#the only thing different is that she's in college

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On, ch3

masterpost CW crude talk and suggestive themes Some of this isn't much read through and I know some parts are clunky, but I've had a migraine for a week and a half now. Please no concrit/editing. It will get a good edit before it's final version for Ao3!

Text turned out to be fine. Good even. Danny was busy a lot, so Tim (and Caroline) often had to wait between small strings of communication, but that made it sort of special when they did hear back. It turned out that Danny not only worked as a mechanic at a custom shop, was working on his own bike, but also went to school to get his mechanical engineering degree at Gotham U (with summer gen ed course done at one of the cheaper community colleges).

Tim hadn’t been brave enough to suggest they meet up on campus, in case someone recognized him, but he did tell Danny he went to Gotham U also. He was glad that Danny didn’t push them to meet up there either. Maybe he was just too busy.

As busy as he was, something Danny seemed to love doing was to send photos, all sorts of photos. He sent selfies, sure, but also pictures of the sunsets. Any cute animals he saw (which apparently included the campus crows he was befriending) and his cooking attempts. Pictures of the bikes and cars he worked on as well as his own beast.

Tim hadn’t been able to help but wonder if Danny would let Alvin bend him over the Frankenstein of a bike that Danny was building and fuck him.

They hadn’t gotten around to talking about the things that Danny liked and if being on that end of an encounter was one of them. They really hadn’t talked about anything sexual other than one night when Tim hadn’t been able to sleep (like too many nights) and Danny had called him. Tim had almost fumbled the phone when it started ringing.

Instead of trying to suggest all the usual things like warm milk or relaxing from the toe tips up, Danny had talked Tim through finger himself. Danny’s low words and firm instructions—including making Tim wait—were a contrast to Tim’s own begging that Danny insisted he wanted to hear.

Tim had been almost asleep by the time there was the bitten back moan of Danny coming too.

While Tim could think of a hundred ways to start the conversation, none of them seemed the right way to explain that it wasn’t just ‘Lin’ and Caroline, but also Alvin. And what Alvin wanted was to fuck Danny until he was begging and then fuck him all over again. (And maybe again.) It felt like being dishonest with Danny and that ate at Tim, especially as they started to see each other in person again.

Danny reached out across the table and laid his hand down, palm up.

It was such a little thing, but the simple consideration warmed Tim. Danny was letting Tim choose if he wanted to hold Danny’s hand right then. When Caroline and Danny had been out on a date, Danny had just wrapped his fingers loosely up in hers time and time again. But with Tim, Danny acted differently. Danny acted like he got it.

Tim reached out and traced his fingers over the lines of Danny’s palm.

“What’s bothering you?”

Tim glanced up across the table. “Hum?”

“Somethings bothering you,” Danny said, more a repeat than a clarification, though he wasn’t wrong. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tim bought himself some time by taking a long sip of his drink. He knitted his fingers with Danny’s.

“So, Caroline and I… we’re…”

How did Tim talk about any of this? He hadn’t before, not to anyone. His caped friends and family just thought of Caroline and Alvin as covers. Out of the capes… he didn’t think they thought about Caroline and Alvin at all. Why would they? Tim wasn’t exactly the most gender normal so if he was a little more fem or masc why would they catch on that it was less about Tim and more about… well, someone else?

“Dissociative Disorder, right?” Danny asked after a long silence. “Which I know, I really hate the word disorder in that. Caroline isn’t some disorder, she’s an important part of you. But it’s not exactly standard DID because you keep some memories when you’re her, right? Sorry, my sister is a psychologist so I did a little looking into things.”

“I, yes,” Tim agreed with a blink. That sounded like what he’d found in his research too. He knew he should bring this up to his therapist, but, well, he had wanted more information first. It helped him feel more settled. (He felt anything but settled right then.) “I guess because I do remember, I didn’t always think of her as… separate as I’ve been realizing she is.”

“Okay,” Danny said patiently. “Is there anything you need me to do differently now that you have? Or anything I can do to make either of you more comfortable?”

Tim couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head. “No, you’ve been really great, with both of us.”

Danny nodded, what little of his own tension there had been from the conversation practically evaporated from his shoulders.

Tim looked down at their hands. “It’s just… it’s because of that. You’ve been so great with both Caroline and me that I feel horrible that—it’s just… there’s one more? And I don’t know if that’s going to be too much for you entirely. Because I would totally understand, this is a lot already without dealing with Alvin too and—”

“Hey, Lin, take a breath for me, darlin’,” Danny urged with a soft squeeze of their hands. “It’s okay, I’m still right here.”

Tim took a breath and then a few more for good measure.

“What you’re saying is that there’s Lin, Caroline, and also Alvin?”

Tim nodded.

“Okay. Okay… does… do you know what Alvin thinks of this? Of me? Is he okay with it?”

Tim buried his now bright red face in his free hand. “Yes.”

“Um, I’ll take that as not bad—”

“He wants to jump your bones. Very emphatically. Repeatedly,” Tim mumbled into his palm.

Danny was silent for a long moment until he started to laugh. “Ancients, okay, I’m sorry just, oh boy. That’s—” Danny tried to breathe around his laughter. “—am I like catnip to all three of you? What do you all see in me?”

Tim watched Danny’s laughter fade with at first shock and then fondness. “Because of this. I tell you that there’s a third and the first thing you worry about is if he’s okay with you.”

“Well, yeah,” Danny says, as if it really should be that simple. “I don’t want to break up with you or Caroline because Alvin hates me.”

What a wonderful, ridiculous man.

“Then you’d be… okay to meet him sometime? Or text with him?”

“Of course. I can’t promise he and I will have what we have or Caroline and I have, not when I don’t know the guy, but I think considering how I feel about you two the chance is there. And if even not, him and I should get to know each other, right?”

“Right,” Tim said, finally able to smile. “I’ll make sure he has your number. And I guess for the last thing… my real name is Tim. And… and to be honest I was a little wary of telling you my legal name that morning, in case things went badly. But I’m also trying to figure… myself out I guess. And Lin maybe fits? It’s got a bit of Caroline and Alvin in it. But I don’t know if that’s right either, maybe it’s just trying to rely on them too much. I don’t really know a lot, I guess.”

Danny just shrugged with a little smile. “Who really does? What do you want to be called today, sweetheart, Lin or Tim?”

Tim took a moment to actually think about that and ignore his blush at being called ‘sweetheart’. He didn’t know what the right answer was, but maybe that just meant he needed more data. “Let’s… let’s try Tim today.”

“Tim,” Danny said with a grin. He seemed to just be able to take everything with a grin; it was amazing. “So, do I want to know why you sent me a picture of a turkey this morning?”

“I was paying you back for all the animal photos you send me. He’s my little brother’s.”

Danny tilted his head. “Your brother… has a turkey?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

Tim shrugged. “He’s weird. And I don’t mean like, normal weird in a nerdy way or very awkward. He’s just weird weird. One of those weird things is his pets.”

“Huh,” Danny said again. “What’s a pet turkey even like?”

“Loud and mean. But he does like to show off for pictures, so I figured I’d send you one. I was home, well, not where I live home, but you know what I mean—” Danny nodded to Tim’s words. “—to drop something off before I headed this way.”

They both leaned back as their food arrived and thanked the server. Silence settled over them as they got distracted by food. Tim took a large bite of his pokerito, chewing and swallowing before he made himself ask, “Do you have any siblings?”

He was bad at it, but he was really trying to get to know Danny properly. (And without just looking him up.)

(Or stalking.)

“An older sister and kinda a little sister? Which sound weird I guess but…”

“No, I get weird families, trust me. Like, I’m not related to any of mine,” Tim said.

Danny smiled gratefully at the easy acceptance, as if Tim wouldn’t after everything that Danny accepted about him. “They are. And, well, so are my sisters, but I love them. I don’t get to see them too much anymore. My oldest sister is out in Washington, the state not the city, and the younger travels a lot. She’s basically nomadic. She’s never been anywhere longer than a year. I like traveling some, but I don’t think I could ever do that. What about you, have you always lived in the Gotham area?”

“Basically. I did some study aboard—” in fighting, but whatever, “—but Gotham has aways been home. The city is basically in my blood at this point.”

“And knowing Gotham, some of your blood is in it too,” Danny quipped.

Tim gave an undignified little snort took another bite of his food to avoid saying anything snarky back. More of his blood was in the streets and buildings of Gotham than Danny would ever know or understand. “You’re from the Midwest somewhere, right?”

Danny gave one of his crooked little smiles that Tim was so fond of. “Is my accent still that obvious?”

“No, not really,” Tim assured him. “Picking out accents is just something that I’m good at. I mean, sure most people wouldn’t think you’re from here, but mostly you just sound ambiguously American."

“I guess I’ll take what I can,” Danny said. “But yeah I grew up in the great state of misery.”

Tim covered a laugh with a sip of his drink. “Missouri can’t have been that bad.”

“Naw, there were good parts—mostly my friends—but I’m glad to be gone. There was enough that I didn’t like or that made bad memories,” Danny said with a little shrug and smile.

“And Gotham’s treating you well?”

“You know, it is,” Danny said. “I’ve got an interesting job, my own place, school is going, and it lead me to you.”

“I mean, well, it lead you to Caroline,” Tim mumbled as he tried valiantly not to blush. By the way Danny grinned, the smile just slightly smug, Tim figured he had failed pretty badly.

“And I got a two for one deal out of it.” Danny paused and then continued. “At least a two for one deal. Maybe a three for one. Where else can someone get that sort of luck?”

This time, Tim couldn’t even try to hide his laughter. “That how you see it?”

Danny grinned back. “Yep, but in a totally not crude way. I just think that I’m pretty lucky.”

“I don’t know, in Gotham being messed up like this might put me one bad day from becoming a rogue.”

“Hey, no, you’re not messed up,” Danny said firmly, all of his humor disappearing. “You and Caroline and Alvin might be different, but you are not messed up. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Tim glanced up at Danny from under his bangs. “Even though I’m not sure who I really am?”

“Even then. I think that most people don’t know who they are yet in college. You’re just taking it to the extreme.”

That made Tim laugh: the sort of laughter that threatened to turn into tears and leave Tim’s stomach aching. It had been a really long time since he’d laughed like that.

“If you ask anyone of the people who know me best, they’d tell you I tend to take everything to the extreme.”

“I know that too, I’ve slept with you,” Danny said with a wolfish smile that made Tim flush.

“That does not count as knowing,” Tim defended.

Danny just smiled wider and gave a little shrug. “Well, then that’s why we go on dates. I’ll know you well enough before long.”

“I hope you don’t come to regret that.” Tim hoped he sounded more teasing than worried.

By the way that Danny’s expression softened sadly Tim guessed he didn’t manage.

“Not going to pretend we’re a sure thing. We don’t know each other well enough to claim that,” Danny said. “But I try not to regret things in life, it just leads to a lot of being miserable about the past that you can’t change. If we don’t work out, that won’t have stopped me from enjoying the time that we have had. That won’t make me regret it.”

Tim blinked. “I think you might be smarter than a lot of people I know.”

Danny laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. I’ve just learned a lot about life early on, whether I wanted to or not. I might as well get something out of it.”

“That sounds like the same thing as being wise to me,” Tim said. He felt almost defensive about Danny thinking poorly of himself like that.

“Well, thanks darling,” Danny mumbled with a blush and a duck of his head.

Tim took that as basically a win and went back to eating happily. He might not be able to do as much for Danny as Danny was doing for them, but he could at least try and let Danny know how great he was. Plus Danny’s blush was cute.

-

“Look a little like a murder den,” Tim commented as Danny lead them down the few steps to a basement apartment door. His words didn’t stop him though. If it was a murder den, he could handle it.

“It’s not a murder den,” Danny said. Clear amusement laced his words.

“Basement, dark street, no sign, blacked out windows… murder den.”

“Gotham rent prices, the street light is just out, you missed the sign, there’s a reason. Not a murder den.”

Tim frowned (just a little). “I don’t miss things.”

“I was kissing you.”

“Okay,” Tim said after a long pause, “maybe I miss some things.”

“I’m a good distraction,” Danny said smugly. He held open the door for them and stepped back.

It was almost like a portal into another world, one full of neon lights, electronic noises, and the most wonderfully hideous carpet that Tim had ever seen.

“An arcade?”

“An arcade,” Danny said and followed Tim inside. “It pretty much spans some machines from the heyday of arcades through the nineties and just into the early aughts with this ancient DDR pad over in the back.”

“It smells like dirty quarters, popcorn, and machine oil in here.”

“Yep.”

“It’s perfect.”

A pleased grin broke out across Danny’s features. He pulled out a ten out from his wallet and held it out towards Tim. “Then let’s get some quarters and start playing. I bet that I can kick your ass at Primal Rage.”

Tim snatched the bill with a smirk. “Maybe, but you have no chance against me in street fighter.”

“Get your quarters then and we’ll see, won’t we?”

The jostled each other as they both ran a ten through the change machine and collected the change in the slightly battered novelty cups that were stacked next to it. The clang of the quarters were soothing, in a weirdly disharmonious way, as they made an exploratory circuit of the arcaded and pointed out games that they might want to play later. The place did have a pretty nice variety, for all that the cabinets and machines were basically crammed side by side in the arcade.

They did end up at the Primal Rage machine first, where Tim proceeded to have his character brutally eviscerate by Danny’s raptor character.

“Wow.”

“We had this machine back where I grew up. My friend Tucker and I used to play it all the time,” Danny explained with a proud little smirk as he switched to the weird snake necked dinosaur.

Tim, giving up on dino kind, selected the ape. “Was little Danny a nerd?”

“Complete nerd,” Danny said. “Played video games, fascinated with NASA, two mad scientist parents; I was truly the bottom of the food chain. The jocks and popular kids sure let me know it too.”

“Bullies?” Tim asked sympathetically.

“Specifically one. Looking back I actually think that he had some toxic shit going on with his dad, masculinity, and probably his sexuality.”

“That doesn’t mean how he acted was alright,” Tim said. His character flew across the screen, trailing blood.

“Nope. But I can at least see a why. Besides, it was basically a life time ago now,” Danny said calmly while his win flashed up on screen. “I’m happy where I ended up.”

Tim leaned over to press a kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Good. Now come let’s go play Street Fighter so I can kick your ass as Chun-Li.”

Danny pretended to swoon, hands over his heart. “Ah, to have my ass kicked by a hot woman.”

“I don’t need to hear about your and Caroline’s sex life,” Tim said with a fake shudder that earned him a bark of laughter from Danny.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m happy to have my ass kicked by a cute guy too.”

“You better be,” Tim said. “I think I’m morally obligated to take you to a gym on a date now.”

Danny pulled Tim into his arms, pressed Tim back against an arcade cabinet. “Hot, sweaty, pinned under you… I’m not going to complain.”

“Bet not,” Tim said with a quick peck to Danny’s lips. “But games now. It you get enough tickets to get me that hideous, knock-off Robin plushy I’ll blow you in the bathroom.

It was to watch Danny’s eyes dilate at the suggestion. He abandoned pinning Tim to tug them along. “Well, come on. After you kick my ass in Street Fighter, you’ll get to see a true master at skee ball.”

“Oh this I have to see.”

“Damn right you do,” Danny said with a wink and a blown kiss.

Tim found himself laughing yet again that day, and so glad for the man who kept making it happen.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

PORN DIRECTOR KÖNIG

nsfw. perverted older man. come eating. pussy slapping. voyeurism. manhandling. degradation. squirting. stomach bulge. sex work. unsafe sex. unrealistic sex. nasty.

you never planned on doing porn.

you don't think anyone does, really. you had a whole different life mapped out— degree, stable job, retirement.

but college was bleeding you dry. bills stacked faster than you could pay them, textbooks cost more than your monthly groceries, and your financial aid office had the efficiency of a broken vending machine. part-time jobs barely kept the lights on. dinner was whatever was cheap and lasted the longest.

you worked, studied, scraped by, but it felt more like drowning in slow motion.

camming started as an experiment. a shot in the dark born from desperation.

you bought a cheap ring light from amazon, found a secondhand webcam on facebook marketplace, and set up your little filming space in the corner of your apartment. it was nothing fancy. the lighting was bad, the camera wasn’t great, and instead of a tripod you had a stack of books.

but it worked.

you slipped into the only matching lingerie set you owned— soft pink lace, delicate ribbons, tiny bows stitched in all the right places. sheer enough to tease, but still leaving just enough to the imagination. the bra straps slipped down your shoulders as you posed in front of the mirror, lips parted, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

picking the best ones, you captioned them with something playful then posted them to onlyfans, shut your laptop, and forgot about it. you weren’t expecting much. maybe a few subscribers, a little extra cash, nothing major.

then, your account blew up.

someone with a bit of reach had apparently found your photos and posted them to a a ddlg subreddit, and suddenly you were everywhere.

at first, you didn’t notice. but when you woke up to hundreds of new notifications, dms, and tips flooding in overnight, you started digging.

that’s when you saw it. a post on reddit. thousands of upvotes. hundreds of comments dissecting your photos in excruciating detail.

[r/ddlg] found this new onlyfans girl and i'm losing my mind. she’s so soft. look at her. look at her.

🔺14.3k upvotes 💬 793 comment

u/daddysfavorite456: this is the most perfect little babygirl i’ve ever seen wtf

🔺6.2k

u/sirspanksalot: the way she’s tugging her panties down just a little… i need a moment

🔺4.9k

u/subsugarplum: her little pout in the third pic is actually ruining my life

🔺3.3k

u/softdom_daddy: how do we make sure she never pays for anything again in her life?

🔺7.1k

your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled. every detail of your photos was being analyzed. obsessed over.

the way you tilted your head just slightly, eyes wide and doe-like. the way your fingers curled in the hem of your panties, like you were hesitating. like you needed permission. the little pout in the last photo, lower lip caught between your teeth, the faintest furrow in your brows.

suddenly, your subscriber count was doubling by the hour.

new subscribers flooded in overnight. your follower count jumped by thousands. dms piled up, requests, tips, compliments, outright begging.

"you're perfect. please let me take care of you." ($20 tip)

"you’re the softest little thing i’ve ever seen." ($50 tip)

"tell me you do custom videos. i’ll pay whatever." ($100 tip)

the sudden influx of attention was overwhelming. you barely had time to process it before people were demanding more.

demand skyrocketed. they were practically clawing at your metaphorical door, begging for more content, more variety— more, more, more.

for now, solo work was fine. it was safe. comfortable. easy to control. but you knew it wouldn’t be enough forever. you saw it in the comments, in the messages, in the ever-growing list of requests. they wanted more than just you and a camera. they wanted another presence. another body in the frame.

you debated your options. a studio would be the safest bet. you had the budget now— painstakingly built, every small tip, every renewal adding up until you finally had enough that you didn't need to comprise comfort.

but finding the right studio was another thing entirely.

you didn’t want the overproduced, garish lights and cheap theatrics of mainstream porn. you wanted subtlety. intimacy. something with taste. good lighting, soft edits, angles that captured the feeling rather than just the act.

something that matched the persona you had so carefully built.

you thought about it for weeks before finally bringing it up to valeria, a girl you often had collabs with.

she tilted her head when you mentioned it. "professional production..? you know there are a lot of seedy guys out there."

you nodded, worrying your lip between your teeth. you’d done enough research to know that most so-called "professional" setups were just glorified scams, with sleazy directors who treated performers like props.

valeria watched you for a second, then clicked her tongue. "but, if you ever actually follow through, i know a guy. a lot of the girls have worked with him before. big name in the business. respects his actors. good guy." she pulled out her phone. "i’ll send you his portfolio. put in a good word."

you meet könig a few weeks later, after countless back-and-forth emails, late-night calls hammering out details, discussions about setups, plot points, pricing. every conversation had been strictly professional so far and you appreciated the distinct lack of attempts to try and get in your pants.

you don’t expect to spot him the moment you step into the airbnb you rented for the shoot, but there he is, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crew. and the first thing that strikes you isn’t his height (though jesus, he’s massive). it’s how out of place he looks.

he doesn’t carry himself like someone in the industry. doesn’t exude that easy sleaze, that over-familiar smirk you’ve come to expect from men in this business. no tight black tee straining over biceps, no carefully curated air of supremacy with just a hint of nicotine.

instead, he looks like someone’s dad who got lost on his way to a hardware store and somehow ended up in the adult industry instead.

his glasses are perched high on the bridge of his nose, pushed up with the absentminded shove of a knuckle. his sweater— soft, thick, comfortable— hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with silver hair. he’s dressed like he should be standing at a backyard grill, not directing an erotic film.

he’s older than you expected. forty, according to his portfolio, and he wears it well. silver threading through black, crow’s feet at the corners of sharp, washed-out blue eyes. his nose is crooked— like it had been broken once and never quite set right— makes his face look lived-in, a little rough around the edges. his stubble is light, a soft dusting of salt and pepper.

he looks warm.

he’s talking to someone. one of the crew, maybe, head dipped slightly, listening intently. but even hunched, even relaxed, his sheer size makes him loom.

and then the door clicks shut behind you, and he hears it. könig's head lifts, pale blue eyes settling on you in an instant.

he excuses himself with a quiet murmur. hands tucked into the front pocket of his pants, broad shoulders rolling slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, less imposing.

it doesn’t work.

“good to finally meet you,” he says, accent curling soft in his words.

oh, you think. you hadn’t expected that, either.

his voice is deep, just shy of being harsh. it's a far cry from the sharp tone you’d imagined after hearing him speak over the phone. there’s something smoother about it in person, a warmth undercutting the rough edges.

you shift the tray of coffee in your hands, balancing it carefully before setting it down on the small folding table near the entrance.

“brought coffee for everyone,” you say, wringing your hands because you refuse to brush them off on your dress.

he glances down at the cups, and for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.

“thoughtful,” he murmurs, and though his face remains unreadable, you can hear the approval in his voice. something warm curls in your stomach at that.

you exhale, trying to shake off the nervous energy thrumming in your chest, and clear your throat. “figured caffeine would help. don’t wanna be the reason your crew collapses mid-shoot.”

könig huffs something close to a chuckle, tipping his head toward the set-up behind him. “they’ve worked under worse conditions.”

you’re not sure what that means, but before you can ask, he gestures for you to follow him further into the space.

the next few minutes are easy. professional. you go over the shot list, the angles he’s planning, how he likes to work— efficient and minimal retakes unless absolutely necessary. he asks about your preferences, what you don’t want, what you do.

it’s…comfortable. smoother than you expected. he’s patient, but direct. no wasted words, no unnecessary small talk, just the work. you like that.

and then your phone rings.

you pull it from your pocket without thinking, glancing at the name on the screen.

simon riley. your co-star. you press accept, bringing the phone to your ear.

“hey, you on your way?” you ask, already stepping away from könig, mind half on the conversation you’d just been having.

but simon doesn’t answer right away. there’s a beat of silence. “can’t make it.”

your stomach drops. you stop short, your pulse spiking. “what?”

“somethin’ came up. won’t be able to get there.”

you glance at könig, your breath stalling in your throat. this cannot be happening.

“simon, i can’t reschedule,” you hiss, stepping further away, out of earshot. “i already paid for the location, the crew’s already here-”

“nothin’ i can do, sweetheart,” he says, not unkind. “’m sorry.”

but sorry doesn’t fix this. sorry doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t shoot today, you’re out thousands.

your grip tightens around your phone. “simon, please-”

but the line clicks. he’s gone. panic creeps up your spine, cold sweat starting to form on your palms. you can’t not shoot today. you can’t afford it. the budget’s already stretched thin, and a reschedule isn’t just inconvenient— it’s impossible.

you drag a hand through your hair, swallowing hard.

könig’s eyes are on you and you can feel the heat of his gaze. when you turn, he asks, “problem?”

you open your mouth, hesitate. because what the fuck are you supposed to say? every option you can think of results in you losing a few hundred dollars at the minimum.

“simon's out.”

könig watches as your fingers tighten around your phone, knuckles turning white. you press your lips together, trembling just slightly before biting down, like you’re trying to hold yourself together by sheer force of will.

he tilts his head, slow. "know anyone that can sub in?"

you shake your head immediately, too fast, too frantic. a sharp inhale makes your shoulders rise, lashes fluttering against the unshed tears that suddenly gloss your eyes.

fuck.

you’re going to cry.

könig shouldn’t be looking this closely.

shouldn’t be cataloging every shift of your body. the quickening of your breath, the rise and fall of your chest. shouldn’t be tracking how your throat works as you swallow, how the delicate line of your jaw tenses under pressure.

it’s detail he shouldn’t register. detail that has no purpose. no place. no right to send his thoughts careening somewhere they have no business going.

but they go there anyway.

because he's been watching you.

not in a way that's creepy— könig tells himself that, over and over. he was just a professional doing his research, getting a feel for his clients. it’s good business practice, staying informed, making sure he knows who he’s working with, what they bring to the table.

and if that research led him to your socials, to hours of footage in soft, honeyed lighting, to endless clips of you sprawled out on pristine white sheets as you mewled into the camera— well. that was just part of the job, wasn’t it?

nothing personal. certainly nothing unprofessional.

but the truth, the thing he never says out loud, not even to himself is that he’s spent far too many nights with his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, watching you through the screen.

watching you in those tiny lingerie sets. pink and white lace, frilly little bows, the kind of girlish softness that makes his teeth ache.

könig's watched every fucking video. every stream. every post. hours spent with his laptop open, pants shoved down around his hips, hand working his cock as you bat your lashes and moan so sweetly it makes his head spin.

‘am i a good girl?’ you breathe into the mic, like you’re talking right to him. like you know.

and god, does he know you.

he’s studied you. learned you. mapped out every twitch, every tell, every fleeting flicker of pleasure that crosses your pretty face. the way your brows pinch together when you’re getting desperate. the way your lips part right before you come, glossy and swollen, tongue darting out to wet them like you want something in your mouth, like you’re inviting someone to grab you by the jaw and fuck your throat until you can’t think.

he’s seen how your thighs start to tremble when you edge yourself too long. how your back arches off the sheets when you finally let go, hips rolling into your own hand, breath catching in your throat as you fall apart in a mess of shuddery gasps.

könig has jerked off to all of it.

not just once. not just twice.

so many times he’s lost count.

sometimes slow, drawing it out to hear that little whimper you make at the end— the one that sounds like you’ve been fucked dumb.

sometimes rough. desperate. chasing his own release with one hand fisted in the sheets and the other pumping his cock.

it drives him fucking crazy.

it’s worse up close. worse when you shift on your feet, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, trying to hold yourself together.

stop.

he clenches his fists. drags in a breath through his nose. he is not some fucking rookie. not some kid who can’t keep his head straight.

but then you make a sound that crawls under his skin and sinks deep. and suddenly his thoughts are careening somewhere they shouldn’t go—

places where that breathy little sound is choked out against his palm. where those fingers twisting at your sleeves are scrabbling at his belt instead, pulling, fumbling, desperate.

his cock twitches.

jesus christ.

it’s perverse. it’s wrong. twenty years between you. he shouldn't even be thinking about you like this. but then he thinks about how small your hands would look trying to wrap around his cock. how easily he could press you up against the nearest wall, let you feel how bad he wants you, let you know exactly what you do to him—

and yeah.

he’s fucked.

his grip tightens on the coffee cup, knuckles white, cardboard crumpling in his palm.

"we can reschedule." it’s the logical thing to say. the right thing.

but you stiffen immediately, shaking your head almost violently, like the mere suggestion hurts.

"i can’t." your voice wobbles. "i don’t have the budget for it. the airbnb, the crew- if we don’t shoot today, it’s done. i lose it."

he can hear the distraught in your voice, the panic creeping in, rising in your throat. and könig— könig has never been good at ignoring that kind of thing.

his jaw tightens. his fingers flex. his pulse pounds in his ears. and before he can think better of it—

"i can do it."

your head jerks up, eyes locking onto his. wide. startled.

"what?"

könig lifts a broad shoulder, deceptively casual, ignoring how his pulse is hammering in his throat. acting as if he didn’t just offer himself up like it was nothing.

"i can do it," he repeats. "you need a scene partner."

he pauses, just long enough to make sure you’re really listening before he adds, pointed: "i’ve done worse for less."

it’s true too. könig had started shooting for money, not for passion, not for art. there were years where he took any job that paid, no matter how grimy, no matter how degrading. no dignity in it, no careful framing, no thoughtful direction. just harsh lighting, rough hands, the sound of too many bodies shifting in too little space.

it’s not like that anymore.

now, he works for himself. he makes art, in his own way. he only takes projects that meet his standards, only shoots what he knows will look good.

and this, you, would look incredible.

"are you-" you swallow hard, throat working, voice tight. "you’re serious?"

könig lets out a short, amused breath, tilting his head. "wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t."

your gaze flickers down to his mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.

he notices. of course he fucking notices.

you hesitate, worrying your lip between your teeth, and he wants— god, he wants.

he lifts his coffee, takes a slow sip. watches you.

"think it through," he says, letting the accent curl around the words. "do you trust me?"

you stare at him, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. your fingers tighten around your phone.

and then, even though you probably shouldn't, you nod.

this is insane, is all you can think as your hands smooth down the dress, fingertips catching on the fabric’s delicate weave. it sways when you move, hem teasing the tops of your thighs.

the crew picked it because it feels normal, something someone’s wife might wear on a lazy sunday, waiting for her husband to walk through the door. not lingerie, not tight or short or scandalous. innocent.

somehow, that makes it worse.

the set sprawls before you, carefully crafted to mimic home. the couch sits comfortably worn— or at least looks like it, upholstery creased just enough to suggest years of use. a blanket lies draped over the back, fringes brushed out to seem effortless.

the coffee table holds small artifacts of a life: a half-empty mug with a faint lipstick stain, a book splayed open, pages curled, a pair of keys glinting under the warm overhead glow. off to the side, a framed photo perches, two strangers caught in mid-laugh, frozen happiness you’re supposed to claim as yours.

the lighting bathes it all in amber. soft, forgiving. like sunset spilling through a window that doesn’t exist. everything is designed to feel. to pull the viewer into a scene that isn’t real but wants to be. warmth. comfort. longing.

your pulse trips. nerves coil tight under your. stepping out, you inhale–

and there he is.

könig stands beside the couch, posture loose, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something. the uniform strains against him, fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders and the solid line of his chest. it’s glaringly obvious that it wasn’t tailored for a man like him— you doubt anything ever is— but he wears it like it belongs to him anyway. the belt grips a tapered waist, dog tags resting cold against his sternum. they glint when he shifts, catching the warmth of the lights.

he’s big. that part you knew. everyone knows. but there’s something about seeing him like this, the bulk of him filling the space, boots planted, arms crossed, sleeves clinging to thick forearms, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

he looks like he could hold the world in his hands. break it if he wanted.

then he lifts his head. and his gaze finds you.

it hits like a physical weight, gravity pulling you closer.

his eyes track the line of your body. starting from your face, drifting down, and back up again. for a moment you assume he’s taking inventory, cataloguing details you didn’t know you were offering.

your skin prickles under the attention. heat pooling low, spreading outwards.

könig’s jaw shifts. a muscle ticks. his fingers flex where they rest against his bicep, knuckles pale for half a second before he eases them loose.

you swallow. "do i look okay?"

silence stretches. then: "you look perfect."

his voice sounds like it's been scraped raw from something you can’t name. and you know you shouldn’t take his words to heart. shouldn’t make something out of nothing. he was just being polite—

but god, he doesn’t stop looking.

you breathe out. "are we ready?"

that seems to snap him out. könig exhales, nostrils flaring. “yeah," he says, looking away.. "we’re ready."

you nod and he turns, clapping his hands together.

"quiet on set!" his voice cuts through the chatter. "lights- ready? camera?"

a muffled ‘rolling!’ comes from behind the equipment.

he glances back, stepping into place. "sound?"

"speed!"

he nods, shoulders shifting under the snug uniform. "all right. action on me. three... two..."

his gaze flickers forward, locks onto you. his hand lifts, a silent ‘ready?’

you nod.

"action!"

the front door creaks open.

you see him first— broad shoulders filling the doorway, boots heavy against the worn rug you picked out last fall. his bag drops with a dull thump, keys jangling, and for a beat, you just stand there, watching.

it doesn't feel real. something out of a dream. your husband looks older somehow. tired. lines carved a little deeper around his eyes, hair at his temples brushed with more gray than before.

it's longer now too, the ends curling where sweat and travel have left it mussed.

then his gaze lifts, blue catching yours. and that’s all it takes.

you move.

your feet carry you faster than you realize, dress fluttering against your legs as you throw yourself into him.

könig catches you with a small grunt, part effort, part relief, hardly moving from his spot. strong arms close around you as he lifts you off the floor with an ease that's almost unfair.

his hand finds the back of your thigh, fingers splayed wide. "easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice rough from disuse, deepened by exhaustion and age. there’s an edge to it, earned from years of barking orders and nicotine abuse. "still getting old, you know."

you huff a breath that’s almost a laugh. "you’re not that old."

"hm." könig presses his face into your hair. "tell that to my back."

your chest tightens. god, you missed him. missed the way he smells— soap, leather, that faint trace of cologne you’d tucked into his bag months ago, almost worn off, but still miraculously there. you press your nose to his neck, breathing him in, and whisper, "missed you."

"missed you more." when he pulls back, his gaze traces every line of your face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "lemme take a good look at you, baby."

heat blooms in your cheeks, but you let him. there’s something reverent about his gaze when you meet his eyes.

then, he kisses you.

and fuck.

it’s messy. warm. his mouth is rough against yours, stubble scraping your skin, tasting like coffee burned down to the dregs.

"god," you breathe, voice catching on a gasp. "i love you."

könig chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. "love you too," he murmurs, using that voice he saves for early mornings when you’re tucked against him, trading lazy kisses and whispered secrets.

his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you close. the world tilts, narrows, until there’s nothing but him. his body, his breath, the scratch of his stubble when he tilts his head, brushing his nose against yours.

then his fingers slip under your dress. his breath hitches the moment he finds you bare, his touch grazing soft folds, sticky and warm with slick.

"no panties?" his voice dips somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

heat blooms in your stomach. you bite your lip, shrugging. "figured you'd appreciate it."

his gaze darkens, blue eclipsed by black. "oh, do i."

könig’s fingers slide between your folds, dragging through the slick mess you’ve already made. you flinch at the contact, hips twitching toward him before you can catch yourself.

he pushes it in, slow. the stretch punches a gasp out of you, walls fluttering around the intrusion. he pauses, ignores your whine, brows drawing together, finger knuckle-deep. "did you get tighter?"

his voice is soft, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you, words slipping out under his breath.

his finger curls, pressing snug against your walls, testing just how much resistance it meets.

you whimper, thighs twitching, nails digging into the fabric of his jacket. "m-maybe if you fucked me more, i wouldn’t be."

the words tumble out before you can think to stop them. your pulse skips as you process what you just said. heat floods your face.

könig’s head tilts. his eyes flick up, narrowing, — not angry, not exactly— but his stare steals the breath from your lungs all the same. your lips part, trying to fumble out an apology stuck at the back of your throat when—

slap.

he pulls his finger free and smacks your pussy.

you squeak, body jerking as the sting blooms quick and hot between your legs, warmth spreading through your skin, rushing up your spine. you’re caught between shock and the low, simmering heat that pools in your belly.

"careful," könig warns although his tone is deceptively light. his fingers tap against your clit in soft, featherlight pulses of teasing pressure that makes your thighs jump. "keep that attitude and i’ll slap this pretty little thing five times. make you count every single one. s’that what you want?"

your cunt clenches, slick dribbling down to coat his knuckles. he feels it, of course he does. feels how your body betrays you, responding before your mind can catch up.

chest heaving, you shake your head, breath shivering out of you. "no-"

"no?" he echoes a soft mockery, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs, spreading it just to hear the wet sound it makes echo in the space between you. "then behave, sweetheart. don’t make me teach you."

your heart pounds, breath coming in little gasps as you offer him a jerky nod. könig only watches with lazy half-lidded eyes.

"now," he murmurs, finger filling you again. "gonna ask one more time. have you gotten tighter..." his thumb brushes your clit, just enough to make you twitch, "...or have i just left you empty for too long?"

heat surges through you. your hands clutch at his jacket, grounding yourself in the weight of him. your face burns.

"you were gone for so long," you whisper, voice small, shame curling in your stomach.

he sighs. something in his gaze softens, guilt threading through his voice. "i know, baby." his forehead presses against yours. “missed you too."

you sniffle, nuzzling into his shoulder. "y-you can’t go away that long again..." the words tremble, cracking at the edges.

he kisses your temple, breath warm against your skin. "i won’t," he lies, gentle. "let me stretch you out, yeah?"

könig guides you further into your home, coaxing you down on the couch. könig kneels between your legs, broad hands spreading you open and drinking in the sight of you laid out before him.

"look at you," he murmurs, thumb dragging through your folds, gathering your slick up to rub slow circles against your clit. "so wet for me already. miss having me inside, huh?"

your fingers clutch at the cushions as he begins to fill you, head tipping back. "yes-"

"you gotta watch, pretty," könig interrupts, fingers tilting your chin back down.

your gaze drops, breath catching when you see it— his thick fingers buried deep inside you, slick dribbling down his knuckles. the gold band around his finger shines beneath the mess you’ve made, drenched, the sight obscene and somehow more intimate than you’re prepared for. your walls flutter around him, clenching down like your body’s desperate to keep him there.

"look at that.” he grind. "look at your cute little cunny... makin’ a mess all over me."

your cheeks burn. you squirm, trying to close your thighs, but his other hand tightens on your hip, keeping you spread. "no hiding," he says. "told you to watch."

so you do.

you watch the slow drag of his fingers pulling out, coated in slick that strings between you. your cunt clenches around nothing, throbbing, and you let out a soft, desperate whimper. könig hums, pleased, pressing the pads of his fingers against your entrance again, rubbing slow, lazy circles that make your thighs twitch.

"look how well you take me," he says, dragging against that spot inside that makes your vision blur.

you whimper, head spinning, hips grinding down onto his hand. "feels so good-"

"yeah?" he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "gonna let me in now, sweetheart? let me fill you up nice and slow?"

you nod, frantic, words lost to the heat coiling low in your stomach. könig smiles, pulling his fingers free. you whine at the loss, walls fluttering, already aching for him again.

"shh," he soothes, wiping his slick-covered fingers against the head of his cock, spreading you over himself. "gonna take care of you. just lay back and be good for me, yeah?"

his hands grip your thighs, pressing them up toward your chest, folding you beneath him. your skin burns under the pressure, nerves sparking with every shift of his weight.

the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance. he’s patient, achingly so— dragging it along your folds, gathering your slick, smearing it along his length until you’re soaked enough to take him. or so he thinks.

könig’s gaze drops to where you’re spread open for him. "ready to be stuffed full?"

your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle. you nod, breath catching in your throat, but it’s barely a sound, barely a thought when he starts to press in.

he breaches you, the thick crown of his cock pushing past your entrance, molten-hot and unforgiving.

your cunt clenches on instinct, trying to force him out, but könig presses on.

every inch feels like fire licking up your spine, burning through every nerve until you’re nothing but sensation. too much. not enough. your body wars with itself, torn between squirming away and pulling him in deeper.

"gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. "stretch you out every day i’m home-" he drives forward another inch, making your back arch, "-’til this pretty cunt just opens up for me."

you can’t speak. can’t think. everything narrows down to the drag of him inside you, veins and ridges catching on the soft walls of your cunt. your mind spins, vision blurring as your hips jerk, instinctively trying to escape the overwhelming fullness. his fingers bite into your thighs, holding you in place.

"uh-uh," he murmurs, dark amusement curling at the edges of his words. "don’t run, baby. you wanted this."

he braces himself, broad shoulders tense above you as he tries to sink deeper. but even with how wet you are, how pliant you’ve gone beneath him, your body refuses to give.

his hips stutter, pushing, pushing— yet still, there’s that impossible last three inches he can’t force past.

“p-please- need it, need you-” the words spill out.

"i know, baby, i know," he pants, forehead pressing to yours, sweat slick between you.

he pulls back an inch— just enough to drag the thickest part of him along your sensitive walls— before rolling his hips back in. the pressure spikes and you cry out.

"too big," you choke out, voice cracking, eyes glassy with tears.

"yeah?" he drags a hand down to your belly, spreading his fingers over the taut skin where he can feel himself inside you— a thick, obscene bulge pressing up from the inside. "look at that, baby. fuckin’ you so deep you can see me. stretchin’ you so good, huh?"

you glance down, drawing a blank at the sight of your stomach distending.

könig tries to push further, to bottom out, but your cunt clenches stubbornly. frustration twists across his face, the sight of you writhing beneath him, cunt stretched wide and still too tight to take him fully— it’s driving him insane.

"gonna have to fix that," he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

you nod, dazed, tears slipping down your temples as you sob out a choked, "yes- yes, please-"

"shh," könig soothes, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, lips soft against your tear-streaked skin. "you’re doin’ so good, baby. takin’ me so well. just need to open you up a little more, yeah?"

he pulls out slow, then presses back in. your walls flutter, trying to accommodate, stretched tight around him— but those last inches refuse to fit.

he groans, brows furrowing further. “this isn't working-”

könig adjusts his grip, hands sliding beneath your knees, lifting you with ease. before you can even register the shift, he’s pulling you up against his chest, arms hooking beneath your legs, locking you back in a full nelson.

your breath stutters, eyes going wide as your body is left entirely at his mercy, weightless in his grip, spread open around him.

könig’s lips graze your ear. "gonna let gravity help us, yeah? let’s see if this pretty little cunt can take all of me now."

your toes curl, breath hitching as he angles his hips, smearing your slick between you. the position leaves you open, stretched wide, no leverage to resist— not that you would. not with the way your body is shaking, your cunt throbbing, desperate for him.

he groans, voice ragged. "so fuckin’ tight, baby."

then he lets gravity do most of the work.

your breath leaves you in a shattered moan as your body sinks down, forced open as he drops you down on his cock. your walls flutter, clenching around him, stretched impossibly wide, struggling to take him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you squirm away.

"that’s it," könig groans, arms flexing as he holds you still, keeps you spread, forces you to feel every thick inch of him pressing inside. "so fuckin’ good for me, baby. lettin’ me stretch you open- gonna make you take it all."

you whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips, eyes rolling back as the last stubborn inch finally, finally sinks in, his cock seated fully inside you for the first time.

"fuck," könig grits out, forehead pressed to yours. "you feel that? got all of me inside, sweetheart.”

your body twitches in his grip, thighs shaking, stretched wide around him. your cunt clenches, pulsing around his cock, so full you can barely breathe.

he growls, pressing his palm over your belly, feeling the bulge there, feeling how his cock fills you up completely.

"that’s my girl," he murmurs, his voice low and pleased. "knew you could take it, baby. knew you just needed a little help."

könig doesn’t give you much of a chance to adjust. the moment he thinks you're ready, his arms tighten, muscles flexing as he hauls you up, dragging his thick length from your cunt before slamming you back down.

you jolt, body shuddering in his grip, cunt forced to stretch and squeeze around him with every brutal thrust. his strength controls everything— the pace, the depth, the way you bounce like a ragdoll, helpless to slow him down.

"look at you," he groans, lifting you again, letting gravity pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to take every inch. "so fuckin’ small- thought you couldn’t handle it, but here you are, takin’ all of me."

your head tips back, a broken moan spilling from your lips. he’s slamming himself inside, spearing you open over and over, forcing you to stretch wider than you ever have.

your walls spasm, clenching down, but könig just grunts, his grip bruising, dragging you back onto his cock harder, faster.

you can’t keep up. your limbs go slack, muscles useless, brain short-circuiting. your vision blurs, eyes rolling back, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your mouth falls open in a wrecked, silent sob.

könig chuckles, pleased, watching the way you’ve gone completely limp in his arms.

you whimper, trembling, your cunt fluttering around him, soaking his cock, dripping down his thighs.

"so fuckin’ sweet," he murmurs, rolling his hips, grinding deep before slamming you down again. "gonna stretch you out like this every single day. keep you full, fuck you dumb, make sure this little cunt remembers who it belongs to."

he bounces you faster, harder, dragging you down onto his cock like he’s molding you to take him, shaping your cunt to fit his size.

you sob, overstimulated, fucked senseless, but könig only groans, his grip unrelenting as he forces you to keep taking it, to keep bouncing in his arms like his perfect little toy.

your body convulses, overstimulated, wracked with sensation too intense to hold in. könig keeps moving, bouncing you in his grip, fucking you onto his cock like he’s trying to break you apart piece by piece.

"n-no-" your voice barely comes out, wrecked and high, a sob caught in your throat as your fingers claw weakly at his forearms. your legs shake, toes curling, your stomach twisting with unbearable pressure. "k-könig, i-i can’t- gonna-"

he groans, feeling you squeeze tighter around him, your walls clamping down, fluttering, struggling to take him.

"aw, sweetheart," he coos, pressing his hand over your belly, feeling himself there, the thick bulge where his cock fills you up. "gone all dumb on me already? can't even talk, can you?"

you shake your head, eyes welling up, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. "g-gonna pee," you whimper, voice broken, breathless, body locking up, thighs trembling as your hips twitch helplessly.

könig's grip tightens. "no, baby," he soothes, dragging you down harder, grinding the thick head of his cock against that perfect spot inside you. "you’re gonna cum. gonna make a mess all over me, aren't you?"

your sob turns into a choked wail as something snaps inside you. the pressure bursts, your body seizing as pleasure slams through you like a freight train.

you gush, squirting hard, the release almost violent, soaking könig's thighs, dripping down to form a puddle on the floor beneath you.

he groans, hooded eyes watching you fall apart, grip tightening to hold you up as your body jerks and trembles in his arms.

"good girl," he praises, sounding utterly enthralled by the mess you’ve made. his cock twitches inside you, still stretching you wide. "fuckin’ knew you’d soak me- knew you were just a little messy thing."

you sob, breathless, dazed, body slumping against him, muscles useless, the aftershocks still making your cunt flutter weakly around his cock.

könig hums, dragging his fingers through the wetness on his thighs before bringing them up to your lips. "open.” he taps them against your mouth.

you do, lips parting, tongue sliding out obediently, and könig groans, pushing his soaked fingers inside.

"good fuckin’ girl," he murmurs, watching as you suck yourself off him, your body still limp, still trembling, still his to use.

your body barely registers the shift before you’re being turned, manhandled, pressed down against the floor, cheek squished against the slick puddle you just made. the scent of it floods your senses, hot and humiliating, making your skin burn.

"könig-" you whimper, trying to lift yourself, but his broad hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, keeping you open.

he ignores you, fingers digging into your hips, adjusting your position, spreading you wider.

you cry out when he lines himself up and pushes in, stretching you open all over again, stuffing you to the brim with his cock in one deep thrust. your toes curl, your fingers claw at the wet floor beneath you, the slick sound of him sinking into you obscene in the quiet.

"good fuckin’ girl," he groans, dragging his cock out before slamming back in, his thighs slapping against your ass. "just let me use you, yeah? just take it like my perfect little cumdump."

you sob into the mess beneath you, könig presses your face harder against it, his broad palm splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned.

"lick it up," he orders, tone smooth, assured, the kind of voice that expects obedience.

your whole body burns, but the heat between your legs is hotter. könig feels the way you clench around him at the command, the way your body betrays you before your lips can even form a protest.

"kö-”

“don’t make me say it twice, sweetheart," he warns, hips pulling back, dragging his cock out until only the tip stretches you open.

"what’s the matter?" he mocks. "you were so eager to make this mess- now you’re going shy?"

your breath shudders out in a small, broken whimper before you obey, lowering your head, tongue flicking out, just barely grazing the puddle beneath you.

könig clicks his tongue. "that’s not licking, that’s teasing."

his hips snap forward, knocking you further into the mess, forcing your mouth against it. your lips part with a gasp, and könig watches, eyes dark and hungry, as you taste yourself properly for the first time.

"there we go," he hums, smug satisfaction. "now clean up every drop."

your cheeks burn as you press your tongue flat to the floor, licking a slow, tentative stripe through the mess. the taste floods your mouth and your stomach twists— but the weight of könig’s cock inside you, the way he keeps you full and stretched and pinned beneath him, sends another rush of slick dripping down your thighs.

he notices. of course he notices.

"oh, sweetheart," he breathes. "you like this, don’t you?"

your body betrays you again, a little shiver running down your spine, your cunt fluttering around him.

"mm, you do." he chuckles, dragging his fingers through your hair, tightening his grip. "filthy little thing. you’re gettin’ off on this."

you squeeze your eyes shut, shame crawling up your throat.

"könig-"

"uh-uh," he interrupts smoothly, grip tightening, making you whimper. "keep licking, schatz. don’t stop ‘til it’s gone."

your breath hitches, your tongue flicking out again, lapping up another mouthful, swallowing it down even as heat prickles behind your eyes, even as your body trembles.

könig groans at the sight, his free hand stroking down your spine, over the curve of your ass, his touch slow, possessive. "that’s it, baby," he breathes. "such a good little slut for me."

you whimper, your thighs squeezing together, your hips rocking subtly against him, desperate for friction, for anything.

he notices that, too.

"oh, you poor thing," he coos, all false sympathy, his fingers stroking your cheek where it’s damp with tears. "s’this gettin’ you all worked up?"

he pulls back just a little, his cock dragging slow and thick through your overstretched walls, making you gasp, making you squirm beneath him.

"you gonna come just from this?" he asks sweetly, rolling his hips. your body tenses, toes curling. "from licking your mess off the floor like a good little bitch?"

your face burns, your whole body trembling, too full, too overwhelmed, too much— and yet, you nod, a choked little sob escaping your lips.

"fuck," könig groans, his grip tightening, his hips snapping forward harder, faster. "you’re mine. mine. gonna ruin you. gonna keep you like this forever.”

his pace stutters, burying himself to the hilt with a ragged groan. his fingers tighten around your waist, holding you still as he spills inside, his cock twitching, pumping thick ropes of cum into your swollen cunt.

"fuck," he pants, chest heaving, his weight bearing down on you. his hands smooth over your hips, his breath hot against your ear. "so good, baby. took me so fuckin’ well."

you whimper, body limp, trembling beneath him. his cum is hot inside you, sticky, leaking, seeping out around his cock as he slowly pulls back, as he watches his mess start to slip from your overstretched hole.

könig hums, almost thoughtful. then he presses a broad palm against your pussy, scooping it up, pushing it back in with two thick fingers, shoving his spend as deep as it’ll go.

"not wasting a drop.” he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling his cum mix with your slick, watching your body twitch, watching you try to squirm away.

"keep it in,” he says almost absentmindedly.

könig lifts his hand after a moment, tilting his head as he examines the way it drips from his fingers.

"look at that," he murmurs, amused, rubbing his thumb over the band wrapped around his ring finger, smearing the mess across the metal. "you made such a mess."

his free hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up, your lips already parting before he even has to tell you.

"clean it up," he orders, sliding his ring finger past your lips, pressing heavy against your tongue.

your lashes flutter, heat prickling up your spine as you close your lips around him, sucking gently, swirling your tongue over the ridges of his finger, tasting yourself, tasting him.

könig groans, thumb stroking over your cheek, watching your lips stretch around his thick digit, watching your tongue flick against the band wrapped around his finger.

"good girl," he breathes, eyes hooded, cock twitching against your slick folds, already stirring again, already wanting more.

he presses his finger deeper, until it nudges against the back of your throat, until your breath stutters and your eyes go hazy, wet.

"so pretty like this," he murmurs. his other hand slips between your legs again, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit. "gonna keep you like this forever, wife. nice and full."

he pulls his finger from your mouth with a soft pop, watching the way your tongue flicks out after it, lips wet, eyes dazed.

"gonna make you a mommy.” he grinds his cock against your you “fill you up every night until it takes.”

“-and cut!”

[callikari]

misunderstood — nishimura riki

SYNOPSIS — at a college party, you and riki find yourselves in the same space for the first time in weeks. things between you two have been tense lately, but you’re hoping tonight will be different. everything seems to be going fine until riki cracks a joke that hits you the wrong way. what was meant to be playful teasing from him ends up making you feel hurt and frustrated. you leave the party early, but the misunderstanding only deepens when you both exchange text messages, trying to figure out what went wrong.

PAIRING .ᐟ.ᐟ — riki x fem! reader

GENRE(S) ᝰ.ᐟ — angst, miscommunication, romance, emotional tension, heartache

WARNING(S) .ᐟ.ᐟ — emotional tension, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, text-based angst, feelings of isolation, unresolved feelings

the party was loud, filled with chatter and music, but for the first time in a while, you were actually enjoying yourself. after weeks of avoiding riki and the tension between you two, things finally felt like they were moving in the right direction. you and riki had managed to have a few real conversations again, and the unease that had been hanging over both of you seemed to be fading.

you caught riki across the room, laughing with his friends—something that felt familiar, comforting. he looked over and met your eyes, his smile widening. you felt your heart do that little flip, a mix of nervousness and excitement. maybe things would finally go back to how they were before everything got so complicated.

you made your way toward him, and when he saw you, he grinned. “hey, you made it,” he said, his voice light, almost like nothing had ever happened between you two.

“yeah, was hard to say no to a party that’s practically in my dorm building,” you said with a chuckle. you were both standing at the edge of a group of his friends, and they greeted you with nods and half-smiles, but it was riki who caught your attention the most.

you spent the next few minutes catching up, talking about random things, the conversation flowing easily. it felt natural, like old times. but then, without warning, riki said something that made your stomach drop.

“y/n’s the kind of person who spends all night studying,” he said, loud enough for everyone around to hear. “I’m surprised she even made it to the party tonight. didn’t think she was capable of letting loose.”

the group chuckled, and at first, you tried to laugh along with them. but something about his tone—the way he said it so casually—felt like a jab, like he was making fun of you. you had been working hard lately, and it wasn’t like you didn’t know how to have fun. yet here riki was, making it seem like you were some kind of boring overachiever who didn’t know how to relax.

you felt your smile falter, but you quickly regained composure, shrugging it off. “guess you’re right. can’t always be the life of the party like you, huh?”

riki didn’t seem to catch the shift in your mood. he grinned, clearly still in a teasing mood. “nah, I just know how to balance things out,” he said. “maybe you should try it sometime. lightening up, I mean.”

his friends laughed again, but this time, it didn’t feel funny. you weren’t sure if it was the way he said it, or the way his friends just let it slide. either way, you couldn’t shake the sting of his words. you forced a smile, trying to play it off, but the more you thought about it, the worse it made you feel.

“maybe I’ll take your advice,” you said, your voice quieter than usual. you weren’t sure why it was bothering you so much, but you excused yourself from the group shortly after. you needed some air, maybe some space to think. riki’s voice trailed behind you as you walked away, but you didn’t look back.

after you left the party early, you spent the rest of the night with a heavy feeling in your chest. you couldn’t help but replay what had happened, wondering if you were overreacting. you were never the type to let comments get under your skin, but this one—this one felt different.

as you sat in your room, you heard the buzz of your phone. it was a text from riki.

you stared at the message, your chest tight, hoping—no, praying—that he would say something else. but the screen stayed empty. no reply. no apology.

just silence.

your phone buzzed a few minutes later. a new message popped up, but when you saw who it was from, your stomach twisted.

it wasn’t riki. it was your friend. but you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.

AUTHORS NOTE — what do we think of my first smau?😭 ALSO.... this format is heavily inspired by one of my fav writers so im lowkey scared!

© callikari — all rights reserved

[great-k1ng-rat]

Yk I only got into stranger things when season 4 came out, and I will NEVER ever understand how so many people were calling Eddie cringe or weird.

Did those people not realize what kind of people this show is about?

They're all nerds, they're outcasts, they don't belong with the 'normal people'.

The original four all got bullied because they were weird and nerdy and different.

Jonathan didn't have any friends.

Nancy felt like she had to change herself in s1 to fit in with the popular crowd.

El was literally experimented on.

Max is a tomboy, she's brutally honest and does whatever she enjoys instead of trying to fit in with the rest of the girls.

Joyce was seen as crazy in s1 for not believing her son was dead.

Hopper is grouchy and rude, people don't like him.

Murray is a literal conspiracy theorist. Just to remind you that when he was first introduced he was living at a secret location so people couldn't track him.

Robin is weird and hyper (Steve's words) and she has trouble with social cues (100% autistic) and she's a closeted lesbian in the 80s.

Even Steve has become a bit of an outcast around s3. He doesn't have any of his old friends, he didn't get into college, he no longer has his status, his dad cut him off.

They're all a bunch of weirdos, Eddie was just not ashamed of it. All those people who hated him are the same people who don't mind it when someone is different until that person is confident about not fitting in.

[joeliz99]

"You, Always." - Danny Ramirez

Warnings: Slowburn, RPF Fic, Multi-part series

Part One

Time to start over.

Danny and (Y/N) hadn’t seen each other in almost three years—since the day he graduated from college.

Honestly, they’d started growing apart even before that. But it all escalated after a conversation they had right after the graduation ceremony. That was the last time they spoke, and after that, the silence settled in—a strange, unnatural distance, only broken by occasional mentions of each other’s names through mutual friends.

They both focused on themselves. For some time, it felt like a lot was left unsaid. But, there was not much any of them could do when pride and hurt weighted more than anything else. It was over, and after some time, they accepted the idea and moved on. For good.

At least that's what Danny thought, until he learned that he was going to see her again.

Amelia and Yason, still close friends to both of them, were getting married. And of course, that was the perfect reason to reunite the whole friend group. Amelia had always been the glue in their circle, and she was determined to bring everyone back together—even if it meant flying people in from different states and countries to celebrate.

She was on the phone with Danny, making sure he’d confirmed his attendance when she casually mentioned something that caught him off guard.

"So, you're for sure coming, right?" Amelia asked, her voice relaxed but unmistakably friendly, the conversation now going on for good a while.

"Would I lie to you?" Danny grinned, though she couldn't see it. "I'll be there."

"Okay, perfect. So… should I add a plus one to your RSVP or…?"

"No," Danny replied, a breath of laughter escaping him while finishing up the last lap of his afternoon run. "Just me. No plus one."

Amelia’s voice shifted slightly, more upbeat. "Awesome. I’m working on a little hangout before the wedding. Trying to coordinate everyone's schedules. If I'm lucky, I can get the bridesmaids to come a couple of days earlier. (Y/N) and Reiny are supposed to stay with me for a couple of days, but I’m not sure about the others.”

“(Y/N)?” Danny asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice as his jog slowed.

“Yeah, (Y/N). She's one of my bridesmaids...” Amelia’s response carried a tone that suggested it should’ve been obvious.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" she teased.

"No… No, it’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. How’s she doing, anyway?"

The conversation shifted. Amelia wasn’t one to keep things to herself, but she also felt it wasn't the right thing to vent about (Y/N)'s life without her knowing. So, instead, she made sure to make it clear that her friend had being doing well, thought her life had changed in the years since. And at last, she ended up with a single expression.

" I think you two have some catching up to do. Just... Try not to waist it."

Unlike Danny, (Y/N) hadn’t known he would be at the wedding. She couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised when she found out—he had been busy with his acting career, blowing up in ways that kept him constantly moving. She figured he’d be wrapped up in projects and rehearsals, so his presence at the wedding seemed unexpected but not completely shocking.

Two days before the wedding, the closest friends and loved ones of the bride and groom met at a restaurant in SoHo. The rooftop section was packed with people, surrounded by familiar faces and the kind of easy camaraderie they tend to have. The music played, laughter floated through the air, and the evening felt just as alive as it ever had.

Danny showed up an hour late, but that didn’t stop Yason from spotting him immediately. He walked over, pulling Danny into a warm hug like nothing had changed.

As the group noticed Danny entering, the attention shifted toward him—especially from those who had been closest to him back in the day. (Y/N)’s gaze lingered a little too long as he moved through the crowd. Her heart skipped when their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the menu at the bar. The nerves started to bubble up.

But Danny, feeling that same familiar pull, walked toward her, moving through the crowd with a calm confidence that made (Y/N)'s heart race again.

"Hey." A light tap on her arm brought her back to the present. She looked up to see him standing there, smiling like no time had passed.

"Danny, hi," she greeted, trying to sound casual, though her voice betrayed her nerves.

"Been a while, huh?" Danny’s voice was light, but there was something tentative beneath it. He sat next to her, glancing around at the group before his focus shifted back to her. "How’s everything? How’s the family doing?"

The conversation flowed easier than (Y/N) expected, like they’d never been apart. It felt natural, comfortable, yet full of the kind of unspoken tension only old friends—or maybe something more—could share. That last conversation they had, the one that shifted things between them, lingered in the air, but neither of them was ready to address it. They chose to ignore it, for now.

Danny noticed how (Y/N) had changed. She was still the same person, but there was something different now—something that made him pause before speaking. He didn’t want to sound like he was only noticing how much she'd grown, but it was hard to ignore.

"This one’s on me," Danny said, trying to keep things light after they both ordered another round of drinks.

"No, really, you don’t have to," (Y/N) protested.

"I know." Danny grinned, but his gaze flickered to hers before darting away. "So, you graduated! What’s next for you?"

"Well..." She took a sip of her drink, rolling her eyes with a laugh. "Good question. I moved to Miami. Been trying to get my name out there as a songwriter. You know how it is—saturated market, fewer opportunities. Just trying to stand out."

"I get it," Danny nodded. "With acting, it’s the same. Gotta stay consistent, keep pushing through… But hey, Miami? That’s my hometown!"

"I know," (Y/N) replied, a knowing smile pulling at her lips.

Danny leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just a bit, as though making the conversation more private. "Well, listen… I’m not living there right now because of projects, but if you need—"

Before he could finish, Amelia appeared out of nowhere, slinging her arm around both of them. "Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to order food. You guys can keep talking after that."

The flow of the night continued, and soon enough, (Y/N) and Danny were seated at opposite ends of the table.

Amelia leaned over to (Y/N) once they were settled. “Saw you two talking,” she said, an amused look on her face. “How’d it go?”

“It was good,” (Y/N) said quietly, more subdued than she expected. “I just... wasn’t expecting him to be here. You didn’t mention it.”

"I know," Amelia replied with a small, knowing smile. "I didn’t want to make it weird. It’s been a while, but I think you both deserve a second chance."

"A second chance for what?" (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, but there was a slight churn in her stomach at Amelia’s words.

"Chill," Amelia said, her smile soft and teasing. "What I mean is, there’s no need to act like strangers. You two were close—really close. Don’t let time or any other thing ruin that."

“We’re fine,” (Y/N) said quickly, her gaze avoiding Amelia’s. Her stomach twisted again, but she didn’t want to admit that part of her was unsettled by the idea of facing Danny again.

"Exactly," Amelia agreed, her voice gentle. "Just relax and enjoy tonight. That’s why we’re here."

The rest of the night passed in a blur—laughter, more drinks, and conversations that ended drifting from one hangout spot to the next one. By the time the energy started to fade, only six of them—the core group—remained, still hanging out under the soft glow of the city lights. Everyone was tired, and instead of catching a ride, they walked back to the hotel after realizing it was past 2 am.

Amelia, who'd been a bit tipsy for most of the night, leaned on (Y/N), who was trying to keep it together but clearly feeling the weight of the exhaustion, too.

“I swear we were almost there 20 minutes ago. How much farther is it?!”

Reiny, already annoyed, replied, “You’ve been saying that for the past five blocks, Amelia. I can’t believe we actually listened to the drunkest person in the group. I just want to be in bed by this point.”

"Bro, we used to pull all-nighters and still go out for breakfast. This is a warm-up. We’re 25, not 60," René interrupted, not missing a beat of the conversation.

" Speak for yourself. I was an old lady at heart back then, and I still am now." (Y/N) replied after an instant, sensing how Amelia giggled and leaned on her more heavily than necessary, making her stumble a little.

“Baby, why don’t we leave (Y/N) alone? Come lean on me,” Yason said, picking up the pace a little before both girls ended up on the floor.

“But she's fi—” Amelia started to complain.

“No, actually?” (Y/N) cut her off. “You go do that. My feet are killing me, Ame. I’ve been wearing heels since 3 pm, and I can barely feel them by now.” (Y/N) practically shoved Amelia toward Yason, who was right next to her.

As (Y/N) shifted her weight, trying to keep steady, Danny picked up the pace to walk beside her, glancing at her shoes before his gaze met her face.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then casually stopped forcing the guys to do so too and pulled off his sneakers to hand them over to her. "Here, these’ll probably be more comfortable," he said, his tone completely unbothered, almost as if it were no big deal.

(Y/N) looked down at the sneakers, slightly taken aback but not wanting to make it awkward. "What? I— No. That’s kind of... I don't know. You don't have to."

"So, you’d rather get blisters than take up my offer? It’s only like 10 minutes more before we get to the hotel."

"You know how dirty the streets of NY are, dude?" (Y/N) raised an eyebrow, still not believing what he was doing.

"I have socks on. You’re not going to last two more minutes more in those. C’mon, just take them. Don't overthink it."

Her hesitation lasted a moment longer before she gave in, still unsure of what in the world was happening right there. "Alright, fine. Thanks."

Danny didn’t make a big deal about it, just slipping his hands into his pockets as she changed shoes for all of them to continue their way. The guys, still trailing behind, and having noticed the exchange, passed a few quiet chuckles between them.

Yason muttered low enough for only the guys to hear, his grin broadening. "Oh man, I missed this."

René chuckled under his breath, looking sideways at Danny. "Classic move, man. Taking one for the team, huh?"

Danny shot them a look, rolling his eyes with a small smile on his face, but didn’t say a word as they kept walking.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) pushed herself to go back to Reiny's side, grateful for the offer but still feeling the oddness of the situation. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she didn't know how to act around him, and for the mean time, it was just something she had to live with.

As the group finally took the last turn to get to the hotel, the faint sound of laughter and quiet chatter filled the air. The night felt light again, the easy rhythm of old friendships slowly falling back into place.

Second part now available here!

Still wanting to read more? Here are some other Danny's shots to read. You're welcome!!!!

[slut4hee]

That One Hot Nerd

{Paring: Nerd Euijoo x Popular Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut with little to no plot, fluff?? college au, fwbs, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: In which you have a secret sexual arrangement with the hot nerd at your school….

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, missionary because he’s a beast like that yk? big cock juju, he’s a total different person behind closed doors, dirty talk, pet names, I feel like listing everything sorry 😭

—————————————————————————

You watched as Sabrina Springfield leaned down on Euijoo’s desk, exposing her cleavage to his eyes, as she pretended to ask him a question about the assignment you all were currently working on. Euijoo wasn’t your typical nerd, he’s smart, handsome, and all the girls in school wanted a piece of him. But it always ended the same way every time, them throwing themselves at him, only to get rejected coldly.

Euijoo never gave them the time of the day, head deep in his books, and only speaking to others when he had no choice but to do so. But what nobody knew behind closed doors, was that you and him laid tangled in his sheets almost every night, you screaming his name and letting him use your body however he wanted.

You smirked to yourself when Sabrina attempt to seduce Euijoo, embarrassingly failed, as she walked back to her desk all awkwardly. You felt a sense pride and cockiness, knowing that you were the only one who were able to experience sex with him, in fact Euijoo was a totally different person behind closed doors, his shy and quiet demeanor turning into a dominant and cocky personality.

Class had finally ended, and you grabbed your things and walked over to Euijoo desk, you gave him that look he knew all too well, knowing exactly what you wanted and he was going to give it to you. He smirked to himself before nodding at you.

//

“Oh fuck juju, oh god just like that baby” You moaned loudly, Euijoo ate you out like a starved caveman, his wet tongue working wonders on your puffy wet pussy. He smirked against your lips, sucking and slightly biting at your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your legs to start shaking.

“Did you get jealous earlier” He pulled his face from your pussy, his chin glistening with juices of your arousal. Before you could respond he went back to attacking your cunt, sliding one of his digits inside your tight pussy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your body trembling as you neared your high.

“Answer me slut, I said did you get jealous when Sabrina was presenting herself like a whore to me?” He growled.

“No! No juju i didn’t, I didn’t” You cried out, heat rushing to your lower abdomen, as you feel yourself about to explode.

“And why is that baby girl, better give a good answer or this pretty pussy Is not cumming” He grinned menacingly, sliding yet another finger inside you, as he sucked your pussy aggressively.

“B-Because i know you don’t want them, you belong to me and I belong to you, fuck daddy please let me cum please” You screamed out, at this point you’re holding your breath, the band in your stomach threatening to snap.

“Good girl, only my good girl now cum for me, make a fucking mess” You came almost instantly, letting out a loud cry, as you came hard and squirted your juices all over his face and fingers. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down.

“Juju please, want your big cock inside my pussy so badly” You begged shamelessly, grabbing his face roughly and kissing him messily. You moaned into his mouth, at the taste of you arousal still lingering on his tongue.

“Such a cock hungry little thing aren’t you, can’t last a second without my dick stuffed inside you baby?” He groaned, slapping his fat mushroom tip on your puffy clit.

“Yes daddy I’m such a whore for you cock, please fuck me now” You bucked your hips desperately, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim. He growled before sliding his dick inside you in one go, the feeling of his thick cock breaching your insides, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fuuuckk, tight little fucking cunt, so warm and wet it’s all mines right?” He moaned, his tall figure towering over you, as rocked his hips back and forth in perfect rhythm. You clawed at his back, feeling him so deep inside you, his tip was touching your cervix. You looked up at him with your fucked out eyes, his glasses were fogging up and sliding off his face.

You moaned at the sight, fixing his glasses for him, as you thrusted your hips against his.

“You naughty little girl, you like getting fucked by nerds huh? Like when they use your body like a slut, while wearing their glasses baby?” He whined, your tight pussy squeezing and trying to milk him for all he’s worth. The bed was creaking loudly, the sound of your skin meeting his echoed off the walls of his dorm, and you’re pretty sure the people in the room next door could hear everything that was happening.

“Fuck baby, gonna make me cum so hard, gonna drain my balls like a good girl baby?” He panted, his thrusts growing erratic and sloppy, as he feels himself tipping over the edge. You were also close, that tingly feeling returning, and the room felt like furnace, hotter than lava itself.

“Yes Euijoo, want your cum so bad, please breed me daddy” You whined, your pussy clamping down on him, robbing his body of its white sticky essence. That’s all that took for him to let go, letting out a guttural growl, as he shoot thick spurts of white cum deep inside you. You followed right behind him, the feeling of his warm cum flooding your insides, made you cum so hard around his dick, your cream dripping down the base.

He collapsed on top of you, his body spent and limp. You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing all over neck softly. You both laid there in silence, just enjoying the comfortable feeling of being close to each other.

Finally Euijoo said the words you’ve been waiting to hear for a long time

“𝐘/𝐧, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝?” 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬.

“𝐘𝐞𝐬! 𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐄𝐮𝐢𝐣𝐨𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬…..

The End.

A/n: this is actually kinda cute 🥹 and sexy and hot!! But I kinda feel like it sucks idk I was kinda sleepy when I wrote it but this for all my ej stans I hope you enjoy and reblogs and feedback are always appreciated🫶🏽 not proof read srry🥲

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Taglist:

@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @kolawnk

[yoonkinii]

Jjk M.list

Gojo Satoru

Perfectly Imperfect

Synopsis: Everyone is born with a soulmate. Everyone knows by the time they hit age 18, a different kind of soulmate mark will appear. Some are unable to see color until they meet their soulmates gaze, others have matching tattoos. These are the more common ones; ones that can be tracked down in history but others are rare. So rare that there’s rarely any information available about it. Rare like yours and the only case of this soulmarking was dated decades ago with only two lines describing it.

"Person A and Person B afflicted by this marking will discover themselves to be covered in string-like tattoo markings in certain areas. These areas are what the soulmate A or B deem unworthy of themselves; or rather, what they hate about themself."

This wouldn't be a problem for you if it wasnt for the fact that everything from the collarbone to your ankles was decorated in white string-like lines.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Theme song: Bonfire - wave to earth

What color is my sky painted? What color is your emotion? Close your eyes slowly and feel the wind. The bonfire is fading out. Maybe we are falling Falling down with the rain.

amore mio aiutami- Piero Piccioni (literally the song that plays when M/C looks at him)

Warning(s):

18+, Sub!Gojo (gasp!), cursing, mentions of self-hate, discussion of Self-hate, mentions of minor character death- Will be added as chapters progress but if you see something that I didn’t include here, please let me know!

Note(s):

Expect this to be a short fic. I do not plan on having this over 6 parts and even then it could be less or couple chapters more. Depends on how I write everything.

Part(s): TBA

Ryomen Sukuna

Snippets of Love

Synopsis: Glimpses of your relationship with Sukuna through prompts/questions.

Paring: Sukuna x Reader

Theme Song: Heart To Heart - Mac DeMarco

So I had a late Arrival So, we never saw the start of each others lives heart to heart

Notable tags: ModernAU, slight age gap, Canon/Fanon implements, Sukuna still has his tattoos, CEO Sukuna, uncle Sukuna, college student reader, pierced Sukuna.

Note(s): Inspired to do this series based on Kyarrcha fanart of Sukuna on Instagram! I want this to be mostly based on requests about certain moments such as when Sukuna and you first met, first date, and things like that. This can also include certain scenarios or environments. Feel free to send in requests but I will also add in my own takes.

Requests: Open.

Warnings: will be listed in the sections.

You are not required to read snippets in order, but it is recommended.

How y♡u first met Sukuna!

How y♡u met Sukuna again (and got his number)!

First date with Sukuna!

Sukuna letting y♡u doll him up!

Sukuna with drunk y♡u

Jealous Y♡u

Argument with Sukuna

Choso Kamo

Echos of Desire

Synopsis: Choso is one of the few to possess abilities that transcend human limits. His family was taken away from him and he was given to serve the king. He was trained in nothing else but to kill and follow orders. He was a man made weapon. His name whispered in fear- the kingdom's boogeyman. He hates it though. Hates how his freedom was ripped from his hands. Hates how his ‘gift’ is more like a curse. He is offered a deal he can’t deny- transport the princess to safety in a neighboring kingdom. The only problem is, she’s the daughter of the man that took everything from him and she is being hunted down by unknown forces. 

Pairing: Choso x Reader

Theme Song: my love is mine all mine - Mitski

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you? So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you? 'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine

Notable tags: FantasyAU, Fanon (I am creating my own world and using some pieces of jjk in it), major character death, burning alive, abuse, gore, blood, mentions of self loathing, anger. (Will be updated as more parts come out)

Note(s): Just a little something.

Part(s): 1 |

Headers by @uzmacchiato

[yinsmoonlight]

all that’s unspoken. — chapter 4.

genre — fiction | main characters — fem!reader. aespa & lesserafim.

synopsis — the beginning of a new school year, and it’s already looking terrible. lost your friends, and nowhere to turn to after a night gone wrong. with unbearable feelings caught in your throat, you navigate through this year wondering if you should speak, or keep silent.

content warnings — none in this chapter.

doing a paper on women’s rights. couldn’t be any easier, right?

the 19th amendment gave women the right to vote. it was a historical event that changed the history within the united states.

women needed it, after all.

who wants to be a stay at home housewife 24/7, cooking, cleaning? looking after some rowdy kids?

of course, some women don’t mind that.

but you’d love some independence. especially from what has you in a current state of shock and fear.

you went up and down through the library and articles you collected for this paper. it’ll be so good that mr. mackey will have to give you a good grade.

plus, it’ll be a good thing to raise your grade, considering you’re passing with a D+.

we don’t talk about that.

these past few weeks you’ve hated.

you can never walk past someone without them “accidentally” knocking your books from your hands. or “accidentally” tripping you.

seemed like everyone knew you from the fact of what happened at that stupid party.

was it really wrong that you did what you did?

you were just scared and felt helpless.

christmas was coming soon, so you didn’t feel like having the same scolding from your mom and dad about your failing grades.

focus on this paper, and maybe you’ll do good. i should! i’ve done all my damn research into this thing.

anyways, the school pep rally is happening soon. eunchae wanted you with her to decorate the school gym, even if you didn’t do anything.

she just likes your presence there, and she didn’t want you to feel lonely.

regardless, you help eunchae. she had you place different stickers on the posters while she finished hanging up other ones that were finished.

it felt peacefully to say the least. it was only you and eunchae, besides sakura that found you both.

“really taking pride in this pep rally?” kkura chuckles at the both of you.

“it’s showing school pride!” eunchae smiles, “wanna help?”

sakura pretends to think, until she relents with a small sigh, “might as well. this is my last year here, anyways.” she says before helping eunchae with taping a sign.

eunchae and sakura got into a conversation about the future, mainly about what kkura wanted to do, whether it was college, take a gap year, or just do whatever she wanted.

sakura said she didn’t really know what she wanted to do yet, despite being a senior.

she said to not rush into it, lots of kids don’t know what they want to do by the time they graduate highschool.

even the majority of adults don’t know.

speaking of, how did some kids have their whole life planned ahead of them? i’m almost a senior, and i don’t even know what i want to wear tomorrow, let alone decide what i want to do when i turn 20.

after this segment of free time, you had biology class with chaewon.

since you had a sub today, you just spent your time doodling different butterflies in your notebook.

all of them looked the same. black, dark gray, dead wings.

“so, you like butterflies, huh?” chaewon asks.

you look up in shock and shrug, “just for a class project.” you mumble.

chaewon nods, “makes sense. i thought it was some sort of hyper-fixation, maybe.”

you didn’t respond to chaewon, too caught up in your thoughts as you continued to draw.

“you don’t talk much, i like that.” she says, “you’re mysterious. i like that in a person. makes them interesting to figure out.” she explains.

you suddenly remembered your paper, and look up at chaewon.

“hey um, could you read this paper for mr. mackey’s class? extra credit.” you explain.

chaewon nods with a smile and once you handed her your paper, she began.

she must be a fast reader. not even five minutes she looks up and nods, “this is pretty good, y/n. for sure you’ll get an A.” she encourages.

this uplifted your spirits a little. you trusted chaewon enough to this extent that you’ll pass.

plus, she’s hella smart.

“you think so?” you ask in reassurance to which she nods.

“y’know, what i think you did in mr. mackey’s class was cool. standing up to him like that.” you confess.

the girl chuckles, “that teacher is nothing but a joke. he’s a grown man, yet can’t handle when others don’t agree with what he says? there’s opinions and debates for a reason. except, it wasn’t either. he’s clearly racist and xenophobic.”

you nod agreeing with chaewon’s words. she clearly was well worded and mature. it made you admire her.

the one time she gets in trouble, it’s for a good and valid reason. she stood up for what was right, even if it was an authority figure.

there’s a lesson to this; even authority figures can be wrong, but since we’re “just kids” were automatically wrong either way. be a grown up they tell us when teachers act this way? please.

“anyways, what’s your art project about?” she asks.

you snap from your thoughts, blinking a little, “oh uh, my teacher wants us to basically build a portfolio of what we picked. it has to “tell a story” throughout the school year. i think it’s stupid. how can i tell a story with a butterfly?” you huff.

chaewon chuckles, “i’m not an artsy person, but anything can tell a story. even if it’s just a color. like red, it can signify anger, or love. pink is associated with love, as well. or blue can show sadness.”

you look at her like she’s crazy.

“your butterflies tell a story, yeah? the wings are dark and look ripped. what do you think that says?” she asks you.

a shrug.

“well,” chaewon starts, “i see maybe someone who is upset? they’ve been hurt? it can be interpreted into anything.” she explains.

no wonder mr. donovan is so good at this art thing.

during lunchtime, you went into mr. mackey’s room to give him your paper, which he looked up at you with his glasses on the tip of his nose.

he looked at you with that usual stern eyebrow look. is he ever happy?

“front of the class tomorrow, first thing.” he says making you very confused.

but the pit in your stomach had your intuition telling you what it was.

he sighs, “in order to pass this paper, present it orally. like i said, first thing tomorrow in class.” he says.

with annoyance in your expression, you slightly huff and leave the room.

are you kidding me? NOW you’re telling me i have to present it up in front of everyone? definitely not happening.

as you walked past the aisles of lockers, you see chaewon at hers.

you debated on whether or not to walk up to her, asking her for help.

before completely walking past her, you slowly walk back and approach.

“hey…” you mumble, “do you mind helping me with something?” you ask softly.

the girl looks up with a small smile, “yeah, of course, what’s up?”

-

finally, it was the pep rally as everyone was rushing into the gym, while you debated on wanting to go or not.

besides, who wants to be in a loud place like the gym? all of the echos and unnecessary screaming.

but, for eunchae, you know she’d be expecting you to be there.

besides, she already spotted you, along with sakura by her side.

“y/n! come on!” she smiles gently grabbing your hand as you follow her and sakura into the gym.

once sat at the bleachers, you were sitting between eunchae and another random kid. everyone was excited as the bustling of all the grades entered the gym.

the school band were playing their loud instruments, and the cheerleaders were flipping, twirling, and cheering. whatever they usually do.

a game of tug of war happened, to a dance off, you couldn’t really grip what was happening. you were stuck in your thoughts.

it was when you felt a tap on your shoulder and you look over your shoulder.

it was an older girl, most likely a senior.

“you y/n l/n?” she asks and you slightly freeze.

your hands begin to tingle, and you instinctively shook your head no slowly, turning back around.

“you were the one that called the cops at that party,” she huffs, “y’know you got my cousin fired from his job because of it, bitch.” she scowls before purposefully kneeing you hard in the back.

you bite your lip, scooting forward a little.

you bothered your eyes with something else to not have your mind distracted on the girl behind you.

only until your eyes caught a sight; one you wish you hadn’t.

it was aeri and her. holding hands. then hugging, then kissing.

no way…there’s no way they’re dating now. they can’t be.

your heart pounded in your ears, you struggled to breathe. you didn’t want to be in this gym anymore.

eunchae seemed to noticed, her eyes following yours, as well as your hands gripping the fabric of your pants.

before eunchae could say anything, you hurriedly grabbed your bag and ran out of the gym.

eunchae didn’t think twice before running after you.

luckily, she saw you run out through the school front doors, and ran down the hall after you.

“hey! are you okay? why did you run out?” she asks catching up to you.

you stopped. you wanted to tell the girl off, to leave you alone.

but she didn’t deserve that. not one bit. not when she was just being concerned about a friend.

you open your mouth, but couldn’t say anything. you were avoiding eye contact with her.

eunchae sighs a little, “you don’t have to tell me, but i saw you looking at two girls. i mean, i’m still here for you, regardless. you looked like you could barely breathe.”

by her stutter, eunchae was stuck on what to say to begin with.

you wanted to tell the girl, but how would you even start?

your better instincts told you to trust her. over these past few weeks of school, eunchae has been more a friend to you than the ones from your past.

the both of you began to walk off the school campus and down the sidewalk, where home was.

it was silent, until you spoke up softly.

“i…the girls i was looking at, in the gym, one of them is my…or was my friend. the one with pink hair, her name is aeri. we’re not friends anymore.” you explain.

“may i ask why?” the younger girl asks.

you sigh shakily, “we went to a party…”

-

you laughed as you got into the car of aeri’s older sister. it was you, aeri, ningning, winter, and karina.

you all were so excited to go to this end of summer party. surprisingly, aeri’s sister agreed to let you come.

of course, aeri’s parents were out of town, so this was the perfect opportunity to do so. originally, a sleepover was put in place, but it wasn’t exactly like you were sneaking out.

the party smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. you weren’t used to these kinds of parties, of course. being a sort of goody two-shoes, you stuck to the original fruit punch, eating popcorn, any other party foods.

but it felt appealing, hanging out with the older kids considering you’re all only in tenth grade. who wouldn’t be excited to hang out with the juniors and seniors?

you and aeri had decided to try and talk to the older kids, while winter, ningning and karina were in their trio, talking with each other or meeting any other kids.

all of them were so nice and friendly, offering you some good advice for entering your third year of highschool.

even some of the older kids said they’d have your back this upcoming new school year.

especially this one junior, was so into you. she made you smile and had butterflies in your stomach.

she made you feel special despite just upon first meet.

“it was all in good fun.” she told you.

-

once you finished, you saw eunchae crying.

you were shocked. very shocked, to say the least. it was like you slapped her or something.

before you could say anything, she brought you into a tight hug, by instinct.

“you can’t tell anyone, okay? promise me.” you told the girl.

eunchae was torn, but she knew it was right and nodded, “i promise.”

taglist — (OPEN) @1luvkarina @fruitygOrl

[natsredbra]

https://www.tumblr.com/natsredbra/775847582460248064/having-withdrawals-because-of-wife?source=share

I woke up on a shitty day today😔 I have a stomachache and I've been throwing up everywhere like crazy, nothing I eat stays in my stomach for a long time so my mom made soup which was the only thing I could eat :(( I'm also drinking a lot of coconut water to replenish fluids because I'm very weak

I missed my first day back at college and got a 3 day sick day because of it😩 I think I'll be a little absent until at least tomorrow because my phone screen is giving me a headache.

Not to starve you of ideas and to be quite indulgent about my adult state, I'm thinking of a scenario where Natalie takes care of her sick girlfriend<3 just being cute and understanding, cooking her chicken soup because I firmly believe that with the life she led she learned to cook very well to survive, Nat would also give great hugs and hold your hair when you vomit, also wouldn't mind being close because it's not really contagious.

-🌺

ohh welcome back honey, it has been entirely too long since I’ve felt your warmth in my inbox…on a serious note I hope you get well and that these Nat thoughts feed you <3

Thinking about established relationship, living together and being all domestic…she hears you call in sick and tells you she’ll try her best to get out of work as soon as possible (She can do that, she owns the record store with Van!!)

Once she does get back, she’s carrying some nausea medicine in hand, she got a few different ones to make sure at least one works.

Kissing your forehead to check for temperature and asking you if anything else hurts

Her heart breaks at your pained tone!! She also hates that you can’t keep anything down, she always struggled with the thought of lacking food- because she grew up very poor, but primarily cause of all she went through

Still, she makes you some noodle chicken soup and feeds it to you while you watch TV, or just talk

Quite literally won’t leave your side. You have to reassure her you’ll be fine if she goes to take a piss!!

Few hours after you have some camomile tea too, and that seemed to be wayy too much for you.

You rush to the bathroom to puke your guts out right after, and safe to say, she goes along with you, holding your hair and rubbing your back. When you finish up she asks if that’s all, and gives you little pecks on your shoulder when you shake your head.

Stays with you the entire time and practically tends to you all night…bringing a basin filled with water next to your bed when you go to sleep so that you don’t have to get up if you get sick again

Overall she’s soooo super extremely caring

[the-stove-is-divorced]

You understand <3 I swear they keep blurring in my mind completely, I’ll confuse which thread I’ve even responded to lol.

Cecil being pissed the fuck off he DID have Mark on a leash and then loses it immediately (relatively) it’s so funny. Like wow you really get a taste of what you wanted SO bad and lost it because of your OWN actions. Reallyy feeling the bite of not having the Guardians around, huh? Still wish it was handled more clearly and coherently. Like, characters do point out Cecil is insane for planting a bomb in a kid’s head, bur I also wish there was, again, a visual parallel to the fact in Mark’s eyes the Obey Me or Die, is what NOLAN did to Mark, or to his understanding. Like do this thing you don’t agree with whatsoever or I’ll kill you. The story clearly has the Mark = Nolan parallel going (and no Debbie parallel which I am so normal and not angry about, not like she raised him or anything), but I am truly begging for them both to have it. Even if it’s only in their respective understanding, or bias. PLEASE. I BEG. At least to emphasize how quickly Mark escalates the situation, equating Cecil and Nolan, if his morality isn’t sound and sturdy enough to build up to this neatly?

ALSO SPEAK ON IT, Cecil casually commits to breaking and entering CONSISTENTLY. Don’t matter if you’re at college, at home, etc, if he wants to see you, he’s GOING to see you, privacy be damned. And yeah, it’s never RLLY acknowledged as insane?? Just, like, annoying? Like he isn’t showing up at the door, twiddling his thumbs to be let in. He KNOWS where you are 24/7 AND demands your immediate attention by showing up right in front of you. Literally whenever he wants. Why wouldn’t Mark do the same honestly???

ALSO YEAH? Nolan and Debbie makes sense for the date thing, Mark and Eve DONT? Like again, I’m fundamentally confused why Mark, who is supposed to be an emotional guilt magnet, who SHOULD be still blaming himself for what his father has done to him in SOME capacity, decides NOT helping is a priority. Who are you??? Shouldn’t you still be guilty about how many people died while Nolan was trying to get on the colonizer mindset in s1? Nolan tried that shit AGAIN in s2. He got you take home his affair baby??? All of sudden it doesn’t work? Where bro’s guilt go??? We don’t get a moment that suggests he’s wary because of, again, his Dad, either but him just saying no!

I get the purpose, sure, Mark is now warier about being given some random vague task, I understand this a moment of progression for him, even if it’s a darker decision. He’s literally wearing a darker color, but I wanna see more???? Idk conflict??? A progression of him dealing with his guilt, hesitating, before refusing. Have him look nervous or uncertain after. Is this the right thing? Are they lying to him too? What if it’s Nolan again somehow?

That dynamic being iso different than the comics is making me cackle because if we have a more connected relationship, even with hostility and suspicion, why not?? Do more then? Like we’re on first name basis, Debbie hates his ass, but also “can’t believe” Cecil would lie to her son…? Huh. How does that work? Shouldn’t she be annoyed Mark talks to him at all? Pull a “I told you so?”.

Honestly, Amazon question is one I hadn’t considered, but the rings of power budget will never not irritate me. The amount of shows not given the time, advertising, etc it deserved because some bigwig wants it to fail, to cut budgets, to cancel it, erase it from existence will never not make me PISSED. But seriously, Amazon makes how much and what’s given to allow this show to thrive??? This show is limping. Being disappointed in the animation is a common MEME??? Calling it the slideshow ass show!! Which is mean, but also come on now. Can we have a cool, animated fight scene please? I will plead.

Also Cecil being a control freak and that’s why he keeps bringing Donald back makes TOO much sense at this point. Bro won’t betray you and Cecil is clearly not letting him go. That’s a loyal dog right there.

AND YEAH. Invincible kinda falls flat on what it does try to present, and I feel it’s partially how wildly diff s1 and latter seasons feel? Even when it wasn’t done well, there was a focus more on “wow isn’t this fucked up” that gets dropped to focus on other plot points without really thinking how to articulate all of it properly? So, the point that was being made is on the cutting room floor, and the new point is even SHAKIER. Invincible has a very strict moral compass, but has no idea what those morals are. I would love to see when they figure out what they are, because shows. Like, I don’t even know where Mark’s lines are drawn and he’s our protagonist, and it doesn’t feel like a well articulated ambiguity or hypocrisy as much as an incidental one? And yet, I will watch without hesitation. I love this show. I also can't stand it. I wanna break out a board and red string of every moment it refused to live up to potential. It's living rent free in my head.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[nenoname]

Details in Stan's letter that still haunt me

(how long will I continue thinking about a two page letter that's technically not even that long because Stan's handwriting is fricking large? .....you don't need to worry about that.)

The bro code only shows up in the Lost Journal pages, and to me Stan's message feels like it purposely echoes Ford's "miss you" in the college photo (and for some reason the message doesn't appear in the website version of the photo?) ....or alternatively Stan simply noticed how distressed Ford was about this entire thing and wanted to support him in a way so he can be sappy but without the kids knowing, or both!

Stan's claim about the Oregon lottery contradicts what the Lost Legends website said about Tate McGucket's ability to predict the winning numbers!! ...but also breaking into the Lottery HQ is definitely a very Stan thing to do and it's not the first time small gags have been retconned

Despite spending most of his letter nonchalantly destroying him, the taunt about ripping a dollar bill in half is the only part where Stan is directly responding to Bill. Maybe it's the two of them having similar ways of thinking but it's rather specific considering Bill taunts the reader about it...

And after Bill spends an entire book calling Ford Sixer despite normally using a pretty wide range of nicknames for him, Stan then spends his letter mainly referring to Ford as Sixer, even though post-Weirdmageddon he tends to use a mix of nicknames. And it's not like he'd gotten to see Bill himself for long, let alone see him steal that childhood nickname (that is only used twice in the actual show btw!). Did Ford tell him what happened or...?

With all this and the website's "still on your mind" message, what I'm getting at is my tinfoil hat theory of Stan somehow seeing some of the pages the irl readers saw, even when it should be personalised to the specific reader, and he's been lying about it for some reason. Considering that the book flat out doesn't make an attempt at convincing Soos, I find it a stretch that whatever Bill was telling Stan via the book was an attempt to convince him either.

Wouldn't be the first time Stan's skimmed through a book and lied about what it meant to him.

(...Now I kinda wanna see a story about the family reading their versions of the book and making fun of it while Stan is improvising every single one of his pages and blatantly ignoring Bill's attempts to mock and taunt him)

But also I'm fascinated by the letters that only showed up on the website (aka the Soos+Wendy+McGucket+Pacifica ones). I'm assuming that Mabel had stuck them on after Stan's letter... but they were basically eaten by the book itself because seeing Stan's letter kick-started Bill's breakdown which takes up the rest of the book

[fauxpontchartrain]

i check your blog like "hows that nice crazy girl doing" and then BAM im reminded youre an actual genius

LMFAO, omg haiii <3 ily you should be mutual. Anyway yeah I don’t know why people honestly think I’m not good enough or too stupid or crazy or weird or mentally unstable to have accomplished all that I have and managed to study at some pretty good schools and get decent career opportunities and projects with my education (like all of the UN projects i’ve done). I know I’m retarded as shit, they have a word for people like me: “idiot-savants” lmao. I have so many other friends and mutuals who are just as batshit as I am and they also go to prestigious colleges and have accomplished great things too.

Like, y’all. Ted Kaczynski and Luigi Mangione are RIGHT there. They’re RIGHT there. Or at least Kaczynski was there. But guess what? Mr. Kaczynski ALSO got into Harvard at age 15. And look what happened to him! Case closed!

Oh, ALSO! Did you see my last post? Do you want me to make a fake probation report or arrest warrant about you for my criminal justice homework LMAO

[maddie-grove]

I’ve decided to do a Sarah Dessen reread and a Princess Diaries reread this year (along with the still-ongoing Sammy Keyes reread). So far: That Summer is very first novel-y. Nice family relationships but the heroine hasn’t gotten to do much.

[curiosity-killed]

i love my sister and for the most part, we are very close and genuinely like each other a lot but the one place where i'd just really, really, really like to see inside her brain is the part where she is still incredibly comfortable and cheerful—and even thinks it's really funny—talking about how much she didn't like me as a child while I'm like. yes. I am and was aware. and it sucked so so so much

[utilitycaster]

just an idle weird thought given the proximity of Phineas's breakdown in Midst, Ashton's breakdown on Critical Role, and some stray thoughts I've had about Tula on D20, Suvi on WBN, and that female blorbos post that goes around from time to time; but I feel like that very specific identity crisis/explosive depression spiral re Phineas and Ashton is truly a thing that makes me go oh this character is actually everything is weirdly gendered. It's almost always a man who has it; Ashton is honestly the only example I can think of who isn't a man (though I think Suvi might be headed for this, which is one of the many reasons I love her).

[joznii]

Sorry I have to send my ask through my main blog, but it is soooo nice to see more Sven and Faendal shippers out there. I hadn't ever thought of it until a couple years ago when someone here posted their fic and it was only the 2nd? or 3rd fic for the two of them to ever go on ao3, BUT IT JUST MAKES SENSE!!!! They are the PERFECT enemies to lovers!! I can't see it any other way anymore tbh. Your art and ideas are great and I can't wait to see what you do and who you convert!

THEY REALLY ARE !! Their dynamic lends itself to SO MUCH i honestly thought i was going INSANE when i looked for content of them and there was so little like HOW!! Tailor made enemies to lovers like AHGGGHHHH

Im glad u enjoy my art, i hate to say they single handedly pulled me out of a YEARS long artblock its so embarrassing lmao