#there is a light at the end of every tunnel

[orangetintedglasses]

Yeah, he... had the pretty distinct feeling that he wouldn't be able to keep him from dozing even if he tried. Unless he really felt like poking him every ten seconds...

Vash just hummed sweetly, that same hand finding Wolfwood's back and rubbing a few slow, gentle circles between his shoulder blades before the urge to fuss over the man was sated, and Vash could pull back to let him rest. Internally, he clocked a five and a half minute timer-- one that would only start counting down once Vash made it over to the door, and flicked off the lights.

It's not going to be enough time, but once again, he doubts he could talk Wolfwood into resting for that long. They can worry about it once they're out of there. Vash can take care of him once they're out of there.

Once that was done and dusted, and they were done talking, the room was almost... uncomfortably silent. Not nearly as bad as it had been in the surrounding tunnels, but there wasn't even that hum of electricity to fill the dead air; Vash found himself hesitant to even breathe too loudly in a space like this. And if he thought too loudly...

... the blond shut his eyes. He let his head empty out as he dropped it back against the door with a muted thud, the spikes of his hair bouqueting out against the slab. Not a whole lot for him to do, aside from wait and watch... so he'd let his senses slip through the cracks of the door and extend beyond the room, out into the hall, and with a furrow of his brow, wove a web as far out as he could feasibly reach. Which was decently far, even if he bumped up against corners and (what felt like) dead ends along the way; submerging himself in that and that alone... that timer ticking down in the back of his mind the only thing that occupied it...

And after about four of those five and a half minutes, their radios chirped, effectively shattering the silence.

By some miracle—for both of them—Wolfwood is caught fully unaware by the overpowering rush of colors and warmth and sunshine that Vash exudes (along with a tinge of flame). He's not sure what he did to warrant that kind of reaction, or why the blond stutters so visibly, but the emotions draw out a bashful mirror from the undertaker. He clearly tries to hide his feelings back behind the carefully guarded gate of 'WORK,' but some of his own elation filters through the cracks.

Especially when Vash gets all gentle with him. Petting his head... not fair. Even though Wolfwood had done it moments before, that doesn't mean that he's allowed to do the same. Hmph.

... But, Vash is right. His eyes are strained from all of the light he's had to endure. That's... annoying. If there's something wrong with his eyes, the serum should heal it. Maybe... nerves take longer to heal? That wouldn't explain the change of eye color though...

"Mm... okay," Wolfwood mumbles as he removes his glasses and slumps onto the desk in front of him, trying to find comfort in the crooks of his own arms despite the tears in his clothing. He allows himself to tuck his face against his forearm, covering his eyes with the sleeve of his blazer. Dozing off is a bad idea, but simply resting them a few minutes shouldn't hurt... just until he recovers from the adrenaline rush's plummet. "Don't let me... fall asleep..."

He appears to be failing step one. A hidden yawn confirms it.

[ruruumin]

put me in, coach

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x fem! reader.

⤷ you were given one last chance in the industry.

with a sharp inhale, you choked up a sob, biting down on the bottom of your lip as you lay on the ground, helplessly waiting for a medic to pick you up. your cheeks were burning with a mixture of humiliation and frustration. on the ground like a helpless damsel, you were waiting to be saved by someone. you were holding onto the fake grass with enough force to rip the tarp below. sweat and drool dripped down your chin as you shivered. eyes staring up at the clear clouds as you trembled. your lungs started to hurt every time you breathed and you swore you had the wind knocked out of you. 

squeezing your leg muscle with one hand, you restrained seething tears. looking up at your opponent, you were left wide-eyed as they stood above you, the sun shining down on their figure as they smiled slowly, their pupils collapsing in on themselves like a spiral wishing well. they watched gleefully as you were carried away on a stretcher. 

after making it past the dark tunnels and into a private room, you finally let yourself cry for the first time in years. an unfortunate mishap that caused you not only the world cup but your pride. you held your face in your hands, covering it from the blinding lights from what you assume to be the inside of an ambulance.

→ WORLD-CLASS ATHLETE (NAME) TEARS THEIR ACL: IS THIS THE END OF HER SOCCER CAREER?

↳ retrogamer129: no way, this might be the end of (name)’s career

↳ fuumuni: did you guys see the way the other team sabotaged her? so fucked up

↳ (name)fangirl101: they need to be held responsible, if you look back on the clips, you can see they had no remorse for what they did

↳ cherrybomb_249: it looked like it could have been an accident. don’t point fingers and ruin someone else’s soccer career over a mistake

that was a year ago. 

after you tore your acl, you weren’t able to go back on the field as you used to. because of your absence, your team couldn’t make it to the world cup. they lost a crucial part of their team and with your career hanging on a balance, the club you were once in had to disband. it was a cruel fate for any athlete. 

everyone hears stories about people’s dreams getting cut short. and not a single person wants to be in that story, including you.

tucking in your legs slightly, you wrap your arms around your muscles. pressing your forehead against your knees, you think about the events that led up to this moment. when you were younger, you would play a lot of soccer with itoshi sae, a close friend of yours. he had this light, red-bean-colored hair with his bangs pulled back, exposing his permanent scowl. he was a good player. taught you a few tricks that led to you getting into a fancy soccer club. 

he had a rowdy little brother that seemed to always look up to you. when he wasn’t playing with his dinosaur toys, he would be at your practices, watching you kick the ball into the goal. your friends used to think he admired you on the same level he did for sae. after all, he’d always tug on your hand whenever you bought him popsicles, insisting that you share with him (a rare feat his mother once told you, rin doesn’t like to share).

he and sae shared a lot of similarities. whether it be the scowl on his face or the way they both liked those cheap blue popsicles from the convenience store, they were bound by more than just blood. they had a lot of talent riding on them. 

when you left to go study abroad, you were a little sad to see a tiny rin wave to you at the airport. it was pretty obvious he was holding back tears. you were the first in his little circle to leave japan. the second would be his older brother sae, who followed closely behind you, insisting that there would be better players out in the world. 

unlike sae however, you would frequently keep up with rin on the phone. calling him once in a while, checking up on his studies and watching recorded videos of his games, it felt like things hadn’t changed. you knew in your heart that the two itoshi brothers had something special within them, something so odd it kept you on your toes, expecting something spectacular. 

when you left japan, you met another oddball: a tall, lanky man who loved nothing but soccer. he was your coach leading up to the world cup. you figure that if he could be anything in the world, he would want to be the best striker in the entire universe (and beyond, if aliens and other extraterrial life existed). 

you were only able to play a few games with him while he was training you. however, in that short amount of time, you learned more than you ever could. from small quips here and there about a person’s talent and ego, as well as the brutal reality that is over exhausting yourself, he was one of the best coaches you had to this day. on short trips, you would begin to piece together things about him. from the foods he wanted to eat, to his biggest dream, he was certainly a character. even more so when his parents named him after a very unique word: ego. and ego was something he never lacked in.

so when a mysterious letter shows up at your doorstep, you were sure that it was something related to him. 

✦

“please welcome my former student and previous runner-up for the world cup: (name) (last name).”

walking through the dramatic double-sliding doors, you push back your bangs, tilting your head off to the side as you observe the large room. instead of wearing the typical blue-lock, skin-tight uniform, the boys were provided with, you were thankfully given something more comfortable and lax. the only requirement you had was to keep your lanyard on it at all times, as your id card was the only way you could access most of the doors. 

“they’ll be training and determining whether or not you’ll make it to the next selection. if you play less than satisfactory, you can kiss your soccer dreams goodbye,” ego claps his hands together, treating them more like dogs than people, “for this small buffer period, you’ll be playing against each other using your current team.” 

“why is a girl teaching us? couldn’t you have gotten someone from the men’s world cup?” 

“isn’t she injured still?” 

ego hums, cracking his neck as he pulls it to the side, “why does it matter? she was my student. a good one too. even with her leg, she’ll still make a valuable coach. it’d be a waste to let that level of talent slip by and rot.” 

swallowing your nervousness, he continues, “when you get older, you’ll start to understand.” 

with that, ego turns his body around, straightening his back as he walks through the double doors. you suppose that’s all he has to say about you. he surprisingly said nice things. when you were training with him, you could only remember how blunt and disconnected his words were. to think he had a bit of a nice side made you a little unnerved. 

though, not as much as the overwhelmingly cold stare you felt.

a shiver runs down your spine. rotating your body in the direction of danger, you see rin in the crowd, standing with a firm yet disappointed expression. whether or not it was directed towards you remains a mystery. you cowardly avoid his gaze, unsure if you even want to see him right now.

or perhaps the better choice of words is: you don’t want him to see you. 

when you left for the world cup, you promised him that you would return with something to show. to come back to japan with nothing meant you failed in more ways than one. not only did you let your team, club, and country down, you had shattered the promise you had given to rin several years ago. at the very least, sae had something to show, but for you? there was nothing. all you had was the legacy you left behind for the next person to take up. a stepping stone for someone else’s ambition.

now the boy you used to share popsicles with was growing far out of your reach. not only was he a lot taller and leaner, he was getting better at an alarming rate. and with him at blue lock, it was almost certain you’d see his name show up in the u-20 match that ego had promised. 

you’re starting to feel pressure rising to your ears. it feels like water getting tunneled through your ear canals, deafening any sort of noise that flies past you. if it was anyone else, would they have fallen this low? or was it destined just for you? everything was starting to feel dizzy at this point.

squeezing your eyes shut, you quickly follow behind ego’s footsteps, dragging yourself out of the field as a familiar pair of turquoise eyes harden on your retreating figure.

✦

“this is a lot harder than i thought.” as the day comes to an end, some of the boys at blue lock are finally settling into their rooms. gathering around at the edges of their bed, they sat up with a sigh of relief, finally free from the training they call hell (for now, of course.)

most of them thought that training would be as easy as any other task. however, they underestimated blue lock again. instead of a standardized test like shooting goals, every person had a different task and weakness they needed to work on. for example, reo needed help to hone his technique, nagi had to work on his stamina, and isagi had a full-body workout to perfect his direct shots. everyone else was in the same boat, having been worked to their bones.

chigiri falls back onto his soft, comfortable mattress, too tired to even brush out the knots in his hair. “she’s really strict. i had to do 30 laps around the field before i could even shoot a goal.” 

“i would have never expected her to be so strict.” isagi comments, “i knew she was good but this is on another level. it feels like she can see right through us. i have to admit, my muscles are feeling prepped and ready for our next match.” 

“only you would think about it so positively,” these were nagi’s last words before he closes his eyes, falling asleep immediately like a light switch.

isagi scratches the back of his neck, “this might be the hardest test so far. it doesn’t look like rin isn’t having it any easier.” 

at the mention of his name, the rest of the room groans in unison. in the other room, there were two people left on the pitch. 

raising his right leg, rin kicks the ball with as much spin and force as he can. watching as it soars through the air and curves to the top left of the goal, it collides with the net with a satisfying sound. raising his eyebrow, he quickly looks over at your direction, seeing you crouched down with an unamused expression. this reaction causes him to deflate slightly.

“again.”

hitting the ball once more, it spins with the same amount of curve but with more power. the force from his kick nearly knocked over the goal entirely. even though it was better than his previous shot, there was no denying the cold, slick sound of your voice cutting through the air like butter.

“again.” 

same with the third time, you continue to ask him for the same kick over, and over again. and while he’s all for long training sessions in soccer, this was getting ridiculous even for him. for once, he’s feeling the burn in his legs and the tickling sensation on the tip of his tongue. bending over slightly, he wipes away the small trickle of drool that escapes his lips. 

“why am i doing the same thing? we should be moving onto something else.”

“because it’s not good enough.” you reply, tapping your fingers on a small screen, “with a kick like that, it’s difficult for it to be properly reproduced. your accuracy is slightly off at times and the power you put in is fluctuating.” 

standing up from your position, you brush the dirt off your knees, “i think we have to move onto doing laps.” 

“no.” 

“huh?”

“i can make the next shot.” 

“i said,” stepping forward, you press a finger to his chest, “to do another lap.” 

his gaze sharpens to a pinpoint. wiping away the bead of sweat on his temple, he huffs. slapping your hand away, he stands before you, unwavering in his form. only now can you see how much taller he was compared to you. he was towering over you at this point, looming with a force that was weighing you down. wrapping your fingers around your tablet, you try to straighten your back, exhaling with nervousness. 

“what is it?” 

with him being so close to you, he can see the way your eyes have aged over time. they no longer held the same light he grew up seeing. the fiery passion that once ignited your soul has now died into a small, handheld flame he could smother in an instant. things have changed drastically since he last saw you at the airport. 

are you going to come home soon? when is the next time i’ll see you? rin asked, holding onto his older brother’s hand. although it must have been at least 5 years since he said those words, he could still taste the sweet and bitter chocolate croissant you bought for him. hit was early in the morning when you were about to board the next flight. alongside your mother and father, his family was accompanying you to the airport, ready to say their final goodbyes. 

only when i win the world cup! you replied, throwing up a confident peace sign in his direction, when i come back, we can play as much as you want, okay?

you promise?

yup! popping the p, you turned around and waved, grinning for what felt to be the last time.

instead of coming home with the smile he always dreamt of, you returned timid and afraid. after losing the world cup to another team, you had lost everything. from trophies to any victory you had before, it was gone in an instant. in one, final… crushing blow to the knee. he had always hoped it wouldn’t be you on the stretcher. now that it’s been an entire year, the truth remains the same.

“since when did you look this pathetic?” he brushes you aside, drawing a breath between his lips, “you used to be the best player, right next to sae,” you can hear him grit his teeth at the slightest mention of him, “and now you’re playing coach to a bunch of children.”

“what?”

“you heard me. you’re wasting your time here.” rin reaches out to one of the soccer balls on the ground, rolling it against the tip of his foot. you stand off to the side, unable to form a coherent sentence to rebut him. 

“what happened to you that day?”

you only remember the painful ride to the hospital. a cramped ambulance with five paramedics on the scene pushing down on your muscles. so when rin asks you about the events that led to this moment, your lips grow dry and chapped. 

→ POSSIBLE SABOTAGE FROM ITALY? (NAME)’S TORN ACL CAUSES TROUBLE FOR HER TEAM

↳ numba1soccerfan10: (name) was totally robbed at the last play

↳ jurassic_lover: nah i think she got skill diff’d, she wasn’t all that good anyway

↳ gojoisthebest03857: are you crazy?? did we even watch the same game

→ TOP TEN WORST ATHLETE INJURIES OF ALL TIME

↳ furumuni: that’s so fucked up, (name) just got injured and there's already a youtube video about it.

↳ silent_ninja: all these clips are insane to watch

→ (NAME)’S RETIREMENT? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE NEXT UPCOMING STRIKER?

↳ (name)fangirl101: she’ll bounce back, she has to

↳ [deleted]: this is some serious cope 

→ ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE CASE OF A TORN ACL: (NAME)’S CAREER HANGS ON A BALANCE, WILL SHE RECOVER?

↳ JBlue: if she can recover, it’ll be a miracle.

“shut up,” you say, standing your ground as the world around you begins to spin. 

the plain white walls of the facility bleed into your vision. it melts alongside the memories of being subjected to the long ambulance ride to the hospital. a blinding light that never leaves you. everything comes apart so easily when you’re reminded of that awful ride to hell.

“just face it, you’re lukewarm.” 

before rin can make any other comments, a ball collides with his nose head-on. he falls to the ground in shock. eyes blown wide as he looks up at your heaving figure. your breaths were becoming sporadic and difficult to control. everything around you looked like it was contorting. from the blue and black uniforms to the redness in rin’s cheek, life itself was beginning to morph into a terrifying sludge. yet despite this, the black and white color of the soccer ball was impossible to miss. 

it was the only thing you could see. 

so when you slammed that ball towards rin using your non-dominant foot, it wasn’t because of malice. you didn’t hate him for the words he was saying. to an extent, they were true. but there was something about this sport that made you keep going, a drive that has you up in its arms. 

that kick was love. it was love for a sport that has flown too far out of your reach. 

with this chance at blue lock being your last chance at staying within this exclusive world, you were determined to stay within its reach. 

“i’m the last person you should be calling lukewarm.” 

→ (NAME)’S RETURN TO THE SCENE AS BLUE LOCK’S NEXT COACH

[nekky-nek]

I had my day to wallow, and I'm only making a personal post only once about how I feel mixed in with the advice I've seen circulating around me since there's enough doom and gloom energy to fuel a Sailor Moon villain for the next millennia.

We are not letting misogyny win. We are not letting racism win. We are not letting xenophobia win. We are not letting homophobia win. It feels that way and it's gonna suck. It's gonna suck ass for a long time. I have no idea if we'll see the light at the end of the tunnel in our lifetime, but we're not gonna roll over and let hate win. If we act like this is the end, then it will be.

There are people who are planning to pack their bags and leave. I get it. Do what you gotta do to ensure you and your family's safety and peace of mind. If you can, please get your vaccines before January, start on getting your passport, even if you currently can't afford to go anywhere. You at least will have the option to flee if need be.

However, there are many who do not have the luxury to leave. We should've been able to look out for each other with our government, but now we're going to do so despite our government. Download and buy physical every Queer/BIPOC media you can. Be it comic, mv, movie, animated short, etc. Safeguard your history. Support your communities. Blood related and chosen. Think globally; act locally.

It's a lot, so focus on what you can control. Grieve, but don't get lost in it. Find outlets for your sanity in art, gardening, writing, video games, watch parties with friends.

Don't let your love and hope be taken away. I'm luckier than many and I'm not leaving you behind. I'm supporting you in whatever way I'm able to the very end. I love you. Stay safe.

If I see comments on this saying why the new presidency is actually better for the country, "You're delusional", "Cry harder", "You're over reacting", etc, just block me back.

[eviesqueezie]

“i’m not addicted” i started, my voice hoarse. “and i ain’t hooked.”

soda shares a look with darry, who reaches into his pocket and slams three empty containers on the table infront of me.

“then tell me, pone, why i’ve been buyin’ a new pack nearly every damn week and why soda found these hidden under your jeans.”

i shoot soda a glare filled with betrayal that adds to the tension surrounding us, blocking us into the kitchen.

soda opens his mouth to speak but darry gets there first. “if you weren’t hooked then you wouldn’t be hidin’ this from us. that’s what addicts do, pony!”

his voice is raised slightly and i’m filled with memories of just a few months ago when this woulda been a screamin’ match by now. a sick competition of who could come out with the nastiest words, whoever could hurt the other more. we’re better now, understand better. and we both agreed that we never wanted to see sodapop upset over us again.

i zoned back in when i realised soda was speaking.

“we’re worried, just, please talk to us.”

“it ain’t nothin’!” i frown, furrowing my brows as i try to find the words i need. “they help me sleep- they’re the only things that help me. they’re the reason i can”

sodapop crumbles, sliding into the seat opposite me and resting his head in his hands.

darry runs a hand down his face in a nervous tick. that’s another thing i understood now.

“this ain’t good, we gotta get your stomach pumped or summin-“ darry begins, one hand on his hip. “i can’t- pony i don’t know what to do.”

i pause.

“i’m so lost, please pony.”

i stand up, swiping the containers and shoving them deep in my pocket before making my way to the doorway.

“i’m lost too, i’m stuck in this fuckin’ maze. and you say you’re lost? everythin’ i do, im stuck. don’t you get that?-“

sodapop stands up, hair messed up from the hand that’s constantly running through it.

“pone-“

i make my way through the short hallway, grabbing the closest jacket on the hanger next to the door and pulling it around me.

“pony don’t go-“ sodapop starts.

but i’m already out the door, already slamming it behind me.

i’m still trying to find a way out, pushing through shortcuts i’d already discovered. and weaving my way through passageways i shouldn’t be going through

at the exit, i can see them. everyone. but it’s just out of reach, a light at the end of my tunnel slowly dimming.

but i have a flashlight in my pocket, i have a lantern and my eyesight is pretty good in the dark.

i think i’ll find my own way out

[thezombieprostitute]

Barista Steve - Part 4

Summary: Finals have you super stressed out. Steve knows how to help with that.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Bad parents, Dom/Sub dynamics, Smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

You were dealing with the big F's: Finals, Family and Fear of Failure. Your parents wouldn't stop reminding you of the importance of passing your exams. Your classes were incredibly difficult. And you didn't want to think about what would happen if you didn't pass one of your finals.

As you leave your latest study group, you see Steve waiting for you by his motorcycle. You're practically running to hug him, finding solace in his scent, his touch, his comforting words.

Steve has been frustrated by your situation as well. He knows you're not getting real support from your family. Well, not the kind of support that actually helps. More the kind of support that only makes things worse. He's doubtful of your defense of "they mean well". He's seen the effects of the stress and while he's worked hard to help mitigate them, there's only so much he can do.

The one big light at the end of the tunnel for both of you was your agreement to move in together as soon as you got your degree. Neither of you cared that your parents wouldn't approve of Steve, you both knew there'd be no one else for either of you. You took care of each other, supported each other, and you were tired of keeping him a dirty secret.

Besides, your parents had told you time and time again they wouldn't support you forever. Part of you knows you should've moved out sooner, but it was a truth you couldn't realize until you got a taste of what you really wanted. Steve definitely provided that. You'd be forever grateful to him for his patience.

"Hey there, Good Girl," Steve coos into your ear. "I figured you could use a break. A chance to shut down your brain."

"That sounds perfect, Sir," you agree. "Need to let my brain relax."

"Then let's put your choker on and get your helmet."

Steve didn't take you to the studio like you thought he would. Instead he parked the motorcycle outside of one of your favorite diners. The constriction of the choker reminds you that he's in charge, you're not to question his commands, but you can't hide the look of confusion on your face.

He sees your face and puts his hand on the back of your neck, "I need to take care of my Good Girl and I know you haven't been eating well lately. So we're going to get you food, water. And remember, I'll order for you so you don't have to waste brain power."

"Thank you, Sir," you happily sigh. You've been subsisting on granola bars and coffee lately. Your stomach rumbles at the thought of real food.

Steve orders you both moderately sized meals. He knows you need to eat but too much food could hurt you just as much as the too little you've had lately. He also makes sure you both drink water. He doesn't want to be unfair and order something for himself that you can't or shouldn't eat and he knows you need to hydrate. Especially after you start drinking your water and it's gone in a blink!

After the meal you're starting to feel sleepy. Steve kisses your forehead and says he's taking you to his place. Again, you're confused that you're not going to the studio but you don't question. You just enjoy holding onto him while riding his motorcycle. Breathing in his scent, feeling his muscled torso underneath your arms. The cold wind doesn't bother you much because he's just so warm.

Steve walks you up to his apartment. You hope it'll be both of yours soon. He directs you inside and tells you to wait for him in the bedroom. You don't need to be told twice.

Once inside the bedroom, you drop to your knees and let your arms relax as you wait for his orders. It's taken a lot of time and effort but you've learned how to shut down the part of your brain that feels bad for "sitting around doing nothing". Wearing the choker, feeling it every time you breath, is a good reminder and a good focus to keep you from fidgeting and thinking about what's next.

Steve walks in wearing nothing but a pair of low hanging grey sweatpants. You fight the urge to moan at the view of his tattooed, muscly torso while your pussy clenches. He steps in front of you. "Undress," he orders.

You stand as you hurry to obey. When you're fully naked you successfully fight the urge to try to cover yourself with your arms. You never have to feel ashamed in front of Steve. He's told you time and time again how much he loves seeing all of you. He's shown you as well.

"Good Girl," he purrs. He brings out a skimpy but soft looking nightgown. "Arms up."

You raise your arms and he puts the nightgown on you. It fits perfectly, like you knew it would. Steve always seems to know what feels comfortable for you. Knows what you need and how you need it. It's why you trust him enough to shut your brain down around him.

He caresses your cheek, eyes full of love, before pulling back the blankets on the bed. "Now lay down on your side for some cuddles."

You practically leap onto the bed in eagerness. Cuddles with Steve are always so restful and generally lead to more. A part of you is worried that you're going to fall asleep, but you quiet that down. You're following Sir's orders, being his Good Girl. He knows what he's doing.

Steve gets into the bed and holds you from behind. You've never felt so safe and warm as you do in these moments. He gently caresses you, giving you occasional kisses to the top of your head. Your eyelids are getting so heavy. He whispers, "go ahead and sleep, Good Girl. Pretty sure you need it. I'll hold you the entire time."

He says more but your brain doesn't processes anything other than that he's talking, it just drifts off to sleep.

You're not sure how long you slept for, but every part of you knows you needed that sleep. True to his word, Steve is still holding you and you smile in appreciation, small tears forming in the corner of your eye. You feel Steve stir and he squeezes you tight.

"Did you sleep well?" He yawns and kisses the top of your head.

"Yes, Sir."

"Glad to hear it," he mumbles as he continues to kiss you. You can feel his erection against your ass and fight the urge to roll your hips against him. "My Good Girl needed some rest, didn't she?"

"Yes, Sir," you rasp. Your need is building. He can definitely hear it in your voice because he softly chuckles against your skin.

"I think my Good Girl needs something else now," he purrs into your ear, sending electricity straight to your core.

He moves his hand down your body and reaches underneath the nightgown. You understand now why it was so skimpy; not only did it show off plenty of skin, but it gave him ready access to everything. He starts rubbing his fingers along you folds as he nibbles gently on your shoulder, making you whimper.

"I'm going to get on my back and you're going to sit on my face," he tells you. "No hovering."

"Yes, Sir," you whimper, both excited and nervous. Steve had a tendency to get lost in the taste of your pussy, making you overstimulated.

Before he lets you go he whispers, "what's your safe word?" You tell him and he thanks you before rolling onto his back.

You're quick to move into position, but you still let yourself enjoy the sight of Steve's body, his erection making a prominent tent in his sweatpants. As you're settling onto his face, Steve is already pinning you to him and devouring you. His strong hands hold you in place as he uses his tongue to reach all of your favorite spots. They're some of his favorite, too, because of the sounds the elicit from you.

The headboard is the only thing you can grasp and you do so with all your might as the first orgasm of many hits you hard and you cry out from pleasure. A small part of your brain realizes how much you've been needing this as it feels like everything in your system is finally unclenching from all your stress. It's only been a minute or so and your limbs are already feeling like jelly.

After the second orgasm, you're already crying from relief and pleasure. You repeatedly rasp, "thank you, Sir," not knowing if Steve can actually hear it or not. You try to roll your hips, a silent plea for him not to stop. He responds with a squeeze to your hips, an acknowledgement of your request as he adjusts just enough to reach that one spot he knows drives you crazy. He smiles as you cry out from the sensation and ride his face like your life depended on it. He keeps going until you cum on his face a third time.

He slows to a stop as your body goes lax, tears flowing freely down your face. He gently maneuvers you so that you're beside him, still repeating your mantra of "thank you, Sir". He looks you over but doesn't pick up on anything worrisome. "How's my Good Girl doing?"

"Thank you, Sir," you whimper. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He kisses along your cheeks where your tears are falling. "Such a Good Girl. But we're not done yet. Lay on your stomach."

As soon as you turn, Steve spreads your legs. "Such a pretty pussy," he groans. He kneads your ass cheeks for a bit before kissing up along your spine until he's covering you like a weighted blanket. He wraps one of his arms around so that he's got a hold on your throat. He kisses you once again before he roughly pushes his cock into you.

"Best pussy I've ever felt," he tells you as he starts up a brutal pace that has you keening. "Taking my cock like the good girl you are," he praises. "Taking everything I give you and begging for more."

"S--S--Sir," you croak.

"Cum for me," he orders. Your body automatically obeys. "That's my Good Girl," he groans as your pussy squeezes him tight. "Fucking you brain dead feels so good." You moan in response to his words. "You like being fucked like this? You like when my cock makes you dumb?"

"Y--Yes, Sir!"

He licks along the back of your neck, making you squeal. "I need one more from you." He readjusts you so you're slightly on your knees, making his cock feel so much deeper. He resumes the brutal pace and you start to see stars from the pleasure. "Cum for me, Good Girl."

Your body obliges and you cum with a lewd sob. He's quick to follow with a few grunts before he lets go of your throat and starts giving you small kisses along your back.

He pulls out of you with a soft hiss and immediately goes into aftercare mode. He removes your choker, cleans you up, and gives you reassurances as he holds you.

Finals are done. You've officially completed your degree. You opt to not go to the graduation ceremony, too many people. You've moved in with Steve, much to your parents' disbelief and outrage. They called you a lot of not very nice things that only reaffirmed your choice to get away from them.

One of Steve's friends at his art studio actually got you connected with a well paying job near the apartment. You were happy to finally be contributing financially. More importantly, Steve didn't object to you having your own bank account. Steve never wanted you to feel you had to be with him because of finances. He wanted you to have agency. It was something you'd probably spend forever getting used to.

Thankfully, Steve had the patience to help you out.

Okay, so this series is done, right? Barista Steve won't continue to bug me, right?!

Edit: Part 3/Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ronearoundblindly

[fairydrowning]

in order to live a happy life, you must romanticize everything (and see a good therapist).

[echo-starflower]

I FINISHED THE GUY!!!!!!

(Pattern by @ghost-cinnamon)

He’s perfect and I love him

But Echo! some of you might ask, isn’t the body supposed to be red like his bones? To that I say! 1: I’m impressed you saw it under the layers of clothes! /silly and 2!

BAH BAM

Embroidery!!!!! (I’m so proud of this hehe it turned out way better than I expected. Also faceless doll jumpscare>:3)

And of course, credit must be given to my amazing little sibling whose immediate reaction to seeing my doll was “ooo he’s spooky! He needs a top hat!!!!”

(She proceeded to make not one but two top hats hehe)

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 8: Feast

It’s a special week in Wild’s time, and to start the week of celebrations off, they have a whole-town feast in Hateno. Legend begins to understand the meaning behind community.

Celebration week:

Day 1 (You are here)

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“What did you say this week was called again? And why are we doing this?”

“It’s Hallowed Week!” Wild repeated for the umpteenth time. “Or, Harvest Week. We celebrate it every year here in Hateno with a special tradition for each day; today’s Feasting Day.”

“Right,” Legend said, disbelief lining his voice.

“Have you never been part of a community before?” Wild raised a brow.

Legend suddenly turned bashful, looking away. “Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m never really home, with all these quests. Ravio is usually the one participating.”

Wild set their hands over their hips. “We’re changing that today, then. Grab that bowl of potatoes for me, they’re about to start!” Legend rushed to do as he was told, snatching the bowl of creamy potato salad while Wild held their own plate laden with a steaming roast lamb’s leg. Wild marched them out of their house, leading Legend down the trail to the village. As they neared its centre, the euphony of chatter and laughter and childish squeals met Legend’s ears, a far cry from the lonely nights he was met with on his quests, or the quiet days spent only with Ravio or his own company at home.

They rounded a corner, and Legend’s eyes widened. The townsfolk had worked hard to prepare for their special week: strings of lanterns joined every house along the main strip of the town, casting a golden glow onto the crowd below. Pumpkins had been carved with intricate patterns, nestled by the doors of each house. In the centre of it all, an oak table sat weighted down by dozens of platters of steaming food, from which the townsfolk partook, chattering amongst each other about who brought what.

“It’s…”

“Fun, right?” Wild beamed. “Come on, the others are waiting for us!”

Legend paused a moment to take it all in, letting his shoulders drop as contentment washed over him. He returned Wild’s smile, soft and genuine, as an eagerness to participate welled up within him. “Let’s go.”

[underachieverinlove]

i hate when people say they don't want me 2 kill myself but then not give me any attention . if u want me to keep suffering sooooo badly at least give me what makes it a little bearable ( praise )

[greetings-inferiors]

Nothing compares to the glory of doing a ten minute mechanics question with surds and trig galor, only to result in a vector with coefficients with only 1 decimal place and you know it must be the right answer because it’s so unlikely that such a nice number comes up as a mistake and then when you mark your work you got it right

[meezer]

day 23 no oomf

[thedisablednaturalist]

MONTHS SUPPLY OF MEDS BABEY

[ilovedthestars]

For the Asks: 🦋🧩🌻

Please and Thank you!

Hello very polite anonymous friend!! Thank you for the asks!

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I have been feeling really insecure about my art for....a while now. Months, at least. I think the transition to art school was a big part of that. You know that thing where people who were used to being the smartest/most academically successful student in their class/school go to college and are suddenly surrounded by people who were all the smartest kid at their school, and have a crisis about not being exceptional anymore? Turns out that same thing can happen with artists. It's hard not to compare yourself. And I've been feeling like it's been so long since I got to make the kind of art i want to be making, and made it well.

Fortunately, this semester I've gotten some assignments that give me a little more freedom, and also some opportunities to do some illustration work, and I'm working on several things I'm really excited about right now! I'm starting to feel like maybe I'm dragging myself out of the self-pity hole. (unfortunately all of these projects are on tight deadlines and I'm also fighting off burnout with a shovel rn)

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Hmmmm...most stuff I don't like I manage to filter out based on tags and summaries. I think a fic that's trying to be funny, but doing it in a way that feels out of character or just isn't my brand of humor, is a pretty immediate nope for me. Likewise if it dips into intense social awkwardness. I have a painfully strong sense of secondhand embarrassment and I'm not putting myself through that XD

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@ineedlelittlespace and @cephaliarch , i think I met both of you through exchanging long gushy comments on each others' fics!! I've talked in DMs with both of you a little bit, but it's been a while. I still think of both of you fondly! feel free to say hi anytime :)

[bri-does-art]

a little birdy told me you have some kind of an AU for the Funtime animatronics also?

... who is this.

There are, like, only 5 people who know about this. So which one of youse is it? >:'D (I am not mad. I am very glad to have the opportunity to tease it out. <3)

I am working on an AU featuring the Funtimes, little birdy is right! It's a very different flavour than Call of the Abyss, more of a fantastical drama than a science-fiction horror mystery. It is a tale of duty and responsibility, secrets and closets, choices and consequences, healing and growth, a farmer's child and a puzzling fae, and above all, it is a tale about two lonely souls whose fates are more closely intertwined than either realize.

It is also a tale full of fae shenanigans, fun and indulgence. It's not a serious epic like Call of the Abyss, and hopefully not as huge and ambitious either. 😂 So, dropping the serious act, it's a Fae AU in which some poor unsuspecting farmer gets caught up in the Funtimes' court's bullshit and learns to navigate a new social circle that seems hellbent on keeping their newest member close. I will make a new blog just for it, as there will be more, err, kid-unfriendly elements featuring in this one - I want to be able to properly curate my audience for this AU without alienating people who follow me here and like my non-explicit stories. So, until that's done, I'm leaving y'all with this little sneak peek. :)

[cosmogyros]

.

[chickenparm]

last line tag

whoa, parm is finally writing something again? what on earth could it be?? it's some chilumi for a dear friend of mine who requested it and writer's block or not, by god i've been picking away at it one sentence at a time. but it's NSFW (the usual with me) so this is the last sentence that is somewhat appropriate enough to not have under a read-more. every sentence after this one is a minefield of peepees and hoo-hahs.

Transformed or not, Childe isn’t nearly so callous as to go faster than Lumine can handle.

thanks for tagging me @henbased and i'm gonna tag @sweatandwoe @a-gal-with-taste @ink-and-dagger @vasiktomis (i'm real excited for vas'...) @insult-2-injury @xanamnesis and whoever else would like to do this! just tag me in it so i can see your tasty crumb. don't be shy.