same way he way he did in ep 7. And yes that could be crossed off as him being nervous, i wont deny that.

And in the Mingle game he could be trying to calm himself down or trying to ignore it

And the show was being very vague so we dont KNOW if he does have ptsd or not, the directors could have done a bad job representing it or the actor. Again, we really dont know. I saw people on reddit making good points that he doesnt have ptsd, but i still think he does. ALSO I dont know what other shows/movies the actor has acted in, and im not hatting on the actor at all! Same thing with the director!

But still, we wont know until the creator of the show confirms it

Anyways sorry guys, i hope you can see what im trying to say! This is my first time writing something like this so im aware its bad!

[giggly-squiggily]

hiii, i saw that your demon slayer requests were limited and hope i sent in an ask on time before they piled up! may i pls request tanjiro and genya tickling muichiro after he randomly blurts out that he misses whenever his parents or yuichiro tickled him?

thanks and hope you have a great day/night! your writing is amazing!!

God my Demon Slayer heart has been BLAZING lately! This is such a bittersweet thought and I love it so very much! Anon, I've gotcha covered! :D

CW: Light Hurt/comfort, spoilers for Muichiro's past

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

“Get ohohoff me! Yoohohu ass!”

“Stop swearing- this is good for you!”

I miss that. That was the first thing that came to Muichiro’s mind as he watched the pair playing. Before, he didn’t know what the dull ache in his chest meant whenever they wrestled across the wooden floor, laughing and arguing about.

With his memories returned, he now knew exactly what it was- and he didn’t know if the proper response was to laugh in nostalgia or sob in longing.

Tanjiro and Genya were looking at him now- eyes wide with concern and surprise. When did they stop play-fighting?

…Oh. He said it outloud, didn’t he?

“Sorry.” Muichiro smiled, feeling his stomach churn with instant regret. “Just thinking out loud, that’s all. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“The mood is still alive- just temporarily on hold.” Genya leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy. “What do you mean, ‘I miss that’?”

“It’s nothing, really-”

“Nothing my ass! You look like you’re on the verge of tears!” Genya pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Talk or I’ll make you!”

“Gentle.” Tanjiro lowered Genya’s arm, turning to look at Muichiro next. “Though he’s not wrong, Lord Tokito. I smelled such a strong sadness from you just now. I can’t let that go- especially now that we’re friends.”

“Friends. Ah- I suppose that’s what we are now.” The Mist Hashira nodded, considering their words. After a few minutes, he decided to confide in them. “You two just now. You guys were having a tickle fight. It just reminded me of my family.

“Yu-” His voice caught the name, shaking for just a moment. “My brother. He would always tickle me. Whenever I was feeling down or anxious or just moody. He said I made funny noises.” The ache spread from the base of his ribs to the tops of his lungs. His throat suddenly felt very tight, but he forced himself to keep smiling through it. “He always found the oddest things funny. I guess seeing you guys fight like that- it made me think of him.”

Genya’s glare was long gone, replaced with wide, wet eyes. Tanjiro’s smile was sad, understanding in his comforting gaze as he reached out, taking Muichiro’s hand. “My family was like that too. I used to get into tickle fights with my siblings all the time. Their laughter was my favorite sound.”

“Same. Brother was like that too.” Genya nodded, running a hand over his mouth to hide his quivering lip. “He always said we were so noisy first thing in the morning. ‘Who needs  a rooster when I have you guys?’”

Tanjiro giggled. Muichiro smiled, but his chest remained in pain. Now he knew he killed the mood. As good as it felt to share, he clearly brought up memories for these two that were painful. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have-” “GAH!” Genya roared and charged him, tackling Muichiro into the nearest futon. “Shut up and die!”

“What-EEK! Ahehahahaha! W-Wahahhait, wahhahahait, hhoohohohold ohohohon!” Muichiro cried out in sudden giggles, arching hard as Genya squeezed his sides. “Whhahahaht dohohohoho yohohohu mehehahahahn?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’re about to be stupid!” Genya cried in return, switching from squeezes to gentle pokes and prods. “If you thought for a second I was going to sit here and let you feel bad for sharing your history with us, you’re a bigger jughead than I thought!”

“Juhuhuhuug heahhahahahd?”

“Jughead!”

“Buhuhuhut my heahhahad’s nhoohohormal-”

“Shut up and get tickled!” Genya pinched along his lower ribs, making him squeal.

“Hold on, Genya- wait a moment. You know how Lord Tokito is.” Tanjiro came into view now, hands coming out and tapping Genya’s until he paused. Able to catch his breath now, Muichiro thanked him internally. “I’ve gotten good at translating Shinazugawas.”

“Oi!” Genya fussed, blushing. Tanjiro stuck his tongue out playfully.

“I have, though! What he’s saying is- you shouldn’t feel bad for sharing memories about your family. Even if we tear up, we’re not upset. We just relate to your pain.” Despite the words, Tanjiro smiled down at him, watching clarity pass over Muichiro’s face. “So don’t feel bad, okay Lord Tokito. Talking about those who’ve passed on; it’s a part of honoring their memory.”

Muichiro nodded, letting the words settle in. Such simple truths, but hearing them from Tanjiro felt more solid. Still.. “Muichiro.”

“Hm?” The brunette blinked, tilting his head.

“Drop the Lord Tokito thing. At least when it’s just us. We’re friends. You can call me Muichiro.” He nodded at Genya too, making him flush in surprise. “Both of you.”

“Aww..Lor-Muichiro!” Tanjiro laughed, delighted. Genya looked thrilled as well. Just like that, his friends were smiling once more.

“Good. Glad we got that sorted. Can you let me up?”

“No.” Tanjiro was still smiling. “Resume tickling, Genya!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” The other barked, doing as he was told. Muichiro didn’t stand a chance.

“Ah! Ahahahahhaha, cohoohohhome ohohohohn! Thihihihis isn’t fahhahahir!” The younger boy squealed as he was tickled once more, his position even worse now with Tanjiro grabbing his wrists and pulling them high. “Twhohohohohho on ohohohohone is agahhahahainst the ruhuhuhules!”

“Not when it comes to fighting Hashira!” Genya pointed out, softening his touch as he walked his hands up and down Muichiro’s torso. “You even said so yourself the other day during training! How you could take down at least ten of us in your sleep?”

“Thaahhaht’s a lihihihiihe! I nehehehehver sahahhaid thahahhat!”

“He’s right, Genya. He didn’t say ten.” Tanjiro pointed out. “He said twenty.”

“My point exactly!”

“Tahhahahnjirohohohu I truhuhuusted yoohohohohu!” The Mist Hashira whined through his giggles, wiggling this way and that as his ribs were picked at. He knew he could easily break free from these two- Tanjiro’s grip was barely considered firm- but what fun would that be? “Yoohohohohu betrahhahahyed meheheheehhehe!”

“Forgive me. It’s for the greater good.” Tanjiro snickered, daring a cheeky wink. The nerve! The gal!

“Hey- where’s these supposed funny noises you make, Muichiro?” Genya asked, giving the Mist Hashira a breather. “Don’t get me wrong- you do sound rather cute now with all that squealing, but I want to hear the real funny stuff, you know?”

“Shahhame…” He groaned around giggles, face heating up at being called cute. Tanjiro hummed in thought.

“Should we flip him over?” He asked.

“NO!” Muichiro’s squeak clashed with Genya’s “YEAH!” They looked at him with amused grins, watching him grow fifty shades redder beneath their stares. “I mean-  yo-you don’t really hahahlf too, yeah?”

“Do you want us to flip you over?” Tanjiro asked with a knowing grin. Muichiro looked anywhere but them, voice suddenly lost. All he could do was nod.

“So damn cute.” Genya’s murmur was nearly lost to him as he was flipped like a pancake. He didn’t so much get a chance to even blush over it before he was shrieking with laughter once more. “Aha! There’s the funny noises!”

“Hehe, yeah! Muichiro, you sound like Inosuke!”

“Aheahhahahahahh! EehheehEHEHEHEK! Gehahahahhaha-AH!” Mess wouldn’t be the right word to describe him. With his face buried in Tanjiro’s thigh, Muichiro let out a series of pig snorts, squeals and whistle notes that would put the best Kashu to shame- all while the pair gently traced his spine and shoulderblades.If Tanjiro and Genya were commenting on it, he could barely make them out over the ticklish feeling. “OHohohoohkay! Ohoohohohokay, yohohoohhou gohohohot yhohohoohur nohohohoises, now stahhahahahahap!”

“Pfft-” Genya sputtered before falling into him, laughing helplessly against the middle of Muichiro’s back. Tanjiro was just as giggly, changing from gentle tickles to soothing touches against his hair. “Oohoho my gohohod, thahaht was amazing!”

“Ihihit was! It was!” Tanjiro agreed, brushing Muichiro’s hair from his face to really look at him. “Are you okay? We didn’t overdo it, did we?”

His whole body felt ablaze. His head kinda hurt, and his chest was now aching for an entirely new reason. Despite all this, he never felt lighter- like the breathing style he mastered. “You’re fine. If ahahanything, I had fun. That was really nice..”

“Nice, huh? We should get you more often then!” Genya poked his sides for emphasis, laughing when his hands got snatched. “Okay okay- no more I promise.” After Muichiro released him, Genya smoothed out the tangles in his hair. “Do now what? Do we go for Tanjiro next?”

“I think- huh?” The brunette yelped, wide eyed at the suggestion. Muichiro smiled, suddenly very motivated.

“Yeah. Let’s get Tanjiro.”

“Now hohohold on! Waahit, wahahhahahahahhait!” He was quickly ambushed by the duo, giggling all the way down even before they touched him.

 Later, when Muichiro would be home alone reflecting on his day, he would think about Yuichiro and how tickle fights with him ended similarly.

His memory still brought tears, but his smile felt more genuine. His chest not nearly as tight. “Heh, I guess they found me funny too, Yuichiro.”

Thanks for reading!

[1ftinreality]

1ftinreality’s wolfstar fanfic recs - Jan 2025

@moonheavens makes these wolfstar fanfic rec lists that have led me to some incredible finds. so i wanted to take a stab at tracking my monthly reads, because this fandom is full of so many incredible people and i desperately need to yell about it! ah!

authors, if you’d like to be untagged, or if you’d like me to change/remove descriptions of your fic, please do let me know!

Some WIPs I have been losing my mind over

on another ocean by @colgatebluemintygel (133K, Explicit)

Sirius gets broken up with so of course he brings his BEST PAL Remus on a pre-planned romantic vacation across Europe. What could possibly go wrong??!!

Of Prefects, Pretence, and Precendent by Whoops_e (102K, Mature)

Remus is the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect and Sirius is a sixth-year who could not care less about swots. Or could he?

time passages by @fruityindividual (16K, Explicit)

They’re Hogwarts professors AND they’re ex-husbands!! Fruity_individual writes the best divorce fics and I CANNOT WAIT. 

Canon universe but better

Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @SquintClover and @Tracingpatternwrites (89K, Mature)

Enemies to lovers! Good soup! They’re on the Hogwarts PTA together, what could possibly go wrong?

Falling in Love Without You by @babblingflowers, @TherestheSnitch (51K, Explicit)

Sirius needs to get soul-bonded before his 20th birthday because of a Black family stipulation. He goes through the friend group looking for the perfect husband, and Remus helps him because of course he does :) 

Bound by @shiftylinguini (21K, Explicit)

Sirius comes back from the Veil to find Remus married to Tonks. They don’t talk about it, but they do… many other things instead.

Candy crush by bizarrestars (24K, Mature)

Remus has been sucking lollies to quit smoking. Sirius makes stealing them his hobby. Fluff, fluff for ages!

Modern AU

Writing Pages by @Dearamleo (118K, Explicit)

Remus is a struggling Masters student who meets Sirius at a house party. They don’t get along at first. 

A Brief History of Dragons by @eyra (23K, Mature)

Eyra always writes the softest, cosiest fics that soothe the soul. This is no exception. Sirius moves to Cornwall for the summer, where he meets a boy who may or may not be writing a book about dragons. 

The Road to Sweetwater by @EuripidesTrousers (57K, Explicit)

Bounty hunter Remus x Outlaw Sirius, with flavors of Brokeback Mountain. It’s about fighting back against an unjust system in spite of the odds, so, you know, not at all relevant to the state of the world right now. Every sentence, every phrase is so thought-through, I think I have half the fic highlighted just because of how beautiful it all is. 

The World is Waiting For You by thechanchanman (92K, Mature)

An Amazing Race AU! The silliest, sweetest banter, fluff all around! 

Sorry I'm Late - I Was Waiting For You by @euripidestrousers (84K, Explicit)

Obsessed with everything by euripidestrousers tbh. Sirius and Remus meet in college, but Remus is still a werewolf. 

I'm Waiting Here For You by ohyou-pretty-things (64K, Explicit)

Sugar daddy Sirius x sugar baby Remus. Such a gentle, lovely story, it’s like a big warm (spicy and fun) hug. 

Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars by @Wrapped-Up (40K, Explicit)

Exes to lovers, exes to lovers!! Remus ran off years ago but he’s back for some reason. Why??

Religious trauma?!?

Dear Your Holiness by @MollyMaryMarie (14K, Explicit)

Remus is a priest who helps Sirius write his dad’s eulogy. Breathtakingly thoughtful take on the hypocrises and contradictions of mainstream Catholicism.

The Fall by @euripidestrousers (13K, Explicit)

Remus is an elementary school teacher and Sirius is the devil, here to corrupt his soul. Oops.

Christmas AUs

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Robbin by @tealeavesandtrash (15K, Teens and Up)

Non-magical AU. Sirius visits the Potters in Hogsmeade and meets Remus, the local bookstore owner. Warm, festive vibes all around. 

Dear Mr Black by @languagelessonswolfstar (73K, Explicit)

Sirius is a celebrity chef who takes a career break at Remus’s BnB. MsAlex has the loveliest Xmas fics, and this is no exception. 

Short fics

Remus Lupin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Book Signing by @severedreamerfox (3K, Mature)

Remus is a public school librarian and Sirius is a children’s book author. Cute stuff all around!

Open Thoughts by @marigold-hills (3K, Mature)

Sirius becomes a temporary Occlumens after getting hit by a stray spell during an Auror mission. He becomes very, very aware of how his dear friend and roommate thinks about him.

What became of the dreams we had by @aryastark_valarmorghulis (8K. Mature)

Sirius visits Remus after Goblet of Fire. A sweet little fix-it of sorts.

Basilisks, Boggarts, and Boyfriends (oh my) by OptimisticDinosaur (8K, Teens and Up)

Sirius has the hots for the Dark Magic Exterminator he hired to clear out his parents’ place. So he starts planting Dark Creatures in his house to make Remus come back. Harry befriends a Basilisk in the meantime. 

This One's Just Right by thechanchanman (10K, Explicit)

Too many mattresses! A modern AU where James accidentally locks them in a mattress store.

[milessunflowers]

Basically reader is head strategist for Mercedes and personally taylor made the strategies for nico and lewis but their fighting is disrupting the statistics even though he's trying to give them the best he can, reader is deeply in love with his bestfriends but neither lewis or nico seem to notice admits their friendship turned almost relationship turned bitter rivalry, its the year before nico wins his championship and its announced that reader is moving to another team (redbull maybe? Or ferrari so its angstyer when lewis moves there) anyway fast foward through out the year its been a grueling battle to win between lewis and nico that nico realizes that they haven't talked to reader since half way into last years season when nico finds out that reader moved teams he's rocked with devastation, anger, grief and a realization that he and lewis are the reason you don't talk to them anymore nico tries to tell lewis but he's just like 'so what? I'm still going to win' and nico stares at him in astonishment not recognizing his former bestfriend and would be lover, flash over to after nico wins the championship he announces he's going to retire before trying to contact reader which reader ignores for six months (lewis is ignoring the lonely feeling in his chest) before he picks up the phone and before nico can talk starts to rant about how reader just wants them to leave him alone that while he loves them and that while he tried to forget his feelings for them he can't but he can no longer be involved in their petty fued, Nico apologizes saying that he's retired and wants to make amends, we then flash foward to the year before lewis wins his seventh win, lewis has seen reader around the paddock but hasn't been able to get him to talk with him lewis has also seen the way nico has cozied up to reader (reader and nico are in a relationship, not that anyone knows that) anyway lewis tries to be friends with reader again (and Definitely more) but reader avoids him which leads him to talking to nico and Reconciling with him first and then with reader (all three of them just having these dinners at restaurants so they could have the closeness they had when they were younger) it takes lewis till 2023 (3 years basically since he won his 7th in 2020) when max wins another championship to both figure out nico and reader are in a relationship (got together 2018) and to realize he's pining for them both (again) cue awkward lewis being given advice from george, who directs him too lando, on advice on how to ask two people who are in a relatioship out (some side george x alex x lando or maybe oscar x lily x lando) anyway lewis asks nico and reader out in winter break where their caught by the media, before that though reader explains to lewis that before he fixed their friendship reader was really hurt that they would put racing over each others lives and that while reader and nico love lewis he needs to promise to that he won't put racing above their relationship and that after 2025 he'll retire wether he wins the championship or not, lewis agrees quickly afraid they'll take it back saying that he felt it was going to be his last year anyway, it ends with lewis winning 2025 and kissing both nico and reader after the last race and announcing he's going to retire.

Holy shite i got really into that, i'm so very sorry, if its too long please just say so.

–🍑

peach i am in awe. this is just, holy fuck

lewis hamilton x race strategist!male!reader x nico rosburg

synopsis: it took them too long to realize how badly they messed up. good thing you are forgiving.

author's note: holy cow this got really long but peach, the details, all of it, was just amazing. you're so creative 🫶🏻 i am living for all this. i did slightly change somethings, i hope you dont mind! feel free to keep requesting!!!

it started out well

like really well

your strategies worked amazing, the boys were performing well

then it went to shit like most things

they started this bitter rivalry that made little to no sense to you

for a while, you thought it was your fault

maybe your stats and strategies weren't right

maybe you weren't doing good with you job

you thought that up until ferrari offered you a job as head strategist

thats when you knew it wasn't entirely your fault

you took the offer proudly

thats when it hit nico how much they took you for granted

you thrived in ferrari while nico and lewis were still fighting with each other

you distanced yourself from that and instead focused on your new job, where you were surpringly happy

like happier than you had been at mercedes (even if lewis and nico weren't there)

it took nico almost a full season to entirely realizes that him and lewis hadn't even attempted to talk to you since they team move

that hit him like a truck

he felt guilty, him and lewis both

they just show it in different ways

once nico finally wins his wdc, he is happy, just not as happy as he would've been if he were still close with you and lewis

he announced his retirement and almost immediately went to reconcile with you

he didn't want to keep things in deep shit with you

he missed you so so much

your smile, your laugh, just you in general

it started slowly with small talk over text before nico just finally apologized for absolutely everything, from essentially blaming you for his rivalry with lewis to ignoring you for almost a year

you apologized for ignoring him too and distancing

from then on, you guys talked every single day

day in and day out

every free minute you two had was spent talking and hanging out

slowly, you guys admit how long you have loved each other for a long time

then boom, you guys got together

but you kept it a secret as you wanted a quiet (or as quiet as possible) life

you still worked hard on strategies

nico was amazing at reporting

you guys were happy together

skip forward a good few years and lewis is so close to winning his seventh wdc

he finally seems to notice the small signs that you and nico were together

that empty feeling returned

he was missing a part of himself without the two of you

he slowly starts to piece together the big puzzle

first with how you and nico seemed to gave been a thing for a while

then how much he missed you guys

then the deep rooted feelings he pushed aside for far to long

then the realization of just how much he need the two of you in his life

he immediately started building up this huge, elaborate, straight from the heart, apology speech he would tell you when he got you guys alone

he already had a plan set in his mind

then he realizes he actually has zero fucking clue what the hell to do

so he goes to the only person he knows that knows anything about this type of situation: george mother fucking russell

of course, george's situation is a little different

he started dating alex first then they basically accidentally added logan into the mix

but the three seemed to be happier than the majority of the people he knew

so he had to take a shot at asking him

turns out, george gives pretty decent advise

so, before going on the date, he needed to patch things up between the three of you

george's words not his

but that's what he does

he convinces both you and nico to talk with him (even brings roscoe because who doesn't love the little chunky monkey?)

you each take turns explaining how you felt

you kick started it by talking about how hurt you had been, not only as a strategist but also they're friend; how you felt like you were to blame for everything; how you didn't feel like they wanted you around anymore

nico already knew all this stuff but he still felt incredibly guilty

imagine how lewis felt

then nico explains how isolated it felt, losing the two people he loved more than anything; how he was so focused on winning that he forgot what was important

for once in years, him and lewis were on the same page

after hours of apologies, catching up, and eventually confessions, things were back to how they used to be years ago

skip to the winter break where you felt like you guys no longer had to hide

you were caught by fans at a restaurant, sharing laughs and some kisses before leaving back to the car, huge grins plastered across your faces

these pictures are posted everywhere

no one is surprised though

ferrari had to have some words with you about pr, same with mercedes for lewis and then sky sports for nico

once again, yall didn't care

skip forward again to lewis announcing he is gonna race for ferrari

bro didn't even tell you and nico

he was just like: "oh by the way-"

you were excited

but you made a deal between the three of you that you would retire and lewis would, regardless of the outcome of the season

the season went well, not exactly how you wanted it but still good enough

your retirement set for the end of the season was announced pretty early on

lewis's was very nico core

just dropped the bomb after the last race

where he just so happened to both you and nico in public

even though he had done it tons of times before

it was still surprising though

suck on that fia

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

[cool-lesbian-is-here]

Lmao I was walking at skl and I randomly saw this one guy in the year above me, right and he literally walked around me like I was contagious w rabies, right and then I realised why. So story time I guess :D!

When I was in yr7, I had this one friend that was in the year above me so we were hanging out outside and then this guy is next to us and we hear him saying shit like “Andrew Tate is cool , I wanna be like him” AND MY YOUNG, FEMINIST ASS TURNED AROUND AND WENT “sorry what did you say?” And then he repeated it AND I STARTED FUCKING ARGUING W THIS GUY THAT WAS LIKE AT LEAST TEN CENTIMETERS TALLER THAN ME AND IT LITERALLY GOT TO THE POINT WHERE WE WERE LIKE SHOUTING AT EACH ITHER. And then being the icon that I was, I had a rlly good point and he was left speechless, therefore I won the fight.

I’m so proud of myself, bc that guy is still avoiding me to this day like I have the bubonic plague.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 23: Airport Hug(s) . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I haven't done one of these in a little bit because I'm just getting moved back in at university but I'm glad to be back! This time, we are looking over Mike and El's airport hug vs. Mike and Will's.

These two scenes are extremely different. It is clear which one the writers and directors gave more importance. AKA which one is supposed to be the main focal point of the scene. If you think that the meeting scene in the airport is supposed to be all about Mil*ven and how cute their relationship is, I'm sorry but you are not watching the same show as I am. The airport hug between Mike and El and the airport 'hug' between Mike and Will are supposed to convey these messages:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship and they are trying to push it down, meaning it will come to the surface later.

It has something to do with the way Mike's acting.

Something has changed internally within Mike between Season 3 and Season 4.

This something is to do with Will.

You are supposed to notice Mike's actions towards Will more than his actions towards El.

This is how I will structure this ESSAY ASS POST

Number One:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship. It may not seem this way from the beginning, in fact, it seems very much like they are back to the way they used to be at the beginning of S3, apart from the making out- um yeah, so it all seems well. But that's the thing.

Developed relationships with depth, relationships that the audience need to crave for, do not get presented in this super cutesy, teenager-y love way. Unless there are other stakes. In Stranger Things, it is apparent to us that there is always something off when characters seem Too Happy. Something will go wrong, things won't stay the same as they were at the beginning of the Season. I really don't know how to describe it, but basically what I'm saying is, even in their cute moments, the audience needs to sense that something is off. Even if it's very minute.

The kiss is cute. But that's all it is. There are no stakes behind it, nothing bad has happened yet, which is why an audience who likes the couple already may feel happy with it. But a GA may be able to sense that this is unlike other kisses or meetings in ST. The kiss is not after a fight, the kiss is not after a long time of pining, the kiss is not an 'i can't lose you' kiss, the kiss is not a 'relief after a long time of fighting through something' kiss. It's just a kiss.

You may be thinking this is a bit harsh, but the GA also know another thing. El is lying to Mike. Her letter foreshadows problems for their relationship instantly.

From her letter, we know that she is lying about having a good time at school and in California. The audience may then believe that there must be something wrong with their relationship if she feels the need to lie. Especially El, the one who always says 'Friends don't lie' and got annoyed at Mike lying last season.

So this kiss isn't supposed to be cute. It's supposed to be tense. Because we are supposed to know that she's lying to him, and narratively, the truth always gets revealed.

Therefore, the audience is supposed to take away from this interaction not that Mike and El are a cute couple, but that El is trying to hide stuff for a reason.

And the audience quickly gets their reason why:

Number Two:

The reason why El's been so weird with Mike, the question that is ringing around in the audience's head get's half-answered with the next sequence.

The audience should know that something is wrong based on the way that the happy music suddenly shifts to something far more morose, and El looks hesitant before faking a smile. JUST as she fakes her happiness in her letters.

Therefore, the audience sees it is somehow Mike's fault she feels the need to act this way. So far, we have ticked off two problems in their relationship: El is lying to Mike, and El seems upset at the unfeeling note Mike made. These must be linked together.

I also think that the audience see that it is signed in such an unfeeling way, despite the kiss. This means that the kiss at the beginning no longer seems genuine at all. So obviously, the audience must be wondering where this is all coming from , and why Mike is upsetting El.

Number Three:

Something has changed internally within Mike. The time between Season 3 and Season 4 has drastically changed Mike's actions towards both El and Will. We know that suddenly Mike is being unfeeling towards her in his note, meaning that the rest of his interactions don't seem as genuine to the audience. This may be a different view they had from Season 3.

They have just been introduced to a change in El's behaviour towards Mike (she now lies to him), meaning there must have been a change in Mike's behaviour to have caused this. And this is all internal between seasons:

What changed?

Now, we should get the answer when we look back at the end of Season 3. Mike looks back at Will's house. He hugs his mom like he's numb and just realised something huge. The monologue over the top keeps saying how he doesn't 'want things to change'.

Later, in the apology scene in Will's room, we find out that Mike was afraid of losing Will, which is why he got mad at Will seeming standoffish.

SO WE GET THIS SCENE WHERE WE ARE INTRODUCED TO MIKE BEING SUPER WEIRD WITH EL AND THIS IS ODD SO HE MUST HAVE CHANGED AND THEN HE ACTS WEIRD WITH WILL SO IT ALL POINTS TO.........

Number Four:

The reason why he has changed with El is because of Will. The reason why he seems so unfeeling towards El yet so disingenuous and unlike himself is all because of Will. The way he acts, the way he writes notes, it all boils down to this moment in the scene.

Will is reason he's nervous. Will is the reason things have shifted.

If something has changed internally within Mike to clearly act differently enough with El to make her lie to him, AND something to make him act weird with Will, then they must be linked together.

Besides, if we want to go the super obvious, on the face of it analysis - Mike is simply nervous because his feelings have been realised. He doesn't want to let them show so he can keep up this disingenuous relationship with El. He just wants to seem normal. It all adds up.

Harking back to El's letter, she mentioned one thing about Will, and that was that he was painting something for a girl that he had never told Mike about. And Mike acts standoffish about the painting when Will confirms that it probably isn't for him. It's clear as day - he's nervous to keep up this facade, he's jealous that Will's not making paintings for him, and he's been scared of losing Will (confirmed later on).

I mean, this might be all well and fine. Mike might not be having an impactful scene with Will, after all--

OKAY I CAN'T EVEN TYPE IT OMG ONTO THE NEXT POINT

Number Five:

Mike's big problem has to boil down to Will. This is proven by the fact that we are supposed to focus on this interaction far more than his interaction with El.

First of all, it is important to note that the directors of the show are intentional with where they place extras during a scene. They have free will, and we an see their choices being made during the airport reunion.

In the first and last Milkvan kissing scene, the camera is focused on them, yes, but it is very busy. Watch the shippers try to edit this scene, the duffers really said. I mean, it was so hard to take a screenshot of them without a person in the way of the camera. This is not by accident.

Mike is wearing a visor, he's holding a bag so he can barely hug her, he's also wearing sunglasses inside?? You can't see his facial expression, making this seem even more disingenuous. Again, people are moving in front of the camera, it's very very busy.

It's supposed to be a little overwhelming. That is not a coincidence, they aren't filming in an actual busy airport. So so many extras walk in front of them during the whole scene, not just the kiss, but while they are speaking as well.

Compared to the scene with Will...

No extras pass in front of them, the camera is closed in on their facial expressions, making them very clear without obstruction what they are feeling. This tells the audience to look quickly! This is important!

This is why the main takeaway from this scene is not at all about how 'cute' Mil*ven are. It is supposed to remind you of the problems in Mike and El's relationship, introduce that Mike has changed between S3 and S4, making him seem disingenuous and wanting to seem 'normal'. And that this is all because of something to do with Will.

And based on the clues that he's repressing a lot of his emotions all of a sudden, he's heard that Will is painting for someone else, he's being unfeeling toward El because of Will for some reason..... Mike's problem is that he is trying to deny or repress feelings for Will.

Atp it seems too obvious to post.